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“Aela, may I ask you for a favor?”
Aela looked up from restringing her bow and furrowed her brow. “Krosis? Do you know how late it is? Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Oh, ha ha. I’m not that old.” The Dragon Priest sat down across from her. “I found the location of one of my fellow Priests.”
“And Arenmir...?”
“Is working with Vilkas and Farkas to learn the Companions’ history, which I’m not going to pull them away from. Hence why I came to you. We’re going to what is now called Volskygge.”
Aela finished restringing her bow. “Then let’s go.”
---
“I don’t know whether we built these so far from civilization on purpose, or if civilization has just moved away from the mountains,” Krosis groaned. His feet ached with every step now, since he gave up on using levitation halfway through the trip.
“It may have been better for us to take a carriage to Solitude and work from there,” Aela agreed, in a similar state of pain. “I have no idea how Arenmir does this so often.”
Krosis pulled his map out of the side pouch on his armor and examined their directions again. “I believe we’re almost there now. I just...hope that Volsung is willing to listen to me.”
“Were you two friends?”
“We were, before I was...put to sleep. I was the first of the Priests to be entombed, as I was the youngest.” The youngest besides Miraak, Vahlok, and the three traitors who followed Miraak, but Krosis didn’t see any reason to specify that and get into the betrayal right now. Perhaps he would, when he and Arenmir went to Solstheim to face Miraak, but that would be in the distant future. “I don’t know how long the others have been entombed, or what happened after I was.”
“Then let us wish for the best and prepare for the worst,” Aela decided.
They continued to travel in shared silence.
---
“I didn’t realize how much these places suck,” Krosis groaned, retrieving his arrows from the body of yet another bandit. Even the draugr were aggressive towards him, something he didn’t understand. These were the laypeople that the priests like himself led and taught, why were they attacking him? Was he not one of them? Were these from after he was sealed away, so they didn’t know him? But he bore his own mask, they should be able to identify him as a high-ranking priest. He didn’t know what to think, as the draugr weren’t inclined to stop and talk.
“We’re getting closer to the end, I think,” Krosis called to Aela. “I think we’re going up.”
“Great. Be ready for more trouble.”
They fought their way through some spiders and a particularly powerful draugr. There was a final set of stairs, then they were in the open air. A Dragon Priest’s casket stood on the mountain before a word wall bearing the phrase “Nonvul Bron, dahmaan daar rot do faal Fodiiz Bormah Oblivion loost nid nah med spaan vahdin beyn.” Upon seeing it, Krosis chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Aela asked.
“The wall up there. The inscription means, in the modern tongue, ‘Noble Nord, remember these words of the Hoar Father – Oblivion hath no fury like a shield maiden scorned.’ It’s like they were warning this Dragon Priest of your approach Eras ago.”
Aela punched Krosis in the arm. He knew he deserved it. He turned his attention back to the casket. He floated over carefully, just in case there were traps of some sort around it. He landed on the ground softly, then knelt down to read the inscription to confirm that it was Volsung. It was, which made Krosis’s heart soar. They had been close in life, with Volsung taking on a mentor-like role for the other, younger Dragon Priests (besides Nahkriin, the eldest of them all). Perhaps he was still enough in his right mind that they could speak.
Krosis reached out and pressed the release on the casket. The cover flew off, which Krosis barely dodged. He placed himself between the casket and Aela, just in case time had made the other Dragon Priest hostile. Volsung floated up out of the coffin and readjusted himself, preparing a frost spell before he realized another Dragon Priest stood before him.
“Krosis? Vir los hi het?” How are you here?
Krosis took a moment to remember the old tongue and convey exactly what he meant. “Yun Dovah Thuri, faal Dovahkiin. Mu bo wah krif Miraak.” New Dragon Lord, the Dragonborn. We are going to fight Miraak.
Volsung’s head tilted. His mask obscured any facial expression. “Los faal Dovahkiin mul?” Is the Dragonborn strong?
Krosis laughed. “Zos wey hi lorot!” More than you think! He stepped aside and gestured to Aela. “Daar los Aela. Ah grah-zeymahzin do Ysgramor.” This is Aela. Hunter battle-companion of Ysgramor. “Aela, this is Volsung, the second eldest of us.”
“It’s...good to meet you,” Aela carefully said. Krosis translated.
“Ol wah hi.”
“He said, ‘As to you.’ Volsung, fen hi hiif mii krif Miraak?” Will you help us fight Miraak?
“Geh.” Yes. Thank the dragon-god.
---
“Should I even ask?” Farkas groaned once the door to Jorrvaskr was opened.
Krosis grinned under his mask. “Probably not. Farkas, this is Volsung. Volsung, daar los Farkas, kendov grah-zemahzin do Ysgramor.” Farkas was a warrior ally, not a hunter one, though the differentiation was a moot point to Atmorans like himself and Volsung. “Where’s Arenmir?”
“Out dealing with a problem alongside Vilkas, Athis, and Torvar,” Farkas reported. “They’ll be back in a few nights. Need help getting our new...friend...settled in?”
“If you would, yes. Light armor, frost magic.” Krosis turned back to Volsung. “Valokein wah Jorrvaskr.” Welcome to Jorrvaskr.