Categories > Games > Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion
Brimus Manor
You’d think being a noble in the town of Bravil doesn’t mean much; well you’re wrong. Sure this town is full of low class races like the Argonians and drugs like skooma. Beggars huddle by the main gate panhandling and traders who come into town. Though all that sounds unappealing, there is money to be made here. My parents were born poor Imperials so they know just how to deal with these low-life’s. Under Count Regulus’ nose we’ve been running a sweat shop in a secret room in the sewer underneath the city. We employ lost children, druggies, and well, whoever I can convince to work for nearly nothing.
Yes, I am the head of the operation. My parents reap all the benefits, while I’m the one getting dirty. The city doesn’t even know I’m a Romanus.That name can’t be soiled by someone who spends most of their time underground. Don’t worry I’m still completely taken care of. Dad bought me a room under the skooma den. Furnished entirely with the softest fabrics, the most elegant wood carved and imported by the most talented woodworkers in Tamriel. All of this to make up for the fact that my last name does not match their’s.
My brother is now of age to find a wife and become the true holder of Romanus Manor. He shall not find love though; he is the most unpleasant person I have ever met – did I mention I hang out with skum in the sewers? He should be the one down here handing out skooma samples to keepmy workers happy. Having his ass slapped by a sloppy Nord whom, no matter how many times I hold a dagger to his throat, will still call me “sweet roll.”
I’m locking up for the day. Most of my employees are thieves, but they are no Grey Fox. I seal the doors with a master lock and place a ward that a traveling mage from Skyrim taught me. On my way to my own inside-out-manor, my brother stops me.
“Peasant,” I scoff and keep walking but he continues, “I must speak to you.”
“Make it fast, fancy pants,” He leans in, his breath smelling of mead and perfume.
“Sales are down.” He says in such a matter-of-fact way with his hand on my shoulder. I brush him off and back away.
“Not that it concerns you, brother.” He covers my mouth with his large, yet delicate princess hands.
“You shut your whore mouth!” He lowers his voice and his hand, “You address me as Lord Vikus Romanus, and this will soon be my business after I find a bitch to lay with.”
“You are no lord! You are skum, and you know nothing of business. You are a spoiled brat who still suck on mother’s tits!” Swiftly, he hits my cheek with the back of his hand. The stones of his rings suffocating his pudgy fingers make my face bleed. I look up, the vision of my right eye still blurry, I see a Bravil guard starring directly at us. My brother looks over to him and back at me.
“This is coming out of your pay, peasant.” He draws out a few gold coins from his regal jacket pocket and walks over to the guard. After their exchange Vikus disappears and I continue on my way home. A barrel of wine from Valenwood was delivered to me while I was away. On the new glassware next to it was a note.
Dear Valera,
I hope all is well with you. This wine was made from the finest fruits. It’s one of your father’s favorites. We send you this gift in hopes you find a new storekeep with utmost haste. She was found dead in store and since business has been down. Our trusted housecarl does not make the best salesman.
Regards, V.R.
My mother signs “V.R.” not to give away that they’d even notice someone like me. Though anyone with a brain could figure it out. All of use have the V.R. initials. Victoria Romanus is mother, Varen Romanus my father, and of course my lovely brother Vikus. The only exception would be myself. I was born Valera Romanus, beautiful peasant daughter with blue eyes and chestnut brown hair. Not until my family’s big plan for fortune when I became Val Brimus. The story I had to make up was that the Brimus family were blacksmiths, and not very good ones at that. Father Brimus caused a house fire that killed everyone but myself. So here I remain a secretly rich peasant, but for now I will just be wine drunk…
*
Today is a busy day and I’m still half drunk. A shipment of fabric finally came in from Hammerfell. Lots and lots of silk and jewels. Father instructed me to prepare an elegant dress for the woman unfortunate enough to marry Vikus. This proves a challenge since he has yet to find a suitable “bitch.”
“Hey there, sweet roll.” Hand on ass. I unsheathe my ebony dagger, turn around and poke him the gut.
“You watch yourself, prick.”
“Looks like you’re the one doing the pricking, huh, sweet roll?” He backs away and heads over to his table where there lay a pair of unfinished white gloves will wear for a party. The party our family is holding for Count Regulus’ daughter’s birthday. I think my parents invited them to hook my brother up. So my brother would not only have Romanus Manor and the business, but have all of Bravil. There’s no way she’ll go for it though. No amount of coin would convince a lady to lay with Vikus.
Secretly I wish I could go. I want to wear a dress my favorite skooma slinger made, dance with a man that doesn’t smell like dirt and fish. Someone that calls me nice things like “beautiful” or “princess.” Really anything but “sweet roll.” Oh how I loathe the drunken Nord, my foul brother, my sellout parents. Why is it that the skums are the ones I trust the most? They and I know they need me. I provide for these worthless people. Without me they would suffer, beg for just one more coin, just one more fix. I wish my family knew how much they needed me. Who else would do this job? The housecarl? Can’t even sell a hat. My brother? Now that’s just a joke. No one needs him. He could collapse and die tomorrow and it would not affect business or me for that matter. In fact I would benefit from his demise.
Now there’s a thought. Kill him at the Romanus Ball somehow. Then my parents will need a new heir. I would fall out of the sky and declare, “I am Valera Romanus! Now rightful heir of Romanus Manor and the family business!” Then a handsome young prince would sweep me off my feet! Tske me far away and I would never have to hear the name Brimus again!
Now I’m talking madness. I will forever be this; forever be Val, one day serving under my brother. One day he will marry and have children of his own. I wonder about the child he sends down here with me. What will their fake name be? Will they be staring down a bottle of skooma at the end of sunlight after everyone has left? Like I am now? I’ve never tried it, drinking has always been my vice. Like Cyrodiillic Brandy or my favorite fruity wine at the moment, but today I’m feeling low. I need to feel high, above everyone else, above my fucking brother and the whole dirty world I live in. I take but a sip and my head starts to swim and my stomach feels warm. I take another drink, but a big one this time and my face feels numb. Suddenly my blood is raging through me faster than Quick Flow River, which name is self-explained.
I stand up and my hands start to shake. I start walking toward the sewer gate that leads out to the river, but my strong stride is interrupted by a hand grabbing my wrist. I quickly turnaround and ready my weapon.
“Woah there, sweet roll, it’s just me.” My mind is still buzzing and my grip is as tight as his.
“That’s not anymore comforting, let go of me!” I couldn’t help but yell. All the energy in my body has nowhere else to escape from.
“I saw you ride on the skooma carriage.” My hearts drops and pound in my stomach. I can’t show weakness.
“Just testing product. M-making sure those Argonian bastards didn’t dilute it again,” my voice is shaky and still too loud. He doesn’t seem convinced, “B-because last time it happened ev-every-“ His dry, dirty index finger finds my lips. His hands smells of iron, as if he just dipped his hand in blood.
“It seems you’re a bit upset, sweet roll. Let me make it all better.” Now my whole body is buzzing, the tips of my fingers are numb, but I can feel where he’s touching me. He slowly trails his grubby hands on the side of my neck, down the middle of my torso, then shifts his whole body closer to me as I finally realized what he was doing.
“Stop,” I try moving backwards but my body is frozen. He pulls me forcefully towards him as he leans in to kiss me. I use the momentum and push him back, making him angry. He lets out a grunt and pushes me the same except I’m sent flying to the ground. I thought the skooma was going to keep me numb enough to not be hurt by the fall, but I felt every scattered rock, every shard of broken glass, every ounce of pride I had left seeping out of my pores in the form of sweat and tears. He doesn’t climb on top of me, breathing heavily on my face with his hot breathe that makes me gag. He claws at me like a wild animal, ripping away at my pants. I kick and flail my legs around frantically hoping it would delay him, but it only made him more determined. He reaches for my dagger and holds it to my throat.
“Do you like it now, sweet roll?” He pushes down on my neck and I can feel the skin start to break. I grab the hilt of the dagger over his hand and start to pray for my life. This is not the way anyone expects to die. Most see themselves fatally wounded in an epic noble battle. There’s nothing noble about to happen to my body after I expire, and the only way my family would know that my blood had flowed out my body is when the money stopped flowing. I use my other hand and grab the blade itself. He’s using all his massive body weight and my hand starts to bleed heavily. The blood drips onto my cheek and mixes with my tears, the loss of blood is making my dizzy. I use the last of the strength I have and the adrenaline starts pumping through me as I slide my injured hand where my other one is on the handle. With both my hands I maneuver the blade to it’s pointing right at him right as plunges himself closer to me, impaling himself in the neck.
He starts to suffocate on his own blood, coughing up hot liquid onto me. After a few moments his body goes limp on top of mine. I lay there, returning to a state of numbness. I manage to roll him off of my exposing my pants now in pieces. I use some of it to wrap my hand to stop the bleeding. I’m not sure when I’ll feel okay to get up, or at least to stop sobbing, but I need to get this body out of here. I attempt to stand up but it rips my already clotted up wound on my back. I let out a scream and start dragging his body anyway. I tug, my mouth is dry. I tug, the skooma has definitely already worn off. I tug, and take a deep breath as I tug again.
“May I help you with that?” I’m startled and I jump within my whole body, “don’t be afraid, child.” I turn around to see a tall man with a smile stretched across his face. His voice is raspy and almost reminds me of my father’s. He grabs one of the feet and gestures for me to grab the other one. We drag him in unison the rest of the way, me swallowing every ounce of pain. Last thing I need is to show some stranger my weakness as well. I get satisfaction from hearing the Nord’s body ripping against the glass on the floor, as a trail of blood follows us.
I still don’t know why this man is helping me; though right now I’m not quite thinking of the consequences. I cant get my mind off the fact that I’m without pants. We finally reach the river, and before tossing the disgusting Nord’s body into the river, the man hands me his robe to cover myself. I look down at the limp body and let out a soft chuckle before using my leg to shove his body into Quick Flow. I feel and overwhelming sensation of relief. No more shall I be called “sweet roll.” I sigh deeply and look up to face the man, but he’s gone. I half expected him to be behind me, ready to pounce just like the Nord, but he wasn’t there either. He was just gone. The air around me is silent, not even the sound of breeze through the barren tree branches.
I take this opportunity to hurry home. As I’m looking around at all the fancy things that normally gave me displeasure because it reminded me of my selfish family, I’m feeling grateful. I could be dead, maybe should be, but for whatever reason I’m still alive and so very tired. Through all the pain I’m still suffering it doesn’t take long to fall asleep.
You’d think being a noble in the town of Bravil doesn’t mean much; well you’re wrong. Sure this town is full of low class races like the Argonians and drugs like skooma. Beggars huddle by the main gate panhandling and traders who come into town. Though all that sounds unappealing, there is money to be made here. My parents were born poor Imperials so they know just how to deal with these low-life’s. Under Count Regulus’ nose we’ve been running a sweat shop in a secret room in the sewer underneath the city. We employ lost children, druggies, and well, whoever I can convince to work for nearly nothing.
Yes, I am the head of the operation. My parents reap all the benefits, while I’m the one getting dirty. The city doesn’t even know I’m a Romanus.That name can’t be soiled by someone who spends most of their time underground. Don’t worry I’m still completely taken care of. Dad bought me a room under the skooma den. Furnished entirely with the softest fabrics, the most elegant wood carved and imported by the most talented woodworkers in Tamriel. All of this to make up for the fact that my last name does not match their’s.
My brother is now of age to find a wife and become the true holder of Romanus Manor. He shall not find love though; he is the most unpleasant person I have ever met – did I mention I hang out with skum in the sewers? He should be the one down here handing out skooma samples to keepmy workers happy. Having his ass slapped by a sloppy Nord whom, no matter how many times I hold a dagger to his throat, will still call me “sweet roll.”
I’m locking up for the day. Most of my employees are thieves, but they are no Grey Fox. I seal the doors with a master lock and place a ward that a traveling mage from Skyrim taught me. On my way to my own inside-out-manor, my brother stops me.
“Peasant,” I scoff and keep walking but he continues, “I must speak to you.”
“Make it fast, fancy pants,” He leans in, his breath smelling of mead and perfume.
“Sales are down.” He says in such a matter-of-fact way with his hand on my shoulder. I brush him off and back away.
“Not that it concerns you, brother.” He covers my mouth with his large, yet delicate princess hands.
“You shut your whore mouth!” He lowers his voice and his hand, “You address me as Lord Vikus Romanus, and this will soon be my business after I find a bitch to lay with.”
“You are no lord! You are skum, and you know nothing of business. You are a spoiled brat who still suck on mother’s tits!” Swiftly, he hits my cheek with the back of his hand. The stones of his rings suffocating his pudgy fingers make my face bleed. I look up, the vision of my right eye still blurry, I see a Bravil guard starring directly at us. My brother looks over to him and back at me.
“This is coming out of your pay, peasant.” He draws out a few gold coins from his regal jacket pocket and walks over to the guard. After their exchange Vikus disappears and I continue on my way home. A barrel of wine from Valenwood was delivered to me while I was away. On the new glassware next to it was a note.
Dear Valera,
I hope all is well with you. This wine was made from the finest fruits. It’s one of your father’s favorites. We send you this gift in hopes you find a new storekeep with utmost haste. She was found dead in store and since business has been down. Our trusted housecarl does not make the best salesman.
Regards, V.R.
My mother signs “V.R.” not to give away that they’d even notice someone like me. Though anyone with a brain could figure it out. All of use have the V.R. initials. Victoria Romanus is mother, Varen Romanus my father, and of course my lovely brother Vikus. The only exception would be myself. I was born Valera Romanus, beautiful peasant daughter with blue eyes and chestnut brown hair. Not until my family’s big plan for fortune when I became Val Brimus. The story I had to make up was that the Brimus family were blacksmiths, and not very good ones at that. Father Brimus caused a house fire that killed everyone but myself. So here I remain a secretly rich peasant, but for now I will just be wine drunk…
*
Today is a busy day and I’m still half drunk. A shipment of fabric finally came in from Hammerfell. Lots and lots of silk and jewels. Father instructed me to prepare an elegant dress for the woman unfortunate enough to marry Vikus. This proves a challenge since he has yet to find a suitable “bitch.”
“Hey there, sweet roll.” Hand on ass. I unsheathe my ebony dagger, turn around and poke him the gut.
“You watch yourself, prick.”
“Looks like you’re the one doing the pricking, huh, sweet roll?” He backs away and heads over to his table where there lay a pair of unfinished white gloves will wear for a party. The party our family is holding for Count Regulus’ daughter’s birthday. I think my parents invited them to hook my brother up. So my brother would not only have Romanus Manor and the business, but have all of Bravil. There’s no way she’ll go for it though. No amount of coin would convince a lady to lay with Vikus.
Secretly I wish I could go. I want to wear a dress my favorite skooma slinger made, dance with a man that doesn’t smell like dirt and fish. Someone that calls me nice things like “beautiful” or “princess.” Really anything but “sweet roll.” Oh how I loathe the drunken Nord, my foul brother, my sellout parents. Why is it that the skums are the ones I trust the most? They and I know they need me. I provide for these worthless people. Without me they would suffer, beg for just one more coin, just one more fix. I wish my family knew how much they needed me. Who else would do this job? The housecarl? Can’t even sell a hat. My brother? Now that’s just a joke. No one needs him. He could collapse and die tomorrow and it would not affect business or me for that matter. In fact I would benefit from his demise.
Now there’s a thought. Kill him at the Romanus Ball somehow. Then my parents will need a new heir. I would fall out of the sky and declare, “I am Valera Romanus! Now rightful heir of Romanus Manor and the family business!” Then a handsome young prince would sweep me off my feet! Tske me far away and I would never have to hear the name Brimus again!
Now I’m talking madness. I will forever be this; forever be Val, one day serving under my brother. One day he will marry and have children of his own. I wonder about the child he sends down here with me. What will their fake name be? Will they be staring down a bottle of skooma at the end of sunlight after everyone has left? Like I am now? I’ve never tried it, drinking has always been my vice. Like Cyrodiillic Brandy or my favorite fruity wine at the moment, but today I’m feeling low. I need to feel high, above everyone else, above my fucking brother and the whole dirty world I live in. I take but a sip and my head starts to swim and my stomach feels warm. I take another drink, but a big one this time and my face feels numb. Suddenly my blood is raging through me faster than Quick Flow River, which name is self-explained.
I stand up and my hands start to shake. I start walking toward the sewer gate that leads out to the river, but my strong stride is interrupted by a hand grabbing my wrist. I quickly turnaround and ready my weapon.
“Woah there, sweet roll, it’s just me.” My mind is still buzzing and my grip is as tight as his.
“That’s not anymore comforting, let go of me!” I couldn’t help but yell. All the energy in my body has nowhere else to escape from.
“I saw you ride on the skooma carriage.” My hearts drops and pound in my stomach. I can’t show weakness.
“Just testing product. M-making sure those Argonian bastards didn’t dilute it again,” my voice is shaky and still too loud. He doesn’t seem convinced, “B-because last time it happened ev-every-“ His dry, dirty index finger finds my lips. His hands smells of iron, as if he just dipped his hand in blood.
“It seems you’re a bit upset, sweet roll. Let me make it all better.” Now my whole body is buzzing, the tips of my fingers are numb, but I can feel where he’s touching me. He slowly trails his grubby hands on the side of my neck, down the middle of my torso, then shifts his whole body closer to me as I finally realized what he was doing.
“Stop,” I try moving backwards but my body is frozen. He pulls me forcefully towards him as he leans in to kiss me. I use the momentum and push him back, making him angry. He lets out a grunt and pushes me the same except I’m sent flying to the ground. I thought the skooma was going to keep me numb enough to not be hurt by the fall, but I felt every scattered rock, every shard of broken glass, every ounce of pride I had left seeping out of my pores in the form of sweat and tears. He doesn’t climb on top of me, breathing heavily on my face with his hot breathe that makes me gag. He claws at me like a wild animal, ripping away at my pants. I kick and flail my legs around frantically hoping it would delay him, but it only made him more determined. He reaches for my dagger and holds it to my throat.
“Do you like it now, sweet roll?” He pushes down on my neck and I can feel the skin start to break. I grab the hilt of the dagger over his hand and start to pray for my life. This is not the way anyone expects to die. Most see themselves fatally wounded in an epic noble battle. There’s nothing noble about to happen to my body after I expire, and the only way my family would know that my blood had flowed out my body is when the money stopped flowing. I use my other hand and grab the blade itself. He’s using all his massive body weight and my hand starts to bleed heavily. The blood drips onto my cheek and mixes with my tears, the loss of blood is making my dizzy. I use the last of the strength I have and the adrenaline starts pumping through me as I slide my injured hand where my other one is on the handle. With both my hands I maneuver the blade to it’s pointing right at him right as plunges himself closer to me, impaling himself in the neck.
He starts to suffocate on his own blood, coughing up hot liquid onto me. After a few moments his body goes limp on top of mine. I lay there, returning to a state of numbness. I manage to roll him off of my exposing my pants now in pieces. I use some of it to wrap my hand to stop the bleeding. I’m not sure when I’ll feel okay to get up, or at least to stop sobbing, but I need to get this body out of here. I attempt to stand up but it rips my already clotted up wound on my back. I let out a scream and start dragging his body anyway. I tug, my mouth is dry. I tug, the skooma has definitely already worn off. I tug, and take a deep breath as I tug again.
“May I help you with that?” I’m startled and I jump within my whole body, “don’t be afraid, child.” I turn around to see a tall man with a smile stretched across his face. His voice is raspy and almost reminds me of my father’s. He grabs one of the feet and gestures for me to grab the other one. We drag him in unison the rest of the way, me swallowing every ounce of pain. Last thing I need is to show some stranger my weakness as well. I get satisfaction from hearing the Nord’s body ripping against the glass on the floor, as a trail of blood follows us.
I still don’t know why this man is helping me; though right now I’m not quite thinking of the consequences. I cant get my mind off the fact that I’m without pants. We finally reach the river, and before tossing the disgusting Nord’s body into the river, the man hands me his robe to cover myself. I look down at the limp body and let out a soft chuckle before using my leg to shove his body into Quick Flow. I feel and overwhelming sensation of relief. No more shall I be called “sweet roll.” I sigh deeply and look up to face the man, but he’s gone. I half expected him to be behind me, ready to pounce just like the Nord, but he wasn’t there either. He was just gone. The air around me is silent, not even the sound of breeze through the barren tree branches.
I take this opportunity to hurry home. As I’m looking around at all the fancy things that normally gave me displeasure because it reminded me of my selfish family, I’m feeling grateful. I could be dead, maybe should be, but for whatever reason I’m still alive and so very tired. Through all the pain I’m still suffering it doesn’t take long to fall asleep.
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