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The commander of this cohort was barely old enough to shave, a face heavily scarred with acne and eyes wide and white with fear. As the lesser son of a local noble he would’ve been pressed into the service of the guard rather than entering the Legion where death was a much higher prospect. Now, he seemed to have been fated to lead the defence of an entire city against the baying hordes of Oblivion. The appearance of the entirety of the Fighters guild had bolstered his and his guards’ fighting spirits but it was still exceedingly close to the breaking point.
"Commander." Azzan said simply, striding over to the young man who was visibly trembling. The plate armoured form of the leader of the Fighters guild dwarfed him with his bulk and the teenager wilted in his presence.
"Thank the gods you have come!" he stammered, the leaf shaped gladius in his hand shaking as he tried to sheath it unsuccessfully and nearly gashing his hand open in the process. "There seems to be so many outside the walls and it’s only a matter of time before they get in!"
With the enormous lead filled head of the Warhammer over a shoulder Azzan raised his spare hand. "Woah, calm down. Everything’s going to be fine. The guild and I are here to help and we’re not going to let even one of these arse sucking fiends get past us."
"How can you be so sure?"
Again Azzan grinned fiercely in the opened helm. "We have the Heroes of Kvatch with us."
The young guard commander followed the direction where Azzan had thrown a plated thumb, and soon Viconia and I found ourselves the centre of a sea of stupefied expressions from the huddled guards. Snatched whispers of shock and awe reached my ears over the cacophony of screams, bells and roars of the unnatural and once again I felt incredibly awkward at the recognition.
"The Nine be praised." The commander stammered, stepping forward and shaking our hands in a display of reverence that was only made stranger by the situation we were in.
"How many men do you have?" I asked him simply, and he looked me in the eyes while bobbing his head relentlessly.
"I’m not sure. Maybe a hundred?"
"Any of them experienced in formations?" his head shook, causing a small amount of his coif to slip down in front of his eyes and I swore under my breath.
Briefly glancing over to Azzan he simply shrugged and smiled grimly. Both of us were becoming more and more concerned with the situation, especially how both of us could now clearly hear the screeching of metal emanating from the outer section of the gatehouse.
"Well then." I stared at Azzan for a moment and raised an eyebrow.
"I’ll leave this to you I think." The smile on his face was returning to the savage expression of bloodlust. "I’ll lead the guild but I think you and Viconia might be better suited for the rest."
"Great. Thanks a lot." My reply forced a harsh bark of amusement from the Redguard Fighter but I knew that Viconia’s and my reputations would count for far more than his rank and position.
Turning around I gazed across the collection of guards scattered before the gates, feeling a greater fear than I had ever experienced before at the sudden weight of responsibility. While somewhat used to command in the Legion, my rank of Praefect had ensured that I had never commanded more than squad of foresters. Suddenly faced with leading over ten times that number of ill-trained, inexperienced guards against the hordes of Oblivion did little for my confidence.
"Soldiers of Anvil!" I roared, feeling every set of eyes turn and lock onto me with feverish intensity.
Gesturing to myself and Viconia standing by my side with a grimace on her high boned features, I stood straight backed and tall. With a shiver of nostalgia, I suddenly found myself feeling as though I stood on the snowy training field of Fort Ironhand, looking over the latest batch of fresh-faced recruits.
"I am Kaius Desin, and this is Viconia DeVir! You would have heard of us and know that we have faced this darkness before! This foe, this terrible enemy can be beaten! It can be defeated! We are proof of that, but we will need your help!"
I had the attention of all the guards, fighters, members of the local Mages guild and even a small number of civilians who had come to help where all others had run. They were all beginning to cluster together in a small force that looked pitifully weak to my eyes, but represented possibly the only thing standing between Anvil and its utter destruction.
"Together we need to stand against this daedric foe! You and those beside you are all that stands between Anvil becoming another Kvatch! Think of your families, your friends, your neighbours! They are relying on you to stand and fight! To hold the line and ensure that not one of these horrors gets by you!"
With a scrape of metal on leather I drew Sunchild and held it high enough that all those before me could see its shining edge. "While I still breathe the city will not fall! Let these bastards come! We will teach them and their foul master that mortals will not lay down and die!"
The mood was swelling slightly, confidence finding precarious holds on each fearful heart and allowing them to steel themselves somewhat against the coming storm of metal and death. I began barking orders, ordering the shuffling masses of citizens and soldiery into something resembling a rough formation. Those equipped with shields locked themselves into the first rank, the pointed kite shields bearing the Anvil County heraldry meshing together with those belonging to Fighters guild in their own riot of shapes, colours and designs. Swords, military picks, maces, truncheons, cleavers, flails and hammers made up the first rank while the second bristled in an array of pikes, halberds and billhooks in their vicious means of cleaving and piercing. Fewer in number, a handful of mages intermingled with those equipped with bows and crossbows, standing behind the dangerously thin ranks of guards and fighters as they too prepared to do their part in the coming battle.
Viconia sidled up alongside me, close enough to reach out and touch but standing deathly still with Dragonbane unsheathed and ready. "I hope you realise that as soon as the battle looks lost I’m getting out of here." She muttered, quietly enough that only I could hear.
My face was impassive like a stone mask. "Trust me, if this goes to shit I’m going to be right beside you."
Becoming loud enough to be heard by mortal ears, the sounds within the gatehouse were growing in volume and were able to be discerned by everyone surrounding the towering doors. I could hear the crack-thump of crossbows and the heavier slaps of siege arbalests from within the gatehouse intermingling with the hissing of oil being dumped through the murderholes. Too soon to have been boiled to flesh scalding temperatures, the oil was being used in a more direct purpose. The building level of heat could be felt through the thick oaken doors as the oil was set alight on whatever was attempting to breach the gates.
"Just how sturdy are those doors?" I muttered to Azzan, who like Viconia and I stood a handful of paces in front of the trembling ranks of terrified guards.
Another ground shaking impact rocked the gates, shaking years of dirt and rust from the metal supports holding them all together. Azzan shared a glance with us before slapping his visor down, leaving his voice muted and strangely metallic. "Sixty centimetres of solid oak reinforced with steel?"
I cursed, rolling my shoulders as the pounding increased in tempo and ferocity. "That’s what I thought."
In the space of a few minutes while we had gathered before the gates, the daedra had somehow managed to batter their way through the outer doors and the two metal portcullises. With the fourth and last portion of the gatehouse remaining we all watched in growing trepidation as the wood of the interior doors began splintering, the metal structural supports bending inwards from the impacts. The daedric roars emanating from within the gatehouse were swelling in volume, the level of unmatched bloodlust from the creatures from Oblivion increasing and terrifying all of us with the savage intent.
Each impact that shook the gates caused the handful of Guards in the shield wall to shy away from the danger, and I found myself stomping back and forth along the thin ranks, bellowing for the men and women to stand firm. I couldn’t help but feel pity for those standing at my back, but at that point it time I was somehow feeling disgust at their cowardice. The skin of my face was tightening and with the increasing hold of the vampire on my mind I could feel the hatred of such petty emotions such as fear grow. Where I should’ve been gibbering and trembling in the face of my potential death, instead my mind was clear and cold, my heart barely even increasing its beat as all concern, unease and terror simply sloughed away.
Buckling inwards, the gates gave way with a crash, chunks of wood and bent metal splattering onto the flagstones like hail as the daedra began pushing through. The cries of terror from behind was not lost to me, as even the vampire within my soul was taken aback at the sight of such creatures shouldering their way through the ruined gates.
Half as tall again as myself, the creatures seemed to be somewhat small to be capable of the damage they were wreaking. Their scaled hides seemed impervious to the hail of crossbow bolts and the burning flood of oil coating the interior of the gatehouse. Roaring and growling they ripped into the wooden planks and shattered it in an unthinking frenzy to open the way into the heart of the city. Like hunchbacked crocodilians, hands twisted into parodies of men with talons as long as shortswords they forced their way through the collapsing gates, revealing the sight of a gatehouse sheeted in flame and filled with the baying multitudes of Oblivion.
The enormous daedroth spread fear through the ranks of the defenders, the cries of alarm and gut-wrenching terror audible over the constant tolling of bells and the bellows of the scaled creatures. A handful of arrows and bolts snapped through the air from plucked bowstrings and nervous trigger fingers, but for the most part they simply twanged away or splintered on the thick hide of the daedric siege-beasts. Some lodged deep into their scaly bellies or the softer portions of their leathery jowls and the morale of the defenders was now hanging by a thread.
Crackling with ethereal energies Viconia roared and hurled a stone-scorching blast of lightning into the face of one of the daedroth, causing it to shriek and groan with the impact. Spitting a mixture of drowish curses and incantations she threw bolt after bolt of magicka at the brutes, slowing them and their advance long enough for me to realise that if they reached the shieldwall the guards would shatter and flee.
Roaring my own guttural battle cry that was incoherent and meaningless I threw myself forward, once again shuddering internally at how cold and unfeeling I was with the vampire’s influence. Against a horde coughed forth from the darkest depths of oblivion I should have felt some form of fear but instead I found myself almost relishing the challenge of slaying such creatures.
A swipe of its enormous talons missed me by centimetres and Sunchild lashed out and grazed its palm, causing it to retract in pain and roar its displeasure at the minor wound. The beady reptilian eyes of the daedroth narrowed onto me as I dodged its clumsy attacks, feeling the wind from the blows buffering me but strangely enough I didn’t find myself concerned with its presence. After facing down the raw speed and stone pulverising strength of a minotaur lord, fighting a daedric reptile only a metre taller than myself seemed somewhat insignificant.
It was proving far more resilient than the minotaur lord as its unnatural nature combined with the ebony like toughness of its hide ensured that most of my blows merely glanced off. For the moment at least it was being held back, blocking the hole in the ruined gates with its bulk while Azzan, Viconia and a handful of the other fighters and some of the mages assisted us. Standing tall over the shorter members of the city Guard, the black and silver robed Altmer who led the local Mages Guild strode forward with shimmers of light erupting from her fingers and eyes as she weaved intricate patterns in the air. Her skill was more focussed than Viconia’s and infinitely subtler as her robes revealed her ability and rank a master illusionist. Despite lacking the raw destructive potential of most battle wizards, her abilities were no less effective.
Several times I rolled and dived aside to its powerful attacks, once feeling the pattering of stone chunks across my face and armour as it’s claws dug enormous furrows through the road with horrifying ease. The magicka and the spells the Wizard cast were soon making themselves felt and not just in the building tension headache in the back of my skull. Every few moments the creature would stop in place, the powerful paralytic spells locking its limbs and allowing me a second or more to stab and hack almost fruitlessly against its armoured hide. Other times it would stop, blinking confusedly after its eyes rolled into the back of its skull from a blinding spell or resisting the encroaching will of the Mage as she attempted to gain control over the beast.
The scales of the daedroth were impenetrable to direct attacks but with my increasing speed and agility I was beginning to get the upper hand with the magical assistance from the Mage. Overlapping and twisting with every movement the impervious nature of the scales was soon defeated as I began stabbing and slicing up and under them. Hunks of flesh soon hung from its frame, daedric gore spraying the ground and in a movement born of hubris and all too much showmanship I leapt upon its back. In doing so I was suddenly revealed to all the defenders as I rode its shoulders for a handful of pounding heartbeats, swaying aside from its groping claws as it shook and twisted in its attempts to dislodge me. Gripping onto a spiny protrusion I hauled myself up, relying on my vampiric grace for a moment as I twisted Sunchild, holding the hilt firmly with both hands and spearing it between a set of overlapping scales on the back of the skull.
Twitching, the daedroth smashed face first into the ruined cobblestones, Sunchild buried to the hilt in its tiny reptilian brain and leaving the crowd of onlookers astonished as I rose to my feet. The second creature had already been brought low by a combination of Viconia’s prowess with a blade, the magical assault of a handful of Mages and Azzan’s bone shattering hammer. Roaring with pain and anger the second daedroth had dropped to its knees as Azzan’s Warhammer ignored its impenetrable hide to shatter the bones of its legs into powder. A short stab of Dragonbane into its open gullet and through the roof of its enormous jaws and it had died as quickly as mine, leaving the hundred plus force of defenders staring in shock at how relatively simple we had cut the siege-beasts down.
"Forward!" I roared, standing on top of the daedroth’s armoured skull and thrusting my blood streaked sword toward the shattered gatehouse. The flames from the burning oil were dying now and was instead being filled with wall-to-wall daedra flesh. Scamps, the frilled lizards that I now knew as Clannfear and the usual assortment of dremora pushed forward through the last of the flames, stomping over the bodies of the fallen in the narrow passage with impunity. Rocks and crossbow bolts rained down through the arrow slits and murder holes in the roof, breaking bones, shattering skulls and impaling throats and faces with barbed tips.
The daedric press was struggling to advance through the piling dead of their kin. Corpses made slippery with gore were crushed underfoot and tripped many in the press and now they were faced with a wall of steel and blades that were no longer as terrified as they were minutes ago.
Strengthened at the sight of such terrifying creatures being brought low the guards and citizens of Anvil pushed forward, scraping their shields across the ground, thrusting forward with their polearms and firing crossbows at point blank range over the shoulders of the front ranks. Daedra died by the score as they tripped and slithered in the dead and wounded. Heads were cleaved, skulls crushed and limbs severed and despite the lack of training and ability the men and women of Anvil gave good accounts of themselves. In the suffocating confines of the gatehouse the guards, fighters, mages and ordinary citizens slaughtered and relieved all the fear, stress and horror of the previous weeks into the snarled visages of daedric horrors. All the hatred and sorrow that they had felt over the weeks since the destruction of Kvatch and the desecration of the Cathedral was now fuelling their limbs and lending strength to their hearts.
I fought slightly ahead of the amateur shieldwall, hacking and slicing my way through flesh and armour that was pathetically easier than the toughened hide of the daedroths. Viconia, Azzan, and a handful of Mages and Fighters led the way alongside me through the hordes attempting to gain entrance. It was not long until we began fighting into the gatehouse itself like a group of swimmers fighting their way against the current. The mages were of the greatest of assistance as the more powerful of their number unleashed every ability at their disposal. Between the guild head’s ability with illusion magicka and one of her learned colleagues ability in the arts of conjuration, they confounded, paralysed, and turned daedra against each other or otherwise banished them and their corpses back to Oblivion. The creatures had to struggle over the mounds of their dead and dying kin, while the wizards and mages at our backs ensured that we simply strode across flagstones that were free of bodies. It was a potent combination that allowed the small number of us to counter attack through the gates and beyond the curtain walls.
The fight didn’t go entirely all in our favour. Causalities were still high and every time I turned my head some member of the guild or the city guard was crippled or killed. I caught sight of one of the sword wielding guards being dragged from his place in the shieldwall, shrieking as a fanged clannfear flensed the skin from his face as it pulled him from the grasping hands of his comrades. Lost to the horde the man took a long time dying as we fought through to reach him but was too late to stop the creatures from worrying the flesh from his bones. Several defenders dropped shrieking as daedric blades chopped into flesh or maces shattered bones. Some were eviscerated by claws or teeth, others burned horribly from fireball hurling scamps or were simply pulled down into the morass of demons and ripped from limb to limb.
The outer buildings were aflame or otherwise destroyed, corpses of the dozens, if not hundreds who were outside the walls when the gate opened were scattered everywhere. Some would remain unidentifiable, others all too easily recognisable by the friends and family by the way the daedra had toyed and tortured them before they died. In the hour since the gate opened the death toll was high, but now with the cohort of guards reinforced with members of the city guilds and ordinary citizens, not only were the hordes being thrown back but the gate itself was soon assaulted.
Leading a motley band of individuals, Viconia and I directly assaulted the blazing Portal, hacking our way through the masses of creatures that spewed forth from its depths. Over a dozen of us entered, and while there were injuries nearly all of us made it back out alive. The young guard commander followed us every step of the way and while Viconia and I had managed to fight off a daedra lord like the one who I had fed on, he had managed to dislodge the burning Sigil Stone from its seat. Broken and severed, the fragile bonds connecting the two worlds ceased to exist and we were pulled into reality once more.
As quickly as it had begun, the assault was over. Victory was ours, but the cost was still high for the city. Of the hundreds who had lived outside of the walls, most were dead or wounded, their houses and businesses damaged and nearly everyone knew of someone affected by the attack. It was hailed as a triumph, the defence of the city and the successful counter attack into the gate was soon to become the stuff of legends. All the handful of defenders who stood at the gate against the daedric hordes found themselves heroes and lauded by the population, and in the following days Azzan would have to start turning away many of the dozens of individuals interested in becoming guild members.
Much to Viconia’s and my own annoyance our own parts in the battle were either greatly exaggerated, or unfortunately spoken about honestly. The way that we and the handful of guildsmen from the Mages and Fighter’s Guild had slew the daedroths and stood before the gates was soon spread throughout the city. It was a situation that wasn’t helped by the way that I had rallied the nervous guardsmen and practically led the defence of the entire city. Before a full day had passed Viconia, Azzan and all of those who survived the assault on the Oblivion Portal had been called to meet the Countess in the cathedral square in the eastern districts.
There was a feeling of celebration like the spring festivals, garlands of flowers, streamers, ribbons and copious amount of alcohol being distributed to all. The Countess proclaimed a day of celebration for the victory over the daedra for every year hence, and after so much death and despair the citizens of the city threw themselves heartily into the festivities. Viconia and I discussed the idea of slinking away in the chaos, but our identities were too well known for any escape attempt. Instead we found ourselves marching with the surviving defenders, passing through the cheering crowds and feeling thoroughly uncomfortable and discomforted at the attention.
At that point I had wished that I had drunk myself into insensibility. Walking through the crowds of hundreds lining the city streets and hanging from every window and lamppost was more terrifying than charging a nine foot crocodilian behemoth. The crowds were enormous, containing nearly every man, woman, child and traveller and shaking the ground with their roars of appreciation and celebration.
Overall the ceremony, called as such for lack of a better term was over quickly and held very little in the way of formality. The Countess simply stood in front of her throne that had been carried out from the depths of the castle, resplendent in her priceless silks and four-metre-long train that covered the ground behind her. Full of regal grace and civility in comparison to the rough and battered members of the city guard and guildsmen she was like a polished gemstone in amongst a pile of broken granite shards. One by one she walked along the thin ranks of individuals who stood or knelt in various forms of acknowledgment of her rank and position, handing out gifts and symbols of favour. Each item was as varied as the individuals they were handed to, some were as simple as amulets bearing the heraldry of Anvil County and the Umbranox lineage, others were priceless weapons and other artefacts from the depths of the castle vaults. When she made her way to where Viconia and I stood she stopped, looking over the two of us with something resembling awe threatening to break through the regal exterior.
"Viconia DeVir, and Kaius Desin." She had said simply, looking over to us with the gaggle of courtiers and servants hovering behind her. "I honour you for your bravery and service to my city. The people, and myself owe you a debt of gratitude that a simple token cannot repay."
A smile creased her aging features as she gestured for a pair of her servants to step forward with satin cushions held firmly in their hands. Upon each were a pair of beautifully forged cuirasses, black as the night and embossed with spiralling patterns of vines tracing their way up from the overlapping plackard and faulds to the shoulders. Immaculately made, with the only sign of damage being the dent in the sternum where their makers had tested their effectiveness they were almost more works of art than protection. For a moment I felt as though they were simple ceremonial pieces by the way the servants carried them, but under closer inspection I openly gaped at the materials used in their creation. While a deep matt black on the outer surface; the interior had been polished to a mirror sheen of the white-silver of mithril. They were lightweight, surprisingly thin but incredibly sturdy since they consisted of a combination of the two strongest metals known to the Empire. Ebony had somehow hammered and forged onto the outer layers, and then carved with an artisan’s care into intricate patterns that didn’t reduce their effectiveness. Between the mithril and the ebony layers there were few weapons that could hope to penetrate such armour.
With amazement and in front of the crowds the courtiers and servants moved forward, unstrapping our armour and replacing them with the ebony-mithril cuirasses. I felt myself being tugged this way and that as they strapped them firm against the rest of my armour and clothing, and once they stepped back I marvelled at how light the armour felt. It was as though they had been fashioned specifically for us and I resisted the urge to tap at the breastplate with my knuckles to check that it wasn’t a dream.
"Great heroes need great armour." The smile on her face was honest as she moved between us, looking over the way the cuirassiers clung to our bodies. "I have also commissioned the armourers of the city, including my own personal smith to fashion you something truly unique and fitting for your deeds. The hides of the great creatures you slew in defence of my city will serve you well in the coming days."
The roars of the crowd drowned out our responses and both Viconia and I were struck dumb by the sheer intensity of it. The rumbles of Red Mountain had nothing on the cheers of a hundred thousand people, and we had to stand and be buffeted by the volume. Thankfully the ceremony was over quickly, allowing us to disappear into the depths of the guild Chapterhouse and away from the dozens of individuals. Both Viconia and I marvelled over our new armour, the immaculate craftsmanship inherent in every millimetre of beautifully forged metal. They were incalculably old, perfectly maintained and while light enough for us to move to the best of our abilities they provided protection that was unsurpassed.
In the days that followed and for the fortnight that we stayed in the city we were kept busy. The guild received numerous more contracts with the increased fame but the devastation brought its own set of challenges. The dead had to be identified and buried by grieving friends and relatives and damage had to be repaired. Within the first week the gatehouse had been cleared and it wasn’t long before the sounds of pounding metal from smithies echoed through the city as a pair of new portcullises were forged. The doors would take a longer time to replace, suitable wood would have to be located but unlike most cities in the Empire, Anvil had a ready source of such wood available. Enormous planks were left stacked around the docks all year round in preparation for being made into keels of new sea going vessels, and while there was a lot to choose from the wood would have to be suitably dried before being hammered together into new gates.
The death toll had been high. Of the cohort who had followed us through the gates, over half had died or had suffered terrible wounds that would haunt them for the rest of their lives. The guild was down a fifth of its members, and hundreds of civilians and commoners had died outside the walls. There had been other deaths in the wake of the attack including those few unfortunates who had been run down in the streets in the panic. In the stampede of individuals fleeing from the daedra there were some who had slipped and crushed under dozens of stamping feet.
The funerals lasted over a week. Night and day the mournful howls from loved ones and pealing of church bells could be heard and despite the initial celebrations the cold sobriety of loss returned. Reeling from the dual blows of the cathedral’s desecration and the daedric siege, darkness had returned once more to the inhabitants of Anvil. Not allowing themselves to be lost in the depths of sorrow they were steeling themselves for the coming storm and unlike the rest of the Empire they were now taking the threat of Oblivion seriously. Guards began appearing on the streets in greater numbers, the number of recruits looking to join their ranks or the guild suddenly exploding. Azzan received several contracts from the castle and Guard Commander for guildsmen to train the current and future guardsmen of the city. The hard-won lesson of their inexperience in a real battle leading those in power to rectify the issue. As the blacksmiths of the city soon turned their trade to fashioning arms and armour, the clanging of training or the stamping of marching feet was growing more obvious by the day.
For our part, Viconia and I found ourselves the toast of the city whenever we emerged from the chapterhouse, which we both soon decided to do as little as possible. From time to time though we completed the ever increasing contracts that the guild was receiving, removing a few of the opportunistic bandits in the area or simply assisting in clearing the bodies of the dead. Thieves were caught, muggers taken care of and in the darkness of the evenings I managed to slake my thirst where it arose.
Over a fortnight after our arrival we were once again presenting ourselves in front of the Countess and her entourage. This time however was a much simpler affair within the main hall of the castle and witnessed by only a few individuals. Since the siege, the armourers and leatherworkers of the city had combined their skills together, even calling upon the skills of Carahil and her fellow mages in their task. Together they all had managed to skin the bodies of the Daedroths to create truly matchless armours.
After the fellmongers scraped away individual scales from the chest, back and arms of the creatures, the mages had imbued them with potent enchantments to ensure that the remains would never dissipate back to the infernal realm. Once enchanted, the most experienced smiths and armourers in the city had individually riveted each scale to an underlaying layer of moonstone chainmail; another gift from the castle armoury. Lightweight but still strong enough to hold the daedroth scales, the moonstone’s unique properties combined with the design of the interlocking links would allow the physical force of blows to be more evenly distributed. Combined with the daedroth scales and the breastplates the armour provided us with greater protection than eighty kilograms of tournament plate.
Each scale was twice the size of a thumbnail, overlapping and interlocking in a solid suit that covered our entire torsos from collar to mid-thigh and our arms down to the elbows. Individually sized and adjusted to our own frames, the chainmail and scale haubergeons felt surprisingly light and weighed considerably less than our previous steel and leather suits. Overall we had lost almost ten kilograms of total weight from our armour and equipment and fully dressed I felt light enough to leap into the sky and drag down a cloud. Between the Countess’s blacksmith Orrin, and the city’s master smith Varel Morvayn they had truly outdone themselves; their work more akin to art than armour. Viconia and I ensured that we acquired further pieces of armour from them, replacing and repairing our greaves, boots, vambraces and pauldrons until our armour alone was worth more than some tracts of land.
Our time in Anvil came to an end although our stay had been lengthened by almost a full week to receive our gifted suits of armour. Both Viconia and I stood perceptibly taller now, our declared statuses as Champions of the city filling us with pride even as we attempted to hide from the fame. The word of us closing not only one, but two oblivion portals would have travelled throughout the Empire and the other tales such as the minotaur hunt and contracts within the guild was very quickly making us legends.
Successful in our mission to Anvil, we once more returned to the road after hiring new steeds after our previous ones had been counted among the dead of the siege. Our journey gaining support of the guild was now taking us to the far south of Cyrodiil, and with winter now upon us it was not something I could complain about. Anvil was pleasant enough with its yearlong temperate climate but snows were still possible on the odd occasions. Bravil and Leyawiin still awaited us so we saddled up our new rides, and began the fortnight long trek to the Niben valley.
We stayed in coaching inns and taverns along the way, bypassing Kvatch during the middle of the day due to the faster pace we travelled at. Within a week we once again returned to Skingrad, staying for a couple of nights to ease the aches and pains of the journey from our bodies and acquire further provisions. The month since my brief fight with the cultist at the tannery had allowed the fellmongers to turn the minotaur titan’s hide into the goods that I had requested, and the brief stopover in the city allowed me to retrieve the order. Now our unique and immaculate armours were joined with further clothes and items of enduring quality, the thick hide of the minotaur now worn by us in the forms of gloves, hoods, cloaks and sturdy boots. The dark grey leather blended in with the green-brown deadroth scales, and blackened plates of our armour and the lightweight nature and colouring still allowed us to move with little hindrance. Where before we appeared little more than down-on-our-luck sellswords or highwaymen, we now looked every inch of the heroes we were known as.
Walking through the streets our unusual appearances turned heads long enough for our identities to be discerned and while for the most part this was limited to gasps and whispers between people there were still many who approached us in something resembling religious reverence. No matter how thickly the crowds gathered we seemed to be able to make our way through with no impediment, a gap appearing before us through a combination of fear and admiration.
During our brief stay in the city we mostly relaxed and killed time, gathering further supplies of arrows and rations for the journey to the rainforests and marshes of the Niben. Every precaution was taken and somewhat as a result we decided to lighten our pouches of valuables.
Four of our pouches had still been filled with a considerable number of gemstones and other valuables taken from the minotaur’s lair. I knew that while Viconia loved being in proximity to such wealth it made me increasingly uncomfortable. With our growing fame it would not be long before individuals would begin to try their luck with us in various challenges, and once the word or rumour of our wealth begins to spread we would have further complications. As a result we soon found ourselves the owners of one of the richest and expansive manors within the city, complete with furnishings and even hiring one of the local maids on a permanent basis as caretaker. Our lives on the road meant that it was highly unlikely for us to stay there in any permanent capacity and while it was almost bought on a whim, both of us felt more secure in the fact that we were down to a single pouch of valuables.
Rosethorn hall was a grand manor built in an old central Colovian style, stately and cosy despite the immense cost. There was enough room for a family of six to live comfortably with a section set aside specifically as the servants quarters. Eyja; our hired maid would have the manor to herself for the most part and before we continued on our journey I ensured that she had been paid almost two years in wages. After living semi-rough for the past years and coming highly recommended from all that we spoke to, neither Viconia and I were concerned for her trustworthiness. For the most part she seemed eager to please not only for fear of losing such a lucrative job but our reputations worked in our favour as a pair of individuals not to be crossed in any way.
Checking into the local guild during our stay allowed us to pick up a further contract along the road to Bravil. Glenvar County to the east between Skingrad and Bravil had been experiencing mysterious disappearances within its population. Sparsely populated, and only containing a handful of villages and towns, Glenvar was little more than wilderness where the forests of the West Weald met the rainforests and marshes of County Bravil. Tiny hamlets such as Pell’s Gate and Glenvar Village were the only real locations of civilisation outside of a handful of Legion Forts and Castle Glenvar itself.
Separated by a two lengthy days travel, Glenvar was a tidy little village nestled at the base of the hill where the Castle squatted and held the region in its stony grip. One of the few castles or forts in Cyrodiil that was not a Legion post; the Castle was well known to be incredibly defensible and rumoured to be unconquerable. Poor compared to the larger counties it was still welcoming despite the building distrust of strangers after the disappearances and the growing threat of Oblivion. Riding into town in the early hours of the night we managed to secure lodgings in the Faregyl Inn, choosing it over the closer but more ominously named "Inn of Ill Omen". Despite the disappearances and the slowly decreasing amount of traffic on the roads since the Emperor’s assassination there were little rooms to be had, leaving Viconia and I once again sharing a single room.
Up on the second level of the tavern, the hall was lined with doors but each room was barely three metres wide and four long. There was enough space for a single bed and straw mattress, a table and chairs arrangement and a travellers’ chest for short and long term storage. For the first evening we simply dumped our excess equipment and saddlebags, waiting for the following day for beginning the investigation into the missing villagers.
So far from the larger cities, the sway of superstition was stronger than science and fact and as such we found it increasingly difficult to get solid answers. Yes, people had been disappearing for the past few weeks. No, there hadn’t been any signs of ogres, goblins, trolls or other creatures of the wilds in the region for months. For the most part the disappearances had been those who had wandered or had been travelling alone on the roads during the night. On the surface it would’ve appeared as though the increasing number of bandits and highway throughout Cyrodiil were to blame but there had been at least two cases where individuals in the outer buildings and farms had vanished from within their homes. There were no signs of struggles, nothing to show for the fact that two dozen individuals of varied ages and professions had simply ceased to exist.
My own ability for tracking turned up nothing, a situation not helped by the fact that the last disappearance had been over a fortnight before. One of the young children of a farmer had gone to draw water for the evening bath from the stream leading from the base of the cliff where the castle was built and had instead vanished in the night. The bucket she had taken was found sitting a few metres away from the water’s edge, and that was the only sign that she had been present.
The locals were understandably fearful, barring their doors of a night and hanging various herbs, ribbons and blessed items from doorframes and windows in various attempts to keep evil at bay. The amount of times that I had bumped my head on the cloves of garlic and hourglass hanging from the ceiling just inside the tavern’s door was leaving a mild bruise in the middle of my forehead. The garlic was supposedly protection from creatures of the night such as vampires which my mere presence made a mockery of, and the hourglass was supposedly a talisman for seeking Akatosh’s protection. Neither of which I had much faith in their supposed benefits, and there were an increasing number of the locals with similar ideas to my own who carried various weapons at all times. Too poor for swords or smith-forged equipment, most carried something as simple as a hatchet or woodsman’s axe, others keeping various knives tucked into their belts or a spear or agricultural equipment on their backs.
Viconia’s and my presences were met with mixed reactions. While our reputations had reached even this backwater of the Empire, the fact that we were with the Fighter’s guild only seemed to confirm to the locals that there was indeed something rotten in the county. By the end of the first day it was almost like we were being called out to see and investigate every noise and movement in the entire region. Between my growing annoyance of the locals and the lack of any suitable leads I was in a foul mood when I returned to the tavern, once again bumping my forehead on the bottom of the hourglass as I made my way up the stairs to our shared room.
Viconia had returned the hour previously to wash off today’s accumulated dust and grime, and she looked up at me as I entered after knocking gently. She had changed into her travelling clothes, leaving her armour unfastened and placed neatly along the table that we had jammed into the corner to provide space for my bedroll along the floor.
"Discovered that hourglass again did you?" She asked, seeing how I was absently rubbing at my forehead.
"Yeah. Maybe at next smithy we come across I should invest in a helmet."
Sitting on the edge of the bed she smiled slightly, leaned forward and watched as I began stripping my armour. My new minotaur cloak was unfastened and draped from the hook on the back of the door along with my hood and mask before shedding my bandolier and pouches. Next came the breastplate, pauldrons, and faulds that made a neat pile of mithril, ebony, steel and leather in the chair before I came to the struggle that was the Daedroth scale chainmail. Thankfully its light weight compared to regular chainmail made it easy to slide off but for the most part it still left me grunting and cursing as I lifted it over my head and arms.
Left in nothing but my tunic, chainmail chausses, greaves and boots I suddenly felt lighter and uncomfortably exposed. After shedding the armour that I had worn every day and nearly every night for the past fortnight I almost felt naked.
Sunchild and its scabbard was placed up against the table where Viconia’s effects had been arrayed in perfect order, and as I turned I saw the strange expression on her face. She sat, one knee raised with her foot on the bed, hands folded over her knee and chin resting on top of them. Staring into space she had begun curling herself into a ball even while trying not to appear to be doing so.
"Viconia?" carefully I stepped forward, bending down slightly to look into her eyes. "What’s wrong?"
The wolf-yellow irises and widened pupils darted up into mine and I could almost feel the turmoil of emotions running through her. There was the slightest tremble of emotion running through her limbs and enough fear in her eyes that I suddenly felt myself tensing as though expecting a fight.
"Wait." Her voice was tiny and lacking the usual confidence and strength that usually filled every word as she choked them out. "If... If you would please sit with me for a moment I would be thankful. I am not eager to be alone right now."
I moved carefully over to her, sitting down onto the edge of the bed but still leaving a sizable gap between us. It creaked under my weight and shifted her slightly higher as my bulk crushed the hay a fraction more. The fear now was a bitter taste on the edge of my tongue and unbidden the vampire had risen to lend me its enhanced senses. I could hear the crowd in the dining room below us, hear crickets as the sun fully set outside and the faint snorting of stock animals in the various pens and pastures scattered around the community. The fire blazed away softly in the inn’s fireplace, warding off the creeping cold of winter despite how far south we were. Owls called out to their own kind within the trees of the surrounding forests and dozens of kilometres away I could hear the lonely howl of a male wolf calling to its mate.
There was nothing untoward in the entire region but Viconia was still sitting beside me, trembling slightly and lost in the depths of her own mind and emotions. Unthinking, and with no other idea of what to do I reached over, putting a hand on her shoulder with what little pressure I dared and preparing myself to snatch it away if needed.
Instead she suddenly moved, shifting her weight on the bed and closing the distance between us. My hand found itself on her opposite shoulder to me, wrapping around her petite frame while she gripped my other hand so tightly that I felt my knuckles crunch together.
Her natural perfume was overwhelming, the scent of her skin and hair coiling around me like the shadows of the flickering lantern hanging from the wall. My every instinct was smothered with the feeling of her proximity and the touch of her shoulder and hand under my own. No longer appearing strong and unyielding as the mountains she instead felt diminutive as her wide opened eyes darted around the room at even the slightest hint of movement.
"Are you all right?" I asked, looking down on her while my concern was building immeasurably with every second. The shaking of her body was welling up from deep within the core of her being and after facing down cultists, minotaurs and the worst oblivion could throw at us, her fear was the most terrifying thing I had ever experienced.
Wordlessly, she looked up into my eyes, and I found myself lost in their yellow depths. There was moisture there, the tiniest hint of tears building in the corners and I tore at the interior at my mind at how I didn’t understand what was happening, nor what I could do to help her.
The weight of her head rested into my shoulder for a moment and I couldn’t help but feel the guilty pleasure at such proximity. Her shivers were building despite how I tried to wrap my entire left arm around her in a poor attempt at comforting her fears. She simply looked up at me wordlessly, gripping my right hand in her own across the top of her thighs and a sorrowful expression consuming her from within.
Without warning her free hand reached up, caressing the side of my face before drawing me down in such a way I was completely caught off guard. Even before I could react she had drawn us together, locking her lips on mine and losing the both of us to the intimacy of the kiss. I could feel every fluttery breath in her chest, the steady beat of her heart coursing blood through her veins and for that moment in time there were nothing else in the universe but the feeling of her lips on mine, tongues moving together, her fingers on my skin and the coiling smell of her perfume floating around me.
As quickly as the kiss had begun it had ended, having lasted only for a heartbeat and for eras as the same time. Sitting in silence and still holding each other we stared into each other’s eyes with only a few centimetres space between us. Every perfect angle of her face was visible to me, the shoulder length hair free and tickling my arm as it cascaded down with only a few burrs and tangles despite our travels. There was a moment where I thought she would draw me back down for an even more passionate kiss but the sudden pounding on the door soon put that idea to rest.
Closing my eyes with a grimace of complete and utter annoyance that was perfectly mirrored by her own, I slowly withdrew my arm from around her shoulders. For a moment I stared at the door, wishing and willing for whoever it was who had interrupted the moment to go away, fall off the edge of the earth or be consumed by a daedra. Anything that would send them away from the moment that they had inadvertently ruined.
"Master Desin? Miss DeVir?"
Cursing every god and daedra in existence in the back of my mind I carefully stood up, seeing my own anger reflected in Viconia’s expression. The way that I pulled Sunchild from its resting place against the table was not lost on her as I stomped over to the door, tearing it open with enough force that the young farmhand standing on the other side jumped back in shock.

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