"Well? I asked you a question, soldier."
Ketar's three companions looked between him and the Stormcloaks as the lead soldier bristled at his tone.
"I've been instructed—"
"Ordered," Ketar corrected.
"—to escort you to Windhelm."
"And why, pray tell, did Ulfric feel the need to violate the treaty we so painstakingly ironed out just to walk away empty-handed?"
The soldier hesitated a moment in confusion. "Empty-ha—"
Faster than anyone could react—even Serana—Ketar had the soldier in a painful headlock.
"Because I believe I made it abundantly clear what would happen should he cross any lines he's not supposed to. Which sending you here clearly does."
One of the other Stormcloaks, a woman, stepped forward. "Jarl Ulfric demands your presence to discuss a matter of grave importance. He sent us because he did not believe you would receive a letter as readily."
Ketar held up the trapped soldier's head in indication. "Does it look like I'm receiving you readily?"
The woman visibly gulped.
"Let me make one thing abundantly clear: no one demands my presence. They request. And then I decide whether or not I say yes." He shoved the soldier back toward his comrades. "Relay that message back to Ulfric. Tell him that I'll go to see him when I'm damn well good and ready."
The Stormcloaks exchanged worried looks, then nodded to him.
Ketar waited until they were just starting to leave when he called out to them again. "And tell him that I'll overlook this little…incursion." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "This time."
The whipped curs of Ulfric Stormcloak limped off to the north with their tails between their legs, much to Ketar's satisfaction and the mild stupefaction of his company. Florentius was the first to comment.
"Arkay says you remind him of the time Talos and Stendarr were arguing. Akatosh had to club them both over the head to get them to stop."
The other three turned to give him a blank look, at which point Florentius smiled, bowed, and silently took his leave.
"Baenius!" Ketar called, stopping him. "Here," he said, handing over the Dwemer schematics he'd retrieved from Ruunvald. "Give these to Sorine. She'll know what to do."
Florentius took them with a nod and kept walking. Agmaer sidled up next to Ketar when he was gone.
"So what now?" he asked.
Ketar frowned. "Ulfric sending soldiers into Imperial territory, with a truce in place? I don't like it…or being summoned, for that matter, but sacrifices have to be made, I suppose. We're going to Windhelm."
…
"So…"
Ketar arched an eyebrow at Serana. "What?"
"Magic. Weakness." She leaned closer to him on the saddle. "Spill."
He sighed and turned back forward. "Okay, first off—Agmaer. Since you don't use magic, you wouldn't really have to worry about this, but…magicka is the Aetherial substance found in all living creatures, whether or not they use it in spells. You could say it's kind of like our…life-force. That's why mages who expend too much too fast often appear weakened, sometimes quite severely. Most people who practice magic have a sort of instinctive…mental cap on their power, so they never release too much of their magicka. While I was studying at the College, I kind of found a way to…remove that block."
Serana stared at the back of his head. "So I was right. You are crazy."
"No," he replied firmly, "I just know my limits. And I know that if I hadn't figured out how to push them, my battles would've killed me long before magicka loss. That's why I keep small vials of the stuff on me at all times." He shrugged. "Just in case." He took a deep breath and sighed. "As for that spell I used on Minorne, that was learned from the same object that taught me how to lift my blocks: the Eye of Magnus."
"The what now?" Agmaer asked confusedly.
"I'll—spare you the details, but bottom line is, it was an extremely powerful magical artifact. A virtually infinite source of power and knowledge, until a greedy Thalmor agent tried to take that power for himself. The legendary Psijic Order had been in communication with me previously, warning me I would have to stop him…so I did. And in return, they took the Eye from the College, permanently removing it from the Thalmor's reach. Before that, though, I got the chance to study it up close, courtesy of the previous Arch-Mage, and what I gleaned from its sigils was a new adaptation of a familiar form of magic: plasma magic."
Serana's eyebrows hiked upward. "Plasma?"
Ketar nodded slowly. "An unstable form of ionized particles—in this case, highly concentrated electricity; the contents of a lightning bolt condensed into a much smaller volume, so that on release, the energy doesn't just randomly dissipate into the target, but concentrates all its destructive force on a single point. Burns through just about anything in one direct hit."
"Then why hadn't I seen you use it before?"
"You did, but it was cloaked in a flash of light."
Serana's eyes widened. "The spell you used to blind the Thalmor commander—the one that impacted his lightning strike."
"Exactly."
"That's…incredible. You've gotta teach me that one."
Ketar smirked. "Only if you teach me to use your kinetic bolt."
She smiled. "Deal."
…
Given Ruunvald's far northern location within the Rift, it wasn't long before they were approaching the gates of Windhelm and proceeding inside the snow-streaked stronghold.
"Let me guess," Ketar said suddenly, eyes on Serana. "Different from the last time you were here?"
She smiled gamely, getting a confused look from Agmaer. "Inside joke," she explained.
"Ah."
Ketar's mirthful mood vanished as soon as he approached the Palace of the Kings and saw six guards manning either door of the entrance. "Well…this is where we part ways for now. I'd stay in the Stone Quarter if I were you. Too many nosy sorts in Valunstrad and the Gray Quarter…let's just say that it's a little volatile there these days."
Serana nodded slowly. "We'll stay out of trouble. Won't we, Agmaer?"
Agmaer, distracted by some children walking by, abruptly straightened and faced her. "Of course, Lady Serana."
Ketar nodded to both of them, noting (absently—there was nothing more to it) that Agmaer was hovering over Serana protectively before he turned away. A sigh came from his lips as he approached the guards and showed them the sapphire-adorned silver ring on his right hand. They nodded as soon as they saw it and wordlessly stepped aside to allow him passage. Ketar's unease was far from satisfied upon entering the main hall of the palace. As luck would have it, the exact opposite was true, especially since save for the door guards and Ulfric Stormcloak himself, the room was empty of people. The long table that adorned the center of the room was conspicuously bare of any candles, plates, or anything at all.
And Ulfric never took his eyes off Ketar as he approached the throne. Point of fact, the man never blinked until Ketar was standing before him, stock-still. A potent silence fell over them both as they stared at each other.
"So," Ulfric said suddenly, "threatening my men."
Ketar shrugged nonchalantly. "They were trespassing. And making some…unfortunate insinuations about my ability to choose."
Ulfric bristled just enough to be noticeable. "Don't blame them for their zeal. Loyalty is something to be commended, wouldn't you say?"
Ketar smiled venomously. "Oh, trust me, I don't blame them."
The two men silently stared each other down for a while before Ketar sighed wearily.
"Why did you want me here?"
Ulfric frowned. "Because I have a question. One that can only be asked in person."
Ketar arched an eyebrow. "All right?"
The Jarl leaned forward in his seat. "Whose side are you on?"
He didn't even blink. "Skyrim's."
Ulfric's eyes narrowed. "That isn't an answer."
"Yes. It is."
The Nord's expression was slowly becoming more and more furious. "You mean to tell me you intend to remain neutral? You, the Dragonborn, tasked with protecting mankind from—"
"I'm tasked with destroying the World-Eater, Stormcloak, not protecting anyone. I choose to defend who I will because that is who I am, and whatever reasons I have are my own."
"I would still like to know them."
"Your little 'welcoming committee' out in the Rift didn't make me feel particularly chatty." Ketar's arms crossed. "And neither have you. Speaking of which, what the hell were you thinking? You surrendered the Rift to Tullius when we agreed to a cease-fire. Sending a detachment of Stormcloak soldiers into Imperial-controlled territory—are you trying to break the treaty?" He snarled and took a threatening step toward the throne. "Because so help me, Ulfric, if you are—"
"None of my usual couriers could find you, Dov. Don't read into it."
"Right," he replied skeptically.
"Believe what you will. I don't want my people to go to war any more than you do. But war has been inevitable for quite some time, so tell me…why does the World-Eater yet live?"
Ketar's blood went cold, his voice coming out weakly. "What?"
Ulfric's eyes narrowed. "You strong-armed us into that treaty so you could defeat Alduin. It's been three months. You're clearly recovered if you can go about gallivanting with the Dawnguard and manhandle my men, so what's the hold-up?"
He bit his lower lip. "It's complicated."
The Jarl's head shook slowly. "No. It isn't."
Ketar began to pale as Ulfric stood up.
"It's clear to me now." He began striding down from the throne.
The two men came practically nose-to-nose.
"You're just another one of Tullius' puppets. This treaty was a sham to give that fool time to prepare."
Ketar blinked at that, heat and blood rapidly returning to his face as a wave of derision and anger rose within him. "Oh really? Me, work for the man who ordered my demise with no reason except who I was stuck in a cart with? Where's the justice in that?" He turned for the exit.
"Justice?!"
Ketar came to a halt to glare over his shoulder.
"The Empire and their Thalmor overlords prostitute our nation, harass and persecute our people, and you would speak of justice?! Where is the justice in honest, hardworking Nords being dragged from their homes by foreign Elves for no reason except that they worship in a way the Thalmor don't like? Where is the justice in the trade sanctions and co-option of our facilities, our livelihood, to feed the Empire's greed and armies? Tullius fights for a weak, corrupt government that has well passed its golden age and is little more than a puppet state for the Aldmeri. I fight for the freedom of Skyrim, of all men!"
Ketar whirled on him, furious. "Where is the justice in your treatment of magic, of those who are willing and eager to help, but looked down on because you see their talents as 'weak'?" He snapped and pointed toward the doors. "Where is the justice in the Gray Quarter, where your Dunmer neighbors are endlessly harassed and persecuted despite being 'honest, hardworking' people?" He got up in Ulfric's face, screaming at this point. "Where is the justice in the Orc villages and strongholds that your soldiers looted and burned for their supply and entertainment?!" Ketar shook in unmistakable rage, voice lowering to a seething hiss. "I have seen what your freedom looks like, Stormcloak: Nords at the top, with everyone else under their heels." He snarled. "So explain to me, exactly what difference is there between you and Alduin?"
Ulfric blanched.
Ketar smirked nastily. "That's what I thought. Now, think to yourself: if I'm not willing to join Alduin—who is probably the closest thing I'll ever have to 'my own kind,' or even a brother, if you're feeling whimsical—what in the sixteen planes of Oblivion makes you think that I would ever join you?"
The room fell silent for a while before Ketar's leaving steps were heard. He stopped as soon as he saw the guards bar the doors, slowly turning back to face a purple-faced Ulfric, whose hand was tightening around the hilt of his steel sword.
Ketar's eyes flickered to the weapon before coming back up to meet his eyes. "Don't, Ulfric. You don't want to do this."
Ulfric scowled. "I don't want to go to war either."
Shing!
"But sacrifices must be made." He twirled his sword in menacing figure-eights. "And if you are not with me," he pointed his blade at Ketar, "you are against me."
Ketar snarled and slowly drew his own sword. "Well, you're right about one of those."
With a shared yell of fury, they charged each other, their blades meeting high, then low as one strike and block flowed into the next. Their feet and movements practically mirrored each other, their entire focus solely on the battle as they spiraled around each other in a seamless pattern of attacks and deflects. Shoulder, hip, midsection—one blow faded into the next until Ulfric lunged forward suddenly, shunting Ketar's blade aside, and drove the hilt of his sword into the other man's chest hard. A sudden, stabbing pain lit up his sternum, but he pushed through it with a growl, grappling with his sword arm and forcing it several degrees in the wrong direction before tossing him away.
Ulfric whirled and swung at him with a vengeance, nearly scoring a glancing hit on his left cheek and finding himself on the wrong end of a shin-kick to the gut. The Jarl stumbled backwards and made two quick swipes at Ketar, high-low, before spinning around the Dragonborn's countering thrust and slashing at his back. A quick pivot of his ebony sword was enough to stop it in its tracks, but the force of the impact drove the back edge of his blade into Ketar's right shoulder blade. Though it wasn't full-force, he could feel the leather of his Guildmaster suit give partway under the razor-sharp edge even as he lunged away. A dive-roll temporarily removed him from Ulfric's reach, allowing him to realign himself, blade held at his side and pointed directly at Ulfric.
No words were exchanged as they sized each other up. The battle would speak for itself.
A lunge on both their parts brought their swords together once more, Ketar using his extended reach to make several attempts at shallow cuts along his arms and legs, trying to slow him down. Ulfric just parried everything, eventually locking his sword with Ketar's and using a sudden forward push to knock the Dragonborn off-balance. Or so he thought. While Ketar was "stumbling" backward, Ulfric made a wide sweep for his legs, but he leapt over the strike in a falling kick that split the Jarl's left eyebrow open and temporarily blinded that eye with the blood that began running down his face.
Ketar laid on the hurt then, hammering Ulfric's defenses over and over until he was almost recklessly pursuing him. And then something happened that he had never expected. Ulfric Spoke.
"Fus-Ro-Dah!"
The sudden and unexpected burst of pure force catapulted him back into the main hall's long table, sword nearly falling from suddenly limp fingers as he gasped to catch his breath. Ulfric advanced rapidly, steel blade coming down like a guillotine aiming to split his head down the middle. Ketar pivoted to the side at the last second, the steel driving itself deep down into the wood as he kicked Ulfric away from the weapon. His own sword returned to its sheath a moment later, both hands coming up to guard his face against two rapid jabs. He slapped the second one down and countered with a snap-punch of his own, one that hit the bridge of Ulfric's nose hard enough to stun him briefly and opened him up to a right hook that really worked his jaw around.
A lunging side-kick drove Ulfric further back, followed by a leaping cross that he dodged and countered with a palm strike to the chest. The midair impact knocked the wind of out Ketar and laid him out back-first on the ground. Ulfric's fingers tried to wrap around his throat, his superior weight keeping him still as Ketar was steadily throttled. Ketar uselessly pulled at his thumbs and pressure points, the other man's rage seeming to dull the pain as he snarled down at him. Finally, with a titanic force of effort, Ketar managed to get a solid breath and channel his Voice.
"Fus-Ro-Dah!"
Ulfric went flying almost twenty feet straight into the air, spinning uncontrollably and half-panicking on the way down.
"Enough!" Ketar roared, feeling power build in his chest as he used Ulfric's midair position to line up an attack.
Coiling up in a split-second, he leapt in a tightly-curled twist-flip, sticking his right leg out the moment Ulfric came within range, effectively launching him toward the throne. Upon landing on his feet, a deep breath was taken in just a moment before he unleashed his Voice in a steady, booming chant.
"Zu fen ni kos uth naal aan munax vith!"
The Dragonborn advanced on an overtly terrified Ulfric with every step, the sheer power of his Voice shaking the very foundations of the Palace of Kings and knocking anyone still standing clear off their feet.
"Unt daar fen, zu fen kos hin al!"
Ulfric was visibly shaking by the time he was finished, and that didn't change when the echo of his statement faded from hearing. Ketar was still scowling at him furiously, but his anger was somewhat satisfied by the Jarl's current state, because when he spoke next, it was in a calm, even (if still threatening) tone.
"My word is final. I will not be a puppet. Not yours. Not the Empire's." Ketar's head shook slightly. "Not anyone's. I'm on the side of Skyrim and its people." He waved dismissively. "The rest of the political bullshit I gladly leave to men like you." He took a single step toward Ulfric, satisfied by the other man's flinch. "Don't—ever—summon me like this again. If you do, I promise…" he turned away and stalked toward the door, "you will lose more than your pride."
…
Serana and Agmaer—along with everyone else in Windhelm—had stopped whatever they were doing when the Palace of Kings had begun to shake with the force of an echoing, otherworldly Voice. She immediately knew it was him, but was shocked anyway. Even when he'd been engaged in battle, she'd never heard him Speak so loudly—or angrily. By the looks of him when he emerged from the building, he actually had been in a fight, and she wanted to ask about it, but one glance at his face was enough to dissuade both of them from saying a word.
"Let's go," he snarled instead.
The guards, and indeed the entire populace, were staring at his furious countenance with nothing less than abject terror.
For the first time since they'd met…Serana felt the same.
…
It was half an hour before anyone spoke, and when they did, it wasn't any of the three.
"Listener!"
Ketar's head snapped up toward the source of the voice, eyes peering out from under his hood to see a familiar Redguard approaching on horseback. "Nazir," he intoned exhaustedly. "Good to see you."
Nazir tipped his head in greeting. "Heard you made quite the impression in Windhelm. A…botched discussion with the Jarl."
Ketar's left eyebrow arched as his lips twisted in a sardonic smirk. "You hear about that already?"
He shrugged and dismounted his horse. "I'm afraid word travels fast when it comes to you." His eyes alit on Serana's hooded form, barely giving Agmaer a glance before settling back onto the vampire. "Interesting new friends you have."
"I'll have to introduce you sometime," Ketar replied irritably, "but for now would you care to cut to the chase? I'm on a bit of a schedule."
Nazir blinked and frowned, then shook his head and motioned toward the side of the road. "In private."
Ketar sighed hard and dismounted, then sidled off to join his lieutenant. "What is it?"
"First off, Babette wanted me to ask what you know about the Dawnguard, but—" he glanced at Agmaer, "—by the looks of things, I'd say you have that under control."
"For now," he explained, "they only seem interested in one particular sect of vampires. And trust me, if Babette knew what they had planned, she'd want to wipe them out too."
Nazir arched an eyebrow. "I'll take your word on that. The second thing is, well…morale at the Sanctuary is at an all-time low. The new recruits are getting …antsy, eager to see their Listener. And I believe it's high time you spoke to Mother once more."
Ketar sighed and passed a hand over his face. "Unfortunately, I think you might be right. On all counts. I won't talk to any of the recruits. Shouldn't need to. After all, I'm the Listener, not the Speaker. But the Night Mother will be…eh, she probably won't be happy I've stayed away for so long."
"On that we can agree, but I'm sure she'll be quick enough to forgive you. After all, it's been centuries since she's had someone to listen to her. I doubt she'll cast you aside so easily."
"No doubt," Ketar admitted reluctantly. He gave another sigh and looked back toward Serana and Agmaer. "Nazir, I need you to do me a favor."
"Anything."
Ketar took a small parchment from his belt and began scribbling on it. "I want you to escort those two to the College of Winterhold. It's maybe half a day's ride from Dawnstar, and they'll be safe there, long as you present this writ to the gatekeeper." He handed the parchment to Nazir, a small smile quirking his lips. "Faralda is a…bit of a stickler for procedure."
Nazir smiled and nodded, accepting the paper. "It will be done."
"Thank you," he said with a hand on the other man's shoulder. Ketar turned back toward the rest of his party and moved for Stormbreaker. "Serana, Agmaer—I'm afraid something's come up that I can't avoid. I'll have to leave you for a bit, but not to worry." He motioned to the Redguard. "This is my friend Nazir—he'll take care of you while I'm gone."
Serana arched an inquisitive eyebrow that he barely caught in the shadows of her hood. "And we can't come with you why?"
Ketar frowned. "There are certain things you two just aren't meant to see."
She blinked in confusion and curiosity, but nodded. "I assume you'll want your horse back."
"Yes. Sorry."
Serana shrugged and dismounted. "It's nothing, really. I'm sure this Nazir will be delighted to give me a ride."
Ketar tensed up as he looked toward the midnight-black fur and glowing red eyes of the assassin's mount. "Uhhh…that might be a small—"
"I'll take her," Agmaer interrupted. He went red as soon as the others fixed their eyes on him. "I-If that's all right with Lady Serana."
Serana fixed Ketar with a brief but infuriatingly wry smirk before sauntering toward Agmaer's horse. "That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Agmaer."
The Nord cleared his throat and offered his hand to help her into the saddle. "Of course, milady."
Ketar stared at them for a few more seconds, that irritating feeling from Jorrvaskr flaring up almost violently. With everything else that had gone wrong today, he wasn't surprised it had returned, but still—it was annoying. "I'll…see you in a day or two." He turned to Nazir, who mounted up on Shadowmere, his scimitar glinting in the pale overcast sun. "Take care of them."
Nazir's eyes flickered to Serana and Agmaer before turning to Ketar. And, of all things, he adopted that irritatingly knowing "Vilkas look." "Of course, Listener."
Ketar gave him a brief narrow-eyed glare before mounting up on Stormbreaker and taking off to the northwest.
…
The awed whispers and stares that greeted him as soon as he entered the Sanctuary were not unexpected, but annoying all the same. With the exception of maybe Babette, who was several hundred years older than him, they all looked at him like he was some kind of god. Or, demigod, at least—which he supposed there could be a case for, since he was technically the half-spawn of Akatosh…
Shaking his head slightly to clear away his thoughts, he silently strode past all of them and toward the chamber where Cicero kept up his constant vigil over the Night Mother's coffin.
"Keeper," he greeted respectfully, bracing himself for the jester's exuberant response.
"Oh Listener, great and powerful Listener—how wonderful of you to grace us with your presence once again." Cicero frowned as he followed at his heels. "I heard about your…unfortunate brush with death on that dreadful mountain peak. Simply awful business."
"Yes," he agreed absently, "it was."
"If there is anything I can do to—"
"You can," Ketar interrupted sharply, turning on the jester. "You can keep doing your job and actively try to avoid harassing or irritating any of your brothers or sisters."
Cicero blinked up at him owlishly. "…that's all?"
He shrugged. "That's it. Very simple, very uncomplicated. And you should know—you've been doing it all your life." He put a hand on the Keeper's shoulder. "Which means you're very good at it. That's why I chose you for the job, remember?"
"O-Of course."
He patted Cicero's shoulder. "Then grab some food and relax. I'll take care of Mother for now."
"Of course, Listener," he intoned with a deep bow.
Ketar waited until Cicero was gone before pulling back his hood and turning toward the black, grotesquely carved sarcophagus. His palm pressed against a hand sigil on its front, the magical surface shifting to fit his fingers as it clicked and released its lock. The sarcophagus creaked open a moment later, and he was treated to a glimpse of a rotted, almost skeletal corpse for just a moment before darkness overcame all of his vision. The black void swirled and roiled around him, eventually narrowing to the sight of a deceptively young Dunmer woman clad in robes of pure darkness.
Her blood-red lips turned upward in an all-knowing smile. "You've been busy in your absence, Listener."
Ketar chewed his lower lip in mild irritation. "Yes, Mother…circumstances have arisen that mandated such an extended period of leave."
"Oh, please, save me the excuses, boy." She didn't sound angry. More like a mother laughing at the antics of a particularly willful child…which he supposed he was. "We both know you were never particularly favorable toward this arrangement."
A small shock of relief surged through him at her words, which gave him just enough hutzpah to cross his arms with a great deal of snark. "Well, I've never exactly been a fan of cults. Especially not ones that require me to talk to the corpse of a thousand-year-old dead woman."
Far from affronted, the Night Mother chuckled gamely. "Ironic, considering your current choice of company."
Stiffening, Ketar rolled his eyes and sighed. "What is it with Serana and the people in my life? You know what? Don't answer that. You called me here for a reason, I expect. Another target?"
She certainly looked like she wanted to press him on Serana, but answered his second question instead. "Indeed. One who I believe you'll approve of destroying. Calunor Esaran, the Thalmor official responsible for setting that hunting party on your trail."
Ketar perked up immediately. "Why did he do that? Why are they taking such a sudden new interest in me?"
"I suppose you'll have to ask him yourself, Listener."
He frowned and chewed it over for a while. "No."
She arched an eyebrow. "No?"
His head shook. "No," he reaffirmed. "I have to stay focused on the Dawnguard. If Harkon succeeds in what he has planned…I don't even want to think about the consequences. I'll put Babette on it. She's one of my most experienced assassins. It should be no trouble at all for her."
To his surprise, Mother smiled approvingly. "It is a wise leader who knows when to delegate to others when your focus should be elsewhere. And who to trust. But be careful that doing so does not cause you to overlook something important because you are too focused on something else."
Ketar's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She smiled enigmatically. "You'll see."
Before he could say another word of question or protest, the darkness flared up, then receded entirely, and when his vision cleared, he was back in the coffin chamber with the sarcophagus now sealed. A deep sigh came from his lips as he turned for the exit and left the chamber without another word.
…
"This is his tower?"
"I know! It's amazing, isn't it?"
Serana nodded her agreement to the shorter Dunmer girl currently escorting her and Agmaer around. Nazir had taken his leave of them as soon as they were within the gates of the College, stating that his "Listener" had instructed him to escort them there, not babysit. The rest of the College's denizens were…agreeable enough, once they heard the pair were friends of Ketar. But this Brelyna girl…she was a real treat. Speaking of which…
"So," Agmaer said, "if you don't mind me asking, how did you and the uh, Arch-Mage meet?"
Brelyna chuckled. "Not at all. To be honest, it was…a bit embarrassing. All my life, the people around me had constantly pestered me with questions about my Elven heritage and connection to magic, so when he came up to me with this inquisitive look on his face…"
Serana grinned. "I know the one."
She smiled back. "I sort of assumed he'd be the same way. So, I went on a bit of a rant that…well, I said it was embarrassing. He just laughed it off, shook my hand, and introduced himself. We've been friends ever since. Even lab partners. Although—" her cheeks went dark purple, "—that particular episode is…not one I ever plan to speak of again."
Agmaer grinned. "Another embarrassing tale?"
Brelyna groaned and laid her head in her hands. "Yes. Too embarrassing for words. Even he never wanted to bring it up again…though that might've been more for my sake than his. Because…well…he's kind like that."
"Yes," Serana agreed absently, "he is."
Her attention was fixated on a crystalline, ellipsoid container hovering twenty feet above the center of the Arch-Mage's chambers.
With a staff suspended inside.
The staff possessed an ornate, patterned shaft and two aquamarine-colored gemstones of different sizes fixed at either end. It turned slowly, endlessly within its container as she stared at it.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Serana hummed her agreement with Brelyna.
"That's the Staff of Magnus, one of the most powerful magical weapons in all of Tamriel."
She looked back at the Dunmer. "And he just…leaves it out?"
Brelyna chuckled. "Dear," she pointed at the container, "that is not out. That is what's known as a 'perfect gem.' A—"
"A magical barrier tied to the existence and structure of a smaller, enchanted gemstone," Serana interrupted, turning back to the staff. "I've never seen one so condensed."
"Ketar's a bit of a wizard—no pun intended—when it comes to Alteration and Destruction magic. He's certainly…proficient in the other schools of magic, but those two are most certainly his specialty. Well, that and enchanting, but even then he focuses more on Destruction and Alteration enchantments."
"I see."
The room fell silent as the two guests busied themselves with looking over his collection of rare magical artifacts. One in particular caught Serana's eye, a black, star-shaped object under an enchanted lock.
She tapped the glass to get Brelyna's attention. "What's this one?"
The Dunmer girl strode over and frowned. "Hmm…not sure. It looks a bit like Azura's Star, but…"
"Darker," Serana finished.
"Hm," she replied with a nod.
Serana's head started spinning as the full implications of what she was seeing unfolded in her mind. The Staff of Magnus, plasma magic, a supreme command of the Voice, and now at least two Daedric artifacts she knew of (three, if she counted Nocturnal's Embrace). Suffice to say, the dearth of knowledge she had with regard to Ketar was becoming more and more unsettling by the minute.
…
"Babette—thought I might find you here."
The little vampire "girl" opened her jaws and straightened up from the recruit she'd just been feeding on, wiping her forearm across her mouth and giving Ketar a slightly bloody grin. "Ketty!" She barreled into his chest with a bone-crushing hug. "So good to see you again."
Ketar burned completely red, as he always did whenever she did this. "Uh…yeah. Sure. You too."
She pulled away to grin up at him. "Don't be such a stiff," she said with a flick of his forehead.
Ketar winced when her action actually produced a sharp sting. "I wouldn't have to be if you would just act your age for once. One of us has to be the responsible one."
"Eh," she waved dismissively, "growing up is so dull. Who wouldn't love to be a kid forever? Hm? All these adult problems you constantly have to deal with…they're taking a toll on you." She flashed her fangs. "I can tell. Just took one whiff of your blood, and I could practically smell the stress."
Ketar gave her a deadpan glare. "I'm fine. Seriously. Now can we get down to business? I have a job for you."
Babette's glowing eyes immediately brightened up. "Oh? Do tell."
"There's a Thalmor leech based somewhere in the Reach, goes by the name Calunor Esaran. I need him dead, but first I need you to find out why he sent a team of soldiers to blow up my house."
Her eyes went wide in alarm. "Oh, Ketty—were you hurt?"
He sighed. "Not too badly. I had help. But I need to know why they're after me. All this time and nothing. So why now?"
She nodded. "I understand completely. Don't you worry, Ketty. I'll take care of everything."
He gave her a pained smile. "I'm certain you will. But you better hurry. This job is a bit…time-sensitive."
"Always is. Now if you'll excuse me, I still need some alone time with my latest meal." She flashed him a wink as she dragged off the half-asleep recruit toward a back room.
Ketar just stared at her exit with a mildly exasperated expression, the same kind of sigh that he released a moment later. He spotted a recruit cautiously approaching him with a downright sycophantic expression on his face and stopped him with a glare. "Don't even think about it."
And with that, he left the Sanctuary.
…
By midnight of the first day, Serana was starting to get anxious. Especially since unlike Agmaer, she didn't currently have the luxury of sleeping, so was left with nothing to do but read and think. After a small…demonstration of her abilities, Urag Gro-Shub, the Orc curator of the College's Arcaneum, agreed to lend her use of the library so long as she remained supervised. She agreed, of course, and set about researching anything pertaining to Daedric artifacts, particularly with regard to soul gems and necromancy. Seeing as how the latter was her area of expertise, she already knew a great deal of what the authors were talking about. One book, however, held and kept her attention after she remembered what Brelyna said about Azura's Star.
Apparently, if a certain ritual were performed on a fractured Azura's Star, it would create something else entirely: a Black Star, a powerful, unbreakable necromantic soul gem capable of housing the souls of both creatures and mortals. How on Nirn Ketar got his hands on one was anyone's guess, but the fact that it was currently not with him and instead under lock and key—along with many other practically useful items—said that he was probably uncomfortable with using it. Serana frowned.
Would that also mean he's uncomfortable with my skills as a necromancer? I mean…he never showed any concern before…
Suddenly, her mind snapped back to something he'd said.
"Just because I don't want to change what I am doesn't mean I look down on those who are different."
Still, her frown persisted.
The world just doesn't work that way. He has to understand that, right?
"Hey!"
Serana's head snapped to the irritable Orc speaker.
"You tear one of those pages, I will send you to personally find me a new copy."
She blinked and looked down to see that her grip around one of said pages was tightening, quickly releasing it and muttering an apology as she closed and returned it. The way back up to the Arch-Mage's tower was filled with more endless thoughts.
He's young, but not innocent. He couldn't have kept his innocence with eyes like that. And he may have grown up in a monastery, far-removed from the rest of Tamriel, but he's been in the world more than long enough for that childish naïveté to have vanished.
She arrived in Ketar's chambers, frowning at Agmaer snoring on a nearby couch.
So…how does he stay so impartial? Is it just an act, to make people feel better around him? So they'll trust him more?
Absently, a hand came up to her hair and started twirling one lock of it around her index finger.
Or is that something he just chooses to hold onto? Lydia did say he was little more than a kid, forced to grow up too fast.
She looked toward the Staff of Magnus, at the incredible security case he'd created for it, and felt a smile tug at her lips.
Maybe…maybe that's not such a bad thing. When you're a kid, you don't see all those differences and distinctions. Prejudice isn't something you're born with. It's something you learn. And somehow, he didn't.
Her smile widened at the sight of Agmaer slightly drooling on what were no doubt expensive cushions.
So maybe, right now…a kid is exactly what Skyrim needs.
…
Serana, of course, was the first to welcome Ketar back to their party the following morning. Agmaer awoke with a start and half-delirious rant about cheese. That got Ketar to stop for a second before forcibly dumping him on the floor of the tower. That woke him up right quick, much to his grumbling displeasure. Ketar just smirked and insisted that they had to get a move on back to Fort Dawnguard, as he'd apparently received a message from Isran about an impending operation. They did so after a brief breakfast, though Agmaer was sleepily grumbling about it the whole way to the stables. Speaking of sleep…
One quick glance was enough to tell Serana that he hadn't slept well lately either. By the darkness of the circles under his eyes, probably not for a couple of days. Not since the Thalmor attacked Windstad…maybe even before. If it was the former, she certainly understood the why. Being assaulted in your own home, even if he had seen it coming…not something that tends to make one sleep well at night. Point of fact, it was the kind of thing she had seen make her father downright paranoid. But, as he would use to say, "It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you." In Ketar's defense, the deprivation didn't really seem to affect his combat or mental abilities, but still. If even half the stories about him were true, he could probably go a week without sleeping and hardly slow a step.
That didn't mean it was pleasant.
Point of fact, apart from a few scattered smirks and chuckles, his face had pretty much been twisted into a permanent frown. Though whether that was because of his exhaustion or whatever he went away for was anyone's guess. Whatever the case, there wasn't a lot of chatter between Winterhold and Dayspring Canyon. Apparently, the visit to the College yesterday had been as thought-provoking for Agmaer as it had been for Serana. The vampire had to wonder what was going through the young Nord's head. On approach to the fort, Serana found she couldn't keep her questions to herself any longer.
"Septim for your thoughts?"
Agmaer and Ketar both turned to her, but the latter turned back forward when he realized who she was talking to.
"Um," Agmaer stammered, "well, I suppose I'm just thinking about home. What'll happen to them…if we fail against Harkon."
Serana opened her mouth, but Ketar beat her to it.
"Thinking about worst-case scenarios never helps. Trust me. Just…" he frowned, "know what you have to lose and let it drive you to win."
Agmaer's jaw tightened as he gave the other man a nod. Serana gave him a reassuring smile that he returned with a small blush. And with that, they ran out of time for small-talk, as Ketar dismounted and began hitching Stormbreaker to a nearby palisade. Serana and Agmaer joined him going up the steps and proceeded inside to find a veritable hive's-worth of activity going on. So much so that they actually stopped and began staring. While there had been barely half a dozen Dawnguard in this place when they'd left, there were now numerous armored bodies bustling about, sharpening weapons, practicing with crossbows, sparring practice—the deserted dwelling had turned into a living organism almost overnight.
Ketar spotted Gunmar in the middle of this maelstrom and quickly flagged him down. "What the hell happened?"
The big Nord grinned. "Florentius happened. That old kook might be a little off in the head, but he certainly knows how to make friends better than any of us. Took a little convincing, but he reached out to his many contacts across Skyrim—city guards, Imperial soldiers, and the like. As luck would have it, all of them answered the call of the Dawnguard."
"About time we started evening the odds," Agmaer cheered.
Ketar nodded in agreement. "Now what about this 'operation' Isran mentioned?"
Gunmar nodded toward the back. "You'd best go see him about it."
Ketar frowned and nodded, heading for Isran and catching him in the middle of ordering about some new faces. "Isran," he called. "What's going on?"
The Redguard looked back at him and nodded toward a nearby room. "We got word about a vampire cell out west in the Reach. I'm putting a team together to bring it down, and I want you on it."
"What do we know?"
"They're dug in deep, apparently. A large village built into the mountains at a critical crossroads; it's practically wrapped around their finger. Gunmar thinks it's a major source of their funding, seeing as how so many trade routes pass through there. We eliminate that cell, and there's a good chance we could start to restrict their operations all across Skyrim."
Ketar nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Also, with this new influx of manpower, is there any chance you could get some of them to look for that last Elder Scroll? For some incomprehensible reason, my people haven't been having much luck."
Isran immediately frowned. "Yeah…about that. There's been a bit of a snag."
The Dragonborn's blood went cold.
"What do you mean?" Serana asked worriedly.
Isran's lips pursed tighter as he nodded toward a corridor. "Follow me."
A few moments passed before they were back in the room where they'd waited for Dexion to wake up, once again looking down at his horizontal body facing away from them.
Ketar looked to Dexion, then to the leader of the Dawnguard at his side. "Isran…" His eyes widened in horror when the Priest slowly turned toward them, revealing the blindfold over his eyes. "What happened?"
Dexion sighed mournfully. "It's my fault. In my haste to read the first Scroll, I neglected the careful preparation required. I thought I'd be able to allay the after effects, but I was wrong. Now I'm paying for it."
"And…the covering?" Agmaer asked in concern. "Does that mean you're—"
"Blind? Yes, I'm afraid so."
Serana exchanged a brief look with Ketar before he turned back to the Priest. "I know a bit about Restoration magic. I'm no expert, but I could—"
Dexion stopped him with a hand. "No. It'll have to run its course, and there's always the chance I may never recover. I'm afraid this is merely a side effect of the Scrolls; it happens even to the most seasoned of masters eventually."
"Then…we're finished," Serana said in a near-whisper.
The wizened man's head turned in her direction. "Not necessarily. The question is, how much are you willing to risk to find Auriel's Bow?"
Ketar and Serana exchanged another look before he answered. "What do I need to do?"
"I'm afraid I can't guarantee you'll be safe from the side effects. Becoming blind could be the least of your worries."
The Dragonborn snorted a laugh. "It wouldn't be the first time I've tempted fate, and not even in this particular regard."
Dexion's head tilted slightly. "Oh?"
Ketar's lips pursed. "Remember the second Scroll I brought? I read it without any preparation, at the Throat of the World." He frowned harder. "It was…enlightening."
Dexion sat up perfectly straight. "And there were no adverse aftereffects?"
"Apart from some pretty significant disorientation and a brief period of hazy vision, no."
"An untrained layman glimpsing the depths of an Elder Scroll and walking away unscathed. Simply fascinating!"
Ketar arched an eyebrow and snorted. "I didn't walk away unscathed, but that wasn't the Scroll's fault." Without explaining, he continued. "I think it might have something to do with my dragon blood. Considering Akatosh's connection to time, it might allow me interact with the Scrolls on a much less forced level."
"That is a plausible explanation," the Priest admitted, "but still, precautions should be made. Especially so since you'll be dealing with the power of not just one, but three Elder Scrolls."
"Agreed," Ketar said with a nod. "So, how do I do this?"
"Scattered across Tamriel are secluded locations known only as Ancestor Glades. There's one in Skyrim, in the Pine Forest. Performing the Ritual of the Ancestor Moth within the glade should provide the answers you seek. It involves carefully removing the bark from the Canticle Tree which will in turn attract Ancestor Moths to you. Once enough of the moths are following, they'll provide you with the second sight needed to decipher the scrolls."
"Carefully removing bark? How do you propose I do that, with a nail-file?"
Dexion chuckled. "In keeping with tradition, you must use a specific tool in the Ancestor Glade, an implement known as a Draw Knife. Every Moth Priest is taught this ritual, but few ever get the chance to perform it...you should consider yourself fortunate if it works for you." He smirked. "Or, blessed by the gods, as the case may be."
Ketar gave him a wan smile. "There are times when I think the gods and I have vastly different priorities." His face became serious again. "Is there any particular order I should read them in?"
"Hm. From what I saw in the vision, the Elder Scroll which foreshadows the defiance of the gods with the blood of mortals is the key to the prophecy. But all three are necessary, and from your tone, I surmise you haven't yet found the third."
"We haven't," Serana confirmed, giving Ketar a sideways smirk. "Apparently, Mr. Dov's criminal network isn't as extensive as he let on."
Ketar nearly choked on air. "Who said they were criminals?"
Serana just shot him a knowing look while Dexion chuckled and Isran and Agmaer just stared at them like they were crazy.
"At any rate," Isran interrupted, "I'll see if any of my old contacts know of another Elder Scroll popping up somewhere. In the meantime, we should deal with this vampire mess in the Reach."
Ketar frowned and nodded. "Agreed."
"Do we know the name of whoever's running this particular cell?" Serana asked a little tensely.
Isran shot her a look. "No. Does it matter?"
She frowned and shifted in place. "No…I just suddenly have a really bad feeling."
The Redguard snorted. "The Dawnguard doesn't operate based on your 'feelings,' girl." He turned to Ketar. "You'll be there?"
Ketar nodded firmly. "We have your back. Right Agmaer?"
"Right," the Nord answered without hesitation.
Isran gave them all one last curt nod, eyes lingering suspiciously on Serana as they always did, before exiting the room, the others starting to follow him out.
"Lord Dov, hold a moment," said Dexion.
He stopped in his tracks and exchanged a look with Serana and Agmaer before nodding them onward. Ketar made his way to Dexion's bedside and knelt in front of him, the old man's head facing him directly despite having no vision. The Priest reached out and gripped him by the sides of his neck and jaw, lips pursed in focus, while Ketar just stared at him in confusion. Dexion's frown deepened for a moment before he hummed and released him.
"Interesting," he said softly.
Ketar blinked twice. "What is?"
"Though robbed of my sight, the cause allows me to see the echo of the Scroll you read. And the events that transpired immediately afterward."
Ketar felt a chill run through his blood, voice going terse. "So?"
Dexion's blindfold stared him directly in the eyes. "The pain you carry with you…is clear enough for a blind man to see. As is your doubt."
He sighed and stood up abruptly. "Dexion, please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm really not in the mood for any mystical bullshit, so if you don't mind—"
"You lied to me earlier."
"…excuse me?"
Dexion's lips pursed. "You don't doubt the gods, and in particular not your father. You doubt yourself, and the faith they've placed in you. You feel…inadequate."
Ketar stared at him, his lips falling open with rising unease and no small amount of anxiety.
"It's a concern that only you seem to bear. Your companions certainly don't. Even my abrasive Redguard host believes in your abilities. Until you do as well, that doubt and uncertainty will continually hold you back from your true potential."
The Last Dragonborn looked down at him, suddenly feeling for all the world like a child being lectured, then frowned and turned for the exit, his reply dark and barely loud enough to hear.
"I'll keep that in mind."
AN: I am so, so, SO sorry for how long this chapter took. It's been a hell of a crazy month for me with finals and job searches and interviews and moving and—suffice to say, I've been a little preoccupied. I actually finished most of this chapter weeks ago, but for all my resolve to finish, I couldn't seem to put one finger in front of the other and power through it. PLEASE forgive me for taking so long. I've been distracted by a lot of things, including reviving ideas for an old dream story I came up with back in high school (TRON—it's gonna be awesome) and having some of my fans and family beta read the first few chapters I pounded out.
Honestly, I'm just going with wherever my inspiration leads me. It's been so long since I've had to flow to really write that I don't want to limit my reach to just one story if my muse pulls me in another direction. I don't want to hit another dry spell, is what I mean to say, so I'm doing my best to keep my writing chops sharp and momentum going so I don't feel like I'm wasting my days again. Seriously, if I don't write something by the end of the day, I often feel like I haven't accomplished a thing.
Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter and some of the other gaps that are starting to be filled in. More to come soon, I hope. I'll try to get started on the next chapter ASAP.
In the meantime, read and review and recommend this story to your friends!
Oya, vode.
- CDrake
Musical Inspirations:
The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt - The Hunt is Coming: Ketar vs. Ulfric/shaking the Palace of the Kings
Dragon translations:
"Zu fen ni kos uth naal aan munax vith!" - I will not be commanded by a cruel snake!
"Unt daar fen, zu fen kos hin al!"- Try this again, and I will become your destroyer!
