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"Are they really attempting to destroy the world?" Viconia was reading through one of the books with a combined look of interest and annoyance at trying to understand the jumbled ramblings written within it.
"In a way. They are trying to merge Oblivion with Mundus and allow Mehrunes Dagon to rule over whatever remains. Needless to say that no one will survive in any measurable capacity once this occurs. While it’s easy to dismiss all this as ramblings of the insane and of the usual run-of-the-mill daedra worshippers out of their minds, the Mythic Dawn is easily the most dangerous group of individuals in thousands of years."
He looked over the books again and motioned with a weary sigh. "The level of planning to undertake something like this is staggering and I doubt any group other than the Blades or even the Legion has the manpower or resources to pull this off. To supply every bookstore and market stall in the Empire with these copies, seeding them in such a way that the interested take it upon themselves to track down and eventually join the cult means that they have been doing this for decades. To create so many books means some form of printing operation or even series of printing presses, which then represents the fact that they were able to gather and stockpile the materials required like ink, parchment, vellum etc. There is quite possibly thousands of cultists throughout every province, a dozen or more in every city and so far they all have waited until now to strike. I’m not an expert chess player but I know that you don’t start to move your pieces until you are ready and have a damn good chance at winning."
Pausing for a moment he rubbed his eyes. "Right now they have us at check, and I think only because you two have gotten involved that they didn’t checkmate us."
"This Mankar Camoran sounds like a lunatic." Viconia muttered, still reading through the pages of one of the books.
"Oh he undoubtedly is, but it seems as though his madness has pushed through the barriers between it and genius. These books are his take and thoughts and translations of the Mysterium Xarxes. The Xarxes is a book written by Mehrunes Dagon himself and is one of the few Daedric Artefacts within the world. The power in that single book alone is unfathomable and both I and the rest of the Blades are certain that Camoran has it in his possession. This shows that he has significant favour with the Prince of Destruction that alone is enough cause to worry without the fact he has a literal army of crazies at his beck and call. They are willing to destroy entire cities to kill a single man, attack hidden locations of the Blades and sacrifice themselves if called on to do so. They are numerous, fanatical and have been preparing for all this for a very, very long time."
I looked at him seriously and found myself unconsciously running my fingers up Sunchild’s hilt. "What do you need us to do?"
A grin flickered over his face as he looked over to me. "I had planned on going to a meeting with "The Sponsor" and taking the place of one of the potential inductees after you arrived, but being followed by one of their members wasn’t part of the plan and has brought forward the schedule. We can’t afford to wait for a more opportune time otherwise they will begin to miss our late friend and most likely go to ground. I need you two to come with me to this meeting and watch my back. We need to get the fourth book no matter what and as I can’t go to the meeting armed without drawing suspicion so I’ll need you two to keep me alive."
I glanced at Viconia and saw her shrug before she closed her book with a snap. "Sounds easy enough I suppose."
Baurus seemed to have a physical weight lift from his shoulders. "Thank you both. I know this is all rushed but time is of the essence. The bad news is that the meeting place is in the sewers beneath the city. The good news is that I’ve managed to scout out most of the area and know it well enough that between the three of us this will work."
"When do we leave?"
His grin was savage, constricting itself into a familiar expression that I recognised from when he fought the assassins who killed the Emperor. "Right now."
Carefully lifting up a hatch in the floor Baurus revealed a tiny passage leading into the lower levels. With barely a nod he clambered down, grasping the iron rungs firmly and shimmying his way down the gap. Viconia and I followed shortly after, lowering ourselves with slightly more difficulty than what he did due to being armoured and a lot bulkier. What was obviously a method of a last ditch-escape or unseen exit into the city, the crawlspace led down three stories of iron rungs before finally opening up into a carved out hole where dirt and stones had been removed. An illusion enchantment blocked the space where the ancient Ayleid masonry had been broken to clear access into the sewers and catacombs beneath the city which immediately assailed us with their stench.
"Ugh," Viconia was less than displeased to find herself in the depths of tunnels filled with the excrement of a million souls. "Why do cults always seem to be so fascinated by proximity to shit?"
"Probably matches their personality’s." I remarked wryly. "Although I believe you can crawl into any dark hole in Tamriel and find some sort of nest of scum."
"Very true." Viconia seemed to glide through the shadows and never once seemed to put a foot out of place. "and the further you delve the closer you come to the Underdark."
We travelled through the darkness, guided by Baurus and the flickering light of the torch that he had lit as soon as he had reached the bottom of the rungs. This region under the city was unlike the older and less utilised catacombs where I had escaped during the Emperor’s assassination; it was much more heavily utilised by the teeming masses that had made the Imperial City home for the past millennia. Streams of effluent slowly shifted through the channels carved in the middle of the tunnels and we ensured that we moved around the open mouths of pipes where they disgorged even more waste into the mass. The chittering of rats and the signs of their nests were everywhere, some small and average in size and others leaving tracks that were considerably larger and matched the size of my own booted footprints. Dozens of other types of vermin and other unnameable creatures made these foul depths their home, feasting on each other and the mass that slowly made its way out into Lake Rumare through the hundreds of pipes and sewer exits dotted around the island.
Fleshy masses of polyps clung to the walls and ceiling and mutant varieties of crabs seemed to click and scuttle away from the burning torch as the light played across their white, twisted forms. Chittering calls of goblins echoed from the depths and corpses of animals, creatures, men and mer were common in various stages of decay. In such a place darker things seemed to lurk, hinting their existences through the dragging marks through the filth and twisted remains of their prey that were left behind. Stepping across a bridge across the stream I laid eyes on the bloated, rotting corpse of what appeared to be an Altmer bobbing and floating slowly in the steam of pollution. Its eyes were white and staring into nothingness but as my foot gently pressed into the stonework of the bridge it suddenly rolled and faced in my direction, mouth opening wide and reaching out with a rotted arm that snapped from the movement. Viconia’s wicked laugh at my sudden flailing reaction from the mostly-destroyed zombie was even more frightening than its appearance as it sank away into the depths.
Soon we came across some of the catacombs and long forgotten basements of buildings that hadn’t been used accessible to the surface in centuries. While a sight better than the stinking tunnels behind us there was no mistaking the decay and rot that seemed to permeate the masonry. Baurus seemed to steel us unerringly towards our destination, only stopping at certain crossroads in the tunnel network to briefly stare at the walls. Carefully watching wherever he looked I could see the tiny, fingernail sized marks that he had scratched there over the weeks previous. Unnoticeable except for those knowing what to look for they lead us ever deeper until we came across a solid wooden door reinforced by metal alongside a staircase leading up a level above us.
"Right then," he said, stopping before the door and whispering to Viconia and I in hushed tones. "Through this door there is a room with a table where those wishing to join the Mythic Dawn go to meet the Sponsor."
He motioned to the staircase to the left of the door where it faded into the darkness outside the pitiful amount of torchlight. "I happen to know that if you go up the stair there, you can get a vantage point on the meeting room. Like I said before, I’ll handle the meeting and you both will be my backup. Keep watch from the walkway up the stairs in case of trouble."
I shifted slightly on my feet, peering up into the darkness and pulling my cloak and hood tighter over my head and body. From where it was wrapped around my throat I lifted up the leather mask I had made for just these sorts of occasions until all that could be seen on my flesh was my eyes, top of my nose and the lower portion of my forehead. Viconia had taken similar precautions, pulling her hood tight over her head and ensuring that her white hair was tucked away from where light could reach it.
"You can count on us." I replied, my voice muffled now by the leather mask."
"Good. Now remember that we must not leave here without the book, it’s the only chance of finding their hideout and the Amulet." He signed heavily in an effort to calm his nerves. "I’m glad to have you two at my back."
Nodding to the two of us he stood near the door long enough the illuminate the stairs with the feeble light of his torch. As we reached the top of the stairs he turned, took a deep breath and pulled the door closed as he stepped through.
Viconia and I slid through the shadows, her upbringing in the depths of the world and my vampiric nature making a mockery of the difficulties of moving through the lightless catacombs and sewers. As the torch faded my sight suddenly seemed to shift, changing the deepest depths of inky blackness into a world of grey tones and shimmering life forces as rats, cockroaches and other unfathomable creatures shifted in the deep. I could see clearer than what I could in the middle of the day, and my other senses seemed to expand until I could hear the slightest of movements of insects burrowing through the ancient masonry and dirt surrounding us.
Behind the doors lay a room devoid of any ornamentation except for a single table no different from the hundreds scattered in every tavern and a pair of equally unremarkable chairs on either side. A tiny shuttered lantern sat in the centre of the table, its light barely able to hold back the gloom especially as Baurus doused his torch as he walked carefully over to it and sat down. The increased darkness allowed both Viconia and I to shift across the walkway, pressing into the walls and only those with similar sight as ourselves could ever hope to spy us lurking in the shadows.
For several minutes we waited, crouched and controlling our breathing so that we barely moved and made no sound at all. The darkness held no secrets for either of us, and I found myself counting the echoing drips of moisture from within the room as I watched Baurus sitting quietly in front of the table and it’s burning lantern. For a while it appeared as though we had come to these depths beneath the Imperial City for nothing, but after what felt to be an age footsteps began to echo from the doorway on the opposite side of the room from where we entered.
Slowly, the door opposite Baurus and closest to the vacant seat opened, a new glow of torchlight suddenly increasing the visibility. I found myself shrinking further into the shadows as they shifted and swayed in time with the bobbing lantern. Carefully and with an elven grace the new figure closed the door, briefly pausing to blow out the flickering flame inside the lantern it carried and moving over to the table and Baurus. Not a word was spoken as the being carefully sat down in the seat, looking across the table and steepling its fingers and leaning forward with elbows pressing into the table’s surface. Almost every inch of the figure was clothed in the same blood-red robes worn by the Emperor’s assassins, flowing and loose but only revealing the pale golden-tanned hands visible in the light. Even with my vampiric sight I could only see hints of the face under the hood, the tiny glints of eyes briefly visible as they studied Baurus in a burning intensity.
"So," the figure said at last, the voice deep but strangely musical like all elfkind. "You want to become one of the Chosen of Mehrunes Dagon."
It was a statement rather than a questions, and Baurus sat still, staring at the figure and not even twitching to show the nerves that he would have to have been feeling.
"The Path is difficult, but the rewards are great." The Figure continued, the door opening again at an unspoken command and a second figure appeared, similarly robed and hooded but carrying a box in its hands. The box was flat and wide but the lid was open, revealing a velvet interior containing a single leather bound book within.
"I have the book you seek. With it and the Master’s three other books you will possess the key to enlightenment. But do you have the wit and strength to use the key you have been given? If so, I will see you next at Dagon’s Shrine..."
The soft scuttling sound of movement snatched at my attention and I found myself staring at the other door on the opposite side of the walkway. Viconia had hidden herself in the shadows but as I turned and glanced around, ignoring the "Sponsor’s" words to Baurus I realised with a start that I could not see or find where Viconia was hiding. More effectively than a potion of Invisibility she had seemingly disappeared and for a moment I panicked, glancing about only to watch as the far door opened. Another pair of robed cultists had appeared, both carrying lanterns and illuminating me as surely as I was carrying one myself as they entered the room on the walkway.
For several seconds we stared at each other, the looks of confusion mirroring each other’s faces even as they struggled to comprehend my humanoid shadow pressed into the wall. All that was visible were my eyes, the rest was swallowed up under the grey-black cloak wrapped securely around my shoulders and making it nearly impossible to discern what was underneath. The moment of surprise was snuffed like a blown out candle, and they both moved with startling swiftness, spitting their words of conjuration and summoning their daedric weapons and equipment from the ruinous depths of Oblivion.
Neither of them got the chance to finish however. Like a malignant spider crouched and awaiting prey, Viconia dropped from the ceiling where she had been hanging precariously with her hands and feet pressed into whatever grooves and cracks allowed purchase. Neither one of the robed acolytes of Mehrunes Dagon knew or realised the threat until the one standing at the rear was suddenly crushed under the full weight of Viconia’s armoured body. with as much force as she could gather she dropped onto his chest and spine with both armoured boots driving into the cultist. Sickening cracks were audible over the sudden pained cry and breathless grunts as the air was driven out of him but within a second it was over, a dagger flashing in the darkness and reappearing sheathed in crimson.
As he prepared to charge me, the second cultist didn’t fare any better, suddenly trapped between two foes and unable to even attempt turning around. Before he could react he too was thrown forward, slamming chest and face first into the moist, damp stones with the weight of a Drow bearing down on him. A strangulated scream echoed through the room and the catacombs, his half-formed armour dissolving into nothing as Viconia stabbed him in the throat and began sawing away with her blade.
The others for their credit exploded into action, the seated Sponsor kicking back in his seat and leaping to his feet with suspicious ease while his colleague stood frozen to the spot in surprise. Baurus transformed from a seemingly harmless nobody into a precise and powerful fighter, hurling the table with a kick at the cultists even as he rolled over backwards on his chair with the ease of an acrobat. He rose to his feet, a dagger appearing in his hand but now faced with the rapidly armouring forms of a pair of angry cultists there was little that he could hope to accomplish, Member of the Blades or not. The two moved quickly, the Sponsor swinging a daedric blade the length of my arm with an unusual amount of proficiency, and his fellow cultist slammed the lid on the box shut, before backing away towards the door as quickly as he could.
Baurus picked up his chair and lashed it out in front of him, swinging it by a leg even as it was smashed into kindling by a swing of the serrated daedric sword. He was moving away from the black and red clad cultist now who seemed hell-bent on eviscerating him on the gleaming edge, while wielding a dagger no larger than the one I used to skin and gut rabbits. It was far from an even fight as the cultist began swinging with gusto, but it didn’t remain that way for long.
I fell off the edge of the balcony and tucking myself into a ball as I landed I rolled to my feet in a single smooth motion. The two surviving cultists on the lower level were now focussed on killing Baurus and escaping with the book respectively. They were not paying attention to anything else in the room and this lack of awareness cost them dearly.
A wet smack echoed over the sounds of the scuffle as a blood-wet ball of hair and skin hit the cultist carrying the book right in the face, staggering him with the force of the blow. From her position on the walkway Viconia had hurled the severed head of the second cultist she had ambushed at his colleague trying to escape. He tripped and fell, now covered with the fresh arterial blood and finding himself staring at the twitching features of his fellow cultist as the life finally faded from his eyes. The Sponsor, still attempting to slaughter Baurus suddenly found himself faced with me instead as I parried his sword with the gleaming edge of Sunchild.
Within a heartbeat we were trading blows, the unnatural edge of his daedric blade sparking off the flawless metal of my Ayleid sword. We twisted, ducked, weaved and sliced and although he was a swordsman of considerable skill he was nothing in comparison to those I had faced for the past month at Cloud Ruler. His footwork was imprecise, his motions telegraphed his every move and my vampiric strength and speed allowed me to quickly gain the upper hand. Within a dozen of strikes and parries he faltered, having his blade turned aside by a single twist of my wrist and leaving him wide open for my riposte. There was little more than a grunt from him as the tip of Sunchild pieced through the black substance of his breastplate, scraping first on the metal and then on his ribs before cutting deeply into his heart.
Behind him the last surviving cultist died at Viconia’s hand. Shrieking horribly, he was brutally and almost sadistically disembowelled by the Dark Elf. She stabbed him in the guts with Dragonbane before tearing it out of him in a wash of blood and viscera, stepping aside from the sudden spray of gore. His scream was drawn out and painful as he died, falling to his knees keening as he attempted and failed to simultaneously scoop up and hold in his slithering innards.
Baurus seemed to pale at the sight of Viconia standing over her helpless victim as he died and armour sloughed away from his skin until only a pitiful corpse dressed in ruined robes was left behind. The whole time she stood over him, a blank expression on her face and watching with interest as he went about dying messily.
"That could have gone better." Baurus finally said as he managed to gulp down his unease at Viconia’s actions and the screams of the cultist finally stopped echoing. "I wasn’t expecting to have some many of them come here at once."
"They must’ve been expecting trouble." I replied, watching as he carefully stepped around the growing pool of gore that creeped over the ancient stonework. The case containing the book had fallen to the floor but had remained undamaged except for the few splatters of blood across its cover "But we have the book and that’s all that matters."
"What now?" Viconia said, stepping through the pooling blood with little heed to the splashes of the liquid over her boots.
"Now I take this to Tar-Meena and we hopefully find where these bastards are hiding. It could be some time though before she manages to translate the four books together."
I shrugged, wiping Sunchild clean on the Sponsor’s robes and noting the long boned face of the Altmer under the hood. "We have no plans for the next few days."
"Good. Keep checking in at the Boarding house but otherwise feel free to wander about the city however you like. There’s no telling how long it will take before Tar-Meena manages to work her way through all this."
We made our way out of the sewers by a different route, emerging from one of the dozens of various storm drains and hatchways scattered throughout the city. Smelling of effluent and bodily fluids we surprisingly didn’t turn any eyes or draw attention to ourselves. Baurus had purposely led us out of one of the exits just outside the north wall where the majority of leather workshops were located and where we found ourselves almost wishing to be back in the sewers. It was here that some of the primary sewer exits could be found and the city’s fellmongers and tanners utilised the streams of waste to their advantage for the process of curing the hundreds of hides that found their way to their shops every day. As a trio of filthy but armed individuals emerging from the sewer, we appeared as though we were one of the many parties fulfilling contracts to cull the creatures of the undercity.
Complaining bitterly, both Viconia and I returned to the Boarding house as Baurus took the book directly to the Arcane University. Along the way, every person downwind of us provided a clear berth no matter how thickly the crowds pressed around us. Viconia especially complained every step of the way, cursing in Drow and common and glaring at anyone who even thought about looking in her direction. Luther himself didn’t even bat an eyelid at our appearances as we pushed our way inside, and our dark expressions ensured that none of the patrons raised any voice of complaint as we strode past them before disappearing into the various washrooms.
Stripping ourselves of everything we wore, our clothing was handed off to a pair of young running boys that Luther sent in our direction. With a promise of a gold septim each, they immediately sped away to the launderers. Our armour was set aside in pieces and for the first few hours of the evening both of us went through the laborious duty of scouring, wiping and polishing every piece. Carefully not just removing the coatings of filth and blood and their smells but also ensuring that rust and decay wouldn’t begin to creep in. Both of us worked alone, sitting on adjacent tables and barely talking to one another as we concentrated on ensuring that every centimetre of our protection was maintained while eating our evening meals.
Baurus returned shortly after the tenth bell, just as the raucous activity within the dining hall began to grow as liquor began to flow more freely. He had met with the Argonian researcher, had provided her with our retrieved copy of the fourth book and he promised that she would send word as soon as she discovered anything. It would be some time though before anything could be made of the book’s writings so for the coming days we were free to do as we pleased.
As the three of us retired for the evening I found myself restless and sleep proved elusive. The thirst had been building steadily for days and after that evening events I knew that there was no more suppressing it. I knew that I was losing the battle against the darkness, the lack of emotion I had felt as I casually watched Viconia slay the cultists in the tunnels was almost more horrifying to me than the blood-urge. Even as that same urge made me rise, dress myself in my freshly washed and scrubbed clothes and fade into the night like a whisper I couldn’t help feeling the scream of desperation from the man that I once echo through the depths of my subconscious. It was enough that the question of my sanity made me challenge the notion of whether I had any remaining as I stalked my way through the darkened streets for suitable prey.
The rising orbs of Masser and Secunda, and the dozens of lit lanterns and lamps lining the streets did nothing to reveal my presence as the vampire rose to the surface. My flesh twisted and tightened, fangs sliding out of my jaw and gums as my visage turned into one of a predator of the night. The darkened streets and alleyways were throbbing with life, the pulsating sources of lifeblood clouding my vision as I slunk down an alleyway, barely even seeing the hooded figure step around the corner and confront me with a knife glinting in the gloom. There was a moment of panic from the figure as the would-be murderer realised that his mark was not as lost and nowhere nearly as defenceless as he had initially believed. Before he could even finish following through with the stab meant to skewer my heart I had already slammed him into the wall. Twisting the knife out of his grasp with a savage jerk I bit into his throat with enough force that a bloody glob of flesh was stuck between my teeth. Almost utterly drained, I disposed of the corpse in a nearby garden but not before sawing away at the neck to obscure the jagged holes where my fangs had punctured his jugular.
With midnight truly passed I returned to the Boarding house, clambering up the wall like a spider and slipping inside without any of those within realising I had even left my room at all. To those still occupying the dining hall and Viconia in the adjacent room there was nothing to suggest that I had done anything other than collapse into my bed. Finally crawling into the collection of furs and crushed straw I slept well past the hour where breakfasts were cooked in the thousands of homes and businesses throughout the city.
Viconia and I found ourselves with little to do during the daylight hours, so used to the monotony of traveling through the wilds or the regimented schedule of the Blades we grew weary with remaining in the boarding house. Instead we found ourselves strolling the streets together, aimlessly wandering and doing little more than taking in the sights of the greatest city in Tamriel.
As we made our way through the different districts I found myself increasing amused at Viconia’s expression of astonishment and almost child-like marvel at the city she had found herself in. Despite her obvious unease of such crowds she was staring and studying everything, looking around at anything that caught her eye and was soon asking me questions with an unquenchable curiosity.
"So none of the other cities are like this?" She said as we made our way through the interior gates into the Arena district.
"Not comparably within Tamriel. There is nothing like this place anywhere that I know of, and especially not as large or with so many people living in it."
"It is crowded to say the least." She pushed her way through a pair of expensively dressed women of some noble house I didn’t recognise. Their expressions were both indignant and haughty as they glanced over the shoddy clothing that Viconia wore, and the obvious beauty underneath that even rags couldn’t hide. She returned their stares with one of such intensity that they both paled and scuttled away into the crowd. "You could place the entirety of Menzoberranzan into just one of this city’s districts and still be left with space. As for the population? It would be swallowed up in this mass as though you had simply spat into the lake."
"Is Menzoberranzan your home?" I asked, feeling somewhat proud of myself at getting the pronunciation right the first time.
"I have no home, but I once did consider that city to be one." For a moment an expression of sadness washed over her before her eyes hardened into diamonds once more.
"What was it like?"
"Nothing like this." She waved her hands at everything around us, especially towards the towering heights of White Gold Tower. "It was smaller, more packed and much, much more deadly to live in."
"If your skills are testament to how dangerous it was to live there then I can easily believe that."
"It was, and I don’t think I can ever understand how so many can live in such proximity and yet have so little death. Menzoberranzan had maybe a third of the population of Bruma, or even Kvatch. Even so, most of those were slaves."
"My world is nothing like this, and I could hardly ever believe something like this was even possible, let alone imagine what it could look like. Sure, there are Drow cities that can rival the size and majesty of surface cities but if you had appeared in the Underdark and told me that such a place like this existed then I would have dragged out your tongue and butchered you lest your insanity was contagious."
"Don’t the Drow build cities?"
She scowled for a moment, stepping around a small huddle of punters as they shouted and placed bets on upcoming fights and duels within the Arena. The towering walls of the circular structure cast us into shadow as we walked around it, hearing the blood thirsty roars of the thousands crammed into the tiered seats within. "The Drow are not like surfacers. We do not dream or build or imagine anything other than death to our foes and the accumulation of power. Where you all seem to step forward willingly into the unknown, the Drow turn their backs to the mists of discovery, and our feet are planted deep into the stone. We are stagnant, unwilling to move or shift and now that I have seen such things with my own eyes I can see how Lloth’s influence poisons us to keep us this way."
I paused for a moment and looked at her at the sudden overwhelming vehemence that left her shaking in a mixture of anger and fear. "Lloth?"
"The Dark Mother, the Queen of Spiders, and the Lady of Chaos. She and she alone controls all the Drow and none can oppose her might."
"You make her sound like a god more than a ruler."
"That’s because she is." She looked at me quizzically at my expression. "What? Not all gods are like your Nine, remaining unseen, unheard, and insubstantial as mist. Some stride the world in their physical forms and are all the more terrible for it. But especially now that I am here, I question her teachings even more than I did before."
"Do all the Drow worship her?"
"Most do, there are others but she outlaws them. Her teachings however are that only those who survive are strong. My world is a brutal one and the weak are culled. Power is only grabbed by those with the strength to do so and those who cannot do not live for very long. While I now know that I have always doubted the system that my kind live, I can see the flaws in their unquestioning belief."
She spread her arms wide, again motioning to everything around us and shrugging her shoulders at the sight of hundreds of metres of towering white masonry spearing the heavens above us. "How can I account for all this? The Drow are strong, the weak are destroyed and only those fit to rule do so, we don’t have gods of Knowledge, or Crafts and Trade. There is no space for trade, commerce or innovation. Love and trust are for the dead or the insane but yet, here I stand staring into something that for all rights should not exist."
"So you obviously don’t believe in her anymore."
"Don’t let your ak’nen be filled with shu, Jaluk..." She spat forcibly. "I have not been her follower for some time, possibly even when I served as a priestess."
She stopped, suddenly realising that she had said more than she had wished to reveal and clenching her jaw. For a while I believed that she wasn’t going to say anything further, but with visible effort she forced herself to relax as we rounded the Arena into a small area of gardens. "I serve the Nightsinger now, and only she and she alone will have my fealty."
"I’ve heard you speak of her before."
"That you have. Shar kept me alive on the surface and while I still breathe I will serve her. She is the Goddess of Darkness and through her graces she provides her faithful with luck, and the knowledge to face down their foes. It is with her patronage that I hope to survive long enough to spit in Lloth’s eyes."
For a while I walked alongside her, absorbing the revelations and feeling a strange feeling of realisation that grew stronger until it exploded behind my eyes. "Wait, is she also a goddess of mysteries and secrets?" I suddenly spluttered.
Viconia’s eyes narrowed and she stopped in place, staring at me and making me suddenly feel very nervous. "Yes... How do you know that?"
"Unless there’s a ridiculous coincidence then the goddess you know as Shar in the Underdark, we on the surface know as Nocturnal."
"I don’t see your point."
I wet my lips with the tip of my tongue, looking about as the crowds to see if anyone was listening too intently to our conversation. "Nocturnal is one of the Daedric Princes, and after all we have gone through recently you might understand how that mightn’t be a good thing to have others knowing."
She grinned slightly, but the expression did little to make me feel calmer. "I can see how that can be a problem. And that’s if they are the same. There are so many gods and goddesses and minor deities in the world that while it is possible, they could be entirely different. Is this a problem for you?"
For a moment I wasn’t sure, before I briefly shrugged and tried to avoid her gaze. "Not really. I’m not one for believing in the gods, and at this point I couldn’t really care what you believe in as long as it isn’t involving the end of the world."
I grinned for a second. "and as long as your belief doesn’t involve me being sacrificed in any way."
"I wouldn’t worry about that Jaluk. I haven’t performed any rituals since coming here and I’d have to find a more suitable candidate that your pitiful self anyway."
"Was that a joke?" her expression may have been her usual stony mask but there was a hint of an amused twinkle in her eye as she regarded my bewilderment.
"That’s for me to know and you to find out." She replied cryptically. "In the meantime though, you can show me more of the wonders of this world."
We continued our way through the city, walking casually and chatting idly as we did so. What felt like a strange date if only in name, I showed her around the few portions of the city that I was familiar with. The first years within the legion were mostly spent within the Legion Fortress that took up the majority of the surface buildings of the Imperial Prison Complex. My time within the training cohorts for the first two years had been limited for time spent within the city proper to reduce the chance of desertions or unrest caused by fresh, rowdy recruits spilling into every brothel and taphouse available. We made our way through the Arena District, managing to make our way inside for a handful of bouts and satisfy not only Viconia’s curiosity but also her bloodlust at the sight of the reigning champion eviscerating a pair of opponents with ridiculous ease.
Afterwards we found ourselves in the sights and colourful maze of the Market District, and I watched Viconia’s expression closely as she marvelled at the riot of colours, goods, items and individuals making their way through the press. Perfumed and silk wearing nobles strode about, each more and more gaudy than the last and jugglers, fire breathers and other assorted entertainers practiced their crafts to the amusement of the hundreds walking between the market stalls. Somewhere I had managed to procure a few choice pieces of food, munching away on a long string of taffy as Viconia voraciously devoured a Sweet Roll with all the grace of a starved Argonian. Within minutes she had managed to acquire a collection of various treats and snacks from the stands where their freshly made goods were on display before wolfing them down one after another with obvious pleasure.
Everything was new and alien to her and she was slowly beginning to realise that the lightless realm of the Underdark had left her devoid of experiences that she now found herself practically drowning in. We entered theatres, strolled through Green Emperor Way and entered each of the chapels of the Nine within the Temple Quarter. Even the enormous Temple of the One we found ourselves inside and Viconia wandered around the interior, studying the carvings in the marble and looking over the enormous unlit brazier. With a voice filled with awe she simply stated that the entirety of Menzoberranzan’s house of worship dedicated to Lloth could fit inside with no hindrance, before leaving with her curiosity sated.
From place to place, and street to street she was soon leading me on in her overwhelming desire to know and experience all that she could during the short stay within the City. For the better part of three days we roamed and explored, our collection of coins noticeably dwindling as she sampled anything and everything that she locked eyes on. For the first time since meeting her she was relaxed somewhat and no longer as highly strung as a lute string. The change was incredible to behold, turning the beautiful, but deadly Drow into a creature of pure radiance that eclipsed all around her with her vibrant intensity. The darkness clouding her soul remained however, and she remained quick to slight and to anger, venting her frustration openly and viciously at the first hint of it appearing in her yellow eyes.
But otherwise the days and evenings were uneventful, and by the third day we were both talking freely compared to the days and weeks since meeting at Bruma. As night began to fall we found ourselves back within the Boarding house once more, seated at one of the dozens of tables and talking about everything we could think of. I told her of my time in the legion, the patrolling of the ashlands and the various tribes vying for independence and the way they lived. She absorbed all that I told her, listening intently and asking questions about everything from the rites the ashlanders and dunmer practiced around death, what they ate and drank, what equipment they used, gods they believed in, the Corpus diseases and the monstrosities that it created. With great detail I described great battles of the Legion from throughout history, the tactics used, the equipment utilised in regions like Blackmarsh, describing everything from the correct use of a bow to how the Dunmer brewed their beers and other alcohols.
She regaled me on stories of her home in the Underdark, the petty houses, city-states and the overall matriarchal authority of the Drow’s society. She spoke about the culture, the civilisation built upon the backs of the hundreds of thousands of slaves toiling in the depths of the world and the blood that was constantly spilled by the whims of a spider goddess. Tales of blood and death that seemed oddly enough to match those of mine of years in Northern Vvardenfell were shared and she told me of the beasts and inhabitants of her world. The horrific mind-flaying Illithids, the grim, cynical Duergar, the untrustworthy kuo-toa and the great beasts of the dark. Her tales of the great wyrms of the depths were met with a little scepticism despite my knowledge of the long extinct dragons of the north, but I was highly interested in her stories of ancient, long abandoned cities in the highest caverns and tunnels. While never seeing them for herself she had heard stories of cities and structures of pipes and cogs, pistons and steam in the upper levels that could only be reached through journeys several days long through some of the most treacherous of terrains. I had little doubt that she spoke of the long since vanished dwemer but her tales of what lengths had to be undertaken just to reach such places allowed me to gain some understanding how our worlds had remained apart.

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