"Gather round, children, gather round. The sooner this final story is done with, the sooner we can get some sleep. We have a long journey tomorrow, all the way up to a small place called", the priest held up a piece of parchment that had a map scrawled on it, and peered at the marks made with squinting eyes, "Whiterun."
"Whiterun?" A high pitched voice broke the silent pause among the crowd of orphans. "These damn Nords have names for everything."
"Alessandria." The priest gathered his robe up as he stood up to prevent treading it into the dirt, and swiftly strode over to the young girl, looking down upon her and frowning. "For the sake of the eight divines, you can't say such things. Do you really think a bunch of Redguards and Argonians are going to be accepted so easily? And with you running amock…"
As he uttered the last words, he turned his feet, kicking a few dead leaves as he did so, and walked back over to the log with the other guardians.
Before he could wipe the sweat from his brow and perch on the uncomfortable seat in the camp in the forest, a murmur wandered through the clearing.
"There are actually nine gods." He turned back quickly to see the outspoken little girl glancing at her dirty fingernails and grinning to herself.
After opening his mouth to punish her for such a statement in Skyrim and raising a wrinkled hand, he closed it,lowered him arm, and continued with his actions.
He shuffled on the seat to gain a more comfortable position and waited for the orphans to brush their greasy hair out of their eyes, and sit still.
"Now." The priest started removing his hood and then shot an orb of bright light to a large tree nearby. The children looked at this fine display of magic and awe. Whilst rubbing his hands together, he began:
"Our next and final tale", the children interrupted with subtle groans, "takes place in our next and final destination: Whiterun. As you will know, there is much speculation of who began the financing of the large collection of orphanages surrounding the cities of Skyrim, but nevertheless, the stories grow with each and every day.
"The most popular, the most common story, is that of the Dovahkiin."
"What's a dova…dovi…?" The children enquired.
"Dovahkiin, means Dragonborn. The saviour of all of Skyrim." Alessandria's voice grew louder as she explained the legend, standing up on her thin legs amongst the rows of the small children and bringing her hand to her heart. "A brave warrior," She mimicked the actions of the soldiers of the past war, "an arch mage of the College of Windhelm," she thrust her hands as if casting spells which brought a tender smile to the priest's face, "and a dangerous lover." She swooned and fell to the ground in a fit of pretend fainting.
"Yes, Alessandria, well done." He raised his hands to silence the giggling children.
"You really are the know-it-all of Tamriel, aren't you?" He continued, chuckling as the orphans settled once again. "Alessandria, our fine actor, is correct. Well, in some cases. She fought for the Imperials in the War, apparently killing Ulfric herself with her blade… She learnt her magic at the College of Windhelm, frequently visiting the premises in times of need, as the legend follows, but stays most often in one place. Her home, Whiterun."
The children were enthralled by the introduction, and leaned in, closer and closer, desperate to hear the story.
"They say she began reforming the orphanages of Riften, but that is a story for another night. Tonight's tale is about vampires. The story follows that she stumbled upon Dawnguard by accident, ("an ancient organisation protecting us from vampires. Duh?") whilst searching for the lost weapons of an old friend which were hidden deep within an ancient Dwemer settlement. When asked to investigate an area surrounded by vampires she found a young women with none another than an Elder Scroll on her back!"
Gasps ensued from the audience.
"The details are unknown, but it is said, that she visited the realm of the Soul Cairn and defeated Lord Harkon, the father of the young girl, all after being turned into a vampire! She is apparently cured of such a lifestyle, but seeks other vampires and persuades them to her cause. She doesn't allow them to feed on innocents, no, but trains them and employs them to protect the orphanages, feasting on those that attempt to hurt the children."
As the Priest finished, the children's eyes were wide with awe. A sharp gust of wind broke the silence, and the trees rusted violently around them, disguising the sounds of the night.
The priest clapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly and laughed.
"Right! Time for bed!" The Children moved quickly to their tents, looking around as if to see a vampire standing behind them, ready to pounce and drink their blood.
All but Alessandria and her group of friends went to the tents. They sat around behind their tent, giggling quietly about the tales of the evening.
"It's a bunch of old wives tales, I'm telling you. Vampires? Dwemer settlements? I've heard a better story in 'Kolb and the Dragon'. Why can't we hear gorier, scarier stories?"
Alessandria acted out being a ghost, making wooing sounds and tickling her friends who shrieked.
As she wiped a smudge of dirt off her nose and wiped her hand off on her already dirty dress, she heard a small thud and a soft moan behind her.
She turned quickly in shock to see a dead Stormcloak soldier behind her, his arms outstretched, an iron dagger clutched in a bloodied hand.
As she opened her mouth to scream, a hand covered her mouth.
After the stranger released her from their firm grip, she turned to see a cloaked figure back away and wrench a dark arrow out of the Stormcloaks calf, then scurrying up a tree, their orange eyes glowing in the darkness.
Still in awe of what they had just witnessed, their silence continued as they saw another figure, a man wearing Thalmor armour, leap down onto the body from the oak tree above them and clasp their jaw around the neck of the apparent criminal.
After drinking their blood, he searched through the various pockets of the soldier and shoved the numerous glistening objects into a sack. He threw it over his back, and after smiling at the gawping children and wiping the blood from their mouth, climbed up another tree using a bejewelled dagger as an aid.
Five minutes passed of the girls staring up at the figures in the trees in fear, until Alessandria felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Time for bed, don't you agree?" The priest said, leading the girls into their tent and looking around cautiously behind him.
The priest then wandered back to the spot the girls had sat on, smiled, and looked up to Sandrancia, whose eyes still glowed in the darkness as she sat on a branch of a tree, bow in hand
He nodded at her, and she nodded back.
As he turned around and headed back to his tent with the other priests who were currently saying their daily prayers, Sandrancia spoke in a sharp whisper.
"They know."
"Who knows? The children? They are too old to believe such tales of the Dovahkiin…" He laughed as he walked towards the tree and looked up to her.
"No. The cultists. They know." She let a piece of parchment float down in the evening breeze to him.
He caught it, and glanced at the demands for these cultists to find Sandrancia.
"We have seen such threats before, my dear. It is nothing new, you know that."
She jumped down from the tree and faced him with frustration, perhaps even desperation in her eyes.
"The last time I killed a dragon, in some forgotten city of Solsthiem, something felt different, wrong. Something is wrong. I asked the historians, the mages, the owners of the damn taverns. They know the story."
She turned back to the tree and slowly climbed up the trunk.
"Not all stories are true, you know."
She turned to him with one leg hoisted up on a branch, and tossed a sheathed dagger towards him.
"But some are." She finished climbing up the tree and hid in the branches, waiting for the next attack from thieves, the beasts of the forests and whatever else had followed their path.