Sorrow's Return - Chapter I

This story is a direct continuation of events set in HambleBee's RP The Oldest Ghost.

Argaeus boiled over with anger as he stormed down the sandy road. He had never expected that there would be such weaklings in the Vigil. Perhaps the chapter in Skyrim was just more hardline than the others. Or perhaps Edgar specifically was just an exception. If the former was true, then the Vigil was no longer useful as a vanguard against the spawn of Oblivion.

He was getting close to the empty Vigilant camp now. Good - the heat was unbearable today, and he needed to find some shade. The calm of an empty camp would be a good change of pace, too.

Except the camp wasn't empty.

Argaeus instinctively grabbed his mace from his hip when he saw that there was someone sitting on a log by one of the campfires, despite the crippling heat. The man was bald and had brown mutton chops and a moustache, and he wore a cuirass made of thick textile and leather. He hadn't seen Argaeus yet, so he was slightly startled when the Vigilant spoke up.

"You are sitting in the camp of the Craglorn chapter of the Vigil of Stendarr," Argaeus said bruskly. "You would be wise by explaining yourself."

The scrawny man stood up, which immediately made it obvious that Argaeus was at least a head taller than him. "Ah, it is you," he said. "I must say, I had expected you to be taller. All the others were. But no matter, I'm certain you will do just fine. Good to see you still carry that old mace, it is always a pain when they lost it and you have to go search half the continent for it. Well, no time to waste, we should get going."

Argaeus stared at the man, absolutely puzzled by his ramblings. "Now hold on a moment. I am not going anywhere until you start making sense. What others? What do you know about my mace?"

The man blinked once, then slapped his forehead. "Oh, of course, what am I doing? Time is taking its toll on me, I see. I forgot that you're new," he said. Clearly, his mind was a bit cluttered, and his mouth was faster than his head. "Well, simply put, you are the heir of the venerable and most noble House Sildor, I am the House's servant, Mortimer, that mace is the family heirloom, and your predecessor just passed away. The seat of the House cannot remain empty, and I have come to bring you to your home."

"My predecessor?" Argaeus repeated after a short silence. "You mean my father?"

The man, apparently called Mortimer, nodded curtly. "Yes, yes, Lord Parlus Sildor. He died of old age a week ago. You are now the head of the family. The family consists of only you now, though, so that means little."

"Sit down," Argaeus said, while he took a seat by the campfire himself. "We are going to have a talk, and you are going to tell me all about my family."

"Very well, but we should not take too long. We have much to do, and so little time to do it in. Ask me what you need to know."

"Alright then. First of all, why was I left on the Vigil's doorstep if I am the heir of a noble House? Surely the family has an estate and plenty of wealth if it is as venerable as you say?"

"Ah, that is a tradition as old as the House itself. The Lord's heir is left in the care of an order of warriors so he may grow to be a capable warrior. When the Lord passes, I then seek out the heir and take him home, where he will then fulfil his duties as the new Lord. Lord Parlus was raised by the Dark Brotherhood, and his father was a member of the Fighters Guild. I must say, though, you are the first Vigilant of the family. Pretty refreshing."

"Wait, you've done this before?" Argaeus leaned back. "How is that possible? How old are you?"

"I have been bound to serve House Sildor for a little over 934 years. Ancient pacts have kept me animated, outside the influence of time."

"You are undead?" Argaeus said, while he slowly gripped his mace.

"No, no, nothing of the sort, I'd rather call it immortal. Well, it's really just that I don't age, but technically that's immortality, isn't it?"

"...Right. You mentioned the duties of the Lord. Does that mean I am supposed to rule over a patch of land and govern its day-to-day business?"

"House Sildor has not had lands to rule over for centuries, my lord. We have faded into obscurity long ago. No, no, the Lord of Sorrow has a far more-"

"I'm sorry, 'Lord of Sorrow'?"

"-The Lord of Sorrow has a far more important duty, and that is seeking out and defeating the Lord of Torment, the Lord of House Andor, House Sildor's ancient enemy. Both are sworn to destroy each other, but House Andor's motives are far more sinister. The Lords of Torment have sought to subjugate Nirn and reshape it as a terrible realm of darkness for nearly a thousand years. The Lords of Sorrow are the only ones who have stood in their way in all that time. Not that we can expect anyone else to try anymore, no, no, both Houses have long since been forgotten, and now battle in the shadows. Nobody knows of the two warring Lords anymore, save for the occasional sighting of shadowy warriors by farmers or travellers in the night. You are the next one in line to become the new Lord of Sorrow."

Argaeus just sat there and listened to Mortimer talk on and on. "This is a lot to take in," he said.

"Your father said the same thing when this was revealed to him. They always say such things."

"So I am supposed to just leave and go with you to wherever it is you want to take me? I have been sworn to serve Stendarr since I was five years old, I can't just take off without a word."

"If you don't, then the Lord of Torment will make sure Stendarr can't even influence the world anymore. The current Lord is particularly vicious, he tried to kill me once. Me, a mere servant. How dishonourable can you be? Luckily Lord Parlus was there to stop him. Anyway, without a Lord of Sorrow, there is nothing in the way for the Andors to get their way. It's a tad bit more important than exterminating poor old Oblivion denizens."

Argaeus stared at the glowing coals in the leftovers of the bonfire. "Why me? Why is it so important that a Sildor becomes the Lord of Sorrow?"

Mortimer nodded in the direction of the mace at Argaeus' hip. "That right there. That mace is called Tir-dú, the Dusk Sentinel. It is the key to defeating the Lord of Torment, and it will always remain in the hands of House Sildor. Anyone else who wields it will just perceive it as an oversized mace. But when wielded by a Sildor, it holds the power to destroy the Lord of House Andor."

Argaeus was about to refuse Mortimer's offer, but then thought back to Edgar and how weak the Vigil had proven to be. What good could he do anymore among these people? All his life he had been raised as a devoted paladin of Stendarr, but now there turned out to be weakness among their own ranks. It was time to leave the Vigil behind, and set out to fight a more crucial battle.

"Very well. I accept. I will become the Lord of Sorrow."