Episode 5: The Guilded Age

  Chapter 1

  Someone had tied a big slate to the sinuous beige stem of the academy's emperor parasol. Bold white letters on the slate proclaimed the following:

  All Honored Students of Drenlyn Academy:

  I am pleased to announce that many of the most esteemed families and notable institutions within Balmora are opening their doors to Drenlyn students this month. You are being presented with a fantastic opportunity to apply the skills you have learned within these walls and to make valuable connections that will serve you (and the academy) well in the future.

  I urge you all to take this chance to bring honor, and glory, to Drenlyn Academy, Great House Hlaalu, and the Empire that we all serve.

  Application is voluntary, but failure to apply will certainly harm your reputation.

  - Director Lli

  Beneath that was a long list of families, guilds, and companies eager for fresh young minds to exploit. Standing next to Jane, Daria didn't do more than skim her options.

  "If my reputation wasn't already as low as it could be, that last bit might actually sound like a threat," Daria said.

  "Come on, Daria, this is a great chance for you to alienate new people."

  "That still sounds like too much effort."

  Jane stepped forward to get a better look at her options. "Not much here for me."

  "You don't think you could wheedle a commission out of any of them?"

  "Oh, I know I could. But look at this: the EEC wants a clerk, the Sloan family wants a scribe, and the Shulk Egg Mine wants an egg miner. Won't have much time to do commissions if I'm doing any of those jobs."

  "I'm sure that transcribing endless lists of assets for the Sloan family would be a rich source of artistic inspiration," Daria said.

  "I think the only thing rich in that equation is them. Anyway, I have a professional excuse to not participate, and I'm not even sure Director Lli knows I attend this place."

  Considering that Jane rarely left Defoe's workshop, she might have a point.

  Daria smiled. "As for me, I look forward to seeing just how low my reputation can go."

  The two went their separate ways that afternoon; Jane headed off to a client, and Daria happy to go home. She dawdled at the river market for a bit and watched a burly Dunmer netchiman use a rope to pull his airborne beast above the crowd, its wiggling leathery tentacles colliding with the heads of annoyed passersby. She followed the netchiman from a healthy distance until one of the bull netch's tendrils hit the shoulder of a silk-robed Altmer and knocked him into the Odai's muddy waters. The resulting shouting match was a pretty good one by local standards.

  Once home, Daria retreated up to the room she shared with Quinn (her sister mercifully still about town) and took a seat by the window with her copy of Jarth's The Argonian Account. As the setting sun's rays reddened Balmora's flat roofs and narrow alleys, she lost herself in the text's descriptions of Black Marsh's tangled jungles and the way the native Argonians got from place to place by traversing the spacious digestive tracts of miles-long worms.

  She almost didn't notice when it got too dark, the black ink on the page becoming part and parcel of the shadows around it. She shut her eyes and opened them again to reorient herself. Time to get a candle.

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  "Daria!" Dad called from below. "Dinner's ready! I made some ash yams!"

  Great. More of Dad's questionable cooking. And right when the story was getting interesting. Resigned, she put the book on her bed and walked down to dinner.

  "One of my associates said ash yams make for great brain food," Dad said down below, as he gave each family member one of the spiky tubers. "Perfect to make my already brilliant daughters even smarter. I cooked it with some—"

  Quinn scooted closer to the table, her chair's legs scraping against the flagstones. "So the academy's having this big volunteer thing where you can make connections and stuff. I thought it sounded pretty boring, but then I found out that this big cloth importer was looking for someone. I'm sure she'll appreciate my fashion advice."

  "I'm proud of you, Quinn," Mom said. "That shows a lot of initiative." Her eyes swiveled to Daria. "And what have you volunteered for?"

  "I've volunteered my time for solitary self-cultivation," Daria said. Steam from the ash yam fogged her glasses, and she took them off, blinking in the dim candle-lit kitchen.

  Mom made a disappointed sound halfway between a sigh and a groan. "Daria, you need to be more outgoing. How do you intend to be a savant if you have so few social connections? You can't get by in that field just by knowing a lot of trivia."

  Without her glasses, her family became little more than vocal blurs sitting around the table. Steam still wafted in her eyes, thick with the yam's bittersweet aroma.

  "I'll just find some noble who's as anti-social as I am. Not like there's a shortage of weird aristocratic recluses."

  Daria didn't need to see her mother's face to immediately know she'd said the wrong thing. Mom's slow exhalation confirmed it.

  "Daria, we aren't in Cyrodiil anymore. This is not a friendly place for people like us."

  "I think it's friendly! I've made lots of friends here!" Quinn interjected.

  "Doesn't anyone want to try my yams?" Dad asked.

  "Oh?" Daria decided to push back. "If it's so unfriendly here, then why didn't we stay home? That way, we wouldn't have to work double-time just to be accepted."

  "You weren't accepted back home, either! What exactly is your long-term plan, Daria? Sit around the house reading for the rest of your life? Do you know how much we have to pay the Hlaalu Council Company to live here? What do you intend to do when we die? Hope some rich Dunmer will marry you?"

  Quinn laughed. "Good luck with that! I'll be the one who marries a handsome Dunmer aristocrat with a big country house out in the Ascadian Isles. Maybe if he has a nice brother or something, I'll introduce you."

  "The yams are getting cold!" Dad fretted.

  "Quiet, both of you!" Mom ordered. "Daria, you will find something to volunteer for tomorrow, and I expect you to make the most of it. That's final!"

  Daria gulped. How the hell was she supposed to network in a place like this? It was worse than back home. She recalled the crunch of her old glasses breaking beneath Synda's foot, the pain of the clubs hitting her back...

  Sitting in her room and reading might not be a good long-term solution, but it worked for the short term.

  Daria put her glasses back on. Mom's face was red. Quinn watched, waiting for one or the other to make the first move. Dad stared at his yams, his brow knitted in worry.

  "What were some of the volunteer options?" Mom asked, her voice level again.

  "Daria should try the Mages Guild," Quinn said. "All those guys do is read books in dark rooms. She'll fit right in."

  "I think that's an excellent idea, Quinn. And Daria, the intellectual atmosphere might make it easier for you to find like-minded friends."

  "I barely know magic," Daria protested. "Don't I get a say in this?"

  "Volunteers aren't expected to know much."

  Daria crossed her arms. "And I don't suppose the fact that you've represented the Mages Guild a few times has anything to do with this?"

  Mom met her gaze. "Why, yes, as a matter of fact, it does. The Mages Guild is an Empire-wide institution that offers countless opportunities. And if, while volunteering there, you find out they need legal advice, then please tell me. That way I can get more work with them, which is something that would benefit everyone at this table. Daria, see what you can do there. You might even have some fun!" Her voice turned unnaturally sweet at the last few words.

  "If no one else is going to try these yams I've been cooking since afternoon then I guess it's up to me to take the first bite!" Dad fumed.

  He grabbed the yam off his plate and ripped off a big chunk with his teeth. He chewed, jaws working and neck strained, staring at the family as if daring anyone to interrupt.

  Dad's eyes suddenly went wide. He spat it out onto the plate to the sound of Quinn's disgusted cry. Then he threw the rest of the yam with enough force to send it sailing across Mom's office and through the window into the street beyond.

  Musical Closer -