Other Fan Fiction ❯ Seeds of Obligation ❯ Prologue: Desperation ( Prologue )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Hoshiko Saitou 
Chancellor Ocato debates whether his plans for Tamriel are worth even mentioning.
Miscellaneous: Other Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Fantasy / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.26.2007 | Updated On: 12.26.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 130 | Status: Completed
Chancellor Ocato debates whether his plans for Tamriel are worth even mentioning.
Miscellaneous: Other Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Fantasy / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.26.2007 | Updated On: 12.26.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 130 | Status: Completed
High Chancellor Ocato rapped his nails against the large meeting table in the Elder Council’s meeting hall; its emptiness lending itself to what seemed like an eternal echo that was his only company. He had told the Champion of Cyrodiil that they should celebrate instead of harp on the difficulties left behind by the lack of an heir. Though she believed him, and was probably out rallying the people of the provinces to celebrate and rebuild, the Elder Council had been secretly at odds for weeks regarding the situation. Last night, as he was pacing his lavish quarters high in the palace, an insane idea struck him. He walked to the Temple of the One under the cover of darkness and stood there for a while, remembering all the sacrifices that had been made. He wasn’t sure if such an idea was even worth giving the honor of spoken word to, but he still chipped a piece off the holy Avatar of Akatosh dragon statue in case such measures were actually considered.
“You’re thinking again,” the Breton Chancellor Fregro said from the entryway behind Ocato. “It saturates the air around you.”
“A fault I’d like to erase, I assure you.”
“I have noticed in our debates that you seem worried about the abolition of the Elder Council. I would like to take this opportunity of privacy to discuss that with you.” Chancellor Fregro sat in the empty chair to Ocato’s right and stared ahead, waiting for an explanation.
“I do have faith in the people of Tamriel,” he began, pouring as much sincerity into the statement as he could. “I believe they can now stand to improve their own lives and provinces. However, the suggestions of men such as Chancellor Tremalis and Chancellor Bol-oh-Groga are far too radical. The people of Tamriel are not meant to elect their Emperor; it is too much change too soon after such devastation.”
“I do agree, but the only way to ensure the safety of the Council, which I would like to do,” Fregro added with emphasis, “is to place a person of Septim blood on the throne. Somehow I doubt that the pious Brother Martin has fathered any illegitimate children during his decades in the priesthood.”
Ocato reached into the pocket of his robes and fiddled with the statue piece as he mentally debated whether to bring up the option. After some quick balancing of the pros and cons, he decided that a one on one conversation regarding such a drastic measure would be his best course of action. “There are rumored methods passed down by the eldest members of the Mage’s Guild that could help us.”
Sensing a taboo subject matter coming, Fregro leaned in closer and lowered his voice despite their lack of an audience. “Explain to me these methods.”
“Do you know much about human conjuration?” He spit the question out quickly in his hushed voice, pushing it out of himself before he became too cowardly and locked it inside his mind.
“Are you mad?” Fergo shouted. “Such a thing would be unjust and dangerous!”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Ocato asked, motioning with his hands to signal quiet. “But with the experience and raw power of the Elder Council we could conjure a person of Septim blood to serve as our Emperor. There may no longer be an Amulet of Kings, but the regal bloodline is bound to receive some form of blessing by the Nine if it can continue. We could easily say that the person is Martin’s son or some long lost nephew of Uriel Septim. The people are desperate for any good news we throw at them.”
“But such an act is nothing short of inhumane. A summoned beast was still a living being from its world, but we justify that by telling ourselves they are stupid savage monsters. However, ripping a human from its life is too cruel even for the most heartless mages, and would be frowned upon by the Arcane University and the people.”
Ocato pulled the statue chip out of his pocket. “No, you misunderstand my intentions. The Avatar of Akatosh statue is infused with Martin’s essence. His blood, his power; it’s all in the stone. With a scroll and a ritual prepared to exact specifications, we could construct a Septim heir; a person born into our world with no previous life to speak of.”
“You are treading in dangerous waters,” Fregro warned. “You are beginning to sound like you fancy yourself a Devine.”
“I assure you that my post as High Chancellor is something I wish to keep. I have worked very hard at building my position into what I wanted. This plan is not an urge to create power for myself; it is an urge to keep the power we have rightfully earned. Do you want to be left with the obligation of giving Tamriel a political revolution?”
“I must admit, no. It would seem that fine leadership seeps from the Amulet of Kings. The Septims have begot loved emperors and empresses for centuries.”
“Right. After such a long period where a tradition has not only been divine, but loved by the people, what system are we to build from scratch that could rival it?” Ocato pinched the chip between his thumb and forefinger, staring at it as if waiting for the divine power within to guide him. “If my ambitions are an abomination against the Nine, then I shall invite them to stop me. I will light the way and leave all the doors open, but I do not fully believe it was their intention for things to turn out as they did. Do you believe in free will?”
“I believe that what the Nine chart in our lives is inescapable, but they do not chart every step.”
“Martin’s father was far too obsessed with presumed destinies. I believe that Martin convinced himself that his sacrifice was the only way. The Hero of Cyrodiil said that Martin mentioned the plan only moments before he implemented it, but to harness that great a power from the Amulet of Kings would take great premeditation, Septim or no.”
“You do not mean to suggest Martin was suicidal,” Fregro said.
“No, but I do believe he had accepted that ‘fate’ long before he was forced to. Whether or not my theories are correct does not matter, however. We cannot undo what has been done. The future is what we must focus on now.”
“I am still not fully convinced, and you will need to convince the entire Council,” Fregro said while rising. “I must bid your farewell.”
As Ocato reached out to shake his comrade’s hand, he made sure of his safety. “I take it I can trust you to keep this idea between us.”
“I will gladly disconnect myself from your scheme. This endeavor is all yours, High Chancellor.”
“Then I will retire to the Arcane University. I will not bring up this possibility until I completely understand it. All the rumors very well may lead to a dead end, so do not be surprised if I never speak of it again.”
“Best of luck,” Fregro said. “We shall meet in two days.”
As Ocato watched the man leave he nervously played with the stone piece in his hand. He’d been working day and night since the assassination of Uriel Septim and his sons; directing palace finances, solving legal issues, running Elder Council meetings, signing everything in site, and more. Though it gave him open opportunity to gain favor amongst the counts and countesses, which he gladly exploited, he was far past done with the power that had been loaded in heaping bundles into his arms. Those who perpetuated the rumor that he was vying for the throne were very mistaken. Instead, he prayed for a demotion. He wanted Tamriel to rebuild itself into something akin to its former glory. The question remained: How desperate was he? How desperate were they?
“You’re thinking again,” the Breton Chancellor Fregro said from the entryway behind Ocato. “It saturates the air around you.”
“A fault I’d like to erase, I assure you.”
“I have noticed in our debates that you seem worried about the abolition of the Elder Council. I would like to take this opportunity of privacy to discuss that with you.” Chancellor Fregro sat in the empty chair to Ocato’s right and stared ahead, waiting for an explanation.
“I do have faith in the people of Tamriel,” he began, pouring as much sincerity into the statement as he could. “I believe they can now stand to improve their own lives and provinces. However, the suggestions of men such as Chancellor Tremalis and Chancellor Bol-oh-Groga are far too radical. The people of Tamriel are not meant to elect their Emperor; it is too much change too soon after such devastation.”
“I do agree, but the only way to ensure the safety of the Council, which I would like to do,” Fregro added with emphasis, “is to place a person of Septim blood on the throne. Somehow I doubt that the pious Brother Martin has fathered any illegitimate children during his decades in the priesthood.”
Ocato reached into the pocket of his robes and fiddled with the statue piece as he mentally debated whether to bring up the option. After some quick balancing of the pros and cons, he decided that a one on one conversation regarding such a drastic measure would be his best course of action. “There are rumored methods passed down by the eldest members of the Mage’s Guild that could help us.”
Sensing a taboo subject matter coming, Fregro leaned in closer and lowered his voice despite their lack of an audience. “Explain to me these methods.”
“Do you know much about human conjuration?” He spit the question out quickly in his hushed voice, pushing it out of himself before he became too cowardly and locked it inside his mind.
“Are you mad?” Fergo shouted. “Such a thing would be unjust and dangerous!”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Ocato asked, motioning with his hands to signal quiet. “But with the experience and raw power of the Elder Council we could conjure a person of Septim blood to serve as our Emperor. There may no longer be an Amulet of Kings, but the regal bloodline is bound to receive some form of blessing by the Nine if it can continue. We could easily say that the person is Martin’s son or some long lost nephew of Uriel Septim. The people are desperate for any good news we throw at them.”
“But such an act is nothing short of inhumane. A summoned beast was still a living being from its world, but we justify that by telling ourselves they are stupid savage monsters. However, ripping a human from its life is too cruel even for the most heartless mages, and would be frowned upon by the Arcane University and the people.”
Ocato pulled the statue chip out of his pocket. “No, you misunderstand my intentions. The Avatar of Akatosh statue is infused with Martin’s essence. His blood, his power; it’s all in the stone. With a scroll and a ritual prepared to exact specifications, we could construct a Septim heir; a person born into our world with no previous life to speak of.”
“You are treading in dangerous waters,” Fregro warned. “You are beginning to sound like you fancy yourself a Devine.”
“I assure you that my post as High Chancellor is something I wish to keep. I have worked very hard at building my position into what I wanted. This plan is not an urge to create power for myself; it is an urge to keep the power we have rightfully earned. Do you want to be left with the obligation of giving Tamriel a political revolution?”
“I must admit, no. It would seem that fine leadership seeps from the Amulet of Kings. The Septims have begot loved emperors and empresses for centuries.”
“Right. After such a long period where a tradition has not only been divine, but loved by the people, what system are we to build from scratch that could rival it?” Ocato pinched the chip between his thumb and forefinger, staring at it as if waiting for the divine power within to guide him. “If my ambitions are an abomination against the Nine, then I shall invite them to stop me. I will light the way and leave all the doors open, but I do not fully believe it was their intention for things to turn out as they did. Do you believe in free will?”
“I believe that what the Nine chart in our lives is inescapable, but they do not chart every step.”
“Martin’s father was far too obsessed with presumed destinies. I believe that Martin convinced himself that his sacrifice was the only way. The Hero of Cyrodiil said that Martin mentioned the plan only moments before he implemented it, but to harness that great a power from the Amulet of Kings would take great premeditation, Septim or no.”
“You do not mean to suggest Martin was suicidal,” Fregro said.
“No, but I do believe he had accepted that ‘fate’ long before he was forced to. Whether or not my theories are correct does not matter, however. We cannot undo what has been done. The future is what we must focus on now.”
“I am still not fully convinced, and you will need to convince the entire Council,” Fregro said while rising. “I must bid your farewell.”
As Ocato reached out to shake his comrade’s hand, he made sure of his safety. “I take it I can trust you to keep this idea between us.”
“I will gladly disconnect myself from your scheme. This endeavor is all yours, High Chancellor.”
“Then I will retire to the Arcane University. I will not bring up this possibility until I completely understand it. All the rumors very well may lead to a dead end, so do not be surprised if I never speak of it again.”
“Best of luck,” Fregro said. “We shall meet in two days.”
As Ocato watched the man leave he nervously played with the stone piece in his hand. He’d been working day and night since the assassination of Uriel Septim and his sons; directing palace finances, solving legal issues, running Elder Council meetings, signing everything in site, and more. Though it gave him open opportunity to gain favor amongst the counts and countesses, which he gladly exploited, he was far past done with the power that had been loaded in heaping bundles into his arms. Those who perpetuated the rumor that he was vying for the throne were very mistaken. Instead, he prayed for a demotion. He wanted Tamriel to rebuild itself into something akin to its former glory. The question remained: How desperate was he? How desperate were they?