Anvil

  The oppressive heat of the smithy was suddenly and abruptly replaced with the cool salty coastal air, lifting the sweat from our flesh. Viconia and I had spent the past hour in discussion with Varel Morvayn as we arranged for our battered, damaged and worn armour to be stripped, repaired, replaced and otherwise refurbished after almost three months of adventuring. While Varel seemed pleased in how effective his and his fellow master smith's creations were in combat, it still left him aghast as just how much damage they had suffered in such a short time frame. Moonstone chain links had been broken and parted, ebony-steel plates had been bent, buckled and rent and it was only our breastplates that seemed to be intact. For most of the time that we had spent inside of his smithy he has simply muttered, cursed and swore as he went over each and every piece and studied the damage.

  In the end we departed slightly lighter of our collection of wealth, and armoured in only our breastplates. The rest was left arrayed across a table, the chainmail thrown into barrels filled with sand for scouring, and the worst pieces simply dumped into buckets to be fed into the smelter. It was concerning the number of pieces that were going to be smelted down and reforged as it showed just how much fighting we had experienced recently.

  "Well, that will keep them busy for a while." I commented offhandedly as I closed the door behind Viconia.

  The sign displaying the anvil and tongs symbol of Morvayn's shop creaked above our heads as Viconia simply shrugged her shoulders. "Three days. I'm surprised that it's going to take that long with how much he pointed out with your armour."

  "It was only a few busted links, buckled pauldrons, crushed vambraces, split back plate, cracked faulds, dented rerebraces..." I trailed off, realising that not only was she making a joke but the sheer amount of damage I had sustained during the months was a little overwhelming. Especially how Viconia's armour was going to require a significantly smaller amount of repairs. Her attitude towards wearing and using armour for protection was not to get hit in the first place.

  "Well, you will go out of your way to fight people and monsters. It's not my fault that you come back beaten and bloody from the wilderness."

  The smile on her face lit her expression for a moment as she glanced in my direction. Ever since I had returned from patrolling the county she had been a mixture of relieved, annoyed and amused. Especially after I informed her and Azzan of my encounter with the Bosmer Rangers. Azzan was particularly pleased to know that they were not a threat and that whatever danger had been present in the region had been dealt with. I didn't provide full details however, after making a conscious decision to keep a large portion of the battle in the ruins to myself as I didn't think that Malulain would have appreciated too many outsiders knowing. I had gained his trust and in extension the trust of the Ranger Clans and they were not individuals that I wished to offend. Azzan may have been mostly content with my version of the story, Viconia had been annoyed somewhat when I withheld some details but seemed to understand my reasoning at least.

  And now we both found ourselves in Anvil, together once more and with less and less work to keep us occupied. In the weeks since our arrival the city had improved, the mood had been lifted and eve despite the ever growing numbers of pilgrims, refugees and travellers the situation was contained. Where there had been a detectable layer of fear hovering in the air, there was now instead a growing sense of festivity and commeration as those who were attempting to restart their lives found opportunities to do so.

  Dozens, if not hundreds of new traders, merchants and craftsmen had relocated themselves into the city, along with their families and unemployment was soon becoming a past issue. Every street corner, alley, or communal place were growing new stalls and there wasn't an empty building within the curtain walls. Those who didn't have trades soon found themselves being offered work as couriers and runners, labourers and warehousemen to help fuel the ever increasing number of tiny businesses.

  It wasn't to say that all things were going smoothly. Riots and brawls were still common place and the city guard had its hands extremely full dealing with the increasing number of robberies and petty crimes that were occurring on a daily basis. Pickpocketing was rife and on my return I had some urchin attempt to lift my purse before he found himself dangling in the air with my iron grip on his arm. Ever since it seemed I was no longer a target, and I consciously noted that Viconia had not once been the subject of anyone's attentions. Her weeks of patrolling the streets and 'dealing' with infractions in her customary style had left no doubt in anyone's mind what would occur if they earned her ire.

  Azzan had been completely correct though. our presences alone were calming to the city's population and our actions had a vastly increased effect over what would normally be expected. While little more than a drop in a pond in comparison to the actions of the local guard and the guildsmen our actions were a lot more publically visible. Whether we were known to individuals as the Heroes of Kvatch, the Champions of Anvil, Knight's Errant of the Order of the White Stallion or members of the Fighter's guild it didn't matter. We were heroes and as such we gave everyone hope.

  As we made our way from Morvayn's Peacemakers and along the city streets we could feel dozens of eyes watching and looking upon us in awe. My hearing caught snatches of conversations discussing us and not for the first time I cursed the articles that the Black Horse Courier had been distributing about our feats. It was now common knowledge that we had closed the oblivion gates of Kvatch and Anvil, slew the Titan of Titan's End, received Knighthoods and battled vampires and werewolves in Glenvar County. Personally the attention made me extremely uneasy. Especially how I knew that despite the best efforts of the Blades that there were still a number of cultists at large within the Empire. our deeds were quickly becoming legendary and on two occasions that I was aware of our likenesses had been captured and distributed as part of the articles.

  "What makes the Legion so special?" Viconia asked abruptly as we made our way down the street, shifting our way through the throngs of people going about their daily business. The mid-morning markets were doing very well for themselves and there was no shortage of customers.

  "What do you mean?" My reply was almost cut off as I moved around a pair of servants bearing their lord's heraldry on their tabards, moving from place to place with their arms full of goods and foodstuffs.

  Viconia too shifted around them and they both started slightly at the sight of our swords at our hips and our ebony-mithril breastplates. "No matter where we have been, the Legion is spoken about almost reverently or in awe, and yet as far as I can tell every province... By Shar, every city on the surface has its own standing army."

  "That's true."

  "Then why are they so special?"

  I spared her a glance as we continued through the busy streets, my hand hovering in the vicinity of Sunchild and wary for pickpockets. Technically we were both were in our own time but the two of us walking about constituted as a patrol in the eyes of the Guild and the local Guard.

  "It's the training." Shrugging for a moment I made an apology and squeezed through a small group of people lining up to buy poultry from a nearby stall. "For the most part at least."

  "The guards and militia we have encountered seem adequate enough."

  "Yeah, in a way. But they aren't professionals. Most of the guards you will see spend only part of their time in mail and only a portion of that training. A Legionary signs up for life, for all intents and purposes. Not everyone who takes the Empire's Septim will live to see retirement."

  Her gaze lingered on me as we managed to extricate ourselves from the press and into a calmer portion of the city streets. "What is it about the training then?"

  "Well, for one thing it's a lot more intensive physically and mentally. Most join in their mid to late teens. A bit older if they are elvish and a bit younger if they are orcs." For a moment I chewed on my lip in thought. "When you take a teenager when they have almost finished growing and put them through the sort of physical training that literally results in broken bones and torn muscles, it hardens their body and mind until it is as hard as the armour they wear. From sunrise to sunset they are hammered into the ground with relentless drills of marching in formation in armour, running, lifting weights, wrestling, sparring and every other activity you can imagine. The training is that hard it will break several people a day, but the Legion has a large cadre of healers specifically allocated to heal the recruits. You break someone in the morning, heal them at lunch, break them again in the afternoon and heal them before bed. Day after day, week after week and you soon turn them into something more than just a warrior."

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "You create a soldier." Viconia replied, looking somewhat deep in thought.

  "Exactly. The strongest swords are made by heating and folding the metal dozens upon dozens of times until the last of the imperfections in the material have been beaten out of existence. In the same way, the training and breaking and mending of an individual, especially when they are on the cusp of adulthood makes them stronger both in body and spirt than what they would be normally."

  "The Legion uses pain to temper their minds and breaks their bodies to allow them to heal stronger..." She said. It was a statement rather than question but I nodded anyway. "What about starting the training process at a younger age?"

  "It has been attempted and done. A couple of times I think. Some of the more... free thinking Legates during the reign of Pelagius the Mad tried making Legionaries from recruits taken as young as six."

  "Did it work?"

  I shook my head, both to Viconia's question and the handful of citizen's offering me a portion of their meagre rations. Their clothing was so threadbare from their journey that they were little more than rags and if it wasn't for the daily bread that the Countess had decreed be handed to every inhabitant they would be on the verge of starvation. Their desire to show their appreciation to Viconia and I make me feel extremely awkward but I noticed that Viconia barely reacted except to make a polite but firm refusal. The time she had spent in the city while I was hunting had changed her and the past weeks she would have had to deal with numerous similar situation.

  "I don't know the full details but I know that they proved that it just wasn't as cost effective. There was a higher amount of injuries obviously, the cohorts had much higher discipline and were harder to break in combat but within a few years it was obvious that the use of restoration magicka during training had disastrous effects. For the most part they all suffered various illnesses; tumours and the like before they had reached their mid-twenties. On top of this that they were not as strong or fully developed physically until they had reached their late teens so after a decade or so of training they end up with less time being able to serve the Legion. Similar 'experiments' have had the same result."

  "Is all this why you seem so much more capable than the others we have met?"

  Not knowing how to answer, I chose to shrug instead. "I guess."

  "You are much more used to pain, and are certainly stronger than most I have seen in our travels."

  "That's not entirely a result of being a member of the Legion." Pausing uncomfortably, I grimaced and saw her expression mirror mine in more of a humorous fashion.

  "Within the first days of meeting you were going to brand yourself with a red hot sword blade before I stepped in to stop you from making a wael of yourself." Her laugh was pleasant and I realised how much I had thoroughly missed her during my short time in the wilds. "Surely you were at least somewhat proficient before you left the Legion."

  It was my turn to chuckle darkly. "Somewhat. Managed to hold my own during the yearly tournaments within the 14th and even managed to be proclaimed sword champion for my cohort once."

  "Which proves that you know which end of a sword not to stab yourself with at least."

  The curve of her eyebrow was the only sign of amusement on her face as she returned to her usual dour look, but I couldn't help but grin.

  "Well, what about the Velmer? Do they have anything comparable to the Legion?"

  "Organisationally? No. By skill of arms I would say that most Drow who have reached adulthood are more than a match for any Legionary."

  "Really?" I was surprised, but only partially. Viconia had never made any attempt to proclaim that she was a trained warrior and without my vampiric nature there would be little help that I could contend with her.

  "The Velmer are violent and cruel and exceptionally capable as warriors, mages, thieves and assassins, but that is as individuals. We fight for ourselves and even during battle it is rare for any Drow to come to the aid of another. Death on the battlefield can come from any direction and even those who we fight alongside."

  "Sounds inefficient."

  Once again she laughed, but this time it was full throated and drew the attention of most passers-by. It was not an entirely pleasant laugh and for those who weren't accustomed to her it was enough to send shivers up the spine. "Yes, yes it is. I always thought that we were superior to everything and everyone, that only through purity could a race gain supremacy. But since being on the surface and seeing everything that the Empire has accomplished and what surfacers have achieved I have had to rethink everything I thought I knew."

  "How do the Velmer fight wars?" I asked simply.

  "Unlike the surface, that's for certain. Most battles I have experienced or heard of are nothing like Kvatch. We rely almost solely upon slaves to fight, sending them forward in mass waves until the enemy is either destroyed or worn down enough that the handful of warriors can finish off the survivors."

  "It sounds extremely inefficient..."

  She nodded. "In one battle against the illithids, Menzoberranzan lost three thousand slaves. That was almost a quarter of the total slave stock and several of the lesser houses were subsequently destroyed in the coming months with the loss of so much property and wealth. The Haszak force had only numbered a thousand or so, mostly their own mind-slaves with a hundred or so of the creatures commanding their force. It was a victory for Menzoberranzan but now when I think about it, it just seems so wasteful."

  "So in Drow society a handful of elite trained soldiers lead a much greater force of conscripts?"

  "Effectively yes." She made a gesture that seemed to convey utter hopelessness. "And all it does is keep the Velmer trapped and reliant upon Lloth's blessings and power to survive. Most of the 'professional' Drow soldiery consist of mages and clerics with a handful of what you would compare to foresters. An even smaller number would be blademasters and while their skill would put anyone to shame; Belisarius and Alexi included, they could not contend with the way the Legion fights. I may not have fought with a cohort as you did at Kvatch but I saw the outcome all too clearly. Five hundred assaulting a city four times the size of Menzoberranzan? It should have been impossible! But, not only did the Legion succeed but they did so with comparatively few casualties!"

  "It is what the Legion does."

  "Indeed... I have been comparing the surface to the Underdark and have been struggling to comprehend the differences, let alone understand them. I have also seen enough to understand that while you don't compare to a Drow, you and other members of the Legion far exceed them at the same time."

  "I... guess that is a compliment?" I said hesitantly.

  The way she rolled her eyes was almost audible. "Sometimes you are really thick headed mrannd'ssinss. The Legions does with science and sorcery in mere months what has taken the Drow hundreds, if not thousands of generations to accomplish."

  "I wouldn't go as far as that..."

  She twisted and stared me right in the eye and poked my breastplate with a finger. "You said it yourself; they break you down into absolute nothing and then with magicka and determination they build you back up into something more... Something greater than what normal men and mer would normally become. Kvatch is proof of that."

  I couldn't help but fall silent at her words and after she turned and continue on I hurriedly followed in her footsteps. There was no way that I or any other legionary would ever consider themselves superhuman. Well training and fit yes, but nothing more than that.

  "What makes the Velmer so deadly?"

  It was my turn to give Viconia pause but it didn't last for long. "Detholusin kyuvrem lu' dro'xundus"

  "Surviving and what?"

  "Selective breeding." Despite the steeled edge in her voice there was no emotion in her tone. "The weak were actively culled as infants, and those who couldn't survive to adulthood didn't breed anyway so only the strongest would pass on their heritage. Do this over the course of, I don't know... Centuries? Millennium? Thousands of generations at least. The gods only know how long the Drow have been living in such a way but it has made them stronger, faster and more dangerous than what the surface can offer. It comes at a price though. As far as I can tell Velmer are much more fertile than any surface elf, but the mortality rate is so high the population is stagnated."

  "So you believe the Legion is superior in creating soldiers?"

  Again she rolled her eyes. "It is obvious that they are. It takes a lifetime to train a Drow warrior, and while they are better than Legionaries, the Legion can turn anyone into a warrior. Not only that they can do so in only a few short months."

  Clicking her tongue in thought she lead the way, shifting through the press until we found ourselves in one of the many streets where the crowds were significantly thinner. A tavern nearby was filled to bursting and the sound of music was audible even over the chorus of locals singing along with enthusiasm rather than skill. From the few snatches of the song I managed to hear, the song was a recent addition to the collection of wandering bards and troubadours throughout Cyrodiil. Taken from some well-known tune, the lyrics had been shifted and changed to tell the story of how Viconia and I closed the Oblivion Gate at Kvatch. The bard's words sent shivers down my spine as I remembered our first experience with Oblivion, and of how I drank the blood of a Dremora. The crowd listening to the song however were full of cheer and alcohol, singing along with the chorus and hammering the wooden floorboards with their feet in time with the music.

  Over the sound of the tavern, the city was suddenly filled with the sound of tolling bells and for a heart stopping moment I thought that it once again signified an assault on the city. I quickly realised that the bells were sounding out the eleventh hour, somehow conspicuously absent of the bronzed thunder of the cathedral of Dibella's enormous bells. Even after so many months, the Cathedral was still closed to the public and the bells sat silent, gathering dust and languishing in the darkness that hung low over their home.

  Viconia's attention was caught by the bells and she cocked her head momentarily at the sound, silently counting the tolling and grimly smiling. "Well, looks like we have places to be."

  "Places to be?" I watched her as she gained her bearings in the city, turned and motioned for me to follow. "What sort of places."

  "You'll see..."