The afternoon sun streamed in the windows and lit up the Amulet of Kings as it lay on the wooden desk. Both parties were silent; Carolara was still panting for breath, having run an uphill road all the way to the Priory with atrophied muscles and bare feet, and Jauffre was still letting her hasty words sink in. By all appearances a simple old monk, the Grandmaster of the Blades had surely seen some odd things in his days, but this easily ranked among one of the oddest.
He gestured for his fellow Breton to have a seat and she did, nodding gratefully. "Well," he said, rubbing the smooth top of his head. "This certainly is no fake, so I have no choice but to believe you. And the Emperor spoke of his hidden heir... I am one of the few who know he exists."
"I'll find him," Carolara blurted out, even before her mind registered what she'd just done. Trying her best to straighten her sweaty, grimy hair, she backpedaled, glancing at the floor. "I mean, if you know where he is, and would like me to, I was asked, I may as well."
Jauffre seemed to understand, smirking a bit. "And your enthusiasm is appreciated. I accept your offer of help. If Uriel's words rang true, we may need all the assistance we can get."
"What do you mean by that?" She tilted her head.
The old man intertwined his fingers, resting his elbows on his desk and lowering his voice, the smile gone from his face. "The Prince of Destruction he referred to is none other than Mehrunes Dagon, one of the lords of the demonic world of Oblivion. The Emperor's final words certainly suggest that he perceived some threat from Oblivion."
Carolara slumped a bit in her chair, the words sinking in heavily. "That sounds like it could be quite a problem," she understated, reaching out for the crimson jewel and contemplating its surface with her fingertips... and even in such a grave situation she couldn't help but to appraise it, speculate how much it might sell for. By far, it was the most spectacular jewel she'd ever laid eyes on, and that was saying something. She'd been inside the grand Dragonsreach palace of Whiterun, the mansions of Godsreach in Mournhold, wizard towers in High Rock, and never seen its equal.
"So this Amulet is how we stop it?" She inquired at length, forcing her eyes and hands away from it with some difficulty. "Is that why he gave it to me, I mean, had me bring it here?"
"I'm not sure," Jauffre replied. "Only the Emperors truly understand the meaning behind the rituals of coronation. When an Emperor is crowned, he uses the Amulet to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. With the Emperor dead and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple will be dark, for the first time in centuries. It may be that the Dragonfires are more than symbol."
Deciding not to think too hard about how a jewel lit a fire and leaving that thought to the domain of mages and sorcerers, Carolara just nodded. "So we find the heir, give him the Amulet, and make him carry out this ritual. Simple enough. I'll set out right away if you give me the directions."
"In that condition?" he raised a brow, assessing her. The copper-haired Breton looked down at herself and for the first time really understood the sorry state she was in. Hardly a patch of skin or dress wasn't tainted with grime and dirt. Her hair was matted and she daren't smell herself. Jauffre stood, chuckling lightly as she sighed, striding over to a chest sitting against the wall and opening it. "Take what you like. I keep some things on hand to resupply traveling Blades; consider it payment and thanks. Once you've done that feel free to some food and a wash, but I doubt I need to remind you of the urgency."
Carolara thanked him and began to rummage. A scout's set of leathers would keep her protected while allowing her to be quiet and light on her feet. A bow reinforced with steel was also just to her liking, complete with a full quiver of finely-made arrows. If there was one thing she could do well, it was shoot. Living on the road, never knowing where her next coin would come from, meant hunting for one's meals and the necessity had made her eyes keen enough to hit a fleeing rabbit. Clean, quick, precise. She knew she'd need some practice after the incarceration but she felt confident she'd quickly get back into the swing of it.
After her wash, which considerably raised her spirits, the Breton took a dagger and proceeded to give herself an imperfect, but much-needed haircut. Her jailors over time had never allowed her close enough to a sharp object, or even someone holding one, so it had grown almost down to the small of her back. Far too long for comfort. She cut it as even as possible just above the shoulder, surprised by how much lighter it made her head feel and braiding the bits of it just around her face to prevent stray hair from blowing into her eyes while she shot. The beds in the Priory looked very tempting after that, and her muscles ached in protest and urged her to rest, but Carolara ignored them. There was someone in danger and she had to get to them first.
She was to go to the Chapel of Akatosh in Kvatch, Jauffre told her, and ask for a priest by the name of Martin. He had no idea he was the son of Uriel Septim, and Carolara could only hope he wouldn't think her mad. There were no roads directly connecting the cities, but that was no obstacle for the wood-wise Breton. She was pretty familiar with most of the western Colovian Highlands of Cyrodiil from her youth, and while she couldn't exactly remember the city of Kvatch she knew where it was; almost directly southwest across the sprawling wilderness of the Imperial Reserve.
By the time Carolara had put on her cloak and was ready to leave, a small satchel of food at her side, there were only a few hours of sunlight left. "The Amulet will be safest here," Jauffre was saying as he saw her out. "When you return with Martin, we will figure out our next move. And, take this."
In her open hand he placed a mithril compass. Sturdy, but of exquisite craftsmanship, a tiny yet detailed etching of a dragon on the back. "Belonged to a friend of mine in the Blades," he explained, "But neither one of us travel anymore. Should help you get to Kvatch all the faster."
"Thanks. I won't let anything happen to the heir," She assured him. "We'll keep as low of a profile as we can."
She'd already failed once, Carolara reminded herself as she stepped off of the road and into the forest, her pace as brisk as she could muster without exhausting herself. It was time to make up for it.