Power Corrupts: Disaster Striking (ch. 68) (Patreon)

"Sheogorath, I would presume," Elenwen responded, her tone aloof.

"That," Sheogorath leaned in and whispered in her ear, the words carrying because everyone was suddenly deathly silent. "Is not my name."

I shifted where I stood -- everyone else in the room understood, I saw. The hall was filled with gods, kings, and emperors, but Sheogorath was unquestionably the most dangerous person here. Bar none. To top it off, she was the Prince of Madness so maybe not even she knew if she was about to start a war with the Thalmor.

There was a long, tense silence, but it was broken by Sheogorath letting out a chilling giggle. "You'll see soon enough," she said before Sheogorath promptly vanished in a flash of light. Before anyone could do so much as let out a breath of relief, more people began appearing. For only a moment, the Thalmor stood alone, before Daedra began appearing behind her. Sanguine was a familiar face, still cocksure and arrogant. Azura was another.

The rest, less so. However, I'm pretty sure I knew who Boethiah was -- a woman with black hair, pale skin, and dressed in black with a spider embroidered onto her blouse. I knew because of the way she looked in my direction, a cruel small smile playing at her lips.

Yep, she knew about the Ebony Mail.

The rest of the Daedra shuffled about, looking around the place and the people with varying degrees of disinterest. The mortals in the room tensed, realizing that all but two of the Daedra were in the room. And there were a fair few more of them than the Aedra. Some were fine, like Nocturnal, who took a page out of my book and hung back with her arms crossed. Even Azura, and her fumbling but aggressive form of politics, was more alarming than dangerous.

But Daedra like the Goddess of Murder and Betrayal? Or Namira, the god of all things repulsive? Or Vaermina, the Prince of Nightmares and Ill-omens?

The only saving grace was that not all of them were here. Molag Bal, Mephus Dagon, and Hermaeus Mora were absent because they hadn't descended. The former two, by my guess, because they were being blocked by Akatosh. The latter because I'm guessing the god of knowledge didn't want to be limited in such a way.

"All the Daedra are here, not counting Sheogorath," Hestia spoke up, her tone firm, and she stood tall despite all eyes going to her, "and all the Aedra are here except for Talos. We should get ready to begin." She decided, earning a few nods from the Aedra that floated around the hall, drifting between conversations. They began to migrate towards their table -- a gently curved table lined with ten chairs that made up a portion of the circle.

“Should we not wait for Talos?” Elenwen questioned, looking to Hestia with a look that I did not care for. I walked forward, standing behind her, and made the Thalmor agent look up to me for a moment. Her lips curled upwards ever so slightly as if she thought I wouldn’t walk over there and rip her head off her shoulders if she gave me a reason to.

“Talos is going to make a grand entrance,” Stendarr spoke up, settling in his chair. Behind him was a man dressed in a robe, similar to Stendarr all the way down to the mace at his belt.

“Hm, that sounds like him,” Dibella remarked, sitting in her own, which was marked with hearts and smiling faces. Fjorta stood behind her, trying to look more formidable than she was.

“He does have a taste for being dramatic,” Kyne agreed, sitting on a throne of flowers and moss. Her Spriggan stood next to her, a hand reaching out to place a flower in Kyne’s hair.

“So, he’ll show up when everyone’s all shouting at each other by kicking the door down or something,” Zenithar said, an elderly man who was richly dressed. His throne was made of precious metals and jewels. A mousey man stood behind him, a ledger in hand and spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

“Likely with a one-liner on his lips,” Arkay added, a middle-aged man dressed in black and white, choosing to have a simple wooden chair as his throne. He didn’t have anyone behind him.

The goddess Mara and the god Julianos simply nodded. The former was a homely looking woman, not quite beautiful, but very warm and friendly-looking. The latter was an old man that looked like he had no clue what a comb even was based on the tangled mess his hair and beard were. His robes were a drab gray, as was his throne, while Mara sat on a wooden throne colored red and green.

I took my place behind Hestia’s throne, an unpainted wooden chair that was ornately-shaped. It looked like it could fit me, so Hestia looked incredibly small when she took her seat.

“In that case, we can run over some preliminary stuff while he’s out to start the argument,” Hestia said. Two of the ten chairs were left unfilled, and the fact that the Aedra had taken their seats prompted the Jarls, High King, and Emporer to take theirs. From there, the Daedra took theirs with only a little grumbling. With everyone seated, the hall looked a lot emptier. There were still some empty chairs, though… but given the circumstances, I could only assume Sheogorath was holding them back. "Is there anything anyone would like to bring forward first?"

Azura's hand shot up, "I want to be the Jarl of Winterhold!" She announced without a hint of shame.

"Over my corpse, Daedra!" Jarl Korir, the current Jarl of Winterhold, snapped as he slammed a fist into the table of a far more dispursed table of Stormcloaks. "You might draw some support from my hold with honeyed words, but I will die before I let my Hold be tainted by your poison!"

Azura looked thoroughly annoyed, "Then I want a duel for it! Jericho, slay that man!" She demanded, jabbing a finger at Korir as she looked to me expectantly.

"This wasn't what I meant about preliminary stuff!" Hestia shouted while Jarl Korir glared pure murder at me.

"I knew it! Neutral my hairy ass! You're conspiring against me in my own hold!" He snarled in my direction, bringing all eyes to me.

I shrugged, "The Azura and the Hestia Familias have an alliance." I offered and I heard a dramatic gasp next to me. Looking down, I saw Dibella pin me with a look of absolute betrayal.

"I want an alliance too!" She demanded, looking to Hestia.

"Fine, we have an alliance, Dibella," Hestia sighed.

"Yay!"

"I will not stand for this!" Korir snarled, a hand going for the sword at his belt as he proved as much when he stood up. "You have no right!"

He might be right about that, I guessed, turning my gaze to the King. His expression was grim and his hands curled into fists. The meeting… the Moot had already started, and it opened with an important topic. Can the gods hold public office? The answer had the potential to change everything.

Torygg let out a small breath, "The challenge stands," he voiced, his words echoing out the hall. "It is our way, Jarl Korir. As it always has been. In Skyrim, if you do not have the strength to keep your title, then you are unworthy of it." He turned his eyes to me, and there was anger in his gaze. I guess for putting him in this position. "However… Jericho cannot fight this duel for you. It is my verdict as High King of Skyrim, and as Lawgiver, I say this -- Only the Captain of a Familia can act as the champion for their respective gods."

Azura looked absolutely rebellious as King Torygg looked to her. "Do you wish to issue this challenge?" He questioned her, likely because he didn't see anyone behind her.

"I do," she answered sharply. Then she looked to me like it was somehow my fault that the king was shutting our deal down. "For the cause of negligence and incompetence -- Jarl Korir should be removed from office!"

Ah. So that's how it was. I nodded, "I'll be honest, I don't know how many of you have been to Winterhold, but the place is a ruin with the population of a village. A small one at that. Azura has made strides to turn the place around. It's seen more production and population growth in the dead of winter on the upper edge of Skyrim. If that doesn't speak for her capacity as a leader, then I don't know what does." I spoke up, earning more than a few dirty looks.

"You only speak in her favor because you're colluding with her," Jarl Korir snapped at me, seething in anger. And the guy was absolutely correct. I felt a bit bad for the guy, but compared to the Azura Star… I honestly couldn't care less about fucking the guy over. It wasn't my problem. Also, it meant Ulfric had one less ally. That'll be a nice surprise for him when he shows up.

"Step down from office, Korir," Azura demanded.

Jarl Korir snarled so fiercely, I honestly thought he would pull something or blow a gasket. "Pry it from my cold dead hands!" He raged at her, refusing to hand over the title.

Surprisingly, "I accept your challenge of a duel. My Captain shall act as my Champion. Nerevarine!" Azura called out, making a few other Daedra go still and a dark figure step out of the empty air behind her throne. A handsome Dark Elf with snow-white hair that came down in a shaggy mane. He wore dark robes, though high quality. His ruby red eyes looked down to Azura, then to the dumbstruck Jarl.

Anyone who knew a thing about Morrowind would know what that title meant. I only barely knew anything, having never played Morrowind, but even I knew who had just entered the room. If the Nerevarine was anything like Sheogorath…

"I suppose, given the nature of Nords, that magic is prohibited?" He questioned, his voice soft with a musical quality to it.

I could see the frustration on the King's face, but he offered a nod. "It is forbidden," he confirmed.

"Very well. To the death, then?" Nerevarine questioned, stepping into the space between the tables. Jarl Korir stood tall as he strode into the makeshift ring.

"I will not accept anything less," He decided, drawing his sword and tossing away his cloak. The two stood across from each other for a moment, one looking furious and the other serene. There was no one to overlook the match or declare when to begin. There was a brief silence as both warriors stared at each other, before it was Korir that made the first move.

He darted forward, going for an overhead slash, and the Nerevarine simply… moved. The only thing I could compare it to was Ais or Ryuu from when they trained me. The movement was too smooth, too graceful. And, at that moment, I knew I would lose if it came to a fight. Meaning that Korir never stood a chance.

The Nerevarine simply twisted his body, effortlessly dodging the strike, and in that same moment a knife in his hand cut through Korir's neck like it was butter. The former Jarl gasped, a hand going to his throat, but his carotid artery had been severed. He fell to the ground, bleeding out while the Nerevarine simply straightened themselves out. He turned around, offering a small bow to the High King and Emperor before he vanished into thin air. Not even bothering to wait for Korir to die before leaving.

Five minutes, I thought as I dispassionately looked down at the corpse. It took all of five minutes for someone to die.

Hestia sighed deeply, and I reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to me, her eyes filled with disappointment… I shook my head, trying to silently tell her that this wasn't on her. If anything, this was on me. Still, she looked down at the body with a remorseful expression, clearly blaming herself.

"Must I swear any oaths to you, High King?" Azura questioned, looking incredibly pleased with herself as she openly sent the High King a triumphant look.

"As a Jarl of my realm? Yes, you will," King Torygg answered evenly.

"That," Hestia began, "should be our first order of business. As gods, we must be cautious of the influence we have over mortals. As such, I believe we should restrict ourselves from high levels of government. No Kings, No Queens, and no Emperors." She voiced her opinion, and it was easy to see that more than a few weren't happy with it.

It was easy enough to guess why she held that opinion. We both experienced first hand what the gods were capable of back in Orario.

"I reject such an idea," Boethiah announced, her tone uncompromising.

"Of course you would, Goddess of Deceit, Conspiracy, Treachery, and Sedition," Stendarr remarked. "I support Hestia's motion."

"To no one's surprise," Mephala, Goddess of Plots and Murder.

"How will such a decision be made?" Julianos questioned, making the attention shift to him. "Simply put -- I doubt we will reach a consensus on any topic. And any majority vote will sway to the Daedra's favor for they are more numerous."

Hestia nodded, "I believe the mortals should have a say for it is they that will be most affected by our decisions. A quarter vote for the Jarls, a half vote for the King and Queen, and a full vote for the Emperor."

Clavicus Vile tilted his head, "You would give a mortal with a fancy hat the same voting power as a god?" He questioned, sounding like he found the idea laughable.

"Foolishness. The mortals should not get a vote at all." Boethiah offered her opinion.

"The mortals live on Nirn, which was crafted from the bodies of the Aedra. To this, I would suggest that the Daedra receive a half vote for they have given this world nothing except to use it for their own entertainment." Stendarr shot back, earning angry looks from the Daedra while more than a few humans nodded.

And they argued. And kept arguing. And argued some more. I stood behind Hestia, my arms crossed over my chest while the gods bickered and fought over something as simple as a voting system. The actual Moot… nothing important had even been discussed yet and there was already a dead body on the ground. Speaking of which, no one had even bothered to move it.

Hestia did her best to wrangle the argument to keep it from devolving into name-calling. Cases were argued for various kinds of voting systems -- each faction receiving one vote, or the Aedra receiving two votes each to match the Daedra, and so on and so on.

I kept an eye on my clock and I watched hours slowly tick by. The Jarls, High King, and Emperor all watched with stone faces, all apparently used to the nature of these meetings. The other Captains seemed like they were in the same boat as me -- bored out of their minds, but trying to pretend that they weren't.

Nearly four hours later, Hestia slammed a hand on the table, "So, it's agreed then?! A quarter vote for Jarls, a half vote for the King and Queen, and a full vote for the Emperor?!" She shouted, clearly frustrated. I was the same. Four hours of bickering went by and they arrived at the same exact method that Hestia had proposed at the start.

A few Daedra didn't raise their hands in agreement, but it was a landslide victory.

"Good! Finally-" Hestia sighed, only to cut herself off when Sheogorath suddenly appeared.

"Ah… someone died already?" Sheogorath questioned, shoving Ulfric Stormcloak forward as she crouched down to poke at Korir's cheek. "Jericho? How long did it take?"

"Little bit less than five minutes," I answered, watching Ulfric's reaction. His expression was stony as he looked down at the body of one of his supporters, and I could practically see the gears turning in his mind to come to the most obvious conclusion. That he was killed for being his supporter rather than getting bumped off because Azura wanted to be Jarl.

"... So one body in four hours… I'm disappointed! I expected more from all of you." Sheogorath chided, waggling a finger at the Daedra and Aedra. "You've cost me one of my finest cheese wheels of perfectly aged gouda. I was expecting at least one corpse an hour. Well? Chop chop, get to it!" She demanded, making a chopping motion with her hand to drive home the point.

Ulfric's eyes swept over the gods and mortals around him, his expression shifting from stone cold to a stormy expression of growing rage when his gaze settled on Elenwen. "You… have no right to be here," he half snarled at her.

Elenwen offered a slight and mocking smile, "The Thalmor has every right to witness this historic event. I'm sure the delegations from every realm will be most disappointed that they missed it." I figured as much. I thought it was a bit weird that this was primarily just Skyrim Jarls and royalty.

Ulfric scowled fiercely, "You wish to remind us all that your boot is on the neck of the Empire. Is that why Jarl Korir is dead? Another victim in your power plays?"

"The gods' victim," Elenwen corrected.

"How about," Hestia began, "we take a small recess?" She tried keeping the exhaustion out of her tone. And that was a decision that all the gods supported. Ulfric continued to glare pure hate at Elenwen, even as Sheogorath clapped her hands.

In response, the tables before them were covered with food. It wasn't an illusion either because I could see it. What branch of magic was that, I wondered? Most didn't seem to care because they simply dug in, or got up to stretch their legs. I let out a sigh as Hestia drooped into her seat. She watched as a server finally dared to dart forward and drag the body of the former Jarl off.

"This is a mess," Hestia muttered to herself, her words mirroring my own thoughts.

"You're doing well," I reassured her. "It's like Sheogorath said -- there would probably be a lot more bodies piling up if it wasn't for you."

I saw someone approaching us from the edge of my vision. Elenwen. She sauntered over, walking with confidence and…

"No," I told her bluntly. "Don't talk to us. Fuck off, Thalmor." I brushed her off, making a dismissive gesture at her with my hand before she could so much as say a word. I heard Hestia swallow a laugh at that. Others weren't so restrained.

Elenwen's eyes went ice cold and I could feel myself making another enemy. She said nothing, but simply inclined her head before walking off to find someone else to torment. I swallowed another sigh and looked down to Hestia. She gave me a pointed look, but I shrugged thoroughly unrepentant.

"Jericho, we need more allies to make this work," Hestia pointed out as she accepted a glass of wine.

"I'm not so desperate that I'm willing to work with the Thalmor," I decided. "Plus, that probably earned me more points with everyone here than talking to her would have." I pointed out, spotting a few approving looks amongst the Jarls. And the High King.

The Emperor, on the other hand, simply sat in his throne with an expressionless mask of indifference. What I wouldn't give to learn what his take on this whole mess was. My bet was that he was internally screaming the entire time because it was sinking in that these idiots were here to stay.

Just another reason not to become Jarl or High King.

After I chased off Elenwen, Azura approached -- a gold band resting on her brow that was marked with moonstones. She had a crown premade. How tacky. "You performed adequately. I had hoped that my Nerevarine wouldn't be needed for this, but there was nothing to be done about it." Azura started, thoroughly uncaring that she was confirming that we had been colluding to make her Jarl. "As such, my first act as Jarl of Winterhold is to name you Thane of the Hold."

Of all the Thaneships I've earned, this one was probably the most costly, I thought as an alert appeared before my eyes.

You have earned a Special Title: Thane of Skyrim.

Thane of Skyrim: You have been recognized by each Hold in Skyrim and they have named you their first line of defence against Skyrim's enemies.

You are now in line for succession to the Throne of Skyrim.

You now have access to Special Privileges.

As a Special Title, you have been awarded two free perk points.

Huh. It's been a while since I've dealt with a pop up, I thought to myself as I equipped the title and dismissed the window. "Thanks," I told Azura, earning a polite nod in response. Almost as soon as I equipped the title, I felt just about everyone's attention shift to me as if they all realized at once that I was now the Thane for every Hold.

The High King looked at me, a glass of ale in hand before he began walking over to me, a pretty decent poker face on to hide what he was thinking. "Congratulations are in order, Jericho. I don't believe anyone has ever managed to become the Thane of Skyrim in our history," he offered.

And that was a bit weird. If no one had ever managed to obtain the title, then why did he know what it was off the top of his head? More than that, why was he acting like I could just take the title myself? Shouldn't he be the one to give it to me?

It was weird. Really weird. I had to assume it was Gamer nonsense, but I've never really experienced it like this before. Before, the gamer weirdness was just me being me -- not needing to sleep, recovering after thirty minutes of rest, not needing to eat or drink. Stuff like that. This was the first time I saw the Gamer affect other people.

Hell, was there even a Thane of Skyrim title before my ability decided there was one? Because there wasn't one in the original game. Did my ability just make it up? If that was the case…

Where exactly did my ability rank against gods? They knew I was an Outsider and whatever, but if push came to shove, what would win? My gamer abilities, or the gods? It wasn't something that I wanted to test out. I just might not get a choice in the grand scheme of things.

"All things considered, it's more unique circumstances than anything," I said, gesturing around us. High King Torygg offered a nod at that. "And… can I be blunt?"

King Torygg cocked an eyebrow and nodded, "Speak freely."

"I have less than zero interest in becoming king," I told him bluntly. "It looks like an absolute pain in the ass, and I want nothing to do with it. And that was before the headaches these idiots are going to give everyone in charge. Anyone that tries to make me king is on my shit list, your majesty." To that, King Torygg steadily looked more and more dumbfounded with each word that I said before it began to shift into amusement.

He chuckled, "It's been a long time since anyone has been so direct with me." He admitted, not exactly thankful for my honesty, but it was easy to see that a burden was just lifted off of his shoulders.

"He speaks the truth, your majesty," Stendarr offered before sending me an approving nod. At that, the King offered an arm for me to clasp. I did so and he offered a firm nod.

"I know what I'm good at, your highness." I offered, letting go of his arm. "And it's not this." I reassured -- being High King sounded cool in theory, but it just wasn't worth it. Too much of a pain in the ass.

"You've been blunt with me, so allow me to return the favor -- that is a relief," he admitted. "Skyrim is lucky to have a man such as you. Most would simply challenge me and take my crown here and now. Your lack of ambition is to your credit, Jericho." He offered the praise readily.

And, just like that, I gained the favor of a king by bluntly telling him I had no desire to usurp him. Maybe this whole diplomacy thing isn't so bad?

As if to disagree with me, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. Looking over, I saw Ulfric and Balgruuf standing across from each other. Their voices slowly growing louder, their tones angrier. In no time at all, the two were shouting at each other, but it took a moment for the other conversations to die off so I could hear what they were shouting about.

"This was an attack on the True Sons of Skyrim," Ulfric snarled at Balgruuf, jabbing a finger in his face. "Your milk drinking ilk can hide behind all the justifications that you wish, but the truth is obvious. Skyrim is for the Nords, and those Daedra have more than proven the chaos they reap across our homeland. They offer nothing and they only take. They should be done away with entirely."

"First Skyrim should succeed from the Empire and now Skyrim should do away with the gods? Do you fancy yourself as the object of worship to replace them?" Balgruuf shot back, his tone harsh, trying to restrain himself, but that grip on his temper was slipping with every second.

"You damn well know that I don't. Your realm hasn't suffered as others have, Balgruuf. Markarth was invaded by Forsworn. Orcs rampaging about burning entire villages to the ground. A party besieged the capital. A Jarl kidnapped in her own city -- I say enough!" Ulfric snapped right back at him. "No more. Enough blood has been spilt for the amusement of malicious gods. Enough blood has been spilt for a dying Empire!"

Ulfric's voice echoed throughout the hall. He stood tall, completely aware of what he just said and who he had said it in front of.

The Aedra had been right, in the end. Because it was that moment that the doors to the hall swung open, revealing a figure striding through it.

Talos. He looked much the same as he had the last time I saw him, only without the helmet, revealing shortly cut gray hair. His expression was flat, giving nothing away as he strode into the hall like he owned the steps he walked on. Lagging behind him was a tall man clad in Ebony armor. Not quite as tall as me, but not far off, meaning he dwarfed nearly everyone in the room.

Talos and his Captain, the Ebony Warrior.

I should have seen that coming.

"That," Talos spoke, likely keenly aware how most of the room was hanging off every word. "Is what we are here to discuss, Ulfric Stormcloak."

Talos slowed, his eyes sliding over the various gods as he continued to walk towards the Aedra table. "The cost of the gods walking Nirn. The cost of the Empire too weak to hold up it's bloated form. And the cost that people are willing to accept. Only instead of coin, we are bartering with lives and the future." He reached his throne at the table and took a seat.

"I suggest you all begin to take this seriously."

The Aedra were right.

Talos did know how to make an entrance.