"Emperors, nobles, generals, soldiers, the battles between humans and elves, these are indeed unappetizing and boring things." The archbishop patiently listened to Islaan's complaints, and then spoke, "But about the position We shouldn’t talk too much about the existence of the Light Realm and Annihilation, Islaan.” Old Midorance said. "Just for your own good."
The Red Guards moved their mouths, but in the end they did not say any more remarks that made ordinary people uneasy. He grasped the bottom of the wine glass with some confusion, gently rubbed the lines on it, and remained silent.
"Islaan, in Cyrodiil, the Gate of Annihilation has been opened." The archbishop's words made Islaan's eyelids twitch. His originally upright body was now almost the same as a javelin, covered with calluses. His right hand moved, as if he would suddenly pull out a sharp blade from somewhere.
Old Midorance knew that it was a conditioned reflex honed by the young, strong and serious warrior in front of him after years of life and death fighting. The Archbishop looked at the Red Guard's cold green eyes and seemed to see himself in his youth. , which made his heart soften.
"There is evidence that our enemies are planning something. No, I will not talk about who the enemies are, but the Lord of Mercy knows who they are."
Islaan immediately snorted, looking a little dangerous.
Old Midorance forced himself not to dwell on the dangerous thoughts of the child he regarded as his own, and continued: "... Cyrodiil is not far from us, but it is not close either. Things there include the emperor and the saints. The people in the palace will handle it."
Old Midorance almost had his back to the fireplace, but Islaan still saw a worried look on the Archbishop's old face: Although his hair was well taken care of, the left strand of hair was full of Nordic style. The ends of the braid were even tied with silver rings, but the snow-like hair color and the loose skin on the forehead, neck, and exposed hands and feet all showed that although the old man in front of him was also deeply affected by Stan, Dar's favor, but he is still just a Nord, and time has never stayed on him for even a second.
However, Standal's amulet was hung on the Archbishop's chest, and the gems on it emitted a soft light, proving that the eyes of the Lord of Mercy and Justice were indeed focused on the old man in front of him.
"There is turmoil all over Skyrim, Islaan," said the Archbishop. "Some of it is just the gibberish of country folk after drinking too much mead. When they calm down, it won't matter; but."
"A terrible force is gathering, like lava hidden under a volcano, Islaan. If we cannot discover and extinguish them in time, what awaits us will be eternal night."
Islaan squeezed the wine glass tightly and drank up the almost untouched wine from southern Cyrodiil without hesitation. He said coldly: "That's just right. My crossbow and war hammer are already thirsty. Just let them come."
"Although I don't want to say this, maybe you are right this time." The Archbishop sighed, "We need more information! Islaan!" The old man's tone became stern.
"Yes, Archbishop." The Red Guard stood up.
"Go to Duran and the others," the Archbishop said, "and head toward the Reach region. Maybe you will find more ominous omens. But remember, the light is with you."
Islaan exhaled a hot breath and knocked on his chest hard, making the cold chainmail rattle.
Watching the Red Guards leave, Midorans smiled, but soon the Archbishop reconsidered. He called the guards and continued to issue orders to others.
Islaan hurriedly walked out of the bishop's tower first. When he breathed in the icy cold wind in the sky that was as extreme as the scorching weather of Hammerfall, his fiery heart finally cooled down a little.
He nodded to the guards guarding the door of the bishop's tower, took a moment to figure out the direction, and headed towards the prayer room.
Kaka.
Although there were handymen and other guards cleaning up, the snowflakes in the sky were still falling continuously and piled up on the stone floor. The cold boots of the Red Guards wearing iron armor made a crisp sound when they stepped on it.
At this time, the twin moons Mathur and Sekunda, which were originally obscured by dark clouds in the sky, also jumped out at the right time, and the holy light once again fell on the world. Together with the starlight in the sky, Islaan seemed to have returned to the wilderness in the sky.
Islaan couldn't help but pause for a moment before taking steps to move forward.
The prayer room is not too far from the bishop's tower, and Israan soon arrived at the hall where the sacred vessels of the Lord of Justice, Mercy and Mercy are enshrined.
Pushing open the thick wooden door, the murmured prayers inside pass through the specially constructed stone walls and hit the earchlea directly. Combined with the solemn atmosphere around you and the candlelight as bright as day, people are immersed in the rumored light. The world is general.
Of course, this is only what believers and some scholars say. In fact, mortals cannot understand and glimpse the original spirits (et"ada), including the creation Holy Spirit we are familiar with in the past and what the elves call "not our ancestors" The Daedra Lords are all inferences and even conjectures made by humans and even elves to make it easier for them to understand these greatnesses, but the Holy Spirit and the beings in Annihilation have never given these 'definitions' of humans and elves a positive view. response. They just looked down at Nirn and humans (elves) from above.
The cold wind alarmed many people, and the monk on duty even cast a reproachful look at the Red Guards. Islaan nodded casually and searched among the crowd.
"Dulan." The Red Guard's eyes lit up and he walked towards someone.
Not many people know when Duran and Islaan met, but it is undeniable that the relationship between the two has always been very close, and they are always assigned together when they go on missions.
Duran Seifer, who was praying seriously with his head lowered, raised his head and showed a wry smile, "Israan, you shouldn't yell here. Everyone is praying devoutly. It's too rude of you."
But Islaan said: "Well, let mercy remain in the halls of the Lord of Mercy, and now it is time for us to achieve justice."
The Nord, who had lush blond hair, a tall body, and kind brows with a hint of determination, blinked his lake-like blue eyes in surprise, and lowered his clasped hands.
"You mean?"
"The Archbishop has an order." The Red Guard said vaguely. But he believed that the friend in front of him would definitely understand, just as he knew that under the pious face of his friend, there was a certain fanatical heart.
Sure enough, after hearing what Islaan said, Duran Sever stood up with a smile in his eyes. "So what are we waiting for?"
The Nord was taller than Islaan, and his muscles were gnarled. It was hard to believe that he was an ascetic from Stendar. But only those who really know Dulan know that the monk's usual weapon is a heavy two-handed war hammer.
The two walked out of the prayer room, leaving the muttered prayers behind them.
"Just the two of us?" Du Lan asked angrily.
Islaan looked up at the red moon Mather. The darkness in the first half of the night was now much brighter. The snowflakes even seemed to have stopped, and the cold wind was much lighter, as if announcing the occurrence of some kind of change.
"Of course not." The Red Guard lowered his head. "We all know how this kind of thing can happen without them."
Duran nodded, a smile flashing across his lips.
Ballroom.
Xi Lang couldn't remember how many glasses of malt wine he drank tonight. Often, before he finished the last glass, two busboys would quickly pass the next full glass of malt wine to him.
"Come on, Xi Lang, Artano is dying. You will definitely win this time. I'll give you ten Septim gold coins." Someone shouted from the side, and the voice was harsher than the giant roar Xi Lang had ever heard.
"Shut up, Cassiti," said Solini Yollard. "Although the Archbishop does not force us to abide by the ways of the ascetics, gambling is certainly not allowed by the Lord of Mercy."
The female Nord is a renowned hunter among the Vigilantes and has extremely rich experience in hunting vampires and werewolves. She has long chestnut hair, a slender but energetic figure, and the Nords' unique black dye between her eyes and eyebrows. She looks more like a shield mate of the Companions than a vigilant of Standal.
"It's just to add fun." Cassidy noticed the strange looks from the people around him and curled his lips angrily, "Okay, okay, praise the merciful Lord, I take back what I just said."
The people around laughed.
The life of a vigilante is dangerous and boring. Except for ascetics like Duran, most vigilantes are actually similar to ordinary mercenaries. Perhaps the vigilantes during the Annihilation Crisis could still maintain humility, self-discipline, and a uniform life, but as the Annihilation Crisis passed, peace came to Tamriel (although small unrest during this period still occurred from time to time, it seemed to affect the entire Nirn Crisis like the Star has never appeared again). Over the past hundreds of years, the successors of these powerful warriors have become closer to... life without exception.
Although most of them still retain their devout faith in the Lord of Justice, Mercy and Mercy, it is inevitable that compared with the vigilators during the Annihilation Crisis, today's vigilantes are really in the same heaven and on earth.
In the huge banquet hall, a long table was placed in the center, with two wooden benches on both sides, filled with people.
The table was filled with mead, food, cream cakes, beeswax ham, etc.
At the other end of the table, a large fireplace was burning brightly, blocking out the cold night outside.
Altano, who was nervously competing with the Bretons for drinking, had red eyes, pouring glass after glass of cold wine into his mouth, as if this would make the powerful warrior from Morrowind forget everything about his hometown.
Oh, Vvardenfell,
The Three Holy Lands,
Tower of the Fall,
May your glory shine forever.
Altano swallowed the cold ale painfully, as if swallowing the eternal pain in the Dunmer's heart. Because they all know that the Pearl of Tamriel, which once shone for an era, has fallen forever, leaving the Dunmer with only the gloomy sky and the ashes that cover the sky for many years.
No one noticed the pain in the Dunmer's heart. Almost everyone was shouting, cheering, and inciting, and it was as lively as the Burning Olaf Festival in Solitude.
However, although the vigilantes from Morrowind tried hard to take the opportunity to make the 'enemy' fall, or let themselves fall - it is obvious that the Bretons are not an easy person.
Xi Lang's cheeks were red, which reminded people of his Red Guard companions. His drunken eyes were almost the same as Altano's, and things printed in his pupils could almost be seen as double images.
But even so, the tough race from Gaoyan still used their strong will to resist, pouring cup after cup of malt wine into their mouths amidst the cheers of others, with no intention of bowing down to their 'opponents'. .
The situation persisted like this.
No one can remember why this farce happened. Solini watched helplessly as the people around her shouted and cheered excitedly. At this moment, the thick wooden door of the banquet hall was pushed open. The icy cold wind roared in from the sky at night, and even though the charcoal fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, it was still hard to hide the biting chill.
The noise in the hall suddenly fell silent, and most people turned their attention to the door.
What caught Solini's eyes was the familiar figure of the Red Guard, followed by a taller Nord ascetic. She shouted in surprise: "Islaan."
Islaan pushed open the third door tonight, and the burning light and breath suddenly hit his face. The noise inside, which could clearly be heard by the two of them even through a thick door, suddenly fell silent.
When Islaan saw the surprised look on his female companion's face, he nodded calmly. Then the Brighton man who was drinking heavily with Artano was found in the crowd. He walked over, his cold armored boots squeaking on the wooden floor.
"Altano." He nodded to another prestigious vigilante companion and frowned, "I think you'd better sober up. The Bishop will probably come to you if you don't want to be rude in front of him. if."
The dark elf's red eyes, which were still a little drunk, immediately cleared up. He looked at Islaan, as if he was thinking about the meaning of the Redguard's words, "What do you mean? Islaan."
The Redguard didn't explain too much, but instead grabbed the Breton by the collar, slipped him away from the wine table, and walked towards the door.
"Everyone, the farce is over. Now, either go back to sleep or keep your eyes open. The darkness ahead is waiting for us."
Dulan nodded apologetically to the companions around him and hurriedly followed.
Bang.
The door was closed again, leaving behind a bewildered vigilante and a thoughtful Altano.
"What happened?" Solini followed the two of them and asked.
At this time, the Red Guard and his companions were walking on the way to the armory, and the originally drunk Breton was unceremoniously pushed into a pile by the Red Guard and piled together with the servants and guards. After the snowball, I completely woke up. He grumbled, not loudly, but loud enough for others to hear.
"Wait until we see Ganma." Red Guard said simply, "I will tell you the truth one by one. Shut up, Xi Lang, if you complain again, I will stuff you into the snowdrift again, so that Your mind is clear again."
The Brighton man stopped talking. He shook as if he was severely cold. But even so, when he saw the armory in front of him, he still asked with a hint of strangeness in his confusion, "Okay, okay, I forgive you for stuffing me into that big pile of cold and smelly ice, but Can you tell me, what on earth are you going to do to find us all, Israan, when you don’t sleep at night that can freeze a person to death?”
After confirming that they had indeed received the Archbishop's orders, the guards allowed them into the armory. The four of them turned through several boring passages and arrived at the forge hall where weapons were stored and made.
Here, Islaan and the others met Ganma Neville, who was responsible for forging and maintaining the daily weapons and mechanical crossbows of the vigilantes.
"Ha, you guys came together like this." The blacksmith, with most of his left shoulder naked, his whole body muscular, and a Nord-style beard, laughed loudly, his voice hearty and heroic.
He is a typical Nord.
"We are here to collect weapons, Ganma." Islaan said solemnly, "We have a mission."
"Well, this is really the only reason why all of you can come together." Even at this time, the equipment master, still with his upper body exposed and waving a hammer in front of the hot forge, nodded. He put down the forging hammer in his hand, and his eyes scanned the faces of the four people one by one, and finally returned to the Red Guards.
"So, Islaan, what weapons are you going to bring this time? Let me tell you in advance that I have recently improved the crossbow. Maybe you will like it more."
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