Florentius Baenius muttered in irritation as he picked the aged parchment off the stone floor in the private quarters of Isran, who had tossed it aside with indifference and skepticism. Before them stood Serana, the self-exiled vampire noblewoman of the recently destroyed Clan Volkihar, glaring with arms crossed and fingers tapping. She had returned to Fort Dawnguard with a satchel full of old journals and weathered scrolls concerning a dangerous vampire amulet lost to the ages. She claimed rumors of its existence were spreading throughout the vampire underground, as well that it was in the Dawnguard's best interest that she be the one to recover it. While not an official member of the Dawnguard, Serana had taken up a temporary residence with the vampire hunters after their successful raid on her home, Castle Volkihar, and the prevention of her father fulfilling his apocalyptic prophecy. Her mother, Valerica, had left the Soul Cairn once the Dragonborn informed her of Harkon's death. The older vampire decided to stay in the now empty island castle, but Serana was not yet ready to mend their fragile relationship. Isran, the leader of the Dawnguard and despiser of all vampires, only tolerated her presence due to the Dragonborn's request. He would begrudgingly admit that the vampire's assistance was vital to their success, but he was still distrustful of her. At the moment, the Redguard refused to entertain her outrageous demands that the Dawnguard chase after whispers across Skyrim and into caves and barrows likely filled with her kind.
"Please, Isran," Florentius strained, "this looks thousands of years old! A wrong look might even damage it."
Isran scoffed. The Redguard could care less about vampire paraphernalia, especially when they involved another "ancient legend" of some vague artifact. After what he learned from the Dragonborn about the nonsense behind Auriel's Bow, he found it difficult to put any stock behind vampiric records of relics.
"So what? Even if it really is that old, it's probably just a trap. Another made up prophecy by some upstart blood sucker who wants to be the next Harkon."
His fellow Dawnguard member rolled his eyes but did not disagree. As usual, he would privately confer with Arkay on the validity of the documents Serana brought them. Far be it from him to argue with Isran, especially when it came to matters such as this. But if the writings were not genuine, then they were as much as an anomaly as the Elder Scroll for clearly appearing to be as ancient as claimed.
The vampire in their company was less inclined to be agreeable towards the Dawnguard leader's dismissive demeanor. Her brow scrunched, and her fingers clenched against her arm. Her father's name still held a shadow over her, even after his death. She partly suspected Isran used it just to taunt her, he was cruel enough to slight in such a way. She refused to take the bait, and instead closed her eyes to collect herself. Her journey with the Dragonborn taught her the values of patience and communication.
"My mother can confirm its legitimacy," she said with tempered annoyance. "The Amorous Amulet was created through a pact with a Daedric Prince. There are illustrations and records of its last known locations."
Isran straightened slightly. "Now that's a detail worth exploring. Which Daedric Prince?"
Florentius piped in. "Molag Bal, I'm sure of it. Given the amulet amplifies a vampire's power of seduction and subjugation, all signs point to the Prince of Domination. Not to mention he is the progenitor of vampirism - am I correct in this, Serana?"
Serana held Florentius in higher regard than his superior (then again, she held every member with greater esteem than Isran) and gave him the courtesy of a confirming nod. "Yes, which is why it's imperative we track down this artifact and either destroy it or seal it away. With my father and his entire court destroyed, every coven and clan has been looking for an edge against their rivals. We're talking about a potential clan war that will spill over to the towns and villages of Skyrim, maybe even all of Tamriel."
Isran stroked his beard. His hardened eyes drifted to his desk in contemplation. Vampire activity had spiked more than expected, and Florentius appeared to give credence to their vampire guest's findings. Regardless of whether or not he could actually speak to Arkay, Florentius was one of the few people in Tamriel that Isran trusted.
"Let's assume you're correct," the Redguard said, addressing Serana. "Why should we waste resources on a goose chase when we could be mobilizing to take advantage of enemy infighting? Let the blood suckers kill each other. We can focus on protecting vulnerable settlements."
"And how long do you think you can keep that up?" The vampire retorted, which earned a scowl. "And when a vampire powerful enough to wield it properly gets their claws on it, are you going to be prepared for my kind uniting against you? You can spare some men to ensure that doesn't happen, can't you?"
Isran slammed his hand on the desk. The gesture did not intimidate Serana, nor did he expect it to. "You mean sentence them to certain death in the wilds? Dragons, werewolves, and Divines know what else besides monsters like you are out there."
"They wouldn't be alone! I'd be with them -- I can protect them." She had stepped forward to challenge his refusal, making sure not to bare her fangs and with her hand over her heart.
The two Dawnguard exchanged bewildered looks. Florentius shrugged; he appeared to be convinced of her conviction. Isran was a tougher sell. He silently cursed the Dragonborn for their absence; she was off investigating some cult on Saltmine or Souls-time or whatever the bloody island was called. Isran could not remember the specifics, but none of it involved vampires, so he did not care. More dragon shit, probably, he thought to himself. Whatever the case, he much desired her to take care of Serana's nonsense. He had real people -- vulnerable people -- to focus his efforts on protecting. The camp of refugees outside Fort Dawnguard was proof enough of that.
"Do you even know where it's located?" Isran asked the vampire. Her reaction to the question failed to advertise an air of certainty.
Serana straightened and reformed her confidence. "I have a lead. There's an unnamed ruin outside of Rorikstead. That scroll you cast aside onto the floor is the last dated letter of the vampire nobleman I've been telling you about. It's addressed to a servant or possibly a concubine; either way, someone he trusted enough to summon to this location in secret."
Florentius scanned the document. "Looks that way. Especially this part about their 'service in eternal pleasure', that can't be good. Isran..."
The Redguard gave an irritated groan. Great, now he's invested, Isran thought. If Florentius thought a venture like this was worth putting stock into, he'd eventually persuade the Redguard to do the same; better for Isran to grit his teeth now and get the matter over with quickly. But he had to give the vampire her due credit as well. After all, she had done nearly all the legwork already for this fool's errand. As a vampire, she held no real clout within these walls, but her actions against her father proved as much that the Dawnguard leader could not easily dismiss her apprehensions. "Fine then. I'll ask around for volunteers and get some provisions ready. Be ready first thing tomorrow morning by the waterfall. But this favor is going to cost you; after we find this artifact -- if there even is one -- your respite at Fort Dawnguard is over."
Her fist clenched. "Fine."
Serana, as usual, did not sleep that night. Ever since awakening from her possibly millennium-long slumber, she had yet to feel an inkling of needing to feed nor rest. She spent the moonlight hours at Fort Dawnguard prowling for hostile scouts or other threats to the civilians camped outside the walls. She pitied those people; not just for their predicament caused by her kind, but because Isran, stubborn as an ass, refused to allow them inside where they would be better protected from potential attacks and the harsh Skyrim weather. She almost pitied the man for his clear lack of trust, even with innocent victims of his hated enemy. Almost. She was hardly able to condescend on such matters given her own uphill journey of putting faith in others.
The dawn cracked over the mountains that protected the canyon where the old fortress presided. Serana donned her hood, a habit now guided by muscle memory. The vampire hunters that would be joining her were not nocturnal, she understood that, but she suspected Isran wanted to torment her with as much exposure to sunlight as possible. She stood by the rowboat at the waterfall's pool, keeping watch up the path in expectation of at least a handful of Dawnguard. Florentius would have been welcomed, of course, and Serana would have also enjoyed the company of Beleval or Sorine. If Isran wanted some peace and quiet, he'd probably send the young Agmaer along.
She was surprised to see only one person coming along the trail: the Dawnguard leader himself.
