Chapter LXXVIII: Professional Help
A dark skinned man dressed in expensive clothes collapses next to me, his pants thoroughly soiled, and the guards utterly disinterested in aiding him, as I walk down the familiar streets of one of my favorite cities in the province.
"And what exactly are we doing all the way in Whiterun?" Serana asks dubiously.
I turn to her with a conspiratorial grin "Why grabbing a couple hunting dogs of course."
It takes her only a short moment to catch the true meaning of my words and she fails to keep the immediate scoff of disdain from leaving her "Werewolves... How great."
"They may be furries but they are also pretty useful in a fight." I shrug easily.
A silent moment of walking later I nearly stumble as I hear her ask "Reyvin, what is a furry?"
'Gods damn me and my big mouth.' Ignoring her question for both her sake and my own I keep walking toward the funny upturned boathouse that the Companions called their home.
I was not originally planning on involving the mercenary order in my expedition but seeing as the larger part of my people traveling all the way from Solitude would still take some time to reach the destination Dexion pointed out I could take the time to get some professional help.
The rest of my people and the unit of Dawnguards were already waiting there, courtesy of Scorch simply carrying a slab pre-carved with my mark and recall sigil. While I could use 'blind' teleportation at this point, doing so over long distances and while taking others with me was... less than advisable, so I still stuck with the old tried and tested method. Less limbs lost that way.
I suppress the shiver that threatens to go down my spine at that particular memory and push open the beautifully carved double door in front of me, the rambunctious air of the place slamming into me like an avalanche.
That and the smell of spilled mead of course.
Much like the previous times I've visited, the whole place goes completely quiet and all eyes snap to me, a couple of chairs already getting pushed back and scraping loudly against the floor as my friend gets up the greet me.
"Reyvin!" The massive form of Durrak covers much of my vision as the jovial Orsimer practically blurs in front of me "Finally got some time to visit, eh?" He doesn't bother waiting for my reply and envelops me in a bone-crushing hug.
I tap his back a couple of times and he backs off with a knowing grin on his face "It is good to see you too Durrak." I smile and before he can react he finds himself on his ass, his movement giving me the perfect opportunity to push him without even moving my hands.
Many of the companions laughed uproariously at the display, our friendship was a well known fact to them and it could be said I was a friend of the order for my previous deeds, not to mention my usual reputation. How quickly people forgot their hatreds and prejudices when it suited them...
"I am guessing you aren't here just for a drink?" My deceptively observant friend asks as he gets up in one fluid movement.
"Indeed." I nod with a smile "I am here with a business proposition, one that you will no doubt wish to hear about."
As all of the other companions quiet down even further as they attempt to listen to our conversation, Durrak's lips twist into a cruel grin "Come with me." He turns without waiting and heads toward the basement, the groans of his fellows following him all the way.
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"So, Durrak. Care to tell me how the Companions are doing? Still hunting the Silver Hand?" I ask as we descend into the ancient halls of Jorrvaskr.
Durrak's mood sours immediately "They are annoying bastards to hunt down. I got a couple of their bases using your people but they rarely seem to have the time to help these days."
I shrug, a lightly apologetic expression on my face "I do have a war to win, my friend."
"Yeah, yeah." He waves me off "I understand, it just frustrates me how they hide like rats and still pretend to be righteous."
"Aren't they though?" I ask, much to his confusion and surprise "Do they not preach that the ancient order of Ysgramor's Companions was overtaken by Daedra worship and monstrous beasts?"
Knowing that I wasn't actually siding with his enemies Durrak simply groans "Why must you complicate things like this every time? We are the good guys, they are the bad guys, it should be that simple."
I roll my eyes "Yet it never will be."
The grumbling orc huffs and opens the door to the Harbinger's rooms, Serana and I following him within.
"A friend returns to our halls." Kodlak looks up from a report he was reading, his old eyes meeting with my own with the same composure I remembered, even as his body looked thrice as withered as before.
"Harbinger." I incline my head ever so slightly "You've seen better days."
He huffs raspily "And water is wet." The old man deadpans as his eyes scan Serana, the question of her identity wordlessly implied.
I nod at this and clear my throat "Allow me to introduce Serana, an ally in my current task, and a dear friend." That last part I add as I notice the old man's eyes narrow at her appearance. She may look completely alive but those who knew what to look for could still recognize the signs of someone being a vampire and Kodlak was an old hand in this work.
"I see." The old man tugs at his beard, his fingers twitching and his thoughts no doubt racing, he shares a look with Durrak to which the orc simply shrugs eliciting a chuckle from his order's guide "Please, take a seat both of you." He gestures after a moment.
"My thanks for the hospitality, young man." Serana gives him a toothy grin.
I facepalm, loudly, and all suspicion leaves the two Companions as they each direct a half hearted glare her way.
"I would never dare disrespect my elders." Kodlak deadpans and turns back to me "Now what is this I hear about a business proposition, Court Mage?"
I hummed lightly for a moment, debating the manner of my presentation for a brief moment before simply deciding to be honest "I am organizing another expedition, pertinent to the current vampire crisis bothering the good people of Skyrim, and while I do possess well trained troops for the endeavor some elite warriors would no doubt go a long way to reduce casualties among my subjects." Before he can comment I raise my index finger "I will only be accepting Circle members for this one."
"You certainly don't ask for much." The old man hums "There are a few members present, I trust you are in something of a rush, no?"
"Indeed, Harbinger." I nod "I need them ready as soon as possible and will provide transport myself."
"Hmmm..." He caresses his beard and pretends to think "They would need to rush preparations, drop anything else they planned on doing, enter a hazardous place with no prior information..."
His words slowly trail off as my face turns into a complete deadpan "Whitemane, I am literally one of the richest nobles in the fuckmothering province, just have them pack up and ready to move."
There is a brief moment of complete silence before the two Companions burst into a fit of laughter, the obvious twinkle of amusement in the old man's eyes disarming any irritation I might feel at their behavior.
Before the hour was through, my forces were four Circle members stronger, and I many thousands of septims poorer.
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The space around us cracks and we appear on the western end of the province, the hills and mountains of the Skyrim Reach greeting us with their serene, if snow covered, beauty.
My appreciation for the landscape is thoroughly crushed as I am surrounded by groans and even the sound of retching coming from my furry companions, Durrak and Aela being disoriented and somewhat confused by the rapid change of environment, the twins on the other hand were both barely holding themselves from throwing up their breakfast.
Vilkas is the first to compose himself as he glares at me and rasps "I thought you said it would be painless."
"I did." I nod with a cheeky smile "I did not say it would be comfortable though."
"Farkh you." He groans, and continues staring at the ground while breathing heavily.
Considering the ruckus they were all making, it did not take long for my people to notice our presence and for Davos, Nightshade, Isran and Valerica to make their way to us, the mere presence of the latter causing the now fully composed eyes of Aela to narrow imperceptibly.
It takes me a bit of talking, but after a while the grumbling companions and my suspicious vassals and allies accept each other's presence without too much of a fuss. Oddly enough, it was Nightshade who was hardest to make get on with the plan as her frothing hatred for all things Ysgramor transferred partly to those who followed the man's legacy.
She did look far too gleeful when I described the mercenary order in the same manner I did to Durrak earlier today.
Hours later, our scouts returned with Dexion, whose eyes were now free of any light. They told us of a sealed passage in the mountain cracking open as the priest approached, the ominous entrance of which led into a vast cave system.
I tried healing the old man without hesitation, even as he assured me that it was no big loss to him, and found that his sight was almost but not quite conceptually removed, I felt as if it was possible to give it back to him but I was nowhere near capable enough with healing to do so.
Good thing I wasn't dumb enough to read the scrolls myself then.
As they finished their report I declared that we would wait for everyone to arrive before descending into the caves. It did not take long for those that liked to partake in drink to indulge themselves for what could very well be the last time in weeks or months, I ran a rather tight ship and drinking when a fight could start at any time was a big no no.
A full day of waiting and relaxation later I felt space next to me distort and one silent pop later for Shalazar, in all his magnificent glory, to appear beside me with an excited glint in his eyes "Greetings mortals!" He squeaks at the bewildered lesser beings gazing at his radiance.
Before anyone from the ranks of our more excitable allies can even think of pointing a weapon at him I raise a hand "Everyone who isn't already aware, allow me to introduce Master Shalazar from the college."
As my words reach them they all visibly relax, save for Serana who still remembered the absolute terror of daring to question the greater being in whose presence she was permitted to exist.
"The rest are close?" I ask my fellow archmage as the rest return to doing their own thing.
"Indeed." He squeaks "In fact they are about to crest that hill in tree, two, one..."
And as if he orchestrated the whole thing, which he did, my people emerge on the horizon.
A hundred halberdiers marched in mostly perfect lock step, their blackened steel armor still in pristine condition and their blank masks still unmarked by battle, or at least that went for the new recruits.
The veterans among their number had their armors carved with runes, and their masks twisted into the visage of Dunmeri saints, a number of them adding plumes of differing configurations to their morion helmets, and almost all of them hanging a short triangular banner from the tip of their weapons.
Behind them marched the hundred or so of my braver non combatant subjects, all of them surrounded by automatons made of the same material that shielded my warriors, many of said constructs shaped into the form of a cart and walking with no outside aid or direction.
Yet what drew most eyes was the small group of Falmer, their gold and white robes contrasting harshly with their mostly darkly dressed Dunmeri counterparts. Each of the Falmer magi was armed and armored with silvered moonstone, the material barely weighing any more than their robes, the pride of their dead race evident to all.
And to top it all off a distant roar reached my ears as Krein announced his presence to his master.
House Dagoth marched to war, and woe betide the pathetic fucker that dared provoke our wrath.
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A stone for our brave warriors!
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