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"What, exactly, are we looking for again?"
Pirafri watched her friend rifle through ramshackle wardrobes and scattered belongings, the little fairy flickering yellow in concern. "...I don't know. He just...gets like this, sometimes."
"Wanders into vampire dens?"
"No, that part's a first."
Link glanced over his shoulder, giving Pirafri and Taliesin an unimpressed look. Taliesin returned it. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you going to say something? Because I am dying-" he gestured to the cooling corpse at his feet, "-for some explanation right about now."
The detour had come completely out of the blue. A few days ago, Link had decided to head out to Rorikstead—following some note, from what Pirafri had gleaned—and rather than part ways, the former Thalmor agent had insisted on coming with him.
It had been a practical decision, of course. A way to repay the Breton's kindness, true, but also an excuse to get away from the paranoid Nord village and its ramblings of dragons. More importantly, it was in the direction of Solitude; when they finally left each other's company, there would be less of this frigid province to travel alone to get back to comfort.
As far as the Thalmor presence there was concerned...he hadn't thought that far ahead. He'd get there when he got there.
But then suddenly, with the town on the horizon, Link had abruptly pulled them off-road, dismounted his horse, and charged blade-first into what turned out to be a cabal of vampire fledglings. And their master, of course.
Gods, Taliesin was going to need to buy a batch of Cure Disease potions, wasn't he?
Link, rather than acknowledge his demand for answers, looked at him. Then at the body. Then, after a moment's thought, came over and knelt at its side, and started rifling through its pockets.
Taliesin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you serious? You're looting now?"
Link shook his head.
"Really? Because that certainly looks like what you're doing."
Pirafri sighed. "Just leave him be. He'll find whatever it is in a minute or two."
"I beg your pardon?"
"He gets like this sometimes." Link beckoned her over, and she flew to his shoulder, hovering like a Candlelight. "He goes dungeon diving, or breaks into people's basements, or goes through mines looking for something, and he only ever comes out with that thing."
Taliesin's eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry—'breaks into people's basements?'"
Link gave Pirafri a sour look. Pirafri turned pink in irritation. "Don't look at me like that! You did!"
He abandoned the vampire's belongings to raise his hands in sign.
"No, that was breaking and entering!"
Another set of gestures, then he pointed his thumb over his shoulder at his sword.
"It wasn't your sword until you stole it!"
Taliesin crossed his arms. "Are you going to fill me in, or am I going to continue listening in to one side of a telepathic exchange? I'm feeling a little left out here."
Link glanced up, then back at Pirafri. He nodded towards Taliesin, then began signing again.
Pirafri let out a longsuffering sigh. "He wants me to tell you that he does not break and enter...usually." She muttered that last part. "It was one time, with an old lady in the middle of the woods that turned out to be a witch, and she had his sword. He was just looking for it."
Taliesin frowned. "'Witch' how?"
Link paused, mulling it over, then gestured.
"Her basement was full of potion supplies and soul gems and human skulls," the fairy translated. "Then when he stepped out, she attacked him for 'knowing her secret.'"
His frown deepened. "Did you know she was a witch before or after you broke into her house?"
Link raised a hand, then faltered, rubbing his neck sheepishly and avoiding eye contact. Then he signed.
"Her being a witch didn't play into the decision. He needed to find the sword." Pirafri glanced at her companion before voicing her own thoughts. "I don't know why his iron sword wasn't good enough before, but he really likes the one he has now. He keeps it under his pillow when he sleeps, and he always oils it before we go out. It's like he wants to marry it."
The Breton squinted, then batted at her.
"Hey!!!"
Taliesin ignored their antics, attention shifting to the cavern around him. It was a Skeever's nest of a den, really—idly, he supposed one would have to hoard every available resource when one burned in sunlight and frightened everyone they encountered.
Then again, the Thalmor Embassy was never this messy.
He didn't see any weapons on display, though, or anything that seemed to match the Breton's...aesthetic. The man loved green, he'd gathered that much, and he seemed to cherish handmade things. His sword had a kind of a...rough, backyard-smithy look to it. Not that Taliesin would ever say that to his face, of course; he knew better than to insult a man that could easily behead him.
What was strange about the whole thing, though, was how spontaneous it had been. There was no indication they would be heading to a vampire den before they were here. The only combat Link had prepared for had been the occasional wolf attack or bandit holdup along the road—when approaching this place, he hadn't even drawn his sword until he'd reached the cave entrance. Even when they stopped, it had been sudden, as if Link really had been committed to going to Rorikstead before getting distracted. Surely, if he'd been stolen from, he would have been more...single-minded. Right?
Taliesin cleared his throat, drawing his companions' attention. "So. What exactly are we looking for this time?" Link's eyes widened, and the Altmer pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Don't give me that look. You've dragged me into a vampire nest, of all things, and you've made it clear you're not leaving until you've found this mystery whatever-it-is. If I can speed things along and get back to fresh air, I will."
A pause. The Breton's blue eyes avoided contact with him. Link bit his lip, then shook his head.
Taliesin raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'no?' You don't want my help?"
A more fervent refusal, then signing. Pirafri studied his hands. "...He says he doesn't know."
Taliesin stared. Then he sighed, exhausted, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You don't know what you're looking for."
More signing. "It's complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"He says it sounds crazy."
"Crazier than leaping into an unknown cavern, sword drawn, and slaughtering a coven of vampires?" Taliesin scoffed. "I think we're well past the point of rationality, Link. If you have any explanations, crazy or otherwise, I'm all pointy ears." He gestured to his ears for emphasis.
Link took a moment to mull it over, before turning to Pirafri and gesturing rapidly, pausing only long enough to make sure the fairy understood. As Taliesin watched, she went through a myriad of emotional colors, though—shockingly—she didn't utter a word until he'd finished.
...He really needed to learn how those signals worked. Using the sprite as a proxy was undoubtably going to cause problems later-
He paused. ...Later? Since when had he ever considered a "later" with this man?
"...I think I've got it."
Taliesin snapped out of his inner conflict. "I'm listening."
"It's complicated."
"We've established that."
"No, I mean..." she flitted her wings, turning a frustrated shade of red-pink. "...He sees fairies."
Taliesin raised an eyebrow. "I think we both see fairies." He gestured pointedly towards the little light. "Unless you really are a hallucination and I've been misled this whole time."
She huffed in annoyance. "No, not me. Besides me. Fairies I can't see. They don't speak, they don't go anywhere, they just hover until Link finds them. And they've always led him to-" she paused, looking back at Link. "Treasure?"
Link shook his head, gesturing.
"Artifacts," Pirafri corrected herself. "Things that are important to him."
Taliesin frowned, tapping a knuckle to his chin. "...And there was one here?"
"Yes."
"Hmm." His eyes scoured the cavern again. Nothing he saw stood out as museum-worthy at first glance, just piles of clutter and junk. "What sort of artifacts?"
More gesturing. "It...varies," Pirafri translated haltingly. "Sometimes it's clothing. Sometimes it's weapons. Sometimes it's-" She paused. "Link, I can't understand that word."
Link blinked. He tried again, flicking his thumb like flipping a coin, then bringing his hands together in a hexagon shape. Pirafri turned green. "No, I saw it. I just don't get it. It's not like the rest."
The Breton frowned. Letter by letter, he spelled it out.
"...Rupees?"
A nod. More gesturing.
"...Gem money."
Another nod. Taliesin fixed him with a puzzled look. "Valuable gems, you mean."
Link looked his way, then shook his head quickly and clarified. "Gems as money," Pirafri echoed. "Where he comes from, people don't use Sepitims, they use Rupees."
"And where is that?"
A sign. Pirafri flickered. "I can't read that, either."
Finger-spelling.
"...Hyrule."
The word echoed through the cavern, hanging in the air like a strung axe waiting to fall. It was a curse. A forbidden word. One that carried crushing gravity, like the very utterance had awoken something ancient.
And then that feeling was gone. A dream. An already-fading memory.
Taliesin let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "...You're looking for pieces of your homeland," he said cautiously.
Link's eyes lit up, and he nodded quickly, then resumed signing.
"He says the fairies always hover near them," Pirafri translated. "Some of them feel familiar, and some of them he knows personally. The sword he took from that house was his years ago. He doesn't know how it got there, but if he can find out-" She paused, her voice softening. "...he can go home."
Taliesin stood in silence, a torrent of emotions swirling in his chest. Clawing for home...that, he could relate to. There wasn't much to miss about his home life, but the stained glass of Alinor, the pesky banter of his sisters, the warm purring of his cats—things he'd probably never get to go back to, now, he craved. It ached.
"...Let me see your sword."
Link looked up sharply, then backed away, giving him a wary look.
"Just—trust me, will you?" Taliesin held out a gloved hand. "I might not be able to see your...guidance fairies, but a Clairvoyance spell sounds like it'd do a better job. If I can just have some frame of reference, all it'll take is a drop of magicka, and it'll point us right to it."
The Breton hesitated, biting his lip.
"...Please." Taliesin softened his voice. "I only need it for a moment"
The man studied him for a moment...then sighed. He drew his sword from his back and offered it to the mer, hilt first. Taliesin reached out to grab it—Link caught his hand, fixing him with a blue-eyed, soul-piercing stare that needed no translation.
I'm trusting you. Don't make me regret it.
He let him go.
Taliesin exhaled heavily, nerves on fire. Stamping them out, he lifted the blade to examine it closely. "Pirafri, would you mind?"
The fairy flickered pink. "I'm not your Candlelight spell."
"With how eye-searingly bright you are, you may as well be." He beckoned her over. "The sooner I get this done, the sooner we can leave this awful place. Before nightfall would be preferable."
She huffed in annoyance, but went over to his side regardless. "Don't think this means you can order me around now, Thalmor."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he answered wryly. Her light in place, he raised the sword to eye level, peering down its edge.
It was an unremarkable thing, really, made of simple steel with a hand-bound leather grip. Well taken care of, but a little on the heavy side for a weapon of its size. The sort of thing a blacksmith's apprentice might make to prove they knew their job. No enchantments to speak of, either...sentimentality over practicality. Taliesin could respect that.
Drawing his magic to his fingertips, he tugged off a black glove, then gave the metal a flick.
Like in origin, not in make. This came from the same place as something here. Show me.
...Nothing. Either the criteria don't fit, or...
Taliesin took a deep breath, steeling himself.
Show me what remains of Hyrule.
Another flick—and this time, the metal sang. Pinprick lights scattered from the weapon, filling his vision like a sea of stars, before lining up into two separate channels.
Two goals. Two artifacts. One in a chest under the table, another tucked away on a high shelf.
"I see them." Taliesin offered Link his sword back, and the Breton all but snatched it out of his hands. "Lucky you, you have me, or else you'd miss it. There are two artifacts here."
Pirafri lit up. "Where?"
Taliesin pointed. "One in the chest under the table there—mind the setting, you don't want that blood on you. It's likely infected. Another up there, between the crates." He gave Link a self-satisfied smirk. "I'll go high, you go low?"
Link didn't even spare time to nod before diving under the table, dragging the chest out like it held the secrets to immortality. Feeling proud at having solved this little mystery in a way only he could, Taliesin pulled his glove back on and strode over to the shelving, reaching up high and grasping for where the stars had led.
His fingers closed around something jagged. Curious, he pulled it down to examine.
It was a broken piece of...something. It looked charred, almost, and weighed heavily in his hand like a stone. If he didn't know better, he'd have dismissed it as garbage like the rest of this place—maybe a piece of iron slag, or a broken axehead. Worthless, probably, but... "Link?"
Link glanced his way, halfway out of pulling a set of red-tinted armor out of the box. Taliesin held up his find. "What do you make of this?"
The color drained from the Breton's face. In an instant, he crossed the room, snatching the shard from Taliesin's grasp and throwing it onto the floor.
"Link, what-?!"
He grabbed him by the face, pulling the Altmer down to eye level and staring into his eyes. Cornflower blue met apple green, in an expression that made Taliesin freeze rather than shove back.
Fear.
He stood stock still as the man studied him. A moment passed, then two.
And then Link let him go, sighing in relief.
Taliesin rubbed his cheek sorely, reeling. "...Do you mind explaining what that was about?"
He was ignored. Link turned his attention to the shard, approaching it and crouching down. He poked it with his sword.
Nothing.
Pirafri drifted closer. "Link?"
Link held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks, eyes trained on the artifact as if it might leap up and bite him the second he looked away. Slowly, he unstrapped his wristguard and pulled off his glove, extending a bare hand towards the fragment.
A set of three triangles glowed softly on the back of his hand. The shard gave a weak, silvery glow in response.
Link frowned. Then, after a moment's debate, he grabbed the nearest scrap of cloth, bundled it up, and tucked it in his belt pouch, before turning back to Taliesin and signing.
"Are you okay?" Pirafri translated.
Taliesin snapped out of his daze. "Absolutely not," he hissed. "I'm completely unsettled! What was that?"
Link shrugged.
"What do you mean, you don't know?!" He gestured to his face. "You don't get to hold me in place like you're expecting Hermaeus Mora to pop out of my eyesockets, and then tell me you don't know!"
The Breton faltered. He looked aside, then signed.
"...He's sorry," Pirafri said. "He thought it was something else, and it made him panic. You're fine, so don't worry about it."
"Then what did you think it was?"
Link bit his lip.
"Link," Taliesin pressed, cold. "I deserve answers."
Link winced, then raised his hands again.
"...Something cursed." Pirafri flickered yellow. "Back home, he came across fragments of dark magic. They turned people that touched them or looked at them for too long into monsters, no matter who they were. He's had to fight people like that. He thought it would happen to you."
"I..." Taliesin faltered, anger and fear bleeding away into horrified relief. "...You're certain that...whatever it was isn't one of those things?"
A nod.
"Beyond all shadow of a doubt."
Another nod. More signs. "It's too plain," Pirafri said. "The cursed fragments had designs etched on them that react to him."
"Him? Specifically?"
Yet another nod.
Taliesin took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "...Are you keeping it?"
Yes.
"It's that important to you?"
Yes.
"Are you sure it isn't cursed in some way?"
...No.
"...Lovely." He straightened up. "Then I suppose I'll need to keep an eye on you. Ensure you don't turn, or whatever other horrors it might inflict on you."
Link looked at him in bewilderment, but the Altmer was already halfway out of the cavern. "Come along, you two. Let's get back on the road. I want an inn before nightfall."
The Breton and the fairy exchanged glances, then followed after him, Link taking only a moment to haul the armor set he'd found over his shoulder. As Taliesin heard the man's boots fall into step behind him, he set his sights rigidly ahead, hand resting on the dagger at his hip.
A lost Breton with no sense of direction or political knowledge. A bleeding heart who makes poor decisions around potential enemies. A slaughterfish out of water with no self-preservation skills, on a treasure hunt that leads him into fights—fights any sane person wouldn't dare pick, and any insane person would have trouble walking away from. A mute swordsman with only a fairy for company, and no one to watch his back.
If someone didn't look out for him, Link would die out here.
Against better judgement, Link had saved Taliesin.
A life for a life. Against better judgement, Taliesin was going to return the favor.
He might die. He might fail. But the attempt, at least, would prove to be interesting.