4E 202, Hall of Vigilants
Keeper Carcette
The air inside her office was cold despite the early spring thaw. Winter had come and gone quickly this year.
A sharp wind from the northern pass had slipped through the stone walls like an unwelcome guest, whispering through the curtains and stirring the parchment on her desk.
Carcette sat in silence, her left arm resting gingerly across her lap. She reached down and picked up a simple steel dagger with her right hand, eyes narrowing in concentration. With effort, she transferred the hilt into her left, attempting once more to lift it.
For a moment, it hovered—barely a few inches.
Then the pain returned in a searing flash.
"Damned blade," she hissed through clenched teeth as the dagger clattered to the floor. The pain radiated from the wound like fire laced with frost, twisting up her veins and into her shoulder. Her fingers curled involuntarily, trembling as she cradled the arm back to her lap.
Whatever curse from the Mehrunes' Razor still remained.
They had tried everything. Restoration magic from their finest clerics, potions brewed by master alchemists, rituals of purification led by the most devout among the Vigilants. Even Tolan's desperate gambit—channeling a Stendarrian rite older than the White-Gold Concordat—had barely slowed its progress.
At least the spreading had stopped. The black veins that wormed their way from the gash had halted just above her elbow. It wasn't actively getting worse, but neither was it getting better.
She rotated the limb gently under the light. The skin was pallid, gray-tinged, veined in black like spiderweb cracks beneath the surface. Useless for casting. Useless for anything, really.
She could still fight with her right hand, though her skill would take a major hit from the inability to move her left.
The presence of the Dawnguard and the Solitude Guard were the only reason they were not routed. Captain Aldis and his men were the ones responsible for holding the line so the Vigilants could make that final push against the Mythic Dawn.
If it weren't for them, Carcette couldn't imagine how that whole attack would've gone.
Over a hundred and twenty men died in the attack. Eighty vigilants—a mix of veterans and initiates—fourty of the Solitude guardsmen, and Agmaer of the Dawnguard.
The boy's name hit hardest.
He had died fighting a Dremora Lord, allowing Carcette to push through and engage Ruma Camoran in battle to disrupt the Oblivion Gate. Sorine had wept over his body when they retrieved it.
Despite the losses, she could gladly call this a victory. A majority of the Mythic Dawn acolytes are dead or captured, and over four hundred of the Dremora perished in the fight.
The one blessing in this catastrophe was that the Elder Scroll had not fallen into enemy hands. Isran had been right. The attack was a diversion. That foresight of sending Gerron and Serana with the Scroll may have spared them all from something even worse.
Isran had left for the College of Winterhold to meet with them months ago. Gunmar and Sorine had left for Fort Dawnguard under orders from Isran, bringing the body of Agmaer with them to be properly buried.
This attack by the Mythic Dawn only proved that the Vigilants, by themselves, had no chance to combat the rising Daedric threat by themselves. Which is exactly why this next meeting was important.
Ulfric's steward, Jorlief, had arrived just a day ago with a contingent of Stormcloaks and requested a meeting. The situation in the Hall of Vigilants turned quite dicey since the presence of the Stormcloaks sent members of the Solitude guardsmen on edge.
Thankfully, she and Tolan managed to keep things at peace. And Captain Aldis was willing to adhere to her orders. Loyal to a fault, he was.
Carcette let out a breath, long and slow, as the door opened behind her.
Tolan stepped in first, his grizzled beard slightly patchy from the cut that now spanned his lower jaw. His armor still bore scratches from the last fight. Behind him came Captain Aldis, his Solitude cloak neatly pressed, though his eyes were red from sleepless nights.
And last came Jorleif, the steward of Windhelm, draped in fine Nord furs, a bear insignia pinned to his shoulder, the symbol of Eastmarch and the Stormcloaks.
Aldis bowed first. "Keeper."
"Captain." Carcette nodded in return. "Tolan, you've spoken with our guest?"
"I have. He brings word from Windhelm." Tolan gave her a slight nod, then stepped aside.
Jorleif clasped his hands together and inclined his head respectfully. "Keeper Carcette, thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I'll keep this brief, given the state of things."
"Please. Speak freely."
The steward of Windhelm sent Aldis a glance before leaning forward. "Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak has been in discussion with the Dragonslayer himself—Gerron Ironbreaker, as I believe you know him. Together, they have come to a proposition: a Peace Summit, held at High Hrothgar, where all Jarls of Skyrim may meet in neutrality to forge an alliance against the dragons... and the Daedric threat."
Carcette raised an eyebrow. "Ulfric Stormcloak wants peace? And Gerron has agreed to this?"
"That is correct. The Dragonslayer has pledged to speak with the Greybeards and the Dragonborn in hopes to have them host the summit."
Aldis and Tolan shared a glance.
Carcette put her right hand to her chin. "What do you think, Tolan?"
"We've already seen what allies can accomplish," he said gruffly. "If the Solitude Guard hadn't been here, we'd be burning rubble. Mythic Dawn would've taken us apart. But with an army behind us... a true force united under one cause... we could stop this madness at its source."
Carcette considered that. She tapped her chin with her right hand, careful not to jostle her wounded arm.
Captain Aldis spoke up. "Has news of this been sent to the other Jarls?"
"Yes." Jorleif replied. "Missives have already been sent to the other Jarls across the province. If it is agreed upon and the Dragonborn sends word, the meeting will be held on the first day of Rain's Hand."
"That's in three months." Tolan affirmed.
"Which will be enough time for everyone to consider the proposal and make preparations for the trip." Jorleif stated.
"And you ask us to attend this summit?" she said.
"Not only attend," Jorleif replied. "But to serve as neutral guardians. The Greybeards are powerful and respected, but they are a peace-loving people. The Vigilants of Stendarr, with your oaths and reputation, can help maintain order at the summit. Act as peacekeepers, enforcers of balance."
She leaned back in her seat with a thoughtful expression. True enough, if all of Skyrim could be united for the coming conflicts, that would mean a big enough force that could potentially deal with Alduin, Harkon, and Calixto in one swoop. Having Gerron already agreeing to the terms made this much easier.
Aldis spoke up. "Me and my men can stay and hold the Hall, Keeper. We'll continue purging what remains of the Mythic Dawn cults in the region. But the Vigil's voice should be heard at the summit. You and Tolan must be present."
Carcette smiled faintly. "You'd do this for us?"
Aldis straightened. "I've seen the threat with my own eyes. When the Empire and the Stormcloaks were busy warring with each other, it was the Vigilants that kept to their oaths and protected those that mattered. Let us repay you in kind."
She bowed her head, touched.
Then she turned to Jorleif.
"Tell Jarl Ulfric... that we agree to the summit. Tolan and I will come to High Hrothgar. We'll stand for peace—and for Skyrim."
…
4E 202, Mythic Dawn Headquarters
Arenea Ienith
"You've done well, Calixto," Mankar Camoran's voice echoed from the far side of the chamber. The stone walls of the dungeon made his tone sound deeper, more regal than it truly was. It grated on Aranea's ears.
She opened one swollen eye, glaring up through a curtain of dark hair at the two men who now discussed her as if she were nothing more than a curiosity. She knelt in the center of a cold, filthy chamber—no bigger than a storage cellar—her wrists shackled to the ceiling by rusted chains that bit into her skin. Her robe, once a symbol of her faith and dignity as a Priestess of Azura, had been stripped and replaced by ragged scraps that barely clung to her bruised frame.
She felt blood dry at the corner of her mouth. Her lip had split in the last interrogation. Her body ached from repeated beatings, but her spirit remained untouched. The light of Azura still burned within her, quiet but unwavering.
She knew enough of who they were. The Mythic Dawn, Mankar Camoran and Calixto. She had seen them in her visions, for Lady Azura had given her the ability of foresight.
"I should've killed you on the mountain," Aranea muttered hoarsely.
"Oh?" Calixto said with a smirk, sauntering closer. "You think yourself fearsome, do you? You're nothing but a mouthpiece for a fading Prince."
Aranea chuckled, the sound bitter and low. "And yet here I kneel, unbroken. How many mouths have you silenced, butcher of Windhelm? But you cannot silence mine. Champion of Dagon you may be, but you shall always remain that weak man who hunts on the defenseless in the streets of Eastmarch."
"Enough," said Mankar Camoran, holding up a hand.
The leader of the new Mythic Dawn stepped forward. The man who had orchestrated the events of the Oblivion Crisis himself. Calixto may think himself important, but it was Mankar Camoran who was the true threat behind all this.
"Aranea Ienith," Mankar said, voice steeped in false civility. "Priestess of Azura. One of the Chosen." He gestured lazily with a gloved hand. "You tend the shrine of a Prince in the mountains. And yet, the stars have aligned. You are a key."
"I will not be used in your mad schemes," Aranea spat. "May you all repent in the deepest, hellish parts of Oblivion where you belong."
"A charming woman, aren't you?" Mankar said with a smile.
Calixto let out a dark chuckle. "Oh don't worry. We don't plan on asking nicely. There are many ways to make you talk..."
He reached into his belt and pulled out a blade. Aranea felt her breath hitch.
The weapon was cruel and jagged. Ebony in color, but something about it made her soul recoil. Even without touching it, she knew what it was.
"Mehrunes' Razor." She said, "A vile weapon for a vile man."
"Let's see if Azura's visions still come through screams," Calixto grinned.
Aranea steeled herself. She closed her eyes, preparing for agony to come. She was a devout follower of her Lady, and no amount of pain would make her break.
Then came the voice.
'Your devotion is heard and admired, Aranea. But you will tell him what I wish for him to hear.'
Her eyes shot open, breath stolen from her lungs. 'M-my Lady Azura?'
The response came, soft as moonlight. 'Yes, my dear. I am here. I wish for you to tell the Champion of Dagon what I shall show you.'
'Why… why reveal anything to them?' Aranea's thoughts were clouded by pain, confusion, desperation.
'You have seen what is to come, my dear. But not all truths must be avoided. Some must be delivered. Even to your enemy.'
The voice was firm, yet gentle. Aranea found all her worries washed away.
'As you wish, my Lady.'
Aranea's body shuddered, then went still. Her back straightened. The light in her crimson Dunmer eyes ignited, glowing with divine light. Her ragged form seemed to swell with presence, as though she no longer knelt alone.
Mankar paused. Even Calixto took a cautious step back.
Aranea spoke. But the voice that left her lips was not hers alone.
"You wish to know the future? Hear now, the words of Azura, the words of prophecy, of the fate of Mundus itself."
The torches dimmed. A cold breeze swept through the chamber though no windows or vents existed. Time itself seemed to hold its breath as Aranea spoke:
"A great conflict shall come.
When Dragon, Mer, Men, and Dremora clash upon the stage of a dying world.
The Divines shall tremble, and Princes shall cast their lots.
From among mortals, Champions shall rise, and two shall shine the brightest.
One shall bear the soul of a Dragon.
The other, glowing with the light of a blue star.
Dagon's Blade shall bleed them,
The Black Dragon's roar shall drown them.
But remain standing they shall forever be.
Unyielding, undying, unbroken.
So speaks Azura, Prince of Twilight, of Dusk and of Dawn."
The light faded from her eyes.
Her head slumped forward, breath ragged. The chains groaned as her weight pulled at them, but she did not resist.
"A prophecy…A true one." Calixto blinked and exhaled.
Mankar turned toward him. "You recognize the signs?"
"Of course I do," Calixto said, licking his lips. "The Dragonborn and the one with the blue star. It must be the one the Vigilants whisper about… the Champion of Zenithar. I shall make them bleed," he grinned. "Heroes of legend, falling to my blade…"
"It is possible, but we shall not be hasty." Mankar rubbed his chin in contemplation. "Prophecies are fragile, often misleading. We should not make assumptions too quickly."
"Whatever it may be, I have to prepare." Calixto said. "For all my power, I'm not arrogant enough to think I can defeat the Dragonborn as I am now. It is time I truly master the gifts Lord Dagon has given me."
Calixto turned without another word and strode from the room, a manic gleam in his eyes.
Mankar stared at Aranea a moment longer. Then he too exited, the heavy iron door shutting behind him with a booming clang.
Darkness fell as the silence returned.
The cold returned with it. But Aranea was no longer afraid. The vision had come, as her Lady had promised. The path was being laid.
'Do not worry, my dear Aranea. Someday, you shall be free. Be patient and wait. Now rest, my dear. Rest and recover your strength. I shall talk to you again soon.'
Aranea smiled faintly, blood and tears mingling at the corners of her mouth.
'Yes, my lady.'
And with that final thought, she let herself slip into sleep, dreaming of stars upon the night sky.
…
AN: More of a set up chapter where we look back at what the Vigilants and the Mythic Dawn are up to.
The Vigilants won the fight but they didn't come out unscathed. Isran had mentioned it a bit, but Carcette has weakened from her injuries.
Aranea Ienith is the Dunmer Priestess of Azura that you could find when doing the Azura quest line in the game. When I read her wiki page, she was actually quite the interesting character and made for the perfect Champion of Azura.
We'll jump back to Gerron and the aftermath of the College of Winterhold after this.
More chapters on my Pat_reon! A whole 10 chapters ahead! Chapter 58 should be available by the time this chapter is posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!