Within an ancient, dusty, and near ruined hall something that can only be described as a pack of ravenous beasts wearing human skin feasting on the flesh of their once brethren was taking place.
Yet to the youthful man sitting at the jagged throne at the hall's head, this was but a nightly occurrence. More refined than his... lesser servants, the brooding man wiped the tiny splotch of blood from his mouth with a silken handkerchief with all the manners of a king.
"Tell me Garan" The man speaks in a calm, soothing voice yet it is laced with authority "Have you confirmed the words of those pitiful Altmer..." He seemingly chews on the word before finishing "Diplomats?"
A well dressed, one could even say gentlemanly Dunmer pulls out a scroll with a practiced flourish "Indeed, my lord. The mortals have begun their war and I estimate it will last for enough time for the prophesy to occur."
"Splendid." The vampiric lord's lip curls up ever so slightly "And the other matter?"
"I have narrowed the position down to Skyrim's central mountain range." Garan Marethi answers dutifully.
Lord Harkon Volkihar frowns for a brief instant "Less than I desired but it will have to do." He declares "Call for Orthjolf and Vingalmo."
"Pardon my impertinence, my lord." Garan interjects "But is it wise to entrust such an important task to those two?"
Had anyone else dared question him Harkon would have no doubt been halfway through draining them of all their lifeforce by this point... But Garan had earned the closest thing the ancient vampire had to trust so he merely gave him a pointed stare "While I agree that the two fools like to play their games they are also the most enthusiastic in their pitiful attempts of currying my favor. They will serve their purpose." He states with finality.
"As you command." The elf bows and moves to accomplish his master's command.
"Soon." Harkon mutters, already fantasizing about his ages old desire.
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A broadly built Redguard bashes away an axe swing with his warhammer, pushing his opponent with his forward momentum and ending the light movement with the young lad he was training ass own on the ground.
"You are getting better boy." Isran, the leader of the newly reforged Dawnguard says while watching the young blonde slowly get up, though there is little actual praise in his tone.
The young man, Agmaer, pats his backside in a vain attempt of cleaning himself up but soon gives up and shily scratches the back of his head "Thank you sir, I promise I will not fail you!"
Isran grunts in a mix of annoyance and dismissal, something the boy gets after only fifteen seconds of dumb staring. An improvement since the previous full minute to be certain!
"Farmboys and old orcs." Isran mutters with a mix of disdain and disappointment "How am I supposed to kill those monsters with only that?" His question is mostly rhetorical as his eyes narrow with determination "No matter, we will succeed all the same."
"Done with your little ritual?" The familiar cheerful voice of his old associate startles him from behind, though it doesn't show as he turns to face him.
"Celann." Isran greets him in his usual gruff tone, one solar cloak and one deep annoyed frown later Isran speaks again "I trust you have something to report?"
The rapid muttering of 'insane paranoid jackass' goes completely ignored as Celann calms himself "RIght." The young Breton man sighs "The vampires from the castle-"
"Volkihar." Isran growls.
"I don't care what the bats call themselves, they are monsters all the same." Celann snaps.
Isran takes a long breath as to stop his own snapping response before speaking again "It is important to know who and what they are so that we may hunt them down. They are stronger than us, faster than us and more importantly far more experienced than us. Each advantage is something that must be explored."
Celann stares at him for a moment before nodding "Fine, fine! The Volhigar-"
Isran's eye twitches.
"-Have been seen leaving the castle ever since Meridia's temple was destroyed. Which was something that we expected yes, but it was only three days ago that a dozen of the creatures left for the mountains north of Whiterun."
Isran mulls the report over for a while and then questions "You are certain you were not spotted?"
"Yup." Celann smirks "I made sure to keep my distance and kept applying that odd tonic you gave me to my armor."
"Good." Isran grinds out.
He is silent for a good while his face constantly switching from pondering to frowning. Finally he speaks "If they are moving so swiftly then that means we must move in turn, yet our preparations are not nearly enough. We must recruit more people for the cause."
"We need a mage." Celann says immediately "Several, actually."
"A mage?" Isrann frowns "And where will we find the money to hire a mage?"
His Breton friend waves him off "People are going to be interested in battling the vampires soon enough, you can always promise them payment for later."
The bald Redguard immediately shakes his head "No, a mage or better yet a group of skilled mages of sufficient skill would not work for meagre pay or the promise of it."
"And what about that one that killed Potema resurrected?" Celann asked "He seems like the sort that would go against the undead considering he is also the Court Mage to the High King." Before Isran can respond Celann raises a finger upwards "It is also said that he has his own force of lesser mages under him!"
"You forget that he is also rumored to be the one that destroyed Meridia's temple and thus causing this entire mess." Isran adds.
Celann smirks "All the more reason to contact him!" He spreads his arms "Think about it Isran, he would probably feel responsible and has the power to openly defy a Daedra."
Defeated by his comrade's vicious use of facts and logic Isran sighs (even the sigh sounding gruffer than necessary) "Very well, bring me the messenger bird and I will invite him."
"But of course your captainship sir!" Celann salutes and runs off.
"Correction." Isran mutters as his comrade leaves him "Farmboys, old orcs and children." Yet even as he grouses there is a glint of amusement in his eyes.
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(Reyvin's POV)
My heart beats in my ears as I force myself into doing yet another pushup. I gasp as I allow myself to fall onto the floor and forcefully roll around while staring at the ceiling.
Two months had passed since the war had begun... and since I was reinstated as Court Mage. Ever since that moment the world seemed to move at an increasingly hectic pace, leaving me to spend my days either reading reports, discussing plans or preparing for the battles to come.
The war was going pretty close to what we had predicted earlier. Most of the early skirmishes were still occurring in Falkreath as the forces of the King battered it from the west and north while the Imperial Legion had recently begun their incursion across the Pale Pass.
When I heard about the low number of soldiers they sent to aid us I almost broke something but I understood that the current Emperor was no fool and he would use the resources he saved from the civil war to contend with the Dominion.
Still frustrating however.
The Stormcloaks had also acted in a manner we expected. Raids and skirmishes erupted across all of the hold borders but it was all still kept on a small scale with only dozens of them engaging in battle at a time.
The only really large presence of their troops was noted to be in Falkreath as they were trying their best to delay imperial reinforcements for as long as they could while they attempted to fortify the forest hold.
A foolish venture but I guess Ulfric was more focused on bleeding us than preserving his own forces. Those young lads he managed to recruit with his propaganda had to get blooded somewhere, right?
Speaking of recruits, my house was slowly growing in size with about a dozen more Mer swearing themselves into my service while a couple hundred of the less combat inclined Dunmer that escaped Windhelm entered into my employment instead.
Winterhold might get crowded soon and I will also have to make sure it doesn't turn into another cauldron of hate and racism before Ulfric tries to use the situation for his own devices.
As for my own advancement, I focused mostly on perfecting my large scale destruction magic. I had reached the rank of Master when I completed the ritual but I still lacked the spell repertoire to truly make it count, a weakness I cured promptly.
During the days after the events in Solitude I started to feel drowsy and unmotivated. Much like many years ago depression seemed to try and sink its disgusting claws into me but I would not allow such a thing to happen. I understood that I fucked up beyond repair and someone else paid for it, I also lost someone very close to me, but that did not mean I would permit myself to wallow in self pity and worse yet, self blame.
So I decided to do the closest thing to what I did back then. I threw myself into training both physical and magical, exhausting myself at the end of each day and reveling in the constant improvement my unbound status permitted me.
And so I found myself in my manor, just before midnight, staring at the ceiling and covered in sweat.
"Done for today, Serjo?" The voice of my maid, Alissa, brings me back to Nirn.
"That I am." I say and deactivate the resistance ward I had set up to help me with my training. I take the towel from my obviously excited maid and start wiping myself "Anything happen while I was busy?"
She stares at me absent mindedly for a moment before quickly shaking her head "Sera Karsus wanted to talk to you about a message."
"Oh?" I tilt my head "Did he say it was urgent?"
"He did not but he did seem confused about its origins." She explains.
"Hmmm..." I hum for a moment and then shrug, with a snap of my finger all of the sweat is gone and I am fully clothed in my robes "Thank you for your service Alissa, I will be going now."
The maid seems almost reluctant as she notices I am suddenly clothed but merely bows as I leave.
Moments later I am entering my office where Karsus was currently busying himself writing down some notes on my ever expanding business.
"Alissa said you had a message for me." I say in lieu of greeting.
My Steward nods and points his hand toward my table, still scribbling all the while "Yes my lord, it is right there on the table, the scroll with the sunburst crest."
I leave to his work and grab the scroll while scanning it for magic fuckery. The emblem the scroll is sealed with causes my eyebrows to raise in both surprise and annoyance "Already?" I mutter too quietly to be heard.
'To: Court Mage Reyvin Flame-tongue
Your spat with Meridia has had its consequences, the Volkihar clan is rousing and we are in need of your assistance to combat the undead threat.
Signed: Isran, leader of the Dawnguard'
'As terse as I expected him to be, but I do not begrudge him his attitude in his line of work.' I hold the scroll aloft for a couple of moments longer before I speak to my Steward "Call for Davos, Nightshade and Alor. It seems a change of plans is in order."
The Dunmer gets up immediately, leaving me to my ever spiraling thoughts of the future.
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Isran got some stones, not for long tho.
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