Cura and Lydia found themselves back in Jorrvaskr, and Skjor was there, near the entrance. It seemed as though he were waiting for their arrival, judging by the way he was postured, leaning against the entrance door.
"Ah, there you are, whelp." He spoke to Cura. "Vilkas was looking for you. You'll find him in the courtyard."
"What is it?" Cura asked him, hoping to know what to expect.
"Something to do with training." Skjor informed her, and then turned to Lydia. "And you'll be training with Farkas in the field. Make the best of it, and be patient with him, will you?"
"Fine. I'll try not to run circles around him." Lydia shrugged as she went on her way, leaving Cura behind.
Cura pushed open the back door and headed outside, where she saw Njada, Ria, Athis, Aela, Farkas, and Vilkas. All were training amongst each other and sparring with the training Dummies.
Vilkas was talking to Ria in the corner of the court, and Cura was able to hear a little of their conversation as she stepped within earshot.
Ria groaned with irritation against her skill. "It just feels so slow."
Vilkas laughed reassuringly. "It will feel that way for a while. But eventually you'll get used to it, and then you'll get faster with it. After that, the shortsword will feel like a knitting needle when you pick it up again."
Ria turned to him with a dirty look expressed. "I've never held a knitting needle." It was clear shat the Imperial woman did not appreciate the assumption of her domestic life.
Vilkas shrugged, and deciding to avoid an argument, relented. "Of course not. My mistake."
"Skjor said you wanted to see me?" Cura asked as she approached closer.
"Hi, Cura!" Ria exclaimed.
"Hello." Cura responded to her before facing Vilkas directly.
"Yes." Vilkas began. "I just got my armour back from Eorlund. Good of you to get that done quickly, New Blood."
"Oh... it's no trouble." Cura spoke modestly. "So... is that all that you called me here to tell me about?" She was inviting him to give her another answer.
"No; we're going to work on your self-control." Vilkas explained. "You're strong, there's no doubt about that. Though, you lack discipline. You strike me as the sort who would either go too hard, or too soft, wherever your emotions take you."
Cura could not deny that. She simply nodded in correspondence.
"You've got to get a handle on that." Vilkas spoke. "I can help you, Whelp."
Cura smirked. Clearly, he was trying to goad her on. "All right."
"Let's have at it, then." Vilkas drew a Steel mace and Banded Iron shield. "I think this is about your style, yes?"
Cura drew her own Steel mace and Banded Iron Shield. "Yes."
Vilkas scoffed. "A mace. Pathetic."
"What's wrong with it?" Cura asked, perplexed.
"A blunt weapon will only get you so far, Icebrain." Vilkas spat, as he took a stance. "Against one with a sword, you have to take the extra precaution, because their attack will most certainly connect first, if they use a sword, or dagger."
Cura raised her shield. "That's why I have this."
"Indeed. But what happens once Banded Iron meets Steel?" Vilkas posed the question. "You need a better shield. That won't last long."
"It's lasted this long." Cura shrugged as she took her stance.
"Come at me." Vilkas narrowed his eyes as he raised his shield.
Cura quickly rushed forward and slammed down onto the shield, and quickly leapt to the right to avoid the rebound from Vilkas.
"Not bad." Vilkas exclaimed. "But can you handle this?" He quickly followed up with a swipe to the side, which Cura quickly deflected with her own shield, allowing the mace's ridged head to skim the metal.
She usurped the air for herself and pivoted to the side, and jabbed Vilkas in the chest with the tip of the mace, butting him backwards a couple of steps.
Aela and Skjor walked over and leaned against the cobblestone wall nearby, watching the scuffle in amusement.
Vilkas decided to take it up a notch. He dodged a downward strike, and headbutted Cura in the forehead after closing the distance. Once the Breton was stunned momentarily, he brought the mace upwards in a sideways arc, catching the side of her face and knocking her to the floor with a virulent spin through the air.
Cura hit the ground with a violent thud, causing Aela to cringe.
A fury overcame Cura, and she quickly rolled away to regain distance. Blood ran down her face and her beautiful blonde hair was running crimson on her right side.
"This is why you Vigilants should invest in helmets." Skjor laughed from the offside.
Ria was watching from the sidelines as well, and grit her teeth in sympathetic pain when she noticed the blood pouring down the Breton's face, now that her hood was down.
Cura snarled angrily and tackled Vilkas, causing him to hold her back with the shield. She used her own to deflect a blow from around her side and drilled Vilkas with her mace in response. Cura did not know what overcame her, but she hissed out the gutteral words "Zu'u bo wah krii hi!" from deep within her throat. She then pulled his shield back when he was dazed, and her eyes, lit with the fury of a Dragon revealed a killing intent.
Vilkas quickly threw her off of him and butted her with his mace. Cura predicted the motion, and opened her mouth as she leapt backwards.
"YOL-"
Vilkas tossed his shield at her, breaking the Shout. With the sudden shock of the impact, Cura came to her senses with a gasp.
Vilkas was ready to follow up on his last move, but Cura quickly docked her mace back on her hip, calling the match. "I need a moment." Cura stated.
"In the middle of a battle, you don't get a moment to rest." Vilkas informed her.
"I know. I've been in enough of them to know that." Cura admitted. "For all of our sakes, I must stop."
"Hmph. I almost thought you were going to try and kill me back there." Vilkas said with a light laugh. "You've got a bit too much spirit there, Whelp."
If only he knew.
"On the contrary," Aela interjected as she approached. "her blood boils fiercely with a might that I myself can relate to. Well done, Shield-Sister. You'd make a fine Hunting Partner, were you not a Vigilant."
"I can hunt." Cura raised an eyebrow. "I've been slaying Dragons left, right, and center. And a Vampire."
"Interesting story-you'll have to tell me about it sometime." Aela seemed impressed.
Skjor looked a little impressed. "I believe her. After all, I was there when she landed the finishing blow on the Dragon at the Whiterun Watchtower."
"You can fight Dragons, but your fighting of Humanoid enemies is lackluster." Vilkas explained. "You seem to be used to fighting things larger than yourself-at least when it comes to using Melee weapons."
In that instant, Eorlund Gray-Mane came down from the Skyforge, with a set of Plated Steel Armour. Cura tracked him with her eyes as he quickly approached.
"Cura, I've been waiting for you to come back." Eorlund stated. "Here, take this. Consider it a gift from my Family."
Cura graciously accepted the armour. She held it up and ogled it for a while. "Wow... this is incredible craftsmanship."
"Of course it is!" Eorlund crossed his arms. "It was forged by a Master Blacksmith at the Skyforge itself. Shouldn't be mere Journeyman's work."
Aela laughed. "Don't be so salty, Eorlund. The lass just needs to get used to life as a Companion, is all. Not many are blessed with getting their hands on the goods of the Skyforge."
"'Course." Eorlund stated. "Ah, yes-I forgot to tell you, Cura... your little friends dropped by earlier."
"My friends?" Cura raised a brow for a second, assuming he was referring to either Sven, Camilla, or Lucan.
"Aye. Vigilants." Eorlund elaborated. "Brought me a few Precious Stones. Said they got 'em from Ruunvald. Honestly, I could give a damn where they got 'em." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Just know you ain't the only one gettin' Steel armour. Your Keeper's adamant 'bout protectin' the Vigilants on the roads."
Cura smiled. "Thank you, Eorlund."
"Fine. Now let me get back to my work." The old crank snuffed as he walked back up the stairs to return to his forge above the rest of the world.
Cura took the armour, and, finding a hidden area, put it on. She then decided to put her Apprentice Robes on over the armour, to obscure it and to keep the Restoration Enchantment the robes granted. As she was lightly tying up the belt, the thought struck her: I spoke in Dragon's Tongue. and threatened him. I actually threatened to kill him. How did that come so naturally to me? Stendarr, I need your help. Please, do not forsake me...
A deep fear threatened the paladin, but she quickly shrugged it off and decided to hide her viciousness with confidence instead. Perhaps she could salvage the meeting yet.
Aela scoffed. "I suppose they'd need it." She said venomously. It was clear that she tolerated Cura out of respect for her prowess in a fight, but she did not extend the same for the Vigil. "After all, they are mostly incompetent at their job, from what I've seen."
"Or from what you've experienced, eh?" Skjor made a point to the huntress, which she just as quickly dismissed. The redhead turned her face to the direction their resident Vigilant walked to ensure whether or not Cura was within earshot.
"Do you really want her to know?" Aela sneered. "She might actually be able to kill one of us... on an off-day. Not to mention that her cohorts are sniveling about the Hold like Cockroaches in a cupboard."
"Kodlak thinks that Cura is different, somehow." Skjor stated. "I'm not entirely sure, but I trust the Old man's judgment."
Vilkas scratched his chin, in thought. "Well... she is different, that's for certain." The Nord chuckled lightly. He wasn't sure about it, but there was something about Cura that he did enjoy; her ferocity and conviction. If he didn't know any better, he would assume she was a member of their pack already.
Aela shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. I'll go with whatever Kodlak decides, but I don't have to like it."
"Just keep up your big smile." Skjor insisted. "She'll only ever find out if we let her into the Circle. She could very well die in one of her battles against one of those Dragons, or falling off a mountain, and will never be the wiser. Nobody lives forever; not even these Half-Elves."
She came back to the group. "Does it show?" the Breton asked, wanting to ensure that her foes would not detect the armour easily.
"Hiding your armour, eh?" Vilkas asked. "Pretty cowardly, if you ask me."
"What's next?" Cura prodded. "Is wearing armour in and of itself going to be considered cowardly?"
"Don't push my mood, Breton." Vilkas warned. "Might just lose your head next time around."
"Or you yours." Cura muttered a retort beneath her breath, causing him to turn around.
"What was that?" Vilkas asked, expecting either a denial, or a secondary remark to come his way.
Aela snickered, and Skjor was unimpressed at the bravado of both parties.
Cura remained silent, and unfazed. She was trying her hand at being bold for a change, and as much as she'd hate to admit it, it felt somewhat satisfying.
"You're cute, but don't think that means you can push it, Whelp." Vilkas spoke with honesty beyond a veiled threat. "You're still new here, so I'm only going to warn you. Next time, I'll fight you for real. Now, get that blood cleaned off and get a job from Aela, Skjor or Farkas."
"You're not giving out jobs?" Cura asked Vilkas in a teasing fashion.
"Ysmir's beard, woman!" Vilkas snapped at her.
Cura was taken aback by the hostility, and Vilkas walked away. She then turned to Aela and Skjor. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Vilkas is like that sometimes." Aela laughed. "Don't take it personally. It just means that he likes you."
"He likes me?" Cura scoffed. "What a strange way to express it." She shook her head as she watched Vilkas walking away, as well as Ria off in the distance.
"So, do you want a job or not?" Skjor snapped.
"Ah!" Cura jumped lightly. "Yes, of course! What do you have available?"
"Your first job," Aela noted. "excited?"
"Absolutely!" Cura exclaimed. "What will it be?"
"A family had a valuable stolen. They believe the culprits took it to a location, and you're to retrieve it for them." Skjor gave a simplified summary. "You interested?"
Cura nodded. "All right. Where am I going, and what am I getting?"
"A Man here in Whiterun-Amren. His Sword was stolen, and he needs some help in getting it back. You can usually find him around the Marketplace. Tall Redguard, wears a Studded Armour set." Skjor instructed. "He'll provide you with the details."
"All right." Cura confirmed. "I will do just that."
"Sure, but clean the blood off your face." Skjor reminded her.
"Ah. yes." Cura touched the side of her face and realized that though the bleeding stopped, and the wound was slowly closing by itself, the blood was still fresh. Cura quickly headed down the steps of Jorrvaskr and, using the small ravine that surrounded the giant dead tree, she began to rinse the blood off her face and out of her hair, much to the disgust of Heimskr, who was still prattling on and on about Talos, pausing only briefly due to this odd distraction.
Cura then ran down the stairs from the central district, towards the marketplace below. She had some bad memories of the place, after the incident that had occurred with Idolaf Battle-Born. She was not going to forget it anytime soon.
Immediately, Jon Battle-Born noticed her coming down the stairs and approached her. "You've got some nerve coming around here." He sneered. "After what you did to my Brother." He leaned in close, trying to intimidate the Dragonborn.
"He did it to himself." Cura snarled back. "I tried to avoid the fight, but he lashed out first. Remember that."
Jon slowly stepped back, unsure if that was a threat of some kind or not, and allowed Cura to pass. "I hope the Divines curse you." He spat from a distance.
Sure enough, Amren was coming up the path towards the Marketplace, and Cura approached him quickly. "Ah! Are you Amren?" She asked.
"Yeah, who wants to know?" Amren crossed his arms and raised a brow in questioning.
"You're not from Skyrim, are you?" Cura was wondering, judging by his quick judgment of her.
"No, I'm a Redguard. My family hails from the Imperial Province. Ah, but I left home when I was just a lad. Been wandering ever since." Amren confessed. "Now, you didn't answer my question."
"I'm Cura of the Pale. Vigilant of Stendarr, and current Newcomer to the Companions." The Breton proudly introduced herself, omitting 'Dragonborn' intentionally.
"So you got my request, then." Amren discerned. "My Saffir doesn't like that I've been spending so much time looking for my father's old sword. He fed his entire family with the gold he made using that weapon. I'm not about to let it gather dust in some thief's trophy room."
"Understandable." Cura sympathized. "What can I do to help?"
"I tracked it to a group of bandits nearby. But I'm no fool. I'd need the Whiterun guards or maybe hire the Companions to get it. That's where you come in." He sounded a little insecure in his dealings. "If you can somehow get it out of the Swindler's Den, I'd be grateful."
"So, where are the Swindlers hiding?" Cura asked.
"Swindler's Den. I just told you." Amren looked irritated. "Am I supposed to rely on someone who can't understand basic instructions?"
It dawned on her. "Ahh. Swindler's Den is the actual name of the location." Cura mused.
"Yes!" Amren stressed.
"All right." Cura stated. "I'll go to the Swindler's Den, and get your Father's sword back."
"Do you know where it is?" Amren asked satirically, having lost all confidence in the Breton.
"No, but I can search-"
"Give me your map." Amren demanded Cura hand him her parchment. She did so, and he quickly jotted it down. "It's there. East of Rorikstead. You can't miss it if you tried."
"I'm not native to Whiterun." Cura reminded him. "Once I've gotten used to the hold, I'll be quicker to find places."
"Fine, but just be careful." Amren insisted. "I don't want to be the reason for your death."
Cura shook her head. "You won't be." She walked past the baffled Redguard and headed out the front gate of Whiterun. When she looked at the sun's positioning and calculated the trajectory of the cast shadows, she determined that Rorikstead, which was Westward to Whiterun the City, was to her right from where she stood. With a sense of direction now pinpointed, Cura headed off to find the Swindler's Den.
After some trekking through the open autumnal fields, and sme scuffles against Saber Cats, Wolves, and Skeevers, Cura noticed a small congregation of other Vigilants of Stendarr, and they seemed to be heading towards what looked like two large columns jutting from the ground off in the distance.
When she closed in, Cura saw two pillars that seemed to be all that remained of an old ruined building, perhaps a temple of sorts, with a shrine to Stendarr sitting atop a rock between the columns. On the altar were some offerings; a couple of swords, some gold and an Amethyst gem. There was also a strong box with other treasures and a skill book titled "The Twin Secrets'.
The other Vigilants waved to Cura, and she waved back. "Hail." She responded.
"You did a good job, Vigilant Cura. We're already on our way towards improving things here in Skyrim." one of the Vigilants praised. "We've set up this Shrine here, so if you're ever in the area, you can come and pray."
"Excellent!" Cura exclaimed. She stepped up to the altar, and kneeled before it. "Come to me, Stendarr, for without you, I might be deaf to the manswarm murmurings of thy people, and forgetting their need for comfort and wisdom, I might indulge myself in vain scribbling." Cura recited an old mantra to the God of Mercy, and left a few gold coins as an offering at the Shrine Base. She turned to the other Vigilants. "Stendarr be with you." And proceeded to head Northward, where she saw a very shifty-looking cave with a Bandit standing outside it, smoking an odd-looking pipe, reminiscent to the kind she had seen Dunmer smoking from time to time.
"You picked a bad time to get lost, friend!" the Bandit declared as he immediately dropped his pipe to the floor, crushed it beneath his boot, and took out his battleaxe. He quickly scrambled through the moist, pine-green grass, and under the shadow of clouds, raced towards the Breton with murderous intent.
Cura rolled her eyes, and with a quick duck and spin, shattered his right set of ribs with a harsh blow from the top slant of her shield. The man quickly hit the ground, and she dropped down on one knee, and brought her mace down on his face, caving his cranium inwards, killing the assailant.
Worm.
Cura took a sum of 23 gold from the loser's purse, and headed on inside what was the Swindler's Den.
When she took to the interior, she was beset by several Bandits, all running towards her in a group.
She would demonstrate to them the power of the Dragonborn.
"YOL TOOR!" Cura shouted, igniting the frivolous caverns with smoldering hot ember.
The bandits wailed and cried under the crackling of the flame before dropping like charred flies. Cura stepped past them and moved on forward through the old den, Slow tapping sounds of water droplets and Cura's footsteps broke the stagnant silence of the cavern itself. Eventually, Cura noticed a chest, and approached it, and examined the container. It was unlocked.
When she opened it, she saw an Iron Sword with a special gem implanted in the hilt. That had to be Amren's Family Sword. Praise Stendarr! The Breton took the sword out and placed it on her back for safe carrying, when suddenly, footsteps emerged from behind her.
Before Cura could whirl around and swing her mace, a sword was positioned towards her neck. It was an odd sword, to be sure. It was curved. A scimitar. When Cura's eyes traced the blade to the crossguard, to the hand that wielded it, and then to its owner, it was a Redguard man.
"Stealing from Bandits, are we?" He asked mockingly. "Not something I'd normally expect from a Crusader."
Cura moved out of the way quickly and put up her shield, and then she saw that there were many more Redguards; Warriors from the Alik'r specifically. They did not seem hostile, but they were unanimously tracking her every movement, which made the Breton feel uneasy. Cura remembered that she was not simply an ordinary Breton, which helped raise her courage. "I'm recovering something that was stolen from a man in Whiterun. Not stealing."
The Redguard sheathed his scimitar. "Whiterun, you say? Stay your hand. I think we can all profit from the situation in which we find ourselves. My men will not attack you, if you will lower your weapons." He scratched his chin as he began to consider something. "We're looking for a woman; a Redguard, like us.
Cura docked her mace and tilted her head. "A Redguard woman in Whiterun? I've seen a couple, actually."
"Two? Well, I can see how that could prove confusing for you. See, we have no authority in Whiterun, but I've seen that you Vigilants seem to have some kind of entry authority. I will pay you good money if you can bring us information on the Redguard women." The Redguard offered.
"Why are you looking for this woman?" Cura asked. She did not want to get involved with matters of Hammerfell on top of everything else she already had on her plate.
"That's none of your business." One of the Alik'r Warriors spat, immediately setting a line in the dirt.
The Leader raised a hand, as if to silence his cohort. He then turned back to Cura. "She sold the city out to the Aldmeri Dominion. Were it not for her betrayal, Taneth could have held its ground in the war. The other noble houses discovered her betrayal and she fled. They want her brought back alive. The resistance against the Dominion is alive and well in Hammerfell, and they want justice."
Cura raised an eyebrow. "The resistance is alive and well, but Taneth was taken?" she was not familiar with the current state of the other Provinces, so she would have to take his word for it. "I don't know if any of that is true. Why should I help you and not report you for aiding Bandits?"
The Redguard rolled his eyes. "What is it that she's calling herself these days? Shazra? Saadia? One of those, correct? Did she appeal to your sense of honor? Your greed? A more... base need, perhaps? It doesn't matter. No doubt she's convinced you that she's the victim. But, do you know why we pursue her?"
Saadia.
The name rung a bell. She remembered when she stayed at the Bannered Mare, Hulda's assistant, the Redguard. Saadia.
"Are you Assassins of some kind?" Cura surmised by how quickly and silently the man moved.
"Assassins? No, nothing so crass. "Saadia", as you know her, is wanted by the noble houses of Taneth for treason. We were hired to see her returned to Hammerfell for her crimes. You can help us with that, and make sure no one else gets hurt."
"I don't know about this." Cura told him.
"She will trust you, at least to some extent. She's probably seen you around the city, helping others. Lead her to the stables outside Whiterun. We'll be waiting to take her into custody. I'll gladly share a portion of the bounty in return for your efforts in seeing proper justice done." The Alik'r leader proposed.
"It's really not my business." Cura explained. "For all I know, Saadia could really be a fleeing Taneth Noble, and the lot of you are turncoats working for the Aldmeri Dominion to capture her, and bring her to her execution in the effort to demoralize the resistance."
"I promise you, we are not," the leader shook his head. "though I understand your suspicion. You can never be too careful these days."
"Good. Then you understand why I'm declining your offer." Cura turned away towards the exit.
"Most people would have easily accepted my offer. I find it difficult to believe that you don't need money." The brigand tempted her.
"I will be earning some, actually." Cura spouted smugly. "Find someone else to do your dirty work."
"I figured a Crusader of Stendarr would be more interested in bringing Justice to the world," the Redguard goaded. "Maybe that's why your God doesn't seem to be helping your group so much."
"Stendarr helps us every day, cretin." Cura was not going to take the bait. She headed out of the caverns and into the open field.
Regardless of what they would say, it was highly suspicious to begin with that they would be holed up with Bandits. Perhaps she should have settled it with fire and blood instead.
No. Cura shook the thought off. That would have placed her in the crosshairs of the Alik'r. She made the right choice.
Sure enough, the Breton arrived back in Whiterun, and noticed Amren still wandering the market. She hurried over to the Redguard with the sword in tow. "Is this your Family Sword?" she asked as she held out the unique blade.
"That's it!" Amren exclaimed. "Thank you so much! You'll never know what this means to me! I've been looking for that blade for months." He looked up from the sword and then stared at Cura in disbelief. "You took on all those bandits yourself?"
"I did." Cura stated. "They were quite... dysfunctional, shall we say?" She found the nearest word that came to her. If it were accurate or not was besides the point. The Bandits were easily dispatched, at the end of the day.
"I see... well, thank you. Here, my father had a favorite sword and shield technique. Let me teach it to you, in honor of his memory." Amren offered, as he held out the iron sword and his own iron shield. He demonstrated a fascinating technique where he shield bashed, and then spun the blade counter-clockwise, as if aiming to cut off his enemy's hand.
Cura did as best as she could to mimic the motions, using her mace, as she had no sword to speak of. She never truly desired to use one. The heavy head of the mace made the twirl a bit awkward, but after a couple of tries, the Breton finally got the hang of it. Perhaps she could use this technique to one day break a foe's wrist, rather than dismember them.
"You learn quickly." Amren declared as he sheathed his sword. "Must be one of the perks of being a Dragonborn, huh?"
"You know about that?" Cura asked him, a little surprised.
"How could I not after the way you Shouted at Idolaf in the town the other day?" Amren said sardonically. He saw Cura's expression fall. "Well, actually, I just heard the talk about the town. That's all. Have a good day, now." He walked away, heading up the stairs to the higher district. Cura walked the same way, but before she could reach the steps, Fralia approached her.
"Oh, hello, Fralia." Cura addressed the elder.
"Hello, Cura, dear!" Fralia greeted cordially. "Do you like the armour Eorlund forged for you?"
"I do." Cura said with a smile. She lifted the bottom of her robe to reveal that she was wearing it underneath. "It fits me nicely, and gives me just enough room to maneuver in it. It's all I could ever ask for!"
"I'm glad, dear!" Fralia said with a smile, and she took Cura's hand. "You take care of yourself, now."
Cura nodded. "I will. You as well, Fralia. Be safe."
"Talos guide you." Fralia closed the conversation in true Nord fashion.
"Stendarr be with you." Cura reciprocated, trading Divine for Divine.
Fralia simply nodded, clearly not as receptive to Stendarr as to Talos, but pleased with the notion just the same. The two went their separate ways, and Cura arrived back at Jorrvaskr. Skjor was quite easy to find, as he was feasting in the Main Hall with Kodlak and Aela.
"Back so soon?" Skjor asked as Cura approached.
"I retrieved the sword and brought it back to Amren." Cura stated.
"And you're back in time for lunch" Skjor was impressed. "Maybe I misjudged you after all, Whelp." He stood up from the table and handed Cura a coin purse with the amount of 300 coins within it. "Here. Don't spend it all in one place." He remarked snidely.
Eorlund looked amused, himself. "Well done on your first mission." The Harbinger praised. "How does it feel?"
"It feels... well... interesting, I suppose." Cura was lost for words yet again. What she felt within was a sense of contentment, relief, and a tad bit of platitude. It seemed very easy for a first task, but she supposed it would be like that, naturally.
"'Interesting?'" Skjor seemed perplexed by her response. "A little too easy for you, Whelp?"
"A little." Cura admitted. "I've slain Dragons. Drunken Bandits were a nonissue."
Skjor let out a loud 'Hmph!' as he sat back down at his table. "Fine, then. But I will warn you; those are mostly the sort of things we deal with on a daily basis. If that bores you, maybe you can leave the Companions."
"Don't be so brash, Skjor!" Kodlak chastised. "Surely you've had missions yourself that were beneath your worth. Remember that you were a Newblood once, as well."
"My apologies, Harbinger." Skjor relented.
"Come, Cura." Kodlak pulled out the chair beside him. "Sit with me, and be merry! Your first mission still deserves a celebration." He filled a tankard with Honningbrew Mead.
Cura happily accepted the old man's invitation, and made herself comfortable. She took the tankard into her hands.
"To a long and prosperous life in the Companions!" Kodlak held up his tankard, and Cura clanked hers against it, and the two chugged down the Mead immediately afterwards.
Cura shivered from the strength of the cold alcoholic honey. "Oof... that's some strong Mead."
"Honningbrew Meadery. Sabjorn makes a fine brew." Skjor said as he guzzled down his own. "Though, it doesn't compare to the Black-Briar Mead. A shame it's so difficult to get that down here from Riften."
"All the more reason to appreciate that which we have, right?" Kodlak stated as he filled himself another cupfull of Honningbrew. "Do you want another, Cura?" He motioned the bottle towards her.
"No, that's all right.' Cura eaved a hand. "One is enough for me. I'll be attending a vigil tonight, and I must be sober."
"A vigil?" Kodlak raised an eyebrow. "For whom?"
"Members of the Vigil." Cura explained. "Many were charmed by a Vampiric Altmer. Many died as we tried to lift the affliction. It was... horrible, to say the least." Her hand was shaking as she recounted the bloody battle against the Vigilants in the caverns, her duel with Moric, Lydia's staunch defense, and the eventual slaying of the Vampire by an angry Moric.
"Impressive." Kodlak mused. "Not many could face a Vampire, let alone a witch and live to tell the tale."
"It... certainly wasn't easy." Cura stated.
"As well, I've heard talk about your sparring match with Vilkas." Kodlak called into the spotlight. "You lost your temper, Ria said. After you took a quite nasty blow to the head. How is that?"
"Well, I've been under a lot of pressure lately-"
"I meant your head. How is it?" Kodlak interrupted.
"Oh! Well, it's all right. It healed up quickly, and I washed the blood off." Cura put it lightly. " Thank you for asking."
Kodlak nodded. "And about your temper, lass. Remember to always be in control of yourself; once you slip up, dire and unforeseen consequences may follow. Your foe could take advantage of your bestial mindset, or you could cause more damage than intended. There is a fine balance you must strike as a warrior. Always remember to keep your wits about you."
"Keeper Carcette has been telling me that for years." Cura mused. "I'm... an emotional sponge, I suppose you could say."
"Fitting then, that you would use a blunt weapon, ha, ha!" Kodlak laughed. "I mean you no offense, but I've always supposed the reason why Clerics and the like resorted to Blunt weapons was because they provide a satisfying way to release one's anger. I imagine that you Vigilants keep a lot of anger caged up, like a violent beast."
Cura nodded. "I suppose we do. But we do live under the mindset that Daedra could be lurking about every corner, waiting to inflict harm onto the world. We treat the Oblivion Crisis as the travesty that it was."
"Aye, that is surely was." Kodlak admitted. "I suppose it is good that there is such a group, that dedicates themselves to slaying evil and removing curses, as well, I would presume."
"Removing Curses? Well... I suppose, in a way. If there were ways to do so." She shrugged. "Ordinarily, that would be the domain of a Cleric, like, say, Brother Adalvald, or Brother Florentius."
Neither Skjor, nor Kodlak knew who she was referring to, but Cura continued.
"And our Organization is only now starting to pick up its pace. I hope we can improve ourselves come the future. And I hope that we could find a way to classify Dragons as Daedric, so they could be officially hunted. For now, most people just attack them on sight, but we should take the time to study them. See what drives them. Though, with everything else going on, it can be difficult."
At that moment, Lydia came inside with Farkas. He leaned against a pillar, and Lydia walked around the fire, and approached Cura. "My Thane! You raided a Bandit Camp?" She asked.
"I did." Cura stated. "Come, sit beside me and I'll explain the whole event."
Lydia pulled up a seat, and the two began to share their experiences of the day.
The day flitted by like a falling leaf, and soon the sun was setting, and then night blanketed the world. Cura and Lydia both decided to close off the day by parting Jorrvaskr, and Fast Travelled back to the Hall of the Vigilant.
In the wintry field ahead of the Hall, they could see many Vigilants gathered there under the moonlight, glowing with orange light as they held up their torches. Florentius, the Priest of Arkay, was beginning his speech.
Cura took a spare torch and hurried down the hillside to meet up with the others, and found Keeper Carcette and Vigilant Moric in the crowd. She walked past Moric, and stood beside the Keeper. Lydia stayed behind, as she had no real connection to the group to begin with,
Florentius spoke. "Come to me, Arkay, for without you, there is neither breath nor beginning, nor can any man live, love, or learn without the spark of your spirit." The Vigilants lowered their heads.
Cura allowed herself to feel the sorrow of loss, and shed a few tears as she gazed down upon the white snow beneath her feet. The aurora lit up the night sky, hanging there like a colourful curtain above them all; Aetherus itself opening to welcome the souls of the departed, it looked like.
Somehow, Cura knew that there would be much more death to come. The Dragon threat was just beginning, a Civil War ravaged the land, and the wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.