Cura and Lydia headed through drapes of Spider Webs, following the trail of blood that was dried and caked onto the verdant stone masonry beneath their feet. An enchanting sight, otherwise.
The sounds of working machinery filled the air.
This was beneath Markarth. It was absolutely built by the Dwemer. There were no other explanations for the phenomenon. Cura did not hold any love for that group of godless people, but she could respect their industry.
The fact these machinations still operated to this day was stunning enough, to say the least.
The golden pipes extended to the ceiling, almost feeling decorative, themselves. The Dwemer completely detached themselves from the world. No wonder they had such illusions of grandeur.
"Wow..." Lydia mused. "This is incredible."
They were on a stone bridge of sorts, above a large chasm of water. There were machine parts strewn about. A battle occurred here.
Cura and Lydia tread lightly over the long walkway and followed it down to a structural tower near the center, leading to a set of stairs beyond the gilded door.
They descended the first set of stairs and followed the path through the stone and steel grates, admiring the detailed face carvings on the walls, until they reached the body of a Breton, stained with rotting blood and burned clothing by a tree. It seemed Cura's initial impression was wrong; there was some nature to be found in the dark and unnatural environment.
Even from a distance, Cura felt sympathy for the corpse; what an awful way to die, his side impaled by a large, splintered object and burned viciously nearly beyond recognition. The only indication of him being a Breton was the chiseled forehead ridges and rounded, but slightly pointed ear and wiry frame.
She slowly approached the body, where there was another Journal, slightly singed and bloodstained.
She picked it up and opened it.
"I've decided to remain behind with one of our guards and further document the living area we've stumbled across. I write this to the best of my ability, but due to the sudden disappearance of the Dwemer it is almost impossible to say for certain what anything is.
The Tree
By the Nine I cannot determine the purpose of this tree. It appears to be from the area around Whiterun, but why and how it got here is beyond me. I think it may be a gift from the surface world, but based on the lavish surroundings it could also be a display of power. I'll check the living areas nearby for any additional clues.
Living Areas
Upon further investigation of the area, it looks like this structure houses two clans or families. I can think of no other reason for this particular layout. Perhaps this group oversaw this particular portion of the city? I'll have to compare notes from the other areas as we uncover more of the city - hopefully some of those will contain more in depth clues. It appears a smaller wing collapsed on itself and maybe when the expedition returns we can dig out an entrance.
Falmer have begun to creep back into this area of the ruins. It's a good thing I am not alone here. We've managed to block off some of the areas we suspect the Falmer were coming in through, but they're still getting to us somehow. Together we are able to hold them back, but how long until Staubin and the rest return."
After reading Stromm's journal Cura decided perhaps she could do a further service to Calcelmo by finding the three other journals of the missing expeditioners, belonging to Erj, Krag and Staubin, who were noted on the inner back cover. She was also warned that Falmer and Dwarven mechanisms will be encountered throughout the ruin, so she and Lydia would have to keep their guard up.
But what exactly was a Falmer? Cura was familiar with the name; the Snow Elves. But hadn't they all been killed by Ysgramor when he came to Skyrim from Atmora?
If they were here, she would find out soon enough, wouldn't she?
"I don't like the look of this, my Thane. Something vicious is lurking about this place... and it apparently can breathe fire." Lydia gestured towards the horrific burns and scarring on the corpse. "Do you think you could run if need be?"
Cura moved her leg forward and felt a tightness in her calf and behind her knee.
"I can try, but it will hurt."
"We shouldn't be here, then!" Lydia exclaimed.
Cura stubbornly pressed ahead, and headed inside of the main ruins. Lydia sighed and followed her Thane quickly, designing to shadow her every step.
From there, Cura knew that she had to go to the bottom level and swim to the door across the water to enter the Nchuand-Zel Armory, as the chiseled map on the wall at the door dictated.
Once inside, Lydia pointed to the path to the left, where they could glimpse to a locked golden metal gate. Suddenly, a snarl caught the pair off guard as a pale, grotesque and Goblinesque creature lunged at them, carving his sword in Cura's side, creasing her armour beneath the robes.
"Kah!" The Breton exclaimed in surprise.
The fiend was vile to look at and its deformed, batlike snout flared before its sunken, sullied red eyes. Cura cringed the deeper she gazed into the red orbs.
"Falmer!" Lydia shouted as more followed suit, pouring in from the next hall.
Immediately, Cura embedded her mace in the Falmer before her's forehead as he attempted to impale her. A few others rushed her and Lydia, missing horribly when they swung vertically to the ladies' sides.
They had poor eyesight, it would seem. Though, being that they live below ground, with the lack of proper lighting, it made perfect sense.
Cura followed up with a violent uppercut to his jaw, causing the foul near-goblin to fall backwards, dead.
Lydia managed to hold off a few of the horde, trading blows and blocking with her shield.
Cura observed this and beckoned to Lydia with a hand motion. "Lydia, run this way! Get behind me!" She leaned forward and tilted her body on an angle so Lydia could go around her in the narrow hallway.
The Valiant Housecarl nodded and retreated from the small horde, scrambling across the stone and steel grated platforms to her Thane's side, and shuffled around behind her, knowing what Cura intended to do.
The Falmer ran towards the Dragonborn, and she told them explicitly who she was by gesture alone.
"YOL TOOR!"
Cura opened her mouth and released a violent wave of all-consuming fire, which only caught and spread through the angered mob. The fuel tanks and pipes caught fire as well, immolating and congregating into a large explosion that consumed the hallways. Cura and Lydia both ducked for their lives as the wrathful firestorm blew overhead.
They heard, in the distance, the sounds of machinery failing and pipes bursting. A foolish miscalculation on the Breton's part, but a part of Cura wished that Vigilant Tolan was here to see the spectacle. She would surely have amused him. Anyone else, say the Keeper herself or Brother Adalvald, would give her a stern talking-to about reckless behaviour.
Eventually, the smoke cleared and the pair lifted themselves out of the ashes. Lydia shook some of the soot out of her hair and gave Cur aa slap in the shoulder. "Are you insane?! What is wrong with you?! That could have killed us both!"
Cura rubbed her shoulder after the slap, and could only chuckle, as she had no defense for herself. It was indeed an idiotic endeavour. Seeing the displeased and condescending gaze of Lydia made the Dragonborn feel less than. All she could muster up was. "We're still alive though, aren't we?"
"I was expecting a 'Fulse'." Lydia shrugged. "Or... is it 'Fos'?"
"Do you mean 'Fus'?" Cura asked, raising her voice lightly, causing Lydia to flinch in instinctive fear. The Breton quickly cupped her hands over her mouth and began to giggle. She didn't mean to frighten Lydia, but it was a priceless reaction.
"Don't do that!" Lydia rebuked, placing a hand over her heart.
"I'm sorry, Lydia." Cura finally stopped chuckling. "Let's... just keep moving, all right?"
Lydia nodded with a huff. Nobody said being a Housecarl would be easy, but being Housecarl to the Dragonborn felt nearly impossible.
The pair approached the gate to the west side of the Hall, which was lightly scorched from the explosion, which also loosened its hinges. It was a quick push open. Cura and Lydia ascended a flight of stairs and found the corpse of another explorer, with a journal and what seemed to be a Dwarven treasure chest behind him; complete with stone and metal mechanism on it.
Cura cautiously approached for closer inspection. "Another Breton." She noted as she saw his face and his pronounced brow and slightly pointed ears. "'Erj. That doesn't sound like a very Breton name." Cura shrugged on it. She supposed one could say the same to her own name, being the Colovian word for "Cure". She took the journal from under his slumped hand. She took it into her own and began to read it.
"How foolish to move through this place so quickly. It's taken me only a few hours to crack the back gate. Maybe I'll donate a cup or two, but Krag says he knows some private buyers who will pay handsomely for a working trinket. There has to be one in here.
The side doors are all locked, but this chest should have one or two things of value. When I get out I'm going to buy myself a castle."
After reading his journal, Cura closed the covers tightly. Of course they did all this for the almighty septim. But the more she thought about it, she was essentially in the same predicament as them, just for the Hammer of her Deity. A noble motivation, an avaricious motivation, and yet both led them to the same place.
Only, Cura vowed she would not die in here; she had many things to be done, and Skyrim would need its Dragonborn. She went down on one knee and granted a blessing to the deceased. "Rest in peace, Erj. I will find out where your friends are, and I will make sure the world knows of your endeavours."
She got up and tuurned around, and continued following the path to a door, and seemingly an exit back out to Nchuand-Zel's public area.
"Lydia?" She realized that her Housecarl disappeared. Oh, no. This would not do. Cura walked a little backwards, when Lydia caught up with a large bag on her back. Cura raised an eyebrow. "Lydia? What..."
"You forgot about the Treasure Chest, my Thane." Lydia stated as she opened the bag. "I've found a few interesting things in there! Take a look!"
Cura's eyes fell upon it. A lovely golden Mace. Was this Elven? She quickly examined the golden mace, and noticed that it was made of Dwarven Steel, and was a cubic shape on its head. "A Dwarven Mace! How fascinating."
She gave the blunt weapon a few practice swings, and it fit nicely in her grasp. Cura gave her Skyforge Steel Mace to Lydia and decided to use the Dwarven Mace for now. After all, she felt a tad disconnected from the Companions. Perhaps she could experiment with a bit of Dwemer Technology; see what makes it so special.
After they exited the door, they went straight on the suspended stone walkway, where they noticed another dead body of yet another Breton in black robes, and his journal at a makeshift campsite. There were many bloodstains on the floor and the bodies of two dead Imperial guards who had been overseeing the expedition. Nearby, there was a large Dwarven metal statue, which also had vital residue splattered on it.
To Cura, this indicated a slumbering ambush and slaughter by Falmer, most probably. To the left, on a bench, was an Alteration-symboled book, titled "Sithis", bearing a transmodified tree on its red cover. Cura bypassed this and took the Journal. She opened it and read aloud.
"I knew if we dug deep enough we'd eventually hit some fresh ruins. Markarth, a city built upon a city. From early pieces recovered we've determined the name of the city is Nchuand-Zel, but past that we have very little info. We've been given an escort through and tomorrow we will delve into the city proper.
It's only been a day and I already miss my desk and chair. I thought it would be a little more fun to explore, but so far it's just been fighting spiders and getting to view an occasional rubble pile. Hopefully we get to the main room soon so we can set up a camp and I can start cataloguing some of the items I've been able to find.
We found the Armory earlier and Erj has stayed behind to find a way into the main vault. If anyone can open the locks it's him. We've kept going and settled up here for the night since the guards say it will be easy to defend. I've put up a few runes just in case."
Cura frowned as she closed the journal. "Poor fellows. They could never have suspected this." Again, she imparted a blessing upon the deceased.
"My Thane?" Lydia called out to the saddened Vigilant.
"I'm coming, Lydia." Cura droned. "These men had dreams, ambitions... and in one fell swoop, they were all dashed and taken from them. It just isn't fair. It's not right!" She stamped her foot in frustration. "I don't even know where they're from-if they have families back home... people who wonder where they've been, or what's happened to them... if they have Parents, Wives, Children..." The thought made her even sadder. Cura had to stifle herself, lest she fall apart.
Even Lydia believed the gods made a mistake in making her Dragonborn; she was easily perturbed and disheartened.
"Well, my Thane... I think the path to the left will lead up to the door to Nchuand-Zel Control." Lydia pointed to the door above them to their right. "Don't think too much about the explorers; just focus on not falling off the edge here." The Nord had to grab Cura by her robe's brown leather cowl to prevent her misstep off the platform. She hadn't been paying attention as they walked.
When they entered the hall within, immediately the pair noticed Falmer off in the distance, and the pair seemed to be distant. It was rather easy for them to sneak past the tarnished Elves and through the mechanical main room. They took to the main path, and eventually came ipon the control center; complete with a switch and everything. And there and then, they found Staubin's dead body and journal. It had to be, as he was the last member of the expedition team. Cura imparted the appropriately final blessing upon the dead. She picked the journal up. "Staubin. That's a Breton-sounding name." Cura mused as she opened it, her suspicions now confirmed.
"After making our way down the mine and through the spiders we've finally made it down to Nchaund-Zel proper. They've built this city into the very cave walls that house it. Amazing. Nchuand-Zel hums with life, but its guardians lay dormant, hopefully we can learn more as we go deeper.
This area seems to be where two of the city's families lived. We've spent some time studying this tree outside the dwellings but cannot figure out what its significance is. Stromm will be remaining behind with one of the students to further study this area in greater depth. I look forward to reading his notes on the subject.
Today we entered the city's armory. The Falmer have yet to break into the best of the dwarven goods thanks to the sturdy dwemer locks. Erj said he would be able to get into the vaults and would send word when he's in. The spiders gave us much trouble but who could have foreseen they've been the only thing keeping Markarth safe?
After exiting the Armory we made camp, but the Falmer have been watching us and finally tired of our intrusion. They came while we slept and slaughtered what guards were left. Meridia forgive me for using my students as a distraction to get away, but I have to bring this place back to life.
too many...
couldn't hit switch..."
The switch?
Cura noticed a laver on the table beside Staubin. She had to maneuver around his body to reach it, which caused something interesting to fall out of his pocket.
It looked like a ball made of glass with many faces-like a carved Diamond, its intent to pass along light.
How curious! Cura quickly picked it from the ground, when a voice suddenly resonated through her in acknowledgement. It sounded like a woman, but her voice was exceptionally clear and refined, if not very stern.
"A new hand touches the beacon. Listen. Hear me and obey. A foul darkness has seeped into my temple. A darkness that you will destroy. Return my beacon to Mount Kilkreath. And I will make you the instrument of my cleansing light."
Cura was stunned in that instant.
"My Thane, are you well?" Lydia asked her, placing a hand on her shoulder to wake her from her trance.
"Lydia-I just heard a woman's voice." Cura raised an eyebrow. "Mount Kilkreath... a temple..."
Lydia shrugged. "I've never been there."
"I think we should look into this, once we've escaped this ruin." Cura stated. "I think... cleansing light... I think that was Meridia. Staubin was a follower of hers.. perhaps he was going to her Temple afterwards, but never could."
"My Thane, you hate the Daedra! What are you doing?" Lydia snapped.
"Not all of them..." Cura admitted. "I personally have no ill will towards Azura or Meridia, from what I know of them."
Immediately, the pair were interrupted by inquisitive footsteps of mumbling Falmer, coming up the hall. They were too loud.
Cura was now tasked with re-activating Nchuand-Zel's automated defense system, as Staubin almost had. She raced to the lever, and immediately pulled it down. A loud hiss resounded through the area, followed by massive chugging of gears.
"Now!"
Cura scrambled onto her feet and rushed around the counter as a Mechanical Spider came out of a hole in the wall-mechanically designed to suit it. Cura grabbed Lydia's wrist and rushed through a hallway where countless of these metal spiders began to come flying out of the walls.
The Falmer began to wrestle with these automatons for their lives, but it was in vain as they were carved and electrocuted by the machinations. Stones began to fall from the ceiling by exertion, almost hitting Cura and Lydia, but the Nord held up her shield to guard them both. Cura did the same, using it as a head covering as the pair fled out of Nchuand-Zel and into the large water-logged common area, where the Dwarven Metal Statue had come to life and was spewing steam at a few Falmer.
Suddenly, Cura was sideswiped by a large metal rod that buried itself in her side, and swept her off the platform with its sheer momentum.
"CURA!" Lydia screamed as the Breton hit the water below. Another rod lapped past her and buried itself into the wall nearby, and Lydia located the source of these sharp javelins: a Ballista-a Dwarven mechanism that created these rods and spat them out like a crossbow. And in that instant, it was readying another.
Lydia made a quick decision to dive off the platform into the water below, where she saw Cura struggling to pull the javelin out of her body beneath the water. Blood rose like a plume from the frantic Breton, and Lydia was quick to retrieve her from the depths as she began to slip in and out of consciousness. Lydia dragged Cura onto the rocks far away from the big battle and pulled the Javelin out of her side herself, which caused Cura to gasp loudly from the shock, and she then flew into a coughing fit, spitting up water and blood.
"My Thane, please be still!" Lydia demanded as she tried to hold her in place, in the hopes of avoiding negative attention from their enemies.
Cura winced and whimpered as she grasped her bleeding side. Instinctively, she cast a healing spell on herself, quickly closing up the hole in her body. When the flesh rethreaded itself, she threw her head back and released a sigh of relief. A tremendous exhaustion overtook her. She needed to rest again. It was too soon for this.
Falmers' screams could still be heard off in the distance until they eventually fell silent.
Lydia breathed lightly. "All that remains are those machines..." She stood up from behind the rock and saw the large statue fumbling about with an injured leg. She knew what she needed to do.
Lydia took out her bow and knocked an arrow on it. This was her chance. She had to defend her Thane to the death-which would not be today!
She loosed the arrow, and it whizzed through the air like a dart, and planted itself in the faulty joint of the large Centurion, causing the cords to snap and the large construct to tumble over the walkway and collapse into the water below.
Lydia wiped some sweat off her brow. One down.
The other machines were alerted; some smaller ones that rolled around in the form of a ball and unfolded themselves into machines with bladed arms. Thankfully they could not figure out where the arrow came from and went back onto their patrols.
Cura finally caught her breath. "I should have rested another week..."
"And you will!" Lydia demanded angrily. "Now lie there and shut up until I've taken the rest of them out!" She moved ahead once more and sniped another Dwarven construct, causing it to fall into the water and short-circuit.
Cura was impressed by Lydia's eagle eye shooting. She was clearly training with Aela. Or perhaps Lydia had an innate talent in Marksmanship that she often hid? Still, Cura was grateful for it. It was saving her life.
Lydia was incredible; she killed, for lack of a better word, all of the constructs in the area without them noticing her. All that remained was the Ballista, and they could make their way along the upper walkways and out of these accursed ruins.
Cura slowly pulled herself up onto her feet with a heaving grunt. She held her side, which, even though it was healed, grieved her. The damp air most likely had a hand to play in the afteraches. Lydia helped her stand for a moment.
"All right... now we can leave?" Cura asked, still coming to grips with reality.
"We'll have to fight that Ballista." Lydia stated.
"A Ballista?" Cura raised an eyebrow.
"The bastard that shot you." Lydia reiterated.
Cura agreed. "I'd like to get a few licks in there." She put her right foot forward and felt a wobble. Her leg still hadn't fully recovered. This was all a fool's errand. How would she even expect to lift Stendarr's Hammer, let alone get it to the Hall of the Vigilant? She hadn't thought it through at all. And now, to top it off, Meridia wants her help, as well. How could she refuse one of the only Daedra she actually holds some respect for?
Cura decided to chug a Stamina Potion and be done with this.
Her legs regained their strength, and she leapt into the water, with Lydia going in behind her. The pair swam across from the jutted rocks and onto the main platform. They climbed on top and Cura nearly slipped on some Dwarven oil that was seeping from a container within one of the Constructs. She got the idea that, since they were here, maybe they could salvage some pieces of technology for Calcelmo as well as the Journals.
Cura decided to lay low and scavenge the parts that were above the water-like a few Soul Gems, which seemed to be used to power these things. She gathered several canisters of Dwemer Oil, a couple of Gyro pieces, and a small strut of metal and some scraps, which she promptly bagged.
After some cautious navigation, Cura and Lydia spotted that rotten Ballista roaming the wharf on the top, before the exit door. Cura felt a twinge of spite and acted on it immediately. Before the Ballista could notice her, she struck first from afar.
"FUS!"
Her shout was enough to rattle the thick metal monstrosity, but not enough to knock it off the wharf, with its weight considered. The mechanical menace finished throttling, and loaded another javelin onto its thruster.
Cura quickly held up her shield and went low on one knee, so as to protect her face, stomach, and legs from the flying spike.
The mech did not hesitate to fire straight for her, and as if another attempt to make a fool of herself, the javelin splintered through the Skyforge Steel Shield, halting mere inches from Cura's left eye..
So, the Dwarven equipment was more powerful than Skyforge Steel! Unbelievable. These Dwemer are just full of surprises, aren't they?
Cura quickly lifted off her knees and ran forward as the mech loaded another javelin.
"Watch out, my Thane!" Lydia shouted as the Ballista fired off another round. She herself was laying low as the mech was distracted. With bow in hand, Lydia aimed at the malignant metal monstrosity.
Cura had a glint in her eye as she tracked the angle of the shot. When the Ballista fired another javelin at her, Cura quickly side-flipped off the platform and caught herself on its edge in effort to dodge on the narrow path.
Now, though, she was hanging on the edge. Not exactly the most ideal position to be in when a person is worn out.
The Ballista, however, lost sight of Cura due to this, and instead turned its programmed gaze to Lydia, who fired an arrow into its sensor.
Cura then sidled along the path, and, gripping with her left hand onto the surface, used her new Dwarven metal Mace to smash its leg when it came into her range. The machine faltered, and Cura used it to pull herself back onto the path. She then smashed it from behind a few times, eventually hitting something important and revealing its inner core, after breaching through the thin sheet of metal.
She saw the Grand Soul Gem within and, with reckless abandon and activation of her Dragon Skin, Cura pried the gem out of the Ballista, causing it to explode in a burst of ethereal energy and knocking her backwards. Thankfully, her Dragon Skin absorbed the bulk of the blast for her. With her Magicka recharged, Cura immediately cast another Healing Spell on herself and on Lydia once she approached.
"My Thane..." Lydia mused. "That was wholly unnecessary and incredibly foolish of you. I'd expect a Breton to be smarter than that."
"I suppose it must be my inner Nord." Cura laughed. "Besides-Bretons are from High Rock-I'm not sure how I'd classify myself." She turned back towards the exit door. "It just seems simpler."
Lydia shrugged. "It was definitely the Nord in you." She chuckled sheepishly as they finally left the damp ruins behind them.
Eventually, the pair walked past dead Nimhe and through the caverns, and lumbered through the door back into Understone Keep, where, sure enough, Calcelmo was still there working on his experiments.
Aicantar alerted his uncle. "Uncle Calcelmo, look!" He gestured for him to look up and see Cura and Lydia returning.
"Ah, you've returned. How did things go with Nimhe?" Calcelmo asked.
"The spider is long dead... and I've also discovered Ruins beyond its cave." Cura admitted. "There was an expedition there. Do you know anything about that?"
"Ys. Staubin, Erj, Krag, and Stromm." Calcelmo acknowledged the team. "They were insistant on going in there. Were they successful? Do they need reinforcements?"
Cura fell silent momentarily. Sh wasn't entirely sure how to break the sad news to the old wizard. Once she mustered them up, she opened her mouth, diverting from the grimness of it. "I've found these expedition journals..." Cura handed the old Altmer the four journals she had found within the ruins.
"Let's see. Ah, so that's what happened to Staubin. Tragic, but I warned him he was leading those people on a fool's errand. Unfortunately, sometimes the stone of scholarship is built on the foundation of death." Calcelmo spoke with a lukewarm sigh. He had clearly accepted this a long time ago. He noticed Cura's disheartenment, and decided to reassure the sensitive Breton. "I'll inform the kin. Here, I usually pay researchers for their works when they emerge from the ruins, but they won't be needing it anymore."
He gave Cura a coin purse containing 700 gold.
"Thank you." Cura said softly.
"No, I should be thanking you. You rid us of Nimhe, and the potential threats within the ruins!" Calcelmo stated. "That will make researching it much less difficult."
"And I've obtained a few articles for your study within it." Cura stated as she brought out the scraps, soul gems, and oils, layign them on his stone slab of a table.
"Most impressive!" Calcelmo exclaimed, overjoyed. "You've done so much for me in this short time. I have written this permission slip for you."
"Permission slip?" Cura wondered.
"Yes. You still want that Hammer, don't you?" Calcelmo reminded her of why she came to begin with.
"Of course!" Cura exclaimed.
"It's yours." Calcelmo said with a smile. "After all you've done to help me, I'd be honoured to part with it to you. It was mostly collecting dust in there, anyway."
Cura nodded and took the permission slip. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."
"Likewise. Now, take that to the Guard at the museum entrance and leave me to my studies." Calcelmo stated.
Cura and Lydia took it from there and after some wandering, they found a lone door with a Guard standing in front of it.
The Guard was about to approach Cura when she came closer, and she held out the permission slip. "Calcelmo's given me permission to take an artifact from within."
"Very well; the artifact, but don't touch anything else." The Guard warned her as he opened the door for Cura. "We'll be watching you."
After some wandering through the open area of the large museum, past the display cases and past the identical horrors to what they'd encountered only mere minutes ago, Cura eventually spotted it.
Releasing an audible gasp, she ran through the museum, her excited footsteps echoing through the open halls.
There it was; Stendarr's Hammer itself! She could just feel the immense power emanating from it. Cura immediately dropped to her knees before it and pulled her hood down, kneeling in reverence.
The Hammer was a beauty; fine Aedric craftsmanship. It sat upon a stone slab, like a makeshift altar. Its gorgeous silver and ebony shone in the dim lighting, and the symbol engraved on the sides of its head resembled much an eye with two curved lines extending outwards from the top and bottom of it. The tip of the head had spike protruding from its rim, and a spike sat atop, similar to a Halberd.
"If I had a hammer..." Lydia muttered. "...it certainly wouldn't be as clumsy as that."
"Lydia!" Cura exclaimed angrily. "Have respect! This is the hammer of a god we're talking about! In fact, this warhammer is the reason why Vigil members use Blunt weapons."
"Dibella has a paintbrush. That doesn't make it pretty automatically." Lydia shrugged, entitled to her opinion.
Cura scoffed. "Whatever, Lydia." She grabbed the hammer by its hilt, and with some struggle at first, eventually managed to pull it up, almost falling on her ass in the process. "Whoa!"
Lydia pushed her forward to prevent her fall and keep her steady while she held the large weapon in both hands, raised to the ceiling. If not for her Draconic strength, Cura would never have been able to lift it. Even still, the Breton perched the Legendary Hammer on her back. "Let's get this back to the Vigil."
"Lead the way." Lydia gestured ahead.
Cura waddled forward, the awkwardness of the hammer weighing her backwards a little as she stepped forward. Eventually, the pair made it outside the Keep, and Fast Travelled out of the accursed city before more madness could find them.
Lydia almost threw up there in the snow bank before the Hall, and Cura almost passed out. Lydia gripped onto her for support and the pair walked up the stairs, catching the eye and awe of all the Vigilants around, who recognized the Hammer on Cura's back.
Cura panted heavily as she laboured her way up to the personless Shrine. "Keeper!" She shouted for Carcette to come over. "I have it! Keeper!" Her voice laboured with her strained breaths.
Cura quickly removed the heavy weapon from her back, and Vigilant Tolan was the first to come to aid in leaning the hammer against the table. Brother Adalvald came up the stairs, as did Moric and a couple of other Vigilants, curious as to what was going on.
Keeper Carcette threw the door to her bedroom open and rushed over.
"It's-is it really..." Tolan stammered, awestruck at the sight of Stendarr's mighty Hammer.
"It is!" Moric exclaimed in excitement. "It's Stendarr's Hammer!" He went over to Cura, took her by the shoulders and gave her a kiss on both cheeks. "Bless your heart, girl, you've done it!"
Keeper Carcette stared at the artifact, almost teary-eyed. "We're going to build a proper Shrine for it." She said as she knelt before the Artifact.
The other Vigilants followed suit, and all began to prostrate themselves before the Holy Weapon.
Cura had no energy left. She simply nodded a couple of times before collapsing to the floor, once again.
"Cura!" Lydia exclaimed in shock and the others turned to see her on the floor.
"Oh, not again!" Tolan stated.
"She's overdone it once more." Brother Adalvald stated sorrowfully.
Keeper Carcette rushed to Cura's side and examined her. "Poor Cura... you always work so hard... you truly are the best of us." She laid a gentle hand on Cura's face, and ordered the others to carry her to her room. "Get some rest. You have more than earned it."
"You have no idea what she's had to go through to get that Hammer." Lydia stated matter-of-factly. "She's been impaled through her side, almost drowned, almost burned to death for your Hammer."
"In stealing from a Museum?" Moric raised his eyebrows.
"She nearly died running an errand for the Museum curator because she didn't want to violate your religious tenets!" Lydia sneered. "All you can say is 'you've earned some rest'? What is wrong with you people?" The Nord became frustrated and went to sit on the bench nearby. "You treat the Dragonborn like she's some kind of Courier!"
Keeper Carcette's face sombered. "Vigilant Cura is one of our organization. She's still expected to do her part within it. I was more than lenient with her when I allowed her to join the Companions, I think. I can't treat her too cordially, otherwise she may forget her place before Stendarr."
"Not like she had much of a choice otherwise, huh?" Lydia snarked. "You literally raised her to do your bidding."
"Stendarr's bidding, not mine." Carcette soured.
"Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that." Lydia spat. "You could have sent anybody to get that Hammer, and according to Calcelmo, there was another Vigilant who asked him! Why couldn't they steal it? Why send Cura?"
"Because she volunteered to do it, actually." Moric corrected her. "And watch your tongue!"
Lydia was becoming increasingly frustrated. "You're all running her ragged. Cura is hurting within! She needs help. Your religion is strangling her. She becomes so guilty-so fearful-so judgmental on herself. It's sad."
"Stendarr calls for us to live just lives." Brother Adalvald explained. "We all stumble, true, but we can always be forgiven if we ask for it. He is the God of Mercy, after all."
"Mercy, my foot." Lydia scoffed. "What God of Mercy swings a Warhammer? Stuhn is a God of Ransom and Order. He's not some Court Judge. He is the Executioner."
"Are you finished?" Vigilant Tolan asked her, his voice dry and irritated. "Stendarr is all of these things."
"Stendarr is dead!" Lydia scoffed. "That hammer is a memento, nothing more."
"Because you are Cura's Housecarl, I will let you live past that blasphemy, as mercy is one of our tenets." Keeper Carcette crossed her arms. "But don't expect a warm welcome here ever again."
She meant it, and her words hung in the air like a bad cloud. It took a moment for Lydia to fully soak it in, but she realized she did not much like the Vigil, herself. She would only ever go there for Cura, whom she felt was being treated unfairly by Dragonborn standards. Thefirst and last Dragonborn were the Emperors of Tamriel, after all. The first female Dragonborn was St. Alessia herself of legend. Tiber Septim himself was Dragonborn! Talos! Whether people accepted him as a god or as a warrior, he still held the Dragon's blood within his veins. The dreadful Potema Septim was also Dragonborn, and incredibly powerful and dangerous. All Dragonborn are destined for greatness. Why should the current and potentially final one in existence be relegated to a cheap errand-runner for these zealous clowns?
"Fine." Lydia threw her hands up in the air dismissively. "You can punish me all you like. Just stop pushing Cura. You've caused her so much harm, and I do care about her, which is more than I can say for you." She pointed straight at Carcette when she said this.
That did it. Keeper Carcette stepped forward, and catching the Nord off-guard, she slapped Lydia across the face so hard that she stumbled backwards off the bench. "Get out of my Hall! Out!" The Breton woman snapped like a furious dog.
Lydia slowly lifted herself up off the floor and massaged her aching cheek. She stared into Carcette's eyes, and threw a punch back, teaching this High Rock denizen what Skyrim was about. Her fist collided with the Keeper's cheek, causing Carcette to fly backwards.
Immediately, Tolan removed his warhammer and rushed towards Lydia, who put up her shield to block it.
The other Vigilants began to attack her with their maces, trading blows until Lydia was overwhelmed and brought to her knees, labouring for breath.
Keeper Carcette felt her cheek to ensure nothing was broken. Fortunately, Lydia did not connect with the bone directly. "I'll tell Cura that if she wants to see you again, she'll have to go to you." Keeper Carcette stated. "If you ever come into this Hall again, it will be your last breath. Are we clear?"
Lydia's face fell. She slowly lifted herself back up. "...Fine, then. But if Cura dies because you wear her to the bone, I will come back and kill all of you." She narrowed her eyes as she headed for the door. "Tell her I'll be at the Windpeak Inn, in Dawnstar." She exited and slammed the door on her way out.
The Keeper stood there, and as her anger subsided, it was replaced with hollow sadness.
It was true. She was very harsh towards Cura from time to time, but she did love her, like a daughter. Lydia was wrong on hat account.
Carcette turned to Tolan. "Have I been unfair with Cura, Vigilant Tolan?"
"You do belittle her and coddle her quite a lot, to be honest." Tolan admitted. "But I know where you're coming from. I love her like she was my own child, too."
"In hindsight, perhaps Cura was the best choice to send for the Hammer." Moric explained. "It would have been far more difficult for any one of us to bring that Hammer here, let alone steal it. Her Dragon blood grants her power beyonf our comprehension. Surely that had a part to play in this."
"Right... her Dragon blood." Carcette murmured. That accursed Dragon blood, that drove this wedge to begin with. If only the Dragons could all just return from whence they came. Then life could return to normal.
But, what was normal?
Moric would still be trapped as a slave to the vampire Minorne in Ruunvald, the Hall of the Vigilant would still be a shabby, slowly-degrading roadside Inn, their equipment would be old and falling into disrepair, they would not have the Ring of Hircine under lock and key, nor the Staff of Ruunvald, they would not have a foothold in Whiterun, and they certainly would not have Stendarr's very Hammer right there, leaning against the Shrine if it weren't for Cura's labours.
It was true. They demanded so much from her. Especially once her Dragon blood was revealed. But still, most of it was Cura's volunteering. Though, she always sought the Keeper's elusive approval. Since she was an infant, in fact.
The Keeper found she was fair towards Cura in sparing her life during the Werewolf escapades, but when she gave it more thought, what could they have done against her to begin with? Nothing. That white wolf could have torn them apart limb by limb without so much as being fazed by their steel weapons. Heck, even now, in Human form, Cura could easily take them apart. If she could carry Stendarr's Hammer on her back, her strength was beyond that of an ordinary mortal. And that Voice...
A vision returned of Cura's powerful Shout that both awestruck and horrified the Keeper when that Dragon was felled in the Pale, complete with the wrathful blaze. Cura was certainly a very powerful being. Her dream from all those years ago even revealed this to her. Perhaps Lydia was right; she treated this powerful entity like a child who she would send to the General Store.
But how else could she treat Cura? She wouldn't want the power to get to her head, because that in and of itself could be incredibly dangerous for everyone involved. Though, someday she might drop her humility and run fast in the pursuit of power. What then?
The Keeper ruminated on these thoughts as she walked downstairs to Cura's bedroom, where she saw the younger Breton laying in her bed, floored by her reopened wounds, as she could see the bloodstains on her pants beneath the robe bottom, around her knees, and on her arms. There were fresh injuries, as well. Perhaps the Dragon blood was a good thing; if she were anyone else, she would surely have died many times over.
"Sigh... Cura..." Keeper Carcette moved some of the hair off the young Breton's brow. "Please, you must heal before throwing yourself into danger. Please, just rest. Rest for the next few weeks." She leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the forehead before slowly raising the blanket over her shoulders, covering the exhausted Cura.
Then Carcette realized how small Cura's little room was. There was barely walking space. Perhaps they could renovate it; give her more storage space, more comfort when she comes home. And perhaps some new bedsheets and more comfortable pillows, as well. Perhaps instead of changing her behaviour entirely, she could begin some positive change with a small gesture of kindness. Nobody could object to it.
After all, she more than earned it.
