Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale-Chapter 450 - LXIX: Mournhold

(Reyvin's POV)

My march to the ancient capital's core did not slow down save for the short altercation at the gate, even as hundreds of Argonians tried ambushing me at different moments, either baring my path with their soon to be corpses or actually attempting to flank me in the case of the slightly smarter ones.

They burned all the same in the end.

Why, the catharsis of taking it out on them almost made up for the state of the city itself, especially after their little showing at the gate.

'Taking hostages was such a shit tactic.' A scowl was on my face the whole time.

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The streets were winding and many of the buildings large enough to be called manors, but while the Argonians may have maintained the infrastructure for their needs and spared some of the original populace so as to not draw attention, they did not even pretend to bother maintaining the city itself, leaving it all to the people themselves.

And no doubt sabotaging their efforts whenever a particularly prickly lizard came to command.

To be expected really.

Without any mental input, my right hand flicks up and yet another group of idiots get turned into fertilizer, just as Davos slinks out from a nearby shadow, startling the absolute shit out of the Indoril infantry following me, and falling in next to me.

"Find anything of interest?" I ask as the walled off inner city comes into view.

"Just a bunch of locals who heard rumors and armed themselves in advance." Davos answers lazily "Had them gather the civvies and pull them away while we clean the place up."

With an approving hum I focus back on the road, and the distant gates of the city currently being breached or opened from within and my own troops rushing in without any true resistance save for small groups of stubborn Argonians.

Speedbumps really, and they would not be adding up, not anytime soon.

The true battle was already long since won, now it was time for a cleanup.

But that was not my focus for this excuse of a siege, for while the outer city may have been a winding mess built up over the course of thousands of years and filled to the brim with all manner of friendly and less friendly individuals, the inner city was comparatively tiny, built within a circular fashion with four distinct sections all connected to the central palace of Almalexia, and distinctly lacking in friendlies at that.

But most importantly, from the southernmost section of Almalexia's little gated community now sprouted a distinctly alien tree, massive and imposing.

Well, alien for Morrowind at least.

It was after all, far too green.

---

"Huh." I mutter as I cup my chin "Never thought I'd see a fat Argonian."

Davos doesn't bother holding back a facepalm as the little lizard man begs for his life.

With a sigh of disappointment, I flick my hand up and he finally shuts up "So" I turn to sole trio of individuals who may have some actual answers for me and point at the big three that now stood where a fountain and a pair of statues once did "What do you think this thing is meant to do?"

The inner city felt within minutes, a mix of my shades dragging out every single defender their undermanned little fort still had and my more offensive magic saw them all falling before they could so much as try and realize how fucked they were.

"It looks distinctly like a tree to me." Savos deadpans.

"The picture of wit, Aren" Baladas drawls to my grandfather's grand amusement and throws in his own two septims "It certainly feels magical, I'd say maybe a wide-scale ward anchor? It does seem to be having an effect on its surroundings, that much is certain."

One would have to be blind not to notice the abundance of distinctly foreign plant life surrounding this entire section of the inner wall, and the closer to the tree it came the more lively it all seemed.

Well that and the magical aura was all over the place, even if it did not employ usual Tamrielic spellcraft.

"It is obviously a way for them to make it more comfortable for their peons." Fyr points out while lazily levitating next to us "The moisture in the air feels far more present than I ever remember it being."

My eyes narrow "So a potential positive then?"

"Probably not" Fyr shrugs to the immediate relief of the other two "It could potentially posses a slew of detrimental functions we are unaware of. This is just a preliminary examination."

The trio starts to discuss it between themselves and the moment their attention leaves me, another voice makes itself known 'It is known as a Hist Hub, descendant. Do not trust it.'

"Care to elaborate?" I mutter.

'It is a young plant' no shit 'connected to the Hist itself, and used to expand their sphere of influence whenever they seek to expand. This one is far too small and recent to give them any true access and you should cut it down before it grows further.'

My lip twitches upwards "Scared of a little plant, Voryn?"

For a moment it seems like he isn't going to answer but just as I am about to shake his lantern awake he does 'Your power and victories are going to your head, do not underestimate creatures who have survived a world-cycle.'

"Point." I chuckle and cup my chin "A thought occurs. What if I were to use its connection to the Hist to give them a little smack?"

'Foolish.' Dagoth Ur answers instantly 'The Hist is made up of a number of interconnected demi-gods, all of whom are mentally powerful. You may be strong but they would crush your mind if you gave them a chance.'

"Why would I have to connect my mind to it?" I frown.

'Because the Hist does not use magic directly, only their alien minds and distinct forms of life.' He lectures 'The magic the Hub uses is simply ambient Magicka twisted into the enemy's purpose. If you were to somehow trace the mental connection back all you would be doing is burning a few trees, the Hist would remain untouched.'

"That makes some sense at least." I surrender the point... but "Still might be useful for research."

I can feel the disembodied soul frowning at me before the trio of eyes suddenly brighten 'Did you not see the state of your fellow Dunmer once you entered the city?'

"I did." I nod "They were rather malnourished."

'Incorrect.'

I stare down at the lantern "Explain."

'The Hub makes life increasingly difficult for all non-Hist related life around it, taking energy from them and redirecting it to its own purposes one bit by tiny bit.'

It takes me a moment to even accept his words as a possibility, but the moment I do the air around me shudders and a flaming Blasphemy appears in my hand and I hiss "And now I have all the justification I needed."

'The fact you need any offends me.'

Without bothering to respond I channel Blasphemy's vorpal effect into my spell and aim exactly at the Hist connection with Void's Blink.

The sword is brought down and the tree is drowned in crimson lightning, breaking utterly and leaving behind naught but ash. A shudder passes through the air and I see the plants around it wilt slightly, their full decay no doubt to follow in the coming months.

The trio of archmagi round on me, Savos looking utterly unsurprised, Demnevanni looking startled, and Fyr looking a bit miffed at the loss of test subject.

"Just pick some of the plants up." I deadpan at the latter "Should have the same origin."

He scoffs but does go to grab some.

"What was that?" Demnevanni asks, holding back a hiss "Did we not agree we would discuss this?"

"Large scale drain spell." I shrug "Who knows how much power it potentially stored."

The Telvanni Archmagister grumbles to himself before shrugging "Fine, so long as I am no longer needed here." And walks off towards what was once Almalexia's palace.

No doubt hoping to find some of Sotha-Sil's writings she pilfered.

Savos just sakes his head "I doubt that the tree could have done much on its own, no matter how powerful."

Interesting "Shamans?"

He nods "Most likely."

"Odd that they did not have one present then." I mutter.

Savos clears his throat, drawing my raised eyebrow "Reyvin" He points at the corpse below me "That was the Shaman."

I blink "Oh."

How the hell was I supposed to know they left a literal novice to use the death tree?!

He just laughs and walks off to explore.

A sudden thought comes to my mind, consuming it wholly "Seriously though. Hist Hub? Very creative naming sense there gramps."

'There is a more proper name the farm tools use in their filthy little language.' He fires back 'And while I am fluent in Jel, I only am such so that I can actively refuse to speak it instead of merely not knowing how.'

My lips twitch upwards 'What an absolute cunt.'

"You aren't so bad after all, old man." Scorch materializes atop Ur's lantern and settles into his new perch, completely ignoring the ensuing complaints.

---

(General POV)

On the noon of the second day of the reconquest of Mournhold, the city had been brought to a semblance of order, and the time came for its new overlord to dole out reward and punishment in equal measure.

Nerevar yawned as he listened to his successor assign tasks to everyone and judge the admittedly rather small number of fools who had crossed the line to the point of being brought straight before him.

He was rather lenient by the ancient elf's standards but he supposed being publicly chastised by the new Hortator, having your pay stripped, and getting assigned a flogging for some basic pillaging would be just as bad as simply getting your head lopped off.

And it just had to be one of his.

It was all in all a rather simple affair as he understood it, the city guards were slain to a man, or beast he supposed, and the civilians were spared for the most part, unlike their possessions.

The locals and soldiers both grumbled but after little Dagoth dressed the tenth poor fool down they shut their mouths and learned to obey someone capable of making them wish death with mere words.

The once-leader of Indoril shook his head and left what had once been the Brindisi-Dorom Plaza of Almalexia's vanity project, and descended into the city proper.

He found it odd that he could even recognize a few of the streets, even if the buildings themselves had long since been changed and the roads paved and re-paved over and over and over again.

What once were circular wooden shacks were now great square manors of stone, all of them circled with what were no once majestic gardens, even if the small plots of land now grew barren and the stone was taken by moss.

His home had certainly come far from that little town from his childhood memories.

"But what is a home without the people." He found himself muttering, an odd look in his eyes.

So much time had passed and even when faced with his memories and his home he still found himself feeling like he did not belong, like he should just hide and wait the new ages out and give way for greater names than the relic that was Nerevar take front stage.

Or at least he would have felt like that, if the forefront of his mind was not overwhelmed with excitement about an actual proper war happening!

Sure the child was too afraid of risking too many casualties, and while the perceived tactical over-conservativism worried him, he still happily went along the plan to just kill everything with the most elite troops they had on hand.

He could not even deny the effectiveness, what with each of their own paying for thirty Argonians on average.

But that was enough of such thoughts, he had come down here for a reason.

The old stone shop nestled in between a pair of abandoned manors looked like it had not been opened for centuries at this point and yet even now it responded to his Magicka.

His short stint as a Telvanni Archmagister definitely paid off, even if he had to spend an entire life around the madmen.

With practiced movement, the spells long since having been ingrained in his mind once he realized his signature in magic changed with each incarnation, he unlocked the way inside and came upon a small stall flanked by empty displays.

He smiled slightly in nostalgia and passed the stall by, descending down a fight of stairs and into the basement... and straight to his true home.

Hundreds upon hundreds of potions glowing with power greeted him, even as he examined the crates filled to the brim with expensive ingredients, some of which one could not even find today.

His eyes shone as he began packing them.

It would not do to not be at his best when the time came.

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Give us all the stones or the guards will mourn all over your hold

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