A/N: Don't know nothin' about designer breeding.
Bloodmoney
The Windhelm Argonians were tribeless descendants of slaves with no families, no ties in Black Marsh to send their bodies to. They were cremated at Refugees' Rest. The ashes were not sent to Black Marsh to be dumped on the wayside in some distant swamp but taken by Lord Revyn to the southern part of Eastmarch and into the Eldergleam Sanctuary.
Eldergleam was not the Hist, but Curtis hoped the sacred tree and its guardian spriggans would have no objections. That being the case, Joric and Curtis went to the Temple of the Divines and offered prayers at Kynareth's shrine for the souls of their friends. Curtis always liked that cave and was horrified to see that if the player chose the path of violence, the tree, and the entire cave ecosystem, died. There were a couple of other caves like that in the Game where killing the guardians, be they spriggans or giants, destroyed everything.
A pretty heavy-handed metaphor, but, yeah.
Sadly, Joric had no visions to add to the investigations, and it sounded like Lord Revyn had already mouthed off a lot of instructions transcribed and thrown into the winds. Scary. Curtis really didn't like how the gods kept pulling strings. Sure, it was fine in a fantasy game or novel, but in real life, it was just creepy, even if they were "friends on the other side."
Actually, Joric did have reoccurring nightmares of dying in the explosion. They both hoped that once they got to the Vale, the Snowmer dreamers could help him take apart the dreams and find some helpful clues.
The Snowmer slaves stashed in Morvarth's Lair were cautiously enthusiastic after being provided generous portions of healthy foods and a warm, secure place to sleep. Their Winterhold wizard hosts provided information about Skyrim, the college, the Dragonborn, and Dwemer Master Curtis.
Curtis introduced Jarl Idgrod the Younger to them as their primary caretaker. Curtis was too busy doing promotional work for Winterhold College and House Mora (the first Dunmer House to be based in Skyrim). Joric would represent Hjaalmarch at a few parties hosted by Jarl Elisif while conducting some workshops re-introducing the God Jhunal to the world.
Money, money, money.
The Snowmer had thrown a big wrench in the works, and plans were being altered because of this. Still, the supplies Curtis had gathered in Winterhold were en route to Darkfall Cave as scheduled. He was the frontman, so he played it big to keep all eyes on him in Solitude. And thanks to the news he'd heard about Lady Caitlin, the future queen of The Reach, he thought it would be good to push up the time on his visit to Nchuand-Zel.
Now that Markarth no longer answered to the Empire, large-scale exploration of Dwemer ruin within the Hold — no, the independent kingdom — no longer required permission from Cyrodiil. It was long-standing Imperial law that claimed all Dwemer ruins were the property of the Imperial throne. A law impossible to enforce and only cited if one tried to march centurions and other weapons out or make profits from items that can only be gotten from Dwemer ruins. In The Reach, you only needed permission from the local government or Calcelmo.
He and his Dwemer would go there as an expedition team to explore the underground ruins. As a favor to the new Queen of the Reach, they'd fix some of the plumbing problems in the overhead palace. And while they did that, they'd bring out some moderately-sized digging and work machines from underground. And while everybody was watching that, they'd smuggle out the giant disassembled work centurions because Curtis needed them for major earth-moving projects in the Vale.
At the same time, the extradition team, led by Idgrod's Cousin Yannig, would disappear into the mountain trails into High Rock. Yannig's objective was to find the Snowmer still hiding in Hammerfell, get them to Jehenna in High Rock, and get on a boat to Solitude and Tel Windstad. The final trip to the Vale would happen after security protocols had been completed.
Money, money, money. Unexpected events, project delays, project spec changes — and the contractor took suicidal risks of eating the costs with no guarantee of repayment. So the "Dragonborn Show" would run for the rest of the summer tourist season in the Bards' College courtyard. Curtis would also sell the rest of his music boxes at high-roller auctions.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
At midnight, a small Imperial schooner docked at a pier reserved and guarded by Legionnaires soldiers. Two Dawnguard soldiers disembarked first, looked around, then signaled to those still on the ship. They came down, silent figures enveloped in long, hooded black cloaks.
Curtis strode confidently towards them but was blocked by one of the Dawnguards.
"Hey, chill, bro. I'm the one who invited Lady Volkihar here. Fuck! What'd you do that for?" he yelled as a hot, blinding light exploded in his face.
"Just checking to see if you were a vampire or a thrall," said the Dawnguard, unapologetic.
"By blinding me?"
"It'll wear off."
"You overreact, as usual, Blunder," said Lady Volkihar, her chuckle edged with scorn.
"Belendir," growled the Dawnguard to Curtis.
She took Curtis's arm and laid her hand over his eyes. When she removed it, his sight was better than before, and his headache was gone. He hadn't slept last night because of an all-night gambling party where he'd made a bundle thanks to Dumac's card-counting ability and telekinetic control over dice. The two-hour nap he'd managed in an empty room of the Blue Palace before maids chased him out hadn't been enough for recovery.
"Thanks, my lady." He offered his arm, she took it, and he briskly walked to another dock where two flat-bottom boats waited to take them to Tel Windstad.
He explained the unexpected Snowmer, the reason he'd invited her to come to Hjaalmarch. More genetic research.
"Ah, yes, more genetic diversity. So, Altmer and Redguard cross, possibly some Ayleid. Speaking of which, I got that delivery of fertile Falmers. A third of them have Dwemer blood but not enough to skew results."
"Got all you need?" Curtis asked Lady Volkihar.
"Yes, for now."
"Um, yeah. What are you looking for?"
"Technically, the Falmer are still purebreds even though mutated by mushrooms. I want to see if the cells from these hybrid descendants can influence the development of the babies."
"I see."
"I currently have a pair of fertile females. In one, I will use the seeds of the purebreds in The Vale, and in the other, I will use the seeds of one of these males."
"Great."
"Do you have any suggestions?"
"Not really. The only other test I can think of is plant a fertilized egg of a non-mutant into a Falmer and see if the embryo will survive and develop," said Curtis reluctantly.
"Yes, I had thought of that. But I currently don't have a naturally fertilized egg nor the procedure to create some from the eggs and seeds I have harvested. I also have yet to create an adequate growth medium. And the bodies I have to test are already in use with current experiments."
"Oh, right, right. Yeah, nothing to do but sit back and wait and see which eventually produces or fails."
"Even failures can present useful results," she reminded him.
"Right, right. Stress tests." He sighed. "Yeah, the first best phrase in science is: 'That's interesting.'"
"Is there a second phrase?"
"Yeah. 'How can I make it do that again?'"
"Delightful. My late husband once had humor such as yours when we were courting. Don't ever go reading an Elder Scroll, hm?"
"No worries. I've already disassembled the optical character and energy pattern reader for Scrolls to use in other projects. I also like keeping my sanity and my sight."
Seven vampires, two Dawnguards, and eight Legionnaires. The vampires and Dawnguard were allowed rooms in the mushroom tower, and the Legionnaires, in the manor.
Curtis escorted Lady Volkihar up to the mushroom suite. She would be allowed to stay up there for the night — if she felt comfortable.
They floated to the mushroom cap suite. He quickly scanned the room for Joric, who wasn't supposed to be present. He didn't see the kid, but he saw Ralis standing guard in front of the Divine banner next to the Waiting Door. So presumably, Joric had been told to stay in that room while the vampire was present.
"Jarl Idgrod, I present to you Lady Valerica Volkihar. Lady Volkihar, Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone the Younger."
Lady Volkihar gave Idgrod a shallow bow. The vampire seemed unusually subdued. No doubt, she felt the weight of all the ghosts and whatnot in the suite. Curtis wasn't unaware of the cobweb tickling sensation of unseen eyes or the whispering. Freakin' carrier waves. There were voices in the breeze coming through the open doors to the veranda. Whispers and laughter from the wooden chimes outside. Snide little comments from the rasp of his palms rubbing on the pants material covering his knees as he sat and listened to the ladies exchanging polite small talk. Synesthesia could be a bitch of a condition at times.
"Gimme a break, you guys!" he thought. "I'm trying to pay attention here."
** Why? They're not saying anything important. What's really important is being carried by the cat tonight, ** tinkled the windchimes.
"Cat? What cat?"he asked.
Jarl Idgrod and Lady Volkihar stopped talking and looked at him. Damn. He must have spoken aloud.
"Uh… A cat delivering a message. I guess I'm expecting one sometime tonight?" he said, embarrassed.
** Huh. They heard me? How? They're not Hlaalu; they're not of our bloodline, ** the woodchimes clattered.
** House Mora. Perhaps the creation of this offshoot with Clan Sadri blood allows the budding of new connections to non-clan lines? ** speculated a rustling of paper.
** Oh, shut up,** grumped the dripping of a water clock. ** You Hlaalu are quick enough to clutch at any gold. What do you care if the coin came from House Redoran's purse? Oy, Slitter. You look like me when I was your age. My daughter was a smart girl, except in matters of the heart. Too bad you got your da's temper and lack of brains. But I'm glad the gods put you on the right path finally, even it it's an outlander god with feathers. **
"GODSDAMMIT! JUST SHUT UP!" The back neck muscles of Curtis's neck bunched up as he and Slitter silent-screamed at all the voices.
The breeze from the harbor circulated through the room, causing the wooden wind chimes to sing, and the soft whisper for wind was a soothing blend rustling leaves of indoor potted plants around a water clock. Only Idgrod and Valerica were talking.
"Oh, you mean Ru'urisha, Lord Revyn's chief company courier? She'd be early on her route, then. I'm sure the poor girl and her team have been running their paws off since Mistwatch. Lord Revyn has his own private courier service he created four years ago," Idgrod explained to Lady Volkihar.
"Private couriers, a necessity, of course," said Lady Volkihar, nodding. "He and his wife must have secure and trustworthy communications."
Curtis excused himself and floated down to the manor to get out of the tower. He was shaken, and so was Slitter.
"Dwemer! You're supposed to be working on long-distance talking with your Dwemer," cried Slitter. "You leave ghost talking to Serjo Revyn. We don't talk to ghosts!"
"You think I want dead people in my crib?" Curtis shot back. "I'm already hot bunking with you, and I put up with our Dwemer and Snowmer rummaging through my private drawers. You honestly think I want to give free-rent space to the dead? Sadri's got his kin guarding his back door. Maybe you can get grampa and daddy to watch our back. Your body, your bloodline."
"You fetcher! My job was always to make things dead, not talk to them. Aside from my mother, there ain't no one else I wanna talk to."
"Then you tell your mama if she wants grandkids, then she can chase off the eavesdroppers and window peepers."
Slitter's was quiet for a long while. When he came back, it was to ask, "Do you think my mama will be able to hear me?"
Curtis sighed. "You got a better chance at reaching your kin than I do mine. And, obviously, your mama's father has been watching over you."
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
Was this a Khajiit? He stared astonished at the slender wood elf lady with tiger stripes tattooed on her face and arms.
"Such a pain. This one hopes to find Yannig before that one goes too deep into the mountain passes," said the wood elf Khajiit. "So many notes to deliver, and this one does not want to waste time running along goat trails. Why could not the jarl remain Yannig for a few months more?" Idgrod laughed.
"I'm so sorry, Ru'urisha. The people who set the bomb off are to blame for this chaos in everyone's plans. As for Yannig's notes, I will give you a note to take to my kin in The Reach who knows those trails and whom you can entrust your notes to complete the delivery."
"Ah, very good," the Khajiit purred.
"Now, Ru'urisha, have you met Master Curtis before?"
"This one has not but has long wished to." The messenger smiled widely at him. He could see that she had long upper and lower incisors. Her eyes were vertical slits. "So many good foods now come out of Winterhold that this one no longer finds it a hardship to make deliveries there. And the many little travel trinkets for camping, most appreciated."
"Hey, no reason road warriors can't have proper tools and kits," said Curtis, smiling. "I see you got the latest backpack design with the slash-resistance features."
"Worth every septim," she said. "The lord provides all his couriers with these and lavish selection of clever tools and weapons." Curtis nodded, noting the pepper spray, the expandable steel baton, a multi-tool, and at least six hidden knife buckles.
"Yeah, Lord Revyn's a generous guy."
She smiled widely at him. "You are curious about this one, yes? You have not seen this kind of Khajiit before."
"Guilty. I apologize if I was staring too much. I've read that the moons influence formation, but knowing ain't the same as seeing. Didn't think I'd ever see your kind outside of Elsewyr."
She nodded. "Man's lands are especially challenging. This one would find it easier if one claimed to be Bosmer, covered her pride, and spoke unnaturally."
"Hey, no false fronts. You gotta do you."
She nodded and pulled out a large packet of letters to give him. "As usual, you have many, many who desire your attention. Read the ones tied with red yarn; those are from the gods. And if this one may trouble you for protection, I have notes to deliver to the vampire lady."
"Those have red yarn also."
"Yes. Red yarn requires this one deliver directly. This one is grateful that Yannig's notes were not red-tied."
Curtis opened one of his ghost notes and was startled to see it entitled "Stonehenge." It suggested that if micro-technology wasn't possible right now, then go old school, like primitive, back-to-the-stone age school. He had visions of setting up rune-carved menhirs with molten gold poured into the carvings to enhance the power flow. Drawing circles and lines and letters over natural ley-lines with magnetic ink.
Doable, but such a pain. He was tempted to just stand there and read all the notes, but he knew Ru'urisha had a schedule to keep, so he escorted her to Lady Volkihar's room on the third level. Lady Volkihar had found the owner's suite too uncomfortable with its active altars and noisy spirits. He sympathized. He and Slitter were still freaking out at all the whispering up there. Lady Volkihar got excited about the notes Ru'urisha delivered. She showed them to Curtis, saying these were advanced technical genetic explanations she could understand. Other notes provided names of people who had information that could further her research. Curtis wondered if it was Jhunal delivering information this way since it was unlikely she'd be invited to visit Apocrypha.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
He brought the vampires to the cave and introduced Lady Volkihar to Mage Falion. The conversation was polite, but neither had any interest in furthering an exchange of knowledge. Basically, he knew as much as he could without becoming a vampire. And she assessed that he had neither the knowledge or interest to help her quest for immortality outside the vampire condition.
Explaining the intent of Lady Volkihar to the Snowmer was easier when Jarl Idgrod was present because they trusted her. She'd taken an interest in the Snowmer and had fussed over them like they were long-lost beloved children. Not in a gooey maternal manner, more like a stern matron. The Snowmer slaves responded better to that authoritative manner seeing it correctly as protective of them. She structured their time, brought books and instructors. They were farmers, so she brought crop samples and to learn to cook with the foods that grew in this part of the world and the alchemy inherent in these common crops, plants, and herbs.
She told them the stories about the Falmer fate in Skyrim and Curtis's determination to revive their race along with his own Dwemer. He had Dwemer and Snowmer working on the project, but they needed domestic and farming support. In another way to think of it, this was frontier work. New land, new opportunities under a lord who believed more in meritocracy than feudal rights. They now had the chance to own their own futures.
And farmers understood breeding. As long as Jarl Idgrod was there to ensure their safety, they submitted to Lady Volkihar's testings and questions.
Impregnation by a feral Falmer was not to be considered at this time.
He sighed and patted the hand snaked around his left arm. The enchanted chests with all the samples were loaded onto the covered wagon guarded by two vampires, six thralls, and a pair of Telvanni escort guards. "Thanks, really, for coming all this way here so fast on such short notice," he said, assisting her up into the back of the wagon. "You're the best."
"So you're bringing them directly to The Vale?"
"Yeah. I need 'em to take over the stuff like building, gardening, and livestock care from the Altmer priests 'cuz they need to get on the clerical work. The buildup of notes and dictations to be taken and transcribed and then organizing and compiling data is getting ridiculous. I need all fifty priests doing clerical just to catch up."
"Hm, yes. I have been waiting for quite a while to get answers to the questions I sent over," said Lady Volkihar. "All I've been getting are unending apologies and requests for patience. If it's a matter of money to fetch your serfs from Hammerfell, I have chests of gold you can have."
"That's another saying I know: 'fast, cheap, or quality — pick any two.'"
She laughed again. "I'll have the gold sent to Tel Windstad as soon as I get home."
"That would be great. Thanks a bunch, my lady." He kissed her hand, which was as cold as flesh could be and still be flexible, and handed her up into the wagon, then stepped back and waived as they drove off, watching them until they were finally lost in the trees.
"Interesting lady. The way you and she get along so well is intimidating," said Falion.
"She's passionate about her work. Her methods may seem cold-blooded, but she's exactly what I need. I just make sure she knows how much I appreciate her brilliance and her efforts."
"As I said. Intimidating. You're very casual around vampires."
"Not really. I'm plenty careful around them. But the lady and I have mutual interests. I work hard to align myself to her need for mental stimulation so that it's stronger than her base need for food. But that's only after determining that she's not an emotional eater, you know, the kind that automatically turns to drugs, drink, or food when they're frustrated or sad or angry, like that."
"What if she was an emotional eater? Would you still work with her?"
"Yeah, 'cuz I really don't have a choice. There's no one else in this world that has her knowledge and skills. I'd just have to take a lot more pain-in-the-ass precautions. Not the first time I've had to work in a hazmat situation."
"A what situation? Has—"
"Hazmat. Hazardous material. A danger zone. Working in an area and with stuff that can seriously sicken, injure, or kill you if it touches you or you breathe it in. Requires armoring up and other preparation to entering such an area, and just as long — or longer — cleaning up after exiting the area to prevent contamination."
"I see. Interesting. Well, I am glad you were here to oversee the lady's visit."
"You've never spoken with her?" asked Curtis. "Not even with Lady Serana?"
"I have had conversations in the past with Lady Serana. She has asked about returning to mortality but has postponed it to take on work that requires the unique strengths and skills of a vampire lord."
Oh, yes, her part-time masquerade as the Archimage of Winterhold College, especially with the Lady Dragonborn still going through postpartum depression and Dominion's and other hostiles' spying activities at an all-time high. A "Daughter of Coldharbour" is hard to kill, and she has considerable power at her disposal. A vampire's ability to take control of the spies, brainwash 'em, and turn 'em into "assets" was too useful to the College. Scary times at the College.
"Yeah. She's a great lady. Hope she can find her own happiness in the future."
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
Lady Volkihar really wanted the backlog at the Vale cleared up. Curtis was happy to write to Lord Revyn, saying the immediate money problems were just paid off by an angel.
Related story(s): #29 Partial Recall