*flashback*
Three by years ago.
Jorgensen shook the snow off his fur coat and took a deep breathe as he knocked on the door to the secluded shack deep in the forests of Falkreath. His deep breath was not so much for fear as it was acceptance. After spending half a decade fighting off dragons just to then have to fight off Harkon and Miraak, he was weary.
Weary of traveling to places like this and finding yet another threat to his world. Weary of having to fight it. Weary of all the killing, justified or not. He accepted it was not over for him though, and that it probably never was. He could spend most of his time at home with his children letting his wife's business grow. He could send his acolytes to complete most of the undesirable parts of his obligations but there is never truly a rest or a real retirement for the Dragonborn.
He knew here he atleast had a chance to keep diplomacy as an option despite being armed with a mace. He wore casual clothes instead of his armor to maybe show a sigh of good faith to whoever or whatever he heard behind that door as the lock clicked.
The door opened to find an elderly greying Breton man. The man looked at him almost as if he knew he was coming.
"Well met, sir. Jorgensen Snow-Shield." He said as he extended his hand it to him.
"Of course, you're a man who requires no introduction. My name is Salvenia." He said to him as he met his hand shake.
They both took a moment to size each other up before Salvenia broke the silence.
"Where are my manners? You'll have to forgive me, not too many visitors in what many believe are a haunted forest. Please come inside, the winter weather is becoming quite unruly." He said as he stepped to the side and help open the door for Jorgensen.
Jorgensen stepped inside and made a good look around the shack. As most of these buildings , it a was just one room. A bed and nightstand in one corner. A small kitchen and a few storage containers along with a small table right in the middle. His first thought was how unusually tall this Breton was and despite the dreary shack he was living in, he seemed to have plenty of well maintained weapons and armor neatly hung up on the notable was the ebony armor with gold trim. On the chest piece was a crest, a V being reflected in water and surrounded by the symbols of the five schools of magic. It was an armor he had never seen in person but knew plenty about.
Salvenia grabbed a small bottle of ale and laid out two glasses.
"Please, take a seat. No roads lead here that aren't treacherous. I have a fantastic mead I picked up last time I was in town." He said as he pulled out a chair for Jorgensen and laid out the glasses and poured a very small amount in them.
"I appreciate it but I have what I need in my canteen here. Alcohol and traveling don't mix so well once you get up their in age, I'm sure you understand." Jorgenson said as he pulled out his canteen and opened it up.
"I sure do", Salvenia pointed his glass as a toast towards Jorgensen who himself tilted his canteen.
"To surviving long enough to feel the grip of aging.", he said
"Here here" Jorgensen toasted back and took a sip.
Jorgenson noticed how little he tilted the glass to drink. Seemed to him it wasn't up high enough to actually drink any of the small amount of mead he had poured.
"So what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I assume it's the dragon that's been skulking around these mountains, seems like a young one but a threat nonetheless. Unfortunately, from one former adventurer to another, I don't think I'll be of much help to you in that regard." He said jokingly.
"Aye, it is only a youth, my acolytes can handle that quite easily. Im here for something different. I'm here because of some reports." He told him
"Some reports? Not sure I'm following you." he asked him confused.
"Well, there is quite the misconception about my Acolytes. Yes, I have them trained to fight and be ready for battle when needed. I've hired the best mercenaries and legionnaires Cyrodill has to offer to make sure of it.
If you were to ask the main populace what the real threats are out there they'll all mostly tell you the same thing. Dragons, Draugr, Spriggans, you know, the scary beasts most won't ever see but they all know it's out there. I think some one with armor and weapons like you have knows the truth about that though, These things are no real concern for the average real evil that lurks in our societies and causes us the most damage is ourselves. After that, it's Daedra. That's the acolytes real purpose. Daedra.
So, things like eliminating what few dragons are left are a within their duties ,sure. That's not why I put them together though, not what their full purpose is. They watch, They study, They report. They are my eyes and ears throughout Skyrim. "
Jorgensen said to him.
"I see." Salvenia said as he took another sip from his mead.
Jorgensen again saw how little motion he used to drink. He made an effort to see how hollow it sounded as he set the cup back down.
"Seems you've brought back the Vigilantes of Stendarr by another name.", Salvenia seemed irritated now
"If I was acting as if I were them, you would be dead by now, Sir.", Jorgensen snapped back defensively.
"Well, you're here because of the reports you say, so what of the reports? I admit to my shrine north of here. I'm doing nothing to cause you or anyone else any concern." He said
"Aye, you're not. I'm not here to tell any man who to pray to. Your shrine is not my concern. My concern is one of a more personal matter.I have all of my Acolytes maintain a log. A pointless task if I didn't read them. For quite some time I've read reports of a man in an Ebony and Gold set of armor praying at an altar with a shrine to Boethia here in Falkreath. Nothing he was reporting indicated you were doing anything harmful so he has you marked as a non threat. It's what you're doing that doesn't involve the shrine that has caught my interest.
For over a year now it seems you leave Falkreath once a month. I started reading logs from other holds. A man wearing the same armor can be seen in Whiterun, The Rift, Eastmarch, The Pale and Winterhold. What I noticed was you seemed to follow a different route each time but reports always end by you being seen in a Shrine in Winterhold not far from the appearance never seemed to follow any missing persons or reported murders. Never followed any suspicious activity in general. Not to them atleast. You recently returned from Winterhold, yes?" Jorgen asked him.
Salvenia took another faint sip, Jorgensen listened as it hit the table. It made the same sound, as if no liquid was being removed from the cup when he would drink.
"I was, I get restless and like to travel. Are you sure you wouldn't like a glass? I'm sensing a rising tension here and this really might help quell it." He offered him yet again.
"No, I need no quelling. You have all you want though." Jorgensen responded back.
"I myself understand the need to leave your nest though. A lot of beautiful and peaceful places to visit in Skyrim. You seem to go right past them on your travels though. Let's be honest, no one visits Winterhold for the sights anyway. Oddly though, You haven't went to claim any of the free land being offered there and you're not trading. Although, you do spend a little time in the city while you're there, don't you?"
"The shrine there is mostly unused, I go there to make sure Boethia is honored there as well." Salvenia again put the cup to his mouth.
"I was in Winterhold recently myself, visiting some friends. You may have heard of them actually, Travius and Vhornyak. 'The spellsword from the slums and the Orc who loves a drink' I'm sure you've heard that song. If not, maybe 'the orphans', 'The knight in Black armor', 'The Flame and The Hammer, or even simply 'The Imperial and The Orc'. I wouldn't refer to them as the last one though. They both hate that one.
I took a visit to your shrine while I was there. For something out in such wilderness you do a good job of maintaining it. The shrines in all the holds you pass through are in great shape actually. Very clean for something that's supposed to be used for sacrifices. It's an interesting way to worship my knowledge, the divines like to send their followers on vague pilgrimages to visit shrines like you have been doing. Daedra, however, generally like to have specific tasks performed for them , Especially Boethia. They are never impressed by praise and adoration.
I was quite confused on what kind of task you might be on. Luckily for me, you left something behind this time. So, when I say I'm here because of reports, it wasn't the reports from my Acolytes, it was the reports I found in here.", Jorgensen then reached into his satchel and pulled out a journal.
Salvenia glared angrily as he saw his missing journal being laid out on the table.
"You want to tell me why you're spying on Travius?" Jorgensen asked him.
With everything now out in the open, Salvenia was stunned. He had no idea how he was going to explain this a way. He knew he had two choices. Tell the truth or remain silent. He chose the latter.
"I have a theory." Jorgenson said to him as he pulled out his canteen and took a large sip.
"You can enjoy listening to it as you pretend to drink that poison you tried to give me."
Salvenia just continued to store at him. Eyes were seething with anger but he knew he couldn't do much of anything. He knew he couldn't fend off the Dragonborn himself and even if he could the knew his Acokytes were not far away.
"On with your theory then Dragon." Salvenia snarled at him
"Certainly. When one is anonymously dropped off at in orphanage, they obviously don't know much of anything about their lineage. Do you know much about how progeny works when men and mer procreate?" Jorgensen asked him.
"Enlighten me master healer" Salvenia responded sarcastically.
"Happily. Well use this as an example of say an Imperial woman and a Breton. If they decide to procreate, the baby will always take on the traits of the mother, So in this case it would be an Imperial. Something always slips through the cracks though, always some trait from the father. Ususally it's the ears, but not always. It's not the case with him now is it?"
Salvenia just remained quiet. Jorgensen could see it in his eyes how defeated he felt right now.
"As powerful as his magical ability can be, he has never been able to quite tap into his greater power appointed to Imperials. He never could harness that birth right of being able to come an enemy once per moon cycle. He eventually just gave up. He had so much ability it didn't matter to him much we started traveling together I noticed something unique about him . He could always use magic but up until he started traveling with me, he rarely ran into foes who used it much. Not many mages to deal with in the Imperial Sewers, not much on a battlefield against The Stormcloaks either.
Once we started traveling together though he encountered rogue wizards, necromancers, draugr, vampires, Daedra, I think you see where I'm going with this. My point is, I noticed he was able to absorb magic being thrown against him. His innate magical ability was so great that I don't think he ever , spell absorption is a skill any mage could learn. Only one race just have the ability to automatically do so, Bretons.
However. With no signature pointy ears and a height that was beyond any Imperial or Breton I've ever met, that never made much sense. Not until I saw you. Now that I've seen you, I can safely say Travius is now the second tallest Breton I've ever met."
Slavenia remained silent as Jorgensen drank again from his canteen.
"The Ebony and Gold armor my men reported, just like the one you have hanging here in your home, it's from House Velvala. We learned a lot about them while training with the Vigilantes of Stendar, they were a cautionary tale. An order of Knights from Wayrest in High Rock. They were once a revered family for their abilities as BattleMages. Proficient in a Unique blend of Destruction, Alteration and Conjuration.
They were sworn at birth to be the watchers and protectors of the royal family in Wayrest. A tradition that lasted nearly five hundred years. Five hundred years is a long time for any family to hold power, especially in High Rock. The ugly truth behind it is that this families long running success was not through their own merits but because of the security, protection and sacrifice afforded to them by House Velvala. You're welcome to correct me at any time, if you think my information is in any way incorrect." Jorgensen gave Salvenia a chance to respond but he continued to angrily stare in silence.
"Roughly fifty years ago. The Patriarch of House Velvala at the time had become tired of being put under the thumb of a ruling family despite it being their bravery and their actions that gave them their status. He wanted to overthrown them and instill Himself in what he believed to be his rightful crown. Between you and I, he was right."
Jorgensen said, he again stopped for a chance to listen but Salvenia continued to sit silently, seething.
"Instead of trying to build an army through alliances with rival houses or even through diplomacy, he decided to seek out the Prince of Plots, gave him a gift. They promised him
His progeny would be given the power and ability to help them overthrow their oppressors. He would be a beacon. In return, they would devote themselves to Boethia. The souls of his family in exchange for a long after, the patriarch was blessed with a son. He was a mighty warrior and a powerful mage. When he was twenty years old himself, he was blessed with sons of his own. Twins.
One day in the middle of dinner, the mutiny was attempted, and failed. It failed because the one believed to be the beacon didn't have the guts to kill the King. The Velvala house became fugitives. Over the next several years they were hunted down and executed for their treachery. Some were never accounted for though. Most importantly, the beacons twin sons and his father, the patriarch."
Slavenia stared at his glass. He was contemplating chugging the poison himself but his stubbornness would never allow it. The head of the Dragon might be quite the gift for Boethia he thought to himself. Jorgensen again had to break the silence.
"So. I ask again, why are you spying on Travius?"
He asked.
"My son was a great warrior and a powerful mage as you said. We all were. He spent too much time around our oppressors and unfortunately his heart was too soft for them. He considered them family and it kept him from doing what needed to be done. It showed me that I was wrong, he was not the beacon.
None of that matters now though. I did everything Boethia asked of me, and I never understood. The last few years I've heard the stories and legends of Travius grow through the taverns. My son was not the beacon, his son was. Now I understand . We were thinking too small. Boethia had a greater means for us. We weren't destined to rule Wayrest or even High Rock as a whole. We were destined to start a new empire. We were destined to rule it, not be its shield of slaves." Slavenia said.
"I have given him a greater purpose. He helped save the entire world with me. What greater purpose do you think he has?" Jorgensen asked.
"My father and his father and all of their fathers before them performed great acts. History will not remember them and attribute those acts to other men whose thumbs we lived under. As a footnote to someone's else's success despite that success only happening because of us. I won't let my grandson be remembered as a footnote to YOUR legend. He'll always live under your shadow if he's not shown where his real potential lies." Slavenia answered him
"If you care so much about him fulfilling this destiny you believe he has, then why abandon him." Jorgensen asked him
"I did not abandon him!"' Slavenia yelled defensively
"I was in hiding. Even if I could somehow hide with two infants, what life would that be for them? I sent Travius with a Penitis Oculatus agent that I had leverage over and instructed him to take him to the orphanage. I sent his brother to the forsworn to replace a clan leaders stillborn in exchange for them keep my location in their lands a secret.
I intended to get him after the attention on me had died down, but it never really did. It wasn't until five years ago that The Empire removed my bounty, presuming me dead. I was wanted by the Vigilantes of Stendar until they were destroyed around that same time.
Even getting into The Imperial City would have been a death wish, much less dealing with the bureaucracy of the orphanage. I grew up in a manor in the shadow of a castle. I knew nothing of survival. I almost starved several times until I learned to hunt. Nearly died eating poisonous berries. They would have never made it past infancy with me."
"And what of his brother? Where is he?" Jorgensen demanded.
"He was raised by the Forsworn. I do not believe he is The Beacon, atleast I hope not. He's…broken." He answered.
"Where can I find him?" Jorgensen demanded again.
"I gave them my word to never speak of his lineage. I will not break my word, even to you Dragon." He responded
" Fair enough, but Why now? After all these years? He has a good life now. He's a Thane, he's attend college, he has a nice home, he's quite rich, and most importantly, hes happy. He's on a trajectory to become a Jarl. He has no need to have his life interrupted by Deadric interventions or a family who he never really had." Jorgensen asked
"I'm sure he is happy, lounging around with scholars during the day. Drinking and whoring with that Orc during the night. When they're not doing that they're brutally slaughtering outlaws. All pointless when he is meant for so much…"
"I'll have none of that!" Jorgensen shouted to interrupt him
"I will not have you belittle his accomplishments. He has made something amazing of himself despite the hardships your ambition caused him as a child.
I was a Vigilante of Stendar when this happened and we quit looking for you long before the Imperials did. We moved on and shifted our priorities as did they. Bounty or not. You're flattering yourself to assume you were so heavily wanted. You had plenty of opportunity to find him as a child, you knew his name and where he was taken.
You waste away as a lonely old man because you ruined the name of a once proud and respected family by making deals with Daedra to feed your ambitions. Then even worse you blame your own son for not doing your dirty work. I will not let you do the same to your Grandson. I'm telling you one time and one time only. Stay away from Him. Stay away from Winterhold." Jorgensen had enough and quickly stood up and headed towards the door.
"Who am I to deny what Boethia demands? He has a purpose with…"
"Yol! (Fire), Toor! (Inferno), Shul! (Sun)" Jorgensen shouted and sent a huge inferno of flame at Slavenia.
A short scream could be heard but abruptly ended as he crumbled into a pile of ash. Jorgensen's knees became weak as the reality of what just happened crept in. Of all the times he'd had to kill in battle, what he just did was outright murder.
The table had caught fire in the flames and Jorgensen found a dwarven oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. He knocked it down and sent to the oil to the ground. The rest of the shack went up in flames as he ran out of the door.