Tarthas kept his hood up as he passed the guards. His reflection now unnerved people. His irises were not emerald green anymore they were black as a night’s sky though no stars shone from them. Thus he kept his hood low. How long would it last? They had turned black before, usually in high stages of stress. The Elven Gardens District was, he noted, quite lacking in gardens. The Arboretum was much more abundant. What it didn’t lack, however, was grandeur in Aylied architecture. Sharp Archways and impossible walkways above the city proper.
He finally found Luther Broad’s Boarding House, crates lay ramshackle outside of the small door. Fly Amanita grew in cracks of the white paving. Softly, Tarthas opened the door. For what was an attempt at a cheap inn it was quite dull and dark, to the human eye. For him everything was as clear as a crystal glass.
“Have you read the latest Black Horse Courier?” The barkeep asked a man in rags who was sipping an ale of a black kind.
“Naw, haven’t gotten a penny yet spare to git anytin but an ale an’ a bed in this shithole of an inn.”
“If it weren’t for that coin I would have just taken the key to your room. The latest news is that Bleaker has been brutally slaughtered. A mass murder of a horrendous scale, no survivors but a little girl, Babette the news said her name was. She died within the hour of their talk.”
“When was this?”
“Last night!”
“Damn those courier’s are good. Last time I git me ‘ands on one of those leaflets was when that damned Gate opened in Kvatch.”
“Kvatch is saved. A hero shut it. Ah! A new customer! Seeking a night to rest brother?”
Tarthas did not take his hood off and just wiped his boots on the doormat. Still armed to the teeth and not showing his face unnerved the two men. Tarthas walked over to the bar and sat down with a stool in between him and the patron.
“Wait a second, that green leather! He’s the Hero of Kvatch!” the bartender exclaimed.
“N’ how’d you know that he wears green feckin leather eh?” The patron asked suspiciously.
“Because I can feckin read. And no feckin Breton wears feckin wood elf feckin leather other than Hero of feckin Kvatch.”
Something twitched in the shadowy corner by the door to the basement. The twitch turned Tarthas’ head in a snap. The twitch stood up and out of the shadows walked Baurus, the youngest bodyguard of the late Emperor Uriel. He was trashed, thick purple circles hung under his sleepless eyes. It was clear that he had blamed everything that had happened to the Empire on himself. The emperor and the finest Blades had died on his watch.
He passed Tarthas quietly whispering, “follow me,”
Tarthas did as he was told and followed the Redguard up the steps to his room. It was what he expected, two stools and a bedroll. Empty bottles as well as broken ones scattered the floor. The glass crunched under his leather boots.
“Sit down. Don’t say anything. Just do as I say.”
Not wishing to argue, he sat down on the other stool. It creaked and was close to breaking point.
“Listen. I’m going to get up in a minute and walk out of here. That guy at the bar will follow me. You follow him.”
The half-blood gestured for Baurus to go ahead.
“Remember to wait for him to follow me, I want to see what he’ll do.”
Baurus walked out of the room. Tarthas slowly followed staying as much out of sight as he could. Baurus walked past the man at the bar, avoiding eye contact or even looking in the poor man’s direction, he opened the door to the basement and walked down, leaving the door partially open. The patron followed him, not saying a word. Tarthas took that as the cue and took silent chase.
The man conjured the cultists’ armour and a daedric dagger. Tarthas was faster. He drew his sword, because of the ring of the silver blade, the assassin turned around. Though it was too late and the wrong idea in the first place as Tarthas thrust his sword straight through his armour and chest. It took him no effort anymore; he was inhumanely strong.
“Search his body. I’ll keep an eye out, in any case of his friends being nearby.”
Cautiously he fumbled through the assassin’s sash. Neatly tucked away was a small unassuming book titled “Mythic Dawn Commentaries V. 1”.
“Good work. I am glad to see you again. You just caught me at a bad time.”
He did not look away from the curious book, “What have you learned?”
Baurus paced around the cellar as he spoke, “The assassins who killed the emperor were part of a daedric cult known as the Mythic Dawn. Apparently they worship the Daedra Lord Mehrunes Dagon. I’ve been tracking their agents in the Imperial City. I guess they noticed”
“I hate to be the bringer of bad news. However, the enemy has the amulet.”
“Well, fuck!”
“All is not lost. I found the lost heir; Martin Septim.”
The Blade lifted his hands to the ceiling “Thank Talos he lives! Martin Septim you say… we will restore him to the throne as is the duty of the blades.”
“What’s next? I was only told to find you.” He said impatiently.
“This Crisis has made you cold, Breton.”
“Thirsty too. You didn’t answer my question, Baurus.”
“There’s a scholar at the Arcane Univeristy, Tar-Meena, supposedly an expert on daedric cults, bring that book to her. See what she can find out. In the mean time I will be running down leads on this Mythic Dawn network. Meet me back here when you have something I can work with.”
The half-blood left without another word. As he walked down the streets of the Imperial City an altmer stuck out of the crowd, he had an orange aura around him and his eyes glowed. Instincts told him he was a vampire. In daylight! It meant he had fed recently. Primal urges wanted him to slay Molag’s aberration, however he had other crises to deal with. One vampire in a city of thousands was not any of his concern. The arcane University was a miniature cope of the capital, a circular wall with rooms, dormitories, studies and labs built into them surrounding a tower; the archmage’s tower. An argonian in blue University robes walked across the grounds as well as guards wearing blue hoods, the empires battle mages. He walked over to the argonian woman. In the raspy argonian tone she asked what his problem was.
“Tell me about the Mythic Dawn.”
Her green lizard eyes widened in understanding, “Ah, you must be the contact. The Mythic Dawn are one of the most secretive of daedric cults. Not much is known about them. They follow the teachings of a certain Mankar Camoran, whom they call the Master. A shadowy figure in his own rights.”
He took the book out of his pack and handed it to her, “I found this book, what can you tell me about it?”
“Ah, yes “Commentaries on the Myserium Xarxes.” You have a scholarly interest in Daedric cults then?”
“I need to find them.”
She slit her already slit eyes suspiciously “Find them, eh? I won’t poke my nose any further. Official business and all that. I’m used to working with the Blades, don’t worry. Say no more.
“In any case, finding them won’t be easy. I’ve studied Mankar Camoran’s writings a bit myself, at least those that I could find. It is clear from the text that Mankar Camoran’s Commentaries come in four volumes, but I’ve only ever seen the first two books. I believe that his writings contain hidden clues to the location of the Mythic Dawn’s secret shrine to Mehrunes Dagon. Those who unlock this hidden path have proven themselves worthy to join the ranks of the Mythic Dawn cult. Finding the shrines is the first test. If you want to find them, you’ll need all four volumes of the Commentaries.”
“I’m assuming they’re not easy to get your hands on?”
“Here, you can have the library’s copy of Volume 2. Treat it gently, if you please! As I’ve said, I’ve never even seen the third and fourth volumes. You should try First Edition, over in the Market District. Phintias, the proprietor, caters to specialist collectors. He may have an idea of where to locate these books.”
“Funny that you haven’t asked him yourself.” Tarthas noticed.
“I’m a scholar in between lectures and research I have little time to visit the bookstore. I wish you luck, may the Divines watch over you.”
What would the divines think if they were watching over him now, the Breton wondered. He was about to head on his way to the First Edition when the Argonian rasped again to get his attention.
“I hate to be nosy, but you look like you have vampiric blood in your veins, has your mother consorted with Molag-Bal or a vampire?”
“What does it concern you?”
“My latest thesis is on the Volkihar Vampire Cult of Skyrim and from my readings you look like the offspring of one of their cult and a mortal mother? You’re quite fascinating. For my study, I mean!”
“What are you saying I am?”
“A damphir, the child of a vampire and born to a mortal mother. It’s… your eyes. You just awakened didn’t you?” Tar-Meena whispered in sympathy.
“What can you tell me of damphir’s.”
“Not much is known of them. From what I have read they have the physical prowess of their vampiric father yet none of his weaknesses. Natural vampire-slayers as they can detect the creatures whether they are invisible or not. Take care with your gift. It’s your birth right but to many you are as cursed as your father. Is… did your mother survive through your birth?”
“Yes, she was killed over a month ago. Murdered. By my step-father.”
“I do apologize. Now you’d better go. For now. I have more questions, I’d also like to test your… prowess.”
Tarthas grimaced at those words as he saw a green flush on the scales of her cheeks, an argonian blush.
The book store was rather empty as he entered no one other than the proprietor, there were no customers.
“I’m phintias, owner and proprietor,” the prim regduard said, “Look around. If I don’t have it maybe I can get it.”
“I need a copy of the Mysterium Xarxes”
“You must be referring to Mankar Camoran’s “Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes”, a common mistake. It comes in four volumes. The first two are rare, but you may run into them from time to time. The third and fourth are impossible to find.”
“Well damn my luck but I need volumes three and four.”
“A crying shame as I have a copy of volume three on hand, but I’m afraid it’s a special order. Already paid for by another customer. Sorry. Gwinas would be terribly disappointed if it was gone when he came to pick it up. So sorry that I can’t help you.”
“What about the fourth?”
“I’ve in my life, never seen a copy.”
Tarthas unsheathed a dagger and twirled it on his finger, concentrating oakflesh on his finger tip as not to cut himself. As the knife lost its balance he tossed it grabbing the hilt and digging it with a thock into the oaken counter. “I don’t think you understand the urgency of all of this. If you don’t tell me about Gwinas and or get me a copy of volume three at the very least this precious little bookstore of yours along with the rest of Tamriel will be as barren as the Deadlands and ruled by Lord Dagon.”
He was in no mood to be persuasive, he could see the sweat trickle down the redguard’s temple, “I don’t know him personally, but he was very eager to get his hands on Volume 3 of Camoran’s “Commentaries.” Came all the way from Valenwood! As a matter of fact, he’s already late for his appointment to pick up the book. Feel free to wait for him if you want to speak to him yourself”
Three hours passed when finally a measly wood elf in embroidered silken robes entered the bookstore. He immediately demanded in quite a squeaky voice, “I’m here for my book, Mankar Camoran’s “commentaries on the mysterium xarxes volume three”.”
Tarthas watched from the shadows of the room. Since his awakening the shadows had become his ally. Normally stealth wasn’t his art however tidings had changed. It was an asset, an ally worthy of his use.
“I have it right here for you. Keep us in mind for future needs!”
“Thank you! Thank you! I have been waiting so long for this book!”
He was making his leave when Tarthas made his move. Silently and swiftly he walked up behind the Bosmer. He grabbed his shoulder with controlled force, turning the wood elf around. Frantically he squeaked, “What do you want?”
“I want your copy of the “commentaries”,”
“Have you been following me? Leave me alone ! That book is mine!”
He tried a different approach, “Tell me about the Mythic Dawn cult.”
“The Mythic Dawn? Are you…. I mean what cult? I don’t know of any cult!” He stammered looking away.
“Don’t play stupid.”
“Very well. I can see you’re familiar with Mankar Camoran’s “Commentaries.” I know that daedric cults are not quite the thing socially, but that’s just foolish prejudice and superstition. For the adventurous, open-minded thinker, daedric worship holds many rewards.”
“Idiot! They killed the Emperor!”
“What?! The Mythic Dawn were the ones…? You have to believe me! I truly had no idea. I mean, I knew they were a daedric cult. Mankar Camoran’s views on Mehrunes Dagon are fascinating, revolutionary even…But to murder the Emperor…Mara preserve us!”
“You’d better give me that book”
“Yes. Of course! I don’t want anyone to think I had anything to do with their insane plots! Here. Volume 3 is yours. What you do with it is your business.”
“I need the fourth as well.” He demanded knowing he had the man under his control
“You can only get Volume 4 directly from a member of the Mythic Dawn. I had set up a meeting with the Sponsor, as he called himself. Here, take this note they gave me. It tells you where to go. I don’t want anything else to do with the Mythic Dawn”
“Thank you. Because of your cooperation your crimes are forgiven, both by the Gods and the Law.”
“Thank you! Thank you! I will follow a religious life! A good life, a fair one!”
Back at Luther Broad’s boarding house he located Baurus,
“You’re not easy to get hold of. What have you found out?
“Nothing much.” He teased, grinning a fanged grin “Found out how to find the mythic dawn’s shrine and you could say base. There’s just one complication, I need the fourth book and that requires going down the sewers and meeting with a certain “Sponsor” of the Mythic Dawn. I have to go alone. Just thought I’d give you an update? How far did you get with tracking the cultists?”
Baurus’ jaw dropped, “Nevermind that! You’re astounding! You are a valuable agent to the Blades! Though going alone is dangerous. You need support.”
“I do not. I am more than capable. You saw me with the Emperor.”
Baurus flinched, the Emperor’s death was touchy subject.
“Fine, go alone.”
According to the note the meeting was set up in the sewers of the elven gardens district. That’s where he headed. The sewers were un-impressive and obviously disgusting. As he traversed through them he found a tiny side room with a table and two chairs on either side. He assumed that’s where he had to head to and did so.
He sat down and waited patiently until his acute hearing picked up soft, velvet shoed feet patting towards him from the gated passage in front of the small table.
A man in a blood red robe, identical to the robes of the slain assassins entered from the gate.
“So. You want to become one of the Chosen of Mehrunes Dagon. The Path of Dawn is difficult. But the rewards are great. I have the book you seek. With it and the Master’s three other books you will possess the key to enlightenment. But do you have the wit and strength to use the key that you have been given? If so, I will see you next at Dagon's Shrine. Yes, I think you may...”
As he was speaking to other cultists entered behind him. “There is someone else here!”
“Damnit! I told you to come alone!”
The summoned their armours and maces and attacked Tarthas who had already unsheathed his sword. Out of the shadows Baurus roared taking down one of the three. Tarthas killed the other agent leaving only the Sponsor. With a swift movement his sword cut straight through the armour’s weakpoints and through the Sponsor’s lungs.
Baurus panted, “well that could have gone smoother. At least we have the book.”He grinned with triumph.
“I told you to stay out of this Baurus!”
“I can’t say I didn’t mind killing those bastards.”
“In the morning I am going to Tar-Meena and deciphering these books. Next time, do what you’re told.”
“And who are you to command me, prisoner?”
Faster than viper’s strike he gripped Baurus’ neck and held him high. “I have killed tougher enemies than you, a trained Blade is nothing. You do as I say or you might end up looking like another casualty from these assassins.”
He let go, dropping the redguard panting for breath.
The next morning he made his way to the Arcane University and caught Tar-Meena rushing to an early morning lecture. Her cheek scales flushed a brighter green again. “You returned so soon. Do you need me?” a forked tongue slipped from her toothed mouth.
“I have all four copies, I need you to decipher where I can find the shrine.”
“Ah,” disappointment was clear in her tone, “come back at noon. I should have it deciphered by then.
“I’ll wait.”
“It’s early, it’d be a long wait,. I could skip my morning lecture and help you…”she moved in closer, “occupy your time.”
“No need to skip, I’m patient.”
“Well in that case. I’d better rush off.”
Tarthas was unnerved by that wanton Argonian. But he needed her, thus he waited.
At noon the argonian came running towards him “I turned up copies of the first two volumes from my colleagues, and I spent a little time rereading them. Mankar Camoran certainly is a fascinating writer. Undoubtedly insane, but fascinating. Ah, but more to the point, it appears to me that the first words of each paragraph is significant.
“In fact the first letter of each paragraph spells out a message! Write this down: “Green Emperor Way Where Tower Touches Midday Sun.” Are you familiar with Green Emperor Way? The gardens around the Imperial Palace. Something must be revealed there at noon! How exciting!”
He had to run, and he did. With all the energy he could muster he ran straight to the green emperor way and ran from tombstone to tombstone. Finally finding something at a proper tomb; a glowing red map. He was on time! The map was of Cyrodiil with a marker on Lake Arrius. That was his destination, that’s where he was headed. To get the Amulet back.
