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Gloves shredded, blackened talons of bone peeling apart my fingertips I had caught the descending blade in the palm of a hand rendered stronger than the steel blade that it caught. There was no blood, only the solid impact jarring my entire body as it stopped dead.
My other hand lashed out, not in rage but in a cold calculating strike that transcended all emotions. Her other hand was suddenly gripped around the wrist, pulling her closer to me while I pushing her towards the wall. We were that close I could feel her breaths on my face and see the hot, fat tears rolling down her cheeks and splattering the front of her chainmail.
The sight of the tears stopped the vampire as surely as the blade that was held in a transformed hand. Forcing the beast into the recesses of my soul I felt the customary tingling through my aching jaw and cheeks and my fingers reshaping into those of a man rather than daedra. Standing there with a trembling sword held aloft in one hand, a strangely delicate wrist in the other, I could do nothing but stare into her eyes as she began releasing all her pent-up emotions. Pressed against the wall, she could do nothing more than cast her eyes down and away from my own and weep.
"You trust me because when I say that I will not let anything happen to you I mean it." I began, and I felt her body relax and her breathing suddenly transform in deep wracking breaths. The sword slipped out of her hand and I released it as well from a hand suddenly feeling numb from the impact, hearing the blade clatter against the tiled floor.
Suddenly free I reached out with my tingling hand, pressing it against the side of her face and feeling the uncomfortable heat emanating from her flesh as she looked up into my eyes. There was a moment as I struggled to talk, feeling the words worming into my mind and yet struggling to bring myself to say them out loud.
"I love you Viconia," I whispered, admitting it not only to her but to myself with the simple words. In the months of travelling and the time spent together I knew that I had been holding back for not only far of losing her but of admitting what I had always believed to be weakness. There was a similar shudder of emotion that flowed through her and her eyes clamped shut in a vain attempt to block the tears.
"I have never been one to believe in fate," I began, feeling her body trembling as she shook her head at my words but unable to ignore them completely. "but after everything that has happened I am sure that we were fated to meet."
She shook her head even harder, trying to crush the tears away and I could feel her frustration of her emotions fighting against a lifetime of engrained teachings.
"No." She whispered. "It cannot be like this. After everything that has happened, I have still lost."
My hand remained against her cheek and I felt the increased pressure as she leant against it unconsciously. Bunching up her fists as I let go of her other hand she hit me in the chest but there was no strength behind the punches anymore. Tears were streaming down her face as she heaved in deep breaths, her entire body being rocked by the efforts to rein in her feelings. without thinking I had wrapped my arms around her, feeling her press into me and my armour as she buried her head in my chest.
"I... I cannot go on any longer." In between sobs she spluttered the words out onto my breastplate. "I cast my white flag before you. You have... You have defeated me."
My grip around her shoulders tightened as I tried the best I could to comfort her, feeling her shift in my embrace. Curling up and clenching her fists under her chin she pushed into my chest with surprising force. Months, if not years of pent up emotions flooded out of her, leaving her suddenly go limb and almost fall if not for my embrace. Her entire body was shaking with the effort and emotions that had been eating away at her. Now that it was being released, all her mental defences were now breaking down in succession until there was no resistance left at all.
"I... I don't know what it is about you, but I have opened up completely. I have let you inside with such honest and candour, and I am not used to that."
We had slumped to our knees as she curled up even more into a protective ball. One arm was wrapped tightly around her, the other gently brushed against her flowing white hair in an awkward display of affection. Unused to showing any form of emotion myself I pulled away slightly, providing just enough space so we could look each other in the eyes. "Well, you better get used to it."
"Khaless zhah aphyon." She said before translating the words into common. "Trust is death. I have been betrayed again and again and yet I began to trust you. You were right; the first story was the truth."
I felt her fingers reach up and mimic the movement of my fingers over her skin, and I felt the strange surge of connection where her skin made contact with mine. The feeling of warmth made me somewhat light headed and I ridiculously considered that this could possibly be nothing more than a dream from suffering a head injury during the fight.
"I have begun to feel that I need you and this enthrals and enrages me all at once." A tortured smile creased her face, one that contained enough of the smile that I was growing to love so much. "I owe you so much. I doubt that I could ever repay you for what you have done for me. You are a safe harbour in a storm, and for that I thank you."
"It’s going to take a lot more than you beating the shit out of me for you to lose me. Hells, it will probably even take more than the end of the world to get rid of me. No matter what happens, I promise I will always be here for you."
For a few short moments we stared into each other’s eyes and her voice grew soft and fearful. "Despite everything, I will be with you if you were still to have me. I will not try to push you away again as I no longer have the strength."
I smiled as warmly and honestly as I could, my fingers in their shredded gloves tracing patterns down the smooth flesh of her cheek and jaw as I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers.
Leaving the ruins of the basement behind and deciding that we had well and truly overstayed our welcome, Viconia and I moved on from the cesspit that was Bravil. With barely a backwards glance or even bidding any farewells, we acquired our equipment and faded into the streets like wraiths in the afternoon shadows. Neither of us wanted to remain in the stinking city for any longer, and the expressions of anger, annoyance and pity that were in the eyes of the other Fighters only confirmed our decision.
That night we slept together, curling up under our cloaks and clothing off the side of the road and passing out in each other’s arms. Too tired, cold and emotionally drained; neither of us could do much else but make ourselves comfortable in a mostly dry patch of ground, surrounded by the burbling of the marshland and the croaking of frogs. Using her hood as a pillow Viconia rested with her head on my chest, both of us choosing to sleep fully clothed in our armours. There was something extremely comforting resting with her weight pressed into my side and my arm wrapped around her shoulders.
I woke with the morning sun as it began spearing through the mangroves, feeling strangely relaxed despite the obvious tightness of my shoulders and neck from sleeping in one position for the entire evening. Viconia continued sleeping for some time after myself, her face calm and peaceful and bereft of the scowls that twisted the flesh. For what felt like hours I simply lay there, smiling to myself and running the tips of my fingers through her hair lightly as so not to disturb her.
After some time, she rolled lightly, eyes cracking open and while lined with veins there was a much softer light to them that morning. Blinking she looked up and gave me a faint smile, lifting herself up so I could roll and stretch out the creases in my spine from the evening with a series of pops.
"Well, this is unexpectedly pleasant." She said, looking over me as I sat up and cracked my neck with my hands.
"Except for the twinges that was the best sleep I have had in years." I replied, stretching my again back with another series of pops.
There was a nervous energy about her as she sat, flexing her hands and looking at me with slight apprehension. With a nod of thanks, she took a hunk of hardtack and one of the waterskins as I handed them over to her.
"What?" I asked, looking over to her and grinding away at piece of my own hardtack that had a consistency comparable to a wooden shield.
There was a moment of hesitation, eyes looking about before finally settling on her hands. "Yesterday... You said that you loved me."
I paused in mid-bite, meeting her gaze and carefully chewing as I thought. "I did."
Rolling the thoughts through my mind like I would roll stones in the palm of my hand, I thought long and hard. The growing feelings that I had for her since we had first met had been growing stronger with every passing day. While I knew that there was a considerable amount of lust as a foundation it wasn’t just a physical attraction. I would do anything for her, and I also knew that there would be nothing in my power that I would not undertake to ensure that she remained safe. Even for something as simple as a smile I would throw myself into the depths of Oblivion unarmed.
"Because I care about you. Even before what happened with the Mythic Dawn I would have died before letting you come to harm."
"You need to work on your effectiveness then." She said half-jokingly, unconsciously pressing her fingers into her armour where the crossbow bolts had lodged. "but why didn’t you claim me last night?"
"Claim you?" The confusion only lasted for a moment until the realisation flashed into my mind. My eys widened as I looked at her. "Oh..."
With both eyes burning into me she watched me carefully, studying every inch of my expression.
I felt incredibly nervous under her gaze and my mouth was suddenly dry and not just form the hunk of wood masquerading as bread after being baked far too many times. "Look, I’m not good with women. Never have been and probably never will be. After yesterday I didn’t think that it would have been a good idea to rush things, especially how we have only kissed twice and all that."
She leant over, pressing her lips against mine and for a moment we lost ourselves in the feeling. Reaching up, I ran my fingers through her hair as her hand pressed into my jaw. "Thrice now." She said huskily as she pulled away, the words rising from deep within her chest and almost sounding like a purr.
"I really do think that I love you."
The hunger in her eyes dimmed slightly and she looked at me with slight hints of confusion. "As you keep saying. But, other than the substandard examples I have seen during my time on the surface that word holds no meaning."
"And I’m not sure if I can describe it either." I replied honestly. "The best I think that I’ll be able to do is show you, as I know the Drow don’t have a word for Love."
"We do." The scowl returned with customary force. "Ssinssrigg. But it doesn’t hold the same meaning as what you put into yours. I would use it to describe how I feel about my sword, or my armour, not an individual."
"What would you call a lover or partner?"
"Mrannd'ssinss."
Rolling the word around my tongue I tried to remember what little she had taught me about her native tongue. "Which means I would call you mrind'sins."
There was darkness in her eyes for a second as I butchered the word. "Mrimmd'ssinss." She pronounced very carefully. "And don’t. The intent and meaning of those words don’t translate into common the way you are intending. The closest meaning to Mrannd'ssinss that I can comfortably translate is "male-who’s-life-and-seed-you-possess’. As I possess neither and this is not a relationship within the Underdark then it is inaccurate."
"In case you haven’t noticed, on the surface it’s not the words but the meaning and emotion you put into them." Carefully I rose to my feet, offering her a hand to help her rise. "I take it that we are something more than just travelling companions now?"
Her laugh was musical. "Not yet we aren’t." There was a wicked gleam in her eyes as she moved closer and ran her fingers up my breastplate. "You lost your opportunity last night, but who knows what the future holds?"
"Hopefully a decent bed and a bath that doesn’t have mud mixing through the water."
"Shar’s sacred blessings I hope so." She moved closer and we kissed again, our arms wrapping around each other and I felt the solid thump of our armours coming together.
"Until then you’ll just have to behave yourself..." The sultry grin of pleasure and amusement creased her expression into one that nearly made my heart miss a beat. "Mrannd'ssinss..."
It was a lengthy journey to Leyawiin in the deep south of Cyrodiil, and every kilometre seemed to increase the temperature and humidity until we were riding in our tunics and daedroth scales. All my metal armour plates had been stuffed into various saddlebags, and I left my minotaur leather cloak and hood wrapped around me only to keep the sun’s burning gaze from turning my skin red and raw. Viconia, despite her the deep ebony colouring of her skin had similar issues as the sun beat down mercilessly and complained bitterly about the sun’s savage bite. After two days the evening were broken with storms that had begun regularly every day. These storms and the rain would leave us drenched at each tavern or coaching inn we stayed the night at but at least managed to go some way at washing away the filth of Bravil from our flesh and belongings.
No longer did we stay in separate rooms or sleeping on the bed and floor respectively. Each night we retired to our room resulted in sleeping in each other’s arms and by the third morning we rose exhausted after having very little sleep the night before. There had been times that I was thankful for my vampiric curse, and it was on that morning that I rose sore and bearing more than just a handful of bite marks and scratches that I was grateful for the increased stamina. Like a river bursting its banks, our emotions and mutual lust had finally found a release and it was closer to midday when the two of us managed to resaddle our mounts and continue with our journey. What began as soft and gentle caresses had quickly changed to a rough and passionate hunger that we satisfied with each other’s flesh, leaving both of us with a handful of sore muscles, various aches and some difficulty walking for both of us.
Each night afterwards, and on one occasion while we stopped for lunch we relieved all the sexual tension that had been building for the past four months. Viconia especially was positively glowing as we finally came within sight of the towered walls of Leyawiin
Built into the outcroppings of stone and foothills at the mouth and estuaries of the lower Niben; Leyawiin was a majestic sight. As the stronghold that not only provided a safe port for the ships and fleets in the southern Empire, but also secured the only sea trading routes to the Imperial city it was heavily fortified. Unlike Bravil there was no decay or lingering sense of long lost glories but the feeling of progress and security. Thousands of acres around the city, almost for as far as the eye could see had been cleared of mangroves and rainforests and instead turned into enormous collections of rice paddies. Tiered into every rising slope and supplied from an enormous series of aqueducts from as far away as the rivers and streams in the mountain ranges separating Elswyr and Cyrodiil to the west.
Trapped in between two provinces with less than a week’s travel separating them, the city had to be strong not just for the Empire’s interests but also for its very survival. Well experienced fighting against Khajiit raiders and Argonian insurgents, the militia was almost a private army comparable to the legions, but Leyawiin had more than just guards to protect her.
Viconia and I rode steadily down the highway towards the towering walls of the city. Gently swaying in the saddle as our horses trotted along, it was considerably more pleasant now that we found ourselves surrounded by the sea of rice paddies and the sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds. A cool breeze flowed from the south and Topal Bay, allowing the dozens of enormous ships sailing in the wide river mouth to make their way steadily towards the north and the Imperial City. Some of the gigantic vessels slid south, relying on a complex series of sails that allowed them to crawl bow first into the wind and for the moment Viconia and I were content in taking in our new surroundings.
Viconia was hooded, covering her skin from the light of the sun as best she could but already I could tell that there was a newer, healthier shine from the days of travel. I was wrapped slightly in my own hood and cloak, leaving little more than my forearms out as they began to go a burned pink from the hours of exposure.
"Do your people have a rite of Passage into adulthood?" she asked as we travelled along the highway and steered our mounts through the increasing press of travellers and merchants. "I'm curious."
I glanced over to her, while keeping an eye on the dozens of people making their way throughout the area. For over a kilometre around the city the ground was solid and sparsely constructed. Unlike the other cities in the Empire, Leyawiin was constantly on a war-footing and only the bare minimum buildings were allowed outside its walls. "Nothing formal really. Some cultures have a few different traditions but even then, it differs from place to place."
The word of a recent attack on the city had reached us on the second night on the road south and around us there was the general bustle of military might that followed all engagements. Another Oblivion gate had opened but this time it had been a resounding victory against the Deedra. The details had been sparse, but the word had been that the battle had been over in less than two hours with only a few dozen casualties. "I know that a few of the Nords usually go on some hunt with the elders, and some of the Dumner tribes in northern Morrowind have a trial where they have to enter the Ashlands and survive for a period of days."
Her grin was savage, and I knew that she was enjoying herself even if somewhat at my expense. "The Drow have a formal ritual, although it does vary from place to place. What we call "the Blooding" must be performed by both sexes upon reaching the age of maturity."
"It sounds as suitably dark and violent as what I could expect from the Drow." I chucked lightly. "What exactly is it?"
"It’s quite simple." She replied, closing her eyes and skin tingling as the wind from outside the small cave we were resting flowed across her naked body. "The young must hunt down and kill an intelligent being. Usually one of the adventurers cloth."
"So one such as myself? That definitely sounds right for a warrior race."
"You would've made a fitting trophy," It was her time to laugh quietly, and looked at me with her wolf-yellow eyes. "if for a simple youngling barely reaching puberty. My house insisted for the head of a holy warrior, and so I brought my Matron the head of a Akhulging Sigorduba - a Priest of some Cult in a neighbouring city."
The sudden tenseness that ran through her body was detectable even from the distance between us. Carefully I steered my horse around a wagon filled with bags containing what appeared to be a significant amount of amber. "What happened?"
"He took me for a beggar seeking guidance. He was far more learned than what I would've guessed, as he quickly managed to see through my deception. It still didn't stop me from using his own holy mace to cave in his skull."
"Your Mother must have been pleased."
There was an audible sigh and she looked around momentarily as we moved closer to an enormous building a few hundred metres from the walls. Over a kilometre away we could both see the broken spears of obsidian where an Oblivion gate had once stood only days previously. "It brought me respect in a society ruled by cruelty and ambition. These acts please Lloth."
"Pleasing the Spider Queen was out of ethos and on mantra, girding ourselves to conquer other races." She continued, even as we both looked up over the structure. It was a combination of fortress and cathedral, reaching into the sky with a spire of locally hewn masonry and surrounded by a two-story wall topped with crenulations. Unlike the other buildings outside of the city this enormous castle-monastery was somewhat new, as the walls were still mostly free of creepers and moss despite the humid conditions. "The Drow wish to rule, as do the Duergar, the Kuo-toa and even the Illithids, but our feet are clay. We distrust ourselves almost more than other races, and where I once thought of this as strength I now know that it is nothing more than weakness."
The haunting call of a battle horn sounded, and the highway cleared with an indecent haste. Wagons and carts were rolled over to the edges, those on foot stepping into the gutters and softer soil bordering the well-worn cobblestones. Within seconds the sounds of hooves began to reverberate through the air, thudding their way into our bellies. Viconia and I too steered our horses to the sides and out of the way as the ten-metre-wide road was left clear for the approaching group of riders exiting the city.
There was over forty of them, riding in a column four wide and at least ten long and cut a sight that I had never seen outside of wood carvings or in my imagination. Resplendent in their burnished steel plates and chainmail polished to an absolute shine, the entire group were fully plated for war. From their sallet and great helms, to their plate mailed toes they were dressed in dozens of kilograms of perfectly forged armour, white surcoats and pennants fluttering in the breeze. Even their horses; a collection of massive thoroughbreds with the smallest being no less than sixteen hands high were also heavily armoured in layers of leather and plate barding. These knights were the men and mer who had lowered lances and charged into the throat of oblivion, annihilating the daedra and crushing them under steel-shod hooves. Each knight and his steed were over a tonne of armour and flesh; capable of riding through a storm of arrows and smash entire formations to splinters with sword, lance, mace and hammer.
As they cantered through the press they barely provided a sideways glance to those suddenly bowing or saluting their respect to the armoured knights. I watched, tapping my fist against my chest as the troop passed by us, towering over Viconia and I in their armoured might. A handful turned and looked at us as they rode onto the massive structure that was their fortress-monastery, appearing to have as much emotion as dwemer automatons than flesh-and blood beings in their faceless helms. One of the riders snapped his visor open to allow him to see better than through the series of pinholes and the horizontal slit in the visor. White faced and sweating in the layers of armour, the Imperial grinned at the two of us and briefly raised his lance to return my salute.
All of them were sporting obvious signs of battle. Shields had been buckled or rent, armour sporting new dents and metallic gashes where blades and other weapons had tried and failed to breach the impressive plate. Tabards and surcoats were scorched or still held the fading bloodstains of their foes that failed to hide the horse and sword iconography of their order. These men were the Knights of the White Stallion; one of the few Knightly Orders based within Cyrodiil itself.
As they rode their massive warhorses through the opened gates of their monastery Viconia and I turned and steered our horses back into the road as the other travellers were already doing. Viconia especially seemed almost struck dumb by the sight of the Knights, looking back towards their fortress in an attempt to catch a further glimpse.
"By Shar, I never imagined that such beings could exist!" There was a strangely dreamy quality to her gaze as she thought of what she had witnessed. "And such beasts! Those minotaurs we killed could not have been any more than half their weight!"
"I never thought that I would see a Knight in the flesh." I couldn’t help but shudder slightly. The size of the armoured warriors and their horses left me feeling as though I was riding nothing more than a child’s rocking horse instead of our pack animals. "Most of the Knightly orders are far away in Hammerfell and High Rock."
"They look effective." She admitted as we rode closer to the city. The closer we got to the walls and the broken remains of the Oblivion Portal the more I began to notice the way that the ground had been churned up.
"There’s no doubt about that." With an arm I gestured to the soil around the walls before the portal and the road, pointing out what I could see with my forester’s experience. "They met the daedra coming out of the portal head on."
The ground was churned into a mire of clods of earth and mud created from daedra blood. It almost appeared as though a Sheogorath worshipper had tried his hand ploughing a field and I could see the trailing lines where two or three ranks of mounted soldiers had charged the portal across an area just over a hundred metres wide. From the size of the warhorses we had just witnessed, I quickly guessed that there would have been two or three hundred Knights in the charge that tore the ground into a muddy wound and crushed a daedric assault into paste. The stories of how only a dozen or so had lost their lives in the attack no longer seemed to be wishful thinking or propaganda. If anything, it had been an overestimation of the number who had died.
Despite the heat and humidity of southern Cyrodiil, Leyawiin was pleasant and relaxing, especially after our brief time within Bravil. The local wore full length dresses and various other loose fitting, comfortable garments to deal with the stifling humidity and year-round temperatures. After years in northern Vvardenfell the heat left me sweating almost constantly that replacing my clothing with cooler cloth of a much thinner weave only went somewhat towards making it comfortable.
Viconia however seemed to revel in the heat and the local culture. While she admitted to feeling at home in the violent debauchery and crime-rife city of Bravil there was something about the way the locals that attracted her. Bravil may have been incredibly like Menzoberranzan but with worse plumbing and sewage; but Leyawiin was a city deeply influenced by its mix of cultures. Traditionally Nibenese, it had somehow managed to resist a significant portion of the external influences to remain one of the last true regions where the culture could be experienced. While primarily a mix of Argonian and Khajiit, the Nibenese shone through. Easily one in every three of the locals were Argonians, several Khajiit spotted with every turn of the head but the influences of the Empire and the locals were obvious.
For the first few days there was little to do but wander the streets and see the sights. The Fighters Guild here was idle, but not through laziness or ill-discipline such as those in Skingrad. There were no contracts to be had as the only organised source of competition for the Guild within Cyrodiil was based within the southern city. The Blackwood company; founded by mercenary remnants after the Arnesian war, and Beastfolk deserters from the Legion they had muscled in on the local area. By undercutting the local guild and taking contracts that no self-respecting guildsman would even consider, the Blackwood Company had quickly grown in size and strength. Within a decade they had ended up outnumbering the two dozen Fighters with over a cohort’s worth of sell-swords that were little better than thugs and bandits. The tensions between the two groups of mercenaries had been growing ever since the Company was formed, and brawls and scuffles in the streets and various taverns were not unheard of.
On the second night we had arrived I found myself and Viconia stuck between a group of guildsmen and locals in a tavern, using a combination of our reputations and presences to break up what was going to be a brawl if it continued for any longer. The members of the guild in Leyawiin were strong, courageous and highly skilled ,but unfortunately the lack of regular paying jobs or any form of action have left them bored and making their own fun. The number of stories we heard of punch ups between the guild members and locals, guards and members of the Blackwood Company were almost without number. It was almost a tradition or habit by now for the local guildsmen to have one of their number in jail a couple of times each week.
With no contracts to be had and a new dynamic between the Viconia and I, we simply explored the city. For the first two days we did little more than introduce ourselves to the local guild before exploring the market places and plazas. After my plunge into the ruins of Nornalhorst our wealth had only increased once more, leaving us yet again with two pouches each filled with gemstones and other valuables.
Early in the morning on the second day Viconia and I were making our way through the city’s markets, looking over the collections of trinkets, oddities and goods from throughout the bounds of the Empire. Although there was no affectionate touching or holding of hands between the two of us, anyone watching could see that there was something between us. Whether it was a soft caress of a shoulder or a briefest touch to gain each other’s attentions, we were infinitely more relaxed and comfortable in each other’s presences compared to the weeks and months previously.
Despite the confirmed threat of Oblivion hanging over the city there was no fear like what had infected Anvil. The guard was strong, well experienced and highly trained and with the incredible example of the Order of the White Stallion’s charge into the portal on everyone’s lips it was as though nothing untoward was affecting the Empire. Trade continued to flourish, dozens of peddlers and merchants were out in force on every street corner and filling the trading squares with the array of goods. Almost anything could be bought here in a smaller copy of what could be found in the Imperial City but with a considerable Nibenese streak. Crafts made from amber, carved figurines in wood and ivory, spices and an incredible array of chocolates and other sugared foodstuffs were in the hundreds. With a region so agriculturally diverse and rich it was almost as though we had stepped into a different world. The rich bounty of the jungles, rainforests and marshes ensured that even the beggars were able to dress in silks and the food was either incredibly sweet and overwhelmingly spicy.
From throughout the Empire traders stopped at the city on the way north and the teeming multitudes on City Isle. Jewellery from Summerset Isle, Nordic swords, Orcish armour, and rare textiles from Morrowind could be found here, and it wasn’t long before Viconia found several more pieces of jewellery to add to her small collection.
Making our way through the markets I watched as Viconia flitted from stall to stall, finding herself the centre of attention not only from the men but also from the women. She was dressed in a flowing silken dress that if it showed any more skin it would have created a minor scandal. Even with the underdressed state of the locals and the way that they dressed in silks and toga, she turned heads wherever she went. But what was surprising especially to Viconia was the way that many of the local women also approached her. The local Nibenese population appeared to be either tattooed or sporting several piercings or both, showing their cultural legacies through modifying their flesh and bodies. Some of the more fervent in their practices even sported considerable amounts of scarification, etching their family histories on their flesh with acids or sharpened blades. Viconia’s natural beauty was enough to turn heads, but the mapped history of pain and suffering was becoming ever more prominent every day. Appearing as greyed lines across her ebony flesh, the sheer amount of scarring was becoming even more visible as her skin continued to darken ever further from the sun’s kiss. It did not take long before some of the more courageous of the locals drew closer to her to ask about the patterns and how she had come about them.
The looks of horror at the truth in her words seemed to keep Viconia amused when she told portions of her tales, but the increase in her confidence was startling. I had not noticed the ways that she had kept her flesh hidden over the months previous; thinking that it was simply because the sun burned her far more than those of the surface world. The fact that she had been incredibly self-conscious about the scarring and imperfections and chosen to hide from the world was only noticeable at the sight of the way that she now carried herself. Although I was mentally kicking myself for not noticing earlier, I couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the pair of women fawning over Viconia. They were noblewomen by the purple silks of their dresses and they followed her like a shadow for several minutes while convincing her that the scarring only made her even more attractive.
Between the two noblewomen and two clothing vendors that they dragged her to, they managed to distract her as they fawned over her. The highborn women were utterly set on finding something more suitable than the dress she was currently wearing, delving through the piles of clothes with an excitable energy that only left Viconia looking confused in the midst of it all. Her face was alight with a rare kind of pleasure as the two vendors began competing against each other by pulling out finer and finer dresses that were so expensive that even the two nobles shrank back. Viconia ate up the attention, running her fingers through the finery that only the two of us knew that we could afford.
"Greetings good sir." One of the nearby vendors called out. "You look like someone who could benefit from my stall."
Turning and looking over the middle aged orc standing proudly before his wares, I saw how his cart was almost groaning under the weight of the weapons that were arrayed upon it. Further behind him at the corner of a nearby alley stood his shop; a simple smithy that seemed unsuited for the skill and experience of the Orc blacksmith.
"What have you got for me?" I replied, wandering over to him as he beamed and stepped backwards to his cart.
"Whatever you need." There was a laugh from the greenskin. Like the rest of his kind he was monstrously large, chest and shoulders half as wide again than mine and consisting almost entirely of muscle. Flecks of white were beginning to win their battle against the last of his thinning hair, but the beard that clung to his face like moss was still thick and like steel wire.
"I’ve got anything you need to remove a problem in your life. Just depends on what your preference is." There was no doubt that he knew who I was and the looks that he sent to, and received from the other vendors spoke volumes. The others were upset that he had managed to gain the attention of one of the heroes of Kvatch, and he was proud that such a person was looking over his wares.
Like most of his kind, his craft had been made with an innate gift in the art of forging metal. It was a very closely run tie between Orckind’s ability in creating weapons, and their natural skill in wielding them. Like a lot of people, I believed that their expertise in one increased the other, and this particular Orc’s wares seemed to go a way towards proving it.
Axes, Maces, warhammers, swords, flails, polearms, daggers and battle picks were arrayed in a carpet of death dealing implements. Each one was forged from various materials and in various designs. Most were obviously Imperial, even if some were made from more than just simple folded steel. I ran my fingers over a dagger carved from what was undeniably smelted dwemer metal and a massive greatsword as long as I was tall, forged from the dull green of orichalcum.
Each piece had been lovingly crafted, forged with the skill and might of the orc standing beside me as I picked a few of the weapons up in turn, feeling their balance and weight and marvelling at both. Nearly seven kilograms of solid beaten metal ensured that it was a weapon designed for only the strongest of swordmen and was sturdy enough to bash its way through armour with its weight alone. Knowing full well that it had been made for one of his own kind I dragged the enormous greatsword from the cart, feeling his amused eyes resting on me as I gave it a few experimental twirls.
The amusement of the orc and several of the other witnessed died and was replaced with a combination of awe and respect as I wielded the blade effortlessly and left it humming after cutting through the air. So focussed on the blade they all had failed to noticed how my bunched arms had grown slightly in size and my face tightened in more than just concentration. The sword was perfectly balanced but with a blade twice as long as the Light of Dawn, and nearly four times as long as Sunchild it was not something I would go to battle with.

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