Adventure Seeker

The Bee and Barb was busy as Riften settled in for the evening, patrons talking and laughing over drinks. Two men sat and talked over dinner at a table in the corner, catching up after time apart. They were an odd pair, a young man with his older companion, but no one in Riften gave them a second glance.

"Here's to getting out of there alive," Desmond Ice-Fist said, raising his bottle of mead.

Martin Septim laughed, raising his own. "Hear, hear."

They drank to Helgen, where they had met nearly a year ago now. The civil war still raged on to the point where remembering who was in charge of a hold at the moment was nearly impossible. Dragon attacks still tore down houses and villages, but with far less frequency than before Alduin's fall in Sovngarde. Both of them had made friends and enemies alike in their various exploits, both together and apart.

"Which reminds me," Martin said, digging around in his rucksack for something. "Happy birthday."

"Hm?" Desmond set down his now empty bottle, peering curiously around the table at his companion's bag. "When'd I tell you that?"

"You mentioned it once," Martin said. "In a cell. You told me you were just seventeen last month. Which, now, I suppose is eighteen this month. Right?"

Desmond laughed. "Yeah! It's, ah, next week. On the eighth."

"Well, then I'm early." Martin set down a small box on the table. "Happy birthday."

Desmond picked up the box. It was very small and very light. Inside was a silver emerald ring that glowed faintly of green. "I'm flattered," he said. "But—"

"It's not a wedding thing," Martin said, exasperated.

"No, it's just—! I'm not a jewelry person," Desmond explained.

"I know, but hear me out. I've been practicing enchanting, and—"

"Oh gods, is it gonna explode?" Desmond cautiously set the ring back in the box. "It's not that I don't—"

Martin sighed dramatically. "If you must know, I had Amelie do this one."

"So you're on speaking terms again?" Desmond prodded playfully.

Martin opened his mouth to respond, then seemed to think better of whatever immediately came to his mind. "...Yes," he said hesitantly.

"Pff. All right," Desmond said, shrugging. Far be it from him to meddle in Martin's bizarre ghost affairs. "What's it do?"

"It should steady your aim with a bow," Martin said. "Or a crossbow. Anything that shoots, I suppose."

"Excellent!" Desmond slipped it onto the pointer finger of his left hand. It was a perfect fit, perhaps Martin was a better smith than Desmond ever gave him credit for. "I'm sure I'll put it to good use. Thanks."

"Enjoy it." Martin sat back in his chair with a contented sigh. "It truly is nice to relax for a change."

"Right?" Desmond laughed. "Ain't that the truth. Feel like I've been running ragged these past couple weeks."

"Where are you off to next?"

"That fort east of Riften I mentioned a few months back," he said. "Fort Dawnguard. Going to fight off the vampires."

"You still haven't gone?"

"I keep meaning to, but stuff just keeps coming up. Bandit raids, Dark Brotherhood assassins—"

"You've got them too?" Martin asked.

"Yup."

Martin scowled bitterly. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. Kinda darkly flattering," Desmond admitted. "Someone hates me enough to Black Sacrament me, it's like a weird compliment."

"That's one way to picture it."

"What about you?" Desmond said. "Heard you were taking down werewolves in Falkreath."

"I—that's what you heard?" Martin demanded. "That is not what happened."

"Fine. What's next, then?" Desmond asked. "Wanna come with me?"

Martin shook his head. "Maybe another time. I need to head back to the Temple of Mara, and then I have some business in Winterhold to attend to."

"Sounds... fun."

Martin waved him off, pulling a face. "Run off to your fort, then."

Desmond laughed. "Think I'll take off in the morning. Bit of a trek, it's out in the mountains."

"I should probably leave tonight. I would rather ride in the dark and get there in the morning rather than spend the whole day in Winterhold and need to walk back at night."

"Night travel's not safe," Desmond warned. "Vampires."

"Well, if you'd deal with them—"

"I will!" Desmond snapped, grinning.

"Good." Martin got up, stretching. "I'll try to avoid being out after dark... Oh, give me your map a moment."

"Eh? What for?" Desmond produced his well-worn and scribbled-upon map anyway, watching Martin mark a spot in the center of Skyrim.

"I've bought a house, and—"

"How?" Desmond asked. "Aren't you broke?"

"I am now," Martin said. "But—no, the point is, I bought a piece of land and I'm going to build a house there."

"You're going to build a house? You?" Desmond eyed him suspiciously. "You can't even lift a shield, how are you gonna handle logs and stones?"

"I already have a sort of cabin put up," Martin said defensively. "If you ever need me, check there rather than the Temple from now on."

"Got it." Desmond took back his map, standing up as well. "Call it a night. See you again?"

Martin nodded. "Be safe out there."

"I'll be safe when the world is safe," Desmond said.

"Then fight bravely."

Desmond grinned. "I intend to."

Fort Dawnguard was far to the east of Skyrim, and the canyon that led to it had been incredibly easy to miss. Desmond felt certain he'd walked past it at least twice in his search for the crevice that led into it. But, once inside, Desmond was glad he had finally decided to come.

Waterfalls with crowns of ice that still clung to Skyrim's cold flowed down from the cliffs above. The canyon was chill, but still green with life as summer gave way to fall. The entire place was more or less deserted, only one other on the path leading to Fort Dawnguard.,

"Oh, hey there!"

"Hey," Desmond said, waving. A handsome young boy who looked to be about his age waved back.

"Are you here to join the Dawnguard too?" asked the stranger.

"That's the plan. You too, huh?" Desmond guessed.

"Yeah. Truth is, I'm a little nervous. I've never done anything like this before. I hope you don't mind if I walk with you?"

Desmond laughed. "Sure, yeah. I'm Desmond."

"Agmaer. Good to meet you." They set off together, following the path around the lake and towards the fort. Agmaer was a little fidgety and definitely nervous. This was very clearly an intimidating new undertaking for him.

"Think there'll be a lot of us?" Desmond asked, looking around. No one had followed him into the canyon, and there didn't appear to be any other recruits as they followed the path up.

"Probably not. Oh hey, uh..."

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell Isran I was afraid to meet him by myself," Agmaer said sheepishly. "Not the best first impression for a future vampire hunter, I guess."

"Yeah. I mean, no, no worries," Desmond said quickly. "I get it. Where you from?"

"Falkreath," Agmaer answered. "Born and raised. This is my first time out and about."

"Really? That's... neat," Desmond said, trying not to make Agmaer any more anxious than he already seemed to be. "Nice... nice place, Falkreath."

"What about you?"

"Oh. Born in Windhelm, raised in Riften," Desmond said. "I've been all over now, though."

"Wow. You've probably killed lots of vampires, huh?" Agmaer pressed.

"Not really," Desmond said, thinking back on the past several months. "I mean, there've been more vampires recently, but mostly..." He broke off.

"What?"

"Just, y'know, bandits 'n stuff," he covered quickly. "Wolves. You know how it is."

Agmaer laughed hollowly, his nerves still getting the best of him. "Yeah. I'm sure Isran will sign you right up. Not sure he'll take me. I hope so."

"I'm sure he will," Desmond said kindly as they rounded a corner.

Fort Dawnguard loomed over them, large stone towers reaching high into the sky. The fort was enormous, impressive for something so far removed from the rest of Skyrim. Desmond looked up at it, imagining fighters and hunters all preparing for battle within it.

"That must be it. Fort Dawnguard," said Agmaer.

"Wow. Bigger than I expected." The pair of them continued down the path, the canyon still eerily silent.

"Where is everybody?" Agmaer asked. They passed only two people on the way in to the fort proper: an Orc practicing with a crossbow, and a Breton man standing on the steps of the fort.

"Here to join the Dawnguard?" the Breton asked.

"Yes, sir," Desmond said at once.

The Breton laughed. "Good. Isran will decide if you've got what it takes. Go on, he's right inside."

"Shall we?" Desmond asked Agmaer, pushing the big double doors open.

The inside of Fort Dawnguard was significantly less impressive than the intimidating exterior. The fort was dimly lit and smelled of dust and cobwebs. Boxes and crates were pushed against the walls, leaving a large, circular area clear before them. A Redguard man with a heavy warhammer on his back stood speaking to someone clad in a vigilant's robes. They appeared to be arguing. Agmaer hung back by the door, and Desmond did the same. He'd learned early on that intruding on older folks while they were arguing was always a bad idea.

"Why are you here, Tolan?" the Redguard asked, his voice deep and gravelly. "The Vigilants and I were finished with each other a long time ago."

"You know why I'm here," the Vigilant shot back. "Vigilants are under attack everywhere! The vampires are much more dangerous than we believed!"

Desmond crossed his arms, shifting his weight between his feet. That certainly didn't bode well... perhaps he'd waited a bit too long to follow up on this.

"And now you want to come running to safety with the Dawnguard, is that it?" the Redguard snapped. "I remember Keeper Carcette telling me repeatedly that Fort Dawnguard is a crumbling ruin, not worth the expense and manpower to repair. And now that you've stirred up the vampires against you, you come begging for my protection?"

Vigilant Tolan glowered at him. "Isran... Carcette is dead. The Dall of the Vigilants, everyone... they're all dead. You were right, we were wrong, isn't that enough for you?"

Isran's brows knitted together, though his expression couldn't quite be called sad. "Yes, well... I never wanted any of this to happen. I tried to warn all of you. I am... sorry, you know."

Isran turned from the Vigilant to the two boys by the door. "You there. Stop skulking in the shadows and step up here."

Desmond cast a glance at Agmaer. The poor boy had gone pale, and inched forward as Isran spoke.

"What's your name?"

"I'm, uh... my name is Agmaer, sir."

"Do I look like a sir to you, boy? I'm not a soldier, and you're not joining the army," Isran said harshly.

Agmaer flinched a bit, recoiling from Isran's voice. "Yes, si... Isran."

"Farm boy, eh? What's your weapon?"

"Uh, my weapon?" Agmaer swallowed hard, petrified. "I mostly just use my pa's axe, when wolves are attacking the goats or something."

Isran shook his head, laughing. "'My pa's axe.' Stendarr preserve us." He shot a look at Desmond, still standing by the door. "Didn't I tell you to step forward? Who are you? What do you want?"

"Desmond Ice-Fist, here for the vampires," Desmond said, walking forward to stand beside Agmaer.

Isran looked him up and down, clearly not impressed. "I'm glad word's finally started to get around, but that means it won't be long before the vampires start to take notice as well."

"So let's get started. What can I do?" Desmond asked.

Isran frowned at him. "What makes either of you think you've come to the right place?"

"I want to fight vampires," Agmaer said, surprisingly quickly. "That's... that's why I came."

"Same. I'd heard you were looking for vampire hunters. Is that not the case?" Desmond said pointedly.

Isran narrowed his eyes at Desmond. "How old are you, boy?"

"Eighteen next week." Desmond stared firmly back at Isran, arms defiantly crossed. After dragons and daedra, Isran certainly did not scare him. "So are you vampire hunters or not?"

Isran was silent for a moment. "You heard right. I think we can make Dawnguards out of you two."

"Good. Where do we start?" Desmond asked.

"You start with a crossbow—"

"Done." Desmond pulled his crossbow off his back, eager to get moving. "Now wh—"

"Where in Oblivion did you get that?" Isran demanded. "Crossbows are a Dawnguard specialty."

Desmond hesitated, his heart stopping for a moment. Where on earth had Sarika gotten it? "Found it in a bandit camp," he said quickly.

Isran grumbled something under his breath. "Wouldn't surprise me... need to get better security around this place," he scoffed. "Either of you know how to shoot?"

"No, sir," Agmaer said. "I mean—"

"Take a few shots at those crates over there. Watch the recoil, takes some getting used to," Isran directed, passing Agmaer a crossbow. "What about you?"

"It's served me well taking down dragons," Desmond said pointedly. "I figure little bloodsuckers won't stand a chance."

"Damned right they won't."

"So what now?" Desmond asked, watching Agmaer cautiously aim his new crossbow and hanging his own on his back again.

Isran crossed his arms, looking him over with a new appreciation. "I need someone out in the field, taking the fight to the damn vampires while we're getting the fort back in shape. Tolan was telling me about some cave the vigilants were poking around in... seems to think it was related to these vampire attacks."

"Great."

"Tolan, tell him about... what was it, Dimhollow?"

"Yes, that's it." The Vigilant, who had been silently watching until now, turned his attention to Desmond. "Dimhollow Crypt. Brother Adalvald was sure it held some long-lost vampire artifact of some kind. We didn't listen to him any more than we did Isran."

"That's good enough for me," said Isran, nodding to Desmond. "Go see what the vampires were looking for in this Dimhollow Crypt. With any luck, they'll still be there."

"Sure," Desmond said.

"I'll meet you at Dimhollow," Tolan added. "It's the least I can do to avenge my fallen comrades."

"Tolan, I don't think that's a good idea," Isran said cautiously. "You Vigilants were never trained to—"

"I know what you think of us!" Tolan snapped. Desmond stepped back on instinct, nearly bumping into Agmaer. "You think we're soft, that we're cowards. You think our deaths proved our weakness!" Tolan went on. "Stendarr grant that you do not have to face the same test and be found wanting."

The fort fell silent. Desmond looked between Isran and Tolan, unwilling to say anything to break the tension and direct their ire at him.

Tolan cast him a glance as he turned to leave. "I'm going to Dimhollow Crypt. Perhaps I can be of some small assistance to you."

The doors closed behind Tolan, echoing around the empty halls of Fort Dawnguard. Agmaer resumed his target practice at the crates.

"So..." Desmond broke off, at a loss.

"Feel free to look around the fort," Isran said. "You're welcome to anything you can use."

"Got any more bolts hidden away somewhere?" Desmond asked.

"Plenty. I'll go dig some up."

Isran left the entry hall, leaving Desmond to watch Agmaer's continued attempts to use the crossbow. Most of his shots splintered between the boards of the crates rather than lodging the bolt in the center.

"Aim up," Desmond advised.

"Huh?" Agmaer's shot faltered again, a bolt clattering to the ground as it bounced back off the stone wall.

"I know what you're trying to do," Desmond said, readying his own crossbow. "Trust me, I've been there. Aim a bit higher than you think you need to, like..." Desmond copied Amgaer's stance, trying to see what he was aiming at. There was a small knot in the center of one of the boards on the crate, without a single bolt around it. "If you aim right at it, right?" Desmond's shot fell a few inches too low. "So you aim up," he instructed, reloading the bow and taking another shot. It landed dead center.

"Nice shot."

"Just takes some practice." Desmond pulled the bolts back out of the crate. "Give it another go."

Amgamer raised his crossbow again, his aim uncertain as he tipped the bow to a higher angle.

"Aim up. I'm not kidding, up," Desmond said. Agmaer obeyed, and the next bolt landed nearer to the center knot than any of his past ones. "See?"

"Thanks," said Agmaer, beaming at him.

"Now you're getting it."

Agmaer took aim again. "So you've killed dragons?" he asked.

"Not by myself," Desmond added quickly. "I mean, but, uh... yeah, dragons."

"Wow. What're you doing here, then?" Agmaer shot again, every bolt landing closer and closer to the center knot. "Doesn't Skyrim need you?"

"If Skyrim needs me, she's got a funny way of asking," Desmond said. "It's not really me that kills the dragons, anyway. I just help. And not so much, since Alduin died."

Agmaer took another shot. "Are you a guard or something?"

Desmond laughed. "Guard? No! I'm just an adventurer," he said. "My friend Martin and I—"

"Martin the Dragonborn?" Agmaer asked, lowering his crossbow in shock. "Really?"

Desmond hid a sigh. "Yeah, him."

"Wow. That's, that's so cool."

"Yeah." Desmond took a shot at the crates, landing dead center again. "Yeah, it's pretty cool."

"Bolts for the new Dawnguards." Isran returned with a pair of quivers, full of fresh steel bolts. "Get off to Dimhollow."

"I will," Desmond said, taking a quiver for himself. "Just figured I'd give Tolan a... a bit of space."

"Probably wise. Don't be too long," Isran said. "Report back whatever you find. And avoid sleep if you can," he advised. "Sleep is for the weak."

Agmaer awkwardly accepted a quiver of bolts and returned his attention to his crate. Isran's intimidating presence seemed to have a negative effect on his ability to aim properly.

"Hey. Wanna come with me?" Desmond asked Agmaer. "I could show you more crossbow stuff."

Agmaer hesitated, taking another shot at the crate. It fell several inches from the center of the crate. "Uh... no. I think I'll sit this one out," he said, anxiously reloading. "At least until I can shoot right."

Desmond nodded slowly. "Sure. All right, I'll be back, then."

He left the fort, alone again.

"Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Martin Septim before he reaches Solstheim. Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased."

Desmond frowned at the note left in the cracks of the door to the little house in the Pale. The house was less a house and more a rickety, dangerously leaning shack, and it seemed to be empty. He turned the note over, finding a few scribbled words from Martin.

"I have gone to Solstheim to settle the score with Miraak. Best of luck with the Dawnguard, I will see you when we return. —Martin"

He laughed. Ah, well, coming here had been a bit of a long shot. Dimhollow Crypt sat halfway betwen Morthal and Dawnstar, but it seemed Desmond had just missed Martin. Such the better, there was no time to waste in the war on the vampires. Desmond took off down the path, keeping an eye on the sun. The vampires were getting bolder, attacking in daylight. Traveling alone still made him a bit anxious, but not nearly enough to keep him from whatever awaited in Dimhollow Crypt.