(From: Chapter Four Act One: The Remaining Contenders)

Whiterun Guard: Please just make it quick.

Malkor: I'm obviously not going to kill you.

Malkor: I need someone to get the survivors. Steward Avenicci will be the last one out. If you think any are missing, assume them dead.

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(From: Chapter Five Act Three: Sovereignty)

Talen: And your werewolves? They can keep daedra out too, right?

Taeyva: I have them patrolling the perimeter at all times. My wolves are strong, but I won’t send them into a fight alone. Hit and runs, only. The daedra won’t assault the city with the risk of being flanked from behind again.

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(From: Chapter Five Act Three: Sovereignty)

Castalia: Malkor has something that could help!

Castalia: He has a strong force of dwemer machines! They can definitely take down dragons!

Malkor: Fucks sake, Cass…

Malkor: I do have dwemer automatons, it’s true. But they’re not here and I am absolutely not suggesting I bring them. Okay?

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(From: Chapter Five Act Three: Sovereignty)

Erinye: I cannot send my army out hunting for wolves, but I need to know where they are and that they will be distracted.

Erinye: I'm trusting your order to handle this. I don’t care how. Just make sure it’s done.

Underneath the orange glow of a new dawn, Windhelm stirs. The preparation for the battle ahead invigorates the city into a commotion it has not seen in many months. Every task is fulfilled with an individual’s sense of duty, but also their willingness to hope. Though their doom draws nearer with each passing moment, the apprehension is not felt.

Within the city’s blacksmith however, a tingle of anxiety starts to bloom.

Davey: Alright, Taeyva, arms out!

Davey smirks, pulling the rope between his two hands taught with a loud snap. The giddy look on his face elicits a smile from Taeyva, but also an eyeroll.

Taeyva: Really? Stop insinuating and get on with it.

Davey cocks his head in mock bemusement.

Davey: What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Taeyva glares at him staunchly, smacking the goofy smile off his face. He chuckles heartfully and takes a tentative step forward, exposing his palms and maintaining a wide berth from her as he approaches, as if she were a rabid wolf. Another glare is enough to stifle his antics.

Davey: Alright. Hold still for me.

With a nod, Taeyva extends her arms as Davey comes up behind her. He holds one end of the evenly marked rope at her shoulder, dragging the other end down to her wrist.

She swallows awkwardly, suddenly very aware of how clammy her hands feel. Is she supposed to close them? Davey did say to hold still, but her fingers are just… there. What does she do with her hands normally?

Taeyva unnecessarily clears her throat in an attempt to resecure herself.

Taeyva: So, uh, how’d you learn to make armors?

She winces as the question slips out. “Armors?” Who says it like that? She suppresses a relieved sigh as Davey answers, seemingly unaware of how stupid she sounds.

Davey: I used to live in the reach, out in the mountains. It was too much hassle to go into the city to buy armor, food, and weapons, so my brothers and I procured them ourselves.

Davey quickly measures Taeyva’s other arm before kneeling down to start on her legs. As his fingers brush against her hip, her toes curl. Taeyva urgently continues the conversation.

Taeyva: Oh wow. Me too, actually. Though I guess you already knew that. Lived in The Reach, I mean. Though I did get stuff myself, I never made armor. I had people do that for me. Well, when I did wear armor. It doesn’t matter.

Taeyva bites her lip. By the hallowed moon, what has gotten into her?

Davey: Don’t worry about that. I know wearing anything is new to you. This won’t be intrusive at all; I’ll make sure of it.

Davey marks down her measurements and stands back up. He draws the rope along her spine, spawning goosebumps.

Taeyva: Th-thanks. For considering that. Sorry, I’m just not used to being in this sort of proximity with someone.

Taeyva cringes at her own awkward apology, thankful that Davey can’t currently see her face. He responds with a warm laugh.

Davey: Don’t apologize. I know how closed off you are. I’m surprised you even agreed to this in the first place. Uh, do you mind if I come around here?

Davey ducks below her arm. He cradles each end of the rope around her waist, pausing for await a response before pulling it tight.

Taeyva shakes her head, skittishly. She averts her gaze as Davey’s arms envelop her. As the coarse rope tightens around her hips, the room suddenly grows exceedingly warm.

Taeyva: Well, I mean, I… I trust you.

She blurts out the words so fast that her lips had closed before the sound even passed them. She isn’t even sure Davey heard them but isn’t about to attempt a correction. What isn’t more than a second of silence drags on in her flustered mind.

Davey: Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What’d you say?

Taeyva shrinks into herself. She takes a gulp she immediately regrets and shakes her head.

Taeyva: Oh, nothing. Just, uh, clearing my throat.

She feels Davey’s inquisitive stare and bites her lip. To her relief, he doesn’t press her. Instead, Davey ducks back under her arm and shifts in front of her. He motions for permission before wrapping the rope under Taeyva’s arms and around her back.

Taeyva can feel her cheeks blushing now as the air around her grows hotter. She watches, tenderly, as Davey pulls the rope tight over her chest, suddenly unable to look away.

Davey: Don’t worry, this is the last one.

Taeyva nods meekly, her lips quivering.

Taeyva: Oh. Okay.

Her heart skips a beat as Davey glances up at her. His warm smile envelops her like an embrace.

Davey: But if you want, we could take a walk somewhere? Maybe in the city or outside the gates?

The invitation is alluring but brings a pang in Taeyva’s chest. The accumulated bliss suddenly vanishes as the wings previously fluttering in her stomach wither. She pulls away.

Taeyva: I’m sorry, I… No.

She averts her gaze, dreading to see the crushed look in his eyes.

Davey: Are you okay?

He stares at her pleadingly, yearning for a response. When Taeyva only offers a shaking head, he quickly steps away.

Davey: I’m sorry. I… Believe me, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just thought…

He sighs, unable to manage a conclusion. Taeyva responds with one of her own, shifting around uneasily.

Taeyva: No. It’s not you. Davey, I just… I can’t… Well…

Taeyva sucks in a breath, clenching her jaw. She slowly releases the air, settling her nerves.

Taeyva: I can never feel the way you want me to. Those chains weren’t the only thing the Vigil did to me.

She doesn’t give Davey a chance to respond. As soon as she concludes, Taeyva rushes down the stairs.

The door thuds loudly as it swings closed on its own. A gust of frigid air billows in after it, swallowing up what’s left of the warmth that had blossomed in the room.

The orange glow of dawn fades as the sun crests to its peak. At the city gates, the Vigilant of Stendarr make considerable progress on their defenses under strict instruction from Keeper Carcette.

A large wooden walkway spans the top of the narrow passage connecting the gate to the city. A vigilant already takes his place at the top, beginning to cast the magical ward around the city. Other members heft heavy lumber up and down the steps, reinforcing the supports and erecting barricades.

On the perch leading to Candlehearth Hall, Carcette issues command after command in rapid succession. The vigilant who is meant to be reiterating her plans stands awkwardly behind her with clamped lips. Carcette has clearly already memorized each step.

At the base of the platform, Dennis distributes and organizes their available supplies. It’s a dull job, for sure, but better than having to follow Carcette’s direct orders. Normally he respects her resolute leadership, but when she gets like this… well, let’s just say he doesn’t want to be the first Vigilant to make a mistake.

Dennis: 44…. 45… Are we going to have extra?

Dennis huffs and begins to recount but stops when he notices a slight shift in the alley ahead.

Dennis: I should probably invite him to help…

Dennis gestures of another Vigilant to take over for him before hopping over the lumber pile. He dons a welcoming smile and marches to the figure.

Dennis: Hey there!

 Dennis tentatively slows his steps when he notices Malkor’s closed eyes.

Dennis: Are you asleep?

Silently, Malkor opens a single eye to give Dennis an apathetic glance.

Dennis awkwardly shifts under his quiet gaze, hoping the dark elf will respond with a greeting of his own. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t. Clearing his throat, Dennis gestures behind him to the work being done, feeling significantly less confident.

Dennis: We’re, uh, working on some defenses. You should help out. Get more acquainted with the group.

He flashes what he hopes Malkor sees as a friendly smile and takes a leading step towards the gate. But instead of following, Malkor just rolls his eyes.

Malkor: Not interested.

Dennis huffs. Of course this was expected, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be frustrated. And he refuses to let Malkor wipe away his smile.

Dennis: Come on, man. We’re really trying to unite here. Like it or not, you need to as well.

Once again, Malkor rolls his eyes, but this time he does so with his head as well. Dennis falters as Malkor leers at him listlessly.

Malkor: No, I don’t. We’re not friends. I’m no more than a sword here and that’s all I plan to be.

Dennis shakes his head.

Dennis: No way.

Dennis: Look, I know you’re mostly hated here, but I respect what you bring to the table. When this is all over, we have to remake the world somehow. Don’t you want a part in that?

The two ogle one another for a moment. Malkor’s unwavering glare is enough to make anyone unsteady, but Dennis holds his ground. After a while, Malkor sighs and leans back against the pillar.

Malkor: You really have no idea, do you?

The question comes out aggressively, with hints of disappointment. Dennis tilts his head, perplexed.

Dennis: What do you mean?

Malkor finally stands up. He folds his arms over one another and props himself against the stone wall with a glare.

Malkor: What do you think happens if you win this? The dragons and daedra are defeated and everything returns to normal? I got news for you, Vigilant. It’s not that simple.

Dennis feels his brows curl in contempt at Malkor’s condescending tone. He releases an exhale to calm his nerves and responds.

Dennis: No one expects it to be simple. But we’re united now and are aware of the work ahead. And the more people we have on board, the better.

Malkor just shakes his head.

Malkor: Look around us. The world is freezing over because the Aedra gave it up. It will continue to do so until something takes their place.

He pauses to gauge Dennis’ reaction. The Vigilant stands firmly before him, a scowl starting to creep across his lips as his fists start to clench. But he keeps quiet, a cue for Malkor to continue.

Malkor: You’ll have to worship daedra, Dennis. And with the way things are going, your only choice will be Hircine and the other Daedric Lords who have taken his side. Do you really think everyone will stay united? Do you really think I, a follower of Boethiah, will ever have a part in that?

Dennis clenches his jaw.

Dennis: So you’re saying it’s pointless then? We should just give up? No way. We’ll do what’s needed, no matter what.

Malkor scoffs.

Malkor: Really? Your group of obstinate Talos Worshipers, vampire slayers, and daedra hunters will discard their ideals and worship daedra?

He shrugs.

Malkor: Taeyva seems to think so. Her plan to win you over through friendship and loyalty has paid off so far. But there’s a reason she’s an exception, Dennis. Because she’s the only one who refuses to use the most reliable method.

Dennis responds to Malkor’s bitter stare with one of his own.

Malkor: Subjugation.

Malkor turns around and closes his eyes, returning to his place propped against the wall.

Malkor: So no, I won’t help out. Because I have nothing to gain from that. Now fuck off.

Dennis curls his lips. His chest starts to swell as slew of retorts hang on the edge of his lips. But he keeps his jaw clamped shut, his teeth groaning under the pressure.

With revolted scowl replacing his former smile, Dennis whips around and stomps away. His spirit not yet broken, but now starting to crack.

Aventus: Please… Please, we can’t go on like this!

The Sacellum of Boethiah looms upon the cliff side east of Windhelm, persisting in its perpetual state of shadow. A temple, a grave, and now a monument. Erected to embolden a cult of blood and deceit, the altar now rests in seclusion. Its followers dead, its influence forgotten.

It’s defeat a lie.

Aventus: Just let us rest. I beg of you!

Aventus’ voice shakes as the pleads with the creature before him. His eyes can barely focus within the darkness, but the trembling of his extended arm is impossible to miss.

Falmer: Hrrrr…

The creature hisses the only guttural sound it ever communicates with. Spittle flies from its thinning lips, past the serrated teeth lining its pale mouth. It cocks its head, tilting it in a way as if it doesn’t know where to look, and pulls a crooked weapon from its back.

Falmer: Hssss!

Aventus recoils at the sight of the claw-like axe. He doesn’t want to join the bodies of those who’ve tried rebelling before. He cowers between his shaking arms, his voice somehow cracking through just fearful breaths.

Aventus: P-p-please… Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!

He braces for the blow, knowing his pleas are worthless. He doesn’t know if the creatures even understands him but doubts it would even matter. But then the hit doesn’t come.

Aventus: Huh?

Aventus dares to look up to notice the creature slide the weapon into its sheath on its back.

It lets out another growl, this time softer, almost like a sigh. Aventus swallows, cautiously. Did it recognize his pleas?

The thought is immediately interrupted by another threatening growl.

Another one of the monsters perched on the ledge above him brandishes its weapon. Despite scarred skin covering where its eyes should be, it stares directly at him.

Aventus nods, fearfully.

He resumes the pose in submission as the creature’s eyeless gaze gouges into him like a knife. As his head touches the altar floor, he almost thanks the divines for keeping him safe. But as the thought pops in his head, the ground itself seems to shift. He shakes his head apologetically and begins a thankful prayer to the only deity he can worship now.

Aventus: Thank you, Boethiah.

Outside the city, the wilds of Skyrim continue in a contrasting peace. The beasts living in the natural cold adapted well to the freezing world, or even not at all. The only change to their environment are the now barren roads. In a strange way, as the world itself falls apart, it’s most natural aspects are born anew.

Taeyva exited the city gate, ignoring the suggestion of the guard to remain where it is safe. She assumes he didn’t know who she is. In the wilds of the world, surrounded by the woodlands housing her werewolves, she may be safer than in the city itself.

Taeyva: I thought I’d find you here. Though, to be fair, I can sense you at all times.

Taeyva manages a faint smile despite her heavy heart as she sees the familiar werewolf.

It stands above a slain horker, jaw opened to take its first bite. At Taeyva’s interruption, it turns away and huffs, blasting hot air from its nostrils. It’s body then begins to shrink. The hairs diminish as they recede into the skin. The claws morph into smooth fingernails and joints on the feet seem to meld into one as they take the form of a heel.

Soon enough, the werewolf is gone, in its place a grizzled, old man.

Torund rolls his shoulders, stretching into his new skin.

Torund: Can’t stand cities. And the food there is ass. Want some horker? I know you don’t like raw food, so we can cook it.

Taeyva gives him a single laugh and shakes her head.

Taeyva: It’s all yours. Um, actually I wanted to talk.

Torund scrunches one eyebrow at her before marching to the pile of his clothes off to the side.

Torund: Really? I mean, sure. Not sure I’m the best at it though.

Taeyva bites her lip.

Taeyva: Did you ever have a wife? Someone you… liked?

Torund shrugs as he begins to don his furs.

Torund: There was a gal when I was young, before I was a werewolf. But I prefer to just fuck.

Taeyva sighs.

Taeyva: Yeah, that’s what I figured…

Her voice trails off as she concludes, unsure of where to go. She watches Torund wipe the snow from his feet before squeezing them into his boots. As he finishes the last one, he pipes up.

Torund: Davey’s a good lad, Taeyva. Is that what you’re worried about?

Taeyva crosses her arms. Is she really that obvious?

Taeyva: Not exactly. I mean, yes, but no.

She takes a deep breath.

Taeyva: How do I let him down easy?

Torund steps back, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Torund: Let him down? Why would you do that?

Taeyva clenches her jaw, frustrated at the direct question when she knows she shouldn’t be.

Taeyva: Because I’m busy. And we have a war to fight. I don’t have time for childish things.

Torund snorts and rolls his eyes sarcastically, earning a glare from Taeyva.

Torund: Nice excuses. Now tell me what’s really the matter.

Taeyva opens her mouth to retort but stops herself. Averting her eyes, she releases a held in breath and relents.

Taeyva: Just like you said, you just want to… fuck… That’s what everyone wants, even if they don’t outwardly show it. What’s the… How could I…

Taeyva fumbles over her own words. Even if she knew what to say, she isn’t sure she has the strength to say it. She rubs her head, as if she were trying to place the words directly into it and just says what comes to her mind.

Taeyva: What if I don’t ever want that? How could someone like me?

A despondent look falls over Torund. He doesn’t immediately respond, instead rubbing his chin, deep in thought.

Taeyva sighs and stares at her feet. She isn’t expecting Torund to have an answer, but he could at least offer something. But he’s just like her. Neither of them can express their fee-

Torund: Alright, come here.

Torund opens his burly arms wide, exposing his teeth with a warm, yet goofy, grin.

Taeyva steps back. A dumbfounded laugh escapes her attempts to resist as she beholds the uncharacteristic display.

Taeyva: What are you doing?

Torund: I’m offering a hug, dumbass. Get over here!

Taeyva glances at her surroundings, as if someone could be watching, before scurrying into his open arms. She presses into his chest as her dainty frame is swallowed by his brawny embrace.

Torund: Don’t worry so much.

Taeyva leans into the hug, feeling her beating heart slow to a calm.

She smiles as the comfort alleviates her. It’s different from the other’s she has felt. It’s not like the bond with Talen nor the bliss with Davey. This is steady, unwavering. A reliable ease that is more durable than any other. No matter how hard she tries, she could never break this.

And she never will.

Taeyva: Thank you. I didn’t think you were capable of that.

Torund guffaws at the remark and rolls his eyes.

Torund: We could both say that. I guess there’s hope for us yet.

Torund: The offer’s still available if you want some horker meat. Though you’ll have to cook it with magic or something.

Taeyva: Easy enough. You’ll do the rest though. I don’t like the skinning process.

Torund plops next to his kill and grins.

Torund: Fine by me. I know the best parts. We can-

Taeyva: Ah! Torund!

The sudden shriek tears Torund away from his monologue. He rapidly leaps to his feet, drawing his warhammer as he bellows furiously.

Torund: No! Taeyva!

He doesn’t wait to assess the situation and charges towards her. At the base of the rock face, Taeyva is struggling with a hooded figure pounced atop her back.

It mangles Taeyva’s hair in its clawed gloves as it attempts to yank her head back. Taeyva struggles to fight back, desperately trying to free her hair from its grip with one hand while pushing the figures head away with the other.

Taeyva: Argh!

Unable to pry it free with her hands, Taeyva bends low and arcs her torso around. The momentum knocks the creature loose, sending it sprawling out before her.

Taeyva: Get off of me!

It manages to right itself midair, barely landing on its feet. It lifts its head, flashing vivid red eyes and hisses. Torund doesn’t slow at the sight of two prominent fangs.

Torund: Die, vampire!

With unnatural speed, the vampire springs to its feet and lashes out with its claws.

Caught off guard, Torund barely manages to avoid the blow by blocking the vampire’s arm with his weapon. He takes the opportunity to skip backwards, swinging his hammer over his head and back down on the vampire as it lashes at him again.

Yet as the weapon descends on it, the vampire simply leaps over it.

Torund: What the-

It extends its arms outwards, seemingly unphased by the sun as it sparkles across the metal claws. At the peak of its ascent, the vampire suddenly crosses both arms, claws extended towards Torund’s neck.

In a desperate dodge, Torund leans backwards and slides under the vampire as the claws pass inches from his face.

He skids to a halt on the opposite side as the vampire lands gracefully behind him.

Taeyva: Torund!

He looks up and gasps as Taeyva takes a firm stance above him, magical flames already roiling in her hands.

Taeyva: Duck.

Torund obeys, diving low as he stumbles out of her way. He clambers to a stand just as a shrieking scream engulfs his ears.

Vampire: Aaiieieee!

A flicker of flame ignites on the vampire’s robes, instantly accumulating into an inferno that devours its body. As soon as the scream begins, it dies as the vampire’s skin and clothes melt into a charred husk.

Torund blinks, speechless, as he watches the spectacle.

Torund: Holy shit.

As the fire fades, he turns away, already indifferent towards the defeated foe.

Torund: What just happened?

Taeyva ogles the smoldering corpse, her expression stiff.

Taeyva: What happened is we got attacked by a vampire. In broad daylight.

She faces back towards the path to Windhelm.

Taeyva: We need to tell the others.

Talen wanders through the streets of Windhelm late into the morning. He hoped to get an early start to aid in preparations but was more exhausted than he realized and slept in for the first time in months. Upon collapsing into the furs of his bed, sleep overtook him in seconds. Which by itself isn’t abnormal. A day doesn’t go by where he isn’t completely drained by the end of it. What was different this time was that the sleep actually lasted. No nightmares, no awaking in a sweat. Just a dreamless, restful sleep.

He takes the long way to the gate. Under a clear sky, the air outside is warmed by the present sun. Though Talen wouldn’t describe it as “warm”; he’d call it “not chilling”. Still, it’s worth appreciating.

He follows the sound of clattering of metal and grinding steel. As he comes to the forge, Talen takes a look at the blacksmith’s heavy eyes and sunken cheeks, feeling an inkling of guilt for his long rest. He provides an appreciative smile as the blacksmith pulls a smoldering ingot from the flames, which isn’t returned. Awkwardly averting his eyes, Talen rounds the corner and notices another dreary figure, slumped over atop the steps.

Talen: Davey?

 He tilts his head inquisitively as he approaches his downtrodden friend.

Talen: Hey, man. You alright?

Davey looks up and smiles the same optimistic smile, however it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Davey: Oh. Hey, Talen. What’s up?

Talen chuckles blithely and shakes his head.

Talen: That’s my line. You don’t look like yourself. What happened?

Davey sighs, defeatedly. He drags himself to his feet, immediately closing his eyes and shaking his head with displayed regret.

Davey: I’m just a klutz. I was measuring Taeyva for her armor and pushed her too hard. She literally ran away.

Talen: Really? Well, that’s more emotion than she normally shows, so…

Talen attempts a quizzical smile as Davey stares at him dejectedly. Humor isn’t going to help Davey now, especially when it’s at his expense. Talen shrugs off the tension and gestures back to where he came from. This isn’t the kind of work he planned on doing today, but it may be the kind he’s best suited for.

Talen: Come on, let’s talk and walk.

Davey looks almost startled by the invitation.

Davey: Oh, uh, okay.

Talen: We both know Taeyva has some feelings for you. She doesn’t let just anyone get as close to her as you do.

Talen: If that weren’t the case, I’d say let it go. But don’t. She’s not pushed away by you; she’s pushed away by the situation.

Davey stares at him, unconvinced. He sighs.

Davey: I don’t know. She said she can never feel the way I want her to. All I want is for her to feel how I do.

Talen is taken aback at Davey’s uncharacteristic lack of confidence. This is the guy who dangled Mike off the side of Fort Dawnguard and took on a daedra without a second thought.

Talen: What if she thinks you want something else? Maybe she’s unsure about your intentions and suspects you’re after something.

Davey rolls his eyes.

Davey: What, like sex? Believe me, if I wanted that, I wouldn’t need to try so hard!

Talen: Well, it’s not like you aren’t after that.

Davey shakes his head as the two share a genial chuckle, though his is the first to end. He comes to a stop, his smile gone, and scratches his head, doubtfully.

Davey: What am I supposed to do then?

Talen shrugs, meekly. He wishes he could offer a straight answer, but Taeyva’s as elusive as her werewolves.

Talen: Just take it slow. She’s spent her life talking to animals. Giver her time to understand human relationships and I’m sure she’ll come around.

Davey nods, solemnly.

Davey: Yeah, you’re right.

Guard: Talen, sir!

A Windhelm guard rushes towards them, his voice urgent but not panicked. He skids to a halt before them, kicking speckles of snow into the air.

Guard: You’ve been requested in the Palace for an urgent meeting. There’s been an attack.

Before Talen can respond, Davey gasps and looks intensely at the guard.

Davey: An attack? Where? On whom?

The guard shakes his head.

Guard: I don’t know anything else. Just that it’s been taken care of and we’re not in immediate danger.

Talen notices Davey’s clenched fist and gestures thankfully to the guard.

Talen: We’re on our way. Come on, Davey, you can come too.

Guard: In there. The meeting has already begun.

Talen gives the guard a parting nod as he and Davey enter the Palace. He can already overhear the discussion taking place in the side room, it’s doorway flanked by two motionless guards.

Talen: Alright. Let’s go.

He enters to find out he is the last to arrive. A few glances are cast his and Davey’s way momentarily before returning to Taeyva like the rest.

Taeyva: I don’t know how. For all I know, it wasn't even an actual vampire.

Taeyva: Not only did it attack us in the sun, but it’s corpse didn’t crumble to ash after dying. What I do know is it attacked me. I have to assume it’s not alone.

Taeyva huffs, agitatedly, as she scours the apprehensive stares of her audience. She loathes these discussions, especially when she has to be vocal in one. It’s so much easier with her wolves. Little charisma is required when you can dangle fresh meat before their eyes.

Taeyva: If vampires, or whatever these monsters are, roam the forests, then my wolves have to deal with them. It’s clearly in our favor, but we can’t risk my wolves being flanked by both vampires and daedra.

Taeyva’s suggestion spurs inaudible murmuring and gulps as the leaders digest the news. Talen takes the momentary silence to enter without interruption.

Talen: Sorry I’m late. What’s this about vampires?

Davey shuffles into the room behind him, his mounting anxiety exposed by his tense body language. His eyes meet Taeyva’s, whose own expression morphs from an agitated scowl to uneasy surprise.

They each stare silently at one another, oblivious to the resuming conversation.

Davey slinks into the back corner, taking a place beside the Jarl’s steward. He averts his eyes for just a moment, returning to Taeyva to find she’s already looked away.

Isran: I refuse to believe that is a vampire.

Isran: They’ve never found a solution to that weakness. I doubt they suddenly did now. But that doesn’t lessen the threat. An enemy we’re unfamiliar with is much worse than one we are.

Carcette nods in agreement, her jaw clenched in frustration but her glare resolute and confident.

Carcette: Then we have to plan for the worst case scenario. The daedra assault the city by the bridge and won’t be ambushed by wolves.

Carcette: If the dragons can’t be dealt with, they will take out some of my Vigilant and the ward with them.

Ulfric’s gaze drops to the floor, his expression grim.

Ulfric: We have to slow them down then. Give us time to eliminate the dragons before the ward falls.

There are a couple of silent nods before Tullius raises the obvious question.

Tullius: But how do we kill them? They seemed unstoppable in Solitude, though we were unprepared.

Elisif: We were caught by surprise. They can’t be invincible, right?

Castalia: No. They are not. But we’ll need help.

Castalia continues under the suspicious glares cast her way. It’s no mystery what she’s attempting to suggest again. It may have been ignored last time, but now it can’t be. It won’t be.

Castalia: We need all the help we can get. To kill those gargantuan beasts, we will need gargantuan weapons. And there’s only one person here who has access to them.

This time Malkor doesn’t try to interject. He shakes his head subtly as he releases a quiet sigh, attempting to distance himself from the subject. To his annoyance, however, Ulfric looks right past Castalia and directs his questions to him instead.

Ulfric: Are you confident these machines can take down dragons? Can you offer any assurances it won’t turn against us? And no, your word does not count.

Malkor closes his eyes and exhales a pent-up breath. As he opens them, he gives a single, curt nod.

Malkor: Yes. Castalia is right. And yes, I can force them to recognize you as allies. If you give me the chance to.

Taeyva: No chance in Oblivion.

Taeyva hisses at her rival, her teeth bared like a wolf.

Taeyva: You’re up to something. Both of you.

Castalia tentatively steps forward, offering a pleadingly innocent stare. Taeyva can’t decide whether to treat it genuinely or not, despite her feelings urging her towards the latter.

Castalia: I know it’s hard to trust me. And especially him. But we need the help. You just have to trust me.

Taeyva grinds her teeth, refusing to relent. If only everyone else here knew of Malkor’s nature. Of everything he’s done. But even if she exposed him, it’d already be too late. Her heart sinks as her attention returns to the group, their consideration slowly leaning towards agreement.

Tullius: We’ll need verifiable proof you can turn them to our side. Without risk!

Elisif: Uh, yes. I’m with Tullius.

Isran: Agreed. And only a few machines. Even with assurances, it’s foolish to allow an entire army in here.

Carcette: I don’t like this. No. It’s too risky.

Talen: Me neither. I have to side with Taeyva on this. This is too dangerous.

The tenseness in Taeyva’s chest alleviates slightly, yet her heart still hammers furiously. Talen and Carcette took her side, but that alone won’t decide the outcome.

Malkor: Listen, I’m not for or against this. I’ll leave the decision to you all. I can offer a small force of automatons and will willingly procure them under escort, if that alleviates concerns.

As Malkor concludes, all attention turns to Ulfric. His stare is intense yet directed at nothing. Under the pressure of everyone else’s, he sucks in a deep breath and looks up.

Ulfric: I have to ensure the safety of my city and people. We must win this. No matter the cost.

Ulfric: I will allow the automatons to fight with us.

To be continued…