We left Cloud Ruler shortly before the evening meal, choosing to travel the last few hours south and stay the night in the first of several coaching Inns over the coming days. Martin and Jauffre were sorry to see us leave, but they were understanding of our reasons. We left with a handful of supplies, and another pair of books that were added to our suspiciously growing collection. Viconia was still continuing to read the book she had received from the Prophet Saccicius for an hour or two every day as we stopped for the night, but she was otherwise keeping her own company. I took it upon myself to begin reading the books that Martin had provided while Viconia was otherwise distracted, and while we continued to talk during the day, the evenings left us both sitting in each other's company with our noses stuck in books.
The two books that Martin had provided us were filled with details and stories of the Divine Crusader and the Order of the Nine. From his time as a priest of Akatosh, he had his own knowledge and experiences regarding one of the most famed heroes of mankind and had specifically chosen these pair of books for the information they contained.
Pelinal Whitestrake was perhaps one of the most written and spoken about individuals throughout history but the enormous length of time that had passed since the years that he had walked the bounds of Tamriel left more fiction than fact. Over the course of three thousand years, little had truly managed to survive as his story had grown from a tale, to a legend, to a myth.
Of what had managed to survive the ravages of time was very simplistic and precise. He was clad in, and wielding the armour and weapons of the Eight Divines themselves, each piece as such being gifted directly from an individual god. The Helm of Dibella, the Boots of Kynareth, the Curiass of Akatosh, the Gauntlets of Stendarr, the Greaves of Mara, the Mace of Zenithar, the Shield of Julianos, and the Sword of Arkay. If the Helm was anything to go by, then the Relics were incredibly, if not incomprehensibly powerful. There was no sign whatsoever that the Helm had spent the past thirty centuries in a partially flooded ruin and even when I accidently dropped it from a saddlebag into the dirt not a single mote of dust clung to its surface.
Martin had performed a few tests on the Helm before our departure to test whether it was the same as the Gauntlets and was proven that they too were unsuitable for the ritual. While powerful in a way that made the Light of Dawn appear little more than a dagger of sparks, they were in his opinion "not true Aedric artefacts" but were instead blessed by the Divines instead.
It was during our third night's stay while Viconia had been looking over my shoulder that she had brought something else to my attention regarding Pelinal. As I had been reading my way through a section of the Song of Pelinal she had idly noted that "It is extremely difficult to cut someone into eight equal pieces unless they cut either the legs or the arms in half at the joints." I wasn't sure whether I was more disturbed at the fact that she spoke from experience or that she was correct.
The journey between Cloud Ruler and Skingrad went without incident, and it proved most fortuitous that we had purchased a home within the city in the previous months. Rosethorn Hall was something that I could have only dreamed about during my time in the Legion, but now one of the most expensive houses, in one of the richest cities in Cyrodiil was wholly ours. Viconia and I had bought the house equally during the journey after being proclaimed champions of Anvil and I was completely certain that the purchase had been entirely on a whim. A whim a that was somewhat concerning as it cost more than three lifetimes of Legion pay and had only served to reduce our wealth to a third of its total. The riches of Nonungalo had been worth far, far more than either of us were expecting, and we had been expecting a lot from nearly seven kilograms of precious artefacts and gemstones.
In a way our fame was proving to be of even greater worth than the treasures that seemed to simply fall into our hands. Our subsequent journeys through Skingrad had allowed us to invest the other spoils of our adventures with the Bankers' Guild, spoils that included the vampiric treasures from Nornalhorst, and the three full pouches of gemstones I had acquired from the slain marauders in county Anvil. But even with such wealth, the only thing that was stopping us from being fleeced and all but robbed by moneylenders and jewellers was our fame and the way our names carried as much weight as a Baron or Counts. There were few within positions of authority within Cyrodiil who didn't know of us, many by sight as our ebony-mithril breastplates and White Stallion Signet rings announced our identities more than our reputations.
Although, I still struggled to comprehend we were some of the richest individuals within the Empire, comparable to counts and the Septim Emperors themselves. Between our swords, armours, horses, house, collection of jewels and coins we carried in our saddlebags and the amount invested into the Guilds, we could easily purchase enough land to put some baronies to shame.
All of this wealth, our reputations and our skill at arms were proving to be entirely useless in the search of the home of the Knights of the Nine. They were proving elusive in ways that were equal parts confounding and infuriating but unlike the Relics of the Crusader, the Order of the Nine should have been easier to find.
The difficulties lay in a combination of reasons. Firstly, unlike almost every other Order, the Knights of the Nine had been few in number. Most orders easily contained dozens, if not hundreds of fully fledged knights and just as many, if not more squires and men-at-arms. Fittingly enough the Order of the Nine only contained nine such individuals, but these nine had accomplished feats and deeds that made older, larger, more established knightly orders pale in comparison.
Within the city archives, one of the few gems of knowledge I had discovered was a fairly concise list of their achievements during the two decades that the order had been in existence. First and foremost, several members of the Order had successfully recovered five of the Eight relics of the Crusader. The Order's founder, Sir Amiel Lannus himself had slain the only dragon seen in Cyrodiil during the entire 3rd era with the help of his brother knights, Caius Fulberia and Torolf Asanderssen. From the dragon's clutches they had retrieved the Cuirass, and after founding the order they were shortly joined by another champion who had retrieved the Gauntlets. Casimir B'olden was a sword-champion of the Forebears who had singlehandedly bested the ogre clans of Garlas Agea, and he was quickly followed by another couple of champions from throughout Tamriel. Henrik Fenrahrson, Thane of Haafingar and Ralvas Ulento of House Redoran pledged their swords to the order, Sir Ralvas accepting banishment from his home due to his 'heretical' beliefs in the Nine. The last to join were Gregory Arcio; a sellsword born in Elsweyr, Juncan Nirtke; a Breton born of Redguard parents living in Sentinel and a young Colovian noble by the name of Berich Vlindrel.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Sir Berich would be destined to become the most infamous of the Knights of the Nine. Even before joining the order there were records of his victories in various tournaments and jousts but his fame exploded when he retrieved not one, but two Relics of the Crusader from the Necromancers of the Rotting Eye in County Bruma. Claiming the Sword of Arkay and the Greaves of Mara, he brought the Order overwhelming fame, recognition in the eyes of the Elder Council and the full financial support that only being the son of a Baron could bring.
Champions of their generation, if not the entire 3rd Era the list of their accomplishments and victories was contained on a scroll the length of my arm. Even Viconia and myself with our wreath of victories under our belts, including retrieving a relic and saving entire cities couldn't hope to match the Knights of the Nine. They had fought dragons, necromantic and daedric cults, forged peace treaties between warring factions, saved not one or two, but seven cities throughout Tamriel from everything from goblin migrations, orchish warbands, and even a sorcerous outbreak of zombies.
But, they also seemed destined to prove that the brightest candles burned twice as quickly. After a decade of travelling the lands, their fame and renown growing with every impossible victory the War of the Red Diamond broke out. Queen Potema of Solitude brought war to the Tamriel and several of the knights followed the clarion calls to battle. In an argument that was never recorded, Berich Vlindrel slew Caius Fulberia with the sword of Arkay on the steps of the priory before leaving the order forever. He was not the last to leave.
Some of the knights died during the war, others simply disappeared. Sir Berich returned from the war a hero and upon inheriting his father's barony earned a seat on the Elder Council and became a prominent politician. His untimely death in 159 was attributed to a bout of illness but there was apparently rumours of poison and assassination with his own son as the likely culprit.
The relics too vanished like they had over the centuries previously. The greaves and sword were buried with Sir Berich in his family tomb, a tomb that subsequently got lost almost a hundred and fifty years after his death when his last surviving heir died in a horse riding accident. Without heirs the Vlindrel Barony was broken up, distributed and absorbed by several of its neighbours and in the resulting administrative confusion the location of the tomb was lost, and with it the location of the Relics.
Sir Henrik left and with his home still under the influence of the Wolf Queen established ties with the Knights Mentor. His story was one of the few successes during the fall of the Order. Retrieving the Shield of the Crusader from an unknown location and from unknown foes he vanished from the pages of history shortly other, taking the fate of the Shield with him.
Casimir's B'olden's story was one of the most well-known of all the tales, as is the location of the gauntlets. After publicly disgracing himself by accidently murdering one of the cathedral's worshippers, the gauntlets had fallen to the floor of the Cathedral of Stendarr where they had been impossible to lift ever since. Judging by the few conversations Viconia and I had overheard during our travel and arrival within Skingrad the gauntlets were there still, becoming increasingly popular as the Prophet's crusade continued to grow. As yet they hadn't appeared to have budged in the slightest despite the increasing attention they were gathering from pilgrims and crusaders alike.
It was the stories of the other relics that interested me, despite our primary goal was finding the location of the Priory of the Nine. The Helm had never been discovered, nor had the Boots or the Mace. It wasn't surprising that the Helm hadn't been discovered with the submersion of the shrine under a dozen metres of water, but rumours of the Boots and the Mace were spreading. The boots apparently were kept within a grove somewhere within the northern portions of County Bravil, and those praying to a Saint within Leyawiin's cathedral of Zenithar would sometimes be granted visons of the mace.
Four days... Four days of searching, reading moth and mouse eaten scrolls and feeling dust and cobwebs clinging to my flesh had brought Viconia and I no closer to finding the Priory of the Nine. There were records of its existence of course, but they were space on its exact location. Despite people's opinions the land and the Empire was in constant change. Rivers and creeks were dammed and redirected, lakes dried up, mines and ore veins would run out and new ones would be found and trade routes and roads would change in importance. New villages and townships would spring to existence even as old ones withered and died as their economic lifeblood gave out.
The Priory of the Nine had once been the Abbey of the Eight in the 2nd Era, until the southern trade route from Skingrad to Elsweyr shifted further to the east and took the caravans with it. This particular region of the West Weald was sparsely populated to begin with, but in two centuries since the founding to the Order it had turned into wilderness. Without an exact location or precise directions, it was going to prove impossible to find a handful of buildings in thousands of square kilometres that were for the most part heavily forested.
Viconia and I visited every bookstore in the city, gained permission to enter the various chapel and cathedral archives and for two full days from dawn to well into the night I rifled through the city archives for clues on the Priory's location. There was enough evidence to prove that it did exist, but not enough to narrow down its location. After spending three hours reading through a stack of parchments half my height in search for Sir Amiel's original land purchase of the Priory from the local Baron, I was met with utter disappointment in the shape of a decades old rat nest. Time, along with vermin seemed intent on making a mockery of Imperial administration and records and it was this that finally forced me from the archives.
Viconia had left a few hours previously to follow up on a potential lead with one of the local bookstores. By now all of the book merchants knew of what we were seeking, along with a considerable number of city officials and a growing number of local citizens. Once or twice a day we would have some messenger or courier arrive with word and we would take it in turns to go and see if it bore and fruit. If anything, Viconia was growing more impatient than I was and I was almost at the point whether I wouldn't have been surprised to come back to find the archives on fire as a result.
