Madrar
The Shadow in the Dark.
4E 202, 1st of Sun's Dawn
Wayrest, High Rock
Duros had heard many stories of the mages guild in Wayrest. Apparently, their guildhouse had been one of the more elaborate ones throughout Tamriel. 'Had', the Redguard vampire thought, 'being the operative word here'. Now it was just rubble. Reaching out with a simple resonance spell, designed to tell him what had happened in the not so distant past. Flashes of light filled his minds, screams of fear, pain, the scent of burning wood and spilled blood. The Redguard snapped out of the spells' vision, ensuring that the man standing beside him didn't pick up his feelings. Wayrest, High Rock
Though he had no reservations about killing, even torture, if it was necessary, the murder of the mages in the guildhouse didn't seem to have any purpose behind it. At least, none that Duros could divine. Finally, he spoke to the heavily armoured Breton beside him. "You say that one elf did all this?"
"Aye. Came into the city...Morndas, I think it was. Stayed a couple of nights, before he walked into the guildhouse, calm as can be. Then he left. Killed any guards trying to stop him, so the guard-captain says." If what the knight beside him said was true, the rogue mage was a full three days ahead of Kaast, who'd only arrived in Wayrest a day ago, a Loredas.
"What a pity." Kaast, murmured, playing the role he'd assigned himself perfectly. Wayrest, after all, was not so far from Skyrim. And if the locals realized a vampire was traipsing about their city, he doubted they'd be so cooperative. So, he'd acquired a set of robes, with the sigil of the College of Whispers on them. The Cyrodiil-based group of mages were so secretive, it would be hard to prove that Kaast was, or was not, one of their members. His attire, and an offer of assistance, had set him on the trail of the rogue.
He'd heard rumours of a Dunmer mage wandering the countryside, spreading chaos wherever he went. But until now, there had been only wild stories. Duros was careful to keep his optimism from showing on his face, keeping his outward appearance as sympathetic as possible. The knight of the Rose, one of the order that made up most of Wayrests' military strength, glanced at him, suspicion visible in his eyes.
The Redguard vampire was not overly worried, though. The knights had little reason to trust someone all the way from Cyrodiil, much less the College of Whispers . He would have been surprised if the man hadn't been at least a little wary of a curious mage. "Why's the college so interested in what's going on here? One rogue mage can't be of much concern to you."
Duros merely cocked an eyebrow, and turned back to the wreckage. "Clearly, they're more dangerous than you assume. The college has as much a responsibility to stop their progress as any Breton organization." That was a lie. The College of Whispers cared little about anything that went on outside their halls in the Imperial City.
However, the knight either didn't know that, or had decided that Kaasts' help was valuable enough to avoid alienating him. "My brother-knights are scouring the city and countryside. No sign of the man."
"It's unlikely he remained. Whatever he was after here, he most likely acquired it." With one final glance at the ruin of the guildhouse, he said his farewells, and made his own way out of the city. Once he'd put some distance between himself and Wayrest, he allowed his thoughts to stray back to his mission. Before Salthar had sent him to Karthwasten, they'd come up with an idea to ensure loyalty in the Coven. A group of vampires, selected from those that showed an above standard loyalty to the Coven, and were at least a little skilled in the use of magic.
Duros had furthered this idea by suggesting seeking out and recruiting powerful mages, willing to serve. Such individuals would be trained, and tasked with seeking out and eliminating enemies of the Coven, both within and outside. They would be held responsible to both Kaast and lord Vivarian, and whoever either vampire appointed. Salthar had approved the idea, and ordered Duros to begin recruitment of these 'inquisitors' once the allied army had been defeated at Karthspire.
Though everything had not gone to plan, the Redguard vampire was more determined than ever to see the idea become a reality. If anything, ensuring the remaining commanders and soldiers of the Coven remained loyal was more necessary than before. This Dunmer he was hunting, a powerful mage that had turned on his instructors in Morrowind, and ventured forth, destroying any that had stood in his way. Though Duros hadn't been able to discover the rogues name, he'd acquired a description from a group of mages in Cyrodiil that had survived his rampage.
Unusually tall, for a dark elf, with black hair, and the typical reddish eyes. Duros was curious about the mers' motives, certainly, but in the long run, his wishes were irrelevant. He would serve the Coven, or he would die. Of course, the Redguard didn't want an army of slaves. Forcing powerful mages to serve him would result in him looking over his shoulder for the rest of his very short life. No, his apprentices had to want the power he wielded- and a desire to learn from him, specifically. At least until he could train others under him to hand pick further members of the group. Focused on his goal, he continued on his way, heartened by the knowledge that he was on the Dunmers' trail.
4E 202, 7th of Sun's Dawn
Markarth, Understone Keep
Markarth, Understone Keep
"You did what !?" The general shouted, not caring that his voice probably carried through the closed doors of his office, to the rest of the keep. If praefect Scipio was bothered in the least by his commanding officers anger, his expression didn't reveal it. In fact, he seemed more irritated than apologetic.
"The vampires refused to surrender the village. The only option available was to destroy them. Completely. I ordered the archers and battle mages to burn down the village. Only a handful of vampires escaped."
Altus froze, aware of Lillians' sudden intake of breath. "Are you saying," he asked, keeping his voice under tight control, "that you massacred an entire village, and didn't even manage to kill all the vampires?"
A muscle in Scipios jaw twitched. "I hadn't anticipated the vampires having mages capable of flight. And-"
The general held up a hand. "Your men were too busy razing the village to notice the enemys' escape."
"Yes, but the point is, we eliminated over three quarters of the enemy force." The praefect insisted, stubbornly holding his ground.
Kathalon sighed, equally despairing the pointless deaths of the villagers, and already seeing the political repercussions in his mind. "At the cost of any continued peace with the Stormcloaks. And, the support of the jarl of the Reach. You're dismissed, praefect."
Rather than depart immediately, Scipio hesitated, before removing a roll of parchment from his belt. "There was one other thing. I had scouts search the surrounding area. They found signs of large activity. Too organized to be Forsworn."
"There was a large vampire force that fled to the mountains." Lillian pointed out, her voice thoughtful. " She looked directly at the praefect. "Do you suppose it's them?"
"It could be little else, unless the Stormcloaks have been moving troops in secret."
"Either way, it's worth investigating. And it might calm the locals." Altus pointed out grimly, rising from his seat. He still felt twinges where his wounds had healed, but he was more than ready to be out in the field once more. "Prepare the troops."
4E 202, 7th of Sun's Dawn
The Bee and Barb inn, Riften
The Bee and Barb inn, Riften
'Damn these vampires' Veridas Ashheart thought bitterly as he stepped into the establishment. He'd been halfway to the Imperial border crossing when the Coven messenger had found him. How the man had found him, was up for debate. In truth, the Breton hadn't expected to hear from the vampires again. News of their defeat, and the death of the Altmer sorcerer who lead them, was spreading through Skyrim like wildfire. None had declared the news louder than the newly formed 'paladins of Arkay'. A recently formed group, and, in Veridas' opinion, even more irritating and self-righteous than the Vigilants of Stendarr had been.
He'd been stopped on the road no fewer than three times, by the heavily armoured, and well armed warriors, who'd warned him against collaborating with the blood drinkers. When he'd read the message, Veridas had considered ignoring it. The Coven, as far as he could tell, was scattered and broken. But he was no fool. Though defeated, he didn't doubt they'd make sure to hunt him down, if he angered them. Besides, the task had seemed simple enough. Head to Riften, go to the local inn, the Bee and Barb, and collect information from a contact.
Not his usual type of work, but the message had promised double his usual fee. Once he'd nodded his acceptance to the messenger, the man had shoved a pouch, containing a number of flawless looking gems into his hands, and galloped off to the west. Now, Veridas was cursing himself for a fool. As soon as he'd set foot in the city of thieves, he'd discovered he was being followed. Not by the usual cutthroat, or pickpocket, but by a pair of tan-armoured warriors. Dawnguard. One an Orc, and the other an Imperial, by the look of him. Though the pair showed no extra interest in him, they stayed no less than a dozen metres away.
Now, before the door to the inn swung shut, he chanced a quick glance over his shoulder. Both men were hastening towards the building, gazes fixed straight ahead. With little time to spare, Veridas glanced around the common room, his eyes fastening on a Dunmer male who was staring back at him. The elf was dressed like a merchant, and though he seemed young, his hair was as white as the snow outside. And braided in a rather unique style that the assassin had never seen before.
If the merchant was bothered by the Bretons' scrutiny, he didn't reveal it, instead lifting a goblet, and inclining his head slightly. Aware of the possible consequences should the Dawnguard witness their meeting, he made a beeline for the elfs' table. "You're the contact." It was a statement, not a question. The elfs attire and demeanor made him stand out, intentionally, no doubt.
"Oh, I'm so much more than that, my good sir." The Dunmer smiled, something he obviously thought was charming, "Jeth Laralle, information broker, merchant, and occassional dashing mercenary, at your service." The name was unusual for a dark elf, though that was of no concern to the Breton assassin at the moment. Though the last part of the elves' declaration he found doubtful. He couldn't see the Dunmer doing any kind of mercenary work.
Getting to the point, he said, "I wouldn't be here if not for the first part, I'm guessing. What information do you have that's so important?"
Laralle's gaze slid past him, to the door, expectantly. "In a moment. You're earlier than expected, and my other clients are coming in now." Veridas glanced over his shoulder, and cursed quietly. The Dawnguard were on their way to the table, eyes on him and the Dunmer. "Wait over there." the elf instructed, gesturing to a shadowed corner table, not too far from his own table. The assassin scowled, and moved to the indicated table, waving away the Argonian bartender when he approached.
The Orc and Imperial arrived at the Dunmer merchants table, and began to speak. Veridas strained to make out what they were hearing. "Who was that?" The Orc was saying, nodding towards the assassins table.
The elf shrugged, " a client of mine. Much like you, my good sir. If you're so curious about his identity, perhaps you should speak with him."
The vampire hunter scowled, but his companion tapped his arm. "Not important. You know the information we want. It's been a week, like you asked for. "
Laralle extended his hand, "yes. I have the answers you and your allies have been seeking. But it was not easy to acquire."
"More coin?" The Imperial asked, incredulous. "You've already been paid a handsome amount. " He removed a coinpurse from his belt, and tossed it to him. "Now- is Vivarian dead or not?"
"Suffice it to say- you need not worry about Vivarian. For the moment, at least." Veridas thought he heard a hint of smugness in the Dunmers' tone.
"For the moment? What's that supposed to mean?" Exclaimed the Orc, crossing his arms, and glaring down at Laralle. For his part, the dark elf didn't seem particularly worried by the Dawnguards' irritation.
Jeth shrugged, "you asked for information. I have provided such. The Coven is defeated, and without a leader, the survivors are not much of a threat." The Dunmer spread his hands, palm up, "of course, if you'd like additional information, I'd be happy to oblige you. For the same price."
Both men scowled at the dark elf, then the Imperial nudged his friend, and turned for the door. "We'll be in contact if we need your services again."
"I look forward to our next meeting, gentlemen," Jeth called after them. Veridas waited until the pair had left, and he was certain they wouldn't be coming back, before reclaiming the seat across from the Dunmer.
"Does the Coven know you're selling information to the other side?" He asked drily. Though he didn't trust the elf, he had to admire the mers' courage in trading secrets to opposite sides of the war.
"Of course. In fact, that's what they're paying me for. Speaking of-" He removed a sealed scroll from his belt. " Give this to dear Lucius, would you?" He eyed the small sack in Veridas' hand expectantly.
The assassin dropped it in the mers' outstretched, coal grey hand.
"You don't seem the type to throw in with vampires." Unlike the circumstances that had brought Veridas into the Covens' service, Laralle didn't seem to be bound to the vampires in any way. In fact, the Dunmer didn't seem bound to anyone.
The dark elf undid the pouches drawstring, peered inside and smiled at the gems within. Then he looked up at Veridas, and stood. "Like every good businessman, my Breton friend, I'd rather be on the winning side."
The assassin snorted. "The Coven lost the war. You said so yourself."
Still smiling, the elf stood and made for the door. "Did they?" Before Veridas could respond, to the cryptic question, Laralle was out the door. The Breton assassin sat at his table in the busy tavern, pondering the information brokers' remark. Eventually, he rented a room for the night, fully aware that the vampires would be expecting whatever information the scroll he held contained.