The warmth of the Dawnstar hearth crackled, casting dancing shadows across the hall. The remnants of the evening meal lay cleared, and a quiet stillness settled over the room. Harin, restless as ever, paced before Ibnor, her brow furrowed in thought.
"Alright, so, what's the plan now?" she asked, her voice sharp and direct. "We've got Serana here, Harkon breathing down our necks, and… well, whatever Sorine's going to build in that workshop. What's our plan now?"
"There is no 'us,' for now, Harin." Ibnor, seated calmly by the fire, regarded her with a serene smile.
"What do you mean, 'no us'?" Harin stopped pacing, her eyes narrowing.
"I mean that I have… matters to attend to. My path diverges from yours, for a time." A soft chuckle escaped Ibnor's lips.
"Diverges? Where?" Harin demanded, her tone laced with suspicion. "And why?"
"Matters of… consequence," Ibnor replied, his voice gentle but firm. "Matters that require my undivided attention. As for you, your path lies with Serana."
"With Serana?" Harin echoed, her voice incredulous. "What am I supposed to do with her? Babysit her?"
"Accompany her," Ibnor corrected, his smile widening slightly. "She is in need of guidance, of companionship. And you, Harin, possess a unique ability to… connect with people."
"Connect? I'm more likely to connect my fist with someone's face," Harin grumbled, crossing her arms. "I'm not like you, Ibnor. I can't just talk sense into people. I'm an action kind of person."
"And that is precisely why you are perfect for this," Ibnor said, his voice warm and reassuring. "You are genuine, Harin. You are honest. And Serana needs that. She needs someone who will speak plainly, who will not sugarcoat the truth. She needs you."
Harin shifted uncomfortably, her gaze dropping to the floor.
"But… how am I supposed to convince her to stay? To actually join Dawnstar? She's got her own problems, her own… family issues."
"You don't need to convince her of anything," Ibnor said, his voice soft. "Just be yourself. Be the friend she needs. Show her the strength and kindness you possess. And if she decides to join us, then that is her choice. It is your responsibility to offer her the choice."
"Just be myself?" Harin repeated, her voice laced with skepticism. "That's it?"
"That is all," Ibnor assured her, his eyes twinkling. "Your presence alone will be enough. You have a way of making people feel… safe, Harin. Even when you're being your most… direct."
"Safe? I'm pretty sure I scare most people." Harin snorted, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Perhaps," Ibnor conceded, his smile widening. "But they know you will protect them. And that is a powerful thing."
He rose from his seat.
"Do not worry, Harin. You are more capable than you realize. And Serana will be in good hands."
"And where are you going?" Harin asked, her voice laced with concern.
"I'm," Ibnor said, his gaze distant, "making a myth."
"What are you talking about?" Harin asked, genuinely confused. "This is not the time to be cryptic."
Ibnor, a hint of amusement still lingering in his eyes, opened his mouth to answer Harin's question. But before any words could form, a commotion erupted from beyond the hall's heavy wooden doors. The muffled sounds of raised voices and hurried footsteps sliced through the quiet stillness, shattering the intimate atmosphere.
Ibnor and Harin exchanged a quick glance, a silent question hanging in the air. Harin's hand instinctively moved towards the hilt of her sword, her eyes alert. Ibnor, however, remained calm, his expression unreadable.
Before either of them could react, the doors burst open with a resounding bang. Babette stood framed in the doorway, her small figure radiating an air of unusual seriousness. The sight of the young vampire girl, her face a mask of concern with a pronounced frown marring her usually placid features, was almost comical. Ibnor had to bite back a smile, the absurdity of the situation offering a brief respite from the rising tension.
"Your Majesty," she announced, her voice uncharacteristically firm, "there's a vampire outside. She insists she knows you." Babette wasted no time on pleasantries.
"Another one? What is this, vampire central?" Harin's eyebrows shot up.
"Did she give a name?" Ignoring Harin's quip, Ibnor addressed Babette.
"No, Your Majesty," Babette replied, her frown deepening. "But she seems... familiar. And she's quite insistent."
"Bring her in, Babette." Ibnor, his curiosity piqued, nodded towards the door.
Babette stepped aside, and a figure emerged from the hallway. It was Serana. Her expression was a mixture of apprehension and relief, her eyes darting between Ibnor and Harin.
"Serana?" Harin exclaimed, her surprise evident. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to..."
"Rest?" Serana finished, a wry smile touching her lips. "I tried. But... things happened."
"Please, Serana, have a seat. Tell us what brings you back so soon." Ibnor gestured towards a chair.
Serana settled into the offered chair, her posture tense, her eyes flicking nervously between Harin and Ibnor.
"I'd rather not be here either," she began, her voice low and urgent, "but I needed to talk to you. It's important, so please just listen before your friend, here, loses his patience." She glanced at Babette who was glaring at her.
"At ease Babette. She meant no harm. She's… family." Ibnor said.
"If you say so… but I'll be keeping an eye," Babette replied and vanished into the shadow.
"Charming. Didn't realize you ran a… vampire daycare here." Serana said, making a dry humor.
"What? You wanted to enroll too?" Ibnor teased.
"Enroll? Oh, I've had my fill of mandatory bloodletting and lectures on avoiding sunlight, thank you very much. But I suppose you do offer a more… relaxed curriculum." She pauses, her expression shifting to seriousness. "Though, speaking of family, it's about mine. And why I'm here."
"What about you?" Harin asked.
"The reason I was down there... and why I had the Elder Scroll. It all comes back to my father. I'm guessing you figured this part out already, but my father's not exactly a good person. Even by vampire standards. He wasn't always like that, though. There was... a turn. He stumbled onto this obscure prophecy and just kind of lost himself in it." Serana said.
"What sort of prophecy?" Harin asked.
"It's pointless and vague, like all prophecies. The part he latched onto said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. That's what he's after. He wants to control the sun, have vampires control the world." Serana continued.
"What do you mean... "lost himself"?" Harin asked again.
"He just became absorbed... obsessed. It was kind of sick, actually. The prophecy said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. For someone who fancied himself as vampire royalty, that's pretty seductive. Anyway, my mother and I didn't feel like inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. That's why I was sealed away with the Scroll."
A flicker of dark memory crossed Serana's eyes, a brief image of her father's cruel smile. She pushed the image away, focusing on the people in front of her.
"I'm assuming you want us to help you?" Harin inquired.
"That was the plan, yes. Assuming you can trust the word of a vampire. And from what I've seen, that shouldn't be an issue." Serana replied.
"But why us?" Harin asked.
"I'm sorry, I had heard there were dragonborns here. I thought they might want to know about a vampire plot to enslave the rest of the world. Was I wrong?"
"You took a big risk coming here." Harin said
"I did. But something about you makes me think I can trust you. I hope I'm not wrong." Serana said, her gaze lingering on Ibnor, a silent plea in her eyes.
"No, you're right. You've convinced me. Harin said.
Ibnor raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his calm expression.
"I knew it. I'm nothing if not persuasive." Serana smiled.
"Well, I suppose we can give it a try," Ibnor said, his gaze fixed on the Elder Scroll resting on the table. "I can attempt to decipher its contents."
"No!" Harin interjected, her voice sharp. "Absolutely not."
"Harin, there's no harm to try," Ibnor reasoned, his tone calm.
"No harm? Are you serious?" Harin retorted, her eyes flashing. "We have no idea what that thing will do. Remember what happened last time? You vanished! I'm not letting you risk another time displacement, or whatever that was." She stepped between Ibnor and the scroll, her posture tense.
Serana raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
"Time displacement?" she asked, her gaze shifting between Harin and Ibnor. She looked at Ibnor with a more intense curiosity.
'It was a unique circumstance, Harin. I doubt it would happen again." Ibnor attempted to placate Harin. "It is a risk, but a necessary one, and one that I am willing to take."
'Doubt? That's not good enough!" Harin snapped, her voice rising. "I'm not taking any chances."
"Fine," Ibnor gave in to Harin. "Looks like your only option is to find a Moth Priest."
"A Moth Priest? Where would we even find one? Do you have any ideas?" Harin asked, turning to Serana, her expression a mix of frustration and determination.
"Well, back before I... you know," Serana began, gesturing vaguely, "The College of Winterhold was the first place I'd think to go for any kind of magic or historical thing. The wizards know about all kinds of things that people shouldn't know about. Actually, now that I think of it... I'm going to come along with you. I've been really wanting to get out and explore a bit."
"What do you know about Elder Scrolls?" Harin asked, considering the option.
"I mean... as much as anyone. Not a lot. You'd figure a couple hundred years locked away with one would have given me some insights, but no. Turns out you don't learn much from just sleeping with something," Serana replied, a touch of dry humor in her voice.
"I guess we'll have to keep looking for that Moth Priest, then," Harin said, a hint of resignation in her tone.
"I guess so," Serana agreed, her expression thoughtful. "The College might have some leads, though. Or maybe even know where a Moth Priest might be."
Ibnor gestured towards the hall's entrance. "Then, you can begin preparations for your journey to the College of Winterhold. You should gather supplies and ensure you have suitable provisions, and..."
"Supplies?" Harin interrupted, her voice laced with impatience. "Provisions? Ibnor, we're ready now. There's no need for all that."
"Indeed. The sooner we reach the College, the sooner we can find a Moth Priest." Serana nodded in agreement, a flicker of eagerness in her eyes.
Ibnor raised a hand, halting their eager rush.
"Patience, my lovely ladies. I understand your eagerness, but it is currently night."
"So?" Harin asked, her brow furrowed. "What's the problem?"
"Yes, what does the time of day matter?" Serana echoed, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
"The problem, my dear companions, is that normal people are asleep at this hour. Even if you were to reach the College now, you would only be a nuisance to its residents, who are likely resting." Ibnor sighed, rubbing his temple with a weary gesture.
"Normal people?" Harin scoffed. "Mages aren't exactly known for their… normalcy. They might be up all night, experimenting with arcane energies or whatever it is they do."
"And besides," Serana added, "I'm a vampire. Night is when we're most active."
Ibnor raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Very well. Do as you please. I have offered my counsel. If you insist on traveling at this hour, I will not stop you."
With a shared glance, Harin and Serana turned and strode out of the hall, their footsteps echoing in the quiet night. Ibnor watched them go, a faint smile playing on his lips.
The heavy doors sealed the hall, followed by a faint rustle from the shadows. Babette stood there, a small, still figure. Ibnor, his gaze distant, blinked.
"Babette. Right." A wry grin tugged at his lips. "You know, one would think I'd learn to avoid… interesting people."
Babette's eyes, large and dark, held a silent answer: You collect them. She slipped back into the darkness, leaving Ibnor to his contemplation.
The embers in the hearth glowed softly, casting long, dancing shadows across the hall. Ibnor, now alone, settled into a comfortable chair, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. A quiet stillness enveloped him, a moment of solitude amidst the swirling currents of his plans.
He allowed his thoughts to drift, reviewing the progress he had made. Ultimately he is aiming to split from the empire, gaining independence. With independence as the goal, he had split his plans into few phases. The first phase of his plan is to establish power and reputations. It was a success. Dawnstar, once a struggling village, now thrived, its prosperity a testament to his leadership. His reputation, too, had spread far and wide, a blend of respect, awe, and perhaps a touch of apprehension. His strength and the prosperity of Dawnstar have made him a force to be reckoned with.
The Empire, with its heavy hand and distant decrees, was a yoke he no longer wished to bear. Dawnstar, and its people, deserved autonomy. He had built a strong foundation, and the time for the next step was at hand. Now, it was time for the second phase, creating a myth. He will actively cultivate a myth around his figure, hinting at a growing and mysterious power. This creates uncertainty and fear among his potential enemies and can be acting as a deterrent.
He considered the intricacies of the task ahead. It would require careful maneuvering, delicate negotiations, and perhaps, a show of strength. He needed to gather his allies, assess his resources, and formulate a strategy that would secure Dawnstar's future.
A decision solidified in his mind. He will call a meeting tomorrow. He needed to consult with his closest advisors, share his vision, and gather their input. He would need to be decisive, yet open to counsel.
With a sense of purpose, Ibnor rose from his chair, extinguishing the remaining embers with a flick of his wrist. The hall was plunged into near darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the windows. He made his way to his chambers, his mind already turning to the intricacies of the meeting he would convene in the morning.
As he drifted off to sleep, a quiet resolve settled over him. The path ahead would be challenging, but he was prepared. Dawnstar would be free.
The morning arrived, casting a pale, golden light across Dawnstar. Ibnor, having slept soundly, felt a renewed sense of purpose. He dressed in his finest attire, a subtle display of power, and made his way to the grand hall, where his advisors were already gathering.
The room buzzed with anticipation. They knew a meeting called at such short notice meant something significant was afoot. As they settled into their seats, Ibnor took his place at the head of the table, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his trusted confidants.
"My friends," Ibnor began, his voice resonating with authority, "I have called you here today to discuss the future of Dawnstar. We have achieved prosperity, and our strength is undeniable. But we cannot remain under the Empire's thumb forever. We must seek independence."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"Our first phase, establishing Dawnstar's strength, is complete," Ibnor continued. "Now, we move to the second: cultivating a myth."
"A myth?" Delphine, ever pragmatic, raised an eyebrow. "How do we achieve that?"
"By leveraging the power of the unknown," Ibnor replied. "The less people know for certain about my abilities, the more they'll imagine. We must let rumors and whispers fill in the gaps."
"Indeed," Esbern chimed in, his voice ancient and wise. "History is replete with examples of leaders whose mystique amplified their power. Think of the Dragonborn, whose true nature was shrouded in legend."
"Exactly," Ibnor nodded. "And to reinforce that mystique, we will use subtle demonstrations. Nazir, your network of informants will spread tales of my… unusual feats. Not overt displays, but hints of power that defy explanation."
"I understand," Nazir said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "A merchant 'rescued' from bandits by a sudden, inexplicable storm, perhaps? Or a wild beast that mysteriously obeys my… commands?"
"Precisely," Ibnor said. "And Illia, you will focus on controlled information leaks. Carefully crafted stories, hints of hidden powers, even prophecies. We will use the bards, the merchants, the common folk. They will spread the word, unknowingly, like seeds carried on the wind."
"I can weave tales of your lineage, perhaps," Illia suggested, her voice soft but firm. "Hints of ancient bloodlines, of forgotten magic."
"Excellent," Ibnor said. "And we must all remember to cultivate a persona. Brinna, your keen eye for detail will be invaluable in ensuring my actions, words, and even appearance contribute to the myth."
"I can oversee the crafting of your attire," Brinna offered. "Subtle symbols of power, fabrics that shimmer in the light, a sense of otherworldliness."
"And let's not forget the importance of heroic deeds," Delphine added. "Saving people from danger, championing justice. These actions will solidify your legend."
"And remember, timing and context are crucial," Esbern reminded them. "A subtle display of power after a victory will have a much greater impact than the same display at any other time."
Ibnor then began to give specific instructions, mentioning the spread of rumors of unusual storms, or animals that seemed to obey his commands. He also spoke of how certain bards would begin to sing songs of a powerful leader that could see into the future.
"We must create a sense of the uncanny," Ibnor said, his voice low and compelling. "A sense that Dawnstar is no longer merely a town, but a force of nature."
"There are already rumors of you being able to summon a dragon. We can use it to our advantage." Illia added.
"Good point, that will further strengthen the myth's legitimacy with so many eye witnesses at Whiterun." Esbern agreed.
The meeting continued, with each advisor contributing their expertise, complementing Ibnor's plan. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, a sense of purpose filled the room.
"Excellent," Ibnor said, his gaze sweeping across the table. "With these strategies in place, we will begin to weave our tapestry of legend. Remember, my friends, while we cultivate this myth, we must also remain vigilant. The Empire will not remain idle."
He paused, allowing his words to settle. "Before we conclude, let us reiterate the key considerations for effective myth-making."
"Consistency," he stated, his voice firm. "We must maintain consistency in our actions and our persona. Any inconsistencies could damage our myth, creating cracks in the foundation we are building."
"Subtlety," he continued. "Do not be too overt in your attempts to create a myth. Let it develop organically through rumors, whispers, and speculation. The most potent myths are those that seem to arise naturally."
"Long-term strategy," Esbern interjected, his voice echoing with the weight of centuries. "Myth-making is not a fleeting endeavor. It takes time, patience, and unwavering dedication to build a powerful legend."
"Precisely," Ibnor nodded. "And we must strive to control the narrative. Be aware of how our actions are perceived and try to guide the stories that circulate. We cannot allow others to twist our legend for their own purposes."
He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a quiet intensity. "And above all, remember the goal. The goal of myth-making is not merely to intimidate our enemies, though that is a valuable byproduct. It is to inspire our followers, to create a sense of unity and purpose. A powerful myth can be a potent tool for achieving our political and strategic goals. It is about making people believe in our power, even if they do not fully understand it."
"It's about making them believe in Dawnstar," Delphine added, her voice laced with determination.
"Indeed," Ibnor agreed. "Dawnstar will become more than a town. It will become a symbol of strength, independence, and the power of the unknown."
He rose from his seat, the meeting drawing to a close. "Let us begin. Let us weave our legend, and let Dawnstar rise."
"That concludes our meeting," Ibnor announced, his voice carrying a note of finality. "You are all dismissed, except Nazir. I require a moment of your time."
The advisors filed out, their footsteps echoing in the grand hall, leaving Ibnor and Nazir alone. The heavy doors closed, sealing them in the quiet space.
"Nazir," Ibnor began, his gaze sharp and focused, "I wish to inquire about the Wraiths."
Nazir nodded, his expression serious. "They have been… effective, Your Majesty. The Emperor's assassination attempt was foiled. The individual behind it has been… eliminated."
"And the repercussions?" Ibnor asked, his tone laced with curiosity.
"Victoria Vicci is… very satisfied," Nazir replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "She has promised to forge strong economic ties with Dawnstar, a testament to the Wraiths'… discretion."
"Excellent," Ibnor said, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "The Wraiths and the Spectres. I wish to involve them in the myth-building plan."
Nazir's eyebrows rose slightly. "The Wraiths and the Spectres? They are… specialized."
"Precisely," Ibnor said. "The Wraiths will ensure the… dissemination of certain rumors, the subtle… encouragement of specific narratives. Their skills in… eliminating obstacles will also prove invaluable. The Spectres, with their network of informants and their ability to move unseen, will be instrumental in gathering and controlling information. They are masters of the shadows, and we will use their expertise to weave our own."
"They are accustomed to operating in the shadows, not crafting legends," Nazir commented, a hint of skepticism in his voice.
"They will adapt," Ibnor replied, his voice firm. "Their skills are not limited to assassination and espionage. They are masters of manipulation, of control. They will learn to manipulate perception, to control the flow of information, to craft a legend as easily as they eliminate a target."
"I see," Nazir said, nodding slowly. "You wish them to become… myth-weavers."
"Precisely," Ibnor confirmed. "They will be the instruments of our legend, the architects of our myth. Ensure they understand the importance of subtlety, of discretion. Their involvement must remain unseen, their influence unfelt."
"It will be done," Nazir said, his voice laced with assurance. "They will be… discreet."
"Good," Ibnor said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Now, go. Let the shadows begin their work."
Nazir bowed his head and slipped out of the hall, his footsteps fading into the silence. Ibnor was left alone, his thoughts turning to the intricate web of myth and power he was weaving. The Wraiths and the Spectres, the silent instruments of his will, would ensure that the legend of Dawnstar, and its leader, would spread like wildfire, a force as potent and unseen as the shadows themselves.