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Chapter 6:

Impressions of the People

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The evening of Khepri's arrival in Dawnstar

Hold Guardsman Bori

The first of Sun's Dawn was a pleasant, quiet day for Bori. Only one drunken fight to break up, Helga's grandson's busted leg was mended easily by that Priest of Mara – may have been a Dunmer, but the Elf was a kind and decent sort, and Bori wasn't one to judge a person by their skin – and the seas were quiet, the air warm. Spring was coming, and so was Heart's Day.

Walking his beat past the home of that 'antique collector' – the Vigilants cleared him, but Bori was still suspicious – the twenty-two summers old guardsman hummed a tune to himself, thinking of those boxes of chocolates behind the counter over at the trading post. His missus, Sillte, had been dropping hints since winter began, whenever little Henrik was busy playing with the other children, and Bori himself wanted to treat his beautiful red-maned lass to something special.

'But two damn Septims, for ten pieces of chocolate,' Bori wasn't an ice-brain by any stretch; oh, he was no scholar, but neither was he stupid. Couldn't run a household if you didn't know your numbers. The chocolates came from Cyrodiil, a special order to all the Holds from the High King, a gift to those who could afford the things. And only four boxes were left, from the ten that originally came in. He was lucky the boxes were only two Septims and not five, like they'd be if Bori and his family lived on Solstheim.

Approaching the crags near the Dawnstar Bay's eastward edge, Bori ran a couple numbers in his head; the roof needed new shingles, after that blizzard two weeks ago, and the pantry needed restocking too. With the warmth coming out of the west, however, and the scent of spring beneath the snap of pine and salt, young Bori had a feeling that the coming month might not be as fraught as the previous year.

Figuring he could chance a look at the setting sun – and make sure no bandits were lurking on the beach – Bori made for the crags, signaling at Grimvar and Mette to let them know where he was off to. He kept his body loose and ready, and made sure to give the crags themselves a wide berth; no sense getting shot and spending the night at the chapel, or worse, making Sillte cry with worry.

And then, right as the fiery skies and gleaming glaciers came into view, a person in a grizzly cloak stepped confidently around the lip of the crag.

On instinct, Bori drew his bow and examined the… woman?

She was tall, almost as tall as he was, and her long black curls waved in the light wind; she had a wide mouth, and fair features, though it seemed she hadn't slept in some time. But her eyes… they were the eyes of someone who'd beheld horrors and battles and came out victorious, alive, but scarred. The veterans of the Great War who lived in town held those eyes.

With Magnus setting behind her, Secunda rising over the ridge, she looked like a heroine returned from a forgotten war. Bori couldn't tell what race she was – she wasn't Nord, and was tall as a goldskin, but her hair said Imperial to his sight – but she didn't seem threatening as she flicked her sad eyes over him, taking Bori's measure as much as he did her.

And then a bloody damned Chaurus Hunter leapt into view! It clawed at the beach and hissed at Bori, and then he saw more Chaurus behind the lass.

"Talos damn it," he hissed through clenched teeth, drawing an arrow; hopefully, Grimvar and Mette would get their drunk asses over and help him out before he got eaten or sprayed.

The woman's eyes suddenly hardened into steel… and she looked to the Hunter, barking with a clearly foreign accent, "You get your buggy butt back in line, young lady!" The Chaurus… wilted before the lady's chiding, looking between Bori and the cloaked woman while chittering; the woman's lips pursed and she shook her head, continuing in a clipped tone, "No, he's not going to hurt me, because we're not here to hurt him. Bentley."

Another Chaurus Hunter, this one bigger than the smaller one, leapt next to its chastened, sulking sister. The woman gave the bulky hunter a satisfied nod and commended, "Good boy."

Meanwhile, Bori wondered just who the hells this woman was, to have tamed the Chaurus.

She looked back at him, looking so tired, but determined; she raised her arms, revealing a well-made tunic and a strange sword – one of her arms was gone at the elbow.

"Good evening, sir," she began solemnly, but clearly, "I'm sorry about them, they're very protective of me. My name is Khepri. I bring news from the lighthouse up the coast, where I defeated a little over a dozen Falmer and liberated these Chaurus from their clutches. They are mine."

Bori's mind whirled. The lighthouse? Falmer?! The Redguard patriarch who lived that way was just in town! And were those bodies on her sled? Shor, what a mess. And the way she said that – the Chaurus were hers – the way the woman, Khepri, looked into his eyes, made her words clear.

I will kill you if you harm them.

Bori didn't know much, but the woman said she wasn't in Dawnstar for a fight; he'd take her at her word, for the moment. But he had to say something to her greeting.

"What in Shor's name happened to your arm, lass?"

As the woman's fraught but noble face went dry with unamusement, Bori winced and thanked the Gods he was wearing a full-face helm. He was never going to hear the end of it from the captain, or his missus, he was sure of it.

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"You expect me to just allow someone who can control Chaurus to live in my Hold?"

"They will harm no one, Jarl Skald. I will answer for any crime they commit, and accept responsibility."

"...Ravdir! Is there really a beehive in the third tree behind the inn? Check!"

"...why would I lie?"

"There is, my Jarl! Right where she said!"

"Hmph. So long as you make yourself useful, and my people aren't harmed, you may stay in Dawnstar. I may be suspicious, given your claims to knowing little of magic, but I see your eyes, and they ain't the eyes of a witch. You a veteran, Miss Khepri?"

"...I am. And I intend to retire. I've had enough war."

"I see that too, in your bearing and voice. Here, five Septims, for dealing with those pesky, godless Falmer. Go stay at the inn, and remember-"

"Thank you, Jarl Skald. I swear I will not be a burden. Thank you."

"Hmph. Off with you, lass, and make sure those Chaurus stay out of sight. Don't want to spook any visitors."

"Of course. You'll only see them where and when they are needed. Good evening."

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"Who's that pretty lady, father?"

"Her? Oh, Khepri, I think. New in town, a veteran who lost her arm, so don't stare."

"Yes, father. But why's she covered in sno - Oh! Father, Chaurus!"

"Now, stay calm girl. Those're Khepri's. She trains them, see? Like dogs…"

Chitter!

"Get back here, Imp! Push me in a snow drift, will you? Take this – oof!"

Father and daughter watched, laughing quietly, as Dawnstar's newest citizen was plastered across the face with a slushball.

Chii-chitter!

"Pfwah! You wouldn't know what a snow-cone was if it wasn't for me, you little troll! I'll get you!"

"Father, what's a snow-cone?"

"Not sure, little one," the father replied, subtly wiping a humored tear from his eye, "I'll let the lass get cleaned up and calm down, 'fore asking…"

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"Sure you want wood? I'd think, a warrior like you, you'd want metal."

"Aye, something sturdy. Those Chaurus must be a handful."

"Ah, maybe later. I want to get used to a prosthetic first, before I take on anything harder to repair, maintain and modify."

"Oh. Smart of you. Wumeek, Cristus' husband, said much the same thing. Legion veterans the both of them."

"The… two men living near the docks?"

"Oh yes," smiled Seren while attaching Khepri's prosthetic, "Cristus saved Wumeek from a Thalmor mage, back in the Great War. Broke half the young ladies' hearts, when they shacked up together."

Khepri glanced at Rustleif, who shrugged and grinned, "Fewer men starin' at my wife, and the Divines bless what's in people's hearts, no matter what's between the legs."

The black-haired woman blushed softly as Seren chided her husband for being crude.

In the alley next to the smithy, Skitter listened and learned as her Queen was given a replacement forelimb. Thinking on something, she told her Queen, [offer].

"It'll take some getting used to," said Seren as Khepri moved her right arm about, getting used to the joints and pulleys that moved her arm as though it were natural, "and you'll have to come in for an adjustment now and again… what is it?" Khepri had stiffened, and was staring off into space.

"Hm," she blinked and looked as Seren, then smiled apologetically, "Oh, I'm sorry. One of my Chaurus offered their chitin for my prosthetic. I was just explaining that that wasn't viable at the moment. I don't want to hurt them… though one of them is about to change into a Hunter."

"Well," Rustleif clapped with a smile, dismissing how odd it was that the slip of a woman could talk to the Chaurus, "if you end up with any chitin, bring it on by. Never got to work with the stuff, but I've wanted to."

Khepri nodded, then stood while looking at her arm, "Thank you, both of you. I'll go see what I can do with it, if that's okay?"

Not an hour later, Rustleif was hammering the planks of one of the apiaries together – four were planned – when Khepri returned. Her smile was absent, "I think it needs more padding, Rustleif."

"Ah, got sore right quick eh?" he tossed his hammer aside with a smile and gestured for her to take a seat on a nearby stump, "Let me just take that off and put a little more… velvet, I think. We've got a bolt somewhere."

Seren called over from the grindstone, "I could've sworn I put a good bit of leather on that. What were you doing?"

"Just some light training, with the guards," shrugged Khepri while Rustleif worked a buckle; over in the alley, a chitter and buzz sounded, which made the black-haired woman wince, "I may have overdone it a little."

"Pain?" asked the Nord smith, receiving a negative sound and headshake, which made him smile, "Well, let's just get this off – SHOR, WOMAN! HOW ARE YOU NOT SCREAMING?!"

"Oh. That doesn't look good."

Seren dashed over, took one look at Khepri's badly bruised and swollen stump, and snapped, "Chapel. Erandur. Now."

"But it doesn't really hurt, can't I just drink a potion-"

"You. Temple. Now."

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"While I am grateful for your assistance, Miss Khepri, both at the iron mine and around the town, why were you in the snowberry fields?"

"Oh, forgive me, my Jarl. As I've told you, I can sense all the insects in town. There were butterfly and moth pupa in the leaves, under the snow. Seeing as these insects also aid in the production of honey-"

"I am not stupid, girl! Bees make honey!"

"And butterflies help flowers grow, so bees can make more honey."

"Prove it."

"Very well. With your permission, I will have my Chaurus clear the snow from the edge of your town to the junction. There are many flowers there, and the air is nearly warm enough for the butterflies to emerge from sleep. Between myself and the children, we rescued ninety-seven butterflies. In less than two weeks, my Jarl, your southern fields will be the envy of Skyrim."

"…I'll believe it when I see it, woman. All the same, take care; there's a spriggan in that ruin off to the west, and I'm looking forward to the honey you've promised my people. Away with you… Now, Bori. You roused the guards when the Chaurus ran out to deal with that slime, Balthi."

"Yes, my Jarl."

"Why?"

"Because, my Jarl, in spite of her… abilities, Miss Khepri is a vigilant sort who cares for others, and she offered her assistance in defending the town. If her Chaurus get riled up, my Jarl, I take that to mean trouble's afoot."

"And when that fledgling Hunter, oh, Imp was it? What do you do when that one's tromping about?"

"…make sure she's not hiding a pie under someone's porch, my Jarl."

"You jest. I do not."

"Neither do I, sir. Edith left a fresh one on the sill yesterday, got nicked, thought one of the children did it. Then Khepri comes walking over with it, the big one, Skitter, dragging Imp along all hangdog-like."

"…"

"…my Jarl?"

"You kick Balthi in the balls for what he did to Metina and Haema?"

"Kneed the fucker, my Jarl, then made sure the axe was nice and blunt."

"Good. Here, some advance pay. Keep an eye on those Chaurus."

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Thirteen days after Khepri's arrival in Dawnstar

Hold Guardsman Bori

He'd bought the chocolates.

It was the reason Bori couldn't stop smiling to himself as he checked his mace over for nicks – what was left of the Brass Bows were buried near their ruin, as of five days ago – and made sure not to listen too closely as the women of the village did their washing.

Over the past two weeks, there'd not been another bandit raid, and Dawnstar was warmer and quieter than many could easily remember. Oh, there'd been something, where Khepri walked off into the woods and came back with an Elven bow, but all she'd done was smile and say, "I had a stern word with a bad person. They won't come back."

No one'd found any blood or tracks, but rumor had it her Chaurus found a spy or some such. Good riddance.

Bori's smirk grew as he glanced sidelong at the largest Chaurus, which Khepri was taking to keeping nearby due to her irritable nature; the Chaurus Hunter, Skitter, was irritated, that is, though Bori wasn't interested in the reason.

Not Khepri. The woman, now garbed in a plain green-brown dress, was ducking her head and laughing at something Wumeek was teasing her about, much to the male Argonian and other women's humor, it seemed. Likely something about Heart's Day. Not Bori's concern or business, though his son had started blushing whenever the tall woman's name was mentioned at home. The guardsman decided to have a talk with his Henrik, later.

A hand batted his scale helm, courtesy Lafka, one of his sisters-in-arms, "Don't stare, Bori. Think of your wife and son."

He grunted, but kept smirking, "You wouldn't rescue your comrade from the witch's clutches?"

"Ha!" the female guard scoffed, leaning against a tree and folding her muscular arms, "From the ladies of the town, along with Miss Khepri and Wumeek, and Cristus when he joins in? Sorry, Bori, I love my wife too much to commit suicide over your bulky arse."

Bori sighed and shook his head, then looked to the clay pipe that ran into the woods east of the town, muttering, "By Zenithar, can you believe it?"

"Nay," agreed his partner on 'Beekeeper Watch', as the captains called keeping an eye on Khepri and her Chaurus, "To think, Helga and her girls got that whipped up so fast, three days if it were an hour. If I hadn't seen it, I'd say it were magic."

"It's the Chaurus," Bori muttered, noticing Khepri stiffen slightly out the corner of his eye; no trouble yet, but there might be. He kept his body outwardly loose and calm, but tensed inside, "They get Helga the clay, help mold the pipes, then Khepri and Leigelf make sure it gets installed at that hot spring in the Chaurus den," he gestured at the large wooden basin full of steaming water, surrounded by happy working people, children darting about playing and helping dry clothes in the warm midday sun, though they made sure to steer clear of Skitter's lounging form, "Sure, it's odd, but I'm grateful for clean clothes and hot baths."

To say nothing about a box of fine chocolates hidden in his house, which his Sillte would surely appreciate in three days.

"Hmph," Lafka grunted in agreement, but her shoulders tensed and her stance shifted; Khepri was frowning toward the sea, and the other washers were noticing. Off to another side, Cristus stopped sharpening his greataxe and began to stand from his stump, dark brown beard twitching in suspicion.

Bori was already halfway to the basin when Khepri tossed her half-washed tunic over the side and started toward him, Skitter rising from her crouch with an angry buzz, which the children noticed; Bori increased his pace and whispered to Khepri once she was close enough, "What is it?"

She bit her lip and whispered back, "That man, on the north-east edge of the bay, is praying to an idol in his basement."

Silus? The 'antique collector' was an eccentric, but the Vigilants cleared him; Bori shook his head and whispered, "Khepri, most people have a shrine to the Divines in their-"

"None of the Divines have four arms, or require a Daedric heart," stressed Khepri, her eyes full of worry and rage; Skitter was on her claws, and the children were being rounded up. Cristus was getting closer, "I'm feeling a tattered page too. A hidden shrine behind the wardrobe in his basement."

Bori had already turned around at the mention of 'a page'. His mace was in his hand, "Lafka, get the captain and the others," he heard himself say as he stomped toward the Bay, "and send a rider to the Hall of the Vigilants. We've got a problem."

Slipping between houses and signaling his fellows, Bori was soon walking down the shore of the bay. Out the corner of his eye, he saw his house, between the docks and the smithy. The blonde man focused on Silus' house, a cold fire in his belly.

There was stone crunching behind him. It was Cristus. The big Nord was holding a rope in one hand, his greataxe over one shoulder, deep blue eyes burning with an old flame.

"No killin', Cristus. Let Stendarr's chosen deal with the bastard."

"Aye."

"Plus, don't want your husband gettin' all sad over losin' his bear."

A gruff laugh came out of the man, "Aye. Don't want your wife losin' hers. S'why I'm here."

Imp climbed onto the porch as Bori took the steps two at a time, the little one chittering angrily; Bori sent her a smirk, "Good girl," and rapped the door lightly with his mace, "Silus! A quick word, if you please!"

.

"How did you know?"

"Fleas."

"You said you got rid of all the fleas!"

"The bees need to eat, as do the wasps guarding the crossroads, and the worms and other insects I use to till soil-"

"By the Nine, woman. I want you to list every bug you have, and their numbers, and give that list to Banner-Torn by tomorrow morn."

"It won't be accurate, my Jarl. The numbers of lesser bugs are fluctuating all the time."

"Then how many are you controlling right now?"

"…seven hundred and nine bees, my Jarl, are under my direct control, building honeycomb and breeding in preparation of the apiaries. There are six Chaurus Hunters, one Fledgling not yet awoken, and nineteen ground-bound Chaurus of varying size in the woods to the south, as you know. Everything else is automatically set to pollinate the fields to the south or breed for food in secure areas, such as the Chaurus cave. All told, there are roughly two hundred ten thousand insects in Dawnstar, ranging in size from a newborn aphid in the snowberry fields to Skitter."

"…has anyone ever told you how terrifying you are, woman?"

"Yes, my Jarl. On that note, I've spoken with Helga about the honeypots. The first ten pots will be ready by the twentieth, and all four of the apiaries will be completed and populated by then as well."

Jarl Skald sighed; on one hand, he wanted to kick the woman out on her arse. On the other, Keeper Carcette vetted her after dealing with that Imperial rat Silus, and… well, honey.

"Two things, Miss Khepri: one, Cristus makes mead in his spare time. Talk to him about putting down some bottles."

"I've… actually thought about that, my Jarl. The possibilities with Alchemy-"

Skald waved his hand, "So long as it doesn't hurt and Frida gives her approval, you can sell whatever you want in my Hold, but I expect some nice, normal mead for us discerning folk," he gave her the Jarl's eye until she nodded, "Second… it seems a vacancy has opened up in my town, and a house is available for ownership…"

If he couldn't get rid of her without starting a riot, Skald would make sure Khepri remembered her friends, when it came time for her to move on.

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Sillte jumped to her feet when her man came home; she'd been worried sick for her Bori, her love, who'd she'd been with since he saved her from that horker, back when they were teens.

"Bori! What…" she'd been about to ask about the Vigilants being in town, but she saw her man's gear. It was new, and a Housecarl's pin was on his sash. He was smiling, "Bori?"

Her man took her in an embrace and kissed her soundly. He told Sillte what'd happened, and what Khepri found in that oddball Silus' house… and how he'd given the Daedra-worshiping bastard what-for, before making sure no one entered until Keeper Carcette arrived.

The Jarl promoted her man, her brave strong Bori! Dinner that night was warmer and happier than ever, and their Henrik was walking tall when he went to tell the kids playing in the road that his papa was a real knight.

Before giving her man a reward only she could give him, Sillte thanked the Divines for bringing Khepri to their town and brightening their lives.

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Sixteen days after Khepri's arrival in Dawnstar, evening

Mythic Dawn Museum Khepri's home

Erandur, Priest of Mara

With a weary sigh, the Mer who'd once been known as Casimir sat on a comfortable chair, one of many that'd been donated to the home's owner by the Dawnstar townsfolk, "By Mara, four weddings in one day," a cup of tea was slid in front of him, courtesy the wooden hand attached to Khepri, "Bless you, dear."

She laughed softly, but empathically, "It must be hard, seeing all the love in the world, but not being able to partake."

"Par- oh, I keep forgetting, you're not from Tamriel," Erandur chuckled and sipped his tea; it was better with honey, and Khepri had proven her honey was better than anyone else's, with those first pots, "Priests to the Divines take vows of abstinence, not chastity. On holy days like these," he gestured to the red lantern-lit town, laughter and sighs rising as Magnus descended to the horizon, "we are allowed to celebrate with the people."

"Hmm," Khepri stirred her tea and smiled thoughtfully, then let out a slight laugh, "I imagine you have quite a few young women inviting you to parties, no?"

"Less than you'd think," smiled back Erandur modestly, "Nords and Dunmer, well…"

"Oil and water, I believe is an analogy," the Priest of Mara nodded and toasted his teacup in agreement, which Khepri seemed pleased by. But the thread of conversation reminded him…

"Honestly, I could say the same."

"Hmm?"

"You're not exactly wanting in admirers. There's Callidus, the boy you took in as your steward, for example," the young man had suffered a blow to the back in youth, from a troll going by the scars; while hard work was impossible for the young man, no one in Dawnstar was better with numbers, Khepri included.

The woman herself laughed an easy laugh, "Oh, Gods, no! No, some of the girls working the quicksilver mine dragged him off just after noon, and I have to say," she gave Erandur a knowing look, "he's certainly not wanting for company."

"Oh, the poor boy," chuckled Erandur lightly; only pausing when a delighted yelp came from a few doors away, "But there are others who've come to your door today," she ducked her head, making Erandur wonder what was the trouble, "Khepri?"

There was a small smile on her face, "I… well, I am uncomfortable, sharing myself with others. Not the arm," Khepri clarified, looking into his eyes, but still smiling softly, "I think… it's an artifact of my past, to have only one lover at a time."

Erandur nodded understandably, "I feel much the same… and, well," he grinned at the dark-haired master of insects, "The scandal of it, a Priest of Mara taking part in evening celebrations."

"Hmm," hummed Khepri again, her dark green eyes raking up and down his person before she muttered suggestively, "I won't tell if you won't."

Erandur blinked.

Then he finished his tea.

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Nearly an hour later saw him dripping sweat and panting, gripping Khepri's hair for leverage as they collided over and over again.

"Ah-ah-ah-oh-oh-ohh-fuu-aaaahhnnnnnmmm~!"

"Dibella's breath – ohhhh~!"

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She rocked on his hips, but seemed shy to do so, turning her right side away.

Erandur gripped her waist and ground himself into her, making Khepri keen quietly, "You are beautiful."

She kissed him. Neither of them spoke much of importance for another hour or so.

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"And this one?" a pale, lightly-calloused finger traced a white scar on Erandur's right pec, Khepri's head laid on his shoulder as they came down from their most recent session.

"Marauder, near Lake Ilinalta," he replied, running a hand down her back, making her shiver and rub her thighs against his, which brought his heat right back up; the stamina potions Khepri made… well, he wasn't about to complain. Erandur brushed a finger over the scar on her shoulder as she kissed his chest, "And this one?"

"Cross… bow," she hummed, then looked into his eye with a sensual smile, "You are surprisingly good at this, for one who doesn't partake."

He smiled back, stroking the line of her jaw, banishing bitter and distant memories, "We all began as something else."

She hummed against his lips, and they came together one more time.

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Jurgan, the resident Priest of Arkay, was waiting for him at the chapel the next morning, "Erandur, finally! Come in, man, we've got bruises to tend to, haha!"

Erandur laughed good-naturedly back, and silently thanked every God there was that he'd managed to talk Khepri out of a seventh round. Even magic had its limits, after all.

"And where were you? You weren't at the inn when I looked."

"Oh, I was making a couple house calls. You?"

"Ah. Yes, I, ah, had to make a few." was his fellow priest favoring one leg a little too much? Eh, not Erandur's business.

"Right. Let's get on with it then… ah, Callidus! Hope you're not planning to skive off bee duty just because you're sore."