By the Nine, is it good to sleep in a real bed! Despite getting to the inn after dark and waking just before dawn, I feel more rested than I have in days. Serana seems rested too – vampires do sleep after all, then. What to do about the blood problem though? I guess animal blood would do... I ask her about it as we leave the inn, quietly so no-one overhears, and she seems ok with it.
Trotting down the road to the morning chorus of insects, I decide to see how many ingredients I can gather before we reach Riften, so I slow beside every plant to pick a blossom, or flail around like a cat after a toy trying to catch butterflies and other flittering insects. Serana looks at me askance, but says nary a word, for which I am thankful – if embarrassed. I must be quite the sight, chasing bugs down the cliff-side road. We take the road around Dragon Bridge, then turn into Hjaalmarch on the other side of the river. The insects fell quiet as we passed beneath the stone dragon head over the bridge, and I am thankful for it – my ears still ring as though they continue their incessant chirping.
Our quiet journey is interrupted by a thief, who wasn't making the best effort at hiding and whose hold-up lines are the same as the other unfortunates before her. Sensing an opportunity, I slay the thief without too much blood spilt by either party, then quickly glance awkwardly at Serana, unsure how to explain my idea to her.
Luckily, she understands what I mean from just that, and I can't help but look away as she drains the lifeless corpse; casting a spell first that starts the blood flowing again. A little while later, she straightens, wiping her mouth delicately on her crimson cuff, and we continue our trek along the snowy road. That should hopefully satisfy her for the next short while. At least this solution means she doesn't need to feed on innocent people.
This reminds me for some reason – I have a daedra heart in my bag from the lab, and the Orcs at the giant-attacked compound did ask me for one. I'll have to remember to save it for them.
We pass no-one until we are well past Morthal, where we meet a trio of Thalmor, one trailing far behind the others. Trying not to scowl at the stuck up excuses-for-elves is more difficult than I thought, so instead I merely watch the countryside pass on the other side of the road from them as we jog by.
Near Stonehills mine, we dodge the angry attention of a bear growling at us from the wilderness then, a bit further on, duck around a wandering courier to head south where the snowy cobblestones meet the road to Dawnstar. A couple of nearby Vigilants watch us pass them suspiciously, and the Imperials at Fort Dunstad are, of course, unhappy to find that people actually use the road passing through their fort, turning my sympathies further towards the Stormcloaks. Pompous idiots – what did they expect to happen when they occupy a fort across a major highway? Was all commerce from the south and the east supposed to just stop? Their stupidity surprises me every time I have cause to use this road.
Turning south again along the road into Whiterun, we pass the still-stranded jester with his broken cart. If I knew how, I'd fix the wagon myself – Loreius obviously isn't going to. Near the city, we pass a farmer with a cow, then turn along the east road across the river. Valtheim is still silent, as is the road, until we pass a farmer who mentions joining the Legion as he passes. I avoid meeting his eyes – if I do join the Stormcloaks, I don't want to recognise any of my kills. Gods, what if I met Hadvar? Did he make it out of Helgen alive? Great, now I feel bad.
A couple of miles further on, a Breton mage leaps out of nowhere just behind a fireball cast towards us. What is it with these people and trying to kill us? Do they do it for fun? Do they really want to die that much? Because that is what always ends up happening. Not one of these drunken or crazy people has survived me. At least they go out fighting.
Across a high bridge crossing the waterfalls, I spot a vein of iron, so to calm myself I pull out my pickaxe and hack away at it. I really need to stop working myself up, or I'll snap and probably end up in the same ways as I was before I came to Skyrim, and there is no way in all the planes that I want to go back to that. Well, maybe not all the planes... no! Never again; never!
Ugh – mining obviously isn't as calming as I usually find it, so I gather the ore I'd cut away from the stone and continue up the steep road. I clear my mind and instead focus on the scenery; on breathing the clean, cool air and on putting one foot in front of the other. Soon, I'm in a better state of mind, and not even a passing Redguard calling me a milk-drinker – how is that an insult, anyway? – makes me even twitch. My teacher would be proud; she was the one who taught me this method in the first place, and the one who got the most annoyed when I couldn't seem to get the hang of it! At first, anyway – I eventually managed it, but the use I put it to later on... I'm not proud of that, and I doubt she would be either.
I soon realise I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, as I don't quite recognise where we are; soon though it all comes clear, and I take the next joining road, taking up further up the cliff. I nod to the guards as we enter Shor's Stone, the smith's hammer ringing through the afternoon haze. I use the smelter outside the mine to melt down the ore I'd mined into ingots – I can use it to improve any iron weapons I have, unless I meet a merchant first – then continue down the road, through an empty Fort Greenwall and up the road towards Riften. Outside the city, a Khajiit caravan has set up camp, so I sell the ingots to them along with the many ingredients and other oddments I'd collected since I last encountered as shop. The amount of oddments turns out to be a large one, and the poor cat runs out of coin to pay me with, but she doesn't seem to mind – she assures me he can make it all back before I next meet them, so I take what she offers and let her have the rest of the stuff for free. She grins, sharp teeth glinting through her whiskers, and she is delighted, saying she can think of many people who have a need of such things, and we take our leave with a cordial invitation to come back again soon.
Trekking through the wilderness towards the road to Cyrodiil, I briefly wonder how people can suspect the jovial creatures of theft and other illegal activities, but then I realise that their eagerness to deal with people and other merchants is most likely the cause of such suspicion. As well as the Nord's almost-instinctual racism, that is.
Ducking into the canyon, we haven't travelled far along the track when we encounter two vampires taking advantage of the recently-set sun to scout out the defences, and we take them by surprise, attacking from behind and dealing a good bit of damage before they recover enough to fight back. One casts some sort of spell at me, but I ignore it and slash heavily at her, slicing clean through her arm and her throat in one cut. Once the battle is over, though, the odd feeling that had come across me when the spell was cast fails to dissipate, and it still lingers when we reach the great doors of the fort, so I chug one of the 'cure disease' potions from my pack and the queasiness finally fades. I think I just dodged a bloody bolt there...
Heading towards the forge, I find Sorine working hard at the grindstone – thinking of bolts has reminded me of the critical shortage of them I currently suffer. Gunmar is nearby, so I buy out both of their stock of bolts, alongside a spell book for a spell called 'Sun Fire' that catches my eye, and turn to find a bunk. Sorine catches my arm as I turn.
"Do you have a moment?" She asks me, and I turn back. "Gunmar and I have been talking and, well, we're slightly worried. We both realised that if Isran's even allowed us in here, he must be really concerned. And if he's that concerned, the situation must be pretty bad. Make sense?"
"You're worried about what we're up against?" Behind her, Gunmar is too busy feeding his trolls, in a new pen near the forge, to join the conversation.
"Yes. These vampires are a new threat, and a truly deadly one. Gunmar and I agree that we're going to need Florentius to help. Gunmar and I have a lot of work to do here, so we're hoping that maybe you could track him down."
"Where can I find him?"
"Well, that's the thing. We don't know where he is." Sorine gives me an apologetic grin. "Haven't seen him in years. I think he had regular contact with the Vigilants, and I know Isran kept track of them... so maybe you could ask Isran if he knows anything? Just keep in mind that he... well, he might not like the idea."
Great. I promise I'll do my best, then head into the barrack room and fall into a bunk, staying awake just long enough to learn the new spell.