(Series:
The Elder Scrolls)
Defending a Necromancer
Volume I
by Master Wizard Antons Falvino
Tavthus Avahren took residence near Whiterun in 4E 8. After the Red Year Tavthus migrated to Skyrim along with other Dunmer refugees. He settled near Whiterun because the temperatures there are mild year round, and he preferred that to the harsh cold of other areas of the land. He once told me that he picked mainland Skyrim as his new home over Solstheim because the unique flora, fauna, and other alchemical ingredients of Skyrim were of great interest to him for study.
Sadly, Tavthus' arrival created an unease among the townsfolk simply because he was a mage not recognized with high standing by Jarl Olfrrim, as would be the case with a designated Court Wizard. The Oblivion Crisis certainly created a smirch upon the arcane art, and Nords were already uneasy about Magick long before. Simply being a Dark Elf did not help either.
Shortly after his arrival, corpses began to go missing from the Whiterun Catacombs, spurring rumors through the city that Tavthus was surely a Necromancer with nefarious goals. It did not take long for the rumors to reach Riverwood, and even as far as Helgen.
One evening a trader, Lasimund Raven-Eye, who frequently made trips between Riverwood and Whiterun, saw a flash of light from Tavthus' cabin. Out of curiosity he peered into a window to see an altar decorated and full of offerings surrounding a finger bone, as well as Tavthus consorting with a ghostly spirit. He immediately reported this to the guards. With nearly the whole of central Skyrim suspicious against him, Tavthus was promptly arrested and detained in the Dragonsreach Dungeon.
A mob formed demanding Tavthus' execution, but the current state of political affairs required calm, rational action, the Nords feared a Dunmer rebellion might arise to overtake Skyrim, and mishandling this could spark such an uprising. The arrest occurred on Loredas, 15th of Second Seed, and an appeal with the Jarl was to commence in about a week's time, on Morndas, 9:00 AM, on the 23rd.
A request was sent discreetly to the College of Winterhold asking for my expertise to shine light on the matter. When I was a younger man recently graduated from the college, I spent a few years on Vvardenfell studying the Dunmer's culture, with a particular interest in the knowledge of the Telvani Wizard-Lords. The Nords did not want to risk seeking aid from a Dunmer for the reasons previously stated, and if the results of the appeal went unfavorably for Tavthus, there would at least be a possibility of suppression of the news to the wider world; this was why I was chosen to investigate the matter and offer counsel.
Upon my arrival on Tirdas, the 18th, I promptly examined Tavthus' cabin. I approached the case with an open mind: either I would uncover proof he is a Necromancer, or not, I could not simply assume one way or the other. The main thing I was looking for was any indication that Tavthus was a member of House Telvani. All other houses despise the Black Art, but the Telvani Wizards have an open mind and have been known to dabble into the Necromantic school. Besides this, I looked for a large accumulation of salt and Linen wrappings, perhaps an embalming tool as well. It would be natural to uncover apparel enchanted with strong Conjuration magick, Necromancy is technically a subset of this school. And finally, most damning, Black Soul gems. I found no trace of any such thing, nor of any secret areas within or beneath the cabin.
This didn't matter, however. His cabin blatantly contained a Waiting Door, that is, an altar venerating remains of an ancestor to call upon them in ritual. Merely practicing his religion in a foreign land could prove to be the death of him if the appeal went unfavorably, and explaining this as something other than the Black Art to the Nords would prove a great challenge for me.
There also remained the fact that there had been unexplained disappearances in the catacombs, I could at least rule out Tavthus as the culprit with near certainty. That meant there was a real Necromancer still on the loose. I wondered who it could be?
The next day I was allowed to briefly speak to Tavthus in the dungeon, with supervision. I explained my purpose: I would do my best to plead in his favor with the Jarl before the appeal, but I needed to know what case he would present. It was actually quite simple, and a suitable groundwork for me to work with – he would argue that Skyrim, being under Imperial Rule, must adhere to Imperial Law. The law states that Ancestor Worship is permitted.
The remaining time until I would advise Jarl Olfrrim was devoted to creating my case, and investigating further to uncover the real Necromancer in the area. Besides Tavthus' cabin, there were only farms and stables around the exterior of the city, as well as the Honningbrew Meadery. Any caves would be too far to be bases for research, so I deduced the real culprit would have to be a resident of the city interior. This narrowed the potential suspects nicely.
The Court Wizard, Fialia Lironds, a Breton who, from what I gathered during conversations I've had with the townsfolk, studied Magick in the Mages Guild before it disbanded.
Mekot Ulrarsen, the Priest and caretaker of the Hall of the Dead.
Lastly, Ronya, the sole Priest of the Temple of Kynareth.
On my first evening after arrival, I was invited to stay in the most lavish guest room in Dragonsreach. I dined each night with the Jarl and all of his other subjects, including Fialia. On the second evening I put on as much charm as I could while conversing with her. She seemed nervous, but not in any suspicious way. I was even invited to access her study, should I need any particular books of reference, or use of an Alchemy lab or Arcane Enchanter; an offer which I gladly accepted.
After the feast I followed her to the study. I did not want to show my hand with an extensive search, but my quick glance through her alchemical ingredients caused no alarm. I took some wheat, creep cluster, and a giant's toe to create a potent restoration potion.
“So, what really brings you to Whiterun,” Fialia pyred. "Surely you are not retiring here after some long journey like we've been told!"
“Quite insightful. Indeed, my business here is not what has been publicly announced. I am here to fulfill a confidential task, yet a rather obvious one in light of recent events,” I calmly responded as I finished mixing the potion.
“To investigate the accusations made against that Dunmer,” she asked with intrigue.
I nodded, “Yes.”
In the midst of our conversation a courier interrupted to pass her a letter. We resumed talking well into the evening, recounting various tales from our travels through the world. She then prompted her retirement to her bed chambers for the night.
“I'll make my leave for the evening as well,” I agreed with a yawn. It had been a very long day for me, and I would have preferred going to bed much earlier.
“Or… you could stay with me,” she smiled seductively. A tempting offer, but one I had to decline. I had too much work ahead, and very little time, I needed rest.
“Perhaps after my work is complete,” I smiled back.
“I would like that,” she responded with a whisper.
After this interaction I was left with a mixed impression. She was very kind, hospitable, and somewhat open. Yet at the same time I felt as if she was hiding something, and she was very keen on delving into the progress of my investigation. Her study had nothing out of the ordinary, but it wasn't a completely private area to begin with. Perhaps I should have accepted her very forward advance, if only to examine her more private chambers, I thought. But then why invite me into them at all? Whether she was the person I was searching for, I was still uncertain.
On my third day I wanted to visit the Temple of Kynareth to talk with Ronya, but the Temple was locked, and visitors were not allowed inside due to the sick within carrying disease that could spread. This did not seem out of the ordinary, and could potentially rule Ronya out as a suspect.
So instead I went to the Hall of the Dead. Mekot was a young Priest of Arkay that seemed rather distraught about the disappearances in the Catacombs.
“I don't know who is stealing the dead, nor do I know how, but whoever it is – I want their head,” he snarled at me before I asked anything.
In appearance he seemed very much against the Black Art. However, many of my questions went curiously unanswered, and I was left feeling that not much of anything that he said was truly genuine. Of all the possible suspects, I was most certain that he could be the Necromancer. It made the most sense: he had access to the Catacombs day and night, and I found it most suspicious that once the initial reports of missing bodies came to attention that he did not strengthen his vigil. The only question that remained was what could he have done with the bodies?
This question burned my mind as I prepared to rest for the evening. I could not claim Mekot as the real Necromancer on mere deductive reasoning, what I needed was actual proof.
That night my life nearly came to its end. I awoke with a terrible chill, and from the darkness a dagger pierced my stomach! As the poison entered my bloodstream, I became weaker with every moment, so with my remaining energy I cast a lightning cloak to prevent further assault. The assassin seemed startled and did not linger. When I removed the blade I noted the aroma of Scathacraw and Great Lichen, there had to have been Orange Dartwing employed as well. I must admit, the assassin was cunning: this was a potent poison to decrease my Magicka and slowly kill me! I suppose they had hoped with my reserves of Magicka lost, I could not combat the damage to my body from the poison with any regeneration spell. Indeed,I would have died if it had not been for the Restoration potion I crafted the day prior.
My lightning cloak spell had awoken many in nearby rooms, as I regained my strength guards entered my room and I recounted what had happened. The Jarl's Housecarl, Agnar, was alerted and posted a strong guard presence around Olfrrim's chambers. Guards were posted outside my room as well, but I could not sleep after such an encounter. I knew the attempt on my life meant that my investigation was on the right track, and with the remaining hours before daybreak I began to fit together the pieces of the puzzle laid out before me: what I was soon to uncover was a very elaborate scheme!
