Count Only The Happy Hours

Part 1: V

Sil was already pulling out tools and methodically setting them on the table–no doubt taking inventory–but he paused to frown at Vivec. "Not my blood. They took the bag before they punched me."

Vivec looked up at him, then back to the bag. "Well. That seems like a story."

Cleaning Seht's bag was an excellent excuse for leaving, and Vehk's unfamiliarity with the home an excellent excuse to look around as he pleased. Not that he was really at risk of running into someone at this hour; the household seemed to be settling down for the night. Still, much better safe than sorry.

He caught a few snippets of conversation as he passed doors–he stayed to listen to a few, like the friendly argument between the couple who owned the place and some gossip among the servants. Nothing that pertinent, but indescribably alive.

Finally, feeling suitably refreshed after such a disappointing day, Vivec decided that he probably should actually get the bag cleaned. He started searching for a washroom in earnest, only to pause as he overheard a conversation. Two men, in hushed voices. That could be...

"One of the Nords survived, you know." Ah, Nerevar. So then the other voice...

"Oh? How lucky for him. How did you hear about something like that?" There, that was Voryn. But what about Nords?

Vivec pressed up against the wall, listening keenly as Nerevar sighed. "I went to go file a report, if you would believe it. Just following up on the one you said you'd filed." He was silent for a long moment. There was a hole in the door, hence why their voices were so clear, and Vivec peeked his eye in. Neither mer noticed him; Voryn, clad in a dressing gown, was completely nonplussed as he laid out on a sofa, while Nerevar, still in his armor, fiddled with a knife.

"Said it was a devil that did it," he said. Voryn gave a smooth shrug.

"They call all of us devils. That hardly narrows things down."

"And I'd be inclined to think so, if the guard he was speaking to didn't mention that it looked remarkably like what the so-called Devil of Dagoth did in Askvall a few years ago. Her sister had been there! She could never forget the description of it." Nerevar leveled a cool stare at Voryn, who met it without flinching. "That was unnecessary, Voryn."

" Was it? Would you have said the same if Sil and Vivec hadn't made their getaway? You know how we would have found them...well, what was left of them." Voryn sat up. "It's getting worse. A few skirmishes here and there aren't helping. We need to act , f'lah."

Vivec's surprise at hearing an endearment come from Voryn's mouth was quickly dispelled by the explosive sigh that came from Nerevar and the clattering of the knife onto a table. But no words followed; he simply stood, shoulders stiff and lost in thought.

Voryn shifted in his seat, then pushed himself up. "I know you want to go about this the 'right' way," he said as he walked over, arms clasped together. "Gain the approval of the houses, march forward as Hortator."

"You're the one who suggested that," Nerevar mumbled.

"And I stand by it. But..." Voryn sighed, looking up. "It's hard to explain, since you haven't grown up with it. But Hortators are appointed in times of crisis."

"Is this not a crisis?"

"It is, but for a great deal of us, this..." Voryn waved vaguely around them. "It's normal now. Things have been bad so long that we...we hardly know what good is." He looked back to Nerevar, face the softest Vehk had ever seen. "I saw good in you, the moment we met. I saw someone who, insane as he sounded, might actually be able to pull off something as mad as getting Resdayn back. The others have seen the same; everyone who meets you sees the same." He sighed. "But I think that may have been your downfall."

Nerevar looked up, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Well, look at what Vivec writes." Vivec cringed, bracing himself. "Azura-blessed, shining moon-and–star, Veloth's truest son...he paints you as a hero. It's the writings of a boy who believes you can do no wrong. And now, I think, you're afraid to do any wrong because of it, lest you let him–and everyone else–down." Voryn sighed. "And because of it, we've all hit a wall."

Nerevar was quiet for a very, very long time. Voryn stayed where he was, equally silent. Finally, Neht looked up at him.

"So what do you suggest we do, f'lah?" he asked quietly.

"The way I see it, we have two options before us. We could stay as we are, goading at small groups of Nords when we can, hoping they instigate something large enough to warrant a Hortator."

"Or...?"

Voryn shrugged. "Reach heaven by violence."

Nerevar blanched, and he rubbed his face as Voryn continued, "It was the original plan, if you recall."

"Yes, I recall. But..."

"But it's not honorable," Voryn finished. "Revolution isn't honorable, Nerevar. It's cruel and harsh and you're going to have to get your hands very dirty. We all are." As Nerevar's silence stretched on, he added, "I'll still be with you, no matter which way you choose to go. So will Alandro. So will Vivec, despite his scribblings. But ultimately, Nerevar, you're the one who must give the command." His hand reached out, lightly resting on Nerevar's shoulder. After a moment, Neht's broad hand covered it, giving it a pat.

"Thank you, Voryn," he says quietly. "You...you're very good at making me think."

Finally a small smile eked out of Voryn. "Well, someone certainly needs to. Not everything can be solved with a greatsword and pretty words." He paused, thumb brushing over Nerevar's shoulder. "I'll leave you to dream for now. When you have a way forward, let me know."

A wave of Voryn's free hand doused the light, and Vivec's line of vision went black. He sat back, taking a moment to soak the conversation in.

As much as he hated people speaking for him, Voryn was right. He would stand with Nerevar, whatever path he chose. He'd seen the good in him as well, and he knew as well as anyone that, on occasion, being good entailed doing awful, awful things. Things he would have never dreamed he'd do.

Tomorrow, then, would no doubt be the turning point. And, much as Vivec tried to stay cool on the way back to the library, his mind was roiling with thoughts of where the story would lead from here.

---

Language notes:

Askvall - ashcliff

f'lah - friend