Balanced On the Knife Edge

Chapter 4

"I request an audience with Countess Arriana Valga."

The castle guards blinked at her. She cleared her throat and repeated herself.

"I request an audience wi—"

"We heard you the first time. But you can't just waltz in here expecting to see the countess immediately. You'll have to make an appointment. She's very busy, you know."

Karme scowled, and the right guard winced as if he expected her to scream at him.

"Fine. When is she available?"

"You'll probably have to wait a few days."

"A few days? You misunderstand, this is a matter of absolute importance."

The guard on the left rubbed his chin. "In that case you can speak to the steward. If he deems it important enough, he'll grant you an audience."

"Thank you."

One of them went to fetch the steward and she sat down on a wooden bench, preparing her speech: "My name is Karme Arenim, of House Hlaalu in Morrowind, and I—"

"I present to you Orok Gro-Ghoth, steward of Castle Chorrol."

She jumped, having zoned out, and stood up to greet him.

"I am Karme Arenim, of House Hla..."

A male Orc of diminutive size, dressed in blue and green, stood before her.

"Yes, milady?" he said.

An Orc? The castle steward was an Orc? Karme laughed nervously, and bit the insides of her mouth. This was an insult, but it was an insult that she was going to have to swallow if she wanted help.

She could see the two guards she'd spoken to in the corner of her eye, whispering and sniggering about her.

"Perhaps you would like to come to my office, where we can speak more comfortably," he said.

Karme put on her best smile and followed him through the castle.

Once they were in his room, sat down on either side of his desk, Karme found it even harder to take him seriously. The green shirt he wore matched his skin almost perfectly, giving a strange illusion of semi-nakedness, and he looked at her with such a serious expression. She had never known an Orc personally, because in her experience they were stoic warriors, or lived in a muddy ditch far away from civilised society.

She cleared her throat and steeled herself. This wasn't the captive audience she had expected—the bereaved countess would surely have been much more susceptible to her emotional tale—but she would just have to make do.

"I do apologise for taking up your precious time. Only, I have nowhere else to turn..."

She began her story, emphasising the hardships she faced travelling through Cyrodiil: the banditry, the rejection at every turn from the Mages' Guild, and her arrival in Bruma, hungry and desperate. She wove the tale of how a foul Nord tricked her, and it was only with the help of a runaway Argonian slave that she was able to escape his clutches and flee to Chorrol (here she left the details sufficiently vague to avoid any association of her with the murdered Nord). Orok Gro-Ghoth remained impassive throughout. When she finished, he stretched his hands out on the table, as if weighing up several options.

"And what do you think the court of Chorrol can do for you?"

Karme cursed herself inwardly for not acting the part well enough. Surely any decent mer would see that she needed shelter?