A/N: It's been a while! Had this mostly finished and I hit a day of writer's block on my main story (should be released within the week to those of you who follow Traveler) and figured I'd finish this up! It's a bit of a flash forward just to make the pacing a little better. It's been a while so I'll give a summary of where Staid is at now and what he accomplished in the short time skip:

After meeting with Delphine and arranging the plan to infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy in a month, Staid and Lydia return to Whiterun to meet with Jarl Balgruuf and share their plan with him (and offload a bunch of loot). He catches up with Lucia and makes sure she's taken care of, gets a little more learning in with Danica and Farengar to sharpen up his skills, and finally reaches Morthal where he gets sucked into the Laid to Rest quest.

"Stay back!" Falion warned as they neared the entrance of the master vampire's hideout. The Redguard looked decidedly unimpressed with the horde of peasants and guardsmen that came to a stop behind him. They looked uneasy at the robed figure, an outcast of Morthal. Lydia shifted uncomfortably at his side. Her hand rested on the plain steel blade that would burst aflame the moment she desired. It was her only comfort in the dark night…he'd prefer to have waited, but there was no time. If they gave the vampires even the slightest chance to mobilize they'd descend upon the defenseless town like hawks.

They'd had enough trouble with just Alva. Her and Hroggir – poor bewitched bastard, Staid thought with a grimace – had nearly ripped him open if it weren't for his Oakflesh spell. He knew for a fact now that he hated vampires. Sly, slippery, and more vicious than a wolf could hope to be. The thought of an organized group of vampires like the one Alva and Laelette were a part of gaining power over Morthal nearly terrified him. It would have frozen him in fear before he'd awoken as the Dovahkiin. Now he simply saw it as a challenge.

He'd avenge Helgi. His lips curled up into a vicious sneer beneath his mask. Lydia looked concerned (he could barely tell in the misty, humid air of the swamp) but didn't say anything. Silence was important. Vampires had keen senses and they didn't want to give them any warning. Falion had led the charge for a reason. The old wizard had already done something to several vampires they'd come across acting as sentries throughout the swamp. One moment Staid had seen a glimpse of burning orange eyes in the darkness, the next Falion had waved his hand and some vast, terrible monster had appeared behind the vampire. Scarcely a moment later there was a scream like a feral cat burning alive, a soft squelch, and a low rumble Staid thought might be laughter. Then it was deathly quiet.

Staid would be lying if he said it didn't make him feel a little inadequate. He knew exactly how a fight between him and a master wizard like Falion would go, even with the Thu'um on his side. He'd never met such a knowledgeable mage. And for their ilk, knowledge was power.

He refocused. For once, Staid could understand the mob's fear. Falion was powerful beyond belief. Magicka bled off him with his every movement, as though the conjurer's smallest twitch tore holes through planes and reached deep into Aetherius. His dark robes shone with the telltale shimmer of enchanted fabric, though he couldn't tell what the complex enchantments woven into the fibers were without time to analyze it. He had a long way to go before he could pick apart enchantments with just his eyes.

The Redguard frowned and muttered a few scrambled nothings to himself before he traced a glowing symbol into the air before him. It hung suspended, lines like blue fire weaving in and out of the complex figure, before it winked out of existence. For a moment nothing happened.

And then he felt it. A pressure so light it could be mistaken for the kiss of the wind, yet cold and harsh and alien enough to make even Staid take a step back. Lydia and the mob were ghostly white – if they got any paler Staid thought he might have to make sure they weren't the ones he was after.

Staid's eyes narrowed as the pressure collapsed into a portal that bled magicka off in great, pulsing waves. It spiked, and then two creatures he'd never seen before stepped out of nothingness.

The daedra – because that was what it had to be – was enormous. It stood at least seven feet high and nearly naked except for a skirt of red cloth and daedric metal. Not that it needed anything else, Staid thought. Its gray skin covered massive muscles that were probably hard enough to stop a sword in its tracks. Huge horns jutted from its forehead and curled viciously. Glowing red tattoos around its arms and ankles pulsed every moment or two, like it was in tune with the creature's heartbeat.

What also drew his attention were the weapons they held. The one nearest Falion (it stood slightly taller than the other) wielded a gigantic sword forged from daedric metal in its hand as casually as he would hold a dagger. The deadly weapon's spikes and curves hummed and shone with a dark, bloody red light. Its spines that made up the blade rotated slowly, curving like they sought out any flesh they could to rend and tear.

The second was a bit simpler. It didn't hold a blade, instead opting for a gigantic warhammer of shiny ebony. Its size would be enough to turn him into a pile of red mush. Staid hoped he never had to fight either of these two creatures.

He didn't miss how they both stared at Barbas, though. The dog by his side panted and sat down carelessly – not like the daedric hound was in any danger, Staid thought enviously. In the month they'd been together he hadn't seen Barbas with a single scratch or singe.

"Danxu, Bananzes!" Falion commanded. The two beastly daedra jerked to attention. Staid got the unsettling feeling that they wanted to turn on the mob and rip them all to shreds. Would his magic even be effective on these monsters? They looked sturdy enough to shrug off a fireball. His flame atronach – he'd started calling her Cinder, which Farengar could never find out about - would be shattered in an instant. "Go into the cave. Kill every combatant that you find. Leave any captives alone. Danxu, signal me when you have ensured the first cavern is safe."

Danxu seemed to be the larger daedra. It nodded and led the way into the cave, lighting its way with its daedric blade's glow. Bananzes followed closely behind it. Both of the humanoid abominations had to duck their heads just to enter the cave without scraping the tips of their curled horns against the roof.

"What are those things?" Staid finally broke the silence once the daedra had gone out of sight. He walked to stand by Falion, who allowed his presence without any rebuke. The man wasn't especially talkative. It had been hard enough to get him on this expedition – only the Jarl's orders and Agni's pleading swayed him. Staid just hoped he'd be able to press the master conjurer for some lessons after this. He was unreal.

"Xivilai, some of the strongest denizens of Oblivion you're likely to see," the old wizard said tersely. He watched the entrance of the cave like a hawk. Muffled screams echoed out, raising the hairs on Staid's neck. Every now and then he heard a wild hiss and yowl of a feral beast – it seemed the Xivilai had already run into some of the vampires. "I've used those two for decades. They're reliable."

Staid nodded along. "What others do you use?" Something struck him that he'd neglected to notice before then. He stared at Falion. "Wait! How did you summon two? I thought that was impossible!"

Falion snorted. "Nothing's impossible. Just difficult. The Twin Souls technique is a sign of mastery. I don't recommend you try it," he warned, easily guessing where Staid's mind was off to. "If you don't know what you're doing then the binding won't be as firm. There's a good chance you'll lose control of one or both and they'll turn on you."

Well, that was probably true. He tried to treat Cinder with his respect, and his familiar seemed to like him, but if they weren't bound by his will then the daedra would probably lash out at him. Staid couldn't really blame them either. How would he feel if he was yanked out of his home and thrown into combat every few days?

He stayed quiet for a few moments, heedless of the dozens of terrified guardsmen and citizens behind them. Even Thonnir had finally shut up. The atmosphere of the swamp – gods, it even put him on edge – and the knowledge that vampires, wizards, and dragons seemed to be around every corner hadn't done much for the townsfolk's spirits. Hopefully burning these beasts out of their den and slaughtering this Movarth he'd heard about would improve things.

Living in a muddy swamp town was bad enough without being besieged by nightmarish monsters.

"Could you teach me how to do it?"

Falion rolled his eyes. He'd probably expected that. "Not yet. You'd bungle it at your level. You're just an initiate into the school of Conjuration," he said firmly. The wizard stroked his chin thoughtfully as another vampire yowled from inside the cave before a heavy thunk cut it off. "I'll give you some pointers, though. You're going to need it," Falion said wryly. "A Clannfear or lesser Dremora would serve you well. I might give you a few tomes to help with your techniques. You aren't ready for rituals, but I can tell you're still sloppy with dynamic conjuration."

Staid nodded as he rolled his dagger between his palms. It relaxed him somewhat. He was glad his mask hid his grin, though – the thought of learning anything from an accomplished master like Falion was incredible! The only other conjurer he'd met was Farengar, who tended to approach it as an afterthought. Nords didn't appreciate the school as much as Staid did. He couldn't see why, though. Why risk your own skin when you could summon a daedra or spirit to do it for you?

Memories of the vision he'd perceived in Falkreath Hold flashed through his mind. Hordes of daedra crashing into the lines of Nords, ripping and tearing and killing…

His mouth twisted unpleasantly. That's why.

Some unseen signal roused Falion from his vigil. "Come," he said briskly. Several guards hesitantly entered first, shields at the ready. Falion had no patience for their fear and walked forth in a swirl of billowing robes. Staid and Lydia followed close behind, several dozen guards with torches following suit. The flickering flames and the warmth they carried brought a measure of comfort to Staid.

Behind them the mob shifted restlessly and poured into the cave behind them as they went down the hill, passed by several gutted frostbite spider carcasses, guts and ichor splattered across the slick floor. If Staid wasn't already so on edge he probably would have wretched at the sight (and smell). Lydia sneered at the remnants of a few mortal thralls to the vampires as they entered a larger cavern deeper in the labyrinth - they weren't in much better shape than the spiders. The Xivilai had made quick work of them.

He couldn't even imagine trying to contest those monsters with magic, let alone mortal weapons…

Said monsters waited patiently in front of yet another winding passage. Their dark skin was absolutely drenched in blood and gore. They looked perfectly at home in the slaughter. The effect was only made stranger by the dozens of shoes piled around the room… Staid had no illusions where those had come from. How many innocents had died in this place?

The very air stank of old blood. It had seeped into the stones here, the cavern marked forever by the atrocities of its inhabitants. Well, perhaps their purge of this evil place would free it of this burden. Staid shuddered as he truly took in the place... the air was cold, even for Skyrim, and it penetrated deep to his bones. The darkness was deeper and dangerous, full of potential predators.

He thanked all the gods that he hadn't followed his Dovah urges and tackled this place alone. If he had survived he would've never been willing to venture into the night again without fearing the burning gazes and pale faces of Skyrim's vampires. Even with Falion, a wizard who truly showed him what an amateur he really was, and the backing of more than fifty guardsmen and a mob of nearly a hundred he could feel the oppressive air threaten to overwhelm him.

"Captain, take your legionnaires and half the townspeople and lead them down the branching tunnels. Kill anything you find," Falion directed to the Legion captain that Legate Taurinus had been kind enough to loan them. The captain nodded and began to hiss orders to his fifteen legionnaires, who then proceeded to round up members of the mob for support. Falion relayed the same orders to the commander of the town guard. By the time they marched to do their bloody work it was only Falion, Staid, Lydia, Barbas, Thonnir, and twenty of Morthal's most hardened guardsmen.

They shifted nervously - even Staid wasn't immune. The tension hung heavy in the air, even with Falion at their side. Falion's sharp gaze raked over them. Staid straightened his back and clenched his staff tight for comfort.

"We have the hardest job. My daedra have informed me that the master of these vampires waits in the cavern down that path. He knows we're here. I can sense five other vampires and at least ten thralls with them."

"Fuck!" One of the guardsmen cursed. Staid couldn't help but agree with him. He wouldn't want to take on a regular vampire without a serious numerical advantage and the element of surprise. A fortified nest? Without Falion it would be suicide. The master vampire was especially concerning... anything that could live for so long in the shadows was to be feared.

Lydia seemed just as frustrated. "Why do we not wait for the others to return from their purge? We need their numbers."

Falion frowned. "Not unless you want to walk into a massacre. A master vampire like Movarth Piquine has powers you wouldn't believe. With a single glance he could bring the undisciplined mob under his spell and stoke their hatred until they tore each other apart. It would be chaos, and Morthal would be easy prey for whatever threat came along next."

He grimaced at the ugly picture Falion had painted. Under those numbers even he and Lydia would probably get torn apart. Idgrod the Younger's message to Danica certainly wouldn't get delivered in that case…

The conjurer sent Staid a pointed look. "Use the Clairvoyance spell I taught you. Tell me what you see."

Staid nodded and cast the unfamiliar spell. The spell matrix pulsed with magicka and his eyes shut as raw information, difficult to interpret due to his lack of experience with the spell, flooded his brain. He had a vague awareness of the tunnel beyond, a few pale, haunted figures, and finally a hideous, wrinkled face with fiery eyes that saw him -

"Easy," Falion pulled him out of Clairvoyance effortlessly. The wizard seemed satisfied. "Good. We know he has some familiarity with magic beyond his vampiric blessings if he could detect your awareness. Dragonborn, you will enter behind the initial charge of the guards. Use your Voice - we must catch them off guard. My daedra and I will handle the master. Keep the lesser vampires off of us so that we may focus."

"Understood," he frowned. That was manageable. Falion had recharged his staff, so he wouldn't have to worry about conserving power. Anything he could throw out would be manageable.

With that out of the way, they marched forward to meet their threat.

XX

The cavern they entered was lit with a dim glow from a handful of torches, most likely for the thrall's convenience. Staid's nostrils flared and he breathed heavily beneath his mask as he took a split second to take the area in - there wasn't much in the way of decoration except for a lone table that stretched nearly fifteen feet from one end to the other, covered in three shivering, moaning humans tied down with deep gashes sliced into their ashen skin.

A flame blazed within him, and he pulled his mask up to release it. "FUS RO!" Staid roared. His Thu'um erupted from his throat in a roar that shook the entire cavern. If he had released the full might of his Thu'um it would have brought the stone above crumbling down on them all. Dust shook from above and loose debris pelted their enemies, yet the true power came from the rippling wave of force that engulfed everything it touched - the vast table and tortured humans crumbled and splintered to nothing upon its might, thralls not protected by shimmering wards and a lone vampire that was too slow to react shrieked in agony as bones snapped and necks twisted and spines crunched.

Staid pulled back immediately, his hands wrapped around the cool metal of his staff, and flinched as a dark shape dropped from above. It hissed and screamed like a wild animal as its shining blade stabbed at him - only to be smashed to dust in a howl of agony by one of Falion's Xivilai. Lydia sent the creature a dirty look as she rushed to support her Thane, though the guardsmen pushed and jostled them out of the way as they advanced into the cave with a roar. Cinder the flame atronach led the charge, the vampires hissing and scurrying away from the beacon of heat and light. The thralls' skin blistered and peeled as they closed in, blind to the pain in their haste to serve their masters.

Cinder was forced to back off and let the guardsmen charge around her to begin their bloody work, but she kept the vampires off them. Everytime they sought to pick the guards' formation apart she was quick to strike with a rush of flame that sent the creatures of darkness fleeing.

Falion had eyes only for a vampire that stood apart from the rest. Staid instantly recognized the pallid, sunken face and the rictus grin that greeted them. The tall vampire stood unnaturally still as shrieks and snarls erupted from its minions that swarmed forward to meet the guardsmen - screams were ripped from the throats of men and vampires as steel met claw and cold red lightning struck the Nords. Staid could see the men struck by the spell stagger and wheeze as their very life force was stolen away. One guard collapsed entirely as a vampire cackled with its new power, only to shriek like a scalded cat when a thunderous bolt of lightning erupted from Staid's staff and struck it directly in its chest - a warrior quickly rushed forward to lop its head off.

In the meantime the master vampire - Movarth - met Falion's eyes. Tension weighed heavily on the lesser combatants (no matter how much it galled Staid to refer to himself as such) as the battle of wills began. Staid made sure to keep his eyes on them even as he hurled fireballs and lightning bolts into the midst of the vampiric forces. He grinned smugly as a scantily clad vampire he recognized as Alva howled and blistered underneath the flames.

That was for Helgi. The little girl deserved so much better than what these rotten bastards had given her.

Only two of the lesser vampires and four of the thralls still lived, while nine of the guardsmen were still capable of fighting (two had been dealt nearly fatal wounds, only clinging to life because of the potions that their comrades had shoved down their throat). Thonnir and Lydia hung at Staid's side. They shifted uneasily at the carnage, but refused to leave his side.

And then Falion sagged. Movarth's eyes burned like the pits to Oblivion in the darkness and Staid could barely pick out the satisfied smirk before he moved. He barely had time to hurl a firebolt at the vampire (it effortlessly slipped around it) and howled a warning as Movarth landed in the midst of the guards as they finished off another thrall and vampire.

Cinder rushed forward, aware of the danger, and Movart ducked beneath three separate stabs. A shimmering barrier, thin and hardly visible over his skin, manifested and soaked up the worst of the heat - Cinder's aura hardly made the master vampire flinch, and his blade (a plain weapon of shining steel with the adornments of Skyforge make) carved deep into her obsidian chassis.

Staid poured his rage into the next lightning bolt, but Movarth just laughed and spun Cinder around to absorb it. He winced and looked at the daedra apologetically before Movarth shoved her away towards the guardsmen - Staid's heart skipped a beat at the threat, but with an intense surge of focus he released Cinder into Oblivion moments before she would have exploded and torn a gaping hole into the guards' defenses.

He snarled and kept his assault on Movarth up, desperate to buy every potential second as Falion slowly recovered. The Xivilai steadfastly refused to step forward without Falion's direct order, alien amusement plain on their surly features. Staid glared hatefully at them, only to shout in triumph as a firebolt finally landed on the master vampire.

"You have accomplished nothing!" Movarth proclaimed, his fiery eyes narrowed hatefully. Staid withered beneath a sudden hail of lightning that spat from the vampire's outstretched palm - Lydia and Thonnir cried out (Barbas nowhere to be seen, naturally) - and barely managed to summon a flimsy ward that Farengar had taught him. It shattered almost instantly under the surge of electricity, but blunted the edge.

Staid blinked, suddenly aware of something hard and pointy stabbing into his back. His vision cleared but his limbs trembled as he struggled to rise from where he'd fallen into the cave wall. Lydia and Thonnir hauled him to his feet, faces pale in fear.

"Watch out!" His dry throat hurt as he warned the guardsmen, who had just finished off the last of the vampires, but it was too late. Movarth's blade cut effortlessly through the neck of one, the famed quality of Skyforge steel never more evident, and his other palm became flush with a bloody glow.

He rushed to Falion's side, heedless of the Xivilai, as red light spat from Movarth's palm and attached to three of the nearest guardsmen who had only just become aware of his threat. An awful noise poured from their throats...Staid watched their flesh wither and dry until it flaked off into dust, like a draugr, and they collapsed. Movarth smiled as his blistered flesh smoothed and paled from the angry red before their very eyes - in the next moment, before the other guardsmen could rally, a sickly blue flame erupted from his hand and reanimated one of the fallen guardsmen.

The dead man, a particularly burly Nord with a greatsword larger than Staid, lurched to his feet with a moan and immediately tore into the surviving guards. They screamed and stabbed through its chainmail, yet the sheer power behind the reanimation allowed the revenant to practically ignore the bloodless blows - it would keep the other guards busy.

And then one of the wounded guards, a tall woman with gentle eyes, struck as Movarth passed her. He howled as her warhammer swung from the ground and into his leg, crippling him for a moment before he savagely gutted her with his sword, which seemed to drink up the blood and shone with a morbid red glow. Movarth's leg bent and cracked and popped back into place with a sickening noise and he stood tall and straight like nothing had happened. He spared the woman's corpse a disdainful sneer...Staid fought the urge to wretch at the sight of her ruined body. It was like the blade had stolen her years from her - her face was sunken and leathery like a draugr's, as if every bit of life had been sucked out of her body and transferred into the vampire.

"Don't feel too bad, boy," Movarth approached like a specter. His eyes glinted with amusement. Lydia prepared herself, shield in front and her enchanted sword blazing with a supernatural flame. Thonnir quivered but stood strong. The older man pointedly kept his eyes away from Movarth's gaze, which seemed to amuse the monstrous creature. "Greater men than you and this wizard have tried to kill me."

Staid's eyes flashed. "I am no man! I am Dragonborn!"

That wiped the smile off Movarth's face. "So that's what that power was...I knew a child such as you couldn't summon such force with mere magic."

With the vampire distracted, Staid made his move. "FUS RO!"

Movarth's superhuman reflexes allowed him to conjure up a ward that appeared practically solid, but it meant little to the Thu'um that could knock one of the Dov off their feet. The master vampire was flung away, but Staid's eyes quickly lost track of the vampire in the darkness...it seemed to literally vanish in mid-air, and Staid was immediately on guard. No doubt the ancient monster had endless tricks up its sleeves.

"Dragonborn!" The guards cried - only five of the original twenty remained. Six if you counted the hulking Nord that had been practically torn apart by the frenzied strikes of his former compatriots - one of its arms hung limply at its side and both legs had been shattered by well-placed strikes of a guardsman's warhammer, but it still tried uselessly to kill its opponents.

Staid put the bastard out of his misery with a lightning bolt to the chest, courtesy of his staff. It faded immediately into ash, that blow enough to disperse the little remaining magic keeping it in one piece.

"To me!" Staid roared, the power of his Voice enough to shake the cavern. The guards were quick to rally behind him. He couldn't blame them for not wanting to stay out in those killing fields… Movarth was still out there somewhere.

Now it was just a matter of time until the Imperial legionnaires and remaining guard would get here. That might give them the edge he needed, although he had the grim thought that it wouldn't matter much. Movarth had centuries to hone his edge, and his magical skills would crush them all without Falion.

Speaking of the wizard, he was finally starting to rouse, though his eyes were exhausted and bloodshot.

Movarth decided that wouldn't do. From the darkness erupted a steady stream of lightning, only blocked by one of the Xivilai finally stepping forward. Staid doubted it was of its own free will as it bodily absorbed the lightning, and finally dispersed under the attack. The other, the shorter one, hefted its ebony warhammer and snarled into the darkness.

"Falion! We're getting slaughtered!" Staid hissed to Falion. The man staggered to his feet, only to stumble backward as Movarth launched into the Xivilai. The Xivilai roared and charged forward into the vampire, warhammer crashing down with enough force to shatter boulders - the reverberations through the stone rattled Staid's teeth. It swept another blow at Movarth, and this one landed on Movarth's wicked blade and sent it skittering off across the cavern floor. The vampire hissed, but actually seemed pleased - he immediately adopted an unfamiliar stance and leapt into a series of well-honed strikes, kicks, and blows that kept the Xivilai off balance.

The Xivilai and Movarth continued their dance, and Staid contributed with a firebolt whenever he saw the opening - one washed over Movarth's skin and the vampire screamed. In the moment it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard…

"Lydia, Thonnir! It's going to beat the Xivilai," Staid said, though his throat ached with the exertion of using his Thu'um twice in such a short time. Lydia started, though his words rang true. The Xivilai was an unstoppable force, but it couldn't land a single hit… Movarth was just too fast. The vampire would have been overwhelmed against twin Xivilai, but they were just too slow. "If Falion's not awake, keep it busy and I'll do my best to put it down…"

"That won't be a problem," Falion grimaced. He waved his hands over the three of them - he appeared greatly exerted by the golden glow that suffused them, but Staid quickly recognized the wisdom of such a technique. Falion had covered them with thick shields - it wouldn't do much, but it would perhaps save them from a single fatal blow. "I'm going to freeze him in his tracks. I don't have the strength to summon anything powerful enough to make a difference."

Just as Falion's words ended, Movarth howled in victory as his claws plunged straight into the Xivilai's heavily muscled neck and tore, his supernatural strength enough to stab through the daedra's armor-like skin. His hand shone a bloody red and Movarth seemed to recover from some of his wounds as the Xivilai sagged, though he was still slower than before Staid had struck him.

The Xivilai vanished into Oblivion. A ghastly smirk graced the vampire's sunken face and he coiled to leap into their midst - only to gasp in surprise as Falion struck it with a blindingly fast purple light. The nightmarish creature sagged to one knee, and Lydia and Thonnir struck.

Movarth hissed and shrieked like a feral beast as the mortal warrior charged it - Staid poured every ounce of power he could into a brilliant lightning bolt that sent the vampire into spasms as thunder cracked across the cavern. It didn't slow it for long, but Staid grinned victoriously as Thonnir sunk his axe into the monster's shoulder, so deep that it was wrenched from Thonnir's grip. Just as the vampire's good hand reached to pull the axe out of its bloodless wound, Lydia shouted and stabbed her blazing sword straight through the master vampire's heart.

Its flaming eyes rolled into its head and its mouth opened in a silent scream, and Movarth was no more.

Staid immediately sagged in relief, his weight focused onto his staff. The air was already clearer now, the stink of decay and blood and foul deeds removed with Movarth's power. It still stank, but the source of its evil was gone.

Just to be sure…

"Step away," he commanded, a hint of his Thu'um laced within his words, and Lydia and Thonnir immediately stepped away. Staid cast his staff to the side and raised both hands, flames sparking to life as he immediately poured all of his remaining magicka into an inferno that engulfed Movarth's remains and burned and burned and burned.

When he thought it was enough, Staid maintained the Flames for another twenty seconds. Lydia had to support him on her armored shoulder when he finished, such was his exhaustion.

Falion stepped forward. Frost landed upon the ashes and cherry-red stone to drain the heat before the master wizard gathered up his ashes. "It's dangerous to leave their remains," Falion explained at Staid's questioning glance. "I'm going to scatter them to the winds so no other vampire will be attracted to this place. Movarth was thought dead a century ago. I will not allow him the chance to return."

Staid nodded, exhausted. "Let's find the bastard's treasure trove and loot the damn thing then leave this horrible place."

He was tempted to leave immediately, gather the soldiers, and collapse this bloody cave but there was no way he could pass up the chance to add insult to injury to Movarth. Who knew what treasures he'd acquired over his long life?

Falion, Lydia, and Thonnir all nodded in agreement.

XX

"How was Movarth so powerful?" Staid asked as he and Falion stood around the Master's enchanting table. It was covered in pulsing runes and obscure scripts that Staid couldn't make heads or tails of, but that didn't mean it wasn't fascinating to look at. When Falion wasn't done looking at their take of the vampire hoard (they had been allowed to take choice objects, although the vast majority of gold, clothing, and simple treasures had been paid to Morthal and the Imperial Legion) Staid intended on having him explain them all.

"He was of the Cyrodiilic strain. They're more physically powerful, and vampires grow stronger when they deny their urges to feed. It's part of their curse imparted upon them by the Prince of Rape, Molag Bal. If they can dominate their urges, their lust for blood, then they gain strength. A cruel twist, but effective for those that have the willpower."

Staid grimaced. "That explains why he could tear your Xivilai apart with his bare hands."

Falion coughed. "I'm never going to hear the end of that from Bananzes. I might have to look into finding another to summon," the Redguard grumbled to himself as he parsed through a thick tome that looked centuries old. With a thought he tossed it onto the small pile of books and items he'd created for Staid. "Start on that last. It will teach you how to perform the Chain Lightning spell. Requires a bit more direction and control than you're used to, but that'll be good for your development. You can learn to apply that to other disciplines."

"And I should focus on Alteration and Illusion first?" Staid asked, eager as ever to hear from the old wizard. Falion just grunted an affirmative. He'd already helped Staid learn the basics of the Oakflesh spell, which created a slippery barrier around him that would turn away glancing blows from weapons, arrows, and other dangers. It wouldn't protect against heavy blows, but he might at least survive a fight in close quarters now.

"Alteration first. We need you to kill dragons and you can't do that if you're vulnerable," Falion muttered as he passed his hands over the wicked blade of Movarth. It glowed a bloody red that sent shivers down Staid's spine. "Given what you've said of the Voice, I think you'll find you have a natural talent for the art. Read those notes I gave you."

Staid nodded obediently, though he placed the fascinating tome down after skimming through a few pages of dense magical theory and instructions. That was going to leave his head aching…

"This is mine?" He asked as he hefted the Skyforge blade in his hands. It was too heavy for him, naturally. Staid could carry it easily enough but he'd be exhausted if he tried to wield it in battle. The hilt felt wrong in his hands. It had grown entirely used to a different master, he thought. It made no sense, given that it was just a sword (albeit a magical one) but it almost felt as if it were rejecting him.

Falion nodded. "I have no use for it. Keep it, sell it, I could care less."

"I can't keep this," Staid eyed the sword regretfully. He thought it would be of great use to Lydia, but there was no way in Oblivion she would accept it. Aside from probably killing hundreds of innocents, its enchantment would strike her as evil. To steal the life from another and feed it into yourself was about as foul to a good Nord like Lydia as he could imagine.

Don't ask him why they considered that any different than him devouring the souls of the Dov to fuel his own strength. He'd accepted that Nords had a bit of a blindspot there. Not that he was complaining.

Still, the enchantment was incredibly useful...it had restored Movarth's broken leg in seconds. Staid suspected it worked a little better for Movarth given the vampire's undead nature, but it was clear that there was power in this sword.

"Can you help me unravel the enchantment?" He stared hungrily at the life-drinking blade. Staid had only learned the basics of enchantment from Farengar, but this could be invaluable when he grew skilled enough! It could very well save Lydia's life.

Jarl Balgruuf would probably give him all the gold in Whiterun if he could weave this power into a few of his favored guardsman's weapons - enchantments were incredibly rare in Skyrim, and even a small group of warriors armed with powerful magical weaponry could turn the tide of battle.

Oh yes, he was going to master this art…

"Very well," Falion sighed as he tossed yet another book on Illusion into his own pile. "For my apprentice," he explained to Staid. "Now, let's make this quick. Your housecarl will be back soon and you look exhausted. You need to be rested for the ceremony tomorrow, Dragonborn…"

Staid had a stupid grin on his face as Falion hummed over Movarth's sword and began to explain the finer intricaties of breaking down enchantments and learning to apply them to other objects.

He had to admit that Falion was a much better teacher than Farengar…

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you thought and if there are any characters, quests, or plots you'd like to see Staid participate in! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you have a great 2020!