4E 202, Solitude
Kiera Fendalyn
Clean-up after the incident was messy.
Burn marks from atronach explosions had scarred the Temple of the Divines' courtyard , blood had been washed from the stones, and shattered furniture had been dragged away and burned.
Solitude was efficient like that, quietly scrubbing away reminders before fear had time to fester too deeply.
In the end, it could have been far worse.
The conclusion came swiftly and cleanly, the assassination attempt had been aimed squarely at Vittoria Vici, which was quite the surprise since she was far from the most politically important guest in the event.
The new bride lived, though she remained bedridden within the Blue Palace, watched at all hours by disciplined guards and attended to by healers from the Temple of the Divines at the Emperor's direct request.
The true cost of that day were the souls that had perished. Twenty-six civilians were dead. Fourteen legionnaires had fallen.
It sat poorly with Kiera. It always did whenever people died right in front of her. Victories were rarely clean anymore—if they ever had been.
This had been her first direct encounter with the Dark Brotherhood, and she begrudgingly admitted the truth of it.
They were professionals.
The plan itself had been sound. A powerful conjurer flooding the battlefield with atronachs to create panic and draw attention. A poisoner attempting to neutralize the greatest variable and threat—Kiera herself—before the real strike even began. Multiple contingencies. Multiple killers.
It had only failed because of chance.
Kiera could still remember the sharp sting in her nose, the way her instincts had screamed at her just moments before CIcero had offered the goblet. Commander Maro had revealed that the poison was one called the 'Ice-Wraith Bane', a rather lethal poison and was supposedly tasteless and scentless.
She snorted at that. There was no such thing as scentless poison, only bad noses. The senses of a dragon was good for more than one thing it seemed.
The werewolf and the Argonian had been capable fighters, especially the former. Strong, fast, and disciplined in a way that spoke of experience rather than raw savagery. But experience alone was not enough to bridge the gap between them and her.
They knew the Brotherhood had sent five agents.
The mage, the Argonian swordsman, the werewolf, Cicero, and the Dunmer woman whose head had rolled before she could finish her sentence.
One died, two were captured, and two escaped.
Kiera had managed to subdue her assailants without killing them, something that Commander Maro praised her for due to the need for information. The man had swiftly put both deep in the dungeons of Castle Dour, interrogated by the Penitus Oculatus' finest.
That was yesterday, and now the results of that interrogation would be shared with the higher ups of the Empire.
As she walked through Solitude toward the Blue Palace, the city murmured around her.
Voices dropped low when she passed.
"Bad omen, this. Wedding bloodied like that…"
"The gods have turned their faces from us."
"Are you dumb? Blessed Champions are walking around us. Don't you know that the Dragonborn and Dragonslayer both are chosen of the Divines?"
"That doesn't matter. Mark my words. Death's coming. The signs are all around us."
Kiera kept her gaze forward.
Fear always wanted meaning. People tried to shape chaos into prophecy because it felt safer than admitting the truth—that sometimes violence was just violence, and the world did not care when it struck.
Public faith would need tending, but that was not her role. Not today. That burden belonged to the Emperor and to Elisif, both far better suited to soothe crowds than a woman who solved problems with a sword and a Shout.
The guards saluted crisply as she entered the Blue Palace. A Haafingar hold guard led her through familiar halls to the council chamber where she had first sat across from Titus Mede II months ago, before the world had begun tearing itself apart in earnest.
Everyone was already waiting for her when she arrived. Jarl Elisif and Emperor Titus Mede II were seated with their hands folded. Legate Rikke stood straight back against the wall, behind General Tullius' seat.
The Legate was covered head to toe in bandages, having been the most wounded of the survivors. Though a potion of healing and stamina purified from the White Phial had allowed her to be present for the meeting.
Commander Maro, Sybille Stentor, and Falk Firebeard filled the other three seats.
"Kiera," the Emperor greeted evenly. "Good of you to join us."
She inclined her head and took her place.
Maro stepped forward without delay. "First point of order. The prisoners. The Argonian and Nord werewolf that Lady Kiera successfully captured have been tried and interrogated. While they were surprisingly strong-willed, their lips loosened eventually. We learned the names of all the previously unknown assassins."
He looked into the list. "Festus Krex, the Mage. Veezara, the Argonian. Arnbjorn, the Werewolf. And Gabriella, the Dunmer assassin killed during the attempt."
Kiera noticed the subtle tightening of Legate Rikke's fists at the mention of Festus Krex. Guilt, perhaps. Or frustration. Either way, Rikke hid it well.
"Their associate, identified as Cicero, remains at large," Maro continued. "Both he and Krex escaped during the incident. Their current locations are unknown."
Elisif leaned forward. "But you said an opportunity has availed itself, Commander."
"Indeed it did." Maro nodded. "We have confirmed the location of their hideout."
That drew everyone's attention.
"The Oculatus has had suspicions for a while now, and the recent failure means that the Dark Brotherhood will have to regroup," he went on. "It's standard procedure. We hope to take them all down in a surgical strike before they recover."
"And what will this take, Commander?" Jarl Elisif asked. "What forces do you require to allow you the confidence in taking down the Dark Brotherhood in their own home?"
"With all due respect Jarl Elisif, the Dark Brotherhood are all assassins first and foremost." Commander Maro stated. "They thrive in striking from the shadows. If we attack them in a place where they are most vulnerable, then they have no chance of survival. All I need are a few legionnaire scouts as guides, the Oculatus will handle the rest."
Kiera saw General Tullius nod in agreement, his tactical mind having arrived in the same conclusion.
The only reason why Commander Maro was given main command in handling the Dark Brotherhood was because it fell into his jurisdiction as protectors of the Imperial Family. That, and Tullius will be busy with Kiera in dismantling Castle Volkihar.
There was a part of Kiera that both agreed and disagreed with the Commander's statement. The assassins were still professional killers, and Festus Krex was no mere hedge mage.
The ability to conjure as many atronachs as he did proved a proficient level in the Conjuration school of magic. Underestimating them would be a mistake.
Legate Rikke took a step forward. "Commander Maro, allow me to join you in this endeavour."
Maro paused as he cast a glance at General Tullius, who gave a nod. "Very well, Legate. It will be good to have a proper chain of command for the Legionnaires coming with us."
Rikke inclined her head once and returned to her place.
Afterward, discussion turned practical. Routes, timing, secrecy. The Dark Brotherhood would be erased cleanly, quietly, without spectacle.
Then the Emperor spoke again.
"How goes the war efforts? Have we heard anything of Alduin?"
Kiera shook her head. "Delphine and the Blades still have not sent word, though it is to be expected as they have gone deep underground. We have discovered certain patterns however. When Alduin pulled his forces back, many dragons were seen escaping east, roosting somewhere in the Velothi Mountain Range."
Tullius grimaced. "Which is still too broad of a search range. The Velothi range spans the entire eastern border of Skyrim."
"That might be, but it's less than before." Kiera rebutted, to which Tullius gave an affirmed nod. "We can write to Ulfric Stormcloak to increase patrols and scouts near that area. Gerron too since Shor's Stone sits right at the mountains' edge."
Falk Firebeard made a sound of agreement as he continued to write on a parchment. As the steward of Solitude, it was his duty to write those letters.
Kiera spoke up once more. "The Mythic Dawn still remains to be a threat, but mother has told me that Calixto is dead. Before the Vigilants could interrogate him properly, he bit his own tongue before cracking open his skull by slamming it into the iron bars repeatedly."
That earned a moment of silence, before a scoff came out Tullius' mouth.
"A pitiful way to go for a supposed champion of a Daedric Prince."
"We've always believed that Mankar Camoran was the true threat behind the cult anyway." Emperor Titus Mede II stated, "While the loss of their Champion is devastating, they would remain dangerous as long as the man still lives."
Kiera nodded in agreement. "Alduin has also been quiet for too long. The dragon attacks had lessened in the countryside, and no masked priest had shown themselves even once. While others might see this as a point of hope, I can't help but feel it's the calm before the storm."
No one disagreed.
The meeting adjourned not long after.
Kiera exited the Blue Palace beside General Tullius, the sea air sharp as it hit her lungs. Solitude Port sprawled below, alive with motion. Twenty ships rocked against the piers, sails furled, decks crowded with soldiers.
Thousands of men awaited for them both, each one resolved to end the vampire threat once and for all.
Kiera stepped aboard alongside Tullius as the final ropes were cast off. Horns sounded. Sails unfurled. The fleet pulled away from Solitude's proud stone cliffs, cutting through dark water toward the looming silhouette of the northern coast.
From high above, Vermithor roared, shadows being cast from his wings as he took flight.
…
4E 202, Shor's Stone, a week later
Gerron Ironbreaker
Gerron finished penning the last line of the letter. Two copies lay before him, one addressed to Ulfric Stormcloak, the other bound for Keeper Carcette.
It detailed a troop movement request. A coordinated strike by the Stormcloaks and the Vigilants of Stendarr to enact a joint siege on Bthardamz, the newly discovered hidden headquarters of the Mythic Dawn.
Once the ink dried, Gerron pressed his signet into hot wax, the hammer on a mountaintop of Shor's Stone sinking deep. The letter to Ulfric bore the bear of Windhelm beside it; Carcette's, the vigilant sunburst of Stendarr. When finished, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
This was the advantage of the war as it now stood.
With Kiera, General Tullius, and the bulk of the Imperial Legion preparing to bring fire and steel to Castle Volkihar, the pressure on the rest of Skyrim eased just enough to allow decisive strikes elsewhere.
Ulfric's Stormcloaks could move quickly through the Reach and the Vigilants would relish the chance to eradicate the last embers of the Mythic Dawn.
That left Gerron with enough time to handle another problem, the Soul Cairn. More specifically, Valerica Volkihar.
The door to his workshop opened. Gerron did not look up at first, already recognizing the presence behind him.
"So," Serana's voice said, amused and curious in equal measure, "what are we doing?"
Gerron turned to see her, who had just arrived here from Winterhold.
With the blessing of Meridia, Serana no longer held fear for the sun. She looked travel worn, her cloak dusted with ash and road grime but otherwise unbothered. A week on the road through cold weather meant little to a vampire.
"This," Gerron said evenly, gesturing to the cleared space at the heart of the workshop, "is where we build a door to Oblivion."
Serana arched an eyebrow. "You figured it out?"
"Of course I did. Did you bring what I asked for?"
Without another word, Serana reached into her satchel and set a heavy bag on the worktable. It hit with a dull, ominous clink. Gerron opened it, inspecting the contents with a craftsman's eye.
Black Soul Gems, hagraven feathers, and a Daedra Heart, preserved in alchemical stasis.
"Perfect," Gerron said. "Then this shouldn't be too complicated."
On cue, the sound of synchronized footfalls echoed through the workshop. Six Automaton Builders emerged from an adjacent corridor, bronze and steel frames gleaming as they took up assigned positions without needing instruction. Arcane sigils flickered to life along their arms as tools unfolded seamlessly from their forearms.
Gerron moved as they worked, explaining as much for Serana as for his own clarity.
"From what you told me—and what the Augur of Dunlain confirmed—the Soul Cairn operates on a unique metaphysical law," he said. "Only undeath may pass freely. Vampires. Revenants. Bound souls."
Serana nodded. "Which is why my mother and I can enter."
"And why I can't," Gerron continued. "At least not without risk."
Serana turned to him then, her expression sharpening. "You don't have to come with me. If it's dangerous—"
"It is dangerous," Gerron interrupted mildly. "Which is exactly why I'm coming."
She hesitated. "You're too important, Gerron. To the war. To Skyrim. To me."
Gerron raised an eyebrow, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat at that last part. "So you think I'd let you walk into Oblivion alone with god knows what waiting for you because of that?"
He gestured for her to follow and led her to one of his inner workstations. There, a Black Soul Gem was mounted within a complex lattice of focusing rings and lenses. With a twist of his gauntlet, the gem activated, revealing a distorted reflection of trapped essence within.
"A partial soul-binding would work," Gerron admitted. "It's basically a modified Soul Trap. It limits a person's soul, weakening them enough to be seen as semi-undead."
Serana stiffened. "I don't like the sound of that."
"Neither do I," he agreed. "Which is why I'm not doing it."
He adjusted a dial, and the apparatus shifted, projecting a faint, rippling aura instead of a binding thread.
"This," he continued, "is a fabricated resonance. I'm not offering my soul—I'm simulating the metaphysical signature of one already claimed. The Soul Cairn won't see me as alive… but it won't be able to touch my soul either."
Serana stared. "You're… tricking a law of reality."
Gerron smiled. "I prefer to think of it as negotiating."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"Resourceful," he corrected.
"And how do we find her, then?" Serana asked after a moment. "We're looking for a single person in an entire dimension."
"With this," Gerron reached into a reinforced case and withdrew a familiar bronze sphere. With a soft mechanical whirr, it unfolded into Bronze, the mechanical owl.
"I upgraded his optics," Gerron said. "With the new lenses, he could find and track creatures through blood resonance detection. You and Valerica share a lineage. Similar signatures. All we need is to follow Bronze and we won't be wandering blind."
Serana smiled then. Genuine, warm, and unmistakably fond. "Have I ever told you you're terrifyingly competent?"
Gerron chuckled. "It comes with the job."
They worked through the night.
Serana remained by his side, watching, occasionally assisting, sometimes simply talking. Vampiric endurance meant she never tired; Gerron's demigod resilience meant neither did he.
Sparks flew, enchantments were layered, and reality itself was coaxed into bending. With the aid of the Builders, most of the menial work could be done quickly.
By morning, it was done.
The portal stood at the center of the workshop. A circular construct of ebony ribs and dragonbone reinforcement, runes carved deep into the stone. Within it swirled a violet void, stone steps descending into nothingness.
Gerron lifted the modified Black Soul Gem and slammed it into the bracer mounted on his armor. The enchantment activated instantly.
A black aura shimmered over his form, subtle but absolute.
Serana stepped beside him, eyes fixed on the portal. "Ready?"
Gerron nodded. He had already informed everyone of what they were about to do. Filnjar, Grogmar, and Ralof would hold down Shor's Stone while they were gone.
A dozen of the newly upgraded Automaton Guardians stood behind them ready to make the trip as well.
It was the quick solution Gerron could think of. The Shor's Guards couldn't come with them due to the Soul Cairn metaphysical law, and he didn't have enough Black Soul Gems to outfit them all with the same contraption he did.
The Guardians held no soul, which allowed them to join without any problems.
He and Serana shared a glance. Without hesitation, they stepped forward together and descended into the portal.
…
AN: This chapter was quite hard to make, though I don't know why. The whole Kiera sequence was rewritten at least three times before I just decided to post it as is. It wasn't my best work, but I guess not everything has to be perfect.
The Gerron POV was fun though. It's very rare for me to showcase Gerron's tinkering skill since I usually gloss them over. I've received comments before that too much artificing and technical sequences get repetitive once in a while. I've also received comments that he doesn't tinker enough.
Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this one. We're really nearing the last arc here as we're entering the last legs of the fic.
More chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 105 should be available by the time this chapter is posted. Just look up my name, TeemVizzle, and you'll find me.
Cheers!