I'm slow. Thank you all for your patience. And especially, thanks for the reviews \o/
Cato
Cato's eyes fluttered open as he woke up. His body remained still for a while in the darkness of his bedroom. He rubbed his face, willing away the fatigue and dressed before he went about his morning routine, settling eventually with a steaming cup of tea on the steps leading to his front door. He watched the sun rise, knowing full well that it would be a few hours until the city was up and about. All his nights had been like this lately. There were only a few hours of darkness each night, and he always woke before dawn.
"Strange dream," he whispered into his cup, taking one last sip before he just sat back, staring at the sky and going over everything in his head. He rarely remembered a dream, but he wasn't one so prone to superstition as to believe that remembering one held a greater meaning. Still, he sighed, today was like to keep him in a melancholy mood until he had something with which to occupy himself. It was in these rare moments of complete peace that he doubted his course of action. Everything was already underway; he was committed whether for right or wrong, so his hesitation was unproductive at best. The peace conference was a few hours away still, taking place in broad daylight so as not to favor the races that could see in the dark.
He decided to go out for a walk through town, as much to clear his mind as to pretend that taking stock of the movements of people during these morning hours was a productive use of time. Vali was sitting conspicuously on a rooftop, and Cato spared a thought for Azazel and his ineptitude at finding the boy. He smiled at the thought, briefly considering buying some crepes from a stand that was just setting up and sharing it with the young devil. He decided against it, choosing instead to munch on one himself. Poor company was wont to ruin the taste of even the finest cuisine.
By the time he stood in his basement, looking over his equipment, all sense of unease was gone. Though the final decisions had been made only days before, the preparation for the peace conference were months in the making. Cato was ready. His mind's eye had played over the countless possibilities for things to go wrong. The devils might be too weak and buckle under the onslaught of the Khaos Brigade. The Church might object to him to such an extent that they abandoned the flimsy alliance. Or Issei might die to Vali and prevent a resurrection. The latter was the most annoying because there was nothing Cato could do about it. He was sure Vali would fight Issei, just as he was sure that Issei would die from the encounter. He maximized the chance of success in every other factor by manipulating the devils. They would be there in great numbers, their attention would be focused on defending the devils that attended the school, and they would support his claim to be their peer in negotiations going forward.
All of the pieces were in motion. All that was left was to micromanage them to ensure the best possible result. There was practically no chance he would get to attend the negotiations. Once the fighting got started proper, he would attempt to resurrect Ddraig. There was no guarantee it would work even now. He had never tried to resurrect a dragon before and from the snippets that Azazel told him about sacred gears, it might be too complicated for him to do in the end.
But it was his chance to defy a prophecy of the Elder Scrolls. It was worth sacrificing a great deal to achieve. It was worth sacrificing almost everything to achieve. The vision from the Elder Scrolls took place in Kuoh. He could recognize everything. Now that he knew more of the actors involved, he even understood implications within the prophecy that were lost on him when he was still on Nirn. But aside from being at Kuoh, nothing else fit the mold at the peace conference.
That was rather the point, in fact. He had set things up the way they were for a chance at beating the destiny foretold in the Elder Scrolls, not to make it a self-fulfilling prophecy. If he failed here, he hadn't failed his destiny. Under other circumstances, it was an impossible to lose situation – the worst possible outcome was that he just had to keep waiting. But that wasn't true. Not anymore. Too much had happened in this city that had changed his outlook on the world. At first, he had been stunned into inaction by the technology, the architecture, the wealth. Then, the art and the music. It was enough to spend thousands of years exploring, yet the people, as if to spite the hardships of unfortunates, were unhappy in the face of it all.
For a while, it disgusted him. Even the ones who came to him for help ended up treating him as little more than another convenience of life, an appliance that offered a solution to a problem that often never bothered them to begin with. He had resolved himself not to care about anything save achieving his goal. There was no price too great to pay for his own, selfish desire. Now, he wasn't so sure anymore. Azazel, Akeno, even the man at the ramen shop who exasperatedly told him that it was a no-contact restaurant every time he went there. They had all become people to him in the end. Cato shook his head, once more willing indecision away. He resisted the urge to look in the Elder Scroll again. There was no purpose to looking in it; it served only to remind him that he was ultimately a slave to destiny.
Instead, he donned his armor and jewelry. He had observed that the Church and devils wore casual clothing to battle instead of armor. He hadn't come up with a good explanation for the fact even now – any notion that their craftsmanship was of too low quality was moot when one considered the power of their technology. It was more likely that some event in the past had changed their outlook on armor as a concept, but there was no definitive answer to the mystery. Cato chose to wear tightfitting armor that he could cover with clothes so as not to stand out too much.
He strapped his lance to his back along with his shield and Harpe, the sword he took from Perseus. He opted not to bring a bow despite its use when engaging a dragon. He wore a dark grey sash around his waist that concealed a few potions and a number of smaller weapons, each with enchantments and poisons to deal with certain conditions. Using magic was out of the question seeing as Azazel had expressly warned them against doing so because of his 'incredible new weapon'. Cato strapped three dragon priest masks to his right hip over the sash. Their enchantments only worked when wearing them on his face, but depending on the situation, a certain one might make the difference between a dead enemy or a dead Cato, however incomprehensible the latter might be.
Rolling his shoulders once, then twice, Cato let out a few deep breaths as he gathered his focus.
It was time to leave.
The battlefield was strewn with the dead and their belongings. Cato sat on a stone in front of one such body, musing that none of their still faces looked particularly happy or fulfilled in the manner that the recruiters in the big cities postulated. Fight for your country; fight for your freedom; fight for meaning?
As if to cement the grave atmosphere, a dragon was crossing the battlefield, its massive wingbeats like a funeral march for the unburied dead. There was no meaning in this. They were the only two alive here now that both the Empire and the Stormcloaks had fled. Perhaps some unlucky sod was still bleeding out somewhere, but there was no point dwelling on such horrors.
"Do you regret not taking part?"
Cato huffed at her question. "What, to add more to the pile?"
Though she stood behind him, he could tell she was shaking her head. "Maybe you could've made a difference, I mean."
"Of course I could've made a difference," he said, his voice flat, without any heat despite his words. "I would've made all the difference, and yet, nothing would truly have changed."
She didn't respond. He didn't blame her. Even to a vampire like her, the sight of an abandoned battlefield was unsightly. No matter their race or mutation, people were always so similar underneath it all. A sadness had settled itself within him at the sight of it, but he felt no regret as Serana had implied he should. How could he regret something in which he took no part? And yet, the prophecy of the civil war was a prophecy that spoke of him, too. It had weighed heavily on his mind in the months prior. His eyes followed the dragon as it turned to fly towards them. It weighed heavily still.
"When I was younger," he began, unsure why he was speaking at all, "I used to believe that having enough power would let me live however I wanted."
Serana sat down next to him. "But it doesn't?"
"There's a prophecy in the Elder Scrolls," he said, noting that she tensed up beside him, "that seems to be giving me some trouble. 'When kin bear down their swords upon one another, the dragons return, and only the dragonborn can stop the end of everything.' Something like that."
Serana said nothing.
"I used to care very little for the contents of 'everything'. Fighting for it would cost me my freedom, and freedom is all I've ever had."
He had expected a reaction at this point, but she stayed silent.
"There are two things I've learnt since then," Cato shook his head with a smile. "The first is that I do have something to lose. I have you."
She had the audacity to appear entirely unphased by his line. Maybe it worked better in his head after all. "And the second?" she said impatiently. Cato's smile dropped.
"I never had any freedom to begin with."
The screech of the dragon accentuated his words, and Cato stood up to face it.
There was a certain irony in once more bearing witness to a battle of ideologies that would leave no winner, all of it simply part of a process to bring about a battle of the end times. This time, he had taken an active role that might provide the battle with some greater meaning. Not that the dead would care. Nor the fanatics, maddened by their endless fight for the incomprehensible. Nor the veterans, too steeped in bloodshed and misery to give any thought to meaning. In Kuoh, not even those left behind were allowed to care. This place is sick.
Cato watched from his position on top of the academy building as the Khaos Brigade descended upon the academy. Their movements were measured, showing signs of planning that Cato had not expected from an army of such variety. Every section of the battle was designed to be matched evenly, to cause the most possible stir, the most possible mayhem. Not even a minute had passed from the start of the attack until the main building was destroyed in a flashy blast, forcing Cato to take to the ground and cementing the chaos that was erupting all around. This was nothing like a battle of old where armies engaged one another in measured skirmishes, and where breaking rank would spell the doom of an army. It was just an all-out brawl wherever you turned.
He fingers traced the gemstone dagger underneath his sash. Issei and the rest of the children were with the devil powerhouses, not yet engaged in any fighting. He opted to wait with any attack until the boy was already occupied. The best time would be once Vali inevitably engaged Issei. Until then, the protective scrutiny of the devil entourage would be too much to safely approach, but once the two fought, getting a single hit in should prove easy. He moved his finger to trace another dagger instead, one made for killing. Life-drain enchantment with a highly potent poison.
The Khaos Brigade were getting slowly pushed back on the ground where the mages were fighting the Church. Cato considered helping them out a little to make it closer but decided against it. Extending the battle here would only matter if it took him too long to clear the conditions for victory. Instead, he went toward the hero faction and their attack on the devils. The battle here was much less bloody and much more intense. The hero faction was too powerful. He could feel the power from some of their strikes as he skirted the area, looking for a way to covertly make a difference. He drew his dagger, locking his eyes on one of the heroes that had masqueraded as a student, Arthur, and stalked towards the man. A voice calling out from behind him stopped him in his tracks.
"You!"
Cato turned towards the voice. It belonged to a tall man with a fierce glare. Light blue eyes, unarmed, and, to Cato's surprise, lightly armored.
"You!" the man said again, his voice dripping with a venom matched by his now hateful glare. Cato recognized the man as Heracles, a member of the hero faction who'd made no attempt to disguise himself in the city. Huffing a few breaths, Heracles lifted a shaky hand towards him as he continued, "that sword does not belong to you."
Cato frowned.
"The devil spoke true. You killed Perseus. You killed my friend."
Understanding dawned on Cato as his hand went to hold the hilt of his sickle sword. He hadn't considered the implication of bringing such a recognizable weapon into battle. It was a blunder, but one that might not cost him anything. A full-on fight might take too long. Cato glanced towards the small clearing where Issei stood, hoping that the boy had yet to engage anyone. He felt a moment's relief on seeing that Issei was only offering token help against a few of the heroes that had made it as far, but he was pulled out of that consideration when he was forced to defend himself.
Heracles had taken his distraction as a cue to attack, pummeling Cato with all his strength. Cato managed to get his guard up in time, taking the hit on his forearms. When the world pushes, you push back. The force of impact flattened out. Cato didn't budge an inch. Heracles jumped back after his failed attack, his rage replaced by a more calculating look. Cato looked to the dagger in his hand, considering for a moment before putting it back in its place beneath his sash.
"I am Cato," he said, drawing Harpe but leaving his shield fastened to his back, keeping his left hand free. Heracles looked confused. "Your friend, Perseus, attacked me, mistaking me for someone else, and I was forced to kill him. But he at least introduced himself before the misunderstanding."
Heracles straightened at that, a more tempered anger settling in his eyes than his earlier blind rage. "Heracles. And you brazenly admit to killing my friend. I haven't mistaken you for anyone. Prepare yourself."
Cato had only a moment before Heracles was on him again, bearing down with a barrage of blows that left him little room to fight back. Using magic was out of the question given Azazel's warning. A shout would make things easy but would attract too much attention. Keeping his thu'um as a trump card was also valuable enough to be a consideration on its own. Heracles jumped back when Cato finally managed to swing a hook with his free hand. Cato flourished his weapon. As long as he didn't allow Heracles to get the jump on him again, he could keep the man useless at a distance.
Heracles attacked him head on once again, seeing no reason to change strategy, or perhaps finding no other purchase. Cato swung his sword lazily at the approaching man, forcing a dodge. He let the weight of the sword give him pivotal momentum and instead put the force of his body into a wide kick, sending Heracles stumbling sideways.
Without the reach of a weapon, Heracles stood no chance. Perhaps he was used to his height and reach being enough to overcome the advantage of armed enemies, or perhaps he was just too confident in his ability to overpower his opponent no matter what. This time, Heracles stayed back, waiting rather than striking first.
Cato took a step forward, and Heracles responded by taking one back.
Cato broke into a sprint, focusing his entire being on giving the hero no way out of collision. It was impossible for Heracles to match the pace, so he desperately tried to dart out of Cato's path. Cato slashed his sword as Heracles barely made it out of the way of a dead crash, feeling the way that the sword tore through sinew and muscle.
When they recovered, Heracles stood clutching his right elbow. The lower arm hung loosely without any strength.
"Fast." There was no hint of pain in Heracles's voice. "I was a fool for saving this."
In what looked like a burst of flame, Heracles's body lit up, retaining a golden sheen once the light died down. A large conical weapon had appeared on his left hand, and spiked steel bracers adorned his lower arms.
"You draw your weapons now, after losing the use of an arm?" Cato said.
"The gods saw fit to grace me with two."
Cato grimaced. "What a dumb thing to say."
Heracles looked about to respond, but Cato charged straight at him, looking to end it fast.
Cato widened as his sword connected with Heracles's weapon which exploded, sending him staggering back. His eyes immediately trained on the resulting smoke, seeking sight of his target.
"Laas." The shout was nothing but a whisper, not enough to attract unwanted attention. The form of Heracles charging from the side appeared in Cato's mind as he felt the breaths of life from all around him. Cato swapped his sword hand and surged forward, hoping to take Heracles off guard. His eyes stung as Heracles managed to throw something toward him with his supposedly useless right arm before they reached each other. He lashed out, feeling the weight of Heracles's fist as it buried itself in his stomach. His sword tore through armor and flesh and bone. An explosion followed Heracles's punch, and once again, they were embraced by smoke.
Barely a heartbeat passed before they collided head-on with their combined strengths. Cato staggered backwards, reeling from the impact. The faint outline of a kneeling Heracles was there in his mind's eye when he recovered from the blow. Cato walked over slowly, feeling vision return to his stinging eyes. Heracles neither saw nor heard him coming through the smoke. It's over. Cato slammed his boot into the hero's face, feeling the satisfying crunch of a nose breaking. Heracles lurched through the air before landing with a thump, still.
Cato paused. Killing Perseus was what led to this distraction happening. Perhaps he would be better served by letting the man live to lick his wounds, leaving no vendetta for anyone to take upon themselves. He looked at his bloodied sword. It had to be a fast decision. There was no time to think through the possible outcomes. With a shake of his head, Cato turned, setting off at a jog toward the devils.
He'd been so engaged in the fight with Heracles that he found himself surprised at how the lay of the land had changed. Most of the trees were torn down or gone entirely, small craters and mounds of mud lay scattered across the ground, and the sound of battle had changed from a clamor all around them to a more focused, intense tune that shook the ground beneath his feet.
His eyes caught sight of Issei engaged with Vali. Rather, what he, from the sound of their battle cries, deduced to be them. They were both dressed in strange, mechanical armor colored in accordance to their respective dragons, red and white. The glow from the green eye of the boosted gear was visible even from where Cato stood, but something else caught his attention, and he stopped dead still where he stood.
A huddled form lay in the mud covered with wings of black feathers.
"Wuld!"
More so a reaction than any conscious decision, Cato shouted to reach the fallen. Azazel. His hands reached out to touch the body but hesitated for fear of causing further damage. Azazel still lay bleeding, so some semblance of life was in him. Cato summoned his magicka. His knowledge of restoration magic was not focused on healing others – he was not a priest or some benevolent healer. But what he lacked in skill or technique, he made up for with an inextinguishable pool of potent magicka. A golden light formed around his hands, and he focused all of magic around the concept of life. Live, friend. There was the faint sound of a crystal shattering.
Cato stumbled back. A powerful skull-splitting pain sent him reeling. The world spun and all semblance of orientation was lost. He couldn't even hear or feel if he was screaming out in pain, or if he was standing or had fallen into the bloody mud.
When he came to again, he was hunched over with one arm on the ground for balance. He suppressed all thought and rushed back to Azazel's body, a sinking feeling threatening to overtake him.
"Still alive," he breathed as he confirmed the fact.
Cato reached beneath his sash and produced a large phial of red liquid. His only healing potion. Using it here was a risk, especially now that he couldn't rely on his restoration magic to take care of any ailments. He spent no time considering all of this as he uncorked it and poured most of it over the gaping wound in Azazel's stomach, then the rest of it directly into the fallens mouth. Cato swallowed hard to get rid of the acid and bile that had risen to his mouth in his earlier fit of nausea. There was nothing more he could do.
He stood straight for only a moment before he realized the urgency of the situation. The sound of battle reached him again as though they had been blocked out. He ran in the loudest direction, quickly catching sight of Issei and Vali in their odd newfound armor. Cato's heartbeat echoed in his ears as he focused, drowning out all the sounds and chaos. He reached for the gemstone dagger. Issei dropped to one knee as Vali stood, gloating, laughing. The boy breathed heavily, close to death's door.
In a mad sprint, Cato barely noticed that the eye of the boosted gear was glowing red, not green, before he made a final leap, reaching out to make contact with the gear before it was too late. A piercing sound like rock grinding against rock drowned out every other sound, and an eruption of light enveloped the world in white.
I have two important questions to all of you:
First, it was made apparent to me by a guest reviewer that the story doesn't quite have enough Cato in it, despite Cato being the main attraction. Basically: do you, dear reader, want to read more Cato backstory in dedicated segments, i.e. a periodic chapter or half-chapter dedicated to tell backstory elements in a flashback kind of format? This is possible for me to do within the rules of the story, so it shouldn't break immersion. All I want to know is, is this something that you, readers, want?
To clarify, the reason that there's been so much non-Cato in the story is because my focus has been on telling a story rather than just exploring the OC dragonborn. The next few chapters are set in stone, being the chapters I've been looking forward to writing the most since the very conception of the story idea, and what follows will naturally involve more Cato. But, upon reflecting upon the guest review, I realized that I agree with the criticism.
Secondly, when writing flashback-esque scenes, would you rather I write them italicized as I have thus far, or would you rather I write them normally but with clear headings to indicate their non-chronological nature?
Big thanks to all of you who favorited, followed, or reviewed this story. It really does mean a lot to me that you've taken an interest in my story.
Finally, I hope you've all had a wonderful Christmas, and I wish you all the best in this New Year.
New year's resolution? Write more? Well, I'll try at any rate.
Short bonus scene: Elder Scrolls (canon (not exactly comedy (what?)))
"If you keep carrying around Elder Scrolls like this, you might turn into my father."
Serana didn't sound particularly worried at the prospect, though he knew she felt a sense of trepidation towards them after everything that had happened.
"Not literally, of course."
He smiled. Perhaps if he'd agreed to become a vampire lord as he was once offered, it would've been more literal. "Well, where am I supposed to put them?"
She sighed loudly. "Leave them at your home."
"You realize," he started slowly, "the Dwemer built entire fortresses with traps and locks the likes of which were thought myths before we explored them and confirmed their existence just to protect the Elder Scrolls and keep them hidden?"
"It's not like anyone has ever stolen anything from you. Who would dare?"
"Better safe than-"
"Please."
Cato looked to the scrolls strapped onto his back, then back to Serana. The pained look on her face made his decision for him.
"I understand."
