The Death of Artheim, Son of Carc

Hello /r/teslore!

Here's a piece from the long-running TES III mod Province:Cyrodiil; a project creating the region of Cyrodiil in the Morrowind engine, but with our own vision of what Cyrodiil should be. The text is by Infragris (and posted with his permission), and is part of a series of stories named "Colovian Tradition", set in the time period roughly between the Redguard invasion of 1E 808 and the first Dragon Break.

####THE DEATH OF ARTHEIM, SON OF CARC####

Now Artheim son of Carc ruled the lands of Kvatch from one end to the other, that is, from Gottsha in the west to the holds of the Gwel that bordered on Skingrad. He had a son, named Banathil, who had a son, named Irroth the Lark. All were strong men, skilled with weapons, crowned with red gold, they were the virtues of Colovia incarnate. Now Artheim was a proud and pious king, and the state of the divine empire, left in the hands of the cowardly men of Nibeth, saddened him deeply. So one day he rode out with the best of his men to contest the Inner City. He rode through the holds of Skingrad, and he rode through the depths of the marsh-forests, until he was at the banks of the great lake Ruma, and saw the eight islands, and the brightly painted walls, and the towers beyond number, and he saw the golden-white spire of the emperors. And he said to his men, "There we will go, and bring order and justice, and all who follow me will be rewarded handsomely, they will receive eight red bulls, and a boar's weight in red gold, and a hands-length of godsblood from the Inner City's vaults." And his men cheered and followed him, and this was one of the Forty-Eight Futile Charges of the Inner City.

There on the bridge to the Inner City, which is of white stone and crosses water for fifteen hare-miles, Artheim son of Carc met another king, this was Rein Manellis, the beggar-king of Brumath. Now Rein Manellis had sold himself in debt to the Nibeth, and he guarded their gate from the warriors of the west. And Artheim said: "Well-met, fellow king. We seek passage to the Inner City, to visit its shrines and temples, decorated with fountains and garlands of flowers, and to bathe in the waters of the lake Ruma, as is the custom in our times." And Rein Manellis believed none of this, but he feared the king of Kvatch, whose host was much greater than his own, and whose prowess with sword or bow far outpaced his own. "Well-met, son of Carc," he replied, "Sadly, you may not enter the city at this moment, for within its brightly painted walls there rages a plague, the likes of which man has never seen: each sword that is brought into the city will spring into the hand of its owner, to lash out to his companions, and all drink that is brought into the city will dry out in a day, so that all are thirsty, and each horse that enters the city will turn to its owner and speak in the tongue of the demons of the Fade, and then break free, and drown itself in the lake Ruma. But follow me, Artheim Hill-born, for I camp here in a palace on the lake's edge, it has been built for me by the moths of the Nibeth, and within it are enough beds for three times your company, and enough food and wine too."

And so Artheim and his men retreated into the moth-palace of Rein Manellis, and there they feasted until deep into the night. But treachery was upon Rein Manellis' heart, and during the very height of the feast he gave a secret signal to his men, and all rose up and killed the man who sat next to him, and Rein Manellis slew Artheim who sat next to him, and in this way all the men of Kvatch were slain. And the Nibeth came forth with copper bowls and copper dishes, and they caught the blood of Artheim, for they treasure the blood of kings in their secret poisons.

And when the news of Artheim's death reached Banathil son of Artheim, he mourned his death, and Irroth the Lark too mourned his death. And Irroth spoke to his father, saying: "We must rise and make great war upon the fool beggar-king, Rein Manellis." But his father said: "We cannot, for all our great warriors have been killed in battle, and Brumath of the Snow is far away, and between it and us lie the kingdom of Skingrad and Chorrol, both unkind to us, and besides, Rein Manellis has the protection of the treacherous Nibeth, who outnumber us a hundred to one, and know of secret poisons." And Irroth let anger grow in his heart, and his thoughts were of vengeance.

So one day Irroth heard of the son of Rein Manellis, Vythu the Far-Handed, who made a pilgrimage to Sancre Tor, to ask for the guidance of the gods in matters of marriage. And Irroth dressed himself in black armor, and waited on Vythu Far-Handed along the road to Sancre Tor, and there he killed him, and this was one of the Eight Inconclusive Pilgrimages to Sancre Tor. And when the news of Vythu's death reached the court of Rein Manellis, he was mournful, and he sent message to his mother's uncle's second cousin, Cirthes King of Chorrol, saying: "You who is kin to me, now hear of this injustice done against me: Irroth son of Banathil, lord of the Kvetchi, has slain my son Vythu Far-Handed along the road to Sancre Tor. He slew him along the road, caring not for the sanctity of his errand, nor for the borders of the kingdom of Chorrol yours, which is marked by many tall stones with intricate carvings. Join me now in waging war on the Kvetchi, for we are both much sinned against, and both we will reap a bountiful reward!"

And Cirthes of Chorrol readily agreed, for he had fought the Kvetchi before, and held a deep hatred of them. And Rein Manellis and Cirthes of Chorrol called upon many heroes and companions, they called upon Mathis son of Mares, Bater daughter of Udiel, Ovver son of Wechv, Uiher son of Wechv, Chwlm son of Wechv, Tehis and his dogs, numbering twenty-nine, Hachs Fox-headed, Cahar Three-Eyed, Malor Elf-Blood, Bhuttha Blood-Elf, the giants of Llur, the giants of Llor, but not the giants of Llyr, for none know of that place, Hur son of Gohr, Gohr himself, Cavar Flame-Wreath, who was bathed in the Dragonfires as a child, and whose hair was now ever a flame, so that he could not sleep on a mattress of straw nor down, but always slept on a stone, Calumn the Kothri, Schier-Je the Cat-Man, Asterion son of Morihaus, who fought the winged hordes of Ayleidoon, Pwlell son of Harsh Cucri, who once said to his wife that if his son were less strong than a stone, he would break his back, and if he was less swift than the water, he would break his back too, Chradzm the Dwarf, who never spoke, but held a box of pine wood that spoke for him, Nahar daughter of Lall, Lall herself, and lastly they called upon Hermwnthe-of-Thistles, defender of Chorrol, whose hair was as thistle down, and who wreathed herself in thistles, and whose spear was tipped with a thistle thorn, the reason for which is not to be mentioned in this story. And so the host of two kings set off to lay siege on the Kvetchi Tor.

And the mighty host of Chorrol and Brumath arrived at the walls of Kvatch, and saw that the city was the mightiest fortress they had ever seen, built on a cliff that none could scale, and girdled with eight-and-one wooden walls, and many wooden towers. And they set about attacking this city, and did so for nine months, and this was one of the Fifteen Ineffectual Sieges of the City of Kvatch. And after nine months, Hermwnthe-of-Thistles said to Cirthes of Chorrol, "This siege will be without end, for the city of Kvatch has never yielded to a hostile force, it is a rock, firm and uncompromising, it is unshakable, and no force on earth could break its wall of stone, open its oaken gates. I ask of thee, king of Chorrol, call for the Shore-king to settle our dispute, for he is both wise and impartial."

So Cirthes of Chorrol called for Cioracet of Anvil, king of the Trident Coast, who is called the Shore-King. He was both wise and impartial, staunch defender against the hand of Thras, and knowledgeable of the stars and their hidden meaning. Sad, the fate of Cioracet and his kin, which is told in many other fables, and need not be repeated here! Now Cioracet called for a council, and listened to the grievances of both parties, and decided thus: "Each will choose a champion, and he will set off to complete a task, and it will be a most arduous task, requiring mastery of the chivalric virtues, the likes of which we have not seen since the days of the Nords of Old, that is to say, when they lived in Old-Wood-Stead. And the one who completes this task fully, and brings back proof that he has done so, will be of the party of the virtuous, and the justified, and the other will be in disgrace, and his party will give tribute in foul blood-money." And both assailant and defender agreed, and sent forth their champions, they were Irroth the Lark and Hermwnthe-of-Thistles. "Your task will be to go to the stronghold of Taliaique, where the Ayleid king Chir-Al-Al-Boal presides over a court of dead men, and kill this king, and bring back his head to me."

And both Irroth and Hermwnthe set out, they traveled far over the Barrow-lands and the Heath and the petty-desert, till they came to the land they call the Ver, that is to say, west of Sancre Tor. There Irroth confronted Hermwnthe, and spoke thus: "My hand is virtuous, though it is covered in blood. Return, Hermwnthe, for I have heard of your many deeds and think you far above all knights of your station, and I would not relish to kill you." But Hermwnthe scoffed, and said, "Child of the Kvetchi Tor! You think you can defeat me in combat? I am Hermwnthe-of-Thistles, and I do not suffer such idle challenge." And Irroth fought Hermwnthe on the road of Ver, and lost dishonorably, and was left in the dust.

So Hermwnthe continued, and found at long last the entrance to the hidden halls of Chir-Al-Al-Boal, who is also known as the King-Prince of Golden Feet and Silver Hands, and rules over a court of dead men. And Hermwnthe made herself known at the gates, and she was allowed entrance, and the keeper at the gate was a dead man, and the workers of the stable were dead men, and inside the servants who brought her wine and meat were dead men, and Hermwnthe's heart grew cold. So she was brought before Chir-Al-Al-Boal, who took the shape of a copper snake with a boar's head. And the Ayleid king spoke, saying: "Many the child-fools enter my domain, and I have piled their skulls up high, making from their remains a fine tea, the likes of which would give a weakling the strength of thirty mer. Today, I am the zenith of Ayleidoon of old, carrying on my back one hundred and eight wings, and speaking eight secret spells, and knowing the names of nineteen beings from the outer void who will jump at my command an smite my enemy, by fire, stone, and lightness. Have you come to challenge me, mortal?" And Hermwnthe replied, though to answer such a question is in conflict with chivalric virtue: "Yea, I have come to kill you and take the head, and it will serve in the making of justice, and justice be done, both to you and to enemies more pressing and close to home."

And Hermwnthe and Chir-Al-Al-Boal fought a fierce battle, in which Chir-Al-Al-Boal applied all the secret and foul knowledge of Ayleidoon, changing his shape many times, into a beast, and a bug, into a boar, and a fox, and a wolf, and a hand, and an eye, and a rat, and a snake, and a cloud, and a tree, and a hill, and a badger, and a fox again, and a frog, and so on. But nothing would prevail, for Hermwnthe countered it all with prayer and force of arms, and in the end, she prevailed, carrying the head of Chir-Al-Al-Boal on the end of her spear back to the besieged walls of Kvatch.

There, she was feasted, and the hosts of Bruma and Chorrol gathered round her, and feasted her. So Cioracet Tide-Rock made ready to speak judgment, when Irroth the Lark came forth and objected to current proceedings. "Hrmwenthe-of-Thistles has acted against he virtuous code, so I have perceived! I have followed her in secret still, and saw how she entered the hall of Chir-Al-Al-Boal, and feasted on his drink and meat (thus accepting his hospitality), and when the forenamed Chir-Al-Al-Boal presented himself, and issued his challenge formulaic, Hrmwenthe-of-Thistles answered him in the affirmative, breaking the Law of Three-Days, the Fifth and the Sixth Pennant of Hospitality, and proper Knightly Conduct towards the Elf Subservient! I demand a duel, to settle rights!"

Cioracet, finding no fault in youn Irroth's argument, allowed this duel to transpire. And Irroth and Hrmnwenthe struggled, and their battle was long and protracted, for they fought first with the spear, then with the greatsword, then with the dagger, then with their fists, but in the end Hrmnwthe won, and inflicted Irroth with a terrible wound to the face, so that he would never again dare show it to the likes of man, and the wound grew infected so that people now speak of Irroth, Festering Prince.

And Cioracet awarded victory to the forces of Chorrol and Bruma, and the Kvetchi were forced into the giving of blood-money. And though Banathil of Kvatch had planned to give an offer of the blood of his son Irroth, the latter had fled, ashamed of his wound, into the wastes of the north, and Banathil washed the gold in the blood of a pig, and all were satisfied. So ends the tale of Artheim of Kvatch, and the events following his death.