The Redoran Restoration: Chapter 1

It was a cold and windy night when a travel-weary and ragged messenger burst through the gates of the compound owned by the Great House Redoran within the city of Blacklight, which was the last major Redoran stronghold. With the disappearance of Vivec, and the forbidding atmosphere of the city, the Redoran Canton had been evacuated and sealed. What was left of the local Redoran had supervised the clearing of the Vaults, and their safe transport to Blacklight.

The whole city had been turned into a fortress. A new barracks had been built, one that was much larger than the old barracks, and the armory had been refurbished and added onto. The city-turned-fortress now had an absolute militaristic feel to it, where once it had been a true city. The old walls had been carefully dismantled and reassembled, to allow for more room for the ranks of the Great House to assemble and train and recover from the losses they had sustained. The leadership had been hit hard, with only two Councilors surviving the Oblivion Crisis.

Miner Arobar and Hlaren Ramoran had each been away from Ald-Ruhn on House business when the Daedra had attacked and destroyed their capital city. The Councilors and their retinues had tried to return to the city after they had heard the news, but were waylaid several times before messengers sent at Boden’s behest had found them. They were both extremely proud of the young Dunmer's initiative, but showed it only sparingly. Upon their arrival in the city, they had taken over command, and now ruled the Great House as co-Archmaster’s, spreading some of the duties among the remaining House Father’s and Brother’s. They had elected not to reform the council, and instead provide the House with two strong leaders, who would ask for the opinions of the House Father’s and Brother’s before making any major decisions. At least until it was appropriate to re-establish said council.

Boden Andrano had been promoted to House Father immediately upon the arrival of the two Councilors at Blacklight. He had not been the highest ranking member of the Great House at Blacklight, but through his trials, the Redoran who had fought under him would do whatever he ordered, even if given a conflicting command from one of the few House Father’s in the city. Boden knew this was dangerous and had discouraged his followers from doing so, but they had become firm in their belief that he was the one who would bring the Great House back to its former glory. This was part of the reason why he had been promoted to House Father when the Councilors had arrived.

From the start, Boden had refused to take the most opulent of the dwellings that had been offered to him, firmly believing that other Councilors had survived and would be found eventually. The young House Father had relegated himself to a medium-sized room in the new barracks, and that was where another messenger found him. The loud, insistent knocking upon the door had woken him from his light sleep, and Boden had promptly unsheathed his steel tanto with its silvered-edge, and gone to the door. ”Who is it?” The loud, gruff question was answered in a slightly weaker, wavering voice. ”A messenger… from Archmaster’s Arobar and Ramoran. They ask that you come immediately to the council chamber.”

The House Father had immediately unlocked the door and struck metal to flint, igniting a lamp that sat upon a table next to his door. Pulling the door open, he quickly took the few steps between his door and the chest of drawers that stood at the foot of his modest bed. ”Tell me quickly why they ask for my attendance. It is the middle of the night, which means there can only be bad news.” Boden was in the middle of pulling on a simple shirt that he wore under his armor to protect against chafing, when the words of the messenger made his blood run cold and froze his actions. ”A messenger has arrived from the west. A large host of Nords and Orcs has crossed into Morrowind this very night and they’re headed in this direction. They should be here at dawn.”

As soon as the messenger had left, the House Father began a deliberate routine that started with prayers to Blessed Almalexia, Lord Sotha Sil, and Lord Vivec. The next step was to put on his armor, repeating a small mantra in his head that was simply a short prayer to Saint Nerevar. Once that was accomplished, he strapped on the Ebony long-sword that had belonged to his ancestor, Thadasou Andrano, who had fought in the War of the First Council. The sword had then been passed through the family to another ancestor, Anasou Andrano, who fought in the Four-Score War. After that, the Andrano line had almost died out, and the sword was thought to have been lost. Many centuries later, just before the Oblivion crisis, a noted Redoran scholar found the sword when digging through the Redoran vaults. It was given to Boden by Archmaster Venim himself. The sword had been enchanted to burn whatever it struck and to call forth the spirit of an ancestor to fight alongside whoever wielded the sword. The sword was absolutely treasured by Boden, and it was lovingly cared for.

With the sword belted around his waist, the House Father grabbed his helmet and his tower shield and headed for the door, blowing out the lamp on his way by. The Nords and Orcs had not attacked in numbers since before the Oblivion crisis, and Boden could think of no reason why they would do so now, except for the long-standing enmity between the Dunmeri and Nordic races. His footsteps were clear upon the rough stone of the Imperial-styled fort, a style that he did not particularly like, but the cost of bringing the materials from Vvardenfell to make a traditional Redoran fort had been too great. Maybe someday, if I’m Archmaster… But I must not think like that. If the Archmaster’s so choose, then it shall be. If not, then it also, shall be.

Boden struggled mightily to maintain his virtues, especially when surrounded by people who seemed to idolize him. No matter how many times he told them to stick to the virtues of the House and to observe it’s leadership, there were those who simply did not listen and attempted to inflate his head with rumors that he was the next Archmaster, that the Archmasters were sure to give their power over to him any day. The House Father was certain, now, that the last rumor was false, seeing as how an army of Nords and Orcs was almost at the very gates of the city. It was to that matter that he now devoted his full attention, as he rounded one last corner and opened the sturdy wooden door that lead to the council chamber.

”Ah, Boden, thank you for coming on such short notice,” the old, gravelly voice was one that the young House Father was used to, but put the fear of the Tribunal in many, for it belonged to Archmaster Miner Arobar. The former Councilor had been one of Boden’s staunchest advocates among the Redoran leadership, which would surprise many people, for Miner Arobar was a tough person to get along with, let alone impress. Archmaster Hlaren Ramoran, on the other hand, had not exactly been unwavering in his support due to an old rivalry between the Ramoran and Andrano families. After his actions during the war with the Nords, the Oblivion crisis, and the war with the Argonians however, Hlaren Ramoran had grudgingly become supportive of Arobar’s protégé.

”I came as quickly as I could, Archmaster.” As Boden stood his shield beside the door and set his helmet beside it, he analyzed the people who were crowded around the large table in the middle of the room. Beside the two Archmasters were Bradas Arothan and Midave Sarethi, two fellow House Father’s, and after noting the small number of messengers in the room, Boden surmised that the rest were on their way. Bradas Arothan had been part of a small, but loyal, Redoran family and had worked his way up the ranks, serving the House remarkably well, and while being several years older than Boden; he was one of the few people that Boden could truly call his friend. Midave Sarethi, on the other hand, was the son of Athyn Sarethi, and had done very little to further the cause of the Great House. Nevertheless, he was the son of a Redoran legend, and he believed he deserved the utmost respect for it. Naturally, he and Boden did not get along well and had been rivals since before the war with the Nords.

Approaching the table, Boden saw that there were two large maps on the table, one of the surrounding area, and one of the city itself, including all of the recent renovations. Hlaren began to speak immediately, ”The three of you will be leading our forces. Myself and Archmaster Arobar will be co-ordinating everything from the front walls of the city. This will be a simple, yet effective maneuver. Boden, you will take the right flank, and Bradas, you will take the left. Midave, you will hold the center, and when I say hold, I mean just that. You cannot break. Should you fail, we all die.” At this point, Boden stole a worried glance at Bradas, who returned it with one of his own. They both knew that asking Midave to hold the center for this action was asking quite a lot, but they held their tongues as Hlaren continued; ”Boden, your forces will swing out to the right gradually as you make contact with the enemy, and Bradas, your forces will swing the opposite way. Eventually, your forces will meet at the rear of the Nordic and Orcish lines, encircling them.” It was a brilliant tactic, and Boden approved of it, except for giving the center to Midave. Boden sincerely hoped that the two Archmasters would keep a reserve force to bolster the center, because he did not think that Midave could hold it.

As the three House Father’s began to leave, Archmaster Ramoran stopped them. ”One more thing; Midave, take the spearmen and those most skilled in its use, Bradas and Boden, you are to take the rest, divided evenly. May the Three bless us with a victory.” With that said, the three of them gathered their helmets and shields and left the council chamber. A messenger would come for them should they be needed again. As soon as the door to the chamber had closed, Midave took off at a jog, leaving Bradas and Boden to discuss the day ahead. In a low tone, Bradas immediately began talking, ”Can you believe they gave Midave the center? He will fold for sure!” Boden rubbed the back of his neck slightly and replied, ”Their reasoning is not clear to me either. Why they would risk such a thing is beyond my comprehension, but we must accept their wisdom, for they surely know more than we do. Now, let us round up our men and prepare them for a long day.” With grim expressions, the two entered the barracks and rang a loud bell, waking up all of the sleeping soldiers. In a loud voice, Boden yelled out to them. ”RISE QUICKLY! Nords and Orcs will be here before the Sun, and we must meet them with cold steel! It will be a bloody day, so make your preparations with the Tribunal, but pray for victory!”