Author's Note:

Lots of religious talk in this chapter, though what else can you expect from traveling with paladins? :D

I hope you all enjoy it and thank you for reading :3

Chapter XIX – Casualties

Aeyrin traipsed after the group of Vigilants through the Rift's lush forests.

The Altmer introduced himself as Vuaerion – head of one of the largest contingents within the Vigil of Stendarr. He asked Aeyrin a few questions about her willingness to help and about her abilities, but she only vaguely answered with reassurances – she could handle herself and she merely offered as any Stendarrite would. She wasn't even sure why she wanted to help. It sounded like a nice distraction. And Vuaerion certainly didn't need to know about the Dragonborn thing; in fact it would be refreshing for once to be around people who didn't know.

The Vigilants were apparently tracking a pack of werewolves attacking bandits in southern Rift. They had noticed a camp of slaughtered bandits one day and instantly recognized their mangled corpses as the work of those beasts. Vuaerion was sure that it was only a matter of time before they started hunting further and targeting settlers and travelers. The werewolves escaped the paladins for a long time, but finally they were able to pinpoint their base location in a secluded cavern.

It was only a few hours away from the crumbled tower.

The Vigilants weren't very talkative. They seemed to be much less sociable than the paladins she was used to. After all, the Order of the Imperial Dragon was often more of a political force than a religious one, but the Vigilants seemed different. They were more the grim warriors than glitz to be admired by nobles. They all looked just as immaculate as any other paladin would but they certainly weren't that courteous. Except for Vuaerion, it seemed. He seemed like the paragon paladin. Not even a paladin perhaps. He seemed much prouder and confident – there was no hint of piety or humbleness in his manner. He walked with his head raised high which made him seem even taller than he was and whenever Aeyrin spared him a glance, she earned a charming and confident grin from him.

"So, tell me, Aeyrin, why didn't you have your amulet?" Vuaerion studied her curiously after a while of silent marching through the forest.

"Why did you even assume I was missing one?" she smirked at him in response.

"Most random travelers only stop by the tower to find any forgotten treasures, not to actually meditate by the shrine. You are clearly a sister in faith," Vuaerion smiled at her. He looked rather impressed with his own assessment. "If you had one, you'd hardly hide it away now, would you?"

That wasn't strictly true. She used to hide hers below her armor, for one out of practicality in battle, and also because Master Therien used to do the same thing. He said that it only meant that he had it closer to his heart. She liked the idea of that. But the paladins clearly needed to represent their allegiance and were used to more prominent displays of faith. And their armor insignia wouldn't be complete with the amulets hidden.

"It was lost… stolen," Aeyrin sighed a little. It was a shame that the amulet couldn't be retrieved from Thorn's lair. It was the Cyrodilic one after all – it was such a special reminder of home. And it was from Bishop. Luckily, the more important and unique makeshift 'amulet' from him was safe and sound underneath her armor.

"Sister, they're a septim a dozen," Vuaerion chuckled at her. He didn't seem to be joking though – there seemed to be a loaded question behind the quip. He gave her a strangely searching glance as they walked forward. She could feel his bright seafoam eyes upon her the entire time.

She felt uncomfortably scrutinized. It reminded her all too much of all the times when she and Azshan snuck out of the temple at night with a bottle of Skingrad's finest. They weren't supposed to leave at night until they came of age to pass their vigils. Somehow the priests always knew and they always gave her that very same look the next day.

"I didn't see the point. It's not like I needed the enchantment and… I… didn't see the point," she stammered a little. She wasn't sure what to say. She never used to wear the amulets before she came to Skyrim. It was just an amulet. Besides, she was not exactly as devoted to Stendarr as her compatriots. She was still finding her faith. When Bishop first gave her one of the amulets, it was more about him than anything else. They barely knew each other back then and he still decided not to sell it. Even though he constantly scoffed at anything even vaguely religious. It was always a nice gesture. Whether the first time or the second – it showed that he knew her, that he cared enough to go out of his way to make her smile. Then over time, the amulets seemed to become more than that. They were a symbol of where she came from, what she still had, be it in Skyrim or Cyrodiil. They were a comfort. Perhaps that was exactly what they were supposed to be to the faithful.

But she worried that getting a new one would constantly remind her of how the last one was lost.

"I understand," Vuaerion nodded knowingly. "Many feel as you do when struck with loss or suffering. They wonder: why honor the Gods when you get nothing in return? Why bother when you suffer just like those who don't?"

He assumed much about her. But he wasn't entirely wrong, even though she wouldn't have thought of it that way. She simply didn't feel like the things that brought her comfort before would still be capable of doing that – not for long anyway. She was just wary that clinging to those things and finding nothing helpful would make her even more bitter.

"It is a valid question. Yet you know better than to expect compensation for your faith, do you not, sister?" Vuaerion took up a familiar tone – a somewhat haughty yet kind one. All the priests spoke in that tone whenever they were attempting to comfort someone, or set them on the right path. She did not mind the preaching. In fact, it was somewhat soothing. She was very used to that after all. "You know the suffering that life inflicts, whether personally or not. And you know that our goal is to ease the suffering of others. Life will always be a struggle and no Aedra and certainly no Daedra will ever change that. It is for us to test ourselves, to prove ourselves. How would we know contentment if we knew no sorrow? We follow Stendarr not to find our own salvation from hardship but to find purpose. Our lives are made brighter when we ease the suffering of others, of those who cannot help themselves or find their own comfort in faith alone. It is a calling, not a compensation for sorrow we go through. As is our afterlife by Stendarr's side. It is no reward, it is simply… where we belong," he sighed almost wistfully. He sounded just like the priests back home. The words rang true and she knew they were supposed to bring comfort and realization. But they didn't. Not entirely.

Words like these only served to remind her that this 'calling' and this certainty that all the priests always talked of were for some reason beyond her.

"Thank you, Vuaerion," she nodded at him absentmindedly. She could still feel his searching gaze upon her, as if he could sense that the speech didn't have the intended effect. She hesitated for a while before she spoke again. "I'm… not really a Stendarrite, you know? I grew up in a chapel dedicated to Stendarr and was raised in the faith but… I never… felt what you speak of. That purpose in faith. I didn't undergo a vigil. I left instead. A pilgrimage, Master called it."

She wasn't even sure if she should call it that anymore. It wasn't as if she walked around visiting holy places or contemplating her faith under different Masters' teachings. But Master Therien did suggest that it was more about experiencing the ways of the Eight in the real world. Or… the ways of the Nine in her case. But Vuaerion certainly didn't need to hear about that. She just… wasn't sure what the goal of her pilgrimage was. She somehow always thought that she'd know in time, perhaps that she'd find the worship of another Aedra would actually bring her that fulfillment that everyone talked about. But none of that happened.

"Perhaps you will find it elsewhere, sister. Is that not what a pilgrimage is for?" Vuaerion smiled at her widely. He had such a genuine smile, it always made his eyes gleam.

"Yeah… it's just… sometimes it seems pointless. Always on the road with no destination," she sighed in response. She wasn't even sure if she was still talking about her pilgrimage or just her life altogether.

"Does it need one, sister? Perhaps the journey is your purpose, to find contentment in a life well lived and the people you help along the way. Does this journey not fulfill you?" Vuaerion said wistfully.

"I'm not… well… maybe," she pondered his words. This strange aimless nothingness she felt lately certainly didn't feel fulfilling. But before… before it was different. She didn't search for her 'purpose' when she was travelling through Skyrim. There would have been so many of them – the dragons, the work that she was cooking up with Jora, their struggle against Mercer. It was all part of it. "But… it can't be like that forever," she shook her head. If she was really lucky, she would grow too old or too tired for this life. But that was likely a farfetched idea. With her lifestyle, it was probably an unnecessary point to make.

"So? Whoever said you only get one purpose in life?" Vuaerion scoffed at her merrily. "It will change. And you will know when it does. The path will always reveal itself right when it is supposed to."

He had a point. Being scrutinized by someone in such familiar, priestly manner made her agonize over these questions needlessly. And her realization of just how much she had been avoiding this part of her life didn't help things one bit.

She gave Vuaerion a grateful smile. After a while, she turned it into a sly smirk and nudged him lightly into his armored elbow. "You're awfully preachy for a paladin."

"I suppose I am," he laughed heartily. "You could say that I know what I'm talking about. Priesthood was my purpose for a long time, almost a hundred years. But my path changed then."

"What happened?" she pried with palpable curiosity in her voice.

"War happened, sister," Vuaerion sighed mournfully. 'War'? The Civil War? Or even the Great War? He was old enough to live through it.

"The Great War?" she asked carefully. This may have been a touchy subject for him.

"A… different war. One that brought me to the Vigil of Stendarr. It is a good purpose," he nodded. He didn't say anything further though as he was clearly done with the subject.

She was curious to know what war could have driven him to an order that battled the Daedra and their creations. Perhaps it was not one she would read about in history books at all. Maybe that war even formed the order altogether – she had no idea how old it was, she'd never even heard of them outside of Skyrim.

Before she could ponder any further or carefully ask another question, however, the Vigilants stopped in their tracks in front of a cavernous entrance.

It seemed like they had reached their destination.

…

The cavern was rather small – it consisted of only one larger chamber with a campfire in the middle.

The place looked like it was inhabited by regular humans – there were bedrolls, clothes, wash rags and hunting supplies along with vegetables and animal carcasses. There were also some other slabs of meat, but Aeyrin didn't even want to think about what kind of meat it could have been.

Just as they entered, they were faced with four large beasts – werewolves, each with a thick fur of a different color. She barely noticed one of them in a strange transformation, as if just the echo of the paladins' steps made them turn into the creatures instantly. It was too fast to actually see anything though.

The werewolves stood in the room, panting menacingly, but it barely took a second before Vuaerion let out a rather feral growl and unfastened his warhammer from his back in an impressively swift motion. The other Vigilants followed suit instantly and the beasts didn't wait any longer to lunge at them.

One of the werewolves charged at Aeyrin and immediately scratched at her with its large claw. It grazed against her chest plate, creating a grating sound that echoed through the cavern. It definitely left a scratch on the metal. Divines, just how strong were these things?! She quickly swung her mace against it. It hit right into its muscular arm with a loud crack and its fur caught on fire within a second. The beast looked hardly fazed, however, and with an incredible speed, it threw itself onto the ground and rolled around, dousing the flames. It was back up on its feet within a mere second.

Aeyrin could only hear some human-sounding grunts of pain mixed with guttural roar from the creatures. She did not have the time to take much note of the scene though. The werewolf lunged at her again. She held up her shield, ready to counter the blow, but its force was much greater than she had predicted. She was sent flying to the ground with her armor clanking loudly against the dirt and stones beneath her.

The werewolf wasted no time and ran towards her again, determined to bring an end to her. But before it reached her, a Vigilant woman appeared in her sight and chopped her black axe with golden engravings straight into its flank.

The beast roared in pain and Aeyrin took the opportunity to get back up on her feet. Just as she charged at the werewolf, the woman joined her assault and both their weapons hit the creature simultaneously – her mace right into its skull and the paladin's axe into the same spot on its flank.

The werewolf grunted and fell onto its knees, slowly but surely laying itself onto the ground with the last vestiges of its strength.

Aeyrin quickly took note of the battle – all of the beasts were already in the same state, barely clinging to life. The Vigilants were obviously a force to be reckoned with.

Her eyes fell back onto the werewolf at her feet and to her shock, its body started to twist and… get smaller. The fur retreated into its flesh in a mesmerizing display and the pinkish skin underneath began to reveal itself. In no time, there was no menacing creature.

There was a stark naked dead Nord lying at her feet.

It was an uncomfortable sight. It was a man, a human. She knew that, of course, but seeing it like that was a whole other matter. It wasn't as if she didn't kill plenty humans before, but she couldn't help but wonder if the man was the same ruthless killer in this form.

A heavy armored hand was gently placed at the uncovered part of the back of her neck, startling her from her contemplation.

"Noticed that it turned right before it died, did you? Most of them do," Vuaerion's somber voice rang in her ear.

She looked over the chamber. He was right – two other men and one woman lay on the ground, dead. They looked so strangely vulnerable. They were completely naked with no weapons or armor. Vuaerion said that most of them turn before death. So it was on purpose? Why?

"It's… strange seeing them like this," she sighed. Vuaerion's soothing grasp on her retreated and he let out a deep sigh as well.

"It is regretful. They do that on purpose. Before they die, at the last moment when they draw breath. Can you imagine what they see? What they feel?"

She shook her head. What kind of a question was that? What could they see right before death claimed them?

"They see their future. They see nothing but the Hunting Grounds. Nothing but the eternal chase and the eternal struggle to survive. And they feel… fear. Regret. That is why they turn. In their death, they wish to be human," Vuaerion nodded knowingly. It was obvious that those were just his assumptions, but she had the feeling that he had seen this scene already so many times that he was certain of it.

"But they're not…" Aeyrin whispered somberly.

"No. They are not. And no matter the form they choose, they are destined to perform for Hircine for eternity. One mistake. One moment of poor judgment and they are doomed forever. That is what the Daedra represent," his brows creased hatefully as he stared at the corpses on the ground.

"Some texts say that vampirism and lycanthropy can be cured," Aeyrin looked at him in confusion. Surely if they really wished to end their curse, they would seek out a solution, wouldn't they?

"Foolish rumors with no evidence behind them. These lies are spread by the followers of the vile Daedra, to ease the conscience and fears of those contemplating the transformation. The lies exist purely to sway the lost souls to try and take power. Because there could be a way out," his scowl deepened even more than she thought possible and he let out another mournful sigh. "But there isn't. Can you imagine what leads someone to stand at the precipice of that decision?"

"Desperation," she answered quietly. What else? Why else would anyone risk eternity of suffering in Oblivion?

"Indeed. They crave power because they have none, because they are tormented and pushed around. They are unfortunate casualties. If they turned to the Divines, if they turned to Stendarr, they could have found peace in helping those less fortunate. They could see that life could be… worse, but that there was a way out of misery. But they see their tormentors as content people. And they want that contentment. They think that power will bring them happiness and in the end, they end up here. Because power only brings them enemies and the price for it brings them nothing but regret," Vuaerion gently nudged his foot into the corpse in front of them, turning it to show the man's face. It looked almost peaceful now, but she understood his point. As calm as the body looked, the soul was suffering. "And now… it is even more powerless, even more tormented. What else is left when even death is not your escape?" his voice quivered slightly. He almost sounded like he was speaking from experience, but that was obviously impossible. He clearly said that there was no cure.

They both stared at the corpse for a while before Vuaerion shook his head briskly and his easy smile suddenly returned to his face. Although it looked much less convincing now.

"Let us go, Aeyrin. The hunt was successful. There is nothing more for us here."

…

They all walked silently on the road towards Ivarstead.

Nobody said a word the entire time. It was hardly surprising from the other paladins by now, but even Vuaerion was suspiciously quiet. He seemed almost mournful. It was an odd reaction, wasn't it? The Vigilants were supposed to battle the Daedra and werewolves and vampires regularly, according to what Aeyrin had heard of them. Wasn't he used to it by now? And from the way that he talked, he certainly didn't consider them to be people anymore.

It was a bit of an uncomfortable journey like that, but it was better than walking alone.

They didn't even walk for an hour before the woman currently leading their group stopped abruptly and raised her hand, signaling for everyone to stop in their tracks.

"Wait. Do you hear that?" she almost whispered. Her eyes were trained on the road ahead and she still held her hand raised in warning. "Ambush."

Aeyrin looked around frantically, but she didn't see anything. What ambush?

But a second later, a person suddenly jumped down from a lush crown of one of the aspen trees along the road before three others followed from all around them. She noticed a few more people rustling in the bushes up on a small rocky hill right next to the road.

"Good ears," one of the men grinned meanly. He was clearly a bandit – his makeshift armor and unkempt appearance made that pretty clear.

"Out of our way, scum. This will not end well for you," Vuaerion sneered at him as he quickly unsheathed his large warhammer. He looked really intimidating just then and there was this fierce look in his eyes. He was clearly not in any disposition to be antagonized just then.

"Oh, I think this will end very well for us. I think we'll be very rich men soon," the bandit smirked confidently.

'Rich'? Why? Because of the Vigilants' fancy equipment?

"You wish to fight? So be it," Vuaerion spat at him and he immediately turned to the bandit closest to him, swinging his hammer in a wide arch. He hit the target at the first try, sending the woman crashing into the side of the rocky hill.

The battle ensued in an instant after that. The Vigilants all ran into different directions, each picking one target.

But nobody seemed to be on alert for the archers in the bushes. Did they not see them?

An arrow flew straight at one of the Vigilants. Without a helmet to protect her, she proved to be an easy target and the arrow pierced her skull, sending her falling limply onto the ground.

The archers needed to be dealt with. There was no obvious way up to the hill and none of the Vigilants seemed to be equipped for ranged combat. Aeyrin knew that she had to reveal her identity to prevent further slaughter.

Luckily, everyone, including Vuaerion, were now a safe distance away from the rocks.

"FUS RO DAH!"

The rocks crumbled under the invisible force instantly, collapsing under the archers. They were sent down onto the ground in a messy tangle of rubble and bodies and only two of them seemed to be still moving, though only barely.

The Vigilants all jerked away from their targets for a second to give her a shocked look, but the bandits didn't seem to be the least bit surprised by the Shout.

Aeyrin hurried towards the rubble and finished off the moving bandits quickly. She barely managed to turn around fast enough to see another one charge her with startling speed. He slashed his sword against her, hitting her in her chained flank painfully, but luckily, it didn't go through.

"I'll saw your fucking head off for Thorn, bitch!" he hissed at her and slashed again. This time she was ready and countered him with her mace, but his words caught her off guard. 'Thorn'? These were his men? That was why they thought that they would become rich. It was about the bounty.

The man suddenly lunged himself at her and toppled her to the ground. He tried to stab her again, but she quickly elbowed him in the face with as much strength as she could. He sputtered a lot of blood after the impact, but he riled himself up enough to snarl at her yet again: "Just wait to see what I'll do to you, cunt! You'll be wishing you died at his hands!"

She swung her mace at him instantly, hitting him again into his hateful face. Fortunately, the blow was lethal this time and the man slumped to the ground only a second later.

She quickly looked around the rest of the battlefield, but by then, the Vigilants seemed to be having everything under control.

The last bandit fell soon enough and the Vigilants quickly ran to gather around their fallen comrade.

"Ramari," one of the paladins gasped mournfully and knelt by the woman's corpse. If Aeyrin thought that the Vigilants looked somber before, she's seen nothing yet.

"Why did they attack us?!" Vuaerion bellowed hatefully.

Aeyrin realized quickly that they have probably not heard the bandit's taunts directed at her. They would have surely turned to her for answers if they did.

"They were bandits," she said quietly. Was it so surprising to be attacked by bandits?

"Bandits do not attack us! Why would they? We are a greater challenge to them than mere travelers and armed guards. Even our equipment is not worth the effort for them," Vuaerion shook his head in disbelief.

They wouldn't have attacked them? This was all her fault. They only attacked because their revenge and the bounty made even this worth it to them. That woman died because of that stupid bounty!

"Please, take her. We will find a proper place in the woods for the rites," the Altmer's anger turned into a deep sorrow and his compatriots only nodded absentmindedly. One of them gently gathered the woman's body, huffing in effort at the weight of all the metal he had to carry now.

The men started to slowly march away from the road and towards the woods, but Vuaerion lingered as his eyes turned to Aeyrin.

"Dragonborn?" He raised his brow at her. His face, however, betrayed nothing but continuous sadness.

"Y-yes… I… I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just…" she stammered. It was the least she should be sorry about. She felt much more guilty about the lost life. All because of her.

"No need to apologize. The knowledge would not have prevented Ramari's death. I am… grateful for your assistance," he nodded at her in acknowledgement.

'Grateful'. That word made her feel even worse.

"I need to see to the rites now. I'm sure you understand, we cannot continue onwards with you now," he sighed.

"Of course," Aeyrin nodded briskly. She almost thanked him for taking her with them, but that seemed like a horrible thing to say after what her presence had caused. And he didn't even know.

"Stay safe, Aeyrin… for all our sakes. And may your faith be your everlasting guide," Vuaerion managed to force a weak smile for her, but soon enough, his face twisted again into an expression of deep sorrow.

"You too, Vuaerion," she lowered her eyes. She could not bear to see his face any longer.

The Altmer started to march into the woods with brisk steps but she didn't watch him leave. The only indications were the metallic clanks of his armor, continuously retreating.

She stood there in the middle of the road for a while longer, staring at the bandit corpses around her.

All this death and suffering done in her name. She should not blame herself, there were others who caused this – Thorn and Mercer. But… she couldn't help but feel partly responsible. She could not have foreseen this, but it still happened because of her. Maybe she should have just stayed alone all the time just to prevent this. But… she couldn't live like this. It was what Bishop did and even he, with his aversion to people, wasn't able to keep doing that when they met. She understood completely his reluctance to leave her when he started to worry about putting her in danger. And she was certainly glad that he didn't do the 'responsible' thing, even after everything that happened in the end.

But all of this only made her think about how many people got caught up in all this mess unknowingly. How many innocent people just stumbled into her and Bishop's lives and had their own turned upside down.

People like Lydia.

Maybe… maybe Saadia and Bishop were right. Lydia was not to blame for any of this, she only tried to do the right thing in an incredibly difficult and confusing situation. Aeyrin knew that she was being unfair to her. She was just another casualty of this senseless conflict. Like Ramari was now.

She should talk to Lydia. She should reassure her that things would be alright, that her life would be back to normal. Lydia deserved nothing less. Aeyrin needed to write to her at least, she wasn't sure when she would get back to Whiterun. Especially since she wanted to see if Bishop would be willing to meet up with her after suffering through her outburst.

It was time she started to finally make things right.

She owed it to everyone caught up in this.