Lucien returned to Fort Farragut after several days on the road tracking movements of another Speaker. In the end he had to admit that it was getting him nowhere – the Speaker appeared to follow his usual schedule pretending to be a traveling merchant.

“Just because he’s a nasty piece of work, he doesn’t have to be a traitor,” Lucien had to admit to himself. “Just look how he treats everyone… terrible. But I suppose it does keep questions to a minimum… no one wants to talk to him and clients aren’t contacting us for the conversation. I don’t see him joining Arquen either… he’s too full of himself.” He shook his head, crossed that Speaker off his mental list of suspects and returned to Cheydinhal.

Back at his fort he immediately noticed a pile of old letters and scrolls on the table – another report. He looked around – Lena was sleeping in the corner, tired and wounded, her face gaunt. “She’ll need blood,” he thought. A freshly written note lay on top of the other papers. “She’ll stay till nightfall, good,” he thought. That gave him some time.

…

“I need a special item,” Lucien greeted Borba at her shop. “A bottle of your special beverage that you supply to our house. Is it possible to get one without a pre-order?” He smiled at her.

“Normally no,” Borba said slowly, watching him. “The stuff doesn’t keep, so we don’t stock it…” She paused, then looked up. “However, if you need it, we can deliver. Wait here.”

She went to the basement, Lucien heard some raised voices, some noise, a smack and a pop, then Borba returned with a bottle of dark viscous liquid, freshly corked.

“On the house,” she said handing it to Lucien. “Sacrifices have to be made sometimes. Magra will be fine.”

“Thank you,” Lucien took the bottle but looked at Borba with surprise. “That’s unexpected.”

“A friend in need… you know what they say,” she shrugged. “It was time we showed our colours. We can see what’s going on, we keep an ear to the ground. You’ve got friends in this town, Speaker.”

At that moment another customer opened the door to the shop, so Lucien smiled and nodded goodbye.

Back at the fort Lena was still asleep, her breathing calm, her body relaxed. “She’s done with the wraith for now,” Lucien thought, covering her with a blanket. “Perhaps I should get a bedroll…”

…

Lena woke up refreshed but hungry. She looked around – she was in a fort. “Where am I, I wonder?” Her dreams had been vivid, it was hard to remember where she went to sleep. She sat up. A blanket? She didn’t remember blankets… Her body had no heat to conserve, she did not feel the cold. She rubbed her eyes and peered into the darkness.

She heard noises, someone was moving around… she smelled blood… she smelled… oh no! How could she forget where she went to sleep! She jumped up but her knees were weak, she was so hungry…

“Here, drink this,” Lucien had heard her wake up. He was holding a bottle of blood. “Drink, then we’ll talk.”

…

“I apologise for coming here in this condition,” Lena said in a small voice after she emptied the bottle. “I should have fed first. It won’t happen again.”

“You are forgiven,” Lucien smiled. “I am glad you trusted me enough to come here… in this condition. You are wounded, you need rest. Come, let’s eat, then tell me what happened.”

The smell of roast made Lena realise that she hadn’t eaten in days… Blood was not the only sustenance that she was lacking. She’d been neglecting herself, and it was having an effect. She gratefully accepted the food.

“This contract had been switched and it was a trap,” Lena prodded the scroll. “It was clear enough, but I still had to follow up, or else the chain of dead drops would have been broken.”

“Where did you get this?” Lucien was reading the contract.

“The well behind the chapel in Anvil.”

“I never put anything there,” Lucien looked up. “The chain has been diverted.” He finished reading, then prepared to listen again. “Continue.”

“I went to the ruin, covered it hall by hall, found all those old letters… Forgeries. I thought they were fake, yet still could not stop, could not just leave… The person who wrote them knew too much.”

“Agreed,” Lucien nodded. “They are important, in all their fake glory. Continue.”

“There’s an ancient vampire in that ruin… my great-great-uncle or something. He is real.”

Lucien looked up.

“An Altmer?”

“How did you know?” Lena was taken aback.

“I didn’t, but I knew you had distant family among the Altmer… I cannot tell you more, I am sorry,” he smiled. “I am still a Speaker, exile or no exile…”

“You too?”

“Of course. But continue.”

“Well, the Altmer first tried to kill me but I escaped…” Lena blushed at that. “Ran for my life… I was no match for him! But he didn’t pursue me. I ran all the way to the entrance hall, and there I saw two idiots enter talking about collecting their reward for planting those letters,” she smirked. “They were the reward, of course… So I followed. I had hoped that the vampire’s senses would dull immediately after feeding, so I slipped into his hall a little after those two men. I found that newish scroll but haven’t read it… The vampire heard me. He could have killed me right there but he didn’t… for the family’s sake, he said,” she looked up, still surprised by it. “He knew all about me! But I still don’t know his name. He said someone had contacted him to arrange this… someone from the Brotherhood… he was to kill me in exchange for those two men. But I don’t think anyone can order him around, and he let me go.”

“I had expected something like this,” Lucien looked somber. “The ruin was filled with other vampires, right?”

“Vampires and undead,” Lena nodded.

“You are getting too close, the traitor is now trying to get you killed.”

“The Brotherhood is already trying to get me killed, is that not enough?”

“Evidently not, for you are still here,” Lucien smiled. He paused, then spoke in a decisive tone. “There will be no further dead drops. You are meant to collect your reward in Anvil again… I’ll go. Anvil seems to be the key…” He looked through the papers again, then looked up. “Do you have a place to stay? A house in town somewhere? It is safest in town…”

“I have a shack on the Waterfront and a small house in Bravil…”

“That is all?” Lucien smiled at her. “The Hero of Kvatch and Bruma is not rolling in gold and jewels? Forgive me, I know you detest those titles.”

“The Blades can keep their fancy armour,” Lena hissed through her teeth. “But the Oblivion Crisis is bigger than them.”

“It is,” Lucien nodded. “How far will you go?”

“Till the end,” Lena sounded grave. “Mehrunes Dagon will move onto the Imperial City.”

“He is a Daedric Prince.”

“I know. But what else can we do? We either stop him or none of it will matter. The Emperor thought we could do it. We have to try.” She looked at him with determination. “I have a feeling it won’t be long.”

“I have a feeling you will win, Wolf…” Lucien said softly. “You are indeed a child no longer…”

…

They talked through the night, having forgotten about the time, and when Lena declared she had to leave, she found the sun above the horizon. Again, she had to wait it out. They talked some more, going over the members of the Black Hand that Lena chose to spare – Lucien told her all about them. After that it was clear that only a few more members remained…

“That’s assuming I know them all which I don’t,” he pointed out. “That’s what makes it so hard… But as you say, we must try. I’ll contact you… one way or the other. Until then, you have bigger fish to fry.”

He insisted that she should sleep in his bed before going.

“This is the only bed in the entire fort and you are wounded,” he overruled her protests. “You have a wraith to fight as well. How is it for you? Still getting stronger?”

“I don’t think so,” Lena shook her head. “It stopped growing stronger when I stopped expecting to die… It’s still a bother, but I manage,” she smiled.

“You are immortal, remember that,” Lucien pointed out. “Should you die… do try to rise again.”

“I… never thought of that… I’d rather not put it to the test, myself…” she smiled light-heartedly. It was good to talk to a friend.

…

After that day the events around the Oblivion Crisis seemed to be getting wilder and wilder, and Lena got completely embroiled in them, so much in fact that she forgot all about the assassins that the Brotherhood kept sending after her. One night she was camping in the Colovian Highlands having just fed on a lone bandit she found at the camp. Her senses dulled, she did not hear anyone coming…

The assassin leaped upon her aiming for the heart, but again her iron breastplate saved her. They rolled on the ground, Lena couldn’t cast any spells. The assassin was skilled and fast, Lena was sluggish, having just fed, she wasn’t used to not feel like a vampire… She grabbed him and bit his neck, he reeled, but the shock was enough for Lena to free herself from his grip and cast a vanishing spell. She backed off slowly making sure the assassin lost her. Then she attacked. Her sword did find his heart.

“Oof, that was a hard one,” she was looking down on him. “There’s something to say for heavy armour,” she smiled, wiping blood off her breastplate. “But next time I might not be so lucky… I should learn to feed less… it dulls the senses… what a bother…”

She thought she had learned her lesson. Feed more often but take little each time, and people won’t even suffer. That did require her to feed every other day, or else she wasn’t fit for battle. It was a bother either way.

One day she got ambushed several times in a row. Another assassin, some bandits, an ogre and even goblins – everyone seemed to want a piece of the vampire. She was hungry, both for food and for blood, she just finished a trek through a large ruin in search of yet another artefact for the late Emperor’s son… it was all getting too much. She was near Cheydinhal and had no where to go… “I am glad you trusted me enough to come here in this condition,” Lucien’s words sounded in her mind. It seemed he meant it… She went to his fort.

As Lena descended the rope ladder, she could smell him, he was there. He cloaked in chameleon but she knew where he stood. Her blood boiled, her hunger was overwhelming. She lost a lot of her own blood… if she could not feed, she would die. Yet the first thing she tried was to climb back up the ladder. Her strength failed her and she fell.

“You must leave now,” she said in a hollow, hoarse voice. “Do not return for half a day at least… I shall be gone by then, one way or the other.” She waited and listened, having crawled away from the ladder, but Lucien did not move. “I can smell you… you cannot hide… my eyes grow dim, I cannot hold it for much longer… leave now!”

Darkness descended upon her, her will squashed under the weight of her famine… She could not remember what happened next.

…

When Lena woke up, she realised that she was in Lucien’s fort. Her wounds had been bandaged, she smelled aloe vera, lady’s mantle, mugwort seeds, lavender, fruits and mushrooms… too many scents to make out the exact composition. She tried to remember what happened… ruins, undead, bandits, perhaps an assassin… she got to Lucien’s fort somehow, she couldn’t recall… He evidently bandaged her wounds…

She got up, her things were laid out on a bench but Lucien wasn’t there. She left him a note, “Thank you for saving my life!”, then she left for the Imperial City to crown the late Emperor’s son.