Old Habits Die Hard Part Three, The old dog practices new habits Options

[haute ecole rider]

Here is the first of a third thread for Old Habits Die Hard. I appreciate all of you staying with Julian and I this far, and hope you stick with us to the end!

For those who want to go back to the beginning, here you go:
Old Habits Die Hard Chapters 1 - 7
Old Habits Die Hard Chapters 8 - 13

[haute ecole rider]

@trey: I see you thought the relationship between husband and wife felt real. I’m glad.

@Acadian: I knew you were due for a meal! Julian never leaves Paint in Snak’s den - why when Merowald is so cheerful and happy to see her and Paint? Yes, you are right - Julian’s time in Bravil is coming to an end. But like MacArthur, she shall return (only without the ego).

@Foxy: there are days when I feel like half of what I’m doing is collecting money! Please, no thanks!

@hazmick: Thanks for the thumbs up. That’s a piece where we see the old drill sergeant in action. I love bringing that part of her past up.

@SubRosa: It’s just a matter of knowing when the other guy is ticked off at you - better be ready than dead.

@Olen: TBH, I laughed at the Sage’s comment because that Charm spell was only going to keep Julian from attacking Soris, which she wasn’t going to do anyway. As for your question about how to spend an afternoon/evening . . .

@mALX: Isn’t that what all good sergeants do - be good mothers (while the officers are fathers)? I’m not sure if that’s really a workable solution, but sergeants do need to know when their grunts are squirming on the inside!

Julian is sidetracked yet again by her growing fame as Hero of Kvatch (and Bravil).

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Chapter 14.6 Order of the Virtuous Blood

As I entered the Temple District on my way to my home, a Dunmer woman shyly accosted me.

“Pardon me, I’m sorry to trouble you,” she spoke timidly. “But I was sent to ask for your help.”

“I’m sorry, and you are?” I responded.

“Oh, where are my manners,” she exclaimed softly. “I’m Ralsa Norvalo. My husband, Gilen, has requested that I find you and ask if you’d assist him.”

“Assist him how?” I asked.

“Normally I wouldn’t approach a total stranger like this, but Gilen seems so insistent,” Ralsa hesitated. “Please, forgive my audacity . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“It’s all right,” I assured her. “Go on, please.”

“Thank you. Gilen always tends to exaggerate, but in this case he sounded earnest, which worries me a bit . . .” She glanced around. “He said that the matter he needs help with is of the utmost importance to the citizens of the Imperial City. Please meet him at Seridur’s house, which is located here in the Temple District, just southeast of the Temple. He said all will be explained when you get there.” She looked at me uncertainly. “That’s all he told me to say.”

“All right, Ralsa,” I stifled a sigh. “I’ll be there.”

A Watchman directed me to Seridur’s house, east of the tunnel entrance. A large stone building, it faced the outer wall, fronting a narrow street that ran along the fortification. I knocked on the door. A voice called from inside for me to enter.

As I paused just inside the door, closing it behind me, I found myself in a fusty atmosphere, lit by torches, dark after the bright day outside. Heavy tapestries hung on the walls, covering the few windows at the front and rear of the building. Waiting to let my eyes adjust from the bright sunlight outside, I heard footsteps approaching me. A tall Altmer in gold-trimmed blue velvet greeted me, his eyes shadowed beneath tilted brows.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you. When I heard you were in town, I just had to send for your help. Your reputation precedes you.”

I stared at him. Reputation? “I’m not sure what you’ve heard about me -” my voice trailed away.

“You’re Julian, the Hero of Kvatch, aren’t you?” he asked. I inhaled slowly, and nodded. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Seridur,” he continued, pressing a long-fingered hand over his flat chest.

“Pleased to meet you, Seridur,” I returned politely.

“Likewise,” he bowed slightly to me. “Sorry to send Gilen’s wife to get you in that manner, but it seemed safer if we weren’t seen on the streets right now. Now, if you’ll come with me, please.”

“Lead the way,” I said.

“Splendid!” Seridur exclaimed. “Watch your step.” He turned away and walked towards the rear of the house, past the stairs rising to the second floor. At the back of the room, a Dunmer in steel plate looked up from his cold lunch. We passed him, and Seridur led me to a door beneath the stairs.

He opened it, and started down another flight of stairs that led into his cellar. I found the steps well-lit by torches, and followed him down. If anything, the air in the cellar was even more suffocating, aggravated by the smoke wafting from the open brands.

Seridur stopped in the center of a room at the end of a short passageway. I looked around as I followed him, seeing the bookcases along the walls, benches and chairs, a patterned rug on the floor, and more tapestries on the walls. Two men, an Argonian and a Dunmer, rose from their seats as Seridur faced me.

“Welcome,” he said to me. “You’re now in the sanctuary of the Order of the Virtuous Blood. Few outside our circle have ever set foot in our hallowed hall.” Hallowed hall? I thought to myself, but kept my mouth shut. “We are, for lack of a better word,” Seridur paused briefly, “defenders. We guard this city from an infestation that plagues it. We are vampire hunters.” He turned and took a couple of steps away from me, then spun on his heel and looked back at me. “I’m sure you are familiar with these despicable beings, feeding on the innocent as if they were cattle. Well, this group was formed to combat them.”

He waited as I looked around at the other two men. The Argonian’s posture revealed the age that did not show in his face, and the Dunmer had more creases, and deeper ones, in his than I did in mine, though his close-cropped hair was much, much blacker than mine. As for Seridur, he had the typical ageless look common to the Altmer. He must have read my mind, for he continued, “Alas, we are but three old men, not able to match the fighting prowess of the vampire. We lack the strength to defeat them in battle.”

“What do you hope to accomplish, then?” I asked Seridur.

“Our goal is to root out the vampires that live in our fair city,” Seridur responded. “So far, we’ve been unsuccessful at finding one, until now.” Now his shadowed eyes gleamed in the flickering light from the torches. “It’s come to the Order’s attention that Temple District resident Roland Jenseric is a vampire, and has already claimed one victim.” He scowled at me. “That’s where you come in. We want you to find this vampire and cleanse the city of his filth before he can feed or kill again.”

I regarded Seridur thoughtfully. “What makes you sure this Jenseric is a vampire?” I asked finally.

“A few nights ago, I was roaming the city as I often do, looking for any signs of a vampire. As I headed past Roland’s house I heard a cry,” Seridur’s voice took on the rhythm of a recitation. “I rushed into the back garden to find Roland struggling with a woman he’d been courting. I tried to intervene, but he was too strong. He threw his lover to the ground and turned his attention on me.” His brows rose, but his eyes remained shadowed. “Luckily, I managed to run back into the street and escape his grasp. I hid for a while, then returned to the garden. Roland was gone and the woman was dead.” He paused, his eyes steady on mine. “She had two puncture wounds on the nape of her neck. That’s when I realized he was a vampire.” Now he scowled. “The Order needs you to track him down and destroy him.”

Something about Seridur, and his story, bothered me. His monotone delivery was not what I expected, but that was not all. Still, I couldn’t pin it down, so I decided to play along, for now. “Where do I find this Roland Jenseric?” I asked.

“I would start by searching his home,” Seridur answered, his expression brightening. “He hasn’t been there for days, so it should be safe. Return to us here if you have questions. We meet at night.”

“And where is his house?” I held Seridur’s gaze, unable to see his eyes in the flickering shadows cast by the torches.

“His home is located in the Temple District. Right across the garden from my home in fact,” Seridur’s lips curved in a sardonic smile. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ironic,” I answered. “Anything I should know about vampire hunting?”

Now Seridur’s slanted brows lowered over his shadowed eye sockets. “Vampires are nasty creatures,” his tone turned cold, “drinking the blood of others to conceal their true natures. Such trickery makes them difficult to find.” He smiled. “You should ask Gilen Norvalo,” he indicated the dark-haired Dunmer, “or Deep-Throat,” the Argonian, “about these creatures as well. They’ve learned much.”

I looked at Norvalo, his Dunmer-red eyes returning my gaze as steadily as a fellow soldier. “My knowledge is at your disposal, Julian,” he said, his voice velvet-smooth and as dark as his skin.

“What do you know of Jenseric?” I asked him. His face darkened even further.

“Roland was always a quiet man,” his tone held compressed anger. “It was only recently he’d met that young lady. Poor girl. We must avenge her death.”

“Aye, we should,” I agreed. Norvalo seems honest enough, I thought to myself. “Any vampire-hunting advice for me, ser?”

His brows lifted, and Norvalo’s eyes gleamed like rubies in the flickering torchlight. “It’s said that the bite of a vampire has the chance of infecting the victim. If this occurs, they’ll become a vampire in a few days. Be cautious.”

“Thanks, I will be careful,” I responded. Deep-Throat, the Argonian, greeted me. I turned to face him.

“How can I be of sservisse?” Deep-Throat’s voice was not as velvety smooth as Norvalo’s, or as melodious as Jeelius’s, but his tone was welcoming enough.

“Did you know Roland Jenseric?” I asked him.

“He wass very much the loner,” Deep-Throat responded. “He never married, and wass rarely sseen outsside hiss housse. I’m ssurprissed hiss ssecret wassn’t disscovered ssooner.”

“Have you ever hunted vampires before, sir?” I was beginning to get the same feel from this Argonian that I had from Norvalo - just as honest and earnest.

“The vampire cannot exisst in the daylight for long,” Deep-Throat responded. “As the ssun’ss rayss sstrike hiss flessh, it will burn as if on fire.”

“So daylight would be my best friend,” I mused aloud, “if I can get one of these creatures outside.”

“Aye, if you can,” Deep-Throat responded. “Be ever vigilant,” he warned me. “Vampiress are creaturess of deceit.” He turned and walked towards the stairs leading upwards. I looked around again, reflecting on the conversation. Something about Seridur still bothered me.

We meet at night. His words echoed in my memory. It was now after noon, but they were still here. I looked up to see Norvalo and Seridur follow Deep-Throat to the stairs. I fell into step behind them, curious to see what they would do.

Upstairs, they passed the Dunmer guard with murmured greetings, and while Seridur headed upstairs to the second floor - where his private quarters are, I presumed - Norvalo and Deep-Throat headed out the front door. After a moment, I assumed that I had been dismissed, and headed out myself.