Author's Note:
Dear all,
I hope you are ready for the next big plotline. Technically it's starting right now, though the first three chapters might seem a bit transitiony, the important preamble happens now :) This will be an epic plotline full of adventure. I hope you'll all enjoy it.
Thank you to anyone who's still reading and liking the story. It really means a lot and I can't wait to share more and more with you as we're nearing the end of the second book. Seriously, I can hardly wait to share what happens up until the end, but I have to be patient O:) Meanwhile the third book and some new side stories are making good progress ;)
Enjoy and thank you for reading :3
Chapter CXXVII – Blood and Soul
Five days.
They have lost five days and they had no idea how or why and what they had been doing during that time.
It was quite a startling realization when they found themselves in some fort near Windhelm. They had no memory of getting anywhere near this place. And it was staggering that they hadn't sobered up the entire time as they traveled all across the province from Rorikstead to Eastmarch.
It was all really confusing. They only found out just how much time they'd lost when they came across a merchant caravan and asked what day it was. It was the ninth of Sun's Dawn already. Last time they remembered, it was the fourth.
The fact that they had lost so much time was very concerning, but they couldn't really do anything about it at this point. All they knew was that they got drunk in Rorikstead and then somehow ended up in this strange fort with a bad hangover. The corpses in that fort were a whole other thing – none of them looked like they had been killed by either of them. None of them actually looked like they had been killed – mostly like they just dropped dead.
Another shocking thing was Bishop's new injury – namely the magical burns on his already wounded arm. His armor was also a little singed, but that was nothing a good leatherwork couldn't fix. And the burns somewhat explained the new grey sling, though it was hardly a convenient one. It looked like a circular shawl or lower half of a tunic. It wasn't very practical or sufficiently long.
But once again, there were no answers for them anywhere.
No wonder Jack thought that the rum was cursed. This was such a strange thing to happen to them. They could get plastered and some of the details of the previous night would slip out, but never to this extent. It was eerie.
And they were left with no options but to move on. At least they were mostly alright and none of their stuff seemed to be missing.
Now they had to come up with some plan. Bishop needed healing, beyond the help of potions, and magical injuries were still not in Aeyrin's power. But fortunately, that fort was somewhat close to Darkwater Crossing. Sondas would be able to handle it, surely. They didn't really feel up to going to Windhelm and to interact with Jora or her Master too much. That was a precarious territory right now. The mining village was the safer option. And the more pleasant one as well. After all, without spending the night at the cornerclub, Windhelm wasn't exactly tempting. And neither of them wanted to drink again. Not now.
Darkwater Crossing was as nice as ever. Sondas was happy to assist them, although he was disappointed that this time they would pay in gold instead of meat. Bishop was in no condition to hunt and Karnwyr wasn't with them to pick up the slack. Technically, Aeyrin could go kill a mammoth. But without her Shouts and Bishop's ranged backup, she didn't really feel confident in doing that in case its giant owners came to help. Coin was enough though. Sondas could purchase meat for the village with it from another hunter.
Sondas made short work of Bishop's burns, but just like the priest from Solitude, he could not help hasten the healing of the nerves in the arm. And because of the new injuries, Bishop would have to keep the arm in that sling for longer than anticipated. It was fucking annoying. He couldn't handle a bow this way, and other shit he needed two hands for. He really had to curse himself for this drunken stupidity.
After the healing was done, the two of them asked Sondas if he knew dispelling magic and if he would help them get rid of any clairvoyance markings. They had that done only recently, but given the fact that they had no idea what happened to them for five whole days, it was the least they could do in the spirit of security and safety.
They spent the rest of the day and night at the village while Bishop recuperated a little. They also hadn't agreed yet on their next course of action. Once again, they had no solid plans for now, but that only meant that they were free to go wherever they pleased, on whatever adventures they chose.
They needed to restock first, however. And their closest and best bet was Ivarstead. It didn't have the best shop there and the stock wasn't as rich as they would usually need, but they weren't missing that many things that they would have to worry about that.
The journey should at least be quick and relatively safe if they stuck to the road.
"I'm just saying," Bishop grumbled morosely as they continued down the road southwest to Ivarstead. "I'm sick of fucking rabbits all the time."
"Great wording," Aeyrin giggled at him. He had been getting increasingly annoyed at his injury, understandably so, but there was not much else for him to do about it than complain.
"You know what I mean," Bishop groaned. Granted, that wording didn't work out. Although considering Aeyrin's 'nickname', it wasn't as disturbing as it may have sounded. Though it was definitely wrong. As if he would ever get sick of being with her. "Fine. I'm sick of those fucking rabbits all the time. Better? I wanna go hunting. I miss venison. Or just… anything but rabbits." It was the only thing he could catch without his bow. And even then he had to be lucky. They could always buy food, but they usually considered that waste of money with Bishop and Karnwyr being able to hunt for their own. Not now though. Karnwyr was gone and Bishop had only one capable arm.
"I know it's annoying. It got worse after those mysterious burns though. You just gotta be patient," she sighed. She missed him being hale again as much as he did. And not just because of the hunting. A lot of their activities had to be… readjusted to take his injury into consideration.
"I blame you, you know," Bishop smirked at her as they continued down past Lost Knife. Ordinarily they wouldn't have taken this path, but it was just such a straightforward road from Darkwater Crossing into Ivarstead. It was hard to resist the shortcut, especially with their lack of rations.
"Me? For the burns?" Aeyrin gaped at him incredulously. They were magical burns! Unless he turned into an undead in those lost five days, there was no way she could cause those.
"No. For me being so fucking spoiled," he chuckled. "You know, I was used to eating rats or skeever for weeks just so that I wouldn't starve. Now I get pissed if I don't get variety and spices and shit. All your fault."
"My fault? This is your fault. I was in a temple. I barely ever ate anything but grapes and bread. I was lucky if I even got a meal of meat once a week. You're the one spoiling us with your hunting and cooking," Aeyrin shook her head. She used to be content with living without excesses. Now she couldn't even imagine that.
"No. This is on you. For being so fucking cute when you like what I cook for you. That's just unfair," Bishop scoffed with an amused grin on his face. He would never get so eager to do this for every meal and give it so much attention if it weren't for her reactions.
"Well what do you expect? Don't cook so good and I won't like it so much," she chuckled. "I'm just kidding. You better not stop."
"The way we're going, you're gonna get sick of rabbits soon too, so it won't really matter if I make them good," Bishop scowled.
"Well… I still have that light armor from Grelka. I can go hunting," Aeyrin grinned at him in turn. She wasn't really serious. She couldn't hunt. Not without Bishop guiding her shots anyway.
"Right," Bishop chuckled. "What are you gonna hunt?"
"Mammoths?" she smirked. It sounded like the only feasible animal she could hunt down. They were big and slow. It would be a challenge without her Shouts, but she could manage to kill it with her mace. If the giants were far enough.
"Mammoth meat? Really? That's your solution?" Bishop scrunched up his nose. It wasn't really bad, but it wasn't too good either. It was too sinewy and tough. The advantage of hunting mammoths was that there was a lot of meat, but if Bishop was already sick of eating rabbits, mammoths would get old even sooner.
"Fine. I don't really like it that much either," Aeyrin grumbled. "Well… I know! Horkers!" Horker meat was delicious. And she could definitely kill a horker.
"I guess that's a point. Alright. Hunt some horkers for us. So… Winterhold calling?" Bishop chuckled. It was tempting, though the northern shores were quite far. They hadn't agreed on where they would head after Ivarstead yet.
"Hmm… I don't suppose there are any closer? Like… Lake Geir?" Aeyrin gave him a wry smile. Did horkers really need to stay up north? It was so cold down here too!
"Keep dreaming," Bishop smirked. "They don't like the heat. Who would with so much meat on them?"
"'Heat'? Seriously?" she shook her head at him again. Only a Nord or a horker would call this 'heat'. She could smell the frost in the air no matter how far south they were. Though… now that she concentrated on it… it wasn't just the frost. "Speaking of heat… do you smell smoke?"
"You too? I thought I was just delirious from the rabbits and smelling a campfire already," he chuckled. Though the smoke was getting more and more palpable each second. When they looked around, they spotted it coming from a little way off the road, in the forest.
They shared a brief look and a nod before they headed over in that direction. It wasn't a campfire smoke – it was much thicker. And who in their right mind would camp so close to the main road anyway? It was definitely something else. Something was on fire and they were curious. It didn't seem like it was a dragon. That would have made more noise by now.
They rushed through the thicket until they reached the scene. There was an upturned wagon there with the horse nowhere to be found. Its wooden construction was all aflame, but that wasn't all. There was a woman on the ground, sobbing violently near the flames as well as a few corpses – two armed and armored men, clearly mercenaries guarding the wagon on the road. Three bandits were surrounding her, laughing at her plight as one of them kept tossing large bags of something onto the flaming carriage.
"Please, s-stop burning them," the woman sobbed helplessly.
"Hehe, that's what you get for transporting worthless crap," one of the bandits, a haggard-looking Nord, laughed at her.
"Yeah, you should save your tears anyways," another bandit chuckled at the woman – a Wood Elf, a fact which instantly caught Bishop and Aeyrin's attention. "You're not gonna sell these now. You're not goin' wherever you were goin' no more.
"That's right, you'll make it up to us," the third Nord bandit smirked meanly.
It seemed like the Lost Knife bandits were still up to their usual tricks. Bishop and Aeyrin were prepared for an ambush or some commotion ever since they had decided to take this trail. It wasn't the most dangerous one around Fort Amol, but the path from Darkwater Crossing was way too close to be entirely safe from these brigands.
Bishop quickly took a careful look around the treetops before the bandits noticed them – to see if there were any reinforcements there. It looked clear though.
When Bishop gave her a confirming nod, Aeyrin brandished her mace. Unfortunately, that motion got the weepy woman's attention and she let out a startled gasp when she noticed their presence. This alerted the bandits as well.
"Well, well, we got some visitors," the first Nord smirked as all three bandits simultaneously turned towards the two of them.
"Hey, I 'member you," the second Nord narrowed his eyes at Bishop. Of course he did. Any bandit who survived Lost Knife for longer than the last four or five years had the potential to still remember Bishop. He himself rarely remembered anyone – all those fuckers tended to blend together for him. But the Thrice-Banished name and the special attention from Thorn ensured his infamy in the clan circles. "Don't 'member him bein' a cripple though," the bandit scoffed.
"Don't worry, I can kill shits like you with no arms," Bishop snarled in response. It always annoyed him even more when a bandit 'recognized' him. And this whole scene reminded him of things he would rather forget.
"Who's that?" the Bosmer scowled at Bishop.
"Doesn't matter. Worth a lotta drakes though," the Nord smirked in response.
Yeah, you're not getting your hands on those drakes, scum.
There was no more talking. Aeyrin lunged at one of the Nords promptly and Bishop didn't hesitate to brandish his own sword. The bandits readied their weapons again, still bloody from killing the guards, and they responded in kind.
Aeyrin was first to strike, smashing her mace into the mouthy Nord's stomach. His axe grazed her chainmail a little, but he was too staggered by the blow and his grip wavered in the swing. He let out a strangled wheeze as the air got knocked out of his lungs and his axe clattered onto the ground.
Bishop's sword clashed with the Bosmer's in a simultaneous swing. The second Nord was already preparing to strike him with his hammer, but Bishop was ready. He may have only had one arm, but his senses were not dulled in the slightest. He quickly reacted and as he struggled in the sword-lock, he used the element of surprise to kick the Bosmer in the leg with force. He had such flimsy armor – seemed like the bandits weren't as well supplied as they used to be. Was it any wonder? They had lost their vicious leader and most of their other united bases. This was their last sanctuary left and it had suffered a couple of attacks somewhat recently as well.
The Bosmer staggered back in surprise and, in the meantime, Bishop managed to dodge the blow from the Nord's hammer. That was fucking lucky. If he hadn't, he would have suffered even more damage to his injured arm. He wanted to avoid that at any cost.
He spun on the spot and faced the Nord this time. Aeyrin had already dealt with her opponent and she now turned towards the Bosmer, so that gave him a chance to concentrate on the last bandit. It was very quick after that. Bishop managed to evade another blow from the hammer and he raised his sword in the momentum, thrusting it into the man's neck and sending shocks through him.
By that time, the Bosmer was on the ground. Wheezing in pain after a forceful blow to his back from Aeyrin's mace.
She was already preparing to finish him off. But that would be an unnecessary mistake.
"Wait!" Bishop quickly stopped her before she could smash her weapon to the man's head.
She didn't even look surprised when he did. Like she expected it. She only let out a subtle sigh at his reaction and lowered her weapon again. She probably didn't relish doing this once more, but it was the last time. They would finally be done.
Bishop promptly jogged back to where they abandoned their packs and he retrieved the Dwemer device from it. Last empty vial. And the soul gem was glowing almost as brightly as a full one.
He rushed back towards the scene. He was gone only for a minute, but by then, Aeyrin was straddling the wounded elf, pinning him down securely. The woman whose wagon got ambushed still sobbed by the flames, watching the scene with palpable fear and trepidation.
Bishop knelt down by the elf. He was clearly having trouble breathing. That was good. At least he wouldn't start talking. It was always harder when they talked.
He pierced the man's throat, only watching the startled expression on his face while the blood flowed into the vial. It was done soon and he removed the device to wait for Aeyrin to slit the elf's throat. She, however, looked lost in thought the entire time. She didn't even reach for the soul-trapping dagger.
"Princess?" Bishop's concern was hard to hide in the tone of his voice.
"Hmm? Oh… right… sorry…" she mumbled, mostly to herself as she finally reached for the dagger. She still looked like she was miles away in her head though. The task was done surprisingly quickly. Aeyrin didn't even seem to hesitate. She didn't even seem to concentrate on the man. Usually she looked much more disturbed by this, but now, she was clearly focused on something else entirely.
The soul left the Bosmer and filled the soul gem within a few seconds. The glow got much more prominent now. It was clear that the task was done.
"That's it. Last one," Bishop gave her a slight, encouraging smile, but the absentminded look still didn't leave her face.
"Yeah…" she murmured again.
"That's good," he tried to get her out of her delirium again, as if she needed to be told that. He didn't understand what was bothering her. This had been an uncomfortable task, but it was over now. At last.
"Yeah…" she repeated the same thing again with the same far-away stare.
"What's wrong?" there was clearly no point in dragging it out of her – he should just ask outright.
"N-nothing just… it's done. Now… there's no more stalling," she stammered a bit. "I'll have to tell everyone what… what happened. That I can't…"
Right. That explained why she just wanted to kill the elf without subjecting him to this process. Their hunt for the Elder Scroll was coming to its end, if that crazy hermit was right. Soon there would be a Scroll, and then a Shout. One that she couldn't use. But that could still take a lot of time. And who knew how close the Companions were to finding the cure? For all they knew, they could be following the lead right now.
And besides, there were still too many unknowns. They didn't even have anyone who could read that Scroll. They didn't even have that damn Scroll yet either.
But before he could even try to reassure her, a whispered sob interrupted them.
"Divines. Oh Divines, please protect me," the weeping woman held her hands tightly locked together in a prayer as she rocked on the spot, clearly panicked out of her mind.
That finally got Aeyrin's full attention.
"Oh. No! Don't worry, we're not gonna hurt you." She quickly started fretting over that woman – she approached her carefully and she looked like she wanted to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but she changed her mind before she did.
"Please don't do that to me, please," the woman looked with palpable terror at the device in Bishop's hands. "Please, Gods, I don't know what that it just… please!"
Bishop promptly hid the device behind his back – as if that would help when she already saw it. But through all this, he had completely forgotten that they had an audience. This was going to be weird to explain.
"No. Don't worry, we won't," Aeyrin shook her head at her quickly. "It's just… uhh… for… bad people…" she stammered. She wasn't really sure how to even begin to justify that strange device to a stranger. The woman certainly didn't look reassured at all.
"It's an experiment for the College. Don't worry about it," Bishop piped up, trying to find a comforting explanation. The College wasn't really popular in Skyrim, but at least it was familiar to people. More so than strange, crazy hermits and Dwemer devices. "We won't use it on you. We just use it on bandits we would've killed anyway."
The woman nodded, slowly and uncertainly, but she did nod at least. She looked a little bit calmer.
"Are you hurt?" Aeyrin asked partly to change the subject as well.
"N-no. You… you came just in time… they… they were still burning my… my supplies," she looked regretfully at the burning wagon with some of the large sacks already flaming on the pile.
"What are you transporting?" Bishop looked at the remaining sacks curiously. "Not a lot of shit bandits would scoff at. Or get so pissed about."
"Just… bugs…" the woman cringed, as if she was afraid to raise their ire as well.
"'Bugs'?" Aeyrin raised her brow at the woman. Why would anyone trade with bugs? They were everywhere anyway. No wonder the bandits found that worthless.
"Yes… they… they're…" the woman hesitated for what felt like a long time. She kept throwing Bishop wary glances, but then her eyes always steered towards Aeyrin again and her uncertainty seemed to waver a bit. Her next words were whispered almost silently. "They're for the Windhelm docks. For… for workers. Sun-dried bugs. They… they like them. They don't get much food."
Ah. This woman was supplying the Argonians at the docks, perhaps secretly. It sounded like, even with the Butcher gone, the poor workers did not have it any better. Weren't the docks open again? Why were the Argonians still starving?
It did explain her hesitation in front of Bishop though. A 'true son of Skyrim' might take issue with her supporting the Beast races in such a way.
"That's very kind of you," Aeyrin gave her a warm smile. The woman seemed to relax a little more when she wasn't met with disdain for her actions.
"Well… a lot was lost just now," she sighed. "Not to mention the poor mercenaries. And the wagon… and the horse. I don't… I don't know how I'll get there."
She did have a lot of sacks left and they would definitely be hard to transport without the wagon. Or a horse. Then again, it wasn't that much for three people to carry somehow. And Darkwater Crossing was really close. The woman could get some help there.
Aeyrin threw a questioning look at Bishop, but he already seemed to get what she wanted. He only rolled his eyes, but with a smile etched on his face. He must have known she wanted to help her. She was probably already predictable with this, but at least he didn't mind.
"We can help you out. Come on, let's get your bugs," Aeyrin smiled. "There's a mining village nearby. The people there are sure to give you a hand. And a new wagon."
…
The journey back to the village was very quick. They were only a couple hours away and between the three of them, the sacs of bugs were easy enough to carry. They were very light after all, the problem was just carrying them at once.
The woman seemed to rouse from the shock a bit as they continued on their way and soon, she was fully realizing what had just transpired. She kept asking what they thought the bandits would have done to her if they didn't arrive to her rescue. She didn't want to know the answer. It wouldn't help anything. Bishop made sure to steer the conversation elsewhere or brush her off whenever she asked. Thorn had only been dead for half a year and there was no doubt about his tactics living on in his previous lackeys. And he wasn't the only sick bastard among bandit groups either, that was for sure.
Fortunately, the woman never got a clear answer before they reached the mining village again. The miners were willing to help, and they sold her a small ore cart for a really symbolic fee. She could load all the sacks there and transport it to Windhelm. She would have to drag it herself, without her horse, but at least it wasn't heavy. And Derkeethus even agreed to accompany her on the road for some protection and then to help her get the sacs to the docks covertly. He was quite touched by the woman's endeavors.
Bishop and Aeyrin left the village again soon enough, this time hoping for an undisturbed track back to Ivarstead.
It was quite uneventful. And right after Aeyrin's concerns over the bug-lady dissipated, she fell silent and contemplative again. Bishop tried to broach the subject of that device a few more times, but she mostly dismissed him. Or she looked like she wasn't listening at all.
They reached Ivarstead after a few hours in tense silence. At least it felt tense to Bishop. Aeyrin probably didn't even notice the tension, as lost in thought as she still was.
When they settled at Vilemyr Inn, Aeyrin did make some polite small talk with Lynly, but whenever it was just the two of them again, it seemed like she felt comfortable once more to disappear into her head.
"Hey," Bishop interrupted her somber silence once more as he placed his hand on hers on the table to get her attention. She looked at him, but she looked ready to let his words go in one ear and out of the other. Well, hopefully not this time. "I was thinking: we don't have any plans now. Why don't we stop by Sky Haven?"
Aeyrin gave him a startled look at first – that certainly got her attention – but a second later, she let out a defeated sigh instead.
"Yeah… yeah, you're right. Get this over with… I guess…" she murmured dejectedly.
"What? No. I didn't mean to go and tell everyone what happened," Bishop shook his head promptly. "Look, we don't know how close the Companions are to the cure. For all you know, they could have a solution tomorrow. And even if it takes longer, all I meant is, we're nowhere near close to having to tell anyone. We don't have the Scroll. That fucking hermit can be lying. And even if he's not, we still need to find Blackreach and find that one Scroll there, which could be anywhere. Then, we have to get a Moth Priest. And after that, we don't even know yet. You can learn the Shout just fine, but then, we don't even know when and how you should use it. It's not like we can find Alduin unless he himself ambushes us. This will all take a lot of time. Why are you panicking about telling people? It could all be resolved before any of this happens."
Right. He was right. Aeyrin nodded at him as she thought about his words. It was quite premature of her to worry. It was just that device… it made it all too real. They were getting closer. She wasn't exactly sure what they were getting closer to, but they were. And it just made her dwell on how much more complicated things seemed now with everything else going on.
But Bishop had a point. There was still too much to do. And they didn't even have a plan for any of it yet. Maybe that was what bothered her. When she didn't know how long things would take, she had the feeling that they were approaching all too fast.
"Wait… so why do you think we should go to Sky Haven?" she raised her brow at him.
"To find out what's going on. With the Moth Priest and shit. We don't know if Esbern even contacted the monastery yet or anything. I think it will make it easier to check in. I feel like you're worrying that there's a Moth Priest already waiting there for you to deliver him the Scroll."
It did kind of feel like it. And he had a point. Checking in with the Blades might at least tear her out of the uncertainty. And if the priest was really there, maybe she could write to Vilkas and find out the state of the cure. There was no reason to worry about this. Yet. Right?
"Alright," she gave Bishop a weak smile in turn. It was a good idea.
And they had nothing else planned anyway.
…
The two of them decided the next day to traverse the base of the Throat of the World from the south, instead of bypassing it by the northern route. It wasn't really a short-cut – the foothills were traitorous and hard to walk through, especially in the winter, but they had one advantage over the northern path. They were nowhere near Whiterun Hold. It was a small price to pay for a bit more safety.
The mountainous ascents took them the whole day, so by the end of it, they agreed to make camp in a familiar place – the plateau by Skybound Watch where they had spent two nights a month ago, trying to weather Aeyrin's transformation.
It only served as a reminder. Secunda was almost full again. They had previously spent a lot of time calculating and making extra sure that they would note the times each month properly. This month it fell on the fifteenth – only three nights away.
But they were not going to camp out in one place for six nights. Not only was it a tremendous waste of time, but it was also still not very safe. They had enough time to make it to the Reach and then find a proper place to stay those three nights with full Secunda somewhere there.
The road through Falkreath was disturbed occasionally by the stray bear or a small group of brigands, but the area had really never been safer. It was not safe. But it was still safer than ever. Even the caravans traveling through seemed more numerous. And Bishop and Aeyrin were steadily less nervous about traversing the woods as well. It looked almost like Thorn's bandits were never even there. Funny. So much pain and suffering in these woods, and now it felt like barely anyone remembered how dangerous they used to be.
But it was kind of nice, to try and fight through the paranoia that still, to some measure, followed each step through the forests. Bishop and Aeyrin even started to casually discuss spending some time in Falkreath one day – properly. Adventuring around, staying there for more than a night of necessity and without being trapped at the inn and waiting for some inevitable danger. It was still kind of terrifying, but also a little empowering, to be musing on that notion.
They made it to the Reach that day, but they didn't make it all the way to Sky Haven Temple. They would have arrived too late to discuss anything anyway if they continued, so instead, they opted to stay at Old Hroldan Inn for the night.
It was a pleasant and uneventful night, and after breakfast, they headed straight to Sky Haven Temple.
They had to take a bit of a detour, to avoid a skirmish between some Forsworn and Imperial soldiers, but they made it to the temple unscathed in the end.
When they arrived at the temple, it was eerily quiet. The only thing disturbing the silence was a soft murmuring and the rustle of old pages. They knew instantly where to look for the source.
"Esbern?" Aeyrin called out to the old man crouching by Alduin's Wall as they approached. It took a few seconds for him to register the sound and look back at them.
"Ah! Friends! It's good to see you back," he smiled at them warmly.
"Where is everyone?" she looked around curiously. Usually at least someone was here to greet them.
"You have just missed them. They all left about an hour ago," Esbern explained. "Young Erik scouted out an undisturbed dragon burial south of Morthal. The boy has been such an invaluable asset, I must commend you again for bringing him to us."
It was nice that Erik's skills were so useful to the Blades. But it was still a strange find. What would they do with an undisturbed mound, exactly? They couldn't even practice dragon slaying on it, when the dragon was still dead.
"Why did they all go to the mound?" Bishop raised his brow at Esbern. He seemed to be wondering the same thing.
"Oh. Well, it is a bit of a process, but Delphine has found a skilled Orcish smith to join our cause. She is convinced that the young woman would be able to make weapons and armor for everyone from the bones."
"Wait. They're going to dig up the dragon?" Aeyrin gaped at him. She never even thought about someone doing that. Did that mean what she thought it meant?
"Yes, yes, exactly," Esbern nodded at her in excitement. "The Blades will get more valuable weapons against the beasts and at the same time…"
"Alduin won't be able to resurrect it." Bishop finished the thought instead with the same level of astonishment.
"That's… genius," Aeyrin gasped. Why hasn't anyone thought of this before? The jarls could be sending contingents to find these mounts, lessening the dragon threat and arming their people at the same time.
But, then again, that would mean they would have to know about Alduin. And that they would have to stop sending so many soldiers into their pointless war as well.
"And they're gonna haul all that back here?" she questioned again. She couldn't imagine that process being very subtle.
"Well, our operation had grown quite a bit by now," Esbern nodded. "We have wagons, two horses too. They are taking precautions from being seen, of course. This is the first attempt at something like this, but I have every confidence in them."
"Quite the nifty setup you have here," Bishop smirked. He was already convinced that the Blades wouldn't be as useless as he had originally thought by what Erik had told them of their efforts, but this was something else.
"We do. Our group is faring well against Alduin's efforts, I dare say," Esbern smiled proudly. "But none of it is a victory as long as he himself is still alive."
"Right. Any progress on that?" Aeyrin peered at the Wall. She wasn't sure what she was expecting. They already had the important information. Unless there was something disputing it now. She wouldn't exactly mind, given her current predicament.
"Oh yes. I have been able to piece together a lot of new information about the history of the Dragon War. Would you care to hear more pieces of history?" Esbern beamed. He looked really eager to share, but they knew what that meant. Another long-winded lecture with not much of use in it.
"Maybe later," Aeyrin chuckled nervously.
"Yeah. We were more curious about something else," Bishop nodded. "Any progress with the Moth Priests?"
"Unfortunately, that is where we are stuck," Esbern sighed. That was a good sign. It was strange, to think of the lack of progress as 'good', but right now, it really was. Aeyrin had a point. If things went too fast, they would have to fess up about her lycanthropy. And the Blades would surely panic. "I have contacted the Temple of the Ancestor Moths in Cyrodiil. I pleaded with them to send a Priest over to us, but I haven't heard a word back yet. It's been a couple of weeks." He lowered his head regretfully.
"You think that something is going on at the monastery?" Aeyrin gave him a concerned look. That sounded eerie. No word at all?
"It is possible. And it worries me. We will certainly need their assistance, if we are to succeed," the Old man sighed again.
"Uh-huh. I have a different theory," Bishop scoffed at him. "That you were so insufferably vague in your letter that they just ignored it." It definitely sounded like a plausible explanation to him.
"I… well… I mean, I cannot divulge the real issues," Esbern shook his head somberly. "They are in Cyrodiil. There are Thalmor everywhere. Everywhere. I cannot be certain that they wouldn't intercept the letter. Or that they are not monitoring the monastery. We have to be very careful here. If they knew that we are still active…"
It was a valid concern, if the Thalmor were really so intent on slaughtering the Blades. And if Bishop was right, Esbern's worries also gave them some much needed leeway. When the time came, they could always take it upon themselves to contact the Priests. Surely no one would bat an eye about their endeavors to stop the dragons.
"But why do you ask, friends? Did you… did you perchance find the Scroll?" Esbern's eyes gleamed with hope as he asked.
Aeyrin took a nervous breath. She wasn't sure why she was so anxious about telling him just how close they may be. Probably because it might spur Esbern to more relentless action regarding the Moth Priests. But before she could say anything, Bishop quickly interjected.
"We don't have it yet," he shook his head. There was no need to rush things. They still didn't know for certain that the Scroll would be in Blackreach. Or that the key would work. Or that they would even get the key. Their stopping by Sky Haven was supposed to be just a recon mission after all. "We were just in the area and wanted to check in on the progress," he lied.
"Ah. Well… keep searching, friends. I am confident that all our efforts will bear fruit eventually," Esbern gave them a comforting smile.
There was a moment of silence as Esbern shuffled his books around a bit, before he looked at them again. "Will you be staying? I am sure the others will be back by tomorrow eve. The day after tomorrow at the latest."
"Oh. No… we need to leave tomorrow morning. We have… somewhere to be," Aeyrin bit her lip nervously. That 'somewhere' was namely 'anywhere away from people that she might hurt'. Secunda would be full again the next night and they needed to find a safe place to camp for three nights in a row.
"At least you are staying the night then," Esbern smiled. "There is some food in the kitchen. Why don't you help yourselves and come join me here? I have many intriguing historical details to tell you about."
It looked like they weren't getting out of that lecture.
But it didn't sound too bad to spend the evening with some meal in a safe place, listening to stories of the past.
And when they weren't rushing to get somewhere, or eager to get some specific information out of him, Esbern's calming voice was quite nice to relax by.