The Fall of Kvatch

It had come in the night, rising out of stone and earth, spewing fire and demons. Kvatch had fallen to the Great Gate and broken apart in a matter of minutes. There was no way to know who was left besides them, huddled in the Chapel of Akatosh with only a few soldiers for protection.

A priest stood near the back of the chapel, looking out the great stained glass window. The colors could not mask the angry flames that consumed the city, Akatosh himself could do nothing. Brother Martin prayed again, and again, for release and rescue. If Akatosh could not save them, who could?

The door to the chapel opened at long last. Soldiers entered the chapel to find the few shaken, but otherwise unharmed, civilians. Savlian Matius, what remained of his men, and three strangers had somehow beaten back the opposition to come to them.

"All right. Soldier, report," Kvatch's guard captain Savlian told one of the remaining guards. One of the strangers, a blonde Breton woman in heavy armor, conferred with another one of the guards. The other two, also Breton but both brown of hair, spoke softly with each other.

"Sir, we're all that's left," Tierra said, scrambling to her feet to meet Savlian. "Beirich Inian, myself, and these civilians."

Savlian looked around, taking a head count and visibly deflating. There were not many in the chapel. "That's it? There's no one else?"

"There were others, sir. But they refused to stay put. We tried to convince them it was dangerous, but they left anyway..." Tierra frowned. "I guess they didn't make it."

Savlian paused, looking back to the three strangers. None of them spoke. "Very well. The area outside the Chapel has been cleared, and these people need to be taken to safety. Escort them to the camp south of here at once."

"But sir! I want to help fight!"

"Savlian, I will escort them," one of the strangers, a brunette Breton woman in a burned, frayed blue dress, said. "You will need as much help as you can get in the coming fights."

"You sure?" asked the final stranger, the brunet Breton man. "I'm actually pretty sure they could find their own way down."

"I will take no chances," she said firmly.

The civilians gathered around her; she surveyed them all, looking for injuries or wounds. Nothing too serious. Quite a few of them would need patching up once they reached the encampment, though.

"All right. Take them down, be careful."

"Stay safe," the male stranger added.

"We will."

A small girl ran up to the woman leading them back, holding out her arms. Smiling, she picked the little girl up, carrying her as she led the civilians towards the site.

"What's your name, little one?" she asked.

"Bodin," she said.

"What a wonderful name," she said, carefully stepping over fallen rocks. "Where's your mother?"

"I dono."

The woman paused. "Not to worry, Bodin," she said. "We will find her."

They reached the encampment at long last, several of the survivors from the temple running to embrace friends and family members from whom they had been separated.

"...maybe she's still there, in a basement somewhere..."

"Mama!" Bodin squirmed in her arms, she placed her on the ground to watch her run towards her mother. "Mama!"

"Bodin? Oh, thank Akatosh!" The woman knelt down and hugged her daughter tightly, tears in her eyes. "Are you all right?"

Martin followed the survivors down, looking around at the sliver of hope set up near the ruins of Kvatch. Those of them that were left had been lucky. The sense of dread was lessening as loved ones returned, but the air in the encampment still hung heavily with loss.

"M-My lady!" The Redguard woman, now carrying Bodin, approached the stranger. "My name is Tavia. I cannot thank you enough for returning Bodin safely!"

"She's a sweet young girl," she said, nodding. "You are raising her well."

"Thank you... Weren't there two others with you?" Tavia asked as they walked through the encampment.

"Yes. My brother Jean Christophe and my sister Anna Marie are helping Savlian Matius retake the city," she explained. "I am here to offer whatever aid I can."

"Yours is a truly blessed soul," Tavia said gratefully. "It's people like you and your family that give me hope in these troubled times."

Martin turned as a family called out to him, requesting aid.

"I-I don't know how to stop the pain," a man said.

"Do not worry. Let me help..."

A few hours passed, spent in miscellaneous healing spells and alchemical mixtures. It was nearly nightfall when the other two strangers returned with Savlian Matius.

"How you holding up?" the man, Jean, asked, finally taking off his helmet. He was tall for a Breton, sandy hair and tanned skin streaked with soot from the burning city. He shucked off a bow and a quiver of arrows onto the ground, stretching. He was nearing fifty and his face bore the scars and bruises of a veteran soldier, but he had a deep, gentle voice that spoke quickly and with purpose to his two sisters. "Everything go ok?"

"Fine," the brunette said. "Uneventful." She was the frailest of the three, small, willowy and delicate-looking in her mid-thirties. If the flames flying from her fingertips towards the fire pit were any indication, though, she needed no protection. Her voice carried a formality to it that suggested she was well-spoken and widely read. She froze in her conversation, frowning. "What—"

"Bag," Jean said.

"Right." She opened her bag, rooting through it for something. "I think we all got a little burned though," she added, pulling out a potion bottle and showing him the burnt hems on her dress and sleeves. The end of her long brown braid was similarly singed and smoking. "Such are the dangers of Oblivion." She uncorked the bottle and poured a dose of potion out into her hands. It steamed as she rubbed it over her arms and face. "Burn salve?"

"Yes." Jean stuck out his hands, taking a palmful of potion to his face as well.

"That dress of yours was old, anyway," the blonde woman, Anna Marie, said, removing her gauntlets and helmet to take some of the salve. She was clearly the youngest of the three, on the cusp of twenty and thirty with a high voice, round face, and bright eyes. Her eyes, unlike the deep brown of her brother and sister, were clear and blue. Anna Marie and her sister were both head and shoulders shorter than her brother, but Anna Marie boasted a stocky frame built for heavy armor and serious weaponry. "We can get some nicer clothes when we get to Chorrol."

"I think it may be wise to buy an extra set of light clothes, as well," the brunette added, turning to a setup of borrowed alchemical apparatuses. "In the event of another Oblivion Gate barring our path, having a set of clothing meant for heat might be good. Er..." She frowned at her calcinator, and turned to Jean for help.

"Bag," said Jean again. She sighed, pulling a handful of ingredients from her bag to create something new.

"Agreed," said the blonde. "I was almost dying of heat in there."

"Get out of that armor, then, Anna Marie," Jean said.

"I am NOT about to strip in the middle of town," she snapped back, offended. They laughed.

Tavia offered them a tent and some blankets for the night, which Jean and Anna Marie set up, bickering for a while as the brunette went about distributing potion. When she ran out, she returned to the tent. Martin, curious, approached her.

"Excuse me."

"Hm?" She looked up. Martin stood in the doorway of the tent. "Yes?"

"I wanted to thank you for your help," he said as she got up. "Your skills have saved lives tonight."

"You do me too much honor," she said modestly. "A few people just needed patching up, was all."

"All the same. Your help is much appreciated. May I ask your name?"

"Amelie Rose Azarath," she said, inclining her head.

"A lovely name. I am Brother Martin," he said, smiling. "I don't expect you will be staying here?"

"My family and I have matters to attend to in Chorrol," Amelie said. "We will stay the night, and be off in the morning."

"I see. I wish you safe travels."

"Thank you, Brother Martin."

He left the family be, returning to his own tent for as good a night's sleep as could be expected.

Voices woke Martin from an anxious sleep mere hours later. The three strangers must have been leaving. He got up and sleepily looked outside the tent. Amelie, Jean, and Anna Marie were, indeed, heading off in the direction of Chorrol. Someday, perhaps he would meet them again.