Don't fight Orcs, they hate to lose
Don't fight Wood Elves, they cheat
Don't fight Imperials, they'll never forget it
Don't fight Khajiit, they scratch
Don't fight Nords, they love to fight. More than you ever will
The next morning Claudia saw that Do'Ravier had indeed returned as she saw his feline form in the line for prayer. Bann-Je was definitely back to his neurotic self. Sibylla was in her usual grouchy mood that early in the morning so there was nothing different about that.
What was different was when, after the prayers, Do'Ravier tiredly dragged himself off to the kitchens to grab breakfast. He was usually shuffling off, happy to take on a new day and to get into accidents.
Carefully making her way to the kitchen herself, Claudia found the Khajiit resting his forehead on his fist, his eyes closed in exhaustion while his ears hung halfway, refusing to stand on his head. There was a steaming mug of what appeared to be a very strong brewed cup of tea but he was not drinking from it.
"What happened to you?" Claudia asked in shock.
Do'Ravier only groaned, not even changing his posture.
"Had too much fun studying the ruins?" Claudia jibbed, buttering a slice of bread to eat.
Do'Ravier did not respond.
"Not only am I taking that as a 'no' but I have a feeling there's more to this story." Claudia said cautiously.
His eyes still closed, the Khajiit took a sip from his tea and very groggily told his story.
"So let me get this straight..." Claudia started.
Do'Ravier simply laid his head on the table though an ear half raised showed he was paying attention.
"All the mages that went with you either were killed or seriously wounded. Meanwhile this girl you're sweet on sobbed to you how her past lover was unfaithful to her and so now she's packing it off to Skyrim and probably will not be coming back." Claudia recited.
Do'Ravier grunted as he hid his head under his arms as if trying to block out the light. Or the world.
"I'm...I"m really sorry about that." Claudia apologized.
"And the bath water was cold." Do'Ravier grumbled miserably.
Behind the Cathedral to the Eight, there was a walled off section that contained a courtyard as well as a cemetery and a few catacombs. Naturally, while the walled courtyard was generally a peaceful place, the rows upon rows of headstones only served as repeated reminders of the last destination that all go to. Some time ago, the cathedral staff decided it was only natural then to erect a statue of Arkay in the center of the courtyard, Arkay being the Divine of life and death.
Sibylla found it as the only safe place she could practice sparring with her great ax Head Reaper.
While a level of strength was required to properly and effectively wield any large weapon, strength was not everything. Coordination, speed and even stamina were also very important. The fact that she could comfortably swing and control such a massive blade proved she had strength but it was clear that she could move it with speed as well. Finally, there was the important detail that she could continue swinging the blade long after most others would have tired.
Such mastery over the battleax required many years of training and experience. Sibylla was no fool. She knew that she constantly had to be handling and training with the blade if she expected to maintain her skill, much less strength to handle it. Bringing the blade down before doubling up and carving a deadly arc sideways, Sibylla snickered at the thought of some people thinking women were weak.
She was sure she could fix that misconception quick enough.
She could feel that familiar burn in her muscles. Sweat was starting to gather at her forehead. She had learned to enjoy those things since they reminded her that she was still alive and that she was doing everything she could to invest in making sure she stayed that way. The most foolish mistake any warrior could make was falling out of practice.
The ax sung its grim notes as she parted the air with it until she finally had to allow herself to take a breather. Standing the ax next to her, she took a few breaths, wiping the sweat off her brow. She could also see that her robes were starting to get soaked through. She let out a quick laugh, imagining what a common parishioner might have thought if they stumbled upon her, the sight of a priestess wielding a massive ax.
"Sister, sister please, come quickly!" she heard a voice call.
Looking over at the doorway, Sibylla saw one of the younger acolytes, a young Breton woman, calling for her assistance.
Sibylla suppressed the urge to scowl. What inane things did these helpless initiates get themselves into?
"What is it, acolyte?" Sibylla asked as she marched into the cathedral, ax leaning on her shoulder.
"I-I was going to get some supplies into the market and I took the side exit." the acolyte started, her tense tone telling that she was nervous about something.
"And what pray tell happened?" Sibylla grumbled, her patience starting to wear.
"I found this." the younger woman said, opening the door.
There are the doorstep was a small bundle of cloth quietly shifting. Sibylla was about to bend down to confirm her suspicions when a small cry came from the cloth. There was no doubt about it, there was a baby left at the foot of the door. Both the acolyte and Sibylla were momentarily stunned as the child's cry grew louder.
It took a moment for Sibylla to realize that the onlookers were just as flabbergasted too, seeing a baby crying at the foot of the church door with a priestess holding a massive glass battle ax right over it.
"Hold this." Sibylla ordered, handing the acolyte Head Reaper before bending down to pick up the child.
Sibylla quickly hurried the babe inside while the acolyte let out a cry and fell outside under the weight of the large weapon.
"For the love of Akatosh, what do they feed your Breton women these days? It's just Glass, not Ebony for gods sakes'!" Sibylla scolded.
Bann-Je noticed a flurry of activity going on near the kitchen larders. Several weeks ago the kitchen masters found their stock of supplies completely re-organized. It was jarring to say the least but they figured out that the cathedral's obsessive compulsive Argonian had somehow wandered down there and reorganized everything to his liking. The chefs had nothing against the new system and decided to keep it that way.
Bann-Je never did it intentionally. He just found something that so bothered his sense of order that it had to be fixed. He understood the kitchens were not his domain so whatever changes he made there he could not enforce, much less complain if no one followed them. Still, something was inexplicably drawing him closer. Perhaps he could change everything back if someone made a mess or something.
"What is going on?" Bann-Je asked one of the hurried kitchen workers.
"We have a new addition to the cathedral for the moment. We're trying to get whatever food supplies for him we can." the workers blathered.
"Why? What's so important about this one person?" Bann-Je inquired.
"We don't know his exact age yet or what he's eating." the worker explained.
"Why don't you just ask him?" Bann-Je pointed out.
"He's an infant!"
Far from the hustle and bustle going on in the cathedral, Do'Ravier was in the Wayrest library synthesizing the research he left a day before. The librarians noticed a marked difference, though. The Khajiit was far from energetically pouncing from book to book, shelf to shelf. His pace was practically a mindless crawl.
Other than that, nothing had changed about the cathedral researcher. Even the line of people asking for him did not go away.
Do'Ravier was quietly scribbling his chalk notes into a more formal ink report. The side of his chin still rested on his fist as he stared blankly at the report. Though his ears were slanted downwards he was able to pick up footsteps rapidly approaching his destination. The Khajiit grumbled as he searched his mind for what he could have possibly done to upset someone now. He also did not know of any other experiments he might have done that ran the risk of exploding. Granted, he usually found out about their explosive capacity after the explosion.
The door burst open to reveal Sylva.
"I need to know one thing from you and you better be honest with me." the Redguard woman snapped.
Now that they were not in a fight for survival and the daylight was on her, Do'Ravier could see that she had almond skin with matching eyes while she let her dark hair hang freely loose. She had a new robe on but most striking were the three angry pink streaks across her face. Having dabbled in healing, Do'Ravier knew that they were healing nicely but he was still certain that the scars they would leave would never go away.
"This one is listening." Do'Ravier replied, laying down his quill pen and clasping his paws together.
"One, drop the act. I know I heard you use 'I' the other day." Sylva ordered, taking the seat across from him.
"Very well. Continue." Do'Ravier assented.
"Not everyone appreciates Dwemer ruins like most scholars, but those that do know their value. You know their value. Therefore, you would also know that they're worth killing for." Sylva said above a whisper.
The silence in the room was deafening.
"Forgive me if I sound angry, but I believe I came in there to help you out where you three could not find a way past the entrance. When I found the answer and all of us got put in danger, I did my best to keep you all alive. Yes, I made a mistake on the last leg of the journey. I should have seen that trigger stone that I am indeed the one that stepped on that trap which forever marked your face. Maybe I could have done a better job trying to save your friends too. But do not dare accuse me of trying to kill you." Do'Ravier growled.
There was another moment of silence before, much to Do'Ravier's surprise and dismay, Sylva started to tear up while her voice broke.
"I'm-I'm sorry, I...I just had to make sure. I-I know it was irrational but-but I had to make sure. It's-It's just that, Louis, Geoffrey, all three of us studied at the academy. We-we were all f-friends for so long."
The Khajiit waited patiently for the woman the regain her composure.
"I-t-thank you. That's all I needed. How did you get a steaming mug of tea in here?" Sylva asked, pointing at the warm cup next to the Khajiit.
Do'Ravier blinked, awfully thrown off by the sudden change in questions.
"I'm sorry, I was always a little easily distracted." Sylva apologized.
"You are...very interesting." Do'Ravier sighed.
"Thank you, that's odds to say in light of the circumstances and the scars on my face. How did you get that mug in here? They're not allowed in the library and there's not a stove in here to warm it up." Sylva blathered.
"Destruction spells have their less destructive uses." Do'Ravier smirked, lighting up a ball of fire in his paw before putting it out again.
And without a word, he got back to work.
"Such a beautiful baby boy, I can't believe anyone would just leave him on our doorsteps." Claudia cooed, watching the child from his crib.
For now, the cathedral staff decided that the best thing to do was to keep the child. If no one gave them any information on tracking down the child's family or nearest kin, the temple would have to raise him themselves.
"We have no clue what circumstances the mother was in. Perhaps they thought this was the best decision." Sibylla shrugged, watching Claudia fawn over the baby.
"I know, I know, I can't help myself." Claudia admitted sheepishly.
"Claudia, you spend all your time working, managing and leading and as soon as a baby drops in you become all motherly. Perhaps you need to consider settling down." Sibylla smirked.
"I do love children but I don't think finding a husband and having a family is not quite for me yet, thank you." Claudia replied.
"Don't wait too long, Claudia. Not everything can fit into your nice, neat timetables." Sibylla warned.
"Yes, yes. Speaking of timetables, the archon wants us to meet him this afternoon." Claudia announced, suddenly becoming all buisness.
"Archon? Meet?" Bann-Je's reptillian voice chimed in.
The Argonian rounded the doorway and stepped in. Immediately, he did his usual ritual of passing through in and out of it three times before once again walking up to join the two women inside.
"Yes. He told me he could not get into the specifics and that secrecy was of the importance. Otherwise, I don't know anything more. Also, could someone get that Khajiit down here when the time comes? Some fresh air might do him some good." Claudia said.
When surrounded by those with masks unseen
When among those who make a world of dreams
Watch for the one whose face is revealed
Remember him well, for he shall bring you to the death fields
The story begins, the chapter starts
The journey partake with strong heart
The Divines guide you, for here the darkness enfolds you
"You okay there, Claudia? You're just standing there." Sibylla said, an eyebrow raised over a smirk.
Claudia blinked, realizing that she had stepped towards the door and then a vision had taken hold of her. She saw the face of Azura again but...was that another face?
"On second thought, I'll go get the Khajiit." Claudia announced.
"You never answered my question, you know." Claudia said, looking up at Do'Ravier.
The mage had been given his own personal shelf by the librarians. They were becoming rather irritated with the stack of books piling around on the floor and left open on his desk. A compromise was made and a whole shelf was wheeled in for him to keep books on for quick reference. That also meant he needed his own ladder to reach some of the shelves, the very ladder he was on at the very highest rung.
"Which question?" Do'Ravier asked, eyes studying a book.
"Why you change your accent and dialect with some people. Sometimes you sound like a Khajiit fresh out of Elsweyr. Other times you speak just as good as someone born and raised in Cyrodil." Claudia replied.
Do'Ravier chuckled before replying in a very heavy Khajiiti accent.
"You men and elves all have your claims to taking all of the land and building empires. You are all very proud. Khajiit are proud too, but Khajiit do not have numbers or hunger for empires like men and elves do. Some are very proud and think themselves better than most others. This one has seen many treat Khajiit like little cubs who do not know their left paw from their right."
Claudia felt a ball of ice form in her stomach. Prejudice was alive and well in Tamriel and Do'Ravier had a fair accusation. Khajiits and Argonians got the worst of it. At one point, both were being imported in large numbers to Morrowind as slaves and treated like criminals.
"This one simply wishes to know a person more honestly. If someone treats a sneaky, uneducated Khajiit poorly, then that person is merely a liar if they treat others with respect just because they wear better clothes or sound smarter." Do'Ravier shrugged.
"So you let yourself look more like a bad stereotype just to see if someone is a decent human being?" Claudia asked, arms folded in front of her.
"That is a fair accusation." Do'Ravier replied, his accent less pronounced now.
"Isn't that rather deceptive of you? A little less than honest?" Claudia chided with a smile.
"This one never claims to be a complete saint." Do'Ravier shrugged, returning the grin.
"Right, so remember, we have a meeting in an hour. Don't keep us waiting." Claudia reminded.
"I won't." Do'Ravier assured, looking at his book again.
"Hey, a little off topic, but what do you know of Azura?" Claudia blurted, a little surprised that she just let the question slip herself.
"Azura, the Daedra? Ah, she is considered one of the few benevolent Daedra. Daedra work in ways we do not completely understand. Some say she was instrumental in the Neraverine defeating Dagoth Ur. I've never heard of a bad cult from her." the mage shrugged.
"So, she's a good Daedra? We don't necessary hunt Azura cults then?" Claudia inquired.
"I said she was benevolent which can be quite different from good. A harlot on the streets is benevolent to her customers but the diseases they risk getting is far from good." Do'Ravier cautioned.
"So what's the Vigilant of Stendarr's policy on them?" Claudia demanded.
"I don't know, you're the team leader. I thought you would know." Do'Ravier retorted.
"Never had an assignment against them, and I was wondering why." Claudia lied, silently grateful for the convenient cover up.
"I suppose its more important to get the nasty Daedra worshippers like those who follow Molag Bal or Mehrunes than benign ones like Azura." the Khajiit opined.
The archon's office was closed and Sibylla knew better than to barge in uninvited without Claudia. She had arrived early. Any reason to not get swamped by people with inane questions or having to watch over the new babe was good enough for her. She would readily admit it, unless it had something to do with hitting anything with her ax really hard, she did not feel comfortable about it.
She heard people talking through the door but she did not feel like being rude and trying to eavesdrop. Hearing the voices getting closer, Sibylla assumed that their meeting was almost over and that she and the others would be allowed to come in. She did wonder where the rest of the team was. Was she that early because the others were usually better than her when it came time to being punctual.
The door opened and Sibylla locked eyes with the person leaving the room. Her heart jumped into her throat as she forced herself not to lash out at who she saw. She was not expecting to see something she so loathed being so close unexpectedly.
It was a Thalmor.