The sun was rising over the prior in yet another day of hard work, but for many of us we were waiting, watching for signs of movement within the forest. It had been late in the afternoon when the first sings from our scouts and hunters had been provided of an armed body of men approaching from the north, along what was quickly becoming a road through the forests. Our hunters had not provided much more details than an approximate number between fifty and a hundred and yet there had been no messenger from the travelling group. Which, normally would have resulted in a significant amount of concern from those of us within the priory if not for the fact that we were expecting visitors.
"You need to relax." Muttered Alexi at my side, dressed as he had for days in his armour. "If you look any more stiff, then the rod up your arse has just received a rod up its arse."
"Don't threaten him with a good time." Viconia added from my other side, her grin cracking and revealing flawless white teeth. "The only question that I have is how he managed to get a rod up his rear with how many people have been jostling for the privilege."
"Enough. Can't I just stand here and worry in peace?"
Alexi's grin grew larger and I tried to ignore the face he made, knowing full well that he knew I could see him in the corner of my eye. "Oh I'm sorry 'My lord'. I didn't appreciate how we were interrupting your brooding. Perhaps I shall go off and seek refreshments?"
"Must you make a joke of everything?"
His expression turned into one of playful hurt, clutching at his breast as though in the midst of the throes of heart attack. "Ah! You wound me so. After so many months together you haven't realised that me making jokes of everything is the one thing that I excel at?" For a moment he paused, the smile on his face growing even larger. "Besides horsemanship, my swordwork, my extensive abilities within the bedroom…"
"If your skills in the bedroom are considered the epitome of excellence, then I truly fear for the standards of surfacer women." Viconia teased in return.
"Et tu Viconia?" he replied in Ancient Cyrodillic.
"I personally don't know how you can't be nervous about this." I stated simply, trying my best to ignore the way that my stomach seemed to be dropping even further with every minute that passed.
"Because my dear friend," Gracefully he cast his arms about himself at the various men and mer arrayed before us. "we are currently surrounded by the best the Empire has to offer. Who are also entirely at your beck and call, I might add."
"If they are who I think they are… and are coming for the reasons that we think they might be… then we don't have enough on our side."
Alexi's expression may have appeared jovial but I could see the steel of his own anxiety under the surface. We were currently standing in the midst of a pair of deep formations of infantry formed from the men-at-arms of the Order of the Nine and some of our knights were lingering further behind on their horses. While it represented a majority of the Order's remaining strength it was a fraction of what it had been over the previous months since we had re-established it.
Horns echoed out from the depths of the forest, and the sinking feeling increased within my guts at the haunting notes. It was tempered by the fact that the particular sounds were not those of warning or of attack, but standard calls announcing friendly or neutral arrivals.
The horns certainly didn't reduce the unease of the men-at-arms as they seemed to tense just as much as I did, shifting their grips on their shields and many dropping their hands towards their sheathed weapons. Their presence was more of a precaution than anything, allowing an honour guard for a friendly arrival, or a defence for a hostile.
At first the horns were all that revealed the presence of the group, but soon they began to appear through the thinned trees on the track to the north. There were a handful of outriders dressed in light mail slowly advancing towards us with their hands away from their weapons and shields strapped to their backs, and even before they reached the edge of the forest the rest of their group appeared.
There were dozens of them, many mounted on enormous horses and were a wide assortment of armed soldiers and unarmed civilians. Most were unarmed, and surprisingly enough I immediately noticed how most of those who initially appeared as soldiers were also unarmed, their weapons and armours being carried on their saddles of their horses or loaded into the backs of a handful of wagons that also accompanied them. Several of the horsemen were leading their steeds along by the reins, choosing to walk rather than ride.
The sight of such a group was completely at odds with the fact that a number of the individuals and their horses were giants of individuals. Each were easily heads and shoulders above myself and nearly every man and woman within the Order of the Nine, with only one possible exception. Falid, standing off to the side dressed in his full armour simply raised his hand in salute, calling out to the advancing group and receiving a simple, yet friendly response in turn.
"It does appear the Black Knights have arrived." Viconia said with a complete and utter lack of emotion in her voice. "I was expecting a lot more pomp and ceremony."
"Well, we have been spoilt with rubbing shoulders with aristocracy for some time. Looks like we have to muck about with real people once more."
I couldn't help but smile at Alexi's sarcasm and I felt at a loss of what to do as we watched the giant Redguard warrior we had quested alongside stride out to meet the new arrivals with a somewhat uncharacteristic bounce in his step. His helmet was clasped by his side in its custom leather sling to reveal his features, and it didn't take long at all before several of the individuals within the approaching group to approach him in turn.
"By the Nine, I thought he'd be the only one."
"Of his size?" Viconia replied to Alexi's exclamation of surprise at how those moving over to Falid were all easily a similar build. "Well, there is only a dozen or so of them so I suppose they had to make up their lack of numbers with something."
"I suppose we should go and introduce ourselves?" Nodding in the direction of Carodus he took the sign to stand the men-at-arms down and even before we had stepped through their ranks they were already slowly dispersing.
Most of the new arrivals were still making their way from the edge of the forest with the exception of their outriders and the small group clustered around Falid. However, small was only possible to describe the number, not the sheer size of each of the individuals as each of them were all giants of similar builds to our companion, outweighing myself, Viconia and Alexi combined.
It was hard not to feel intimidated at the group as we approached as the shortest of them still stood a full head over myself but there was no sign of hostility, especially when Falid gestured at our approach.
"Sir, this is Sir Desin, Madame DeVir and Sir Vanevius."
One of the hulking giants, a Redguard of the same extraordinary size of Falid moved towards us with a smile on his face. "Excellent. I am Grandmaster Stavond Dhirgen. It is good to meet you all at last."
I couldn't help but compare this situation to the first time we had met Duke de'Leorion with the overwhelming pomp and fanfare, especially as I found myself grasping the giant hand of the commander of the Black Knights of Talos. It felt surreal, despite the way that his hand made me immediately think that I was shaking hands with a statue carved out of a mountain and knew that even with my vampirism it would have taken significant effort to overpower him.
"Greetings my Lord." I began, feeling the raw power in the hand that fully encompassed mine and the fact that he could break bones if he wished, which was completely at odds with the way he suddenly smiled at my words.
"There are no lord's here, Kaius. I have permission to call you Kaius?" His grin was contagious and I found myself looking up at Stavond as he released his grip and gestured around to his fellow knights. "Afterall, it is my understanding that you are commander of the Order of the Nine, which makes you my equal in rank."
The informality of the meeting was disarming and I found myself smiling along with him and his comrades, seeing the way that despite his own rank there was nothing to show of it on his person beyond a signet ring. His clothing was poor, yet sturdy and there were no signs of wealth beyond a pair of comfortable boots and a belt around his impressive waist that was certainly not some simple leather make. Even the other knights were similarly dressed, and all bar three of them were completely unarmed and unarmoured. Those that were almost identical to Falid, their armour as black as midnight, fluted and perfectly fashioned from ebony.
They were relaxed and friendly despite their intimidating natures, introducing themselves in turn to myself and the others. Stavond was content on sitting back as all the introductions were made, waiting patiently until we were all finished before we turned our attentions back to one another.
"You and your knights are welcome to stay and we have more than enough room to cater for your followers." I said, trying to sound more friendly and relaxed than what I was currently feeling. "A room within the priory will be made available for yourself through the course of your stay, and others for your commanders depending on availability."
"Oh that won't be necessary." A quick glance was had between them all and their commander and I felt as though they were laughing at a joke that they only seemed to understand. "We will not be needing anything fancy. Just point us where we can set up and we will provide the rest."
"You will have the pick of locations around the priory." With a smile on my own face I gestured at the somewhat thinned tent lines and wooden buildings in various stages of construction. "We have had several vacancies open up over the past two weeks."
"So I have heard." Turning to one of his men, Stavond nodded in the direction of the wagons and the dozens of camp followers and without a word being said the knight began walking over to them. "I must say I am a little disappointed that Duke de'Leorion isn't here to greet us. Just where is your lord?"
The humorous undertones of his statement and the fact that he was trying not to entirely smile showed me his true thoughts on the subject but didn't stop me replying in a more neutral fashion. "The Duke has returned to High Rock and his family estate to gather support for the Order."
"Ah. I see." Replied the giant knight-commander, showing that he also knew more than what he was letting on. After the Duke's failed attempt to claim the relics he had quickly left the Priory with a large portion of his knights and followers and I knew that rumours of what had happened were spreading quickly throughout the Empire as fast as messengers could carry them. The official story that was being spread was that he had chosen to support the Order from afar using the political and economic might of his duchy and not that the last that any of us had seen him was riding hard to the north, with most of his courtiers and knights a hundred metres behind and struggling to catch up. "What of Baron Jaseton?"
"The Baron has taken the vows." I replied smoothly, staring ahead as the two of us began walking in the direction of the Priory and the mass of curious onlookers approaching to meet the new arrivals. "It is my understanding that his health has been degrading over the past years from old tournament injuries and he decided to retire from public life."
This time there was no reply from Stavond, instead I saw the way that his lips pursed and a hint of a smirk appeared. Baron Jaseton had truly retired from public life, as his confession and the revelation of how he had gained his title had immediately disgraced him in front of a lot of people. The further confessions from several of his closest courtiers who immediately sold him out to save their own skins had simply added to the end result which ensured that the Title of the Barony of Norvulk was no longer his. This, combined with the fact that his duel with Detane had left him missing a hand, and a finger and thumb from the other had left him with a future as a landless cripple under the care of the Church of the Nine. The last any of us had seen him was during the exodus of many from the Priory, sitting atop a wagon being cared for by a priest of Stendarr.
Standing so close to Stavond as we moved into the edges of the Priory ground I was getting the feeling that he and some of his knights were suffering from some form of gigantism. They're sheer size, while plausible was what I could describe as excessive and unnatural but for the moment at least it didn't appear to be negatively affecting their skill at arms. They were all in the prime of their lives, filled with life and health and judging by his reactions and the way he was looking over everything with a keen eye I knew without a doubt that Falid had informed him exactly what had happened over the past weeks through their correspondence.
"With the Duke and Baron gone, it would appear that you are in command of the Order of the Nine." He said after a few moments silence as we casually walked side by side.
"I have heard myself being described as the Order's regent."
The mild trace of humour in my words matched his and he nodded in agreement. "Very accurate I must say, but nethertheless it means that you are in command here, Kaius. Please don't consider my order or myself to be seeking to supplant you. We are here because the Relics are here."
"I understand that your Order is responsible for protecting Relics of great power."
"Indeed we are." The look in his eye was undeterminable but he was in agreement. "I assume that Falid informed you of why were had come in the first place, but it appears that our original fears have not come to pass. He told me what had happened. Falid is one of the greatest members of this order and there are few whose judgement I trust more and for this reason I offer the support of the Order of Talos in these coming days."
For a moment I was stunned. I had been expecting many things when the Black Knights finally arrived and this was considerably different and it took me a moment or two of compose myself. "I… uh… Thank you."
"There are dark days ahead of us Kaius, and I know that you certainly need support here. I know that despite the relics being reclaimed for the first time in history that one of them is currently corrupted and needs cleansing. I also know that it is extremely likely that Pelinal's true heir is here but is hesitant in his duties."
"Not as hesitant as he used to be." Stavond's gaze turned and fixed itself on me and I couldn't help but feel small in the presence of a warrior who was easily twice my bodyweight. "Since the… event with the Duke those weeks ago, Caleb has been spending a large amount of time alone in the Priory's chapel and communing with several individuals."
"Other members of the Order?" He asked helpfully and I knew without a doubt that there had been little that Falid hadn't told him. Caleb had spent most of his days in discussion or prayer, but it had been on rare occasions that he had been talking with people who were still alive and breathing. Most days he was inside the undercroft with the original Knights of the Nine and I had been seeing a significant change in his manner during that time. I would have also bet a considerable amount of Viconia's and my remaining finances on the fact that Sir Amiel and the others would've been training him as well.
"Yes. I am gaining confidence that he will be capable of donning the mantle of the Divine Crusader. The biggest concern I have though is the current state of the Sword of Arkay."
"Where is the Sword?"
"Locked away within the Priory and separated from the other Relics. Its influence is… malign and I'm not willing on taking any chances."
He obviously approved but his expression had turned sombre. "The Black Knights will be able to assist in cleansing the Relic. We have several priests and clerics among our number with experience in such matters. In return I do have a request to make of you. Two actually."
My suspicions and the left over remnants of unease from the previous weeks with the Duke and his cronies must've been partially visible and Stavond slapped me on the shoulder. Although he had held back his considerable strength I had the feeling that he could make someone cough up a lung if he wished. "Fear not Kaius, I will not ask anything of you that is not fair and just. My order protects relics of great power and as we are all here, so are our relics. My first request is simply for somewhere secure to place them while we are with you."
"Easily granted. We have two strongrooms and that's not including the undercroft, although we will have to ask permission of its current inhabitants for its use. What is the second?"
"The second is that although I am willing to assist you and the Order of the Nine, I am not willing to place my men or myself directly under your command. We will work together, but the Black Knights allegiance is to mighty Talos and the Divines, not to mortals. Even mortals as accomplished as yourself."
"Unless I am mistaken, we are the same rank…" I caught my words a little too late and hid the unease on my expression as I knew that 'officially' we were anything but. "I mean my temporary title provides me a similar authority as yourself."
"Now that is an answer I am happy with." Again, the paw of a hand tapped me on the shoulder and I wondered whether I'd be bruised under the daedroth scale armour. "I think I will enjoy my time here but I can promise you that you will not have the same problems that you are more accustomed too."
Again his hand dwarfed mine as we shook them, and I couldn't help but marvel at his size and power. There was something almost unnatural with the whole lot of the Black Knights, but unlike all my previous experiences with daedra and the damned there was nothing untoward amongst them that I could discern. "You and your brothers will be welcome here Stavond."
"I feel as though we already are." As his grasp on my hand was released he nodded approvingly, looking about the tiny sea of tents around the priory itself. "I must beg your leave for the moment and see to my Order. I will seek you out once we are established and have had time to brush away the road dust."
"I will send you the Order's Steward to assist you with anything you may need."
In one fluid, well-practiced movement he tapped his forehead, lips and heart with his fingers, bowed and moved away with all the inevitably of an avalanche, leaving me standing there in awe and in some level of confusion at the apparent change in our luck. Things were going extremely smoothly, and I couldn't help but shake my head in amazement at the sight of the Black Knights assisting their camp followers in setting up their camp within the Priory grounds.
Whether they were knights, men-at-arms or their various labourers and artisans, each and every one of their Order were helping the others in setting up their tents, unloading their wagons and generally taking time to ensure that they were all looked after. It was incredibly refreshing after the weeks with the Duke and the others exploiting and abusing their power to have another group of knights of similar ideals to those remaining in the Order of the Nine.
My thoughts were interrupted by someone calling out my name, and I turned to see Viconia and Alexi walking towards me with another person leading a mule. The mule itself was old and moth-eaten, and for a moment I didn't understand why they were walking with its owner who looked just as exhausted until the spark of recognition entered my mind.
"Saccicius?" I asked, seeing both Viconia and the old man smile at the sound of my voice. "What are you doing here?"
"Following the will of the Eight-and-One." Replied the prophet of Anvil with a large smile breaking out across his face.
His appearance, while a surprise since the last time we had laid eyes on the faithful preacher many months before was still strangely heartfelt. Viconia and I really hadn't spent much time beyond an evening with the old legionary but his sudden arrival was comforting, if not a bit unusual. The last we had heard he had been continuing is speeches and sermons within Anvil, and had no idea that he had even left the city, let alone embark on a journey to the Priory of the Nine. It was as he explained, something that he felt was needed with the recovery of all the Relics of the Crusader. The Crusade to recover them had been wildly successful, and all that was left was for Pelinal's heir to wield them in the battle against Umaril the Unfeathered. So when the Black Knights had passed through the city from Hammerfell he had joined them.
While the Black Knights and their supporters made themselves at home, Viconia and I found ourselves spending a large majority of the day simply talking with Saccicius, discussing everything that had happened and our various quests to reclaim the relics. The fact that we had reclaimed over half of them put us within the greatest of adventurers Tamriel had ever seen but he seemed to understand our drive to continue on. Umaril was now physically treading the ground within Nirn and we had to find where he was, and somehow convince Caleb to take up the mantle.
Surprisingly enough, over the days that followed we soon found ourselves closer and closer to our ultimate goals. Between the arrival of the Black Knights and the presence of the Prophet of Anvil there was a building energy throughout the Order that could almost be touched with both hands. Everyone was almost beside themselves with combined excitement and foreboding, especially as the preparations to cleanse the Sword of Arkay neared fruition and it wasn't hard to see how every knight and man-at-arms were doubling down in their training. Battle was quickly approaching and what that represented was not lost on anyone.
It took a week, utilising the full assistance of almost every priest near the priory and significant preparation of the chapel but almost before we knew it the ritual was ready. Every inch of the chapel built within the priory itself had been cleansed with holy water and pages from holy scriptures had been attached to the simple altar to purify it. The sight of such a place, especially with how it had looked when Viconia and I had first entered the run down and dilapidated priory all those months ago was startling. Each of the altars to the Nine Divines had been lovingly restored, their mosaics containing their commandments restored to glory once more and despite the somewhat burning sensation of entering such a holy place I felt strangely comfortable. There was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn't be able to remain for long, but I had confidence I would be able to stay long enough to see the ritual through.
The simplicity of removing the curse from the Blade of Arkay was somewhat surprising and required very little in terms of items or even a location. In fact, the most difficult part of it all was finding enough individuals of sufficient faith and knowledge in exorcisms to undertake the ritual. In the end it came down to a handful of priests or ex-priests waiting patiently around the altar where a flame had been lit in its basin after being filled with consecrated oil. Between the censures and the burning flame the entire chapel felt strangely soothing and calm, and yet I couldn't help but feel the crawling sensation of my own internal corruption railing against it.
"Are we ready?" I asked softly, feeling cowed by the oppressive silence and trying not to look like I was lingering towards the back of the chapel. There had been no questions or complaints from anyone when I turned down the offer to directly take part in the ritual. They all may have thought I was simply being piously modest, but I didn't want my vampirism to inadvertently ruin the Swords reconsecration and the more distance I kept from its current corruption the better I felt.
The handful of people standing in a semi-circle around the font nodded with somewhat nervous smiles. These people represented the most experienced both the Orders of the Nine and Talos could offer, and many were not surprising to me at all.
Avita was there, somehow looking extremely comfortable and yet out of place in her blue-green robes of Kynerath and I couldn't help but smile at the handful of others who were familiar to me. Areldur was also standing in the group in his orange habit, looking much more faded than many of the others which was a sign of his years as bishop to the cathedral of Stendarr in Chorrol. Most of the others were from the Black Knights and represented the other gods of the Imperial Pantheon, with the exception of Saccicius in borrowed red-green robes of Talos.
"We are. We will begin as soon as… ah."
Even before Saccicius could finish speaking, standing in the centre of the row of priests I felt, rather than saw the presence enter the chapel through the doors. There was over a dozen of us arrayed along the rows of pews, ranging from myself and the other commanders of the Order of the Nine such as Alexi and Viconia, to the entirety of the Black Knights of Talos in their awe inspiring armour. The thirteen of them were truly giants in their black, fluted plate, the winged horns on their helms threatening to drag furrows through the ceiling as they moved but they were rendered utterly insignificant to the being who walked through the doors.
I had known that Caleb had spent hours, if not longer talking with many people at the priory, ranging from myself on the rare occasion to the giant Grandmaster Stanvond and even Saccicius. His change in attitude has been blindingly obvious from the shy, reluctant young man that we had first met in Leyawiin's cathedral to an increasingly focussed student of war, but I was not prepared for what I saw as he came into the chapel.
For the first time in four centuries, not only were the relics of Pelinal Whitestrake reunited, but they were being worn and wielded by a singular individual. For those several seconds I thought that my eyes had grown too accustomed to the shadowed interior, but as tears began to weal up in my eyes I realised that the brightness was coming directly from him. Each and every piece of the armour was aflame with incredible power, rippling and coursing across it and highlighting the intricate details of the gods themselves. The armour fit him perfectly, as though it had been made exclusively for him and I felt the sheer agony of his purity punch into my mind until I could barely see or barely think at all.
The Mace of Zenithar was clasped by his side in a leather sling hanging from his belt, glowing with fey light despite the fact his hands were nowhere near it. All bar his face was clad in the pure steel of the gods, the Helm hanging by the opposite side to the Mace and across his spine lay the Shield of Julianos. Each and every single piece, from the Boots in their depictions of the beauty of nature to the Gauntlets covered in cursive script detailing Stendarr's teachings were positively infused with a power that was painful to be near.
As I turned my head and tried not to show my unease at the sight, I found myself somewhat comforted by the fact that I was not the only one who had to turn away. He was too powerful, too… pure and the vampire within me was quailing at the sight. There was very little of the young man left in the godly being that moved to the font, but I could still see that despite everything that he had done and decided, that he was still the same man that he had been when we had met.
As one the priests bowed their heads and they certainly weren't the only ones to do so. Caleb stopped before the font, kneeling before the representatives of the Nine and made their sign with his gauntleted hands.
"I am ready." He said. The words were simple but there was an echo of something deeper within them now, as though the very might of the relics were seeping into his flesh the longer he wore them. There was entirely no doubt that he was chosen to wear and wield the relics and the shiver of anticipation crawled up my spine.
"Caleb Farrier." Saccicius intoned, his hands clasped into the folds of his sleeves as he looked over young man kneeling in the most priceless of Tamriel's artefacts. "You are here before the eyes of the gods as their chosen champion, to do battle with evil and accept the duties and responsibilities these relics provide. If you are willing and prepared to accept this holiest of duties, repeat after me."
Seeing no hesitation or sign that Caleb was going to refuse or do otherwise, Saccicius nodded, clasping his hands together and began reciting the Order of the Nine's oath. "I give my body, heart and soul to the covenant of the Nine…."
"I give my body, heart and soul to the covenant of the Nine." Caleb replied, without any hesitation and without raising his head from his kneeling position as he repeated the oath. "No plea of help shall find me wanting. 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."
"Take up your sword." The priests intoned as one, and I watched with a burning desire as the corrupted weapon was withdrawn from its secured container covered with holy wards and blessed sigils. One of the priests from the Order of Talos, a scrawny old man by the name of Kasistian dressed in the blue-black robes of Arkay seemed hesitant in clutching the cursed weapon. After an moment he seemed to visably swallow in trepidation, before lifting it out as the rest of the priests began chanting and praying as. Slowly and carefully, but, but precisely passed the weapon hilt first through the consecrated flame in the font. Within seconds they were trembling and sweating from the sheer act of touching such a foul weapon but they continued without hesitation, holding the incredible sword with the flat of the blade until the hilt had managed to pass through to the other side of the flames.
Only now did Caleb move, lifting his head and gazing upon the hilt still shimmering with fire and reaching up to grasp it without hesitation. There was no momentary lapse of will from him or any of the priests but it was obvious that they're collective strength had been taxed to the fullest by such a seemingly simple act. Areldur especially was pale and appeared struggling to hold himself upright with a combination of his own private curse and the ceremony, but as their fingers left the weapon's blade I was holding my own breath with anticipation.
A shudder was flowing through Caleb's arms as he held the polluted weapon, pulling it slowly out of the fire that ensured that the burning oil still coated its length as he did so. The dark canker within it was still powerful, but so was the purity of the seven relics that was clad in. Unearthly lights seemed to flicker and glow from within the armour he wore, the gauntlets especially throbbing with a might that was threatening to make me violently sick and yet there was no change to his expression as he grasped it with both hands. The flames were continuing to lick and simmer over the blade's edge but slowly, almost imperceptibility it began to change.
To the others I will never be certain whether they could sense the changes but to my own internal corruption, I could somehow feel the way the sword changed. It began slowly, the flames from the consecrated oil beginning to die as their fuel source was extinguished but the infernal call of the cursed weapon was dying with it. The burning, hateful need to possess it changed into something far less, soon becoming a murmur that died as quickly as the flames but it was already being replaced with something far more powerful.
Ethereal lights began playing up from the hilt, shining and dancing like will-o-wisps and multiplying just as quickly. The need to jealously replace the weapon was replaced in my mind with a burning pain from its proximity that mirrored that of the other relics but I don't think any of us were expecting to see the blade engulf itself in flames once more.
These were no normal flames born of natural oil or fuel, but an intense fire than seemed to scald away the corruption of everything and everyone within range. While a peerless weapon with an edge unmatched beyond enchanted weapons such as the Light of Dawn, it had changed into something even more incredible. There was no longer any desire in me to clutch or claim the relic, and with the flames flickering over the metal it was painful for my corrupted being to even glance at.
Caleb however was staring into the flames, watching as they grew larger and larger but his expression was one of dawning realisation. It did not appear as though he was only now realising what he, and he alone seemed capable of achieving but of something else, some deep epiphany revealing itself to him through the ghostly flames. His expression of shock however was short lived, as the flames died and he was left blinking, staring at the shimmering blade he was holding that was now utterly cleansed of the taint.
The expressions of everyone else were overjoyed, grinning with success and victory and the only ones who weren't were the priests and priestesses who were now looking utterly spent from their efforts. Saccicius, despite his own age and exhaustion nodded in his own acknowledgement of their success, looking down on Caleb and cracking a smile.
"Rise Caleb. Rise… as Caleb the Crusader."
For a moment Caleb seemed to be unable to hear him or perceive anything around himself as his eyes appeared glued to the flawless metal of the Sword of Arkay. Saccicius appeared about to politely cough or repeat himself but Caleb rose, reversing his grip on the lengthy bastard sword and resting the tip of it on the tiles at his feet before looking about himself.
"I… I know where to find Umaril…"
His words, while softly spoken sent a chill up the spines of everyone present and suddenly we all found ourselves leaning forward in expectation. There was no hint of deceit in his voice, only a slight confusion as he tried his hardest to understand what had just happened.
Of everyone in the room, only Saccicius seemed unmoved by the statement, smiling faintly that seemed to hide a deep-seated pain that was not brought about by his age or the stress of the ceremony. Instead he made a distinct gesture to Grandmaster Stanvond who began to move forward with a pair of his knights carrying a long thin object wrapped in silk.
"You have stepped from the humble shadows of obscurity and into legend. No feat you could have accomplished in your life compares to what you have become, Caleb. You are an embodiment of Pelinal Whitestrake, the bane of Umaril the Unfeathered and the time has come for you to fulfil your destiny."
"I am ready." Growled Caleb, stating a fact rather than bloodthirsty bravado.
Sadly shaking his head, Saccicius tried not to look despondent at the fact. "No. Should you face Umaril, you would suffer the same fate as Pelinal. But times change and even the shape of the divine itself must change with it. Where once there were Eight, now One more stands with them and they have become Nine. So, although you wear the armour of the gods, it is incomplete… A relic of the old ways and the old gods."
Slowly, the two giants in black plate carefully, and reverently unwound the enormous strip of silk away from the item they were carrying to reveal an enormous lance of purest steel, inlaid with silver and platinum and faintly glowing with power.
"Suumdostrun; the 'Breath of Storms'. This lance is the greatest of Relics of Talos within the care of the Black Knights." Stavond announced as the weapon was fully revealed to us all. "Forged from the wing bones of the Dragon Kriidkallstrun and wielded by Tiber Septim in life; it is now yours to wield in battle against the Unfeathered."
The four-metre-long lance was awkward to grasp from the offering hands of the Black Knights protecting it, especially in the confines of the Chapel but we all saw how the ancient weapons enchantments were suddenly infused with new power as Caleb grasped it. Just like the Mace and Sword, glowing fey lights appeared within the metal of the relic, fusing into its very core and growing powerful within moments.
"Talos grants you his sacred Blessing." Saccicius said as the glow grew more powerful within the Lance. "With the ancient gifts of the Eight, and the new gift of the One you are ready to face Umaril. These combined blessings will allow you to destroy him, body and soul utterly and for all time. His daedric nature allows his spirit to escape into Oblivion after death… this is what Pelinal learned upon defeating Umaril the first time but you can now do what Pelinal could not. This you and the Knights of the Nine must do, and you must not fail. You will not, because the Nine fight with you."
All of our months of journeying, questing and retrieving the relics, suffering injuries and travelling from one end of Cyrodiil to another and beyond had culminated in this one event and now all the preparations had borne fruit. We had retrieved the relics, protected them from those who were unworthy, had fought, bled and suffered and now the end was in sight. Caleb had adopted the mantle as the Divine Crusader, the relics had been united and now there were nine where there had been eight and not only that he had somehow been granted sight of where Umaril was to be found. All that was left was one last journey, and to face down the evil that was plaguing the lands.
The announcement that Umaril had been discovered swept through the priory and all of its inhabitants like wildfire and while there had been doubt to the accuracy of such a statement, all it took was a single look at the Knight that Caleb to lay them to rest. There was no doubting that he had been blessed by the Divines and the Relics throbbed with holy power whenever they came close to his person and with such a figurehead to rally behind the Order prepared for war.
It took very little time at all to be readied, the men and women of the Order of the Nine had been training and practicing for this very moment ever since they swore their various oaths of allegiance and they quickly went about preparing. Arms and armour were packed, horses saddled and overnight the entire military might of the Order of the Nine, and the Order of Talos were ready to march. Two hundred men-at-arms, over fifty knights and dozens of wagons and camp followers were arrayed in a long formation consisting of everything they would need for the long march ahead of us. not many of us really knew where we were going beyond a cryptic 'north along the coast from Anvil' from Caleb, but it was more than enough to follow.
I was mounted upon Trygve, almost all of my worldly possessions packed into his saddlebags with Viconia and Ultrin standing nearby. From my position in the saddle I could easily cast my eyes over the entire formation, seeing soldiers and knights giving their last farewells to friends and family alike. Caleb was also there, close enough that his presence was a burning sensation on my skin from the purity of the relics, but the expression on his face was calm at our collective future.
"Are we ready commander?" He asked with echoes of power infusing every syllable.
"We are." I nodded, twisting Trygve around by the reins and raising my fist into the air. The various sub-commanders scattered throughout the formations quickly moved their troops into position, allowing them to say their final, final farewells and I tried not to think of how many of them may return to the Priory afterwards. Many of the men-at-arms and several of the knights were leaving behind husbands, wives and children and they were arrayed along our flanks with tears flowing freely for many.
There was one person who's face I locked onto with my gaze, standing close to the centre of the long rows of soldiers with excitement on his weathered face. Carodus was as ready as an ex-centurion could be with his back ramrod straight and gladius clasped to his side and I wondered if he could be any more excited to be marching once again.
"Carodus, something lively if you please."
"Aye Sahr!" he replied, and with a grin he nodded to the handful of individuals standing close by with their collection of musical instruments. Within a second of me dropping my arm and a bellowed 'Forward!' ringing through the air, the Knights of the Nine stepped off to the sound of horns and drums.
