SotF: Just a Formality II LEGACY

  • I

    Falrielle opened her eyes at the rooster’s crow, heralding the coming of dawn and her brothers and sisters rose from their slumber to its call. Thus beginning another morning in the life of a Vigilant.


    First was the cleaning of the self. With just a simple linen cloth and a basin of jasmine & lavender water, Vigilants wiped the grime, the sweat and other filths from their body. A clean body is a clean mind.


    Second was the cleaning of the Hall. Every Vigilant present, from the Keeper to the Initiate of the Vigil must do this. Armed with mops and brooms, all Vigilants worked to ensure the cleanliness of their home.


    Third was the morning prayers. Led by the Keeper, the Vigilants congregated in the great hall in solemn respect as the Vigilants chanted the prayers to the Nine Divines. Then it was the most important part of a Vigilant’s morning routine: breakfast.


    Falrielle dug her spoon into her bowl of barley porridge. While plain, it was nonetheless an adequate meal and a strong reminder of the life that they chose. A life of dedication, commitment and sacrifice. Also dull routines but they don’t really talk too much about that.


    As she finished her meal, Falrielle placed a dark vial on the table and took three deep breathes. On her third, the Vigilant uncorked the vial and downed its contents. She then placed the vial on the table and closed her eyes, mind only on her breathing.


    The whiff of porridge, the scent of juniper incense among other aromas assaulted her noise but the Vigilant remained calm. After a dozen or so breathes Falrielle broke out of her trance.


    ‘How much of that stuff have you been drinking, Fallie?’ said Senior-Vigilant Graucchus. The old soldier was bald and his face was disfigured with a scar that ran across his left eye to his lip. The man has seen many battles and most importantly, is one of Falrielle’s longest and most trusted friends in the Vigil.


    ‘You seem to be drinking more of that stuff nowadays than before,’ he said, his voice deep and coarse.


    ‘Only drinking what I need,’ she replied, taking a sip of her tea before continuing. ‘I seem to be developing a resistance to the potion since I started but worry not, I foresee that I would of have either found an alternative or be killed in service before this thing kills me.’


    Falrielle gave her friend a soft smile.


    ‘I didn’t intend to pry; you know this stuff more than I do,’ he said with a tone of genuine modesty. ‘But I can’t help but be worried with what that’s everything that has been happening lately.’


    ‘As I said: worry not old friend, I’ve seen the worst of it and I can take care of myself,’ said Falrielle. She took another sip. ‘Speaking of taking care of things, how’s the family?’


    ‘Thank the gods they’re safe,’ Graucchus replied, his mood lighting up considerably. ‘Attrebus is stationed at Solitude; praise be to Stendarr for that while Aventus is home helping Livia on the harvests. Livia wrote to me that harvests have been good this season. She’s also…’


    ‘Carrying another child.’


    Falrielle was in mid-chug when he gave her the news and the surprise made her cough on her drink. The Vigilant laughed, tea dripping from her face as she smacked the soldier’s groin saying, ‘Congratulations, you old dog!’


    The old soldier chuckled and smile. “Thanks, Fallie. I really appreciate it.’


    ‘Have you told anyone else yet?’ said Falrielle, clearing the droplets of tea from her nose.


    ‘As a matter of fact, no. Well, no one else other than the Keeper.’


    The Keeper. Falrielle had to see her later that day.


    ‘The Keeper… have you talked to her yet for your assignment?’


    ‘Hall duty, nothing special. Train the recruits, assist the Keeper in administrative duties in addition to the usual as per my office as the Master-of-Wards of the Vigil. Tyranus was sent to investigate claims of Daedra worship in Markarth, a snipe hunt if you ask me and Tolan… I don’t remember where she sent Tolan. Probably somewhere east to look at ruins or something. How about you?’


    ‘Don’t know. I’m actually seeing her later at Midday. Until them, I still have time.’


    ‘Going up the mountain again?’


    She nodded.


    ‘I need some time away from all.’ Falrielle got up. ‘Think you can handle the recruits?’


    ‘I’ll be fine. Just watch yourself and don’t be late.’



    Falrielle smeared beeswax across her eyes, she may not see well but the glare of the light simply hurt her but the gods are kind this day; the sky was cloudy, blotting out most of the sun’s light and a gentle breeze blew on her face. Pleasant, she thought even if it was slightly colder than it ought to be.


    She usually made trips like this when she needed some time away from her brothers and sisters.


    The path she took was short albeit tricky to the inexperienced. It was narrow and it was hidden by outgrowths of weeds and vines of the mountain flora but if one new the way, it was the fastest route to the peak.


    As she strolled up the path, Falrielle couldn’t help but reflect on her time in the Vigil and of the Vigil itself. Before the Vigil, she was but a sword for hire holding no true loyalty but to the person with the largest coin pouch but now she wouldn’t give a second thought if she needed to give her life for her brothers and sisters. The irony of it all made her laugh.


    Then there was the Vigil.


    The Vigil of Stendarr, what was there to say? The Vigil is one of the oldest and at its peak, was one of the largest and greatest orders of its kind but that was in the past. As the years gone by the Vigil bled and shrunk and at the present they were confined to the province of Skyrim and numbering a little over sixty. How the mighty have fallen as they say, a solemn reminder of the price of pride.


    Near the peak of the mountain there lies a clearing with a stone monument. The monument stood tall with a hole in the centre and it also bore intricate carvings of the Lord constellation on its body. This one is one of thirteen stones that dotted the land of Skyrim and legend tells of the stones granting strange powers to the Nord heroes of old, granting them the ability to rewrite their fate.


    Of course there hasn’t been any historical records to prove this legend nor has the mages of Tamriel found anything substantial.


    The Lord Stone as it was called faced west, overlooking the holds of Hjaalmarch and Haafingar and it was said that the view was breath-taking. Falrielle carried some bitterness over this, it’s not like she could see further than her nose anyway.


    Regardless of whatever sights or supposed magical powers the stones held, to Falrielle it was just a mossed covered artefact of the ancients built on a site of relative peace. Standing 10 paces from the stone, Falrielle sat down, legs crossed and eyes closed.


    It was all in the breathing as they say.



    Previous Chapter: Mud & Blood                                                                                                                                     Next Chapter: Blood & Silver


0 Comments   |   Sotek likes this.