Despite first appearances and the fact that we no longer had to contend with hundreds of metres of trap strewn halls, retrieving the Shield of the Crusader was neither quick nor easy. The rest of the fort may have been an elaborate ruse but the original builders ensured nothing was left to chance. For the rest of the afternoon and a good portion of the following day we laboured within the keep, levering and hauling the fifty kilogram stones from the floor where Thedret had marked, relying upon Falid and Mazoga's impressive strength in order to shift them away. By the time we had finished moving the stones we had managed to excavate a chest deep hole before we found what we were looking for.
The size of the steel box and the complete and utter lack of ornamentation did little to allay our growing fears that Thedret and the Knights Mentor were mistaken but after cracking the seals and prying it open we all fell silent. Locked away for two centuries and buried the entire time, the Shield like the other Relics I had seen was immaculate and impossible not to identify. Lovingly placed into the velvet cushioning within the box it was as pure and unmarked as the day it was created but to most of us it was much, much smaller than we expected.
Little more than a buckler designed to be strapped to the arm and the wrist rather than held, it was a far cry from the enormous Legion tower shields that I was used to. Fashioned into the shape of a diamond with the points cut away, it was less than my forearm wide, but twice a long in height. While there was no doubting the overwhelming power of the relic I realised that it was not designed for the same style of fighting as the other shields I was used to, and was much more suited for combat on the back of a horse than on foot. Falid commented that it appeared suitable for fighting with a weapon using both hands, and I for one agreed with him, especially how his knowledge of fighting with larger weapons surpassed the rest of us.
After staying our third night in the area we departed the fort in a group exponentially larger than the one we had arrived in. The remaining Black Bows were loaded into a collection of barges that had arrived from some of the other nearby Argonian villages as the word of our success spread. For the most part they didn't show any signs of resistance, especially after the two that were killed in their attempts to attack us and the three that tried their luck fleeing into the marshes. Their fate in particular was left as a mystery but the blood curdling screams and the roaring that echoed out of the night after one escaped had thoroughly discouraged the rest.
The local villages had also sent handfuls of their population to assist, and while many were no healthier than the first we had encountered their assistance in herding our prisoners was invaluable. They also greatly assisted our journey back to the larger settlements which ensured that after a short two-day journey we found ourselves back within comparative civilisation and handing our charges over to the authorities.
Much to Viconia's amusement, the bounties we received for the remaining bandits was surprisingly considerable once the authorities were convinced of their identities and any attempts to cheat or swindle us were dealt with. When we left the township and our collection of grateful guides from the liberated villages we did so with a considerable amount of gold and silver coins as well as our recovered artefact.
The return journey was very much the same as our journey to Blackmarsh although there was much more resting than before. All of our injuries had ensured that we were able to do little more than rest, recuperate and see to our arms and armour that had taken just as much of a battering as we had. Much would have to wait for the attentions of a smithy or armourer to receive more than patching and cleaning but by the time we laid eyes on Leyawiin we were positively bouncing and riding on the waves of our success.
Word of our success had proven to be much faster than the river carrack we returned on, once again proving that the messenger posts continued their service in spreading news at a breakneck pace. When we finally moored onto Leyawiin's docks an enormous crowd was rapidly building, kept at bay only by the cohort's worth of guards, the ship's sailors and a handful of Knights of the White Stallion sent to escort us to the Stallion Lodge. As far as I could tell there were easily several hundred citizens and faithful straining for a glimpse of one of Pelinal's Relics or the individuals responsible for its successful retrieval. As sailors swore and guards bellowed and pushed the crowd back we managed to disembark and make our way through the docks and out of the city towards the lodge.
Our reception was also very similar, as every member or individual affiliated with the Order in any way was there in person to welcome us back and I was mildly amused to see that there was no fanfare or the like awaiting us. Just a sea of grinning faces until someone started clapping and left the entire lodge shaking from the overwhelming applause and cheering from the hundreds of Knights, Squires, Men-at-Arms, servants and craftsmen that made up the Order's ranks.
Sir Ramauld was standing at the end of the great hall, a smile splitting his enormous beard and being flanked by his two remaining Knight-Captains Sir Niseus and Madame B'ivin. For a moment I almost stopped in place, as the way the applause and cheering was threating my calm was suddenly compounded as I realised that the Count and Countess Caro were also present. Their handful of chosen Men-at-Arms and a small gaggle of courtiers and other dignitaries were joining in on the cheering, their presence somehow more off putting than that of an entire knightly order. At that moment I would have preferred to singlehandedly face down the hordes of Oblivion and all of Nirn's monstrosities than continue being within the heart of such public acclaim.
"You all know how to make an entrance." Sir Ramauld said, raising his voice to allow it to carry over the thundering noise filling the stallion lodge.
I barely had time to brace myself before the enormous Nordic Knight grasped my hand tightly in a bone crushing grip that lasted barely a second before he moved to the others in our group. One by one he gripped everyone by the hand and his example led to us being swamped by his Knight Captains, the Count and the other attending dignitaries.
"Well, at least it appears that you both have learned how to share glory." The noise had died off as we finished receiving the personal congratulations, which allowed Count Caro's voice to carry across the hundreds pressing in around us. For a few seconds there was a ripple of amusement throughout the crowd as our group spread ourselves into a rough line before them.
"When I knighted you both," He continued, delight written across every line of his face as he addressed Viconia and myself. "I did so to honour your accomplishments, not to challenge you to outdo them."
"What can I say my lord? We like testing ourselves."
Breaking into a massive grin, he turned and looked at one particular individual in the centre of our party with the priceless relic in his hands. Thedret had willing followed us on the journey but he had refused to let the Shield out of his sight and care beyond the briefest of moments. Now dressed in partially reclaimed and recovered armour, the relic was clutched protectively in his mailed hands in a way that allowed everyone to gaze upon it and Count Caro nodded appreciatively to the young Knight.
"All of your deeds are now beyond legendary, and you all have accomplished what most have considered impossible. Leyawiin, Cyrodiil, the Empire, and even I owe you all immensely for what you have done." Slowly he looked over us all, seeing the way that we stood there filled with pride by clearly showing the hardships of our journey. His eyes came to rest on Alexi, standing tall despite the fact that his pure white tabard was now a stained grey and face twisted into a permanent smile from the jagged scar on his cheek. "Is it true that Greagious and the Black Bows are no more?"
Alexi nodded. "It is true my Lord. Greagious was slain by my own hand and his lieutenants were killed by Kaius. The rest are either dead or in captivity."
For the briefest of moments all of the years that Count Caro lived landed heavily on his shoulders but there was satisfaction in the way that he slumped. "I…" he began, pausing and physically correcting himself. "My family, thanks you all for what you have done. We are in your debt sir Knights."
The young Countess moved over towards her husband and I couldn't help but notice the way that her hand flowed down his arm briefly before entwining their fingers together. It was a simple, regal motion that on the surface appeared to be a formality but I could see the way that the older Count took solace in his second wife's presence. Her face might have been as harsh and arrogant as she had appeared all those months ago but she too was struggling not to show some sign of satisfaction or gratitude to us all.
The dark pall lasted for the briefest of moments before the Count crushed any trace of it aside with well-practiced ease. His grin grew even larger until I was beginning to wonder whether his lips would split from the effort. "The Black Bows finally destroyed for good, and another of Pelinal's relics reclaimed in the name of the Nine. I had intended on holding another ceremony in the coming days but now is as good as a time as any." Clicking his fingers, one of his attendants stepped forward with a scroll in one hand and a small box in the other. "Sir Desin, I believe that you have recovered the most relics of any being within Tamriel's history, even surpassing those within the ancient Order of the Nine."
Feeling a sudden stab of trepidation right into the depths of my stomach, I tried not to show any of my unease and returned his smile with one of my own. "I haven't been alone in my successes my Lord, I have had considerable help."
"Oh, I can see that." His gaze briefly flickered to the others standing by my side and the way that Viconia surreptitiously moved closer to be by my side in a facsimile of him and the Countess. There was no way I could not notice the way he had to look up to meet Mazoga's and Falid's gazes the second before he raised his voice to carry it to every corner of the great hall. "It gives me immense pleasure to announce that the Elder Council has ratified the reformation of the Order of the Nine, decreeing that whomever retrieves the most relics shall lead the Holy Order in the reclamation, and protection of the arms and armour of Pelinal Whitestrake."
"My Lord, I…"
"Oh for Shar's sake Kaius," Viconia said at my side. "You retrieved the Boots on your own and have been part of retrieving three other relics. You're the only one who meets the criteria."
Count Caro nodded both to me and Viconia and my quick glance to the others in the party let me see that none of them were going to come to my rescue. It was galling that I could face off against daedric horrors, vampires and other assorted monsters infesting the lands without hesitation but finding myself the centre of attention and praise was giving me the shakes and leaving me nauseous.
The scroll was unfurled in the Count's hands and the courtier stepped forward and offered the tiny box to myself. It was large enough to sit comfortably in the palm of a hand but as I took it off the man and opened it I saw that inside was an immaculately made signet ring.
"I took it upon myself to commission Leyawiin's finest jeweller on your behalf even before the Council's decree was formalised. With this ring and my authority, I declare you; Sir Kaius Trebanus Desin, as Knight Commander of the Order of the Nine."
Again the thunderous applause shook the air and could be felt through the very stones under our boots as I took the offered ring and Count Caro made a show of reading the scroll authorising my new rank and title. At that point I was far too overwhelmed to think or listen to what he was formally announcing, instead taking all of my concentration to remove my signet ring of the Order of the White Stallion and slip on the new signet bearing the Diamond Sigil of the Order of the Nine.
Despite its size, the weight of authority attached to such a simple piece of jewellery made my hand and arm feel as solid and heavy as lead. I had never envisioned myself being the commander of any number of men beyond being a Praefect in the Legion, and if I had been honest with myself, during the weeks since Viconia and I had decided on re-establishing the Order of the Nine I had purposely not thought about the consequences. Now that I was standing before a Count, wearing a ring representing the authority granted by the Elder Council Itself I was struggling to believe or even understand it all.
Sir Ramauld didn't have a congratulatory handshake for me this time and instead I found myself smothered in a momentary warrior's embrace and receiving a pat on the back that threatened to crack ribs. If he could have found a way to smile even more he would have done so, and as the noise once again died down he was nodding and gesturing to the crowd around us.
"We are equals now Kaius, but you will not truly be a Commander until you have Knights to lead. Thankfully for you I have already assisted you in this regard and several of the White Stallion have offered to swear fealty to you." There was another rolling wave of amusement from the assembled crowd at his proclamation as a number of Knights and an equal number of Men-at-Arms stepped forward from the crowd and assembled behind our group. "To be honest I had to put a limit on the number allowed to leave the Order, otherwise I would have had to rename the Order of the White Stallion to the Order of the Nine."
Both Viconia, the rest of the party and I were astounded to look upon the three ranks of Knights standing proudly in their white surcoats and tabards and the band of Men-at-Arms standing behind them. Thirty of some of the most experienced looking Knights of the White Stallion had already made the decision to leave their parent Order to swear oaths of service to the Order of the Nine. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to succumb to the overwhelming nature of the situation.
"I give you all my thanks. I…" words utterly failed me and I shrugged helplessly at the crowd around me, seeing little more than a sea of expectant gazes and smiling faces. "Thank you."
"They are ready to take their oaths of Service to you and the Nine," Sir Ramauld continued. "Along with anyone else you deem suitable or willing to join. No doubt there is going to be quite a number seeking to join the Order once word spreads."
"I can think of a few already that might be interested." I said, turning my own gaze to the handful who had fought and bled by Viconia's and my side in our quest to retrieve the shield.
"I will swear the oath." Viconia said by my side, and I managed to keep the grimace of amusement off my face at the tone she had expertly hidden in her words. I knew her better than to think that she was doing so out of some misplaced piety or belief, even if she was capable of truly putting herself into someone's else's power. She had originally taken the oath to become a Knight of the White Stallion purely for the boons and prestige that it afforded and this situation was no different.
There was a moment of unspoken questioning between Sir Ramauld and Alexi as they caught each other's gaze and after some initial hesitation Alexi stepped forward as well. "I'll join the Order of the Nine."
As the other two Knights within our party, Thedret and Falid were smiling but as I looked over them they shook their heads in alternative ways.
"My Oaths to Talos are binding Sir Desin." Falid rumbled. "I will continue on this journey alongside you but as a Black Knight."
"Thedret?" I asked the youngest Knight of our travelling band.
With his hands still grasping the shield tightly as though he expected someone to come and steal it at a moment's notice, the dark skinned Breton shook his head. "My place is with the Shield but you can rely on my support, and potentially that of the Knight's Mentor."
Weebam-Na and Bejeen shook their heads so hard I was almost expecting them to fly off their shoulders. "Oh no. There isn't enough gold in the world to get us to become Knights." Weebam-Na hissed like a pot coming to boil and chittered in his own strange laugh through a fang filled maw. "Although if you ever need guides into Blackmarsh again we will certainly consider it."
My laugh was echoed by a majority of our group but as always there was one individual who managed to make every occasion look as appetising as chewing on a mouthful of lemon. When my gaze fixed on Detane he sneered with the same venomous potency, somehow appearing as though he had just spat at my feet without actually doing so.
"I swore that you had my sword Sir Desin but there is no authority in the world capable of granting me Knighthood." For the briefest of heartbeats there was a momentary waver in his voice and expression so minute that I struggled to identify it. "Therefore I must decline your offer."
"Very well." Turning to the final and last member of the group I saw how Mazoga seemed more interested in the stained glass window that took up most of the wall on the far side of the hall than he occurrences within it. I wondered just how much of the situation she had been following which somehow amused me. "Mazoga?"
"Eh?" she started at her name and blushed as she realised that I and everyone else present had focused their attentions exclusively on her. "What?"
"I will not beholden you to any oaths of joining in service to the Nine, but there is something that is now within my power to grant you." I nodded to the floor in front of her as the slow realisation dawned across her face. "You have shown the attributes worthy of honouring beyond those in battle, and it will be fitting for you to be recognised as such. Take a knee."
Her mouth fell open but she dropped to her armoured knee so hard and so fast that I and some of the nearby servants winced at the anticipation of repairing broken tiles from the impact. Slowly I cast my gaze over the other Knights who had proclaimed their desire to join the Order of the Nine and in a shuffling mass they too knelt.
During the months since our pilgrimage along the wayshrines from Anvil to Cloud Ruler I had read extensively about the Knights of the Nine and as I stood in the Stallion Lodge a particular collection of words entered my mind. It was a collection that had featured heavily through all the books and treatise regarding the failed Order, and the last I had seen the words was etched into the tiny chapel in the Priory of the Nine before meeting those who had sworn it themselves.
"I give my body, heart and soul to the covenant of the Nine." I began, standing before Mazoga's kneeling form and trying my best to force the nervous tremor from my voice. Any potential issues with such a statement with Mazoga was non-existent as she had proven that unlike most orcs, she was not a follower of Malacath. In fact, she was possibly the least devout being I had ever encountered but it didn't make the oath any less powerful to her.
"No plea of help shall find me wanting." Raising my voice so that it carried through the entire hall, I couldn't help but feel a tingling surge of excitement as I spoke the oath of the Nine. Possibly the last time the Oath was spoken aloud was when Sir Amiel and the original Knights still lived and breathed. "No obstacle will stand before me. No evil will taint the lands of Tamriel and beyond while I draw breath. As the Eight and One are my witnesses; that which is sacrament; I shall preserve… That which is sublime; I will protect… That which threatens; I will destroy…"
"This is your oath." Mazoga's eyes rose up to meet mine from where she was kneeling as I drew Sunchild, tapping it on one shoulder and then the other before lightly drawing it across her cheek. In comparison to the dozens of other scars, including the enormous one from eyebrow to behind the ear it would have been unnoticeable but the expression on her face told me this was going to be the most memorable scar of her entire life. "And this is so you remember it."
The entire weight of every stone within the Lodge's construction seemed to weigh down on me as I looked over the kneeling Knights, trying my best not to smirk at the way that Alexi winked at me when I looked at where he was waiting on one knee. "Rise as Knights of the Nine!"
My exclamation elicited an enormous, ground shaking roar from ever man, mer, woman and beastfolk within the great hall as the ancient Order was reborn but only Mazoga remained on one knee. She was too shocked, too stunned to do anything and for a moment I feared that the situation might make her fall over; something that blood loss had failed to do.
Offering the stunned Orc my hand, she looked at it questioningly while still looking faint. "Rise a Knight… Madame Mazoga."
Taking my offered hand with an enormous green paw that fully encompassed everything below my wrist, she rose to her full impressive height as the cheering once again dwindled away. "I think that I'd prefer 'Sir' instead of Madame." She said to a rolling wave of honest laughter.
With the formalities aside and the full weight of realisation and the exhaustion of our quest into Blackmarsh began eating into our flesh. Even as the hall roared in appreciation and Sir Ramauld ordered the laying of a feast that appeared to have been weeks in the making the members of our party splintered away for what time we could. Viconia and I retreated to our allocated room, as did Alexi, Detane and Falid while the others went about their own business. Mazoga and Thedret were assisted in acquiring their own temporary accommodation within the Stallion Lodge and after paying the rest of what we owed them Weebam-Na and Bejeen made their own hasty retreats as the celebration began to grow. Our thanks for their help couldn't be summed up with simply paying them the septims we owed them and a considerable bonus but neither of them were the types to dwell on such matters and returned to their less excitement filled lives without hesitation.
When Viconia and I finally returned from our room, now dressed in our spare travelling clothes and the dust and muck of the week long return journey from Blackmarsh scrubbed from our flesh the feast was in full swing. A handful of squires, Men-at-Arms and servants with the appropriate talent had managed to procure a motley collection of musical instruments that throbbed and bounced in the hall and there was no direction to turn away from the sheer amount of alcohol that was being brought out. Our companions had also joined in the festivities in their own ways, those who had chosen to do so in any case.
Detane was the first to vanish, disappearing like smoke in the breeze and without anyone other than ourselves to take note. The hulking form of Mazoga had also vanished but in a different way, as her sheer size and personality ensured that she could be found without the need for eyes. Judging by the cheers and chanting from the far side of the hall she had somehow managed to find worthy opponents to challenge to arm wrestling and other competitions of strength. It had been a source of some amusement that no matter how hard she tried on our journey she seemed entirely unable to test herself against Falid who would refuse on every occasion.
As for the gigantic Black Knight, he had temporarily situated himself on a table nearest the kitchens after removing a majority of his armour. In quantities that in any normal being would have appeared gluttonous, if not weighing a third or half of their bodyweight he was consuming the food needed to restore his physique from the journey. No matter how capable he was, or how precise and effective his training, our quest into Black Marsh had put a huge constraint on his diet and for all intents and purposes he had been starving for those weeks. To those unfamiliar with him, the way had he devoured the food put before him was almost daedric in intensity but for those of us who had journeyed alongside him we could tell that every bite was purposely calculated and controlled.
Alexi was barely visible in the crush of nobility and courtiers that had followed the Count and Countess to the Lodge, his expression as his eyes met mine was almost pleading in an amused way. Unsurprisingly the young Baronettess Fulcalius was also present despite his best attempts to send her on her way back to her father. As soon as the ship had docked he had begun trying to make the arrangements for her journey the several days north to Blankenmarch but in the chaos and confusion of making our way to the Stallion Lodge she and the other women we had rescued had followed. From what I could hear over the pandemonium of noise in the Hall, she and the others were regaling anyone who would listen all of Alexi's knightly qualities and tales of heroism against the Black Bows. Judging by his expression it was something that he was becoming more and more uncomfortable and embarrassed about and both Viconia and I were amused that the master swordsman of Tamriel was so impossibly inept with receiving praise.
From the middle of the afternoon and well into the night the feast continued, even as many taking part became increasingly inebriated. Both Viconia and I were floating by the time we retired as midnight beckoned and surprisingly enough it was already dying off of natural causes. The Knights of the White Stallion may have been one of the most chaotic Orders within Tamriel but there was still enough discipline instilled within its members for the feast to end shortly after midnight. In varying degrees of sobriety, the men and women of the Order staggered off to their rooms, either alone or with company and for the most part the Lodge fell silent.
Morning came as it always did, filling the world with light that some particularly didn't care much for depending on the amount that they drank during the feast. By the time Viconia and I rose it was well after the eighth hour, the Lodge was filling with sound and movement and it appeared that it was indeed little more than business as usual.
For the first time in weeks, if not longer we again found ourselves with no clear goal or purpose. The journey to Blackmarsh had been exhausting and more than what we had expected. A single night sleeping in a bed that didn't rock and sway or had consisted of our bedrolls had only served to reveal just how tired, sore and battered our bodies truly were. It also highlighted that all of the events of the previous weeks had indeed happened, and as Viconia wandered off to find Ultrin's stable and I wandered in the direction of the training yards I felt dazed returning the salutes of even the most senior knights of the Order.
A large portion of the Order were still sleeping off their inevitable hangovers but for most it was a day like any other. Servants and craftsmen performed their duties, Knights, Squires and Men-at-Arms trained and many seemed off practicing manoeuvres on their enormous warhorses. As a footsoldier I preferred my own training with my feet on the ground and I was not alone in my preference. While most of the Order's Knights were busy elsewhere there were a few within the training squares, undertaking callisthenics and other activities.
Falid of course was one of the few as evident by the hovering collection of amazed onlookers as he went through his own routines. Somewhere he had acquired a millstone and a collection of varied weights that ranged from the equivalent of his enormous sword to those that would have easily been more than my total bodyweight. Entirely stripped to the waist and wearing nothing more than his pants and boots he was somehow even more intimidating than if he was fully clad in his enchanted armour. It was the fact that even with the size and weight of his armour, underneath he was a titan of an individual. Somehow the seventy kilograms of forged ebony plate armour seemed ill suited to contain the slabs of muscle covering him.
I watched for a few minutes as he lifted an iron counterweight made for assisting in opening the Lodge's gatehouse doors one handed. His face was contorted with the strain as he raised it straight armed over his head and carefully and precisely lunged forward and back a couple of times before swapping arms. Sweat was running off him like a torrent but I didn't need more than a glance to tell me that without vampirism I would've struggled to even drag the weight unaided.
My own training beckoned and I wandered off and found a small duelling square set aside for no more than two or three combatants at a time. At that point I had no interest in weights or callisthenics, but rather my own personal training to ease the tension in my limbs and body from the weeks of travelling by ship, boat and canoe.
Sunchild whispered through the air as I wove it around myself in slow but steady patterns, using the weight of the sword and the rolling motions to twist and turn me about. The strokes were lazily easy and had been drilled into me for months during my Legion training as a way to stretch and limber up my muscles. Within minutes they were already beginning to pleasurably burn, speaking to me in their own way of the journey to Blackmarsh and the strain it had put upon me. There was no real killing technique, especially those taught to foresters who were expected to fight more as duellists than soldiers in a shieldwall. We might have fought with gladii just like the legionnaires but our techniques were far different to the precise and accurate stabbing into an enemy's vitals. A forester's attacks had to roll and flow, relying on the double edged blades that we carried to equally defend and attack and to kill with cuts and slices as well as stabs and thrusts.
The familiarity of the patterns and rhythms was also instilled into us to allow us to regain a measure of calm and to control our senses. Even in the heat of battle the simplest roll of a shoulder or twist of a wrist could bring instinctive and immediate composure just from something as simple as muscle memory. During training it allowed one to control their mind, in a militaristic meditative way.
After the events of the previous day I was in desperate need of calm as even the slightest glimpse of the expensive signet ring that had replaced the White Stallion one on my hand was enough to make my heart race as though I was about to a take a life. It was proof and evidence that not only was the whole situation real but I had somehow gone from a simple Archer-Praefect in the Legion, to a deserter condemned to die, to leading one of the most independent military organisations in all of the Empire. A Knight Commander was beholden to no one other than their affiliated or sponsoring count or their local ruler and the Elder Council themselves and my new signet represented this and more. I was the new leader of arguably one of the most famous Orders and the most successful individual in retrieving the holiest of relics in all of known history.
The fact that I was also a damned individual with toxic, corrupted blood infusing my flesh to the last hair was somehow laughable and borderline insane. I didn't know whether to burst into hysterical laughter, break down and cry from terror or shout to the world how utterly, inconceivably wrong they were in their choices.
Instead I focused on the old routines that had been drilled into me through a lifetime in service to the Legion and the Empire. Cut, twist, roll, stab, slice. Slightly awkward with a four-thousand-year old elven sword made of unbreakable skymetal instead of a short, leaf bladed gladius but still familiar enough to control my breathing and fact that my heart was racing as though I had just finished running. Anxiety was a foe that truly didn't care who you were when it chose to sink its claws into your mind.
While not as familiar as Viconia's, the footsteps my vampiric hearing picked up approaching from the direction of the Lodge was enough for me to identify the source. There was only one being who walked with such grace without the gift of vampirism or hailing from the Underdark and I turned to see Alexi's grinning face.
"That's got to be some of the worst techniques for that sword I could think of." He said, moving over and leaning over the wooden fence running around the dirt of the duelling square.
"It is, but it is useful for warming up." I made a show of looking over his shoulder with a series of exaggerated movements. "No pretty noblewoman hanging off your arm?"
"Ugh, no, but the Baronetess is definitely smitten with me. I didn't believe that Mara and Dibella were gods in favour of cursing mortals."
"One man's curse is a woman's blessing." Rolling my shoulders in one last motion, I returned Sunchild to its sheath. "Did you come out here to escape?"
The puckered scar tissue from the arrow twisted in his smile but somehow didn't affect the humour in it. "Yeah. That and to ease a few of these kinks out of my spine. I granted her Ladyship my quarters for the night, but managed to find a space in the stables."
"Glad to see that you slum it with the rest of us low-born. What would the gossipmongers say if they heard the dashing Sword-Champion of Cyrodiil woke up smelling of manure?"
"I made sure it was clean before I laid down, and just for that I think you need a bit of a lesson in the manners of your betters."
Gracefully he gripped the fence with both hands and hopped over it without any effort at all.
"Betters? Unless that I'm mistaken I do believe that it was I who received a promotion yesterday."
"Please forgive me commander, I was remiss with my tongue." He said, bowing deeply at the waist with an exaggerated wave of his hands. His broadsword was already in one as he held it out to his side in almost the perfect mimicry of a travelling performer.
Both of us were chuckling as I drew Sunchild, returning his bow with one just as mocking as his own with the same lack of venom. Immediately the two of us were wary of our opponent as it had become a routine for us to practice together.
"I didn't get the chance to yesterday, but you have my congratulations on the promotion." In one smooth movement, he swung his blade upwards, bringing the crossguard in line with his eyes in salute before adopting a fighting stance.
Despite the seemingly casual way he rested the flat of his blade over his bare forearm as though it was the lip of a towershield, I could see the deadly gracefulness that infused every fibre of his being. I adopted a stance of my own, feet resting lightly on the ground and ready to jump or move either forwards or back with Sunchild held in my right hand in a more traditional fencer's grip. "Thank you. Although I am not sure whether I truly wanted such a promotion despite how I expected it."
The sudden ringing of steel echoed around us as our blades met. In one second he was standing solidly, almost flat-footedly so and the next he was as quick as a viper. On instinct alone his blade was slapped aside with Sunchild as I flicked it away but rather than following on with another blow he danced away, content with merely testing my defence.
"Do you really think that I would have taken the oath, let alone followed you into Blackmarsh if I didn't think you weren't a decent sort?"
"I thought you were bored?" I said with only mild sarcasm as we quickly traded a handful of blows in less time it took to think of them. As effortlessly as I would have killed a caged rabbit with my bow he had managed to open my defences and leave the point of his sword hovering a few centimetres from my throat.
"There was that. Don't tell anyone though, but I actually respect you Kaius." Sliding away like a spring breeze, he gave me space and we both adopted our stances again. "You have come a long way since we first met."
"I hope you realise that was only a few months ago?" Our conversation was paused for a moment as we again launched into a blistering combination of attacks, parries and dodges that still resulted with his blade piercing my defences and leaving the bout firmly in his grasp.
"I know. You have still come a long way."
By now both of us were beginning to concentrate, eyes narrowing slightly and care was taken to control our breathing. Even the greatest of fighters and swordsmen could be worn down with exhaustion and no skill in the world could keep death at bay if you had no breath to fight.
"I still have a long way to go with the sword it seems."
"Not as far as you think." We circled each other warily and Alexi's grin was no longer being mirrored in his eyes. It was an expression he wore whenever he fought and I was beginning to know it well. "You are a good swordsman, and with more practice you could be excellent."
"I am glad you are going to be with us Alexi, the gods know that I need all the help."
"Between myself, Viconia and Falid I think you have all the intimidating warriors in the land at your back."
"What about Detane and Mazoga? Or Thedret?"
There was no mistaking the way he paused at the names. Our blades flashed but again he managed to disarm me in less than six moves. "To be perfectly honest I nearly fell over when you offered Detane a Knighthood. Mazoga I can understand because she has more than earned it. Hells, she's more noble and knightly than half of the Order of the Stallion. Detane though?" his breath was long and drawn out even as he casually flicked away one of my thrusts without the slightest of effort. "That man is poison."
Judging my next attacks and trying to work out a strategy to breach the wall of Alexi's defence I thought hard about Detane and the interactions we all had with him over the weeks of journeying. He was overwhelmingly divisive and he was extremely apt at driving others away but there was something about him that was off-putting. I could still remember the way that he had turned to face the bandit in the Argonian village with the spear, and the overwhelming anger he had directed at me when I had pulled him out of harm's way.
"There is something about him." I said carefully to Alexi, trying me best not to show any hint of my next attacks or strategies. "I can't explain it but my gut isn't sitting right."
"Maybe its indigestion." Another blow was redirected away and again I found a blade to my throat. "I have to be honest though, I trust your gut almost as much as mine and I too think there's something off about him."
"More than his personality?"
Alexi shrugged. "There's that, and there's the fact that I have never encountered someone as good as a sword as he is. Men of that skill don't simply appear out of thin air and yet I have never heard or seen his like in any of the tournaments."
"You could take him though… right?"
Worryingly Alexi shrugged again and his expression was grim. "I could and would, but it would be a much closer fight than I have had in a while."
"You need to fight Viconia more often then."
We both laughed at that. "Vicky is dangerous in her own right." His sword flashed and there was a dusty rattle as Sunchild was twisted out of my hand and skittered across the dirt. The blow had been almost too fast for me to see even with my vampiric enhanced sight and reflexes. "My sword against hers I would win every time, but she's not one for fighting fair."
"Good luck dealing with her magicka as well."
"Yeah… there's that too."
For another handful of moments our swords rung through the air with a quality of their own until our breathing was becoming more and more ragged. Alexi won again, still showing the same effortlessness that he did with all things related to his blade.
"What about the others?"
Both his eyebrows raised. "Thedret? Easy. Although it would be interesting dealing that glaive of his. The Knights Mentor have always been a bit of a weird bunch."
Before we had left the Fort, Thedret had managed to retrieve some of his equipment and that of his slain comrades and Viconia and I were possibly the only ones not to be surprised at his personal choice of weaponry. Like Sir Henrik who had gifted me with a scar up the back of a leg from his ghostly weapon, Thedret used an enormous polearm instead of the typical knightly sword or mace. He had explained that it had been chosen to assist the Knights Mentor in their roles as guardians of libraries and other storehouses of knowledge.
"What about Falid?"
Alexi and I shared a mutual look of concern before bursting out laughing. "I'd have to get one or two good hits in and hope he'd bleed to death quickly. How would you take him?"
"With a ballista." I replied half-jokingly. "And at least three hundred metres between us."
We traded several dozen more blows, our concentration increasing and our breath soon robbing us of our ability to converse or tease each other. For the most part we reduced our spoken words to acknowledgements of skill and mutual praise, discussing techniques and how I could improve.
Both of us were quickly sweating in the increasing heat and Alexi's tabard was soon patchy despite the fact that it was sleeveless and allowed all to see just how muscular he was. Unlike legionaries or some of our companions there was no overwhelming bulk or size about him, but there was no doubting that underneath the rough training clothes or the mithril chainmail he usually wore was a body as tempered as iron.
I was much less elegant and had exerted myself much more than he had in my vain attempts to best him and as a result sweat was dripping down my forehead and soaking every inch of my flesh. The heat of the southern provinces was much stickier and the air was a lot closer than that of the north that I was more accustomed. It certainly wasn't helping my bouts against him.
We continued to train however and with every failure I was learning from a combination of watching and being directly taught by Alexi. There were few betters that I could learn to improve my abilities from and he seemed to take great joy in teaching those with the skill and desire to match him. I still had a long way to go but it wasn't something that would stop me from trying.
The blows rang through the metal of our weapons and through the meat and bone of our forearms and despite the casual flicks and parries he made appear oh-so-effortless there was incredible strength behind them. It had taken me less than the first thirty seconds of our first ever fight to know that without the full might of vampire filling me there was no way to best him. Even then it wouldn't have been anywhere near a one-sided confrontation as I would have liked.
Rolling my wrist as Sunchild met his broadsword I could feel the tremor course through the Ayleid blade from the impact and I felt rather than saw the way that he rolled his own sword to compensate. In less than a blink of an eye he had rolled the hilt of his weapon to minimise the amount of time Sunchild's edge had on the flat of his blade as it wouldn't take as great of a blow as expected to shatter forged steel. What surprised me though was the direction that he rolled our blades, as instead of twisting my hand and wrist around and popping Sunchild free from my grasp he moved it the other direction, allowing me to snake the point into his guard. Instinctively and before my conscious mind could truly understand the consequences there was an opening, as brief and short lived as the beat of a butterfly's wings and it was one that I took.
For the first time it was the point of my sword that had managed to come to rest close to his chest, in the hollow where his throat met his ribcage and we both stood there, stilled and both trying to work out what had just happened. I was blinking, staring with my mouth falling open in amazement at how for the first time I had actually bested Alexi.
His own shock was just as brief as the opportunity that I had grasped and his habitual smile returned in full force. "I keep telling you that you're getting better."
"Yeah…" Slowly, and feeling shocked I lowered Sunchild and took a step back as my mind caught up to where my body was. Creeping realisation set in as he too took a step back and I frowned at him. "Alright, what's going on?"
"You won, it's been quite a long time since anyone managed to get one on me."
Ignoring the way that he laughed I stopped in place and made another point at his chest with Sunchild as though it was an extension of my hand. "No, it's definitely not that. What in oblivion was that? That's got to be the sloppiest technique I have ever seen from you."
"I am human. I'm allowed to make mistakes."
For a moment I stopped, eyeing him carefully as I returned Sunchild to my side. "Yeah, but you don't make ones like that. Something's eating at you."
Alexi was a master swordsman with a confidence that billowed from him like the bow wave of a caravel but I saw the sudden pause in his motions. I also especially saw the way his eyes shifted away from me for a second.
"Ha. Thought so. Is it her ladyship?"
He chuckled and his own sword slid back into its scabbard. "What if I say yes?"
My own smile wilted somewhat as I saw the way his hand unconsciously lifted itself from his side and appeared to move towards his face. It was becoming a nervous tic and I suddenly had a flash of insight.
"Then I reckon you'd be lying. It's that extended grin you have there."
The way that his eyes suddenly locked to mine with the glimmer of shock and mild horror was more than enough confirmation. "How in Oblivion would you know that?"
"Come on Alexi, when we train I don't have a hope at foretelling or predicting your moves, but other times you wouldn't make it any more obvious if you painted it to a sign and dragged it about behind you."
"Do you have to be so damn perceptive?"
"Well, I used to be a forester so… yeah."
The way he paused and his eyes roamed around us was strangely more telling and for those few seconds I was witness to the first amount of doubt I had even seen in him.
"Do you know how many battles I have been in?" He finally asked, looking me in the eye as I shrugged.
Holding up a single hand, he extended his fingers and tucked his thumb into his palm.
"Four?" I exclaimed. "But what about all the tournaments you have won?"
Nodding to the disbelief in my voice he smiled but this time there was no humour in it. "I said battles… Not tournaments. A tournament is merely a harder training session with very little risk of drawing blood. In battle you aren't expected to step away if your opponent trips or the like… In tournaments it is all about honour and chivalry."
"I'm guessing that the one of those times was against the Black Bows?"
"I was counting the village and the fort as two separate battles…." He trailed off and I suddenly felt uncomfortable.
"Have… Did you kill anyone before our journey into Blackmarsh?"
The chuckle this time was dark and sent a chill up my spine. "I'm not a complete virgin Kaius. It wasn't the first time I have wet my steel but I certainly haven't experienced anything like that before."
My head was spinning at the revelations and I struggled to grasp hold of any of my thoughts. "What about the time the Order closed the Oblivion gate?"
"Fighting daedra isn't the same as fighting men," As he looked at me I could see the way his expression hardened and it showed me that he had seen my tiny nod of agreement. "That was the second battle I have ever been in and I was leading my Lance from the centre of the third rank. My role in the battle was little more than digging in my spurs, lowering my lance and seeing if there was anything left standing after the knights in front of me ran them down."
Again his hand lifted as his eyes moved away from me and this time he didn't stop it as he pressed his fingers into his injured cheek. "This is first wound I have ever had. The first true one at least."
In contrast to my own flesh his was almost pristine and unblemished. There were the handful of faded cuts on his forearms that all swordsmen had from their initial years of training but his were very few and testament to his natural skill. It made me all the more conscious of the overwhelming amount that I wore, from the dozens, if not more scars up my forearms and over my hands. This was not even mentioning the others from the deep, pink burns where Viconia had burned the marks of desertion away from my bicep, to the other injuries I had accrued over years of fighting.
"Forty-two tournaments, thirty-eight of which were victories and not a single scratch to show for it." His tone was mockingly sarcastic but it wasn't directed at me or anything else in particular. "Then the first time I get injured it's to some pox-ridden shit-stain with a rotting bow."
I started laughing, and he stared at me with his eyes burning holes into my soul as I witnessed him become legitimately angry for the first time. "It's not funny Kaius."
"Actually, it is." My chuckle was as dark as his was earlier but I was smiling in a way to show that I didn't meant to offend him. "That's got to be one of the best, 'first-injuries' I have seen. Do you want to know how I got my first real scar?"
He shrugged noncommittedly and still smiling I untucked my tunic from my belt and lifted it up to show the bottom rib on my left side. Pointing to the tiny jagged white scar I laughed again at the memory. "I got stabbed by an elderly Dunmer woman with dementia."
Alexi blinked, scrunched his face slightly and blinked again. "What?"
"One night while I was on leave, myself and a handful of the foresters spent most of a night in a tavern and on our way back to the fort this little old woman came up shouting abuse. It was after midnight, we were all drunk and so initially we tried to shoo her off home and not make too much of a scene. Instead her malady made her think I was her first husband who had left her decades before with another woman. Before I realised what had happened she had stabbed me in the side and toddled off. It was only when we all got back to the fort that someone noticed I was bleeding everywhere. I've lost count how many times I have scarred myself doing something stupid or while I was drunk. Hells, I'm fairly certain I've tripped onto my own sword or cut myself shaving or the like than I have been injured by others."
"How do you deal with it all though?"
"Which part? The falling over and stabbing yourself in the leg, or the getting injured?"
The twinkle of amusement was slowly returning to his eyes and his lips curled in more than just a grimace. "Both?"
"I try to walk better these days and watch where I put my feet, and honestly I don't really think about the times or the likelihood of getting hurt. I guess it's something that I have come to expect but whether it's from Legion training or not I wouldn't be able to tell you."
"How can you not think of something like that?"
It was my turn to shrug. "If you work it out please tell me and we'll both know. Although, come to think of it, if I ever did stop myself long enough to think about what I was doing I wouldn't have gone hunting minotaurs or throw myself into an Oblivion portal."
Alexi snorted at that and leaned against the fence. "I don't think you realise how much I respect you for all the things you have done. There is truly no one more deserving of leading the Knights of the Nine than yourself. I know that you aren't the type to seek out fame and glory but you have earned everything you have received." I didn't need my vampirism to hear the way that he sighed and glanced about the training yards. "Maybe one day I'll earn something similar and have my own legacy."
Almost on its own volition I lightly bounced my fist off his bicep, feeling how solid his arms truly were. "You'll be fine Alexi. Both of us have got many more years left in us…" I paused and scowled for a second. "Granted as long as Mehrunes Dagon and Umaril don't wreck the world in the near future."
"I hope so. I hate feeling like I haven't achieved anything." He sighed again, glancing between me and the ground. "I have only gotten this far from luck. Only lucky break after another."
"You've worked your arse off to be as good as you are."
"Besides my skill with a sword, what am I?" His eyes burned into mine again, drawing his sword and holding it up on an angle as though he was inspecting it for the first time. "I was granted this sword by Count Caro because I proved to him and his court that I could fight." The pommel thudded into his chest as he rapped it against the White Stallion Heraldry on his tunic's breast. "I received my Knighthood because of the same reason, but the only way I was in the position to be noticed was because my grandfather was born a bastard to Count Caro's father. A son of a haberdasher becoming a page to an Imperial Count because he happens to have a spoonful of noble blood somewhere in him."
"That's more than I can say about myself. My father was a hunter to the local lord. When he died I was too young to take his place and so my family and I were left to our own devices. I was fourteen when I joined the Legion and had never picked up a sword before some centurion pressed a gladius into my hand."
"It shows." Slowly his usual amusement and teasing attitude was returning. "Although you are also the prime example that there is no better teacher than combat."
"Yeah, but I wouldn't recommend it. You tend to get beat up regularly."
Both of us shared a chuckle and while I could still tell his dark mood was still gripping tight he was still able to smile that wasn't just a scowl of scar tissue. "What is the plan from here o'great and worthy commander?"
"Well, I was thinking about doing a bit more training, kicking your arse again and then promoting you to Knight-Captain. After that Viconia and I were planning on lunch and going to the Cathedral to see what we can do about retrieving the Mace."
"If you think that I'll let you have it easy again you are going to be sorely disappointed." This time his laugh was almost entirely that of a challenge as I moved from the fence, drew Sunchild and gave a few experimental swings. "Wait… Knight-Captain? When did I get demoted?"
"When you swore your oath to me of course." I replied with a full volley of sarcasm. "You don't bring your rank with you when you change orders. You're going to have to prove you're worthy."
"By the Nine you can be a bastard, but you're a bastard I can follow into battle." His own sword once again grew into a silverly swirl as he swung it about himself to loosen his shoulders and arms for another bout of training. "Maybe I can actually train you well enough that you will be a challenge for once."
Our laughter this time was loud enough to be heard over the sound of our swords striking together once more.
In Oblivion, the culmination of the quest(s) against the Black Bows results in both the Player and Mazoga becoming "Knights". As a result you become the Order of the White Stallion and get access to a dingy, run down hut which passes itself off as the Stallion Lodge.
The mod I have based the Order off is very much a different situation entirely although I have taken huge amounts of creative licence with it all. Mazoga is one of those characters that interests me despite her limited appearance in game, and so making her become a Knight of the Nine, rather than a Knight of the White Stallion made more sense and allowed me to keep her around for everything I have in store for Kaius and co...
Knight is slowly expanding and we are very much on the home run for the completion but so far I have had to split some of these chapters into more managable sizes. While this isn't affecting the overall length/word count it is increasing the number of Chapters. A lot is going to happen between now and the end, especially how Umaril is still hovering around the background with his face as-yet unsmashed. hehe.