*NEW VOLKIHAR*
(FORMERLY DEEP FOLK CROSSING)
THE REACH
VODAHMIN COVENANT

"Have you made a connection with Nchuand-Zel yet?" Tala Niwot asked, looking at the work crews carrying baskets of earth and stone up from the cavern. Those were bound for the construction zones on the newly-constructed outer walls. The walls around the ancient Dwemer ruin were going up fast; much faster than Tala had thought possible. But then again, there were hundreds of Altmer hands to move rock and carve stone, to say nothing of the paid laborers lending their skill and expertise to the project.

"Not yet," confessed Lady Valerica. "We have been focusing more on expanding and reopening the ancient chambers first, hoping to find a preexisting tunnel, perhaps."

Lord Vighar shifted, his face hidden by the Dragon Priest mask of Ahzidal.

"I have slave crews working from Nchudand-Zel's northernmost tunnels, my queen," he stated. "If we can connect tunnels between here and the Understone Keep…"

"We can move troops, supplies, and reinforcements from one side of the Reach to the other," nodded Tala. "And how is the state of the Redlines Wine?"

"Carefully rationed," Serana answered, "we currently have a six-month store in the cellars. Every slave donates two pints of blood every eight weeks, rotating in crews, as you ordered."

"A drained slave can give no more work or blood," Valerica nodded approvingly. "That is something Harkon could never grasp. Giving the chattel sufficient time to recover, rather than just butchering it like an ox, gives us both a source of sustenance, and an extra hand for the work."

"The rest of the coven is making the transition from Volkihar Castle well?" Tala asked, and Serana and her mother nodded.

"Father's ghost was a little too present in those walls," Tala's lover shook her head.

"Agreed," Valerica nodded again, "If the Nords want that decrepit fortress, they are welcome to it."

"I think it's more that they didn't want us to have it," Vighar chuckled, "Rather than any great desire to have a castle in the north of Solitude."

"They have yet to place any sort of garrison there," Tala shrugged. "I'm pretty sure poor little Buffy took one look at the place, and then decided to try and burn the place down."

"My queen?"

All eyes turned towards Skoberth Black-song, who bowed deeply.

"Yes?" Tala murmured.

"He is here."

"Oh," Tala raised her eyebrows in remembrance. "Show him up at once."

"As you command."

A single figure approached the quartet standing on the balcony overlooking the sprawling worksite. Girolamo was one of the eldest of the Altmer taken captive from Alinor. The robe he wore was plain-looking, but also well-made and serviceable.

"Queen Tala," he bowed, "Thank you for seeing me."

His tone, while respectful, was devoid of any self-deprecating scraping or groveling, causing Tala's opinion of him to increase considerably, and she gave the barest of nods in acknowledgement

"Elder Girolamo," she said, "How are your people faring? Are any of them being mistreated or misused?"

"We are… as comfortable as our circumstances may allow," he answered, choosing his words carefully. Potema's cruel sense of humor curled Tala's lips upward. The poor mer was the chosen representative of a slave race, standing before the instrument of his people's enslavement and capture, the looter, sacker, and invader of his homeland.

And in the middle of a vampire fortress, no less, the Wolf Queen chuckled from the depths of Tala's mind. The ring she wore on her left finger was heavily runed in Illusion spells, concealing the blue/green change between Tala' s and Potema's control. After all, as far as the rest of Tamriel knew, Potema Septim was dead and exiled to the Soul Cairn.

"Speak then, Elder, and tell me your petition," she said slowly, drawing herself up as regally as she could. The Altmer bowed again, and then slowly went to both knees.

"My queen," he began, "It has now been five years since… we were taken in the war. Five years we have toiled and worked hard to repay your… mercy."

He paused, trying to gauge the reactions on the faces before him, but by the look on his face, he gleaned nothing from the blank stares given him. From the corner of her eye, Tala could see Serana take pity on the poor man and give him a ghost of a smile and an encouraging nod.

"There are many here among your… servants, that would bring more gold and treasure into their queen's treasury, if the way is made available to them," Girolamo continued.

"Oh, very well said," Tala chuckled, lifting her hands to clap softly. "The offer is intriguing to say the least. And tell me Girolamo: how would Altmer slaves presume to do so?"

"There are many here from prominent families, my queen," the elder said softly. "Many of whom have relatives who might still be on the Summerset Isle. If the queen's Grace allows, we would ask leave only to write to the survivors on Alinor, to see if there are those who may have survived the… most recent and lamentable hostilities."

"To what end?"

"Ransom, my queen," he answered without missing a beat. "That those who have the means may be reunited with their families, after paying a sum that might be acceptable in your eyes."

All eyes turned back to Tala, who stood with her hands on her hips, lips pursed in thought.

"There is merit in your suggestion," Tala nodded slowly. "And such decisions cannot be made overnight. But then again," she continued quickly as Girolamo's face fell, "A message cannot reach the Summerset Isle and back again overnight either."

She paused again, and then nodded in a decisive gesture.

"Very well, Girolamo. Have those that wish draft documents for their friends or families in Summerset Isle and deliver them to their overseers within a fortnight. I will ensure, on my word as a sovereign, that they are taken by ship to nearest Dominion harbor. As replies and offers of ransom return to Markarth, we will speak again."

The Altmer beamed happiness, relief, and joy as he bowed low, this time prostrating himself entirely on the floor.

"Thank you, my queen," he half-sobbed. "In the meantime, you will find no more motivated or loyal workers, I swear by the Eight."

Tala nodded her head and then made a shooing gesture to give the mer leave to go. He did, leaving in a half-run to deliver the good news to his fellow expatriates.

"That was neatly done, my love," Serana purred in her ear. "Though I wonder if the consequences would have been if you had not agreed to their requests."

"Slaves are, at best, middling workers," Tala nodded. "A paid laborer will accomplish twice the work in a day, as he is motivated to better his own lot by working longer and better for more pay. Slaves, on the other hand, have no such motivation to help their masters prosper, as that prosperity comes at the cost of their own liberties. I'm just giving them…"

"Hope," Lady Valerica grinned. "Rekindling the dream that one day they will survive their present circumstances to return home."

Tala was about to answer when suddenly there came a shout from the half-finished gate sentries, and the sharp, piercing cry of a horse's whinny split the air. The horse in question was blowing hard, sweat streaking in white foam down its body, and its rider looked just as haggard. He wore the red sash of a messenger, and Tala waved impatiently for him to be allowed through, then turned and made her way down the walkway to the courtyard, meeting the Foresworn halfway. The boy, for that was certainly what he was, swayed on his feet and the going to one knee was slightly more than a gesture of deep respect.

"High Mother," he panted, and he lifted a sealed tube with both hands, only the faintest quiver betraying his sheer exhaustion. "From Warden Borkul; he said to… he said that he is moving north as soon as he can muster his forces."

Tala glanced at the message tube, noting with a smile that a single black hair was still trapped in the sealed wax. It was a simple device, sure enough, but it was sufficient to show that no hand had tampered with the message since it had left the big Orc's hand. She tore it free and pulled the paper from the confines of the tube. The scrawl on the page wasn't Borkul's, she noticed, but the words were enough to send a cold chill down her spine:

Dawnguard moving in force towards Vodahmin border, in defiance of the High King's commands. They stopped overnight, camping outside of Morthal. Jarl Idgrod the Younger refused to join their cause directly, but did allow them to recruit from Haafingar Hold, and many fighters joined their ranks.
I estimate their current numbers at three hundred infantry, sixty light horse, thirty heavy horse, and eighty archers.
Be advised: more are coming in every day.

Force commanded by Isran the Blessed directly.

Raerek the Exile seen at the head of a company bearing the ram's head sigil of Old Markarth, Faleen Dark-sword in attendance. Believe him to be the financer of the Dawnguard's sudden movements.

The tavern is full of soldiers saying that the "Army of the Dawn" intends to recruit at Solitude, and then move towards the vicinity of Dragon Bridge. Believed intended target to be New Volkihar, and the remnants of the vampire clan there.

-L

Tala smiled despite the grave news. That wench Laelette had, predictably, been allowed to return to her family, and had even been welcomed back by her neighbors after undergoing Falion's "cure" for her vampiric condition. Since that time, she had been an invaluable source of information from Skyrim in general, and Haafingar in particular. Over the past five years, many such individuals had been "rescued" from the vampires and were now sending a constant stream of information back to the Vodahmin Covenant.

"What is your name?" Tala asked the messenger, turning back to matters immediately at hand.

"Halfeth, son of Hengist, my queen," the boy answered, straightening slightly in pride.

"You have served the Covenant and your queen well, Helfeth," Tala grinned down at him, causing a blush to spread across his cheeks. "Rest yourself and your mount. I have other messengers to bear Warden Borkul's orders back."

"To hear is to obey," the boy answered, rising to his feet. Tala nodded in added approval as the boy took the reins of his steed, leading it towards the stables. A good soldier made sure his horse was fed and rested, before following suit himself.

"Isran has apparently grown weary of the High King's leash," she said in a low voice to Serana, passing the letter to Vighar and Valerica. "He's got Raerek backing him financially, and they're actively recruiting an army."

"So it is war," Vighar rumbled softly.

"Can we not appeal to the Dragonborn?" Valerica asked, furrowing her brow. "Convince him to intervene, perhaps even stop this army before they reach the border? Surely they would not lift arms against their own High King?"

"By the looks of things, and reading between the lines," Serana answered, looking at the paper herself now, "Isran and Raerek most likely are recruiting an army of 'vampire hunters', rather than setting themselves up as invaders of the Reach. That way, King Llewellyn can't strictly forbid them from doing anything, due to the anti-Daedric laws the Empire has enacted. He and the Jarls are not doing anything to directly support them, but they apparently aren't doing anything to directly forbid them, either."

"Not if the High Asshole makes it clear that they're crossing the border as private citizens," Tala retorted, using one of her favorite descriptors of Skyrim's High King. "Then he gets the best of both worlds: if we slaughter them, then we've rid him of troublesome, warmongering subjects. If they somehow succeed in taking New Volkihar, he's not going to weep over more dead vampires."

"Plus, that would give Raerek a foothold from which to launch an attack to reclaim his nephew's seat in Markarth," nodded Valerica. "Poor, deluded fool."

"He's a fool with gold and now, an army to support his delusions," Tala replied. "That makes him a dangerous sort of fool. Vighar?"

"I can have my clan mobilized within a few days," the one-time jarl answered. "If it is vampires these bastards wish to fight, then by Bal, it's vampires they'll get. I'll send word to Venarus Vulpin and his band at Karthwasten, too."

"Send riders back to Icando and Kaie at Markarth," Tala rattled off to Skoberth, nodding in agreement to the Lord of the Undercity's suggestions. "And send a raven to Orsinium. Burguk is always looking for any opportunity for another fight."

The half-finished fortress exploded in redoubled activity as messengers saddled their mounts and warriors scrambled to re-secure their gear.

"Serana, I need you at Bruca's Leap," Tala continued. "Get everything ready for our arrival. I'm ordering everyone to muster there for our main camp. Once that's done, we'll be in a position to shift in response to whatever the Dawnguard attempt."

"It will be done… my queen," Serana answered, stealing a quick kiss from her lover before turning back towards her own quarters to prepare her things. Tala looked around at the bustle around her, feeling a hand go towards the Rose, kept constantly at the small of her back.

"So… five years of peace and preparation," she said softly, her words lost in the cacophony of noise. "It was nice while it lasted, but so it ends…"

"This is not an end, little Tala," Potema added, her wolfish grin growing on Tala's face. "It is the glorious beginning of the next stage of our plans…"

*DRAGON KEEP*
HELGEN
SKYRIM

"We crossed the border under cover of darkness, and then we made our way here."

Tullius looked across the table at Llewellyn Dragonborn, High King of Skyrim, who was staring intently at the crown on the table. The Jagged Crown he already wore was a stark contrast to the gilded Imperial crown. One was a helmet of war, the other was a gaudy symbol of authority. He reached slowly over, and tossed a scroll onto the table next to it. Tullius shot a look of question at Llewllyn before reaching to take it.

"That is an Imperial order from 'Emperor' Tiberius I, demanding that I turn you and the crown over to him, for judgement," the Dragonborn said calmly to his one-time superior officer. "Apparently, if I do so, he will allow me to remain High King of Skyrim."

"How very generous of him," Tullius smirked as he read the flowery language veiling the threat beneath. "And your answer?"

"I have sent no answer," Llewellyn replied, "Which is, of course, an answer in itself."

Esbern pushed himself back from the table. "I take it then," the old man sighed, "you mean to fight this… Tiberius Mede."

"Medeborn," Tullius hissed, "The fact that his mother was inconsiderate enough to get pregnant doesn't make him his father's heir."

"I was found by an orphanage in Riften, Tullius," Llewellyn interjected. "There's not a drop of royal blood in my veins, and yet you seem Oblivion-bent on making me Emperor."

"The fact that you are Dragonborn clearly shows that you are some sort of descendant of the Septim dynasty, Majesty," Esbern replied quickly.

Lewis Heron, from Dallas, Texas, only gave the Blades Commander a mirthless grin.

"Perhaps," was all he said aloud. "But the fact remains that I never wanted the Ruby Throne. But I will be damned before I turn over one of my oldest and dearest friends to some punk bastard who thinks he's Tiber Septim reborn."

"Then we must look to our defenses," General Rikke said, nodding at her former commander on the other end of the table. "The 9th legion is garrisoned in Bruma. I know their officers, I know their commanders. Arkay take me, I know their latrine attendants. I know they'll join us.

"Then write to them immediately, Rikke," Llewellyn nodded, "With the 9th and 12th with us, we'll have a good core around which to build an army."

"Send word to King Lleril Morvayn in Morrowind too, father," Prince Alesan added. His adopted father had begun more and more to include him in these Council meetings, and he was determined not to just sit silently. "He owes you, not only for his own life and hide but you championed their special allowance to worship Boethiah, Mephala, and Azura. He'll support you, without a doubt."

"He may be more concerned with the Argonians than coming west to help us," Sarai Gellarus stated grimly. "The remnants of the Dominion will support Tiberius, because they'll think he'll be easier to manipulate and control."

"And they'll be right," Tullius nodded in confirmation of the Arch-Mage's concerns. "Right now, I have no doubt that he's bartered away North Valenwood and Anequina in return for their own support. Or maybe he'll give Riverdale and High Chief Baajirra reassurances of their independence and get their support too."

"Galas will never side with anyone who has the Dominion's support," Sarai shook her head. "But I don't know about Baajirra. If North Valenwood is surrounded and threatened on all sides, I suppose Galas might not have a choice."

"Our list of allies grows thin," Llewellyn chuckled mirthlessly, and Sarai Gellarus shared his amusement at the refence only the two of them would understand.

"There is… another power that we could call upon," Commander Delphine said, speaking up for the first time. Only a momentary glance between them was needed for Llewellyn to understand who she meant.

"She never would agree to it," Sarai objected, "Especially if you don't stop Isran from invading her lands and attacking her vassals."

"We have little choice," Llewellyn replied, almost bitterly. "Without the Covenant, the harsh fact remains that we are outnumbered. If Black Marsh joins with Tiberius, and Kelan-Tel has every indication and reason to do so, then he'll be marching north into Morrowind, who isn't strong enough to stop them alone, especially if the Argonians are reinforced from Elsweyr."

Llewellyn sighed as he moved more pieces around the map of Tamriel that lay spread out on the table.

"That means I have to dispatch forces to help them, which leaves me facing the united powers of Valenwood, Cyrodiil, and Summerset Isle alone."

"Morvayn might be able to slow the Argonians down with the Dunmer Great Houses' levies," Rikke countered, but her expression was not hopeful. "He'll lose ground, certainly, but the lizards will begin to feel the pressure if he retreats into the Ashlands."

She gestured to the area of Morrowind devastated by the Red Mountain's eruption more than two hundred years ago, and still covered with ash thicker than many snowdrifts of Skyrim. In the two centuries since the Red Year, the Dunmer of Morrowind had adapted valiantly to the desolation of their homeland, but they were only just beginning to regain any sense of normalcy and prosperity. To ask them to abandon the territory they and their ancestors had shed blood, sweat, and tears to resettle… No.

"I will not desert my allies to rapine and ruin," Llewellyn Dragonborn shook his head decisively. He looked up at the woman who had been his lover since she had tumbled into this plane of existence… Shor and Ysgramor, had it been almost fifteen years ago now?

"Like it or not, we need Tala Niwot and her Vodahmin Covenant."

Sarai Gellarus looked down and absent-mindedly fiddled with an icon on the northern-most border of Skyrim.

"And the only thing that might possibly stand in the way of such an alliance is Isran and his 'Army of the Dawn.'"

Author's Note:

The plot thickens.
In the game of politics and thrones, there are very few "good guys" and very few "bad guys." In any video game or movie, Isran's "Army of the Dawn" would be the "good guys", marching to free slaves from their vampiric masters.

In real life, on the other hand, it's hardly so simple. And sometimes, as in dear Lewis' case, the "bad guys" are exactly what's needed.

As always, please leave your thoughts/suggestions/constructive criticisms in the reviews below, even if it's a simple "Good job, I enjoyed it."

Rock On, my friends!

-Tusken1602

Reviewer Responses:

siddharth1998m, NotRevan – Tala and the Dragonborn? Probably not. POTEMA and the Dragonborn? Absolutely.

Shadow Pegasus, HeWhoMustNotBeTamed, JimmyHall24, Dumnezeu, The Perpetual Shadow, Umbrardor – I'm trying to set up a historical parallel to Alexander the Great's kingdom fracturing after his death. How successfully I do that, really, is up to you.

GalacticHalfling – "When you play the game of thrones you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

derpysauce – Trying to slow some things down and answering some questions in this chapter. Hope you like it.

Bloodwolf432 – Probably a very wise choice, my friend. Very wise.

Cristobal Alvarez – I am also excited to see where this all goes! ;)

tylermech66 – I am always up for battle-nerding, my friend! :D And I hope that this chapter answered at least some of your questions regarding the feeding on slaves. It's less "slaughterhouse" and more "Blood Bank."

FourLivingCreatures – My plan is to mostly do Tala and her POV, with a few POV sections for Lewis and Sarah as well.

Spartanzerg75 – Hope this section answered your question about the Dunmer and their Daedric ties. I don't plan on crossing over into any series with this story. I've played some DA, but not enough to really immerse myself into the lore on the scale required to do a proper fanfic on the subject.

Guest – Well, the choice for Lewis is either support them and open another front on another war, or condemn them and get a useful ally for the war that is looming on the horizon.

Wiwerse, badkidoh – Appreciate the review! I hope I don't disappoint!