Carcette roamed the halls of Castle Volkihar, planning her next move. She's made sure her people and the Elder Scroll were both out of Harkon's reach and has bought enough time for the Dawnguard to simmer and bake.
She hoped they would be ready soon. That they could defeat the Vampires. That they could finally avenge her Vigil. She killed the main assailants, but she could not feel peace until Harkon and the other conspirers bit the dust. She fantasized nightly of the various ways these bloodsucking fiends could meet their ends. By blade, by mace, by sun, by violently flattened underneath collapsing ceilings... a mere taste; a morsel of the horror they subjected her underlings to.
She hoped that everything they've been through hasn't been for nothing. If Cura's harm did little more than hinder the Dawnguard, Carcette would live with that knowledge weighing her shoulders down forever.
Cura...
She couldn't get her out of her mind. The one good thing to come out of her failed Vigil; dropped on her doorstep by the will of the Gods.
The thought of what she had done to her caused an aching throb in her still heart.
Memories of a time long passed returned to Carcette: a time when Cura was a young child and had shed another of her baby teeth. Carcette, as per Breton tradition, kept a collection of Cura's fallen teeth, with the intent of forming them into a necklace, or perhaps keeping them in a jar, to languish in a box somewhere in the Hall. The idea struck her, and she opted to hand the teeth to Brother Adalvald, who she instructed to ground them up into Bonemeal, which he then used to make an Amulet of Stendarr, and affectionately carved Cura's name into it.
She remembered the big, gaping smile on little Cura's face when she first got to hold the Amulet.
The Amulet she's worn ever since.
Her excitement was immeasurable, and her innocence adorable. The memories gave the former Keeper a sad sense of nostalgia. When was the last time she saw Cura smile, come to think of it? It had been so long ago.
Ever since the Dragons returned, it seemed, from Carcette's point of view, that Cura's life spiraled into chaos. The worst part was that she knew.
She knew, and there was nothing she could have done to prepare her for it, or to prevent it from happening.
Just like with the Vampire attack. She had ample time to prepare for it, but her arrogance had her believe the Hall was untouchable, and that their refurbishing the inside, outside, and adding barracks and palisades in the front and having newer equipment would be all that they needed to win the day, but unfortunately, she was wrong. She misjudged it all. In spite of countless warnings, she failed to heed them.
Never again. She would no longer sit back and let fate ferry her down the river; she would use her paddles to ride the tide on her own terms.
She hoped that Cura could forgive her folly, sincerely. Perhaps she would realize that by not being active all this time, she's taken the Vampires' eyes off the Dawnguard. Harkon had calmed down a little in relation to the Bloodstone Chalice, for now he knew that Cura was either dead, or maimable. If Carcette could even hospitalize her, Harkon had nothing to fear, as he would see it.
Deep down, Carcette knew that these vampires could not be allowed to succeed in their endeavours,with or without Cura's involvement, for the sake of all that was good and holy in this world.
Orthjolf glared at her when they passed one another in the hallway. He noticed some blood on her chin, which she smeared on herself from the Thralls in the prison to give the illusion that she was drinking Human blood.
It was degrading, and it took everything she was not to give in and lick that blood right off her chin.
The Vigil would cleanse all those who would offend Stendarr's children.
Carcette had to mentally prepare herself for the knowledge that she herself could potentially be slain by her former Order once the new Keeper takes her place.
It was all so surreal.
Even if she found a cure and became Human again, she would no longer be Keeper. She would have to adhere to this other person. In a way, she was not ready to cast herself down the ladder like this, but at the same time it was oddly liberating.
She had been Keeper of the Vigil for so long that she forgot what it felt like to have less responsibility on her shoulders.
What was her purpose now?
Would she be allowed entry back into the Vigil itself?
Was the Vigil even correct in its operations anymore? Being a Vampire has given her a new perspective on the condition.
Some vampires don't want to live as they do. Some wholeheartedly reject it, as she does.
Though her power continued to grow, so did her fatigue and thirst for blood. She would die before drinking Human blood!
"Two months in and you've not turned anyone?" Vingalmo approached Carcette from behind. "Hmph. I turned Garan Marethi on my first."
"I don't need a lackey." Carcette rolled her eye and turned to face him. "I've already killed my own."
Vingalmo shook his head slowly, disapproving of her blatant lie. "You may fool the others, but I see right through you, Breton. Your human nature pollutes you."
Carcette snubbed him. "Because clearly Elvenkind is a rose itself." She scoffed at the High Elf. "Look, I don't know what you want with me, but you need to stop hounding me like this."
"Salonia. She was to return with the Chalice so that I alone could gain Harkon's favour. Then you return alive, and with a dysfunctional chalice. Don't think I don't realize what you're doing."
"Surviving in a cutthroat court." Carcette assured him. "I'm not some third rival vying for the Throne. I merely serve our Lord. That's all. Salonia and Stalf, the fools, defiled the Redwater Spring with their filthy blood."
"Blood that you spilled." Vingalmo insisted. "If you truly served our Lord, you would have relished in the opportunity to become a sacrifice to increase his power!"
"Then isn't it a shame that you missed the opportunity, as well." Carcette called him out.
After a moment's pause, Vingalmo smiled. "You're good. You're very good." He could not refute her without incriminating himself.
"But not good enough." He slunk away into the shadows like an unwanted stalker.
Carcette shook her head and walked out to the Dining Hall, and, by some miracle of the Gods, found a bottle of Honningbrew Mead.
It had been a time of rest and recuperation under Erandur's care for Cura, with her slowly making improvements in her range of motion with each passing day, and within the six and a half weeks she rested, the Dawnguard had managed to get quite a lot done in the way of weapon improvement. Inigo paired with Sorine Jurard and scavenged the land, avoiding traps and onslaughts of enemies, both big and small, and procured her many new, intuitive schematics for her crossbow plans. Serana remained hidden throughout the Fort, knowing that her father's minions would not find her here. And with the Vigilants there, the veterans like Tolan and Adalvald could train the new recruits as well, taking strain off Isran and the others in the meantime.
Cura and Serana fraternized quite a lot, and Cura began to grow in appreciation for the vampiress. There was much more to her than meets the eye, considering initial pretenses.
The young Breton sat up in her bed, still hesitant to fully stand. Thankfully, her arm was well enough to have the cast taken off, but she was still hesitant to move it to the left or to the right. For now, up and down suited her quite nicely. Her left leg was able to be moved again, with tingling sensation when she twisted her torso. She'd been training to walk again, and she was hesitant, but knew she must eventually, sooner or later. Last attempt saw her wobble right onto Erandur, but she could potentially try it again. She must.
For now, she had a question. "Serana, I'm curious... were you always a vampire?" She tilted her head.
"That's... a long story." Serana hesitated.
"I wouldn't mind hearing it." Cura said. She's learned quite a bit about the First era from Serana, and what life was like back then, but she never asked her why she became a vampire. It didn't seem to fit her character very much, from what she's seen thus far.
"I guess... we kind of have to go way back. To the very beginning. Do you know where vampirism came from?" Serana asked Cura, almost daring her to summon Brother Adalvald.
"Molag Bal." Cura said flatly. "Who else?"
"Exactly!" Serana exclaimed. "The first vampire came from Molag Bal. She... was not a willing subject. But she was still the first. Molag Bal is a powerful daedric lord, and his will is made reality. For those willing to subjugate themselves, he will still bestow the gift, but they must be powerful in their own right before earning his trust."
"Hmph." Cura sneered. "I have quite a... history with that fiend." She shivered as she recalled the House of Horrors and Vigilant Tyrannus in Markarth. The Daedric prince was truly evil. Predictable, but evil nonetheless. Cura hated him with all her heart for what he forced her to do.
"Maybe you'll tell me about it sometime." Serama insisted.
"I don't know..." Cura crossed her arms, and then realized that her right arm only tingled, much like her left leg. "I don't think I want to talk about that..."
"Well, I'm about to confess my darkness to you." Serana scoffed and sulked. "Be fair, now."
Cura sighed. "All right, you're right. It's only fair. Continue, please. Tell me how it happened."
"The ceremony was... degrading. Let's not revisit that." Serana shivered as terrible memories involving the Daedra himself flooded her memories as twisted pleasure warped her very soul on that night. "But we all took part in it. Not really wholesome family activity, but I guess it's something you do when you give yourselves to a Deadric lord."
"What on Nirn..." Cura's eyebrows furrowed. "Is this like what happened to Lamae Bal?"
"Exactly." Serana made a lewd gesture with her hands so Cura would get the gist of it.
"I'm so sorry..." Cura sympathized. "That's... that's... no. There are no words for that."
"Well, it happened, and it's been millennia since then." Serana stated. "So, let's move on with time, shall we?"
Cura leaned forward slightly, and asked her the next question, not just for herself, but for Fenrik, and for Carcette. "Do you regret becoming a vampire?"
"Nobody's ever asked me that before. I... I don't know." Serana was bewildered by the assertion and took a hot minute to catch herself. "I think... mostly I hate what it's done to my family."
"How has it affected your family?" Cura asked, nosying in on her business once more.
"Well, you've met most of us. My father's not exactly the most stable, and eventually he drove my mother crazy with him. And it all ended with me being locked underground for who knows how long. It's definitely been a bad thing, on the whole." Serana tallied up the pros and the cons, and the cons certainly were a great many, even if time did draw many to apathy.
Cura decided to take it a step further. "Do you ever think about curing yourself?"
"A cure? Why even think of it that way? I can't think of any reason I'd want to lose my gift. Especially after what I did to get it. It may have driven my family apart, but I'm still here, and I'm alive. I won't give this up." Serana immediately came onto the defensive.
Cura shied away momentarily as discomfort settled in. "I see... well, that's your prerogative. If you were to die today, you would face an eternity in Coldharbour. Could you really go through with that? Seeing Molag Bal again?"
Serana shivered again and looked away to the side. She shook it off and glared directly at Cura as ferocity returned. "This isn't that watered down child's power that you simply contract from another vampire. We're pureblood creations of original vampires. We earned this." Serana frowned darkly. "Even if I see Molag Bal again, I'm sure he'll acknowledge my power and grant me might over those he wishes to be tormented."
Cura sighed. Their first argument, and it was all due to Cura's concern. When would she learn? "But why would you want to torment people? It's... terrible."
Serana crossed her arms. "So, what's your story? How did you come to meet Molag Bal?" She scoffed in a snarky manner, still feeling defensive over Cura's insistence on a cure.
Cura stiffened up. "Do I really have to...?"
"You can give me the abridged version, like I did for you." Serana told her. "I piqued your interest, and you've piqued mine. It's only fair."
"All right, already!" Cura snapped. She jittered lightly as she tried to find a way to begin without opening too many emotional wounds. "Do you know about Molag's signature weapon?" When Serana nodded, Cura hit herself in the face. "Oh, of course you know! What am I saying?"
"The Vampire's Mace." Serana marveled. "You've come into contact with it?"
"Yes." Cura said darkly as she lowered her eyes. After some light choking, she began, twiddling her thumbs. "I was in Markarth. Another Vigilant was conducting an investigation into a House that was said to be heavily cursed and sent for help. I obliged and investigated alongside him."
Cura gripped the mattress with her fingers as it all came back to her. "We... we headed down into the bowels of the building... that led to an Altar devoted to Molag Bal. He spoke directly to us and goaded us into killing one another. I refused to do it, but... my partner... his will was not strong enough to defy him, He... he tried to kill me first, in the cage..."
Serana could see Cura beginning to tremble. "Hey, are you all right? You don't have to continue if it's too painful."
Cura shook her head. "No, no, I have to tell someone about this. I have to finish."
Crack!
Smash!
Crunch!
A demonic mace bludgeoning Tyrannus.
The visions disturbed Cura as she watched an able-bodied man be reduced to nothing in mere moments. "Molag... forced my hand. He took control of my body and made me beat my partner to death."
Serana cringed sympathetically. "That... definitely sounds like him."
A loud and painful sob escaped Cura as she was forced to relive the horror, and she looked down to the floor. "Tyrannus, I'm so sorry..." She whimpered and clenched the mattress tightly. "I'm so sorry..."
"Hey, hey..." Serana gently sat on the bed beside the mourning Breton. "Hey, it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself." She gently placed an arm around her friend's back to comfort her.
Cura shook her head and quickly wiped her eyes. "I... I know. I know. I kept telling myself that." She sniffled as her nostrils began to block themselves. "I've repeated it ad nauseum. But... I feel that I could have done more to stop him. Someway, somehow... maybe I should have prayed to Stendarr harder... I don't know. It was the worst day of my life. My best friend died that day, and I was thrown into prison, and... it all went so wrong."
Serana let a sigh escape. "I can't relate to all of it, but I know the pain of being locked away unjustly, as well as the pain of being made to do things against my will at Molag Bal's behest; even if they're different circumstances. You feel... powerless. Overwhelmed. Terrified. And once it's over..." She slowly stood up and gestured towards the floor in a pseudo-dropping an object motion. "...all you're left to do is pick up the pieces and move forward."
Cura looked up at Serana as she made her gesture and nodded. "What you went through was just awful..."
"Well, being violated by the Lord of Domination wasn't exactly a walk through the meadows." Serana stated plainly. "But the reward I could live with. Being a Vampire, having survived that ordeal, has made me stronger. I have eternal life, superior strength, speed, powers beyond imagination. What you went through left you with nothing but regrets. Molag Bal just wanted to hurt you, and left no silver lining."
Cura shook her head. "You say it made you stronger, but I think that's how you've come to cope with it." The Breton exhaled. "And again, I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Stories like ours are the reason why the Vigil of Stendarr and the Dawnguard exist. We seek to put an end to the worship of that awful beast."
Serana had no response, and no comeback to throw back her way. The Vampiress considered what Cura had said and walked to the other side of the room and sat on the bed adjacent to Cura. "So, what does Stendarr do? I can't imagine much, with him being a corpse, essentially."
"Stendarr is no corpse!" Cura quickly retorted. "He lives on in our world through his followers, providing us with his influence!"
"And yet he wasn't strong enough to prevent a Vampire attack on your little burrow." Serana called him out.
Cura grit her teeth. "Well, maybe there was a reason why he allowed it to happen! I don't understand Divine will, but we just have to pick up the pieces and move on, like you said."
Serana snorted lightly. Of course, her own words would be turned against her. "Well, if you don't mind, I have another question for you."
Cura gave her the go-ahead. "All right."
Why not? Serana really seemed to enjoy the questions of a personal nature.
"I saw Meridia's sword on your hip. Do you think that maybe that was the reason Molag Bal was so fixated on you?" Serana asked.
"Hm... Meridia is his mortal enemy." Cura recalled. "She is enemy to all Undead."
"She must not be happy by the company you're keeping, then." Serama gestured at herself. "I just hope you lean more towards Stendarr's mercy than Meridia's spite."
Cura was amused. "Am I really that scary? Me, the bedridden, red-faced, leaky-eyed, sniveling Dragonborn?"
"Oh, not at all." Serana laughed. "I've seen Mudcrabs with a more intimidating presence than you."
Cura took that as an insult. "Hey!" She protested. "If you would have seen what I did in Markarth, I'm certain you would have a different opinion."
"The violent storm you stirred up?" Serana asked, much to Cura's surprise. She explained quickly. "Yes, I heard about that. The Vampires saw you like some sort of boogeyman because of it. Now that Carcette put you down, they're probably feeling a bit too confident. They're going to start making fatal mistakes once they realize she duped them all."
"Why did that have to involve hurting me like that? Why did she not just join the Dawnguard?" Cura asked.
"If you really have to ask, maybe she hit you in the head way too hard." Serana scoffed. "Do you really think they'd throw her a 'Welcome Home' party here? Knowing what she is? No. She has nowhere to go, and a very limited deck of cards. I guess she's playing them to the best of her ability. For your benefit. For the Dawnguard's benefit."
When she put it like that, Cura felt like a fool. Maybe she was too hasty to judge Carcette. Maybe she wasn't corrupt after all. Maybe, just maybe she could forgive her for what she did to her. Maybe there could be reconciliation.
But Carcette would have to make the first move.
Cura would hold back until then, but she was willing to forgive and forget. "I understand." Was all she could bring herself to say. The two of them sat there in silence for the next half an hour.
The workshop on the first floor was lively and the smell of burning metal wafted through the air.
Gunmar turned to face Sorine as he cooled off his armour piece in the forge. "How is the work coming along?"
Sorine pondered as she removed weapon pieces from their molds. "Fairly well, I'd say. I've managed to get this far without blowing myself up, I still have all my limbs..."
Gunmar chuckled heartily. "What are you doing that's so dangerous?"
Sorine was taken aback. "Nothing. Well, not on purpose. But you never know. The strangest accidents can happen at any time. That's why I always try to be ready for anything."
Inigo was skeptical at first, but he slowly became numb to Serana's presence, and was no longer fearful of her. Now, it seemed as though the Fort Huskies, Bran and Sceolang were the bigger threats to his safety.
Being essentially a large Cat made him quite intriguing to the canines.
The blue Khajiit walked down towards the weapon workshop and handed a set of blueprints to Sorine Jurard.
"I hope you're getting along with Isran. He takes some getting used to." Sorine wondered how Inigo was daring as she accepted the papers.
"Well, apart from his threats about what he will do if I mark my territory inside the Fort, we get along quite mutually." Inigo stated. "Anyways, the Bandits held onto this with a tight fist. Must be very important, I think." He gestured towards the blueprints Sorine held in her hands as she readied to sift through them.
"You never disappoint. What've you got there? Is it really... it is! I was hoping we'd find this. It's a diagram for a Dwemer crossbow. Much more sophisticated, and powerful, than the ones we use." Sorine examined the schematics. "Clever Dwarves. With a similar technique and a little tinkering, I should be able to improve the capabilities of our crossbows." She held a finger under her lip as she wondered. "I often wonder where we'd be if the Dwemer were still around. Ah well. We'll have to manage with the scraps we find."
"So... do you know anything about the old Dawnguard?" Inigo asked. "I've been asking around, but nobody has given me a clear answer. If I am to wear this uniform, I wish to know what it means." he gestured towards the new black Dawnguard armour set he was wearing.
"I've only heard stories. Not sure if any of them are true." Sorine worked as she recounted the old myths. "Like that they were supposed to guard some vampire here, but wound up all becoming vampires themselves when they saw how powerful he was. And then preyed on the Rift until finally someone put them down." Sorine recalled the sordid tale as she began to piece together the Dwarven metal pieces she molded earlier from smeltering the Gyros. "I guess it doesn't matter now. At least Isran is trying to do something noble with the name."
Inigo nodded. "I just hope we do not repeat their errors."
Gunmar returned from his lunch break and immediately began to continue his work at the forge, creating what looked like a very broad chest armour piece.
Sorine spoke up immediately. "Why in the world did you ever try putting armor on trolls?"
Gunmar barely heard her over the hissing if the metal as it cooked in the water basin. "What?"
Sorine reiterated as she hammered away. "I mean, why would that idea even cross your mind?"
Inigo peeked over the troll pen enclosure and did his best to not be seen by the beasts. He failed, however, and one hurled a femur bone at him, prompting him to duck quickly.
"Is that the best you can do, you smelly ape?" he wiggled his thumbs in his ears and stuck his tongue out mockingly, only to be knocked down by a skull hitting him in the forehead. He lay flat on his back. "Oww... okay, I deserved that."
Gunmar continued addressing Sorine. "Oh. Well, I'm not sure. I guess it came from fighting them, thinking 'what could be worse?' And then realizing a troll with armour is even more intimidating."
Sorine smiled and continued to twist joints into place. "Well, that's certainly a line of thinking I can relate to."
Cura clenched the edge of her mattress and slowly hoisted herself up. The strength returned to her right arm, but she was still uncertain about her left leg.
"Easy does it, child." Erandur tried to usher her up safely. "Can you bend it without pain?"
"That remains to be seen..." Cura cautiously bent her left leg, anticipating the gloriously painful shot of a knife riding its length, but there was none. It was a little tingly instead. "Er... a couple of pins and needles."
"Good, that means your body's almost ready to go." Erandur smiled. "A vast improvement from a couple weeks ago, wouldn't you say?"
Cura nodded and smiled with relief. "Now I can properly help out in the Fort."
"Well, most positions are covered, but I did hear a few of the recruits asking about when you'd be ready to teach them how to fight." Erandur stated. "Maybe your surviving that vampire attack inspired them."
Cura, inspiring people? A feeling of great satisfaction sprouted within the Breton. That was by far the nicest thing she'd heard in a long time.
She took a few steps and her body flowed almost naturally once more. But only almost. She still felt tingling in her limbs. Still, it could be worse.
"Well, I'm going to do some practice swings." Cura went to the Armory and retrieved her Elven mace and Spellbreaker.
Sorine and Gunmar noticed her from the workshop ten feet away.
"Do you have a moment?" Sorine called out to Cura. "Gunmar and I have been talking and, well, we're slightly worried. We both realized that if Isran's even allowed us in here, he must be really concerned. And if he's that concerned, the situation must be pretty bad. Make sense?"
"Oh, I know." Cura stated dryly, still leaning against the wall for safe measure. She was recovered, but still felt tenderness in her left leg and right arm, as she gripped her weapons. She fastened Dawnbreaker back on her hip.
Then she noticed that the kinks were taken out of her mace, repaired nicely. "Ooh, someone reforged my mace?"
Sorine confessed. "Yes. That was me. I wanted to discover the similarities between the Elven weapon styles, to cross-reference the design with the Dwarven weapon design. Though the Dwemer were Elves, there are very few similarities." She then returned to the topic of discussion. "Anyways, these vampires are a new threat, and a truly deadly one. Gunmar and I agree that we're going to need Florentius to help. Gunmar and I have a lot of work to do here, so we were hoping that maybe you could track him down."
"Florentius? Florentius Baenius? The Imperial Priest?" Cura wanted to make sure.
"Oh, you know him?" Sorine was surprised.
"Yes, he's a priest of Arkay. Well, he was. It's... it's complicated. He's a little eccentric, but we can trust him and we could definitely use his skills."
"Do you know where he is?" Cura asked.
"Well, that's the thing. We don't know where he is. Haven't seen him in years. I think he had regular contact with the Vigilants, and I know Isran kept track of them... So maybe you could ask Isran if he knows anything? Just keep in mind that he... well, he might not like the idea."
"Or, I could ask Vigilant Tolan and Brother Adalvald." Cura offered an alternative.
Inigo approached from behind and startled Cura by tugging on her robe and waving to her.
"Already did." Sorine explained. "They lost contact with him a while ago."
"Then why would Isran know?" Cura asked.
"Worth a shot?" Sorine shrugged as she tightened the handle on her new Dwarven Crossbow, make 2.0 with exploding Dwemer bullets. "Here, sweetie, for you." She handed it to Inigo, who giggled mischievously. "For being such a big help."
"Oh, ho-ho-ho, yessss..." Inigo excitedly ogled the new weapon under the light.
Cura approached Isran, who was standing in the central lobby, lost in thought.
"Isran, I have something to ask you." Cura began, snapping him back into reality.
"You and me both. Are you sure you're well enough to get back out there?" Isran stated.
"Ready as I'll ever be." Cura nodded. "Do you know where Florentius Baenius is?"
"Who said something, Sorine or Gunmar? I thought they'd have learned their lesson by now. I don't trust that man, and I don't want him here." Isran shut it down immediately without hesitation.
"Well, Sorine thinks his help is needed, Isran." Cura said. "And I know him. We get along quite well."
Isran gave it some thought. "I suppose she's right. I shouldn't let my personal feelings get in the way. Last I'd heard of him, he was aiding the Priest in Falkreath. Fool sent me a note a few weeks back. Asking about you and the Vigil."
"And you didn't tell me?" Cura felt a bit disgruntled by the fact.
"You were lying in an infirmary bed." Isran pointed out the obvious. "Sorry for respecting your recovery time."
"Thank you for that." Cura expressed appreciation for the gesture. "I'll go see him."
"I'll go with you." Serana called out from behind the doorway as she emerged to face Cura and Isran.
Cura waved to her and Isran shook his head.
"No. Bad idea." Isran informed her. "Florentius would attack you on sight."
"Not with me there." Cura reassured her. "If he tries, I'll talk him down."
"You can try, but that man is out of his mind. Doesn't listen to reason. Never has." Isran threw up his hands and walked away.
Cura looked at Serana caringly and placed a hand on the Vampiress' shoulder. "You don't have to worry. I won't let it come to that. Just wear your hood and try not to look conspicuous."
Serana scoffed. "Right, because wearing a hood during the day in a crowded city isn't conspicuous at all."
"It's really not," Cura giggled lightheartedly. "I do it all the time!" She pulled her hood up over her head before heading out.
After all, it is the Vigilant look.
Harkon's court lay still, enjoying their morbid feast with the Lord Vampire himself at the head of it, when suddenly they were alerted by a spontaneous racket.
"I have him!" Malkus, the Orc vampire pushed open the front door of the castle with an elderly man in gray robes kicking and flailing in his grasp. Fura Bloodmouth and Hestla, two of the other vampiresses in the court quickly closed the door as he entered and quartered him so that the prisoner had no chance of escape.
Carcette sat at one of the tables, near Ronthil, and seemed to be enjoying that glorious bottle of Honningbrew Mead she'd found a couple of hours ago.
"Is that..." Ronthil pointed to the elderly man, who Malkus callously dropped to the floor.
"A Moth Priest." Malkus snorted as he approached Lord Harkon. "Came over Dragon Bridge, from Cyrodiil."
"Did you have any difficulties procuring him?" Harkon asked.
"A couple of foolish City Guards, but nothing I couldn't handle." Malkus boasted as he took a bow and walked to the other side of the room. "Well, there was a couple of these other fools in heavy armour that I fled from... the... "Dawnguard " I think they call themselves."
Carcette hid her grin. The Dawnguard were growing in Providence, even as the Vigil diminished.
"They killed a couple of our underlings, but we escaped." Fura stated in embarrassment. "Their crossbows were no joke."
Carcette stood up from the table and approached Harkon. "My Lord, we must first examine him for Holy Relics. Perhaps an Amulet he could be wearing beneath the robe." She quickly approached the Moth Priest and leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "Do as I say, it's for your own good. I promise."
The Imperial scholar was concerned, but he had little to no option at this point. He remained still as Carcette began to frisk him and placed her hand down his robe collar to locate an Amulet of sorts, only for her to confirm that he was safe to approach.
Harkon snapped his fingers and Malkus approached, and grabbed the Priest by the jaw, and pulled his face up to meet his own. "The more you fight me, the more you will suffer, mortal."
The Priest protested and squirmed in his grasp. "I will resist you, monster. I must!"
Four minutes passed with great resistance and Malkus was becoming annoyed. "How much longer can you keep this up, Moth Priest? Your mind was strong, but you're exhausted from the struggle."
The Priest could feel his grip on reality beginning to loosen and distort. "Must... resist..."
Malkus smirked smugly. "Yes, I can feel your defenses crumbling. You want it to end. You want to give in to me. Now, acknowledge me as your master!"
"NEVER!" The Moth Priest shouted in protest, closing his mind to the beast.
Harkon was growing impatient, and Carcette could see it. If the Vampire Lord took things into his own hands, it would be over. This was her chance. She could bring this Moth Priest to the Dawnguard. Serana was there. She had the Elder Scroll. If there was a time to turn her hand, this was it.
"My Lord." Carcette caught his attention, shaking Harkon's right arm. "Perhaps I could break his defenses. I understand better than anyone here how the mind of a Religious Devotee works."
Harkon considered it. She was a Warpriestess of Stendarr, after all. There was plausibility to what she was saying.
"Your kind are a blight upon Tamriel, monster!" The Priest cried out in protest.
Carcette looked on to Harkon for an answer, but the Vampire Lord seemed distracted and looked around. "Where is Serana with the Elder Scroll?"
He quickly dashed around the Dining hall at incredible speed, looking about for his daughter, searching fruitlessly before heading back to the Dining room and tossing one of the tables into the air, causing it to crash against the wall, flying into a rage. "WHERE IS SHE?!" the powerful Vampire bellowed.
Orthjolf, scared out of his wits, quickly jabbed a finger at Carcette. "She was with her! Blame her!"
Harkon followed his finger to Carcette, who flinched back slightly. "Me? I haven't seen her in weeks! You lie!"
Vingalmo readied his claws. "She's a saboteur, my lord!"
"Oh, that's rich, coming from you!" Carcette jabbed at Vingalmo.
The Vampiric Altmer snarled with hatred. "Please, allow me to end her miserable life!"
"She defiled the Bloodstone Chalice!" Orthjolf stated. "Now she intends to help this Priest!"
Harkon studied Carcette, who was playing the victim. "What? My Lord, these fools are out of their minds! What would I have to gain by helping this Priest? He sees me as a blight to be removed. It would be suicide."
"It certainly would." Harkon narrowed his eyes threateningly, deliberately reminding her of her place in the court.
"These Manmeri can't be trusted." Vingalmo stated. "They live to undermine each other every day! It's as natural to them as eating or sleeping. Look no further than Daggerfall in the Second Era."
"Yeah, because the Altmer have been so trustworthy!" Orthjolf interjected. "Maybe it was you! You let Serana escape, and now you want to pin it on her!"
"How dare you accuse me, Nord!" Vingalmo shouted. "I'll bet you had the Bloodstone Chalice defiled! It was your lackey who messed it all up."
"No, that was yours, clearly." Orthjolf shook his head.
"Salonia followed my orders to the letter!" Vingalmo clenched his fist. "Your incompetence-"
Carcette was trying to track the direction of blame, and so far it was working out better than she'd hoped! She actually managed to cause disruption in the Court.
"I think it was the two of you." Harkon snarled. "You believe me blind and deaf, Orthjolf, and you, Vingalmo think me the fool tyrant, attending one banquet to the next, blissfully unaware of my surroundings." He levitated above the ground. "Worthless, petty, weak excuses for Vampire Lords that you are!" Each word emerged a steaming dagger as he slowly approached the pair, who stood in place, terrified.
"M-my Lord-" Vingalmo squeaked as Harkon grabbed him by the throat.
"I shall not be mocked!" Harkon growled as he snapped his neck with a violent thrust, causing Fura, Hestla, Garan, Ronthil, Feran, Modhna, Malkus, and Rargal to gasp in horror.
Harkon was not very rational. He was threatening, sure, but he was never truly intelligent by any means.
To think that shrouding the sun could result in anything other than death of all things, Vampires included.
Carcette looked around as all eyes were fixed on the spectacle, and decided that if there ever was a time, this was it. She turned to the Moth Priest and held a finger up to her mouth, gesturing silence.
She clasped her hands together and called upon Stendarr's Aura, which illuminated the Dining hall, immolating the smaller vampires like Fura, Hestla, Malkus, Ronthil, Modhna and Rargal. The fiends screamed and flailed about as they fled to the adjacent rooms for protection. The Death Hounds were utterly destroyed on contact with the Holy Light.
Harkon was nearly blinded by the light, and so covered his eyes.
Carcette grabbed the Moth Priest, and with great speed, launched them both through the ceiling in flight. Fortunately, the rising sun shed its light, which began to pour in from the hole, preventing the singed Orthjolf from giving chase.
"That miserable bitch!" Orthjolf roared angrily.
Carcette held the Priest tightly as she soared over the Sea of Ghosts, which seemed to unfold beneath her as clouds and mist rolled past.
She could feel her energy draining as the light of the sun began to encroach upon her. As she reached Skyrim's shorelines, she collapsed to the floor, and dropped the Moth Priest.
After he tucked and rolled the Priest grinded to a halt. He slowly began to pull himself up out of the dirt, clenching onto tundra grass. He was scraped and covered with mud, but nothing was broken, thankfully.
He turned over to the vampiress who saved him and saw her slowly beginning to stand again. "You... you called upon merciful Stendarr! I heard you! Just who are you?" It was very uncharacteristic for a Vampire, indeed, to call upon one of the Divines. Especially for a creature of the Daedric Lord of Domination and Rape to call upon the God of Mercy and Justice.
"I am... was... the Keeper of the Vigil of Stendarr." Carcette had difficulty getting used to the fact. "Carcette."
"I am Dexion Evicus." the Imperial Priest scratched his white beard as he gave a proper introduction.
"We have to reach Fort Dawnguard." Carcette stated. "I'm exhausted, but I can get us to Solitude for now."
"You're different from the others there..." Dexion observed. "How can that be?"
"By Stendarr's grace." Carcette stated. "Let's get moving." She gestured for him to follow her.
With her cover blown, she knew that she would be hunted once the chill of night covers the land. With nowhere to run and nowhere to truly hide, Carcette had to bank on the Dawnguard and their preparedness. As well, Dexion had to meet Serana and read her Scroll to them.
An elk ran by, and Carcette wasted no time. She lunged for the animal and buried her fangs in its neck, shocking the unprepared Dexion. After some moments, Carcette finished drinking and wiped the blood off her lips with her right gauntlet. She could feel some energy return to her. A relief washed over her until she saw the distressed look on Dexion's face.
"My word..." He muttered in horror at the display of savagery.
"I... would rather die than drink Human blood." Carcette said aloud. "If I must drink every beast in these lands dry, I will. But the thirst... it's... it's impossible." Sooner or later, her will would collapse. She knew it, and Dexion could see it.
"Perhaps we'd best avoid cities if we could." Dexion suggested. "You will have less temptation that way."
Perhaps this was how Cura felt during her Lycanthropy episode.
"I agree." Carcette nodded. "Let's take the mountain pass, and when I gather enough strength, we can try to Fast Travel."
"A useful talent to have." Dexion mused as the pair began their trek into the frozen mountains.
Cura and Serana arrived by Fast Travel to the gloom-filled city of Falkreath. The last time Cura was here, it was for Sinding, she recalled, though again, parts of her memory seemed to be missing. Why was she there to slay Sinding, again?
Ah, because of the little girl.
That was a terrible tragedy.
Serana walked towards the Tavern. "So, the world really got worse over the centuries... I remember when this was a large, bustling city... is Oakwood still around? Or even Amber Guard, Granitehall, Nimalten City, Amol, Karthwasten Hall, Snowhawk, Windhelm, Stonehills, Sungard, Winterhold, Reich Corigate, Lainalten, Pargran Village, Laintar Dale, Dunpar Wall, Dragon Wood, Greymoor, Helgen, Whiterun, or North Keep?"
"No, unfortunately." Cura shook her head. "Many of those cities collapsed with time, and Oakwood, and Granitehall were destroyed in the War. Much of Whiterun was destroyed, and the city was greatly reduced during History, as well. I think Nimalten City and Lainalten collapsed during the Oblivion Crisis. I'll have to check with Brother Adalvald for that."
"Which ones remain?" Serana asked.
"Well, Falkreath for starters." Cura gestured around them.
"Does it still have a huge cemetery?" Serana asked.
"Well, I wouldn't say it's that huge, but it is large." Cura shrugged.
"Good enough. That's Falkreath." Serana shrugged in tandem. "What else?"
"Whiterun. I'm a Thane there, I'll have you know." Cura boasted. "As well as in Windhelm. There's also Dawnstar, my hometown essentially. Then Markarth-that awful, terrible, no-good, really harsh place. Then Riften, the land of Thieves, Winterhold, which was destroyed by a cataclysm and never recovered. They blame the Mages for it. Then there's Solitude, the Capital of the Province, Helgen, which was decimated by a Black Dragon that I'm destined to fight to the death eventually, Riverwood, Rorikstead, Shor's Stone, Dragon Bridge, Karthwasten still exists, I believe... Morthal, and...Ivarstead, at the foot of the mountain." Cura was beginning to wonder if she left any out. "Aaaaand I think that's it. Yes. That's all we have."
"That's depressing." Serana shook her head sadly. "It seems like Skyrim is only picking up the pieces."
"That's one way to put it." Cura considered it. The war devastated the land, and left sorrow in its wake. Farmlands were destroyed, and many suffered for it. Cities were reduced to mere townships, and now the Dragons and Vampires were on the scene. It's almost as if they truly were on the precipice of the end of the world.
Not if Cura could help it. She would never allow it. She saw a couple of children playing in the cobblestone street and thought of the future. They would inherit this world. She would not allow them to perish. They deserve a peaceful Skyrim to shape and define.
That cemetery was big enough. It didn't need all the new occupants.
The pair headed through the cemetery and walked among the graves, where sure enough, they saw the one whom they searched for. Florentius Baenius was meditating underneath the rotted tree at the edge of the burial site. Perhaps the rumours were true of Arkay's radiant energy in this city.
"Florentius!" Cura called out to him, gaining his attention.
The dark Imperial man's eyes lit up when he saw her approach. "Ah, Cura! Arkay told me you were coming, so I stayed here." Florentius took her hands gently as he stood up in greeting.
"He... did?" Cura asked, surprised. Though she really shouldn't be. If the Daedra could commune with her, then perhaps the Aedra could with people, after all. The same could be said for Erandur and Mara.
"Yes, he told me all about your injuries, Keeper Carcette's predicament as a vampire, and the attack on the Vigil, and the Dawnguard." Florentius made it very apparent that he was certainly speaking with the deity. It was quite shocking to Serana, as well. "I assume you're doing well, as you're standing before me now."
Cura nodded. "I'm doing much better. It's been a harrowing experience, but I'll move past it." She made a small glance over to Serana when she stated this.
"So... you're the eccentric priest." Serana looked him up and down, studying his movements.
"Arkay's been watching over me for years now. He says he's not too sure about you yet, though." Florentius stared at Serana. "It is my sworn duty to see Arkay's wrath delivered to all the undead. It's usually a good bit of fun, too."
Serana flinched and Cura quickly interjected. "We need her help. If you kill her, Tamriel, no, Nirn itself, is doomed."
"Very well." Florentius nodded. "I was only jesting. Arkay says you intend to help, so we'll go with that." He was willing to overlook Serana's condition for the time being.
"I came to ask you if you wanted to help bring the fight to the real monsters." Cura explained. "To join the Dawnguard."
"A noble cause, Arkay likes the idea very much, so I'm happy to help." Florentius smiled and gave a polite bow. "I will go to Dayspring Canyon quickly."
"Thank you." Cura smiled.
Florentius gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Do not worry, Cura; the Divines are watching over you. Stendarr, Arkay, Mara, and Kynareth, in particular at this time. Be strong and carry on with your duties with their blessing." He released her and walked away, and after some focus, Fast Travelled to the Rift.
"I suppose Akatosh, Zenithar and Dibella are on vacation." Serana scoffed as she began to feel antsy, particularly with the mention of Mara.
Cura was about to add in Talos but was not certain if Serana knew of him. Cura sighed lightly and held a hand to her heart. She believed Florentius in his assertion. Stendarr... you really do care for us. She felt in her heart. As she and Serana walked through the city, Cura decided to take a rest stop at Dead Man's Drink. She decided that maybe it could be fun to let Serana try some of the "new" drinks and menu items.
Surely things were different in the past, right?
"Steamed Mudcrab legs?" Serana raised her eyebrows. "They still do that?"
"Nords are heavy on tradition." Cura informed her, to which she only got a nod in response.
The pair of them took to one of the tables in the corner of the room with some Honningbrew Mead. Cura insisted on avoiding the Black-Briar Mead if they could help it, knowing who the owner of that company was.
"The atmosphere here is pretty nice." Serana admitted. "It reminds me of the taverns in the old days, just a little more... cramped and small."
"The war." Cura reminded her. "It changed everything for Skyrim. Everything had to be built smaller, for the ailing population and lack of time and resources."
Serana nodded wistfully. "I wish I could bring you back to the past, Cura. You should have seen it. Falcrenth had buildings made of stone and proper mortar. The streets were solid, and the skyline minimal. It looked entirely different."
"Indeed! All of the History books speak of it as such!" A flamboyant young blonde Imperial man wearing a set of green fine clothes with brown fur lining the collar butt into the conversation. "That was a long time ago, before the Great War, even. I need to brush up a little on Skyrim's history, but I will certainly get back to you on that!" He sounded incredibly excited and enthusiastic on the topic.
Cura and Serana both turned to stare at the young man, who caught them both off-guard.
The Imperial cleared his throat. "Excuse me, madam. I don't normally do this, but... erm... have you got a moment to talk?"
Cura shrugged. "Of course. Is everything all right?"
"Marvelous!" The blonde Imperial became excited. "My name is Lucien Flavius. I'm a scientist, philosopher, amateur wizard, and something of a musician, though I suppose that's more of a hobby."
"It's nice to meet you." Cura extended a hand to shake, when Lucien continued.
"I couldn't help noticing that you seem... how can I put this... well-acquainted with the less savory side of Skyrim?" Lucien cringed at his attempt to not come off as brusque.
Serana was taken aback. "Excuse me?"
Cura became slightly defensive. "I've seen a thing or two. Do you need help with something?"
"As a matter of fact, I do." Lucien nudged his index finger in Cura's direction in punctuation. "I'm here in Skyrim on an expedition-academic mainly. I find the province simply fascinating! The flora, the fauna, the ruins-both Dwemer and Nordic- the architecture, the politics..."
"Be careful with that here." Cura warned him in a friendly way. "Saying the wrong politics can have you hurt, or worse."
Lucien nodded. "Trouble is, I'm really not much of a fighter. I know a few spells and can just about swing a sword, but beyond that I'm pretty useless in combat!"
"What a Dandy." Serana rolled her eyes.
"Skyrim's no place for a... "milk-drinker" like me-not on my own, anyway!" Lucien agreed. "So, I'm asking for someone to travel with."
Serana instantly shook her head in protest, but Cura considered it. "Go on." the Breton ushered him.
"I suppose what I'm asking is, would you awfully mind if I... tag along?" Lucien shrunk a little as he brought himself to ask. "I will of course compensate you most handsomely for putting up with me."
"Oh, you don't have to-" Cura wasn't planning to take the fellow's cash.
"How much?" Serana butt in.
"Oh, shall we say three hundred septims up front?" Lucien proposed. "After that, I'll top you up every time we come across something useful to my research. At your discretion, of course. No obligations, save that you take me with you, and assist in keeping me alive wherever possible."
"Fine, it's a deal." Serana solidified it.
"Serana!" Cura exclaimed. "I didn't-"
"Three hundred septims is still a lot, if the cost of the meal told me anything." Serana was referring to the ridiculously low price for the Mudcrab Legs. "Take the money."
"Well, I wouldn't want to see him hurt." Cura worried. "What we're doing is no stroll through the Park. You'd do better by hiring one of the Companions to trek you through the fields of Whiterun."
"Maybe you could let him join. Isran let that farmer boy in, right?" Serana referred to Agmaer.
"I suppose... but... well..." Cura was uncertain, but with enough goading from Serana and Lucien's puppy eyes, she relented. "All right, I... I suppose I could allow it."
"Oh, splendid! Here's your gold." Lucien handed Cura a bag of exactly 300 septims. He planned ahead, clearly. "This is going to be quite the adventure!"
"Quite." Serana remarked with a sardonic smirk.
"So... about your combat abilities..." Cura scratched her chin. "Maybe I could help you in that department. The Dawnguard, as well."
"Wait, you're with the Dawnguard?" Lucien's eyes lit up. "I've heard people talking about the new Vampire Hunters based on the old organization! Though... you're dressed like a Vigilant of Stendarr."
"I am." Cura informed him.
"Rough patch for your group." Lucien stated. "I just got here from Cyrodiil. The Vigilants there were talking about a Vampire attack in Skyrim, and that the last Keeper was killed and is going to be replaced. Is that true?"
"Not entirely." Cura told him. "Come with me, and I'll explain exactly what you've gotten yourself into on the way."
Serana was trying not to laugh, and thus hid her face beneath her black hood as she followed Cura's lead.
"Oh, goody!" Lucien exclaimed. "It sounds thrilling! I can't wait!" He enthusiastically followed the Vampiress and the Vigilant outside the Inn.