We made our way out of the ruins back into the courtyard where, true to her word the sun was beginning to break through the clouds and smoke and allow shadows to flit and race across the ground. Despite all my instincts and unease I forced myself to stand utterly still as a patch of light rolled across with the clouds, illuminating me in the sudden warmth. Unlike the previous days were my skin would feel hot and tingle as though I was quickly becoming sunburnt there was now nothing out of the ordinary. I stood there with my hood and coif pulled back into a mound of metal and material at the back of my neck, feeling the heat and light with no difference as I had over the dozens of years of my life. The inexplicable fact that I could exist in the sun flared a tiny whickering flame of hope in me before the now-constant desire and lust for blood scratched at the back of mind, sated for the moment but ever present like the beat of my heart.
The enormous cathedral was the largest building within the city, even despite the loss of the upper levels of its belltower. Giant and bronze the broken bells lay in amidst the rubble where they had fallen, their voices now silenced and their cries replaced with the minor tolling from the handful of others scattered through the city in the smaller chapels and churches. The cathedral had been a beacon of hope in amongst the terror and devastation and dozens, if not hundreds of survivors had found themselves inside during the daedric invasion, ushered in by the handfuls of priests that lived within its massive stone walls. Thick, unyielding and as strong and formidable like the city fortifications it had stood resolute as the daedric hordes had spent hours unsuccessfully attempting to gain entrance and slaughter those inside.
Stained glass windows depicting saints and Aedra were shattered, their crafts that had stood through wars and plagues for thousands of years now nothing more than shining gemstones of glass on the ground. The doors were pitted and burnt but still unbroken and nearly every piece of furniture inside had been used as makeshift ramparts and barricades to block the daedra from entering. Viconia and I made our way inside against the steady of flow of people coming out to feel the sun’s warmth and see what remained of their city, but the numbers that remained inside were humbling.
Like most other major cities, especially within Cyrodiil, enormous crypts and catacombs were built underground and could only be accessed from inside the cathedral. It was in these cold musty depths that dozens of survivors had been steered by the priests and where they had been safe and mostly unaware of the devastation that had occurred on the surface. Kvatch’s catacombs were enormous due to the nature of the city and the towering mesa that it had been built on top of, and as a result most of the survivors had spent the entirety of the siege near their ancestors and those whose lives had preceded them. Even though a majority of them were leaving the building a lot still remained and the Legion had turned the cathedral into a combination of a homeless shelter and hospital. Healers trained in the art of restoration and a handful of Battlemages, identifiable in their legion plate and coloured hoods made their way through the press to where they were needed. Others, such as surviving city guards who had been lucky enough to be inside the cathedral when the city fell made their way through the press of civilians, carrying wounded and what little supplies were available for distribution. The sounds of crying and weeping and the groans of wounded echoed alongside softly spoken prayers and even the sound of a choir in the far reaches of the massive structure.
Viconia and I almost went unnoticed, the press of people and the mutual suffering of all those present meant that they all had other things on their mind despite knowing of the deeds of the “Hero” and “Heroine” of Kvatch. A few made eye contact with us as we carefully moved through the dozens around the interior of the main entrance but few seemed to recognise us. A weary looking Redguard merchant, his overweight body squeezed into a set of brigandine armour saw us and touched his fingertips to his forehead, lips and heart in one fluid motion with the same amount of respect and deference as a Breton would knuckle his forehead or a legionary tap his fist against his chest. I nodded my thanks and noted how despite the fact that he was not a soldier in any interpretation of the term, he had a well-used sword scabbard at his side, a fresh series of scars down his arm and his armour had been rent by some collection of daedric claws. He had obviously chosen to be among the few to fight for the city even despite his shortcomings and I knew that there would be hundreds of other such individuals who had stepped up to the challenge of Kvatch’s darkest hours.
One of the brown robed priests made his way through the press and I hurriedly followed, lengthening my stride until he was close enough to hear me amongst the babble of noise echoing within the expanse of the temple.
“Can I help you my son?” he asked, looking at the two of us with the expression of someone who had seen far too much but wasn’t allowing his mind to dwell on any of it.
“We’re looking for someone and trying to find anyone who can help us.”
“Many of those here have lost friends, family and loved ones, but I will help where I can.”
“The man we are looking for is a priest of your order.” I replied, eyes still roaming the press for anyone who might stand out. “His name is Martin but we have no idea whether he survived or not.”
There was a smile, honest if weary. “He lives, and in fact there are a large number of those here who owe him their lives due to his actions. He’ll be about here someplace.”
I gave the priest my thanks as he motioned for us to follow after him as he weaved through the people sitting, standing or moving about on the tiled floors. There were entire families and countless individuals within the expanse of the cathedral’s interior, most sitting about calming children or staring blankly at nothing. Others ate what little supplies they were given and even in one spot a gaudily tailored bard stood with an extremely batted lute and softly played it with reasonable skill. The instrument appeared as though he had used it as a club and the bloodstain up the front of his tunic attested to the fact that he might have been of far sterner stock than the usual travelling minstrels. At one point I had to step to one side to not have a small group of children run into me as they played tag between the adult’s legs. A Bosmer child, less than 5 winters old chased after a Khajiit cub and a dark-skinned redguard toddler of roughly the same ages, their laughter raising the spirits of those around watching them. All of us adults could easily marvel at the resilience of youth but despite knowing that these children would be plagued with nightmares for quite possibly the rest of their lives, for the moment they knew nothing more than the simple pleasure of playing with others.
“If it wasn’t for brother Martin most of those here would be dead I believe.” Our escort briefly paused and motioned throughout the room and sighed. “While everyone else was panicking and fleeing he was as calm as though he was going for an evening stroll, walking about and directing everyone inside even as the city began burning.”
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I pushed past a small group, seeing the expressions of surprise at Viconia and my appearances in their midst as I listened to the priest. “He was so calm, ensuring that everyone in the plaza came inside and as the groups fleeing the daedra coming over the walls started arriving he made sure they made it to safety as well. I am proud to say that he almost singlehandedly led the defence of the Cathedral. It was his ideas that allowed us to barricade the doors and windows and I saw him at least twice rally the groups defending them to push the daedra back. The tally of the dead would be far higher without his leadership.”
We followed the priest to where a collection of individuals were being treated for their injuries, the undressed form of a legionary among them with the black legion mark visible above a broken elbow. A handful of robed healers and priests of Akatosh were amongst the wounded, changing dressings and healing with tiny glows of magicka or simply soothing fears with words and conversation.
“Brother Martin?” our escort said, and I saw how one of the grey-robed acolytes of Akatosh turned and rose from where he was talking to one of the groups before us. Quickly excusing himself from the conversation he walked over, exchanging a bow to our escorting priest and looking at us somewhat warily but with obvious recognition.
“I heard how you both helped the guard and singlehandedly closed the remaining Oblivion gate.” He said, voice soft and strangely soothing. “This city owes you a debt of thanks.”
“I guess we both will have to get used to acknowledgement.” I replied, feeling strangely sheepish at his attention even as I studied his face intently. There was an obvious resemblance to the Emperor but only if you knew to look. “But we didn’t come here for that.”
“Really?” as he spoke I was becoming more and more convinced that this man was the one we sought. “I doubt anyone has travelled expecting to find themselves in Oblivion and saving the survivors of a city, but in that case what did you come here for.”
“We came looking for you, unless there are any other priests here named Martin?”
“I’m the only one by that name and yes I’m a priest. You two don’t look like you need a priest and even if you were I don’t think I’ll be much help to you.” His expression suddenly hardened as though carved from granite and I could see the tremble of barely contained rage run down the length of his body before it was supressed. “I’m having trouble understanding the gods right now. If all this is a part of a divine plan, I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with it.”
The more I studied his features and even the way he spoke and held himself made me entirely sure that we had found the man we had come for. He had the same facial features, the same build and especially the same piercing eyes that stripped you down layer by layer and left nothing hidden from sight. My scrutiny didn’t go unnoticed though and those eyes roamed over the both of us with growing suspicion.
“God’s or not.” I replied, motioning to not only Viconia and myself but everyone within the cathedral. “We need your help.”
A bitter laugh was initially all I got in response. “If you came to me for help, you’re more of a food than you look. Take a look around, what good is a priest amongst all this?”
“We’re not here looking for a priest.” Viconia said from beside me, looking thoroughly disinterested and increasingly bored. “We’ve come for you.”
The look of unease in his face seemed to build and I could see his scrutiny intensify. “Looking for me, why would you come looking for me?”
“We’re working for the Blades.” I replied and saw the unmistakable tremor of fear shake him to the core for a heartbeat before he regained control over his emotions with an impressive amount of will. “You are Uriel Septim’s son and we came to get you.”
The expression of fear was suddenly replaced with outright disbelief, and a suspicious amount of relief that was unusual in itself. “Uriel Septim, as in Emperor Uriel Septim?! You think the Emperor is my father?”
He shook his head and turned to walk away. “No. No, you must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer.”
“The daedra came here for you.” I stated simply, watching as he stopped in mid motion with the look of a man who knew more than what he was letting on. It felt exceedingly strange as I openly voiced my suspicions though. “It’s a little overkill I know, but razing an entire city to the ground to kill one man is an efficient way of doing it.”
For a second he was stunned, looking around and obviously taking in the sights and smell of death and destruction that we were surrounded by. “All this death…. Because I’m believed to be the Emperor’s son?”
I nodded simply, seeing the strength suddenly deflate out of him as he looked between the two of us. “You… You aren’t lying. Either of you. It… It’s strange… But I think you might actually be telling the truth. What does all this mean? What do you both want from me?”
“We were contracted to take you back to safety. Back to the Blades near Chorrol.” Viconia said. Giving me a shrug as I glanced at her. “it was meant to be a lot easier than this.”
He looked at her almost as though he was seeing her for the first time. Her beauty was incredible to the point of distraction but it struck me as though that he was used to seeing past external appearances and personalities. “You destroyed the Oblivion Gate, they say.” He said simply, chewing his lip and rubbing at the stubbled goatee with a grimy hand. “You both gave this city hope and helped to drive the daedra back.”
There was a definite pause as he thought deeply and thouroughly before speaking again. “Very well.” He nodded. “I’ll come with you. How soon do you plan to leave?”
“How soon can you be ready?”
His glance around the room spoke measures more than simple words ever could. This was his home and now like many of those around us he would soon be leaving it all behind to an unknown future. In his case however he was going with a pair of total strangers to a destination not of his choosing. “I’ll gather my things and meet you near the gate in an hour. There are some goodbyes I need to give first.”
“Pack lightly but prepare for a lengthy journey on foot.” For a moment I wondered just how exactly we were going to escort a priest through the depths of the Great forest or even by a road bound to be clogged with refugees. Instead I noted the way he straightened his back and I could see that he was not a pampered man of the cloth and had a body well used to exertion. “Between the two of us we’ll have everything we need to get to Chorrol but it’ll be a rough couple of nights.”
“Nothing as rough as the last two nights I believe.” The three of us grinned at his words and I gestured to Viconia and myself. “I’m Kaius by the way, and this is Viconia.”
“I know of your names. There isn’t going to be a soul within the county by the time the sun sets who hasn’t heard of your actions here and at least I know that you’ll look after me. I doubt I’d be safer surrounded by an entire legion than escorted by the two who braved oblivion and saved a city.”
He must’ve caught the sudden look of embarrassment that I failed to crush and gave a knowing smile. “I won’t be long.” He promised, nodding thoughtfully to the two of us before turning and moving through the press.
“Did you see that look he gave you when you said we were working for the Blades?” Viconia muttered, rising a shapely eyebrow and folding her arms after he had disappeared itno the priests’ quarters. “That was fear if I have ever see it.”
“You saw it too?” the sense of disquiet building inside of me could not be squashed. “Just what we both need, another traveling companion with secrets to hide.”
“Nindyn xuil szeoussen shlu’ta veldri byrren.” She replied. “Those with secrets can hide others. He might be a little strange but I doubt either of us have to worry about him.”
“Meaning you trust him more than me.”
The glare I received was almost burning with intensity. “Your perception, as always is humbling Jaluk. One must wonder how you ever managed to make it this far.”
“And your faith in me is a comfort that keeps me warm at night.” I turned on my heel and began making our way through the press. “Let’s go get ready for the trip. I want to be away from the city before we make camp tonight.”
“As you wish, veldruk…” she spat, her icy glare ever present as she too followed after me into the sight of a city filled with death and fire.
