Dark Castle, Misty Forest, Ghost and Coven
Somewhere in High Rock, a few months ago
Secunda shined her light all alone that night, revealing an empty hilly countryside covered by pines and dead-looking trees, all enveloped in a deep mist. There wasn't a single animal or being around, not even a single noise troubling the scene's tranquility. A glow suddenly passed on the small trail of earth that separated the trees.
The glow revealed itself to be a black rider mounted on a flaming horse galloping at a quick pace. It suddenly stopped its course, before gazing at the landscape before it.
A lone castle hanging on a hill was dominating the region, its towers and enclosure walls piercing through the fog. A flock of dark birds, enlightened by the Moon, flew over the fortress. It looked completely deserted.
The rider grabbed a map from its horse's satchel, scanning it before putting it back in place.
"We're here," Cyrus said as he patted his atronach mount.
After arriving before the castle's entrance, the Necromancer was about to announce his presence by using a lion-headed knocker (Bretons do love their lions) only for the gate to open from itself.
The rider and his mount carefully penetrated the keep, scanning its courtyard to find it void of life.
"Welcome to the Château de la Clerçon, Monseigneur Battlemage, the chatelaine has been expecting you," a heavily accented voice suddenly said out of nowhere.
Cyrus turned around to see a small man, dressed in dark richly decorated servant clothes, probably the butler or headservant.
"Follow me please, your horse and luggage will be taken care of," he continued as two other servants arrived, none of them seeming disturbed at the idea of handling a daedric mount.
The Battlemage proceeded after the man, examining the castle up close. He could appreciate its architecture, with its majestic pointy towers and its statues (a lot of them gargoyles). Cyrus briefly wondered if the former style hadn't been influenced by the glass towers of Summerset Isles; given High Rock's history with the Direnni, it was possible.
The butler opened the keep's door before inviting the Necromancer inside. Contrary to what he had seen from afar, the interior was quite illuminated. He was led through a maze of corridors before arriving into what looked like a salon. A fire was burning in the hearth with someone sitting in an armchair facing it though Cyrus wasn't able to tell who it was, seeing only the back of the seat.
The head servant bowed before speaking in common Bretic, "Madame, le mage de guerre."*
"Merci Etienne," a female voice that could only belong to the lady of the castle answered. She rose from her chair.
Cyrus immediately took out his helmet to salute her.
The chatelaine was brown haired and possessed flawless and very pale skin. She was quite tall for a Breton, even a head taller than Cyrus who wasn't small at all, indicating a possible strong Nordic or Altmeri ancestry given High Rock's history, though given her lack of otherwise merish look, the Heartlander was opting for the former. She didn't seem very old, more or less in her thirties.
The Lady had evidently been in the middle of a drink as she put down a glass of some unspecified crimson liquid, gazing at him from her red pupils, her lips spread into a smile which revealed some very sharp, fang-like, upper canines. She presented him with her hand.
"Dame Constance de la Clerçon, to whom I owe the pleasure, Messire?"
He respectfully kissed her knuckle. "Battlemage Cyrus of Argos from the Shadow Legion, Madame."
"I hope your trip was pleasant enough, our castle is rather far from civilization."
"I've known worse, especially during the last War."
Her smile widened. "I hope you'll have some apetit left, I have prepared a small feast to welcome you. Nothing grand, really, my daughters will be joining us." She turned back to her butler, "Etienne, please show our guest his chambers."
The servant acknowledged the command with a small bow before leading Cyrus upstairs.
While big, the castle wasn't as impressive as Jing's parents own mansion but it was still enormous, the Battlemage being for a moment almost worried of losing himself.
"Here, Monseigneur," Etienne indicated to him as he opened a door. The room it leads to was spacious enough, his luggage being already here. A window gave a view on the misty valley below.
"There's a bathroom in the back of this corridor with running hot water if you want to bathe yourself. Supper will be served in one hour. And one last thing," he showed him a bell, "ring this if you need something. A servant will come."
Cyrus thanked him before getting out of his armor as Etienne left. After washing himself, he reread his orders. They mentioned disappearances and worrying sightings not far from a local hamlet who had been completely deserted by its inhabitants, either gone or had fled. Granted, this wasn't out of place for a rural isolated area in High Rock.
The orders had precised the chatelaine was on friendly terms with the Shadow Legion and had been warned about his impending arrival.
So here he was for his first mission since being reintegrated after the War, in a castle out of nowhere ruled by a local noble vampire and about to attend a feast with her and her daughters… assuming they were her biological daughters.
He didn't know how to feel about the whole ordeal. Then again, he had been more focused on taking a mission than anything.
A few days ago, on the Battlespire
"What's new today?" Black-Scales asked his colleagues and friends.
Nag shrugged. "Same as yesterday, I guess. Patrols, artifacts checking, enchanting, potion making and whatever task the higher ups tell us to do."
The Argonian sighed. "Maybe I should have asked to be assigned as the Battlemage of a standing cohort."
"You know they don't do that with Nightblades, or Necromancers for that matter," his friend pointed out. "Why don't you go grab a mission instead?"
"Yeah, I should perhaps be doing that," he replied.
As they watched the facility's main teleporter leading to Tamriel, they were surprised by Caranya arriving with someone they hadn't been expecting at all.
"By the Divines… Cyrus is that you?"
The Orc put his hand on their returned friend's shoulder, almost ready to embrace him in a bone-crushing hug. "Nice beard, it changes you."
"Greetings Nag, Black-Scales," the Heartlander replied in an unusually emotionless neutral, cold, even tone. "It's been a long time."
The forgotten Altmer cleared her throat to make them aware of her presence. "So, you don't salute superior officers anymore, soldiers?" she said in a threatening tone.
This led to both the Argonian and the Orc to suddenly shift their friendly attitudes to the salute positions. "Yes Ma'am! Sorry Ma'am!"
The Captain's sudden angered expression morphed into a smirk. "That'll be all, you two can relax now. After all, we're not on an official assignment yet."
"Scary as always…" the Nightblade whispered, he then turned back to Cyrus. "It's been so long… how are you?"
The Nibenese deflected the question with another. "Is Jing here?"
Nag and Black-Scales exchanged a knowing look while Caranya lowered her head.
"No… we haven't seen her since… you know."
"I see," Cyrus said as he began to leave.
"Hey, where are you going?" Nag called out to him. "The Necromancy wing is not there. Come, I'm sure Azad, Elizabeth and the others will be happy to see you. We have so much to catch up."
"Indeed I have," he acknowledged, turning back to glance at them. "I'll be taking a mission assignment. I guess I'll see you in a few days."
"But you just arrived!" Black-Scales protested. That wasn't like the Cyrus he knew at all.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Caranya looking at him. "Just… give him time."
As Cyrus put his helmet on, most of his fellow Battlemages didn't pay him attention other than saluting him as he passed by. He gave them back their greetings.
He arrived where the available missions were displayed. They consisted mostly of unsolved supernatural cases that necessitated knowledgeable experts or 'clean up' missions which needed well trained individuals. Battlemages having no assignment could take one at any time, checking with their relevant officer if they were fit or not for the mission.
Cyrus took one and read it. It took place in High Rock and the notice said to report to Magus-Commander Aelius Sejanus for further information as he was the one to put the note. "I guess this one will do."
The Battlemage was meditating on his bed. He had traded his armor for an Akaviri outfit, similar to the one Caranya had gifted him years ago but upsized. It was both simple (as it didn't consist of many layers) and garish like typical Nibenese style. And it would fit a feast with nobles.
Someone knocked at his door. "Monseigneur, supper's ready," a servant he didn't recognize informed him.
He found himself seated right next to one of the Dame's daughters, a blonde haired beauty who shared her mother's skin and eye color. She seemed to be the oldest of the group, if such a thing was possible. Whether they were actually related, Cyrus wouldn't have been able to tell.
"May I introduce my dear daughters to you, Messire Cyrus" Constance, who was facing him, said, "Miranda," the blonde woman next to him nodded, "Esther," another one, this time sharing her mother's hair color, blinked at him, "and my last one, Dorothea." She was the smallest of the three and dark haired. She smiled at him though it somehow looked... mischievous.
"My ladies, I'm honored," he said with a tilt of his head.
His "recovery" had finally paid off. He was letting the soldier take over, hiding the man. It wasn't actually as hard as he thought it would be, the fact he was on mission helped him since it didn't pass as odd.
His hosts didn't eat much, which didn't surprise at all. They were vampires after all, he suspected they had filled themselves with blood before he arrived then switched. Not that it would have bothered him given his line of work. The supper's main plate consisted of a roasted pork with potatoes, arguably a bit heavy
"Tell me, Cyrus," the lady of the castle began politely as she looked at him, "is it your first time coming to this part of High Rock?"
"Actually Madame, this my first time coming to the Bretons' homeland at all."
"Truly?" she said, her glass wine in her hand, her smile showing her fangs, "And how do you find our beautiful lands so far?"
"I must say, the landscapes I have seen on arriving here are quite a sight. Even with all that mist," he replied between two bites of pork.
"You have to admit, it gave the scenery a certain charm."
"If that isn't impolite, Messire, could we know the reason for your presence here?" Miranda asked after serving herself a drink. "It's not every day we receive guests, let alone a Battlemage from the Shadow Legion."
"That's not true!" Dorothea suddenly exclaimed with a smirk. "There is always that friend from Mother that comes from time to time. I think he has almost the same armor as you."
"Hush Dorothea!" the last daughter, Esther, ordered her sister.
Her friend in Battlemage armor?... Wait, does she mean Magus-Commander Sejanus? He did seem to know Dame Constance quite well when he mentioned her during the briefing.
He chose to ignore it for now, concentrating on answering to his table's neighbor. "There've been a number of worrying events happening at a local hamlet called 'Lacassagne', not far from here."
"I know the place. I've heard rumors of disappearances happening," Constance confirmed after she took a sip of wine.
"It has been completely abandoned from our sources," Cyrus added. "Those that remained fled and notified the closest city about what had happened. That's how we learned what was going on. Rumors have been haunting the area ever since then."
The chatelaine shook her head. "Tragic but not uncommon.."
"A ghost…" Miranda mused before turning back to him. "Do you believe that wraith was the cause of these disappearances?"
The Necromancer put his fork down. "No, I do not believe so. Ghosts don't make people vanish away. I believe the culprit is something else, cultists, rogue mages, perhaps even bandits…"
"Or vampires," Dorothea finished for him, her smirk widening.
The rest of the table glared at her as the room fell silent.
"What? I'm just saying it's a probability, nothing more."
Her mother sighed. "Child… you do realize our guest is aware of our nature?"
The young vampire face morphed into a shocked expression before glancing at the Battlemage then back to Constance. "Really?"
"It's hard to miss," the Nibenese calmly revealed. "Misty isolated castle, the pale skin, the red eyes, the fact you are barely eating at all and of course your fangs." He served himself some wine as he talked, suddenly showing his own set of pointy canines, though doubled unlike the vampires. "That and Magus-Commander Sejanus had warned me beforehand."
"And it doesn't bother you?"
He shrugged. "Are you going to attack me to feed on my blood?"
"Well…" the rest of her family sent her another glare before she could joke about it, "no."
"Then it doesn't bother me."
The girl gave him a deadpan look.
Cyrus paid no heed to her before continuing. "Forgive me for asking this Madame but would you have any suspicions about who would be behind such events? You must know the region well."
"I'm afraid I cannot help you with this matter. What happened to Lacassagne is a complete mystery, even to me. This region never had such problems."
"Then I'll see for myself," he concluded.
Constance clapped her hands to let the servants know to bring the dessert, an apple pie. After quickly finishing his share, Cyrus excused himself to take his leave.
"Of course, a great task awaits you tomorrow," the vampire Matriarch commented. "You'll need all the rest you can have. Miranda will accompany you, she knows the place."
He bowed before departing for his chambers. "Good night Madame, my ladies."
The night was without any incident, Cyrus had a dreamless sleep. When he woke up, the sun wasn't up in the sky yet.
He rang the bell to call a domestic.
A maid entered his room as he put his armor on back.
"Monseigneur, do you need anything?"
"Could you warn the chatelaine I'll be leaving soon?" He had already packed away his belongings.
"Of course," she answered with a small bow. "But do you need me to take your luggage?"
He shook his head. "I'll carry it myself."
The castle's mistresses had gathered in the courtyard to wish him farewell with the exception of Miranda, who was to leave with him.
She mounted a black steed and had traded her gown for a cloak covering her head with some kind of light armor underneath.
"May the Gods' blessings accompany you
, Messire, I think you will need it," Constance wished him as she gave him a bag he tied to his saddle. "Here are some supplies, it might come in handy."
"Thank you Madame."
"My pleasure. Oh and if you see Aelius, I mean, Magus-Commander Sejanus, give him my regards."
"I won't forget." He saluted them. "Madame Constance, Lady Esther and Dorothea, I thank you for your hospitality as short as it may have been. You'll be the first to know what happened at Lacassagne once I fill my report."
"And if you fail?" Dorothea questioned.
Esther immediately elbowed her, which caused the girl to emit a yelp of pain before glaring at her sister.
"If I fall, you'll know it as well," he replied without any trace of emotion, "I'm a soldier, it is expected."
"Messire, we should depart," Miranda told him.
He gave her a small nod before saluting one last time to the de la Clerçon family.
The blonde vampire launched her horse at full speed the moment the gate opened. The Heartlander immediately followed after her.
After descending the hill, they crossed among the misty forest, feeling eyes observing them even though they couldn't see anything when looking, neither in the bushes, in the trees or anywhere.
They didn't care, as a Necromancer and a Vampire they were more dangerous than any animal, spirit or other creature living in the woods. Not to mention this was de la Clerçon territory, nothing would dare attack them.
Miranda occasionally turned around, to check if her companion was still behind her but to her relief, he had no trouble following her. There was no direct path from the castle to the hamlet, which is why they had to cut across the woodlands.
They soon left the forest behind as they arrived into what looked like abandoned fields, nature having started to reclaim its rights. A lone scarecrow welcomed them before they penetrated the hamlet proper. It consisted of several dozens of houses (Cyrus counted a bit more than twenty) concentrated around what looked like a farm. After further inspection, most of the buildings didn't look very old.
A few glances inside showed the inhabitants had left in a hurry, forgetting some of their everyday utensils and belongings, clothes, forks, spoons, knives…
"The big farm was the first building here," the Battlemage deduced as it pointed at it.
"Indeed," his vampiric companion confirmed. "Someone claimed it a few years back, moved here with a few families and started clearing the lands around. Over time, more people came to install themselves." She sighed, "we thought for a time it was gonna become a full village. We've been all alone for so long, it would have been nice for us to have neighbors."
The Cyrod didn't comment on that, preferring searching for clues about what happened here.
"I know what you're thinking," Miranda told him as she watched the man wander around. "That most people would simply despise our family for what we are and that may be right. But our servants are loyal to us from their own will, we didn't enthrall them. Maybe… maybe Lacassagne's inhabitants could have accepted us too."
He didn't answer her, still searching the houses.
She frowned, becoming frustrated. She cleared her throat to attract his attention.
He spun around. "Apologies for my rudeness, my lady. But keep in mind few people have an open mind about vampires."
For a good reason, she thought, remembering how dangerous it can be when being deprived of blood for too long. She shook her head.
"Did you find anything?"
"Nothing. Whoever were the attackers, they didn't seem to have come from the village." He took a look at the sky. Magnus was hiding behind clouds, for the moment at least. "You should go, my lady. I'll be here for a while and we don't know how long the Sun will remain masked."
Miranda crossed her arms over her chest. "You don't intend to have backup?"
"I wouldn't have gone alone if I did."
Point taken
"Still, I'm hardly defenseless, I'm a vampire after all."
He raised his thumb. "One, you're not at full strength," he added another finger, "two, as I said earlier with the clouded Sun, you risk more than being weakened," then a third one, "three, vampire or not, you are a civilian and thus should not involve yourself with this."
She shrugged, raising her arms upwards to show he had won. "Fine Messire, I'll take my leave." For once something was happening around here. She walked towards her horse. "Are all Battlemages like you?"
"Depends"
After she left, Cyrus sat on the ground in front of the farm, to reflect on his current situation. He hadn't found anything to indicate the attackers came from the hamlet itself, so he needed to wait for the only person that could help him with that, the ghost.
He called his mount, grabbed the bag of supplies Dame Constance had given him before starting to eat some of them, saving the rest for later given he would stay here for a long time.
A few hours later
Cyrus sat in the middle of the hamlet, in meditation's position, making his magicka circulate within his body properly to relax himself.
The night was beginning to fall.
It was a sudden sensation of cold that heralded the dead spirit's arrival.
To be clear, it wasn't an actual physical sensation but rather something mental, an instinctive sense of dread.
The Necromancer opened his eyes, scanning his surroundings, until it fell on the ghost.
Ghosts were the souls of the deceased that had, partially or not, stayed trapped on Nirn when they should have ascended to their afterlife following their beliefs (though they were a few cases when it was natural and the ghost being merely remains of the soul left behind to serve a particular purpose, such as protecting a family's tomb, especially among the Dunmer). What caused such occurrences was generally the result of an unfinished business in the world of the living, a violent death or a curse.
The appearance of that particular spirit told enough about itself to the Battlemage. It had retained enough of its former appearance to not become a faceless ghost but not enough to appear as the full spirit of a deceased person, something in between. But there was something else about it, or rather she.
She was barefoot, levitating above the ground instead of walking. Evidently in life she had been an inhabitant of the hamlet. Secunda and whatever of Masser that wasn't hidden shined upon her form. She appeared fully clothed in a white beautiful gown, almost like the kind the local women wore at their weddings but without a shroud. At times, when the moonlight danced upon her, it seemed her face became more emaciated, undead-like, revealing for the neophyte her true nature. She looked young, no more than seventeen years old.
He unconsciously clenched his fist. What a waste.
Cyrus knew the legends about ghosts like her, the White ladies, the Banshees, the Wispmothers, the Onryos… though said stories always forgot that all these spirits only shared the same appearance, a feminine ghostlike figure, never their nature.
His thoughts were cut short when she began to sing.
Huna blentyn ar fy mynwes,
Clyd a chynnes ydyw hon;
Breichiau mam sy'n dynn amdanat,
Cariad mam sy dan fy mron;
Ni chaiff dim amharu'th gyntun,
Ni wna undyn â thi gam;
Huna'n dawel, annwyl blentyn,
Huna'n fwyn ar fron dy fam.
It wasn't common Bretic nor a regional variant he recognized as far as he could tell but her voice was… melodious. Probably some kind of lullaby. It brought back memories from his childhood he had almost forgotten, buried somewhere in his mind.
Huna'n dawel, heno, huna,
Huna'n fwyn, y tlws ei lun;
Pam yr wyt yn awr yn gwenu,
Gwenu'n dirion yn dy hun?
Ai angylion fry sy'n gwenu,
Arnat ti yn gwenu'n llon,
Tithau'n gwenu'n ôl dan huno,
Huno'n dawel ar fy mron?
He slowly approached her, the white lady not moving as he became closer before planting its staff and sitting on the ground, waiting for her to finish.
Paid ag ofni, dim ond deilen
Gura, gura ar y ddôr;
Paid ag ofni, ton fach unig
Sua, sua ar lan y môr;
Huna blentyn, nid oes yma
Ddim i roddi iti fraw;
Gwena'n dawel yn fy mynwes.
Ar yr engyl gwynion draw.
As the silence fell, her gaze met the Battlemage's. They simply stared at one and another for a moment.
"You are not afraid of me," the ghost simply stated.
"It is you who should be."
Her face disfigured with anger and fear before emitting a shriek. "Necromancer!"
He simply nodded, remaining calm. "I am. But I'm not here for you."
"Then heed my warning, leave like the others before it's too late for you too."
"What is your name?"
The ghost gave him a bewildered expression. She seemed to briefly struggle before speaking. "Emilie, that was my name. I think my mother gave it to me."
Forcing her to remember her living past was the first act to break her curse.
"Was it her who taught you the song?"
"I…" memories flooded her mind, happy memories of herself and an older woman putting her to bed. "I think so."
He gestured to the houses around them. "Miss Emilie, I was sent to find whoever did this but I need your help. You alone can tell me what happened here, end the curse that ties you here."
She didn't answer him right away, instead turning her back to him and left the hamlet, obviously wanting him to follow. She led him through the fields then the woods to finally stop at a clearing.
The Nibenese looked around it, finding nothing wrong with it. He turned back to the ghost, only to find her gone. A brief glance at the spot where she used to be showed something glowing. He reached for it, revealing itself to be a collar.
It must have been hers… before all of that.
If this was the site of her disappearance, there weren't any traces of blood or struggle, granted the evidence could have been erased. On the other hand, the earth hadn't been plowed, so the body hadn't been buried here but taken away.
A sudden noise of branch cracking sent him on high alert, taking his staff out.
Something leaped from the shadows, attempting to attack him. He managed to dodge it, taking a good look at the creature before him.
It was a necromantic creation, no doubt about that, the rotten animated body of a giant hound. It was soon joined by other undead, reanimated armored corpses mainly, which quickly surrounded the Battlemage.
He tried to lounge at one of them, only for the dog to charge him, knocking the mage to the ground. A zombie approached the downed young man, raising the handle of his mace above his head then struck Cyrus, knocking him out.
They bound his arms with enchanted handcuffs to prevent him from casting spells before dragging his body away. Unknown to them, Cyrus was only pretending to be unconscious during the whole ordeal.
He had theorized that whoever was behind the disappearances needed the villagers bodies, confirmed by the fact Emilie's corpse was taken whole. As for why someone would need intact bodies… his captors' very nature easily answered that question. For all he knew, they might have been former villagers themselves.
His captors brought him to a hidden underground passage, no doubt the entry to their lair. It was there that he sprung into action.
While the handcuffs did prevent him from spellcasting, it didn't stop him from activating some of the enchantments he had kept on his clothes in case of a similar situation, such as a disintegrate effect. His restraints briefly glowed red before being destroyed, allowing him to both recover his magicka and his freedom of movement.
The undead minions immediately reacted to this by snarling and brandishing weapons, obviously intending to put the man out of commission in a more permanent manner.
Cyrus responded by quickly concentrating his magicka before releasing it in a sunfire aura (Necromancers were required to learn every undead related spell, especially the anti-ones), reducing every undead caught in the radius into ashes.
A few archers that hadn't been near him took aim and fired arrows, in vain as the natural protection of his armor was enough to stop the projectiles. He counter-attacked with a ball of sunfire, killing them all.
The situation pacified, the Battlemage telekinetically grabbed back his staff then studied the place around him.
It was a natural cave that had been partially rearranged, sources of magical light were lighting a corridor facing him. He decided to follow it while being on guard. It was a straight direction before turning left.
"Lilie! Come with me, the minions just got back and the master ordered me to check on them," a voice suddenly echoed through the cave in a local language.
"Yes, mistress," someone replied in a very monotonous voice.
Cyrus immediately hid just before the curve, turning off the nearby lantern. His black armor helped conceal him in the shadows as he cast a weak night vision spell to observe them.
Two women arrived towards him. One of them had her face partially hidden by the black skull-faced robe she wore. It couldn't have been more obvious that she was a Necromancer.
The other one was dressed in a very revealing outfit consisting of only a bra and a long loincloth dress, which led the young man to wonder what was actually her role here. That is until he realized that she was actually a reanimated corpse, likely he almost spat, the "toy" of the female Necromancer. He briefly lingered on her face who somehow looked quite familiar.
His blood froze when he finally recognized her. It was the body of Emilie.
That is what happened to her!? Her fate?
He clenched his teeth before calmly breathing.
Right as they passed near him, the female spellcaster noticed the lack of luminosity. "Weird, why is this turned off? I should go check…".
It was at this moment that Cyrus leaped from his cover, projecting her with an elbow to the belly which cut her breath as well as projecting her against the opposing wall. "Lilie" immediately stepped up to defend her fallen mistress but she was unarmed and too physically weak to do anything and the soldier merely made a hand gesture with two fingers pointed at her, hitting her with a Damage Health spell, capable of instantly killing weaker beings by sapping their very life.
The puppet fell on the ground, her blue glowing eyes taking back their normal green color.
"Lilie, no!" the downed girl screamed as she vomited blood due to internal bleeding. She difficulty got up, invoking a strong frostbite spell towards the advancing Battlemage.
He merely countered it with his flaming aura before raising a closed fist to drain the girl out of her magicka, rendering her harmless. He gripped her by the neck, threatening her to crush the life out of her. "By Imperial and High Rock laws you have committed several grave crimes against Imperial citizens, including unsanctioned use of Necromancy, stripping you of your citizenship and its rights. I have the right to do anything on you now, so you will answer me!"
His grip hardened when she didn't reply to him and she started coughing.
"I… I will comply," she finally answered in Tamrielic, causing him to release some of the pressure on her neck.
That's when he realized she was around the same age as Emily would have been if she was still alive.
"Who are you? What is your master's goal?"
"My name is Anne, I was an inhabitant from Lacassagne."
A traitor, he mentally grunted.
"I met the master some time ago when he came to the hamlet, seeking to install himself there. He was unapologetic about practicing the Dark Arts and when I showed interest in learning from him, he began to teach me. But the others feared him and drove him from Lacassagne. Some even started to turn their back on me," she recounted.
"And instead, you joined his coven and kidnapped innocents to use for his experiments, I take?"
"Yes… but they didn't give me a choice!" she protested, for a moment forgetting he could kill her in an instant.
Of course, always someone else to blame
He gestured to Emilie's body. "And what about her? What did she do to deserve her fate?"
"Lilie…" Anne almost whispered, as if she actually felt sorrow. "I didn't mean to! I swear! I told her she should flee with me! That we didn't need the others and we could be happy, just the two of us together!" She shook her head. "But she didn't want to and when I told her where I was going, she tried to stop me. But I didn't mean to kill her! You have to believe me!"
He almost wanted to end her and right now. Whatever that girl had felt about Emilie, that wasn't love, it was… toxic. She couldn't have her alive so she made her her pet, how could she even look at herself now?
"And your master? What does he want?"
"Take over the region for his own experiments. He didn't tell me what it was."
So the usual then
His grip lessened, letting the girl fall.
"You can go."
Anne looked at him with surprise until she felt chills in her back, her hair creeping on her neck as she heard a familiar tune.
"But I doubt she will let you do so," Cyrus added as he pointed to something behind them.
She turned her head in the direction he showed only to yell in terror.
Emily's ghost was watching them, or rather her in particular.
"Lilie, please, it was an accident. I didn't mean to! You know I loved you!"
The spirit didn't seem to care as it rushed towards Anne, grabbing her in her cold embrace before forcefully kissing her. The other girl tried to struggle only for her arms to fall limp. The white lady then let go of her, causing her body to fall, dead.
Neither she or Cyrus said anything as they stared at each other for what felt like hours. He reached for something in his interior pockets, handing her the necklace he had found.
"I think it was yours," he simply said.
She gazed at it before shaking her head. "Keep it. It's of no use to me now."
"Do you have any family I could return it to?"
"They were the first to flee, look in the nearest village."
His fist hit his chest. "I will do so," he swore.
He then went to grab Emily's body and put her against the wall in a sleeping position. The ghost observed him then glanced back at Anne.
"She once told me she loved me. And I think I loved her back," she hid her face in her hands, as to weep. "Why did this have to happen?"
"I'm sorry. If I could have done something..."
She looked back with a surprised expression, shaking her head. "You're already doing something." She grabbed his hand, causing him to almost recoil but not because of the sensation but rather that he hadn't expected it. "Thank you."
She started glowing. "I think my time here is done, farewell."
He gave her a nod. "May you find peace at last, Emilie of Lacassagne."
She then vanished, leaving him alone with the two bodies.
His gaze briefly wandered on them. "Time to do my job."
Several black robed figures busied themselves in the cave central room. Bodies had been put in piles for them to practice their art on them.
"What is Anne doing? Shouldn't she have been back by then?" a Necromancer asked as he sat on a chair.
"Give her some time," another replied. He was working on a dead body put on a table. "She's probably having 'fun' with that girlfriend of hers."
"Girlfriend? Yiicks, I'd rather fuck a goat."
The noise of footsteps coming towards them alerted them.
"Hush now! She's coming back! Remember she's the master favorite!" He then turned back to his work. What he didn't expect was the corpse to raise up and stick his scalpel through his skull.
"What in Oblivion is happening?" others yelled when they witnessed the scene, starting to gather magicka to defend themselves.
Bodies from the pile were reanimated as well, but not by them. The Necromancers fought back, flinging spells at them.
"Who did this?" one of them accused after sending an ice pike through the skull of a woman's body.
His only answer was a fireball sent detonating against his back, incinerating him and two of his "colleagues".
The survivors turned around to see a black armored form standing at the entry, another ball of flames in their hand. "Vae victis."
"Fight back!" a female rogue mage ordered. She blocked Cyrus' path with an Ice Wall, trapping him.
He merely flared his flaming aura before going through the magical barrier without any injuries. His enemies countered with a combined Ice Storm, forcing him to cast a Ward. While he maintained the protection with his left hand, he used his staff to rapidly fire a series of blasts at the spellcasters.
Having no time to counter him, the majority died on impact, their bodies exploding in gruesome ways before their remains burned. Others, who had temporarily forgotten about the recently made undead, were strangled to death by the zombies.
The last Necromancer tried to flee, only for bone hands to sprout from the ground, grabbing their legs and holding them in place.
Cyrus approached them. "Where is your master?"
The black mage, who appeared to be female, indicated him the other side of the room. "In his personal laboratory."
The young man then drained her of her magic and broke her neck.
He didn't encounter anyone before arriving at the end of the lair when he caught the sight of someone's back sitting at a desk and writing something on a sheet of paper.
"What is it? Can't you see I'm busy right now? I said to call me only when absolutely needed."
The Heartlander cleared his throat to draw the person's attention.
The Necromancer spun around revealing an old shriveled Breton with a white beard. He seemed somewhat surprised at the armored figure facing him but not really bothered. "Did you bother me only to show your new magnificent armor or is there something else that actually requires my attention? A new batch of prisoners? Anything?"
"In the name of his Imperial Majesty, Ivan Mede the First and by order of the Elder Council, I sentence you to death."
The old man's eyes widened. He grunted something under his breath, likely a profanity. "I see. I suppose the others are dead then? No matter, I am Charles-Henry of House Gilbeau, disciple of the Order of the Black Worm! The blood of the Direnni themselves flows through my veins! What hope do you have against me, you little…"
An absorbing magicka spell hit him while he was busy ranting how better he was than anyone else. The man was so self-absorbed he noticed it too late to raise ward. "Aaargh! Manant! Villain! Lowborn! You think you can vanquish me?"
It was at this moment that a door on the side opened, probably after Charles-Henry activated a secret mechanism of some kind. A giant harvester, one of those lamia-like four armed Daedra, entered.
"Kill the outsider," the old man ordered the creature.
Cyrus glared at the fiend before a cloud of magical dust surrounded him. The creature targeted him with a powerful lightning bolt that exploded and shook the room upon hitting the young man.
Charles-Henry smiled, thinking his foe reduced to ashes. His smile turned to horror when the dust dissipated to reveal a Bone Colossus in the place of the Battlemage. The transformed Cyrus rushed to counter-attack the harvester in close combat.
The Daedra continued with a series of lightning spells, unable to damage his opponent. The Colossus collided at full strength with the beast, sending it down, then forcefully opened the fiend's mouth to put his glowing staff's blade. This resulted in the daedra's upper body exploding when the fire spell was released. The soldier then focused back his attention on the old Necromancer, slowly making his way towards him.
"I surrender!" he pleaded. He gestured to the notes he had been writing as well as his desks and the shelves around it when quantities of magical materials were stored, including some Black Soul gems. "You're a practitioner of the Black Arts yourself, I know it! I have many great things to show you, just spare me."
Cyrus's undead form dissipated as he grasped the elderly mage's shoulder. "Didn't you hear me before?"
"What…"
He didn't manage to finish his sentence as he was yanked by his beard and then violently projected at the other end of the room.
"I sentenced you to death." He raised his fist when he had concentrated a purple sphere before releasing it on the downed Breton. He gave him a hard kick in the sides, the sound of bones breaking resonating, before stomping his head, crushing it. Purple lights leaked from the body to the nearest black soul gem, which the Nibenese grabbed.
"That was for Emilie and Lacassagne."
He calmed himself, taking a deep breath. He then went to look at what the man was writing before he interrupted him. It was a series of notes in modern Aldmeri.
So he wasn't just some random schmuck
He stopped when he realized the old man had been attempting the path to lichdom, unsuccessfully so far. The takeover of Lacassagne would have given the resources needed to find the missing ingredients, the Sands of Resolve. Apparently Charles-Henry didn't know how to obtain them.
Cyrus burned the notes. He didn't need to know more.
When he exited the lair, the young man was followed by several of the former villagers and coven's victims he had reanimated, some of them carrying the bodies too damaged to walk.
He ordered them back to the hamlet before cancelling his spell, sending them back to the state of simple corpse.
"Took you long enough," a familiar voice said.
He blinked when he saw Miranda walking towards him.
"I take it you've succeeded in your mission?"
"I did. I just need to find a priest of Arkay to tend to them," he replied after gesturing to the bodies.
She nodded, gazing at the bodies with a melancholic air. "I see… I hope you've avenged them."
For a moment, he thought back about the filled black gem. "I did."
"Will you be staying around for a while?"
He shook his head, grabbing Emily's necklace as he walked to his horse. "I just have some unfinished business then I'll be on my way."
"Then farewell, Cyrus of Argos, may we meet again under better circumstances."
Common Bretic lexicon (in old French) :
Château de la Clerçon : Castle of the Clerçon
Monseigneur : Milord
Messire : Sir (literally "my sir")
*Madame, le mage de guerre. : Milady, the Battlemage.
Merci : Thank you
The lullaby song full translation (Welsh) :
Sleep my darling, on my bosom,
Harm will never come to you;
Mother's arms enfold you safely,
Mother's heart is ever true.
As you sleep there's naught to scare you,
Naught to wake you from your rest;
Close those eyelids, little angel,
Sleep upon your mother's breast.
Sleep, my darling, night is falling
Rest in slumber sound and deep;
I would know why you are smiling,
Smiling sweetly as you sleep!
Do you see the angels smiling
As they see your rosy rest,
So that you must smile an answer
As you slumber on my breast?
Don't be frightened, it's a leaflet
Tapping, tapping on the door;
Don't be frightened, 'twas a wavelet
Sighing, sighing on the shore.
Slumber, slumber, naught can hurt you,
Nothing bring you harm or fright;
Slumber, darling, smiling sweetly
At those angels robed in white
(It's actually the Welsh song Suo Gân, a well known lullaby. I recommend for you to listen the Maid of Sker version of the tune on youtube)