Chapter 5: Pieces of the Past

Yazir's whole body burned with a dark rage. Ever since he'd overheard those guards in Winterhold discussing the new museum dedicated to the Mythic Dawn Cult, getting to the town of Dawnstar was the only thing on the Redguard's mind. "Is finding this museum really more urgent than our quest?" Serana asked from behind him. He glanced over at his vampire companion, and the piebald horse she rode. When the two had first departed Fort Dawnguard, she had used her powers of necromancy to summon an undead horse. He had very quickly convinced her to purchase a live one so that they could travel less conspicuously.

"Even more so," Yazir answered back gruffly. "You need to understand Serana. When I told you before of the Oblivion Crisis, the reason behind my order's very existence, that Crisis was caused by the Mythic Dawn Cult."

"Oh my–what do you intend to do when we find them?"

"I need to know what artifacts they have in this museum, how many of the order remain, and if they still serve their Daedric lord."

"And if they have any artifacts, or still serve Mehrunes Dagon?"

Yazir did not answer. Instead, he spurred his horse faster through the snow towards Dawnstar.

*

"I've been meaning to ask, but how do you brave the cold, in such thin robes? I mean, I'm a vampire so the cold does not affect me, but you are only human. How have you not become frostbitten?"

Yazir closed his eyes, summoning his patience as a mage would summon their familiar. The vampire had been pestering him with questions ever since they had taken their leave of Fort Dawnguard. He had initially forbade such friendly interactions, but after a few roadside skirmishes side-by-side, he had relented. That had proved a mistake for Serana's questions and suggestions seemed never-ending, especially after they had left the College of Winterhold seeking a moth priest at Dragon Bridge.

"The Light of Stendarr flows through me, keeping me warm." The Vigilant answered. "That is also why I wear no armor. My faith in Stendarr is all the protection I need. Enough questions now, the town is before us." The pair stopped their horses next to a stone lightower that overlooked the town of Dawnstar. Dawnstar was a port city, and the wind was unforgiving. Snowflakes swirled all around them, limiting their vision. "Keep your hood on, and speak to no one," Yazir instructed Serana. "We must move quickly, and act accordingly."

Fortune smiled on them for they had only just entered the town when Yazir saw a man in crimson robes arguing with a woman outside of a home. The banners of the Mythic Dawn flew from various parts of the home. They had found the museum. The man in the robes broke off from his argument with the other woman to address Yazir. "Ahhh welcome. My name is Silus Vesuius, and you are one of my first visitors. Welcome to the Museum of the Mythic Dawn!" Silus spread his arms in a gesture that indicated he believed he was showing something impressive. "Er–you're not one of those Vigilants are you?

Yazir bit back his anger, and forced a smile. "No friend, I am a student at the College of Winterhold and heard of your new museum. My companion and I had a few days to ourselves, and thought, why not see its majesty for ourselves?"

Silus glanced at Serana and smiled. "Ahh, I see your friend is a follower of Molag Bal herself–do not worry my lady, you are among friends here." Silus assured her after the vampire had startled at being recognized as a pure-blooded vampire. The cultist turned back to Yazir, "Well at least now I know that you tell the truth. I thought by your robes that you might be a Vigilant, but never would a Vigilant travel in the company of such a stark follower of the Lord of Domination–please follow me inside."

Silus turned and walked inside the museum. Yazir turned to look at Serana with narrowed eyes. To his satisfaction, she had remained silent throughout the entire encounter, but he saw her jaw tighten under her hood. He would have questions for her later. He tilted his head in the direction of the museum, and the two stepped out of the cold air and into the warmth of the Mythic Dawn Museum.

*

"So you're the last of this–noble order?"

Silus nodded. "Yes. My entire family was a part of the order. In fact, one of my ancestors was one of the chosen agents sent to assassinate Uriel Septim VII!"

Yazir whistled appreciatively, "The very action that triggered the Oblivion Crisis?"

"The very same!" Silus declared proudly.

"And–just to be clear–you're offering me a substantial reward for collecting the fragments of Mehrunes Razor, which are currently guarded and kept safe by the descendants of those sworn to keep them apart forever?"

Silus nodded again. "Yes, I am the only one who knows their locations, and the only one worthy to bring them together again."

Yazir smiled again–genuinely this time. "Well I don't think I have any more questions, Silus, and it seems I have a job to do." Silus beamed at the Redguard, "Excellent! So glad to hear it! What about your friend? Does she have any questions? She has been notably silent during this visit." Yazir smiled coldly at the cultist and took a small step back. "Oh no, she's not here to ask questions, just to observe."

The smile on Silus' face gave way to a more confused expression. "To observe–? I'm sorry what–?" Yazir held up a hand to silence Silus. "You've been a fantastic host Silus, and I thank you for answering my questions, but the time has come for us to conclude our business." Yazir drew his sword, and pointed it right at the cultist's chest. "In the name of Stendarr, I sentence you to death for Daedric worship, and attempting to obtain a dangerous Daedric artifact. Do you have any last words?"

The cultist's eyes grew wide with fear. He had backed up as far as Yazir as he could get, but now he was simply between the wall of his home and the point of Yazir's sword. "No, please you can't–I swear I–" whatever the imperial was trying to say ended in a gasp, and a spout of dark red blood as Yazir drove his sword into the man's heart. The Vigilant twisted the blade to ensure maximum damage, before pulling it from the cultist's body. Silus fell to the floor in a heap. Blood poured from his wound, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. Finally, the man was still.

Yazir wiped the blade of his sword on the dead man's robes, and looked at Serana. "None escape the Vigil." He ordered her to return to the horses, saying that he would meet her there in a few moments. By the time he caught up to his vampire companion, and mounted his horse, the entire museum was already aflame.