The young Vigilant raced through the trees, pursued by a large, and very hungry White Saber Cat. Flakes of light fell from the sky and settled upon the rolling canvas as her footprints disturbed the freshly fallen snow.

The world flew, the cold stung, and her lungs ached with fright as Cura sprinted for her life. The cat was unrelenting, and gnawed at her, biting her tiny frame and pinning her to the ground. The child struggled beneath the fiend's impressive weight and mighty grip.

"Help me!" Cura cried, as she felt the agonizing pain tear through her small body. she put up her arms to protect her face from the beast's claws, and her gauntlets absorbed most of the blow. The claws, large hooks they were, cut into the iron, but broke, fortunately for the young Breton.

Blood came down from the side of her thigh, where the horrid tiger had caught her, tooth and claw, and began to paint the snow around her as tears painted her cheeks a deep red to match.

Before the Saber Cat could finish her off, a silver object whirled through the air, bashing the cat's head down to the side.

Keeper Carcette stepped in, intervening on Cura's behalf. The Saber Cat recoiled backwards, staggered from the blow of her Steel Warhammer. As the fiend lunged back to bite the Keeper, she held her hammer horizontally, and pushed forward, smacking the ferocious feline in the snout, causing it to double over backwards, when she returned with another vicarious blow across its head.

Blood spurted off of it, like water, and splatted in the snow, and the raging beast finally toppled over to its side, dead.

Cura whimpered, as she lay down in the snow, the bitter cold stinging her tear-stained cheeks. She could see her breath in the frozen air, and knew she was still alive. Keeper Carcette stood a few feet ahead of her, and Cura could see the Keeper bend down and take a knife from her pouch. She placed the knife beneath the Saber cat's gums, and pulled out a tooth.

"This can be incorporated into a Stamina Potion." Carcette said. "It would be best not to let it go to waste out here in the forest."

She carved an eye, a fang, and some of its pelt, then walked over to Cura, who pulled herself to sit upwards in the still white powder.

"Are you all right?" The Keeper knelt down to examine Cura, and quickly determined that she was, in fact, not all right. "Sigh... Cura..." The Keeper shook her head, disappointed. "I warned you that there were Saber Cats in this forest. I told you to be mindful of the claw marks on the trees."

"I know." Cura looked down, ashamed. "I saw some Snowberries, and I was hungry. I thought I could sneak some without you noticing I was gone."

"Well, that was foolish of you!" Carcette snapped. "You're never supposed to wander off alone! We have our strength in numbers!"

"I know." Cura repeated guiltily. "I'll be smarter next time."

"You had better. Stendarr is merciful, but the world is not." Carcette stood up as she said this, and she offered the young Breton her hand. Cura took her hand, and was pulled up on her feet. She casted a Healing spell, and her wounds quickly sealed up.

Carcette rejoined the other Vigilants, and Cura followed behind her, like a duckling. After some time, they arrived in the town of Dawnstar. Skald the Elder presided on his throne as Jarl.

"Hmph. I don't recall summoning you Vigilants into my town. Your connections to the Empire are no secret." He hissed these words out like a grouchy Horker. "Could you be... Imperial Spies, perhaps?"

"I'm with the Skyrim Branch of the Vigil of Stendarr. Our Order was founded after the Oblivion Crisis to protect people from the Daedric horrors infesting this world." Carcette stood up to the old vulture, though on one knee, as was customary to those addressing a Jarl. "A month ago, a Necromancer was sighted in front of the Nightcaller's Temple, North of here. We have slain it, at Madena's report."

"And you want a reward, right?" Skald asked in a tone sharpened with venom. "How very saccharine of you." He looked to his Court Wizard. "And you, why did you summon them? Do your job."

"With all due respect, my Jarl," Madena replied. "I have vowed to never use magic to harm another since the Great War... be that a Bandit or a Necromancer."

"Useless." Skald muttered aloud.

A silence hung over the Longhouse.

Cura stared at the withered old man for a few seconds, and then shied away behind Carcette when Skald glared directly into her eyes.

"Hmph. I didn't know your Vigil was accepting little Urchins." the Jarl chuckled lightly. "You must be in a rough way. Ha ha ha!"

Carcette rolled her eyes, but did so discreetly as she waited for the old Horker to stop laughing. When he composed himself once more, Skald looked to her. "So, what do you want? I suppose I could donate to your little Cornerclub. You look like you could use it."

He was, of course, referring to their dated and brittle equipment, and their matted robes. Clearly unfit for hunting anything, let alone Daedra. This response and ignorant gesture hurt Carcette's pride, and the Keeper stood up. "We don't need your funding! We just need the word to be spread about for membership."

Isran, who was silent this whole time in the back, audibly cringed at the Keeper's rejection of monetary funds. He wanted to excavate the old Dawnguard fortress East of Riften in Dayspring Canyon. It would make for greater shelter against Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, and other worldly foes than their current wood house on the prairie. A little refurbishing would carry them a long way, and accepting funds would have helped with that. Unfortunately, he and Carcette could never see eye-to-eye.

Carcette turned to look at the Redguard, and gave him a cautionary glance before turning back to Jarl Skald. "It's only just, after all. We lost members protecting your Town from Daedric forces."

"Fine, is that all?" Skald asked dismissively.

"Yes." Carcette responded, and Isran facepalmed then and there. As the meeting concluded, he quickly headed out the door first.

"I will have my Steward offer missives to anyone who enters town, and send a Courier to various holds in Skyrim." Skald said, waving a hand with false enthusiasm. "Now, get lost."

Carcette looked at the Elder with scorn, but headed out the door after Isran and a couple of other Vigilants. Cura stayed behind a moment longer, and gave a friendly wave to Madena and the Guards before closing the door behind her.

Outside, the atmosphere was colder than it was before they entered the White Hall. The group was silent as they made their small journey back to the Hall of the Vigilant.

Isran threw the door open, and turned angrily to Carcette. "You are a fool! You've got no brain in that skull of yours at all, do you? I can't believe you were so stupid!"

"Excuse me?" Carcette snapped back, caught off-guard by the sudden whirlwind of insults.

"You could have demanded 7000 gold from him, at least, for services rendered, if you were bold enough!" Isran shouted. "That could have helped us! We could have upgraded our equipment! We could have relocated to a better location, and what did you ask for? New recruits. We have dwindling resources enough at it is!"

"He insulted our Order. I had to save face. If you ever lead something, you'll understand that!" Carcette shouted back. "You'd do well to know your place, while we're on the topic."

"How much longer do you intend to go on like this, Carcette?" Isran asked with a sneer. "We're sitting ducks! More bodies won't protect anybody if they have no weapons, no armour, no strategic location, no proper base of operations..."

"All of which will do us no good if nobody respects our Order!" Carcette clapped back.

"Respect is earned, Keeper." Isran said, veiling another point just waiting to be made as he spat that sentence out.

"Oh, and I'm not deserving of respect? Do you think I was gifted with the title of Keeper?" The flustered Breton sneered back.

"I don't know your History, and frankly I don't care to." Isran spouted. "I know a leader when I see one, and you are no leader. You're soft. Weak. Malleable. Always unprepared. I would make a better leader in my sleep."

Carcette immediately took her Warhammer off her back. "Then I suggest you leave." She narrowed her eyes.

Cura became anxious as she looked at her instructor and her Keeper.

Isran took off his own Warhammer. "Put your weapon away, Carcette. Or you won't like what happens next."

"Always so extreme." Carcette spat.

Isran moved a little to the side, tracking Carcette's movements with his eyes, and moving a little forward, causing her to flinch. Then he placed his Warhammer on his back. "Won't even attack me. Weak."

He turned away and glared at the other Vigilants.

"All of you. You're all going to die someday, and it will be her failures that lead up to it. If any of you have any sense, come with me, and we will work towards building our own Organization."

They all stared blankly at him, then began to discuss among each other, when one finally spoke up.

"I think we're fine right where we are, Isran. It's not worth it in the long run to just up and leave. We'll find another way to build ourselves up."

"Idiots." Isran sneered. "When the Vampires come knocking, you'll be sorry."

He headed to the door, when Cura ran and grabbed him. "Wait, please don't leave, Brother Isran!" She clenched him tightly. "We didn't finish my lessons!"

"Just 'Isran' now, Kid." The Redguard corrected her. He placed a hand on her head and moussed her head. "Maybe someday, you'll come to your senses and join me." When Cura slowly let go, Isran exited the Hall, leaving them behind him, forever.

A sadness swept the little Breton, and she turned to look at Carcette, who was sitting on a bench staring at the floor with her head between her hands. Cura scurried over and gently nudged Carcette's shoulder. "A-are you okay, Keeper?"

Carcette sighed. "Isran was our best strategist." She slowly shook her head. "By Stendarr, what have I done?"

She looked up towards the shrine on the table, uncertain about their future.

Cura did not fully understand the situation, but she did her best to comfort the disheartened Leader.


Six years had passed since Isran stormed out of the Vigil, and Cura continued her training with Carcette herself, and Vigilant Tolan, who became the new Strategist in Isran's place.

Cura had grown into a beautiful young woman with golden blonde hair, braided on the sides and held back, reaching down her shoulders. Her emerald eyes were sharper and wiser, and her skin bore the scars of some battles she had partaken in against wolves and the other beasts of the forest.

She was training in the forest again, when she encountered a Dunmer on the road. The Dunmer looked like a pilgrim of sorts. Cura was taught to keep away from Dunmer, as they were culturally Daedra-worshippers. Due to the Empire's politics, however, they were not to be killed. Cura approached with caution.

"Hello, Dunmer." Cura greeted. "Are you well?"

The Dark Elf eyed her suspiciously for a second, but spoke softly. "I'm well, sera." He kept a safe distance between them. "I'm on a Pilgrimage to the Shrine of Azura."

"Azura?" Cura did not recognize that name immediately, but then it clicked with her. Azura, the Daedric Prince of Dusk and Dawn. One of the more benign of the Daedric Princes. "Ah, I see."

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" The Dunmer asked, backing up slightly upon noticing the Amulet of Stendarr Cura wore around her neck.

"Hm? No, of course not!" Cura waved her hands in a reassuring manner. "As far as I know, Azura is all right, and Meridia. The others, however, are the ones to be concerned with."

"Good, then you'll let me go?" The Dunmer assured.

"Yes. Safe journey to you!" Cura said with a friendly nod.

The Dunmer looked at her like she had carrots poking out of her ears, then walked away irritated, muttering "N'wah". Whatever that meant.

Cura had kept it to herself, mostly, but she had a great admiration for the Daedric prince Meridia, due to her thwarting of the Undead and consistent battles against Daedric Lord Molag Bal. Surely, not all Daedra were bad.

On her way back to the Hall of the Vigilant, Cura regretted letting the Dunmer go, because she missed an opportunity to learn more about Azura. For an organization that directly opposed the Daedra, the Vigilants certainly weren't a well of knowledge on them.

Though, perhaps with the lack of funding, it was hard to scrape coin by and import the books needed.

Cura often wondered what became of Isran. Had he started his own Group? Was he alive? Did he take shelter in that Old Fort? Nobody knew, because he had mostly cut contact with the Vigil.

When she reentered the Hall, she saw Vigilant Celann talking to Keeper Carcette.

"You're really bad at this, Carcette. This place is going to the dogs." He shook his head disapprovingly. "If a werewolf or vampire were to come in here right now, we'd all be dead. You won't even invest in Crossbows!"

"I can't afford it, Celann!" Carcette explained. "Until the coin comes in from Vigilant Tyrannus' quest, we have to pinch every Septim."

Celann shook his head. 'Well, you'll have more coin to spare, I think. Here." He took off his Amulet of Stendarr, and laid it on the table near the Shrine. "Sell this. I quit." He walked past Cura and headed towards the door.

"Get back here! You can't quit!" Carcette began to follow him, but he ignored her calls. "Celann!"

Slam.

Another one walked away.

"Damn it." Carcette muttered disheartenedly. She walked over and hit the table with her fist, before sitting down, her head in her hands. A picture-perfect reenactment of the night Isran left. Cura again walked over to the Keeper, and tried to place a hand on her.

"Leave me alone!" Carcette snapped at her, causing Cura to recoil in surprise.

Cura looked concerned, but did not leave. Instead, she leaned against the table, and faced her maternal figure. "Are the coffers suffering again?"

"Sigh... yes. They always are, Cura." Carcette stated. "We need money, and lots of it. Isran was right... I'm a horrible leader."

"No you're not." Cura said, reassuringly. "You've just had a rough patch. You inherited this Hall, and you've been trying to make do with what you have! I don't fault you." She gave Carcette a friendly smile. "It's not like there are invisible chests where one could just pull out gold and equipment."

Carcette nodded. "It would be helpful if there were." She stood up and walked over to the Shrine, and examined the Daedra heart. Oddly enough, though it had been there for Six years, the blood within it was still ripe. Truly a mystery for the ages. "If it weren't for this Godsforsaken rebellion, I'd send letters to the Hall of the Vigilant in Cyrodiil and ask for their aid."

"I'm going to take that job, hunting a Werewolf outside of Darkwater Crossing." Cura said, as she looked at the small request board they had in the corner near the Hearth. "The Jarl of Windhelm is offering a handsome bounty of 1000 gold for its head."

"Cura, no! I don't want you getting involved in Eastmarch!" She was quick to the draw.

"Why?" Cura asked, confused.

"Because the seat of the Stormccloak Rebellion is there! It's too dangerous for you!" Carcette blasted. She hadn't told Cura much of the political dealings in the region but she expected her to at the very least know about the Civil War that was currently underway.

"I'm blonde; I'm sure I can pass for a Nord." Cura said, rolling her eyes.

"That's not what I mean." Carcette scoffed. "I meant that it's a turbulent region. They could take you in as a Prisoner of War. They may hate you for being a half-elf. Make no mistake-your forehead shows everything."

She pointed to the ridged brow Cura had, which was a staple among Altmer.

"But we need the funds." Cura said. "I'd do anything to help the Hall of the Vigilant. You know that!" She looked at Carcette with pleading eyes, just begging to bring a victory to their Hall.

"No!" Carcette shouted.

A moment of silence passed the two of them, before Cura spoke again. "I'm not a child anymore, Keeper Carcette. I can protect myself."

Carcette caught her breath. "Yes... yes, I know. But if you're going to go to Eastmarch, I demand you go with a partner or two."

"Okay!" Cura responded enthusiastically.

"And, I don't want you to get involved with those lowlifes that call themselves the Silver Hand, either. They may be Werewolf Hunters, but they're unorthodox, hedonistic trash. They don't know the might of Stendarr like we do." Carcette said this, brushing them off.

"I'll ask around the Hall." Cura said with a nod.

Carcette watched the young woman go, and a knot in her stomach turned. Cura had never gone this far from the Hall before, Eastmarch was incredibly far away; mountains away, in fact. The farthest Cura had ever gone was to Winterhold once, to deliver a Flame Atronach's head to Jarl Korir. Perhaps the Vigil was too soft on Cura for most of her life, but it was difficult for the Keeper to send her on extremely dangerous tasks.

Eventually, Cura had convinced two Vigilants to accompany her. She reported to Carcette. The Breton girl was wearing Novice Robes of Restoration, and a Novice hood, iron gauntlets and iron boots, and had an iron Shield and the Steel Mace of Embers Carcette kept on her table.

Cura smiled wistfully. "I'll be going, now."

Carcette walked forward, and took Cura's hands into her own. "Be safe, Cura. Stendarr be with you, always."

Cura nodded, and moved forward, embracing the Keeper. She held on for a full minute before releasing her. "You as well, Keeper."

When they released, Cura walked down the hill with the other two Vigilants, and waved a final goodbye before disappearing into the forest.

Carcette felt an intense sorrow grip her heart, and she felt, and feared deep within it, that this would be the last time she would ever see Cura. Her beloved Cura, who was dropped on their doorstep all those years ago. The Young, hopeful half-Elf.

Carcette walked back into the Hall, and slammed the door.