Early in the morning on the 19th of Sun's Dusk we departed the city, weaving our way through the rolling vineyards and wineries that seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon. Between Skingrad and Kvatch the Empire's wines were made in almost industrial quantities and while some wineries were famous throughout Tamriel there were many unnamed vintages that were indistinguishable to their fellows. After travelling for hours and still not leaving the sprawling fields of vine trestles I could fully understand where the old saying of "being as difficult as finding a sober man in Skingrad" had come from. If it wasn't for the finely maintained aqueduct and fountain systems in the city, wine would've been easier, and cheaper to drink.

  It was nearly a full week's journey from Skingrad to Anvil, a long, bone wearyingly distance that took us through the deserted and burned region around Kvatch. The lush vine filled floodplains of County Skingrad eventually shifted into the rolling and rocky vista of the Kvatch plateaus, filling the land with barely harvested wheat fields and cattle farms that were noticeably bare. Most locals had decided to travel away from the blasted ruins of what was once a proud city on top it's spire of stone. The smell of destruction still lingered over the area almost like the fine layer of ash and soot that had long since washed into the grasses and shrubs in the weeks since the siege. Although the ruins still stabbed into the sky like a broken, rotted molar there was obvious signs of life tenaciously holding onto existence and carving their lives into what little remained.

  What was once a populous trading city in a prime strategic location was a blasted husk like a cracked open tomb, but it would not remain that way for long. From every direction in the opposite of the original exodus of refugees; newcomers from throughout the Empire were making their way to the destroyed city with the promise of a new beginnings. In a steady trickle, dozens made their way there every day, and we found ourselves following the stream of trading caravans and colonists making their way to Kvatch.

  Halfway through our journey we stayed overnight in the ruins, being made welcome by the hundreds squatting in fire blasted homes and businesses that had been reclaimed from the devastation. Our identities were impossible to be kept secret and within minutes both Viconia and I were reconsidering staying in the city overnight as once again we found ourselves the centre of attention in a steadily growing celebration. Within hours of our arrival, alcohol was flowing freely and music began to echo through the rubble and deserted streets and we found ourselves the toast of the few thousands who were making this city their home. The central plaza in front of the Cathedral of Akatosh was the ad hoc central district of the city, and at any time the senior representatives of the city and the Legion could be found in their respective headquarters.

  Titus Mede; the young centurion whose cohort I had fought with in the retaking of the city was the senior officer and now commanded two full cohorts who were permanently stationed in the city for the foreseeable future. He and his men immediately made Viconia and I welcome and it wasn't long before the grizzled Savlian Matius made his appearance as well. These two men were now the most powerful individuals in the county. Centurion Mede was the highest-ranking representative of the Legion since his Legate's departure for County Anvil, and Savlain Matius by the decree of the Elder Council had been made Count until such time as they found a more suitable replacement. From what little conversations on the subject I had overheard it appeared that there were no nobles rising to the challenge to claim the shattered and burned city and the weakened county as their own. As a result, the ex-guard commander was left in a semi-permanent seat on the elder council, a signet ring hanging from the leather strap tied around his neck and the full weight and responsibility of a city that still stank of fire and sulphur.

  The celebration would continue into the early hours of the morning. What surprised us however was that it was apparently a daily occurrence for those undertaking the lengthy reclamation process of the city to party late into the night. All of those who had chosen to stay and the hundreds arriving every week would work from sunrise to sunset, demolishing ruins, and scavenging what they could before spending the evening drinking and celebrating life in all its forms. The level of death and destruction that surrounded everyone meant that the only two choices they had was to fall into the pit of bottomless despair, or instead find some reason to continue with their lives. Reports of other cities such as Ald'Rhun suffering similar fates only seemed to galvanise them further in their efforts to reclaim and rebuild and every day another street or building would be cleared, and scaffolds stabbed into the sky in random growths of wood and metal. Against all odds in a city where nine tenths of the population had died or fled and only one building out of every eight was still suitable for habitation, those who remained were making it their personal duties to scorn the daedra with every fresh brick laid into mortar.

  I found myself surrounded by Savlian Matius, Titus Mede and a handful of legionaries dressed in labourers clothing for the early hours of darkness, sharing pints of freshly brewed mead and beer. Somehow against all odds a single brewery had miraculously made it through the siege intact and had been responsible for ensuring that a large portion of the population were nursing hangovers every morning. Between the small group of us we had a healthy amount of alcohol to share between ourselves where one of the legionaries sat astride a barrel of mead, and it would be rare that our flagons would run dry.

  Viconia had initially disappeared, choosing her own company over that of myself and the hard-bitten soldiers of the Empire. It wasn't long until I caught glimpses of her threading her way through the throng of dancers filling the plaza and causing the ground to spasm slightly in tune to the music. Over a dozen bards and musicians were playing enthusiastically, some in small groups where their voices and instruments played in sync, and others either directly competing against their fellows or providing individual tunes to the crowds. While our group sung along to whatever songs we knew or simply pounded our knees or feet into the ground to the beat I found myself entranced at the sight of my companion actively taking part in the growing numbers of dancers. She wore a flowing dress similar to the one that she habitually wore in Skingrad but this one was less revealing due to the cooler temperatures of the plateau.

  Strikingly lovely in the flickering torchlight, she danced and twirled with her elfin agility and outperformed professional dancers as she lost herself to the crowds and music that throbbed in the darkness. Each twirl and spin was perfect and I caught glimpses of smooth ebony flesh where the dress rose up and showed a substantial amount of her toned legs. From several metres away, the scars and old wounds were unnoticeable in the flickering light and it was obvious from the looks and increasing catcalls and whistles that I wasn't the only one taking notice.

  "You might want to pick up your jaw there lad." Savlian murmured through a raised flagon, choking with mirth as he saw my expression.

  The legionaries around me laughed and at least one hand left a stinging slap across my shoulder blades. I felt almost at home amongst these men and it was strangely enough to make me feel homesick for fort Ironhand.

  "I think it'd be better if I stopped looking instead." I replied, twirling my skinning dagger in my fingers in a rippling motion that one of the nearby legionaries seemed more entranced in watching. "She's like staring at the sun; after a while you'll end up blinded."

  There were further laughs from the group, especially how they knew that the statement was surprisingly accurate with her personality. Titus and I knocked our flagons together and knocked back further mouthfuls of potent brew but it was obvious that both of us were watching how much we consumed. While technically a superior officer he was obviously not one for remaining aloof from his men, and could be found deep in the shieldwall, working alongside his men with his sleeves rolled up or keeping up with even the hardest of drinkers. He was very close to my own age, but handled himself like a forty-year veteran and had the utter support of those under his command.

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  "You have to be the luckiest bastard in the world to have her." he said simply, grinning and swaying only the very slightest.

  "We travel together and watch each other's backs." My response was honest, and I again felt the strange clench of yearning deep in my belly. "We aren't 'together' as such."

  One of the legionaries looked over to me with a look of surprise plastered over his face. "I would question whether you had balls," he slurred drunkenly, rolling his head between me and the sight of Viconia stirring the desire of every hot-blooded male in the crowd. "But anyone who willingly steps into Oblivion is no craven."

  "Maybe she just needs a real man?" another spoke up, even more drunk than his brother-in-arms.

  "If you think you are real enough, you can be my guest." My reply seemed to hang in the air for a few minutes as they all looked at me in shock but they hadn't seen what I had. Ever since she had started dancing a few drunk individuals had been gravitating towards her, each building the courage to approach the gorgeous drow and all completely blind to the threat that such actions posed.

  I snorted into my mead as one grabbed her from behind in what he must've thought was a sure-fire way to win her over, his hands grasping in all the wrong places. There was a moment of shock that rippled through those closest to the two of them, accompanied by various hoots and snickers of amusement from the onlookers both in the crowd and where I was seated.

  For Viconia's part there was the slightest moment where she froze at the intrusion of the man's hands against her body but with a twirl she turned around to face him, staring into his eyes almost as though they were lovers of many years. There was a smile on her face as she wrapped an arm around his neck, sensually moving her body in time with the music and for a moment the rushing waves of jealousy nearly made me rise to my feet until I saw the look in her eyes.

  The stupefied expression of lust and success on the young man's face was suddenly and violently removed as she rammed her forehead into his nose and twisting and jamming knees and fists into various parts of his anatomy. In less than a second he had gone from staring into her eyes, to flopping on the ground with a silent scream of agony, mouth gaping open and closed like a beached fish and unable to decide which damaged part of his body to grasp at. Instead he chose to curl into the fetal position, soaking himself in the sudden expanding pool of vomit as he voided the contents of his stomach.

  Myself and every other male who witnessed her reaction winced and quite a few of us instinctively clutched at ourselves protectively. The groper remained on the ground, those around him stepping away from his prone form and from Viconia's obvious anger. She twisted away from the groaning individual, stepping over him like he was excrement on the stonework of the plaza and strode over to where I was seated with fury radiating from her like an aura.

  With a grin I looked over to the legionary and nodded in her direction. "You want to try?"

  He shook his head definitively and I laughed as she stomped over, ignoring the looks that she was receiving the entire way. I didn't say a word, instead reaching over to the barrel, refilling my flagon and handing it over to her.

  "Why must everyone test my patience?" she asked as she sat down heavily on a barrel and knocked back a mouthful of mead.

  "The world is full of idiots." Savlian replied, leaning back and grinning. "Although the Nine in their infinite wisdom have decided to spread them throughout the lands to ensure that we encounter a few every day."

  There was a muted laughter from the group as they all thought of what she had just done to the fool who grabbed her. It was highly likely that it would be the last time that individual did anything similar for the rest of his life after nearly being castrated by her.

  "So what awaits you both in Anvil?" Titus tossed over a spare flagon that I caught neatly and refilled.

  "Guild business with the fighters. We're travelling between cities and doing what we can."

  "Hopefully nothing as exciting as the last time you both found yourselves in Kvatch."

  "Hunting Minotaurs and goblins is somewhat quieter than fighting daedra." Viconia's expression was dark as she stared daggers in the direction of the twirling crowds.

  A legionary raised his mead in a toast. "I heard of your successful hunt. That was rather impressive."

  "You heard about that already?" I glanced over my shoulder to where he too another mouthful before wiping his mouth on the back of a dusty sleeve.

  "Indeed. Killing a minotaur titan? That sort of news travels fast."

  "Unfortunately, bad news seemed to travel faster." Savlian replied soberly. "There is a lot of bad news as of late."

  "Daedric invasions and cities burned to the ground. Banditry of the rise and provinces being wracked with unrest and insurrection."

  "And everywhere the Legion stands idle." Titus' expression was sombre as he placed his flagon on the ground. "Not that every trouble can be solved by throwing the legion at it."

  "Like what happened in Anvil."

  My ears picked up at the sudden tone of voice from the legionary and I looked over the small group as they looked disheartened, some making various signs of the Nine with their free hands.

  "What happened in Anvil?" I asked, seeing Titus and Savlian glance between themselves and me.

  "News arrived this morning." Savlian said briefly. "Apparently the Cathedral in Anvil was attacked. Casualties were heavy, and no one knows who was responsible or why it happened."

  Titus had his sword out now was idly spinning the blade with the point on the stones at his feet. The tiny chiming of metal was audible over the increasingly boisterous crowds. "All the priests, the acolytes and anyone else present were apparently slaughtered like cattle and the shrine to Dibella was desecrated. By the time the guard arrived everyone was dead."

  "And no one saw a thing." The shrug that Titus gave me was half hearted and about the only time he had appeared unsure of anything. "Personally, it stinks of daedra but it doesn't fit in with all this."

  He gestured with an open hand to the ruins and I nodded. "Well, it definitely sounds like that we'll be keeping ourselves busy there in any case."

  "No rest for the wicked?" There was a chorus of laughs from the others as we clinked mugs and flagons together.

  Their words were troubling but in the light of the increasing daedric power and the overhanging end of the world approaching a single cathedral didn't seem to be an overly large cause of concern. Darkness was slowly covering the lands of Tamriel but places like Kvatch were proving to be tiny pinpoints of light and hope despite everything.

  Viconia and I spent the night in the company of the legionaries and Savlian Matius, filling our bellies with mead and mass-produced alcohol and the roasted meat from one of the several spits that had been set up throughout the plaza. The festivities continued until shortly after midnight when everyone began retiring with a well-practiced routine in preparation of another day of back breaking labour. The legionaries were fulfilling both their military and civil roles in the burnt-out husk of the city; some would patrol the streets, direct traffic and escort caravans of supplies and trade goods to where they were needed. The rest could be found assisting the hundreds of other labourers as they went about their jobs of steadily reclaiming the city's fire blasted districts. The Legions were not only responsible for keeping the peace and defeating the Empire's enemies but were also the men and women who had been responsible for constructing nearly every road, highway, aqueduct and watchpost in Tamriel. The engineering skill of being able to build a fortified camp in the matter of hours was put to good use in demolishing and tearing down crumbled ruins, stacking mounds of salvaged building materials and clearing paths for the hundreds of others. Used to a harsh life, the dozens of legionaries were able to provide aid far beyond their few numbers; each soldier able to perform tasks and labours equal to four or five civilians through the daylight hours. Of a night they would drink themselves insensible, crawl into their bedding and awake with the dawn for another day of work and toil.

  Keeping ourselves with mostly clear heads come dawn, both Viconia and I rose with the sun and found ourselves bidding farewell to yet another group of individuals aware of our identities and fame. I doubted that I would ever be comfortable in being recognisable and there were many times where I wished I could fade into obscurity with as much ease as my vampiric ability of vanishing into the shadows.