Stendarr's Dragon

by Midnight Coffee 64

I've decided to write a story based on my very first Dovahkiin, the Breton Paladin Cura! Raised in the Vigil of Stendarr, she goes on to save Skyrim in times of crisis in a Season Unending! Humble and meek by nature, Cura finds her values and general disposition challenged by the brutal world around her. *Decided to write this since Skyrim's 10th Anniversary! :)*

55. The Courage of the Vigilant Part 5

"You're going to take his Hammer? Are you serious?" Isran stood at the doorway of the Chapel, ogling Carcette as she approached the mighty Aedra Relic mounted beside the statue of the Divine of Mercy and Justice.

"Yes." Carcette informed him, keeping her back turned to the Redguard as she ogled the artifact within her grasp. "I know we've never seen eye-to-eye before, but I hope this means you'll see my worth as a warrior of light, still."

"Maybe, but relics or none, I'm always going to be keeping my eye on you. I hope you realize that. At the end of the day, even if Stendarr sees something in you that I don't, you're still a vampire, complete with the dark desires and deceptive nature." Isran pursed his lips and walked closer, step by step until he stood about seven feet away from her. "Can you even touch it?" He gestured towards the holy relic.

"We'll see, won't we?" Carcette was uncertain herself as she was about to touch the Hammer. Taking a deep breath of hesitance, she recalled a fact about the relic. "This Hammer is the heaviest of all artifacts, Aedric and Daedric. It took ten of my strongest men, Tolan himself included, to mount it in the Hall. Cura was able to carry it, with her Draconic Strength."

"And now you think that because you're a Vampire with supernatural strength you'll be strong enough to lift it." Isran stated plainly.

"Exactly." Carcette confirmed. "This Hammer was used by Stendarr himself and is the last trace of physical presence of himself here on Nirn."

"And as a vampire, you aren't afraid you'll burn?" Isran asked. "This is no joke. I don't want to be cleaning your ashes off the floor."

Carcette shook her head. "It... is a possibility, but after Stendarr's Aura didn't affect me... maybe I can withstand this. Maybe it could even serve as a reminder to stay away from sentient blood, as I'll have the potential wrath of Stendarr on my back."

"Why are you telling me this?" Isran asked her. "Is your bloodlust becoming too strong? Do I have to slug you with a crossbow right here, right now?"

Carcette shook her head in irritated protest. He would like that, wouldn't he? "My goal is to prevent it from ever getting that far. I'm sure that someday there will be a cure out there... perhaps from Stendarr himself. I don't know, but I can't afford to lose hope. I owe it to Cura to set things right. I owe it to the Vigil to resist this curse, and to avenge the fallen with Harkon's blood. I'm walking a path of redemption, Isran. Let me stay on it."

Isran felt something that moment. He wasn't quite sure what it was or how to describe it exactly, but it was somewhere in the field of admiration. He was conflicted by this feeling but decided that it could wait. "Fine. Go right ahead. I'll get a broom and dustpan ready."

"I don't think you'll need it." Carcette stepped back up to the Hammer and watched it glisten under the dim torchlight, beckoning to her. Slowly but surely, she touched the handle and instinctively pulled her hand back on instinct upon minute contact, for fear of a burn that was not present. She then resolved that it was meant to be, and grabbed the handle and lifted the hammer off of the statue and held it up in the air for a moment.

Isran's jaw hung open in awe and mild disbelief. "The hammer of a God... of Stendarr himself... held by a vampire..."

Carcette began to twirl the hammer so she could get a better view of the details on the handle and on the head. "It's magnificent." Before, she had to struggle to get an overall view of the artifact, but like this she could see it from all angles and held it accordingly. "Harkon is going to be very sorry for all that he's done."

Isran collected himself once more and watched the former Keeper as she walked past him. He spun around and spoke up again. "Any pretenses of morality will unwind themselves the moment you taste human blood. Best keep that in mind."

Carcette nodded. "Yes, I know. And I won't. Fenrik's will may have been weak, but mine is stronger."

"I give you about three more days." Isran scoffed. "Three more days and you'll be one of them. Just look at you! Hair losing its colour, becoming ashen. Skin paler than the snow. Eye glowing with untold fires, consumed with hunger, skin gnarled... you're at the end of your rope." He noted her ghastly appearance as his source of concern. "I don't even recognize you anymore, Carcette."

"That makes two of us." Carcette said as she continued to walk away towards the Main Hall, where Cura, Serana, and Lucien awaited.

Dexion also waited for her there, with Stendarr's Little Helper. "Ah, there you are! Carcette, was it?"

The older Breton nodded cordially in response, and Dexion continued.

"I wanted to thank you, again, for getting me away from those vampires." Dexion stated. "The Divines only know how ill-fated it could have gone if I would have read that prophecy to them."

"Of course." Carcette responded.

"Well, at any rate, I wanted to give you this." Dexion handed her a Potion of Fire Abatement. "Because you're susceptible to fire, this should help. I gave one to Serana, as well."

Serana held up her flask and twiddled it side to side to confirm this.

"She's really not that weak against fire. Not magical fire, anyway..." Cura stated, recalling their battle in the Redwater Den.

"Cura..." before Carcette could bring it up, Cura shook her head.

"I don't want to bring that matter up again." Cura told her quickly. "I was just stating a fact. Magic doesn't do much to a proper Breton. Even as a vampire." Her bitterness was still obvious, but Cura attempted to set it aside for the time, which was more than good enough. "Are we ready?"

The groip nodded.

"Ready as I'll ever be, Candle!" Lucien exclaimed. "Just tell me where to angle the Stake!" He held up a wooden stake.

Cura furrowed her brows. "We don't need those."

"Where did you even get that?" Serana snapped at Lucien as she took a couple steps back.

"From the fences outside, of course!" Lucien laughed it off. "I saw some wood splintering off them, so I decided to tear off a peace when Vori wasn't looking and used a dagger to sharpen it into a wooden stake! A stroke of genius, I should say."

"It's only useful if we're asleep." Serana stated obviously. "How do you 8intend to put that in a Vampire's chest when they're alert and awake?"

Cura nodded. "Which will most likely be the case."

"Well, I'll keep it as a souvenir instead, then!" Lucien stated defensively as he pocketed the stake. "When I get back home to Cyrodiil, I could show it to my parents and tell them that I was, indeed, part of a group of Vampire Hunters, and this will be the proof! ...And maybe some Vampire Dust too, if I can get some along the way."

Cura smiled. "Certainly. I'd be happy to bag some for you."

"Eh... It would be better if I could slay a Vampire myself." Lucien stated, not enjoying the hollowness of taking another's spoils as his own. "Can you show me how it's done?"

"You could go with your idea and stake them through the heart in their hiding place." Dexion interjected. "Or, you could engage them head-on,which I would not recommend for anybody short of seasoned professionals."

Stendarr's Little Helper barked loudly and began to pant in a friendly manner as he walked over to Carcette. She felt the fog run against her and reached down to stroke the back of his head. "What's that, boy? Do you want to hunt some vampires?" She asked, and the husky responded with a playful 'yip!'

"Yes, he's been restless all morning." Dexion informed her. "The other dogs haven't yet accepted him in the kennels. Poor Stendarr's Little Helper... someday, little one, someday. "

"Bran and Sceolang haven't taken a liking to him yet?" Cura asked.

"Yes." Dexion confirmed, disappointedly. "But dogs can be like that. Sometimes they need time to adjust to a new face."

"So... I hate to sound like a wet noodle, but why did you call it 'Stendarr's Little Helper'?" Lucien asked Carcette as he began to pet the friendly dog's head.

"Because when Dexion and I were attacked by Harkon's vampires, this little fellow came to help us in the battle." Carcette stated. "So, I affectionately named him 'Stendarr's Little Helper'."

"Cute." Serana's nose curled as she cringed lightly. "I hope he knows who and who not to bite."

The group opened the front door and headed out.

About seven hours or so passed since the group departed, and Adalvald called the faithful into that very chapel and began his sermon. Here, he was reminding the resolute of their duty to Stendarr.

"Thus Stendarr looked upon the world of mortals, and he found it afflicted by Abominations. And he made it known unto his priests, resolutes, and templars, that these unnatural profanities are abhorrent in his sight, and are to be exterminated by the Righteous without halt or mercy. For these Abominations are each and every the eternal enemies of the mortals of the Mundus, and shall not be suffered to abide among us.

And these Abominations are four in kind, and may be known thusly:

-The Daedra, those unworldly horrors that are not of the Mundus, but come from Oblivion to inflict cruelty and death upon the mortals of Tamriel.

-The Manbeasts, those mortals who through traffic with the bestial Hircine do change their skins for those of animals, preying thence upon the innocent.

-The Risen Corpses, those restless undead whose rotting bodies persist with loathsome and unnatural vigor, sowing fear and agony among the living.

-The Deathless Vampires, who feed horrifically upon honest citizens, regarding righteous mortals as mere cattle to sate their unholy hungers.

Know these Four Abominations, O ye righteous, and gather to slay them where're they appear."

The sentiment that echoed through the hearts of the Resolute of Stendarr, and through the hearts of all Vigilants, save perhaps Cura and precious few others. Brother Adalvald tended the chapel, giving this, his sermon that morning, and concluded with prayer. "Blessed be the name of Stendarr, the God of Mercy. He strengthens and unifies his Resolutes through his wisdom and blessings. He calls us by day to train with sword and shield to strengthen our might; and by night to pray in his name to strengthen our souls. He takes pity upon us, his humble servants, and grants unto us mercy. His holy light of truth will cast out the forces of darkness and rain justice upon Daedric abominations. Glory shall be his, forever."

"Forever." the congregation repeated back.

The atmosphere was calm; tranquil. A peaceful corner in the busybody establishment of Fort Dawnguard; a calm in the midst of a raging storm. Isran, Celann, and Tolan sat in the pews in silent prayer, surrounded by other Vigilants.

They knew the importance of their tasks, and what was at stake for the world should they falter. Isran, in particular, was conflicted with his duties and the decision to harbour Vampires, even if one of these deathless fiends was once a Colleague of his. However, she had proven to him that Stendarr still held her in high regard, as his Righteous Aura did nothing against her.

The Divines were orderly beings, so this amount of flexibility was unusual, to be certain, and yet that very same aura harmed other Vampires. It was not the aura that was at fault, but circumstances confounded the Redguard. Was it possible that the excerpt from the Book of the Four Abominations was wrong? Or was it perhaps right, but Carcette hadn't met all of the requirements as of yet. According to the former Keeper, she hadn't drunk Human blood. The final verse on Vampires stated, "the Deathless Vampires, who feed horrifically upon honest citizens, regarding righteous mortals as mere cattle to sate their unholy hungers."

Carcette still held Stendarr and his teachings in her heart, it would seem. Though, Isran kept a deal of skepticism regarding her intentions. Vampires were always corrupt. She should have burned once her fingers wrapped around the shaft of the Warhammer, but they did not.

Could there be exceptions, like Cura suggested?

He felt that Cura was too naive; too trusting of others. Though he expected as much from her. She was young and still had much to learn, though Redwater Den was a start.

Still, he could not shake the thought of Stendarr taking the side of a vampiress over himself. Excerpts from the "Aura of Righteousness" entered his mind.

"Insomuch as all fell things abhor the light, so has Stendarr gifted all those who invoke His Name with the ability to clothe themselves in a righteous aura of blessed light. Over time, even as evil's many Abominations found new ways to afflict Tamriel's mortals with destruction and death, the Priests and Resolutes of Stendarr have adapted Stendarr's glowing gift to many purposes, whether to smite, to defend, or to heal.

For offensive means, Stendarr's gift most often manifests as a piercing beam of light, resembling a spear of purifying sunlight and oft referred to in those terms.

As a form of armor, Stendarr's gift may take the form of a diffuse aura that surrounds the righteous, mitigating the attacks of the abominable, or it may focus into an almost-palpable shield to ward off a specific threat.

Worshipers who eschew all forms of violence, such as the Harmonious Masters of Lillandril, have turned Stendarr's glowing gift into a tool for healing, and then freely spread their knowledge of cleansing and healing rituals, even to Stendarr's more militant adherents. For even in the hands of a warrior, how can the curing of ills be an ill thing?"

Carcette... you crazy Breton. Even now you continue to be a thorn in my side. Isran thought to himself humorously as he shook his head. It boggled his mind, her insistence on remaining pure. A vampire is a vampire, whether they were a former Priest or not would never change that fact.

In some strange way, Isran respected the former Keeper of the Vigil. If he were to become infected, he would do whatever it took to cure himself; even if it meant Soul-trapping a Bandit and bringing the Black Soul Gem to a Conjurer, like Falion in Morthal.

He hoped that Cura might consider that option, since Carcette surely wouldn't.

Isran promised Stendarr one thing, however; if Carcette even licks a drop of Human blood, or Elven blood, or even Argonian blood, he would hunt her down like all the rest.

After all, would it not just be mercy to end her tortured continued existence at that point?

And Serana.

That one is not to be trusted, under any circumstance. Isran had guards watching her from the moment she first set foot in his Fort.

First moment she bared her fangs, even in conversation, he would plug her forehead with a lengthy crossbow bolt.

Just wandered in like she owned the place, looking for Cura.

Cura was a trouble magnet. That child was always causing strife, wherever she went. Whether it was goofing off during training, bringing unwanted animals into the Hall, or bringing Vampires into his Fort, she always led to ill consequences. Now, Isran was sure she wasn't doing it on purpose, but it was uncanny.

He stood up from his pew and left the chapel, joined with Vigilant Tolan outside.

"It was a great idea of you to install a proper chapel here, Isran." Tolan stated graciously. "Truly, Stendarr must be pleased."

"Hm." Isran replied reticently.

Vigilant Tolan was stunned for a second by his lack of a response, but then remembered that this was Isran he was talking to. "So... I heard you sent Cura to root out a vampire in Morthal."

"You heard right." Isran told him.

"She'll get it done in less than two days." Tolan complimented the young Half-Elf. "You can trust Cura with that. I've seen her fight firsthand. She's a fearsome lass on the battlefield."

"For all our sakes I hope you're right." Isran stated. "I consider this a test, to see what she's about. To see if she could really help us."

Vigilant Tolan raised a brow. "What do you mean? She's fought vampires before. She defeated Minorne with a Shout, I'd heard."

"She lost to Carcette. Badly." Isran reminded him. "If the vampire in Morthal is the legendary Movarth Piquine, as Falion surmised, she'll have her work cut out for her."

"Movarth Piquine..." Vigilant Tolan spoke softly, voice churning in dread like salted butter. "I've heard stories of him. I thought he was dead! I hope Cura can manage... no! I'm certain she can."

"If not, then she was no use to Skyrim anyway." Isran coldly stated as he left down the Hall.

Tolan quickly caught up to him. "Also, Isran, I know it might seem strange to you, but Stendarr's Hammer disappeared from the Chapel. Did you notice that it was missing?"

"It's not missing." Isran corrected him. "Carcette took it."

Tolan raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean, Carcette took it? She's a-"

Isran shook his head. "It makes no sense that she could be able to touch it, let alone wield it, but it is the case." He took a couple of steps forward and placed his hand on the brick wall. "Let's get back to work."

---

"You know, they say Morthal was named after the Nord hero, Morihaus." Lucien stated. "I just find it odd how it sounds like an anagram for 'Thalmor'. Probably just a coincidence."

Cura turned and pointed towards him. "You know, I thought the same thing. That's funny."

Lucien chuckled. "Did you really? I'll bet you're making that up!"

Cura shook her head. "No, it just kind of... looked that way. 'Thal-mor.' 'Mor-thal'." She illustrated the point by waving her hands.

Serana scratched her head. "So... the Thalmor are High Elves, right?"

"The third Aldmeri Dominion." Lucien stated. "The Altmer who rule the Summerset Isles and surrounding areas who advocate Elven supremacy and have great disdain for mankind."

"Yes... I thought as much." Serana admitted.

A few moments of silence passed as the group continued to walk through the marsh as the town came into view.

Cura walked up beside Lucien. She felt as though she hadn't been as kind as she should be with the young Imperial man, and so decided to speak cordially. "So, Lucien, I realized that I haven't asked much about your background. It was awfully rude of me. If we're traveling together, I should get to know you better, I think."

Lucien nodded. "It's all right, Candle." He reassured her. "I'm not angry about it; you've had your hands full with all sorts of... stuff. Ask me anything!"

"So, I know you're from Cyrodiil, but where did you say you were from, again?" Cura asked.

"I grew up in the Imperial City-mostly with my nose in a book." Lucien prefaced chipperly. "My family own a small amount of property there, and they always encouraged me to pursue my interests. Namely, knowledge, in all its forms. I spent time at the Arcane University, a couple of years at the archives of the White-Gold Tower, and I've studied at every academy in the city."

"Fascinating." Cura admitted. "You must be quite well-learned, indeed."

Lucien smiled. "But no amount of academic knowledge can compare to some practical experience! I'm done reading about the world. Now I want to see it!" He clenched his fists enthusiastically as he expressed his desire.

"So, what is your family like back home?" Cura asked.

"Oh, the Flaviuses are firmly rooted in the Imperial City. We've always had a strong sense of home." Lucien stated plainly. "We're a tight-knit bunch, and we get on rather well, most of the time!"

"That's good to hear." Serana remarked off-hand. "At least it makes one of us."

Cura looked at Carcette, who looked at her, and they both looked away slowly, and slightly awkwardly.

Lucien continued. "They worry, though, particularly about me. Gave them quite a shock when I told them about this expedition!"

"They care about you." Carcette stated. "It's a normal thing for parents to go through, and no wonder they'd be shocked about you heading to Skyrim, of all places."

"Do you have any siblings?" Cura asked next.

"None! I was the proverbial apple of my parents' proverbial eyes. And yes, they spoiled me rotten." Lucien expressed.

"It shows, pretty boy." Serana scoffed.

"Hey!" Lucien took offense but decided to continue. "Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have had a brother or a sister. But then I wouldn't be quite who I am today! So I can't complain."

"Well, I can relate." Cura stated. "I had no siblings either. Or biological parents until this year. Carcette and Tolan were always the closest thing to a mother and father I've had, and the Vigil like a large family." She shrugged. "Honestly, they provided a nice home, all in all. I can't really complain much, except for the sheltering."

Carcette placed a hand on her shoulder. "And now, having been out in the world and having seen the horrors there are, you can understand why."

Cura stifled up for a second, having no denial. Instead, she redirected the topic. "So... Lucien, tell me about your parents."

Lucien swelled up proudly. "I'll start with my father. Davidicus is his name. He's an academic, like e, always up to his elbows in old scrolls. He does a lot of consultancy work for the Imperial Government. Hunts down relics for them, that sort of thing. I'd be lying if I said we always saw eye-to-eye, but I owe a lot to him, and he's very dear to me."

"That's sweet." Cura smiled, echoing the sentiments to her own mentors.

"And then there's my mother... ah, Captain Lyra of the Imperial Legion. She and I couldn'y be more different, but she's always supported me in everything I've done." Lucien held a hand to his chest tenderly as he recalled his mother. "She fought against the Talmor in the Great War-in fact, she was there for Lord Naarfin's defeat at the battle of the Red Ring!"

"No way!" Cura's jaw dropped.

"Yes way!" Lucien beamed proudly. "She retired to marry my father and raise me. But despite her career, she never tried to force me onto the same path. I write to her fairly regularly-my father, too. And while she worries, I think she's proud of me for doing this. I hope so, anyway."

"I hope so too, Lucien." Cura told him. "You'll have many interesting tales to share with her, I can promise you that much at least."

"Well, the first will be on how I met the Dragonborn!" Lucien exclaimed. "That'd make the Black Horse Courier, if anything would!"

"Then add in meeting the daughter of a powerful Vampire Lord, and the Vampire-turned Keeper of the Vigil, and a Blue Khajiit to the mix." Serana said flippantly. "That would spice it up even more."

"Well, once everything is settled... the vampires, the Dragons..." Cura began to think ahead. "Is there anywhere in particular that you'd like to see?"

"Now that you mention it, I suppose there is!" Lucien thought on it. "Somewhere here in Skyrim there's a Dwemer Ruin called 'Dumzbthar.'"

"Dumb-what?" Cura joked about the name.

"I came across a text relating to it in my last few months at the Arcane University." Lucien stated. "Dwemer is a fiddly language-often the same words can have multiple meanings-but I'm fairly sure it translates to "Bound Ghosts.""

"Soul Gems?" Carcette mused.

Lucien pointed at her when she said this. "It piqued my curiosity- the use of Soul Gems in Dwemer Automatons is well-documented, but no one really knows much about their purpose or function."

"Maybe the souls of the dead control the automatons?" Cura asked, feeling the morbidity od the subject.

"Damned Dwemer." Carcette shook her head disaprovingly. "In their attempts to rival the Gods, they've done many inane things... it's no wonder they all vanished."

Lucien continued. "My father is looking into it for me while I'm here on my expedition. If he finds anything, he's going to let me know!"

"All right." Cura closed the topic. "I'll try my best to keep you alive until then."

"Thanks, Candle." Lucien said as he wiped some sweat off his forehead. The dampness of the swamp was digging into him as it contrasted with the cool mountain air.

Stendarr's Little Helper ran ahead of the group and made a beeline for the ruins of an old house on the end of a small wharf.

The group hurried after the dog and watched with stillness as he began to scratch at the wall on the western side of the house's remains.

"What's going on, boy?" Carcette asked her new canine companion. "Is something there?"

The group looked at it for a while and began to examine the house, finding nothing.

Eventually the dog calmed down and Lucien began to gently stroke his chin.

"Poor doggy..." Cura said. "I think the place is getting to him."

"Maybe we should ask at the Inn." Serana suggested, pointing to a small tavern with a sign that read 'Moorside Inn'.

Inside, the Moorside Inn was more lonesome than the desolate hamlet itself.

The Redguard innkeeper woman stopped sweeping as Cura approached with her party. "Finally, someone comes in. Kick off your boots, stay awhile. Let me know if there's anything I can help you with. I got nothing but time these days."

"Is business in Morthal slow?" Cura asked, hoping to segway into the rumours Isran told her about.

"Slow? No. It just ain't there at all. Few enough reasons to pass through Morthal before the war started. Now... Well, let's just say the front door doesn't get much use." the Innkeeper shrugged.

Serana pointed to a strange Orc in an orange vest dancing around the hearth fire. "What's with the Orc?" She scoffed as she pointed in his direction.

"Lurbuk? Fancies himself a bard. He pays, so I let him stay. If I had any customers, I'd be worried about him annoying them. But, well... look around." The innkeeper gestured to the vacuous space around them.

Carcette stepped forward, hoping she looked human enough to not attract ill attention. "Is there a story behind that burned down house?"

The innkeeper realized what she was getting at. "Hroggar's house? It burned down not too long ago. It's a real pity about his wife and kid. The screams woke half the town. Most folk won't go near it now for fear it's cursed." Then she seemed to realize something. "Ah, Vigilants of Stendarr, right? I guess there must be something there for real, then." She gestured to Cura and Carcette's matching apprentice robes.

"How did the fire start?" Cura asked. "Do you have any idea how it happened?"

"Hroggar claims it was a hearth fire. Some folks say Hroggar started it himself." The innkeeper listed possibilities.

"With his own wife and child inside?" Serana asked, saddened by the disturbing thought. It was beginning to feel close to home, all things considered.

"That's what they say. See, he's living with Alva now. That started the day after the fire. It ain't right, movin' in with a new love the day after your kin die like that."

"And of course they can't prove he murdered them." Carcette shook her head, disgusted.

"Aye. Our Jarl would sure like to know if he did though. Might even pay to find out." the innkeeper hinted at a possible job for them.

The group left the Inn and headed into the town, towards the Jarl's Hall, otherwise known as Highmoon Hall in this region, when they noticed a small group outside arguing with a brunette man on the front steps.

A lumberjack snapped at him. "What's the Jarl going to do about it?"

A blonde man with his hair tied in a ponytail wearing a green tunic bellowed. "How are we supposed to feel safe in our own homes?"

The dutiful man took it in stride, as though he were used to being the butt of complaints, evident in his exasperation. "Please, enough already! I have told Jarl Idgrod of your concerns. She'll look after you all. Please, go back to your business."

The lumberjack barked. "We have no need for wizards in our midst!"

The blonde man waved his fist in the air angrily. "Morthal has enough problems as it is!"

After a couple of seconds passed and the dutiful man was unmoving, the lumberjack turned to the blonde and sneered. "Bah, its no use. Let's get back to it then."

They began to go their separate ways, when Cura approached the frazzled lumberjack. "Er... hello?"

"The world's going mad, and our Jarl does what? She hides inside with her 'visions'. We need a leader, not some mystic!" The lumberjack complained.

"It sounds as though you don't trust the Jarl." Cura remarked.

"How can I? She never speaks with us. She's allowed this wizard, Falion, to live in our midst practicing gods-know-what. And now there's talk of rebellion, and dragons? What help could Idgrod be against them? No, we can only rely on ourselves. You'd do well to remember that." the lumberjack chastised before storming off.

Cura shook her head. "I think he's wrong about Idgrod. When we first met, she immediately knew who and what I was."

"Wait, you met the Jarl before?" Lucien asked her, surprised.

"Yes, when I infiltrated the Thalmor Embassy." Cura stated, and when Carcette glared at her in shock, she elaborated quickly to save her skin. "On Delphine's orders. She suspected the Thalmor to be connected to the Dragon resurgence in some way, but as it turns out, they know even less about it than we do. She was just being paranoid because of her past with them."

"And you met Jarl Idgrod there?" Lucien stated. "Then maybe we shouldn't trust her."

"This is her city, and she doesn't like the Thalmor either." Cura informed him. "She was secretive about that, but she opened up to me during the party. I trust her."

"Just be careful, Cura." Serana stated. "I don't have to tell you how dangerous it could be if she is in fact working against Skyrim. Maybe she could even be responsible for the evil in her city. Who knows?"

Carcette nodded. "Serana is right. We have no evidence for and against it. She could be a friend, or she could have you killed the moment you walk through that door. Tread lightly, Cura."

Cura walked to the door of Highmoon Hall and slowly pushed it open.

Carcette pet Stendarr's Little Helper, and told him to wait next to the steps, as she was certain the Jarl wouldn't want a Dog inside her hall.

Jarl Idgrod sat upon the throne and seemed to be meditating in place. The elder woman's eyes were closed, and she appeared to be at peace while she contemplated the cosmos above. She silently seemed to murmur things, but from the distance, they were inaudible.

Her housecarl, a large Nord man with dirty blonde hair in studded armour approached Cura from across the Hall. "You will not disrespect Jarl Idgrod while in this hall. Do we have an understanding?"

Cura took a step back to gain some space and looked affronted. "Why would I disrespect her?" It wasn't so hard to imagine Idgrod receiving visions and signs, as the Keeper had her prophetic dream, Moric had one, Esbern, and Florentius himself speaks to Arkay on a daily basis. Heck, Cura herself has spoken to Daedra one-on-one quite a number of times. Idgrod being spoken to by the Divines was not as strange a concept as they think it is.

"It's no secret that Jarl Igrod is... different. It's also no secret that there are rumors about her and her... visions." the Housecarl lowered his voice. "I won't repeat them, and I won't allow them to be spread under this roof. Now, you go about your business."

Cura walked around him, and the rest of her party followed. When she stepped closer to the forum, Jarl Idgrod opened her eyes and left her trance.

"So, life has brought you to Morthal, and to me. What purpose this serves, we will no doubt see. Welcome." Idgrod greeted Cura as she approached the throne. "It has been quite many moons since last we spoke, you under the guise of a Thalmor guest. I trust your mission went well, as you are still among the living, which is good."

"It's nice to see you again, Jarl Idgrod." Cura bowed her head with respect.

"You're the Jarl?" Lucien asked, surprised by the old woman before him. He's heard of Idgrod Ravencrone, but he never imagined her to look like this.

"In Morthal, there is little to rule. But there is much to teach. And so, I am Jarl." Jarl Idgrod stated. "All this talk of rebellion and strife. Too many are focused on what might be instead of what is. It tires me to talk about it."

"I hear you want someone to look into that house fire." Cura gestured towards the dilapidated building next door through the wall.

"Hroggar's house fire? He lost his wife and daughter in the blaze. My people believe it to be cursed now. Who am I to gainsay them?" Idgrod shrugged.

Carcette decided to inquire further, stepping up to the forum. "What does Hroggar claim to have happened?"

Idgrod responded casually. "Hroggar blames his wife for spilling bear fat in the fire. Many folk think he set the fire himself." She had no reason to determine the case one way or the other, and thus presented the facts as two equal truths and two qual falsehoods in tandem.

"Why would a man burn his wife and child alive?" Lucien asked, finding the matter to be impossible. "It makes no sense!"

Serana interjected. "It makes more sense than you'd think."

"Lust can make a man do the unthinkable." Idgrod assured him. "The ashes were still warm when he pledged himself to Alva."

"That sells it." Cura confirmed. "He hasn't been arrested yet?"

"On rumor and gossip? No." Idgrod explained. "But you strangers might find the truth for us. Sift through the ashes that others are too fearful to touch. See what they tell you. Should you prove him guilty or innocent, I will reward you."

"All right. It shall be done." Cura bowed respectfully. "I aim to get to the bottom of this."

"May Stendarr guide and protect you, Vigilant Dragonborn." Idgrod imparted a blessing upon her.

When the group exited the Highmoon Hall, Stendarr's Little Helper had wandered off again. Lucien called attention to it, and Carcette began to look around,

"Oh, where is that stupid dog now?" Serana pouted impatiently. "We don't have time for..."

Carcette located him quickly, back inside the ruins of Hroggar's house, but he was silent and slobbering, emitting small squeaks.

"Who's there?" A small, high-pitched voice asked.

As the group moved in closer, they saw what the dog had seen; the ghost of a little Nord girl in the west corner of the house.

Lucien gasped and nearly fell backwards. "I-it is cursed! Yipes!" He jumped around Cura and clung around her shoulders, peeking his head out to see.

"Another one for the scrapbook." Serana sneered smugly.

Carcette looked at the child sorrowfully, immediately discerning who this restless spirit was.

Cura was sympathetic, herself, but she tried to keep a friendly face for the little girl. Even if she was a ghost, she was still a frightened child who lost her life at her own father's hands in a blazing inferno, potentially. The Breton pulled down her hood and went down on one knee, to the girl's level. "Who are you?" She asked, needing confirmation.

"Helgi. My father says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." The little girl stated innocently. "Are you a stranger?"

Cura was saddened by her correct assumption. "Well... I'm Cura. It's nice to meet you, Helgi." She spoke softly. "It's okay; I'm a friend. I... know your father." She lied but hoped it would give the girl ease of heart.

"You know him?" Helgi asked. "He made my favourite dolly, but I can't find her."

Cura couldn't look the spectral child in the eye; it was too painful.

"Are you sure you're not a stranger?" Helgi asked.

Cura shook her head. "No, I promise I'm a friend. I want to help you. Do you know what happened to your house?"

"The smoke woke me up. I was hot and I was scared, so I hid." Helgi recounted the tale, and her voice trembled. "Then it got cold and dark. I'm not scared anymore."

Carcete placed a hand on her brow and turned her face. Death. The girl was describing her death. Poor child.

Helgi continued. "But I'm lonely. Will you play with me?"

"No, Candle! Don't do it! They always say that before dragging you off into a dark dimension of death!" Lucien clenched his face as it contorted in horror.

Cura held up a hand to try and calm him, before turning back to the ghostly girl. "If I do, will you tell me who set the fire?"

Helgi nodded. "Okay! Let's play hide and see. You find me and I'll tell you."

"That's fair." Cura smiled.

"We have to wait for nighttime though. The other one is playing too, and she can't come out until then." Helgi informed them of a sudden twist.

"The other one? What do you mean?" Cura asked.

"I can't tell you. She might hear me. She's so close." Helgi turned and looked to Carcette when she said this, and she looked afraid of the vampiric Breton momentarily, but it quickly subsided. She then looked to Cura. "If you can find me first, I can tell you."

Before Cura could agree, the girl vanished into the sunlight, prompting Stendarr's Little Helper to bark and pant.

"We'll have to wait until night." Cura regretfully informed her friends. "It's 1 o'clock right now, so we have some time to kill."

"Let's move faster. The sun is... it's not great for my skin, if you know what I mean." Serana stated.

"I could use a rest, too." Lucien expressed. "I guess we'll go to the Inn..."

Just then, a disheveled man walked past them and glared at the burnt house, entranced.

Cura surmised who he was by his reaction. "Excuse me... are you Hroggar?"

The man flinched, and looked upon Cura with sunken, glazed eyes. He was indeed him. "I... I'm not one for talk. Try to keep to myself." Hroggar sunk his head between his shoulders. "I just try and do my job, and not to think about what's happened. Try to find what happiness I can."

"Your house is haunted; just thought you should know that." Lucien remarked.

"Ignore the talk of spirits and creatures and such. It's just superstition." Hroggar dismissed it. "There's enough real troubles in the world without making new ones up."

Carcette stared into his eyes as he walked past her, and she addressed her protege. "Did you notice, Cura? His eyes?"

"The man is non compos mentis, you mean?" Lucien remarked on the unsettling manner of which Hroggar responded.

"He's lost his mind." Cura noted the vacancy in his expression, corroborating Lucien's claim.

Serana nodded slowly. "If by 'lost his mind', you mean 'under Vampiric Seduction', then yeah, I guess you could say that."

Carcette was unimpressed. "I can't believe I pulled the Vigilants out of here last year... this is my fault. I was too hasty to close the investigation. I should have listened to Celann. That poor little girl..." Her sorrow was visible when it all began to fall in place.

Cura was stunned and needed to ask. "Wait... was that what you were arguing about when he left?'

Carcette nodded sadly and placed her hand on her forehead shamefully. "I had the Vigilants in the area move onwards to the Reach instead... I was so certain the Forsworn were the biggest problem..."

"Celann wasn't so sure." Cura surmised.

"He thought I was looking in the dark in all the wrong places. He said that vampires were growing bolder." Carcette admitted. "He was adamant that a vampire was rooted here, in Morthal somewhere. He was right, evidently."

"What's done is done." Serana told her. "There's no way you could have predicted it; don't beat yourself up over it."

Carcette still felt deep regret for not having listened, as it could have made a difference regardless.

Eventually, Lucien and Serana both made way to the Inn, and Carcette elected to remain with Cura.

They decided to traverse the town a while, perhaps to find some clues.

A little Nord boy with brown hair in a red tunic approached Cura. "You're a traveller, right? Have you seen my mother? I'm still waiting for her to come home." He tugged on her robe. Upon closer inspection, Cura could notice small Bretonic features in his face, like his browline and nose.

Cura gently pat the boy on the head. "No, I haven't. Or... I'm not sure. Can you describe her?"

"She's got brown hair, and she's around your height." He tried his best to describe his mother. "Her name is Laelette; have you heard of her?"

Cura and Carcette exchanged looks. "Do you..." Cura asked her mentor, and Carcette shook her head.

"I don't know her." Carcette said. "The only other Bretons I knew directly here in Skyrim were Moric Sidrey, Madena, Mirabelle Ervine and Colette Marence."

Cura clicked her tongue. "Then... no. We've never met her." She expressed regretfully.

The boy crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Papa says that I shouldn't keep waiting. Why not? Mama has to come home some time."

"Virkmund! You leave them alone!" the blonde man in the green tunic rushed over and pulled his son back by the back of his collar. "Stop it! I already told you, she's not coming home!"

"Easy!" Carcette chastised the man, causing him to release his grip on his son.

"I saw you arguing with that man before." Cura told him.

"Thonnir. I'm just a poor man trying to make a living. I'd leave Morthal were it in my power." the man told her. "This damned war has cost us... me... everything."

"Oh, no... did you lose someone close?" Cura asked.

"My wife Laelette left to join the Stormcloaks one night. Hasn't been seen for a while. She just vanished without a trace." Thonnir expressed his worry. "Some say the swamp took her. Part of me wishes it were that simple."

Laelette? Was she a... Why would a High Rock Breton join the Stormcloaks? Cura wondered. After all, the Stormcloaks weren't exactly known to be very tolerant of people who weren't Nords, but then she supposed there were nice folk amidst their ranks, too, having known Thorald for a short time, and remembering Ralof It was more complicated than that.

"Who are the Stormcloaks, and why would mama want to spend time with them instead of me?" Virkmund looked down sadly.

Cura had no real answer to give the poor boy, but she did her best to try and brighten things. "Maybe she believes that by doing that she'll make Skyrim safer for you.''

Thonnir knew that the kind words were just speculative and hollow, but he decided to let the boy believe them for his own good.

"I miss Helgi, too." Virkmund said passively. "This town sucks."

"Virkmund, we don't talk about Helgi." Thonnir said sternly. "You still have Agni and Joric to play with." He reminded his son, who responded with a disheartened nod.

"I just wish everyone would stop leaving me..." the little boy looked down to the floor sadly.

Cura felt that.

Her heart went out to the poor boy, and she wished there was a way she could help him and his father.

"If I do see your mother, I'll tell her that you love her and miss her very much." Cura promised, hoping herself that Laelette was still alive for the child's sake.

"Thanks, lady!" Virkmund expressed as he continued to run along and play with other kids who were running by.

Carcette turned to face Cura. "That was very kind of you, Cura. Very tactful."

"I hate to see children suffer..." Cura stated. "Innocence needs to be protected."

Without even realizing it, she had just poured out her heart.

Carcette agreed as she stroked Stendarr's Little Helper behind his left ear. "And now you've finally come to my end of the spectrum, Cura."

"What do you mean?" the young Half-Elf was confused by her assertion.

"You're a leader within a larger organization who has to ensure that the populace is protected and are responsible for those in your care." Carcette explained. "You've taken a big step in the direction of leadership... you've discovered why you fight. You've learned much about the value of life and why we do what we must... I only wish I weren't blind to it."

Cura paused to reflect on her words and realized that it was true. She had a cause to rally around, and it wasn't just due to ancient texts, or goading from superiors for a change. It was heartfelt sentiment that was driving her to want to protect the people of Skyrim.

The pair continued about the town from there, talking more about the current developments in their lives, sharing the horrors and glories of recent battles when a Redguard sorcerer crossed their path.

His eyes were dark and sullen; he had clearly experienced untold horrors and seen things which people ought not.

Cura couldn't help but stare at him, mistaking him for a vampire momentarily.

"You are new to Morthal. We have not spoken before. This is interesting." The sorcerer narrowed his eyes. "If you stand before me to accuse me of sacrificing children, or eating the hearts of the dead, you may save your breath. Beyond that I seek only to be left alone to pursue my research."

"Why would I accuse you of such a thing?" Cura asked before realizing that she was a Vigilant of Stendarr.

"The people of Morthal would much rather weave their own horrid tales about my life than simply ask me for the truth. If they choose to fear me in their ignorance, that is their choice. But it will not change what is true." the mage stated.

"Well... I didn't think any of those things." Cura confessed the truth. "I'm just walking the town, doing an investigation with my allies. I'm Vigilant Cura."

"Hmph. I thought you all swore off Morthal for good." the wizard crossed his arms. "I'm Falion, by the way."

"So, this is Falion." Carcette mused. "I've heard about him. He was expelled from the College of Winterhold, for Necromancy." She spoke with a teaspoon of venom, to which Falion caught on immediately.

"My talents are much needed here, in order to keep Morthal... safe." Falion seemed to stare into Carcette's corrupt form."Morthal is a troubled place, and it is my duty to see it rest in peace."

"To see it rest in peace? Then you know-" before Cura could continue, he glared at Carcette.

The wizard scratched his chin. "It is a curious thing, to see a Vigilant of Stendarr accompanying a creature of the night during the day..." He walked up closer to Cura and closed in on her personal space. He quickly grabbed her face by both cheeks and stared into her eyes, adjusting her face from different angles. "Hmm... interesting... so you're going along with her willingly... just what are you planning to do here?"

Carcette's jaw hung open defensively, revealing her fangs passively. "How dare you insinuate such a thing!"

"I guess this is what dealing with the Vigil must feel like to an outsider." Cura mused humorously.

"You... you know a lot about Vampires, don't you?" Cura asked.

"I know many things." Falon began. "I have studied things beyond the reach of most humans, traveled the Oblivion planes, seen things one should not see. I have met Daedra and Dwemer and everything in between and I know enough to see a vampire where others would see a man."

"Then you should join the Dawnguard!" Cura extended the offer. "We could use somebody like you!"

Falion seemed to think about it for a moment; even consider it; but then his cold eyes perked up and he chuckled mildly. "Thank you for the offer, but I don't think I would belong among your ranks, under your leader. No offense intended." He then returned to Carcette. "I met several of your kind during my studies of life-extending magics. I even considered becoming a vampire myself. In the end, vampirism would endanger my ward Agni which would defeat the intended purpose."

"Agni?" Cura asked.

"Agni!" Falion called out as the group of children who were playing tag entered the view nearby. A little brunette Nord girl in a red dress hurried over, breaking away from Virkmund and the other children to speak with Falion. When she approached, Falion smiled to her. "Have you been working on your concentration?"

Agni nodded enthusiastically. "Yes sir, I have."

Falion was contented. "Good. Concentration is paramount when dealing with magical forces."

Per usual fashion, the girl had to ask. "Why?"

Falion explained a lesson that Carcette once taught Cura in her youth, bringing back some nostalgic memories. "Because an unfocused mind will almost certainly be obliterated. Destroyed by the forces you attempt to control and yield."

Agni seemed a little alarmed by the notion, much as Cura was in her youth. "Oh."

Falion reassured his pupil. "Have no fear. I believe it is within you to excel in your studies. But you must learn to concentrate!"

Agni waved a hand. "Yes, sir."

Cura decided to add something in. "Using magic is like tapping into your own heart; feeling the rhythm is key. Especially in the school of Restoration."

"You do Restoration? Pfft. Laaaame." Agni scoffed as she returned to playing with her friends, leaving Cura dejected.

"Lame?" Cura was taken aback. "The nerve!"

"People greatly underestimate the Restoration School. Always have." Carcette stated. "It drove Colette up a wall. Oddly enough, I don't think she even recovered."

Falion gave Cura a half-bow. "If you'll excuse me, I have affairs to deal with. Good day."

"Good day to you as well, Falion." Cura responded in kind as she saw him walk further down and over the bridge of town, disappearing into the marsh.

He was a strange man indeed, but Cura had the feeling that he was truthful when he claimed he was trying to protect the town. She would do her part, as well.

Meanwhile at the Moorside Inn, Serana fell onto one of the beds in the eastern room, and Lucien sat on the chair in the same rented room.

Lucien opened the book that he laid on the endtable in the room when he had gone to buy a Mead. 'Immortal Blood', it was titled. He felt it was thematicaally perfect for the location, abd was glad he brought it from Fort Dawnguard. He only kicked himself for not brining 'Palla, Volume 1' so he could finish it.

When he cracked open the book, it was as if he snapped an actual spine, having to wrest it open with a virulent crack. Dust settled on his lap from within its dry, yellowing pages. He began to study the words within the text. If he had to travel with vampires, it wouldn't hurt to learn a little more about them from a safe distance, could it?

"The moons and stars were hidden from sight, making that particular quiet night especially dark. The town guard had to carry torches to make their rounds; but the man who came to call at my chapel carried no light with him. I came to learn that Movarth Piquine could see in the dark almost as well as the light - an excellent talent, considering his interests were exclusively nocturnal.

One of my acolytes brought him to me, and from the look of him, I at first thought he was in need of healing. He was pale to the point of opalescence with a face that looked like it had once been very handsome before some unspeakable suffering. The dark circles under his eyes bespoke exhaustion, but the eyes themselves were alert, intense, almost insane.

He quickly dismissed my notion that he himself was ill, though he did want to discuss a specific disease.

"Vampirism," he said, and then paused at my quizzical look. "I was told that you were someone I should seek out for help understanding it."

"Who told you that?" I asked with a smile.

"Tissina Gray."

I immediately remembered her. A brave, beautiful knight who had needed my assistance separating fact from fiction on the subject of the vampire. It had been two years, and I had never heard whether my advice had proved effective.

"You've spoken to her? How is her ladyship?" I asked.

"Dead," Movarth replied coldly, and then, responding to my shock, he added to perhaps soften the blow. "She said your advice was invaluable, at least for the one vampire. When last I talked to her, she was tracking another. It killed her."

"Then the advice I gave her was not enough," I sighed. "Why do you think it would be enough for you?"

"I was a teacher once myself, years ago," he said. "Not in a university. A trainer in the Fighters Guild. But I know that if a student doesn't ask the right questions, the teacher cannot be responsible for his failure. I intend to ask you the right questions."

And that he did. For hours, he asked questions and I answered what I could, but he never volunteered any information about himself. He never smiled. He only studied me with those intense eyes of his, committing every word I said to memory.

Finally, I turned the questioning around. "You said you were a trainer at the Fighters Guild. Are you on an assignment for them?"

"No," he said curtly, and finally I could detect some weariness in those feverish eyes of his. "I would like to continue this tomorrow night, if I could. I need to get some sleep and absorb this."

"You sleep during the day," I smiled.

To my surprise, he returned the smile, though it was more of a grimace. "When tracking your prey, you adapt their habits."

The next day, he did return with more questions, these ones very specific. He wanted to know about the vampires of eastern Skyrim. I told him about the most powerful tribe, the Volkihar Clan, paranoid and cruel, whose very breath could freeze their victims' blood in the veins. I explained to him how they lived beneath the ice of remote and haunted lakes, never venturing into the world of men except to feed.

Movarth Piquine listened carefully, and asked more questions into the night, until at last he was ready to leave.

"I will not see you for a few days," he said. "But I will return, and tell you how helpful your information has been."

True to his word, the man returned to my chapel shortly after midnight four days later. There was a fresh scar on his cheek, but he was smiling that grim but satisfied smile of his.

"Your advice helped me very much," he said. "But you should know that the Volkihar have an additional ability you didn't mention. They can reach through the ice of their lakes without breaking it. It was quite a nasty surprise, being grabbed from below without any warning."

"How remarkable," I said with a laugh. "And terrifying. You're lucky you survived."

"I don't believe in luck. I believe in knowledge and training. Your information helped me, and my skill at melee combat sealed the bloodsucker's fate. I've never believed in weaponry of any kind. Too many unknowns. Even the best swordsmith has created a flawed blade, but you know what your body is capable of. I know I can land a thousand blows without losing my balance, provided I get the first strike."

"The first strike?" I murmured. "So you must never be surprised."

"That is why I came to you," said Movarth. "You know more than anyone alive about these monsters, in all their cursed varieties across the land. Now you must tell me about the vampires of northern Valenwood."

I did as he asked, and once again, his questions taxed my knowledge. There were many tribes to cover. The Bonsamu who were indistinguishable from Bosmer except when seen by candlelight. The Keerilth who could disintegrate into mist. The Yekef who swallowed men whole. The dread Telboth who preyed on children, eventually taking their place in the family, waiting patiently for years before murdering them all in their unnatural hunger.

Once again, he bade me farewell, promising to return in a few weeks, and once again, he returned as he said, just after midnight. This time, Movarth had no fresh scars, but he again had new information.

"You were wrong about the Keerilth being unable to vaporize when pushed underwater," he said, patting my shoulder fondly. "Fortunately, they cannot travel far in their mist form, and I was able to track it down."

"It must have surprised it fearfully. Your field knowledge is becoming impressive," I said. "I should have had an acolyte like you decades ago."

"Now, tell me," he said. "Of the vampires of Cyrodiil."

I told him what I could. There was but one tribe in Cyrodiil, a powerful clan who had ousted all other competitors, much like the Imperials themselves had done. Their true name was unknown, lost in history, but they were experts at concealment. If they kept themselves well-fed, they were indistinguishable from living persons. They were cultured, more civilized than the vampires of the provinces, preferring to feed on victims while they were asleep, unaware.

"They will be difficult to surprise," Movarth frowned. "But I will seek one out, and tell you what I learn. And then you will tell me of the vampires of High Rock, and Hammerfell, and Elsweyr, and Black Marsh, and Morrowind, and the Summerset Isles, yes?"

I nodded, knowing then that this was a man on an eternal quest. He wouldn't be satisfied with but the barest hint of how things were. He needed to know it all.

He did not return for a month, and on the night that he did, I could see his frustration and despair, though there were no lights burning in my chapel.

"I failed," he said, as I lit a candle. "You were right. I could not find a single one."

I brought the light up to my face and smiled. He was surprised, even stunned by the pallor of my flesh, the dark hunger in my ageless eyes, and the teeth. Oh, yes, I think the teeth definitely surprised the man who could not afford to be surprised.

"I haven't fed in seventy-two hours," I explained, as I fell on him. He did not land the first blow or the last."

"Fascinating." Lucien mused as he closed the book. "So many different kinds of vampires exist. Psst! Hey, Serana!" He called out to the vampiress.

Serana slowly opened her eyes and levitated upwards into a standing position, much as an undead rising from their coffin. "What is it?"

Lucien went pale with mild shock for a moment before catching himself. "It... might sound like an odd question I'm about to ask you, but... do you breathe underwater?"

Serana furrowed her brows. "I could. Why?"

"Is it true that you could pull people through the ice into the frozen lakes?" Lucien continued. "I need to know for... scientific purposes."

"Don't worry, you can go ice skating with me around." Serana rolled her eyes. "I'm not that brutal."

"Just checking." Lucien sat upright in his chair and crossed his legs anxiously, laying his next book on his lap.

"Good. Can I go back to sleep now?" Serana asked, mildly irritated.

"Yes! Yes, go right ahead!" Lucien pointed towards the bed, and she shook her head with mild disapproval as she slowly returned to a laying position.

A few minutes passed when Lucien piped up again. "Er..."

Serana emitted a low growl, which told him everything he needed to know. "Silence, yes, silence." He peeped, opening his book again.

Back at Highmoon Hall, Cura hastened to report her current findings to Jarl Idgrod.

Gorm and Idgrod appeared to be sharing a conversation when she entered.

Gorm held a look of concern on his face. "How are you feeling, Jarl Idgrod?"

Jarl Idgrod explained her case. "The visions continue to hold me in balance, Gorm."

"So, the same then." the Housecarl was clearly growing tired of the Jarl's eccentrics as well.

Regardless, Jarl Idgrod attempted to reassure him. "Do not worry, my friend. All is well."

Cura stepped up to the forum and bowed respectfully. "My Jarl."

"Ah, Stendarr's Dragon returns." Jarl Idgrod expressed. "I trust you have news for me."

Cura slowly lifted herself up. "Yes. I met the little girl's spirit... inside of the ruins of the house. Stendarr's Little Helper led us to her." She pointed at the husky, who followed them inside.

"Ah, yes. Animals have a way with the world of the beyond." Idgrod explained. "They have keen perception and eyes that see and ears that hear, while we mortals have lost that ability."

"Helgi's ghost wants me to find her tonight. I'm not sure where I should even look. I have to find her before someone else." Cura stated.

"The spirit world is strong in this place. Look to the graveyard. That is where you'll find her." Jarl Idgrod told her without hesitation after getting a feel from the air.

Of course. Cura nearly facepalmed at the simplicity of it. "All right. Thank you, my Jarl."

"Divines keep you." Jarl Idgrod dismissed her.

Cura and Carcette left with Stendarr's Little Helper and looked to the sun in the sky. The former Keeper insisted they go indoors. "I'm going to rest for a while... until night."

"Of course." Cura was all right with that. "I'll kill some time until nightfall. Maybe I'll fish for a while at the docks."

"All right, I'll see you tonight." Carcette assured her as she left her. After a few steps, she turned around. "I am proud of you, you know."

After a moment of unrequited silence, Carcette continued towards the Inn with the dog, and Cura smiled softly before heading towards the docks next to the Alchemist's shop.