Turdas, the 1st of Morning Star, 4E202
For the first few moments after waking up, Saya stared at the ceiling. It felt quite odd to wake up normally. Not startling awake, not gasping for breath, not falling off the bed, but simply opening her eyes in such calm and quiet that she didn't even realize she was no longer asleep.
Saya lifted her head off the pillow and immediately contemplated cracking it open against the nearest wall. Her temples were positively throbbing and she murmured an incoherent curse, hand searching for a glass of water on the nightstand. Hangovers, the sworn nemesis of any good night she'd ever had. She didn't even drink that much… did she?
She sighed and placed the now-empty glass back down. A quick glance out the window told her it was almost noon. As far as she was concerned, that meant another day off - or at least one to prepare for tomorrow's trip. Though Saya would love nothing more than to laze around for another week, she did have a few too many problems to get back to. Like the end of the world. That one definitely felt rather pressing.
What was even more pressing was her need to go to the bathroom.
With a groan and wobbly legs, Saya stood up from bed and shambled through her room. In her mind, she was already constructing a list of things she had to do by the end of today. She could easily drop the rations for today, seeing as how she wasn't planning on camping for at least another few days. She briefly thought about visiting Annie but immediately remembered how much trouble keeping track of a horse was during long journeys. And feeding it. In the winter. On second thought, perhaps a cart ride was the way to go here…
She was just about to reach for the exit door when she noticed a small object lying on her desk. She rubbed her eyes and picked it up, not recognizing the thing immediately. It was a relatively wide strip of black leather decorated with intricate embroidery. The designs were distinctly floral, thin stems and leaves serving as a backdrop to the beautiful lily flower that was placed front and center. The two ends of the leather strip formed a clasp, crafted from the same silvery metal as the rest of the choker.
She stood there in complete silence, staring at it with a dumbfounded expression until a single coherent thought finally formed:
"...I forgot to give her this."
It took her another long, silent minute to recover from her stupor. Then Saya calmly opened the nearest drawer, placed the choker inside, and walked back to her bed.
Serana didn't question why she woke up to the sound of her friend screaming into a pillow.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! I'm actually going to fucking cry. Goddamnit. I spent days, DAYS on this thing just to make it in time for New Life since I had such a short notice, I got the best possible moment to give her a gift, and… I forget about the damn thing.
I would like the world to end now. Or for me to get spontaneously struck down by lightning. Either or, I have no preference.
Okay, it's been a few hours, I'm done moping. I went out and finished up with all my shopping and maintenance. All in all, I'm not expecting a very long journey tomorrow. I'll pay for a cart ride and we'll jump off at the Karthspire and walk on foot from there. There's a lot of things to get everyone caught up on, and I don't feel like sending off Kura with a novel's worth of letters.
Besides, I'm curious what they're up to. I remember being told we got new members. I don't suppose Angi decided to take up my offer? Would be nice to see her again, and see what else the guar dragged in.
After that, I think I'll head off to Calcelmo. I'm running rather light in the pockets after all the holidays, so Markarth is the lesser evil here. It'll probably be a minute's errant anyway. And from there… Well, I guess I can just take another carriage straight to Riften. Probably going to spend my whole day in the cart but it still beats walking, I have no stops on the way.
What I'm really interested in is an update from Isran. We've got two Elder Scrolls on our hands, what we need now is a Moth Priest to read them, or at least to not read them to the enemy. I certainly haven't been looking, so hopefully the Dawnguard had some luck with the search on their end - assuming they've actually been searching, that is. Isran is definitely the single-minded type if his treatment of Serana is any indication, so I wouldn't be surprised if he's just been killing vampires left and right with not a thought to spare for what they're actually doing.
And then… I guess I'll figure out which end of the world scenario is more pressing to take care of. Hell, might even go dragon hunting just for the kicks. At this point I'm down for any change of pace that doesn't take me underground for another week.
Fredas, the 2nd of Evening Star, 4E202
The wheels of the wagon creaked softly against the stone road. The air was filled with a cool ambience of gentle wind blowing across the landscape - a gentle backdrop for the empty chatter ringing out from Serana's side. She paid it no mind. Rumors and the like were of little interest to her. Her brown eyes were turned toward the distant horizon, jagged and torn by the elder mountains stretching their spines into the few clouds that yet remained in the cerulean sky.
A light bump in the road. Serana shifted, moving the object in her lap to settle down more comfortably. It was a large cylinder wrapped in thick cloth, not unlike a canvas being transported by a traveling painter. A case of white gold that shimmered with magic, and a scroll as white as light itself concealed within - Serana wondered what the carriage driver would think if he knew something like this was in their possession. Or anyone else, for that matter. After all, an Elder Scroll in hand could quite quickly skew one's opinion about a person.
Serana couldn't understand why. In spite of everything that her parents told her, she simply could not comprehend that same sense of grandeur that seeped their speech every time the Elder Scrolls became the topic of conversation. Once, she truly was fascinated with them, a child that absorbed stories like a sponge. But now… she felt a sort of emptiness, and a weight.
Ever since her father brought the Scroll into the castle, it felt as though her entire life was centered around them. That nothing else mattered. She remembered her father's gaze when she returned home for the first time in years, centuries. How she sat there, trembling and faceless, as the Scroll was taken from her and all of a sudden she became but an element of decor. Would he have still welcomed her if she came empty-handed?
Serana swallowed a lump in her throat. That was an unpleasant thought, a question she didn't want to know the answer to. Yet with it came others.
Did her mother hide her away because of the Scroll? Would her father have even looked for her if she didn't have it? Would she have been left there forever? Would anyone come save her? Would she just be cut down by whoever found her the moment they realized what she was? Would anyone… would Saya even trust a vampire like her, if she didn't have something like an Elder Scroll as a bargaining chip? Would she have spared her? Would she have spent so much time with her, helped her, talked to her, treated her as a person?
Was the Scroll the only reason they were still…?
"Something on your mind?" Serana blinked, remembering where she was. Saya was sitting across from her, staring curiously at the confused vampire. How long had she been staring? "Is there something on my face?"
"N-No, it's nothing." The vampire hastily turned her gaze elsewhere. All of a sudden, she found precious little to latch onto upon the landscape around them. "I got a little lost in thought, that is all."
Saya's gaze lingered on her for a few more seconds before she returned to her conversation with the driver. Serana's shoulders immediately sagged with relief and she sighed. The thoughts that she was engrossed in just a moment ago seemed so stupid now that she came back to them. She looked down at the Elder Scroll and moved it aside, shaking her head. It was just a thing, a tool. She was a person. And that's that.
She lifted her eyes, and saw Saya looking to the side. Her lips were stretched into a faint smile, the wind lightly blowing the red hair from her face. Her freckles were even more visible than usual in the bright sun. Slowly, the worry in the back of Serana's mind faded at the sight. She looked… peaceful. She'd seen that side of her a lot more in recent days. She almost felt sorry knowing it wouldn't last forever.
"Hey, Saya?" Serana called out, not really thinking why. Only when Saya hummed and turned to look at her did the vampire realize she didn't actually know what she wanted to ask. Briefly overcome by panic, she sputtered: "Can you… um. C-Can you tell me about your friends? The people we were going to meet?"
"Friends?" The Dragonborn echoed, appearing a bit confused. Serana cocked her head, and Saya waved her off. "Ah- We're just… not exactly friends. Colleagues, yeah. Acquaintances. We're on good terms, but I wouldn't say I'm particularly close to anyone there." She paused, thinking for a moment. "Honestly, I could probably count the people I consider friends here on one hand."
"Oh. I see." Serana piped down. Her lips curled into a slight frown. For a moment, she contemplated asking if she was on that list, but decided against it. "Do you have many friends where you are from?"
Saya rubbed her chin. "You know, good question. I guess I have a couple. I'm really not that sociable, now that I think about it," she said and Serana exhaled sharply, amused by the notion. "What? It's true."
Serana waved her off. "Nothing, nothing. I simply find that rather hard to believe, especially when you say it." She smiled, pushing some hair behind her ear. "You seem to get along with people quite easily. I am a little jealous sometimes."
"Eh. There's a difference between being nice and just not being a cunt. You do it too, y'know?" Serana blinked, surprised. Saya smirked knowingly. "At the festival. There were lots of people there you didn't know, but you were nice to them, and you could hold a conversation just fine. You wouldn't call them friends though, would you?"
Serana's brows furrowed in thought. Is that what it looks like? She didn't see it being any different from her days at the court. She simply acted polite and kept everyone at a reasonable distance… "Ah. I think I see what you mean."
Saya smiled and nodded. "It's easy enough to seem nice if you give people no reason to think otherwise. I'm just more casual with people I meet, helps get them more relaxed and loose-lipped. Though I guess it depends on the situation," she said and leaned back in her seat, putting one leg over the other. Her lips stretched into a cheeky grin as she seemed to have remembered something. "You know, I actually met my best friend back home by being rude."
"Oh?" Serana leaned forward, her eyelashes flapping with curiosity. "How did that work?"
"Well, we were much younger then… though I guess kids and adults aren't much different in that regard. People don't really give a shit if you're mean to someone if they think that person deserves it. Learned that the hard way." There was a faint, dry smile on Saya's face as she spoke those words. Serana felt that she shouldn't pry. "See, most of the kids I knew back in the day were taught at Temple schools. Morrowind didn't have much room for big academies, and you had to be real rich to afford a tutor. My mom used to be a priest so I got in easy, no trouble at all. For other families, it was usually just a small donation once or twice a month."
Serana hummed, letting that thought stew for a moment. To her, the concept of communal schooling seemed completely foreign. How would someone even try to keep such an amount of people organized? Would they be split into groups? How small would a group even need to be for them to listen to the teacher's words? A logistical horror, the lot of it.
"With that system in place, that basically meant we got kids from all kinds of families around. And, well, kids tend to be a lot less accepting than others." Saya's eyes lowered, though the smile never left her lips. There was a note of sadness in her voice, or perhaps a faint bitterness at a memory long in the past. "I was a bit of a brat, y'know. Didn't really get along with anyone."
"Why is that?" Serana asked, her voice quiet and compassionate. Saya chuckled.
"Hmm, let's see… I could give you a sob story, but really it's because I picked fights often. Sometimes over the silliest things, and usually with the same few people. After a while, it was really more about messing with them than making a point." She popped her knuckles demonstratively.
Serana swallowed nervously and asked: "Do you… remember why them, specifically?" The question came in a quiet, innocuous tone. It was almost like Serana was looking for a way to defend Saya's case. Saya was flattered by the effort.
"Well, one of them did give me the wonderful nickname of 'pigskin'. I just felt like returning the favor, y'know?" Serana's frown grew bigger at those words and Saya chuckled sardonically. She felt a little bad for the vampire. "The thing is, though, people talk. They make friends, find like-minded folks that they hang out with. I didn't. I just kept picking more fights, and the other kids kept talking among themselves… after a while, I sorta just became 'the one nobody liked'. And once that happens, anything goes. How you look, the family you're from, the clothes you wear, the damn stars you were born under - if people want to hate you, they'll find a reason eventually."
Serana pursed her lips, her hands locking in her lap without her knowing. Saya smiled slightly at her reaction, as if wordlessly telling her to relax. She couldn't. Saya didn't blame her for that. Even as she turned away, her own thoughts filled with muddled memories mixing with one another. Laughter. Pointed fingers. Pulled hair. Streaming tears. Scratches, bruises, sometimes even burns. Yelling, lots of yelling. Obnoxious little voices, piercing the ears like nails scraping a chalkboard. Sometimes she forgot if she was the one doing it or the one done unto.
"So anyway, there was this kid called Relyn. Scrawny lad, came from a poor family. Ashlanders-turned-farmers or something along those lines. Point is, he knew how to work with his hands but not much else. He had this heavy accent when he spoke Tamrielic, couldn't read, couldn't write - you get the idea." Saya turned back to look at Serana again. She still looked upset, but a bit less so now that the story was back on its track. "So, the richer kids gave him shit for it. Even the stupid ones - hell, especially the stupid ones. Everyone jumped at the chance to punch down and shift the ridicule to someone else."
At this point, Serana didn't know what to think. The entire story was starting to leave a poor taste in her mouth. "And… was he that friend of yours?"
"Yep." Saya nodded, grinning. Serana visibly relaxed at her response. "I first met him proper when some idiots were harassing him on the way home. And well, I already didn't like them, and they didn't like me, so I figured it was as good a chance as any to drop in. So I did. Got the first one right in the face so hard he didn't show up for a week afterwards."
Serana winced. "That seems… excessive."
"Oh yeah, definitely, it turned into a whole thing. I came home with like, five new bruises that day." Saya laughed. Serana laughed too, much more uncomfortably. "Anyway, once the others scrammed, Relyn tried to check up on me. I paid him no mind then, but apparently he remembered me. The next day he asked me for help while studying, then when the older siblings of the kids I beat up came to give me trouble, he tried to stand up for me. Both of us got our asses beat, but hey, it's the thought that counts."
Serana smiled wryly. Admittedly, she would've liked a little less violence in her wholesome stories, but she couldn't deny it was good to hear a happy ending. "He sounds like a nice boy."
Saya snorted. "Only if you don't know Dunmeris. The kid swore like a sailor." She shifted a bit in her seat, propping up her head against the side railing. "But yeah, we sorta stuck together since then. Basically grew up together. I even dated him for a couple months, though it didn't really work out in the end. Last I heard, he took over his dad's shop and was getting married to a local girl." She sighed, a hint of nostalgia sneaking into her expression. "That was two years ago. I wonder what the f'lah is doing now. I hope he's alright."
"Mmm. I hope so too, then," Serana murmured. For a while, she simply let the story sit in her head. Hearing such things was always quite curious. In spite of how frequently they spoke, Serana noticed that she knew precious little about her companion. Most of their conversations revolved around the subjects at hand, or the occasional small talk. It was rare to hear Saya talk about herself.
Serana always felt a bit jealous whenever she did.
"What's with the long face?" Ah, right on cue. Serana lifted her head and smiled awkwardly at the Dragonborn's knowing look. "You thinking something grim again after I go through all this effort to cheer you up? Tsk tsk. I'll be sure to include more fantastical violence next time, maybe a plot twist or two…"
"Oh hush, you!" Serana laughed, lightly pushing her in feigned offense. Saya chuckled and shook her head, then looked at the vampire expectantly. After a moment, Serana answered: "I just thought that I… well, I do not have any such stories to share with you. I haven't met that many people in my life, much less made friends with them. I… don't know how."
"Mmm… yeah, right." Saya chuckled, smiling knowingly at Serana's perplexed expression. "I'm going to call bullshit on that one, sunshine. Last I checked you had everyone at the College wrapped around your pretty little finger in what, two weeks? Less than that?"
"Wh- I had not!" Serana sputtered defensively.
"Aww, look at you being all humble," Saya cooed as the vampire's expression warped into a frustrated pout. "You should write to them, you know. I'm sure they wouldn't mind a letter, even if they can't respond."
Serana squeezed the fabric of her cloak with tense fingers. She seemed unsure. Saya watched her companion deliberate for a few moments before growing tired of it all and reaching for her pack. Soon enough, Serana was snapped out of her thoughts as pencil and journal were placed into her lap. She looked at the blank page open before her, then up at Saya who nodded towards the paper. Hesitantly, Serana took the pencil.
"I… I do not know what to write," she muttered quietly. Saya chuckled and stood up, changing seats to sit down beside her.
"Well, good thing we've got time to kill. Let's start simple, what is the most interesting thing you've seen lately?" Saya asked. The vampire stopped to think for a moment, tapping the pencil on the paper aimlessly. A few seconds later, she began writing something down - a neat cursive script, perfectly legible yet finding time and room for the occasional flourish.
Saya watched her with a smile, offering questions and reminders to nudge her forward every now and again. A few minutes later, she didn't even need that anymore.
We got to Sky Haven a little before sunset, just in time to see Fortunata and Fultheim training the new recruits. Seeing a lot of new faces, but I'm not sure how I feel about it. If they're here, I suppose they must be trustworthy enough.
Once Fortunata spotted me, she called for dinnertime so we could do some proper introductions.
The first addition was Angi. It was nice to see that she decided to follow up on my offer. I gave her Zephyr, Katria's bow. I'm sure she can make better use of it than I could.
Second up was a sort of grim-looking fellow named Golldir. Nord, tall and blond, well-built. Not really the talkative type, but maybe it's because Serana was around. I got a sort of… pious feeling from him. In one conversation, he managed to swear by three different totem gods. Fortunata told me she found him while tracking down a trail regarding a group of dragon cultists that broke into his family's ancestral tomb and tried to raise everyone in there. Golldir didn't take too kindly to that, especially since his aunt died trying to stop them. With little else to do now that he got his revenge, he decided to stick around and stop more of the same happening to other people.
The third one was an Orc. Ghorbash Iron-Hand, as he introduced himself. He and Fultheim apparently knew each other - Ghorbash used to serve in the Imperial Legion right up until the Great War ended. After spending so many years in a stronghold, he was the first to volunteer to go outside and investigate the dragons when the chieftain decided they shouldn't be left ignored. On the road, he ran into Fultheim. It was smooth sailing to Sky Haven from there.
The next guy is a bit of a… special case, I suppose. Erik, or "Erik the Slayer" as he fancies himself, is a young Nord lad. Red hair, a bit of a beard, bright-eyed as a guar calf. Got a strong arm on him, though. He was a farmhand over in Rorikstead until very recently, when Mjoll was doing her rounds and didn't realize she was being tailed. He tracked her all the way to Karthspire by the time she noticed. At that point, she didn't know what else to do with him aside from calling Fortunata and asking for her opinion. She figured it was either take him in or kill him then and there, so he was pretty quick to choose.
And the last addition to our merry band of misfits is Uthgerd, whom Mjoll actually picked up during the New Life Festival. They crossed paths earlier on a job, and after a little bit of talking she figured it was as good an idea as any to sign up for dragon killing.
Once that was over, I introduced Serana to everyone. I also didn't bother dancing around the bush and told everyone she was a vampire. They'd find out sooner or later, I'd rather it be directly from us than from a fight or any "private investigations". They seemed predictably apprehensive, but they'll get over it. Erik didn't seem to care. Fortunata gave me a judgemental look but didn't say anything. Golldir seemed to have a problem right up until I told him I'm down to fistfight anyone who bitches about it. All in all, I'd say it went well.
Once everyone was nice and fed, I decided to talk business. I got Fortunata up to speed on all the Dawnguard dealings, told everyone about Blackreach (Mjoll is really bad at explanations, apparently), and also found a place to store the two Elder Scrolls we brought with us. There's a vault in the Temple's inner sanctum that Esbern recently managed to unlock, that should be as good a place as any to keep two priceless divine artifacts. I also told everyone about the Moth Priest business and asked them to keep an eye out just in case Isran proves to be less useful than I'd like.
Serana and I joined the others for the evening training session. Fultheim's regimen is insane, but I guess I'd rather that than anyone be unprepared when it really counts. So far, it seems that everyone is… pretty good, actually. Erik needs some work on his form, but that's a given, and he has good reflexes to make up for flaws in technique.
Fultheim decided to pair him up with Serana. She's a great mage, but she's absolutely useless in close quarters. We'll need to work on that. I wouldn't want her getting caught off guard and hurt. Maybe I could give her some pointers in hand-to-hand. Hell, we could spar if there's time. Both of us could use the practice, I think.
Once that was done, I helped out with supper. I think Erik almost cried. Poor lad. I wonder if Fortunata would disapprove of me finding a cook for this place? Dragon hunting's not light work, so eating properly is definitely something to think about.
And while I don't want to give Fortunata any shit for the stuff I ate when I first came here, Orgnar is definitely the better cook out of the two of them.
Loredas, the 3rd of Morning Star, 4E202
Alright. I am wide awake, I ate breakfast, and I am 100% ready to ruin my morning (and possibly entire day) with a business trip to Markarth. I say it's for the money but really, I don't even know if I'll get paid, let alone how much. All I know is I am taking the first carriage to Riften that I can jump on. No need to make this any longer than it needs to be.
Not to call a spade a spade, but Markarth is dreary. And I mean even more dreary than usual - with the cold setting in, almost all the greenery is gone so it's all just… dull grey rock. And while that's rich coming from me, born and raised in Morrowind, it's still depressing to look at. All this stone and metal makes it feel so… dead. Makes me cold just looking at it.
Though one thing I will say is that the city has become a bit more colorful in other ways. I'm seeing a lot more variety in the people here, a lot more stalls and small merchants. I guess the Silver-Bloods being out of the city made it a lot friendlier to Reachfolk and the like. Or maybe it's the Thalmor? I guess it doesn't matter much in the end.
Serana and I have been asking around for Calcelmo. Apparently he's the Jarl's court wizard, so he lives over at the Keep. Which means I have to drag myself across the entire city. What a joy.
I hate this place so much.
Saya's steps were quick and tense. One street replaced another, then yet another came in that one's stead. Her red eyes darted left to right, searching for the most direct path amidst the labyrinthine grids the city was composed of. Serana stayed close by, her gaze fixed on Saya's back for fear of losing sight of her. Their turns were sharp and sudden, cloaks and people flying by as blurs of color, distant voices having incoherent conversations. Empty noise as they dove into yet another alley.
It was then that Saya felt a hand grab her shoulder, and what happened next was pure reflex. By the time Serana's mind caught up with everything the cloaked figure was already pinned to the wall, Saya's forearm pressed to their neck while her free hand crackled with a magical flame.
"You have five seconds to give me a reason to let you go," Saya hissed. The person in her grasp struggled briefly before they managed to reach up and remove their own hood. Immediately Saya's hold loosened a bit, and Serana saw an Imperial woman with dark hair tied into a messy ponytail.
"By the Eight, do you just attack anyone who comes up to you on the street?" She cursed, coughing as Saya backed off. Serana noticed that she didn't look particularly sorry for the accident. "It's me, remember? From the embassy?"
"You look like shit." Illia glared at her for the comment, but didn't argue. She did look quite skinny compared to last time they met, and the dark circles under her eyes did her no favors. "Are you on guild business again?"
"I'm on 'trying to catch an elf who keeps dodging into alleyways' business," Illia spat and threw up her hood, partially covering her face. Under it, Serana spotted a suit of leather armor in very poor shape. None of her clothing looked particularly suited for the weather. "You were asking around for Calcelmo, yeah?" She nodded. "I have business with that guy and need a favor. Not complicated, but it's very important."
Saya exchanged a glance with Serana and her expression soured a bit. "I believe the last time you owed me a favor was months ago, and I don't recall you ever paying that one back. Is this going to be another one of those?"
"What? Oh, you mean that Miraak business?" Illia sounded tired as she spoke, shaking her head with exasperation. "Look, I have everything you need on your guy. But I really need a hand right now. Honest to gods, it's life or death for me on this. Please?"
Saya stared at her coldly for a few seconds before she sighed, shaking her head. "Fine. What is it?" Illia visibly relaxed and glanced left and right, making sure nobody was listening in on them. Her eyes stopped on Serana. "She's with me," Saya said.
The thief nodded in acknowledgment. "I need to get into Calcelmo's laboratory. He usually keeps the key with him, but there's a spare he leaves for his nephew, Aicantar. I need that key." Saya frowned and Illia immediately added: "Before you ask - I'll take it myself. What I need you to do is distract him. Just keep his attention on yourself for a minute or two. Can you do that?"
Saya paused for a moment. It seemed a little too simple to be true. Then again, she wasn't getting much of anything in return… "Sure. Is that it?"
"From you? Yeah, pretty much. Although… You two aren't planning on staying here, are you?"
"No." Saya shook her head. "We're taking the first carriage out of here."
Illia thought for a moment, and then reached into her pocket, fishing out a small object. She showed it to the two of them - a small, beautifully cut gem of deep blue - and said: "Wait for me at the stables once you're done with Calcelmo and we'll leave together. If you do, I'll give you that in return."
Saya raised an eyebrow. "A… sapphire?" It was no doubt an expensive one given the quality, but she was nonetheless confused.
"It's a token," Illia said, putting the gem back in her pocket. "From a friend. I have a contact who can help you out when you decide to go after this Miraak fellow of yours, you'll just need to give it to him so he knows you're one of mine. Sounds good?" She offered Saya a hand.
Saya gave Serana another glance. Serana didn't really know what to think, but nodded nonetheless. Saya turned back to the thief and shook her hand.
"Consider it a deal."
Alright. Maybe I was a bit too pessimistic going into this.
We walked into the keep all nice and easy, asked the guard for directions, and a couple minutes later I was already talking to Calcelmo. Initially he seemed like a bit of a self-absorbed cunt, but quickly lightened up when he realized I'm apparently not "another dullard here to distract him from important work," as he put it. I danced around the topic a little bit, explaining how I'm an adventurer and have a lot of experience with various Dwemer ruins, and how I recently uncovered a passage into a previously sealed off city, yadda yadda. Turns out he already knew where Alftand was and that it existed, but the last documented entry into that place is from almost a thousand years ago. Something about abnormal glacier movements.
Anyway, we kept up the small talk for a little while until I showed him some stuff that I brought with me, and that's when his eyes lit up proper. That Dwemer locket I brought with me got snatched out of my hands and he took it over to some kind of worktable, where he inspected the thing so thoroughly I was almost worried he'd break it. Then he took out some kind of tool and poked at it for a few seconds, and lo and behold - he actually managed to open the thing. At this point, even I got a little curious and decided to take a look.
It was… a picture. It can't have been a drawing, it was way too detailed for that. Etched or burned into a thin sheet of… silver, I think? It was a perfectly true-to-life picture of a small family of Dwemer, like one of those family portraits you sometimes see in castles and manors. Calcelmo grabbed me by the shoulders and nearly shook my head off asking me all sorts of questions about the locket and how I came across it.
In the end, we managed to settle on a price. A thousand gold upfront, which itself is pretty insane for just a small trinket like this, but also a contract - if I were to come across anything else in Alftand similar to this, I would bring it to him and get similar prices. Everything goes: jewelry, weapons, household objects or decorations - anything that is relatively intact and has any kind of historical or cultural value. On the condition that I bring it all to him and not anyone else, of course.
So, I agreed. I mean, I have no reason not to. I was going to go back there and explore Alftand some more either way. Plus, if he ever got bored I always have Blackreach to sweeten the deal.
And with that done, it's straight to the stables. I've got the money and a destination. All we need to do is wait for Illia to finish up, and in the meantime I can buy some food for the road.
Did I just hear a splash?
Minutes later, the gates of Markarth opened and closed with a heavy sound. The conversation Saya was having with Serana came to an abrupt stop as their eyes darted towards the gates and spotted a familiar figure walking briskly down the stairs. Both of them immediately noticed that she wasn't wearing the same clothes, and that her hair was wet enough to wring. They only exchanged a passing glance with Illia before wordlessly getting into the carriage and signaling the driver to go.
Questions about her predicament could wait until never. Saya had her own priorities at the moment.
They were about an hour away from the city by the time any kind of conversation began. Serana tried to voice concern a few times, asking if she needed a towel or anything, but these interactions were short-lived and didn't result in much aside from a general air of awkwardness in the cart. Saya, meanwhile, was chatting up the cart driver - in part to check just how attentively he was actually listening.
After making sure that he wasn't the eavesdropping type, she finally turned to her thief acquaintance. "So, I do believe I am owed something?" Saya asked, and Illia released a long, heavy sigh before she raised her head to look at the elf. "Miraak. It's been three months. What did you find out?"
"Miraak… right, that one," Illia mumbled to herself and nodded as she recalled the fuzzy details. Frankly, she seemed far too exhausted to talk right now, but she seemed to be pushing past it nonetheless. She was far too exhausted for a great many things, what's one more for the pile? "Well, to save you some time - I have no idea who that is. I searched everywhere. Nobody knows that name, there are no records of him, no nothing."
Saya raised a disconcerted eyebrow. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." Illia nodded. "As far as I'm concerned, you might as well have made him up and I'd be none the wiser."
"Huh…" Well, shit. Saya crossed her arms, fighting to keep her expression neutral but failing. She was visibly frustrated at the development. Sure, her own research was rather shallow, but she had hoped that at least the Guild would have better luck… She sighed. "I do hope I sense a 'but' incoming there, or I'll be sorely disappointed."
"Your 'but' senses would be right," Illia responded in a dead even tone and Serana suddenly snickered. Both Saya and Illia glanced at her as she quickly recomposed herself, pretending nothing happened. After a moment of awkward silence, the thief continued: "As I was saying, your 'Miraak' fellow is basically untraceable. That being said though, he has followers. They're not as infallible… but they also make even less sense than their nonexistent leader."
Saya gave an amused chuckle. "Less than none? How's that work?"
"Somehow, apparently. All I can say for sure is that the only people who even know about this 'Miraak' of yours are his followers, and they're a sneaky bunch. Only one group fucked up enough to get caught, and even they were about as helpful as a migraine." Illia sighed, shaking her head. "Workers, traders, a couple degenerates from lower nobility. Five of them total. Got caught by the Windhelm guard in an abandoned house that a serial killer was squatting in or something. Nobody knows what they were doing there, and they all say they don't even remember being there."
Saya squinted. "Well, that's… convenient." Illia lifted her head, glaring at the Dragonborn. She couldn't say her suspicions were unfounded, but they were still bothersome.
"You're telling me. I had to call in a lot of favors to learn even this much, and they only got caught by fucking accident," Illia said through gritted teeth. Saya lifted both hands in surrender in place of an apology. After a few seconds, the anger vanished from Illia's features. "Sorry. Anyway, there was a background check on them all. Up until that weird meeting? Completely normal people, all of them, going about their days like usual. Only thing connecting them in any way was a written note one of them had - mentioning your 'Miraak' guy."
Now things are getting interesting. Saya leaned back and rubbed her chin, thinking. "What was in the note? Orders?"
Illia shook her head. "Just a cryptic phrase. Something like… 'the fifth pillar nears completion', or something like that. And an order to 'await Miraak's return'. I'm guessing you don't know anything about it either?" Saya shook her head. "Figures."
"Was it signed?"
"No. And before you ask, we don't know where they got it from. There was a beggar outside saying something about a guy in a mask leaving the house long after the guards dragged them out of there, but I don't think anyone ever figured out who that was."
Saya visibly flinched at the mention of a mask. A lot of very dark thoughts crossed her mind as her hands curled into fists involuntarily. She didn't even realize until she felt Serana's hand on hers, shaking her out of it. She took a deep breath and whispered a quiet "I'm fine" to the vampire before returning to the conversation.
"So… anything else? Any leads on what to work with, any trail to follow?" Saya asked. There was a half-hearted attempt to hide the desperation in her voice, but it wasn't too successful. Illia regarded her with a quiet look for a moment before she nodded.
"Yeah. It cost me, but I got my hands on the interrogation records of them all. Turns out they do have one thing in common: big memory blanks none of them can explain." As Illia spoke, Saya remembered the man from Riverwood. She nodded, signaling the thief to go on. "Like I said, all of them have been going about their lives for weeks, months. But if you asked them, none of them would be able to tell you any specifics. They all seemed to be a bit absent-minded, like you just dragged them out of bed."
"Illusion magic?" Serana suddenly piped up and everyone turned to her. "People under the effects of mind-altering spells may sometimes act or behave in odd ways, though I have never heard of anything of such scale. An hour or two, perhaps, but weeks…"
Illia shrugged. "Beats me, I'm no mage. And if anyone asked Wuunferth, it wasn't recorded. He's about as friendly as a bear with a stubbed toe on a good day."
Serana deflated somewhat, returning to her thoughts. Saya then turned to Illia again. "What about their relatives? Were any of them related or have families? What did they say?"
"Well, most of them had none, so that was a start." Illia chuckled sardonically. "But one of them, a sailor, actually had a wife. The guard talked to her, and she said that he's been behaving a bit odd ever since he came back from some kind of island. She didn't know the name, though."
Saya groaned. "Does anyone ever fucking know anything in that city?"
Illia laughed, this time more genuine. "Beats me. But thankfully, I don't need them to. Look at this," she reached into a satchel she had on her back and pulled out a small collection of notes, offering Saya a look at one of the pages. "See this? That's the shipping records at the Eastmarch branch of the East Empire Trading Company. And here-" she flipped a few pages rapidly, showing her a different note, "-are the records from the same quarter, this time from the Solitude office. Notice anything in common?"
Saya's eyes narrowed, trying to piece it together. She saw names and numbers - ships, captains, destinations, profits and expenses. She blinked. "I'm… not really seeing anything out of order."
"Are you? Look here," Illia pointed at a specific record. Then at another. Then another. Saya's eyes slowly widened in understanding.
"There's… a delay?"
The thief nodded. "For the past five months or so, there's been a consistent delay in all vessels coming to and from a specific island, just northeast of Windhelm - Solstheim. On some, there's even a note commenting on extra expenses on rations. Which means…"
"They were carrying more people than expected," Saya finished the phrase for her. With that missing link, everything was quickly falling into place. Weird trips, missing memories, sleeper agents, men in masks, mysterious notes… "And how long did you say this has been happening?"
"Five months, give or take a few. Actually, let me check…" Illia flipped through her notes, quickly scanning everything and nodding to herself. "Yeah, the first recorded delay was for an ebony trading vessel headed out of Windhelm. It's an eight hour trip, and they came back with a two day delay on… 23rd of Last Seed. There was some kind of hold up on the 20th."
…oh.
"Does that ring a bell?" Illia asked as she turned towards Saya, who was staring blankly into the distance. The voice calling her was right in her ear, but her mind was somewhere far, far away.
Middas, the 20th of Last Seed, year 201 of the 4th Era. The day she was woken up by a runner from the guard telling her to grab her weapon and go to Dragonsreach. The day she saw the sunrise at the Western Watchtower, not knowing that her life would never be the same afterwards.
The day she killed her first dragon and the Greybeards issued their summons.
"...wasn't there something about a sapphire, too?" Saya asked, quieter than before. Illia blinked stupidly at the abrupt change of topic but recovered. A few seconds of searching later, she fished out that same sapphire she'd shown to the two of them a few hours prior.
"Here, this thing. Just don't go selling it, it's special." She placed the gem in Saya's open hand. Saya then lifted it up, looking through it at the sky. It was beautiful. "If you're going to Solstheim, then chances are you're gonna dock at Raven Rock. When you're there, look for a man named Glover Mallory. Give him that, and he'll know to give you a pointer or a discount or two."
"Hm. Thanks," Saya said and pocketed the gem.
There was little conversation to be had afterwards. Serana attempted to make small talk a few times, and Illia gave her non-committal replies that halted any further questioning - at least for a few minutes. In the meantime, Saya took out her journal and began to write down everything she had just learned, a route slowly constructing itself in her mind. She wanted to keep herself occupied. Drown herself in work so she wouldn't have to talk about any of it. A semicolon in her day to separate the before and after so she could ignore it until relevant and keep moving.
When she tried to put down a comma, her pencil broke.
Illia hopped off as we rode up to Whiterun. Not much of a goodbye. I guess she didn't need to come back to the Guild quite yet. But I guess I'm breaking my own "none of my business" rule.
We arrived at Riften late-ish, so I figured going to Isran could wait until tomorrow. I was tempted to arrange a carriage to Windhelm for tomorrow but after two days of cart-riding my ass is in agony, so I think we'll go on foot. Might see something interesting if we do, who knows.
I rented out a room for us at the Bee and Barb, got some dinner and a drink. Talen-Jei got me to try one of his cocktails, I don't even remember the name to be honest. It hit hard. I think I'm going to go lie in Vaermina's bosom now, before I get a headache. Or throw up.
Maybe I should grab some water for the morning.
Sundas, the 4th of Morning Star, 4E202
So, the Dawnguard. I came early in the morning so that I still had time to travel to Windhelm. If the weather is good, I should be there by nightfall. The Dawnguard seems to be doing well for itself. Unfortunately, no progress on the Moth Priest side of things, but the vampires aren't making any either thanks to everyone's efforts. From what Isran told me, it seems that the Volkihar have been sending out agents to blend in with the populace and spread rumors while also enthralling people to feed on. One of them was even in the Falkreath court, they were lucky enough to discover him quickly.
Still, the Dawnguard is establishing a presence so they can keep watch over everyone. More recruits have been showing up, most of them being troops, but there's the occasional craftsman or two considering the new gear I've been seeing around. Gunmar's animal training is also showing results - I've noticed a couple armored bears at camp, and even a troll or two. The crossbows look a little different, too. Sorine's doing, probably. I still have that old thing I took from the fort lying at home. Maybe I should bring it here for an upgrade.
Oh also, Isran found more mages. That's a good idea in theory. In practice, a particularly zealous fellow was playing gatekeeper at the fort and things almost got dicey because he wouldn't shut up and turn off his vampire-incinerating runes until Isran heard a commotion and whacked him on the head. Asshole.
Anywho, with Isran caught up we set off to the road. All in all it was a pretty calm trip. There was a guy who tried to rob us, but we managed to scare him off pretty quick. Funny how that works - two "easy targets" suddenly become not so easy when one's holding a sword in hand and the other is ready to put an ice spike through your skull.
Serana felt bad for him, I think. I almost did. Probably would've seemed more sympathetic if he didn't look like a raging alcoholic threatening me with a rusty knife. At least he had the sense to scram, that's more than some other bandits I've seen.
We got to Kynesgrove by sundown. At that point it got pretty cold, so I decided that we should stay the night there. Windhelm is a spit away at that point, and I'd rather not look for an inn when it's all packed.
Also, the innkeep gave me a small discount. Thanks, Sahloknir.
Morndas, the 5th of Morning Star, 4E201
Cold.
Saya's breath left her lips as vapor. Pure white, like the snow around them. The winds had picked up as soon as they left the inn. The trees that once served as cover now seemed awfully scarce, staring them down from mountain sides with their downcast branches. A thin black road led them through the valley all the way since Kynesgrove. The only saving grace for now was the lack of snow.
Saya huffed when she reached the highest point of the valley - a small hill, an opening in the mountains separating the south and north halves of Eastmarch. Catching her breath, the Dragonborn looked back at the landscape full of evergreen plants and distant geysers. Then she turned her gaze ahead and saw pale peaks covered in snow, with a city of black stone sprawling across two sides of a mighty river, frozen solid as its mouth open to gnaw at the boundless sea.
Windhelm. The City of Kings.
The pair pushed on. Barren land slowly turned to farms, crops as hardy as the ones tending to them. Distant lights shone from the city, stacks of smoke flowing upwards from the many hearths therein. Overlooking it all was a grand palace that looked as though it was chiseled into the mountain. Perhaps it was. Down by the docks, people scurried around the ships, talking, working, drinking. She said hello to the Khajiit caravan as she passed them by, both sides trying very hard to ignore the stink of horse shit coming from the stables upwind.
She ignored the guard's comment on the color of her eyes as he pushed the gates open. Serana tried not to make eye contact, pulling her cloak tighter around herself when she felt another's eyes upon her. They entered the city with quick steps, not wishing to linger any longer than necessary.
Immediately, their attention was pulled by the sound of a bustling crowd in the city's central district. Saya and Serana exchanged a glance and nodded to each other, silently agreeing to investigate. There were whispers, sometimes cheers, the occasional cry of support or protest. The only constant amidst it all was the booming voice of a man with a thick Nordic accent, speaking words they couldn't quite hear from a distance. The only choice was to dive into the crowd, Saya's hand locked with Serana's so they wouldn't separate.
"...and so did Alessia of Sard betray her kin, consorting with the very elves she claimed to overthrow! This, my brothers and sisters - this is the Empire they fight to protect! An abomination, a compromise of the impotent fools that begged our forefathers for assistance to throw off the elven yoke only to shackle them as well!"
As the man's voice grew closer, Saya couldn't help but grimace with discomfort. The contents of his words alone painted a colorful image. The only thing giving her hope was the fact that there were many passersby that didn't bother stopping to listen, and even some of the ones that did bore skeptical scowls on their faces. Yet she still couldn't shake off the feeling that his words were not quite clear, as though muffled by something.
"Sons and daughters of Skyrim, we must not repeat their mistake! Remember the words of the Dragon of the North: Never again shall the Nords trust a devil, for all their words are sweetened poison to keep us placid and complacent! Our southern kin have grown fattened on false symbols, boasting stolen names and twisted histories! They turned the once-mighty Crown of Storms into a travesty, a golden collar for the elven lapdogs that dance at their beck and call!"
Saya's eyes narrowed. Damn these Nords and their height, can't see shit. She tried to tip-toe around, peeking over the shoulder of the nearest onlooker. Yet as the crowd kept shifting, she only got the briefest glimpse of a brown robe before she nearly fell over, only regaining balance thanks to Serana.
"Are you okay?" The vampire asked, moving closer to her. Saya shook her head.
"I have a bad feeling about this fellow. I want to try and get a closer look, but don't want to push around too much…" As she spoke, her eyes scanned for an opening in the crowd. "Ah, hold on-" she said, quickly reaching out to give herself a way forward, to the front of the crowd.
"Remember our sacrifices, o Men! Remember what was taken from us! Remember the days of Ysgrim Shorebreaker, anon Ysgramor, when our gods flew with us and bade us come to our ancestral land! Remember when our breath was winter and our blood was flame! Remember how our kin, our land, our faith were taken from us and how we took them back - not with diplomacy and lies, but with a strong arm and a cry that shook the heavens with our rage!"
With a final push, Saya managed to slip by the man before her - a bulky son of a bitch, nearly three heads taller than she was. She almost slipped in the process, stumbling forward to quickly catch herself. A whispered curse fell from her lips before she lifted her eyes at last, looking forward at the sermonizer. That was when her breath stopped in her throat.
"Remember what was forgotten by the blind and misguided! Remember what was stolen by the faithless and the treacherous! Remember how we toiled and how we reclaimed what was always ours!"
She knew his voice sounded off. She couldn't understand why, initially. She knew now.
"Listen and you shall hear! Look and you shall see! Speak if you remember!"
She recognized his robe. Muted brown. Long sleeves. A sash wrapping around the waist and diagonally across the chest, held in place with leather belts.
"Rise, children of Skyrim! Know your enemy so they cannot deceive you! Know your gods so they might reward you! Know the corruption within you so it may be purged!"
Hands covered by brown gloves. Down from the shoulders - armor the color of brass, shaped like jagged scales.
"Know that the fires of Alduin shall be your salvation!"
On his face, he wore a white bone-carved mask shaped like a stylized dragon.
