The magically enhanced streetlamps of Dawnstar cast shadows across the bustling marketplace. The air, crisp with the scent of pine and a hint of ozone from the Magic Tower, hummed with the familiar rhythm of evening commerce. Merchants hawking their wares, children chased errant fireflies drawn to the glowing orbs, and couples strolled hand-in-hand, enjoying the extended daylight provided by the city's magical illumination.
Harin, her hand resting lightly on the intricately carved baton at her hip, walked at a steady pace through the crowds. Beside her, Babette skipped, a small, almost ethereal figure, her pale skin catching the lamplight. Her youthful appearance was a carefully crafted illusion, a mask that hid an ancient knowing. To any observer, they were simply a woman and child enjoying the evening, a perception Babette subtly reinforced with her playful steps and the occasional tug on Harin's sleeve.
"The spiced venison smells… potent tonight," Babette chirped, her head tilted towards a nearby stall piled high with cured meats. She wrinkled her nose slightly, a subtle gesture that could be interpreted as childish distaste or something more.
"So many… strong scents tonight." She looked up at Harin with wide, innocent eyes, a practiced expression that never failed to soften the warrior's features.
Harin's gaze softened as she met Babette's. A shared understanding, born of shared secrets, passed between them. A faint smile touched Harin's lips.
"Your senses are keen tonight, Babette. Let's focus on our patrol, though. We need to keep an eye on everything."
It was a responsibility they shared, a quiet duty they undertook to ensure the safety of the city Ibnor had so painstakingly built.
Their patrol was a recent addition to Dawnstar's routine, a subtle precaution implemented by Ibnor to ensure the continued safety of the city. With the increased flow of trade and travelers, and the whispers of unrest stirring in other holds, a visible presence was deemed necessary. Harin would sometimes voluntarily join in the patrol, her way to contribute to the peace that Ibnor had worked so hard to establish.
As they rounded a corner near the blacksmithing area, the sharp, piercing peal of an alarm bell sliced through the market's din. The sound was alien, a jarring intrusion on the familiar sounds of Dawnstar. The marketplace fell silent. Conversations faltered, laughter ceased, and heads snapped towards the source of the alarm.
A clear, amplified voice followed the ring, emanating from magically enhanced conduits strategically placed throughout the city.
"Attention citizens of Dawnstar. This is a city-wide alert. Magical wards have detected unauthorized entry in the residential section. Multiple… unknown figures detected within the city's magical perimeter. All residents are advised to seek immediate shelter and secure their dwellings. The Guard are on the move! Repeat: Unknown figures detected in the residential section. Seek shelter immediately."
A ripple of panic spread through the marketplace. Merchants scrambled to cover their wares, shoppers hurried towards the nearest alleyways, and children clung to their parents' legs, their eyes wide with fear. The festive atmosphere evaporated, replaced by a tense, hushed dread.
Harin's hand tightened on the baton at her hip. Her eyes scanned the crowd, assessing the situation, her protective instincts flaring. Babette, however, remained remarkably calm, her expression unchanged, a faint smile playing on her lips, as if this sudden disruption was merely a minor inconvenience.
"It seems our patrol just became a bit more… interesting," Babette remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Indeed. Let's move. We need to reach the residential sector and assess the situation." Harin nodded grimly.
They moved quickly against the flow of the dispersing crowd, heading towards the narrow streets that led to the residential areas. As they ran, Harin could hear the sounds of the City Guard mobilizing, the clatter of armor and the shouts of commands echoing through the city.
As they reached the edge of the residential section, they found the streets eerily deserted. Doors were slammed shut, windows were locked, and only the wind whistling through the narrow alleys and the distant clang of guard's steel broke the silence. The magical streetlamps cast an eerie, almost theatrical light on the empty cobblestones.
Suddenly, a low growl echoed from a nearby alleyway. Harin and Babette exchanged a quick glance, their senses heightened. Harin loosened the baton in her grip, feeling the familiar thrum of magic within it, anticipating the shift to steel. Babette's eyes, however, remained fixed on the alleyway, a predatory gleam flickering beneath the surface of her usual childish innocence. It was a look Harin recognized, a flash of ancient hunger that belied Babette's carefully constructed facade.
Few figures emerged from the shadows, their forms hunched and distorted. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural crimson light, and elongated fangs glinted in the lamplight. The scent of them, a cloying mix of damp earth and stale blood, hung heavy in the air. They were vampires, their presence unmistakable.
"Well, well," Babette purred, her voice laced with a dangerous sweetness that was at odds with the tense atmosphere. "Looks like we found our… unknown figures." She almost seemed to relish the word, drawing it out with a subtle, almost serpentine hiss.
Harin's grip tightened on the baton.
"Let's finish this quickly," she murmured, her voice low and firm, her eyes fixed on the approaching vampires.
The city-wide alarm and the deserted streets made it clear, this was a situation that required immediate action, not stealth. The vampires snarled, their attention solely focused on Harin. They moved with a speed that belied their hunched postures, lunging forward in a coordinated attack.
Harin reacted instantly. The baton in her hand shimmered, the wood twisting and reforming into a gleaming steel longsword in a flash of light. She met the first vampire's charge with a swift parry, the clang of steel echoing through the narrow street.
The second and third vampires, taking advantage of the brief distraction, attempted to flank Harin, their clawed hands reaching for her throat and sides. But before they could reach her, a blur of motion erupted from beside Harin.
Babette, with unnerving speed, darted between the two flanking vampires, a small, wickedly sharp dagger appearing in each hand as if from thin air. She moved with an unnatural grace, her movements almost too fast for the eye to follow, a stark contrast to her usual childish demeanor.
She struck with precision, the daggers flashing like silver serpents. One blade plunged into the second vampire's leg, just behind the knee, severing tendons and causing the creature to stumble with a pained hiss.
The other dagger found its mark in the third vampire's side, piercing through its ribs. Before either vampire could fully react, Babette was gone, reappearing behind them with another swift strike, this time targeting the first vampire's exposed back.
Harin, momentarily taken aback by Babette's swift and brutal efficiency against two opponents at once, refocused on the remaining vampire, who was now snarling and spitting in rage. It lunged again, fangs bared, crimson eyes burning. Harin met the attack head-on, her movements fluid and precise.
She didn't simply parry the clumsy swipe; she felt the force of it against her blade, then twisted her wrist, redirecting the vampire's momentum, throwing it off balance. The longsword in her hand began to ripple and flow, the steel seeming to liquefy as it contracted and widened, reforming into a shorter, broader blade, leaving brief trails of light as the change occurred.
Before the vampire could recover, Harin threw the newly transformed blade. As it spun through the air, she vanished in a swirl of light, reappearing directly behind the vampire, her hand outstretched. The blade, now inches from the vampire's back, began to reconfigure mid-air, extending back into its original longsword form just as Harin grasped the hilt.
In one fluid motion, empowered by her teleportation, she drove the now-longsword through the vampire's chest. The creature let out a gurgling gasp before collapsing to the cobblestones.
As the vampires collapsed, a low, guttural voice rasped from him. It was barely a whisper, choked with blood, but Harin heard it clearly.
"Must… return… to Lord Harkon…"
The other vampire, hearing this, made a desperate lunge, attempting to scramble to its feet and flee. Babette, however, was faster. Before the vampire could take more than a few steps, she darted forward, her daggers flashing once more. Two quick strikes, one to the back of the knee, the other to the base of the skull, and the fleeing vampire crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Babette, having finished with the last vampire, now stood beside Harin, her daggers dripping with dark blood. She wiped the blades clean on the fallen vampires' tunics, her expression utterly serene, as if she had just finished playing a simple game.
Harin looked at Babette, a mixture of respect and a subtle understanding in her eyes.
"Efficient," she acknowledged, her voice low.
Babette tilted her head, her eyes wide and innocent once more, the predatory gleam completely vanished.
"Of course," she chirped, her voice light and cheerful. "It's a shame about the mess, though. Someone will have to clean that up."
Harin's brow furrowed. The name "Harkon" was somewhat familiar to her. She looked at Babette, a flicker of concern in her eyes.
"Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Hear what? Just the usual dying noises." Babette simply shrugged, her usual cheerful demeanor unwavering.
"He mentioned someone… Harkon. It sounded important." Harin pressed the issue.
Babette's expression shifted, a subtle flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.
"Perhaps," she conceded, her voice now a low murmur. "But it's nothing we need to concern ourselves with."
Harin wasn't convinced. This felt different. This felt like more than just a random attack.
"Babette," she said firmly, "report this to Ibnor. Tell him everything you heard. I'll stay here and make sure the residents are safe."
She gestured towards the house the vampires had been attacking, its door now bearing the marks of their assault.
Babette nodded, the brief flicker of seriousness vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
"Very well," she chirped, turning to leave.
With a final, almost mischievous glance at the fallen vampires, she vanished into the shadows of the alleyway.
Harin watched her go, a sense of unease settling in her stomach. She turned her attention to the nearby house, its door now bearing the marks of the vampires' assault, and began checking to ensure the residents inside were unharmed.
Meanwhile, Babette moved quickly through the darkened streets, heading towards the main hall where she knew she would find Ibnor. As she approached the entrance, she saw a large figure exiting. It was an Orc, clad in heavy, dark metal armor, reinforced with bands of what looked like bone or ivory. Strange, almost insectoid patterns were etched into the dark metal, giving it an unsettlingly organic appearance. The Orc himself was imposing, with broad shoulders and a grim expression.
Babette instinctively ducked into a nearby alcove, melting into the shadows. She waited patiently, her senses heightened, until the Orc had moved far enough away that he wouldn't notice her. Once he was gone, she emerged from her hiding place and slipped silently into the hall, her mind already formulating her report for Ibnor.
Babette slipped silently into the hall. The large room, usually bustling with activity, was now quiet, the late hour leaving only a few guards patrolling its perimeter. Ibnor sat at a large wooden table, studying a map spread out before him, the light of a single candle illuminating his weathered face. He looked up as Babette approached, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"Babette," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Has the situation been resolved?"
Babette nodded, her usual cheerful demeanor returning.
"Indeed," she chirped. "Though it was rather… messy."
She then proceeded to recount the encounter with the vampires, detailing the fight and, most importantly, the dying words of one of the creatures: "Must… return… to Lord Harkon…"
Ibnor's brow furrowed as he listened. When Babette finished, he let out a long, weary sigh, running a hand through his hair.
"I should have known… if the Dawnguard are active…" He muttered under his breath.
"Dawnguard?" she questioned. "What's that?" Babette tilted her head, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Ibnor looked at her, a hint of seriousness in his eyes.
"The Dawnguard," he explained, "are an ancient order of vampire hunters. They've existed for centuries, dedicated to eradicating the vampire threat. They're skilled warriors, experts in combat and tracking, and they possess knowledge of ancient techniques and weaponry effective against the undead." He paused, his gaze distant for a moment.
"That Orc you likely saw leaving just now… he was one of them."
"The one in the… unusual armor, just now?" Babette's eyes widened slightly.
"Yeah. They tend to have a rather… distinct look about them. I think you hid yourself when you saw him. That's the right call. It prevents unnecessary fuss." Ibnor nodded.
A small, almost mischievous smile plays on his lips. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper.
"Tell Mommy," he said, "that Daddy wants to know if she'd care to join him in meeting an old friend. It's been far too long."
Babette blinked, her expression shifting from curiosity to one of slight exasperation. She gave Ibnor a flat look.
"Am I your daughter," she asked dryly. "Or am I simply a messenger?"
Ibnor chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound.
"A bit of both, perhaps," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Now run along. And be careful on your way back."
Babette turned and walked away, muttering under her breath.
"I'm an assassin, a century old vampire, now reduced to mere messenger? Honestly…" She exited the hall, kicking a random stone in exasperation.
She rounded a corner not far from the residential area and nearly bumped into Harin, who was heading back to the hall.
"Harin!" Babette exclaimed, slightly surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"I was just coming to check on you," Harin replied, a concerned look on her face. "Everything alright?"
"Fine," Babette said, waving a dismissive hand. "Ibnor just wanted me to relay a message."
She then recounted her conversation with Ibnor, including the mention of the Dawnguard and the cryptic message.
"He said, and I quote, 'Tell Mommy that Daddy wants to know if she'd care to join him in meeting an old friend. It's been far too long.'" Babette rolled her eyes.
Harin frowned, her brow furrowed in thought. An old friend? She couldn't place it. Ibnor had mentioned a few people from his past, and none that would warrant such a cryptic message. But as she connected the message to the vampire attack and the name "Harkon," a fragmented memory surfaced.
A memory of a dimly lit crypt, cold stone, and a figure of breathtaking beauty, slumbering peacefully in a sarcophagus. It was a memory from long ago, a time when she had only known Ibnor as Loki. She remembered the way Ibnor had stopped, transfixed, staring at the sleeping vampire. She hadn't understood his reaction at the time, but now… now it clicked. He knew her.
A sudden surge of… something akin to jealousy, perhaps, shot through Harin. She recalled the almost reverent look on Ibnor's face as he'd gazed upon the sleeping vampire.
"I'll be damned," Harin muttered, her voice hardening. "If I allowed my boyfriend to get all smitten by some old hag…" With a sudden burst of speed, she turned and started striding purposefully back towards the main hall.
Babette stared after her, a mixture of confusion and amusement on her face.
"Old hag?" she repeated to herself, tilting her head. She watched Harin's retreating back for a moment, then shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Well, this is certainly more interesting than cleaning up dead vampires." With a quick burst of speed of her own, she chased after Harin.
Harin reached the main hall's entrance, pushing the heavy wooden doors open with more force than necessary. She scanned the room, her eyes quickly landing on Ibnor, who was still poring over the map. He looked up, surprised by her sudden entrance and the determined look on her face.
"Harin?" he questioned, his brow furrowing. "Is everything alright?"
"That depends," she said, her voice tight. She marched towards the table, stopping abruptly in front of him. "Babette told me about your 'old friend.'"
Ibnor's expression shifted, a flicker of understanding dawning in his eyes. He let out a small teasing smile.
"Ah," he said quietly. "So she told you about… Serana."
The name confirmed Harin's suspicions. The beautiful vampire from her memory. Serana. Just the thought of her made Harin's jaw clench.
"Yes, Serana," she said, her voice laced with a barely concealed edge. "Babette also relayed your… invitation."
"And you've come to accept?" Ibnor leaned back in his chair, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"I've come to understand a few things," Harin retorted, her gaze fixed on him. "Like the fact that you knew this… woman… long before I met you."
"I did," Ibnor said gently. "But I've only known her through… stories."
"Stories that clearly made quite an impression," Harin countered, her voice laced with sarcasm.
Ibnor chuckled softly.
"Serana is… a unique individual," he said, his tone becoming more thoughtful. "She's seen things, experienced things, that few others can comprehend. She's a relic of a bygone era."
"And you're drawn to relics, are you?" Harin asked, raising an eyebrow.
Before Ibnor could respond, Babette entered the hall, catching the tail end of their conversation. She leaned against a nearby pillar, her arms crossed, a knowing smile on her face.
"Oh, this is getting interesting," she murmured.
"Harin," he began, his voice softening. "It's not like that. Serana is… an important figure. Her knowledge could be invaluable in dealing with this new vampire threat."
"So you're saying this is strictly business?" Harin asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Ibnor glanced at Babette, then back at Harin. A thoughtful look crossed his face, and he paused for a moment, considering his words.
"I think I understand now. Perhaps… you've forgotten something," he said quietly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Did you forget… our… Hometown? It's understandable, time flows differently for everyone."
Harin studied his face for a moment, searching for any hint of deception. She saw only sincerity in his eyes. And then it clicked. Their true origin, a lifetime that seems so far in time. His time travel that brought him to the past, meeting her younger self. The reason he knew Serana, all of Skyrim.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice softening slightly, blush creeping on her ear. "But if I see you gazing at her with that same… reverence… that I saw in that crypt all those years ago…" She let the threat hang in the air.
Ibnor gave her a genuine smile.
"You have nothing to worry about," he assured her. He then turned to Babette.
"Thank you for delivering the message," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Harin and I have some… strategizing to do." He gestured towards a quieter corner of the hall.
Babette pushed herself off the pillar, giving them both a knowing look.
"Strategizing," she repeated, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Of course."
She turned and exited the hall, leaving Harin and Ibnor to their conversation.