The elderly prophet motioned for me to walk beside him as Viconia leaned against one of the trees while flicking through the book. I hesitated briefly, wanting to go and provide her what little comfort I could but knowing that in her current mood she would prefer to be alone. It was green in the gardens, the flowers and grasses hibernating in the chill of late winter. While Anvil was too far south to feel the touch of snow or truly frigid temperatures it was still cold enough to make itself felt in the evenings. In the coming weeks Spring would bring life back into the gardens and flowerbeds of the city and I idly wondered how different the city would look when they bloomed.

  "How many years has it been since you retired?" I asked him as we walked and despite his shuffling gait the two of us soon moved in step with each other. "Twenty."

  He recognised my polite query for what it was and chuckled. "It's been much, much closer to thirty and you know it. In another life I was Centurion Saccicius of the 8th Legion, 1st Casta."

  "And now?"

  There was an amused sigh as we came to a small bench in the centre of the gardens and he carefully lowered himself into it. "The older one gets, the closer one comes to the gods and they look upon their life with all the brutality afforded by hindsight. I gave the Legion my life despite the fact that I still live to talk about it, but there are weights upon my soul that need to be lifted."

  "So coming here and declaring a crusade for Pelinal's Relics is a way of releasing you of these weights?"

  "In a way." Reaching down he snapped a strand of sweetgrass from the ground before popping the end into his mouth.

  "Then why do it?"

  Clouding with age and the early beginnings of cataracts, his eyes looked into my own as I sat down beside him. "Because someone had to. Because despite Pelinal's efforts and success Umaril's spirit survived and now he has returned to seek vengeance upon the gods. Most of all, I did it because dozens have died as a result of that accursed being."

  "Dozens? I thought there were only a few who died here."

  The length of grass in his mouth twitched and a melancholy fell over him. "Here, yes. There were only a few who lost their lives in the Cathedral yonder. But this is not the only house of worship to have fallen to darkness. The Church in their holier-than-thou attitudes are hiding the facts. The truth will be known sooner or later."

  Seeing the way I had fallen silent he raised a hand and ticked off the cities on his fingers as he named them. "Rihad, Markarth, Dunlain, Camlorn and Bravil. Each brought to ruin by unknown means but each showing clear signs of Umaril's influence. There may be more as the Church is going to great lengths to keep this hidden from the citizens of the Empire."

  "For what purpose?"

  His laugh was bitter. "Purpose? They are afraid of what they cannot control and what they cannot control will eventually destroy them in time. They are afraid of the truth, afraid of the implications that Umaril has returned and afraid that I am right; that without the relics and someone worthy to wield them he cannot be defeated."

  I caught his expression and caught my laugh before it escaped my throat. "I hope you aren't waiting on me and Viconia to take up this quest."

  "Why not? The legendary Relics have been sought by mighty warriors throughout the ages? I struggle to think of names as commonly known as Sir Desin and Madame DeVir. Are you not worthy knights?"

  Sitting quietly, I could feel his expression move from my face to the way that I way toying with my signet ring that represented my Knighthood. "Your faith is not my faith, and it certainly isn't Viconia's. More importantly we have oaths that we have taken and responsibilities that preclude us from roaming the lands seeking that which cannot be found."

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  "Ah. I see. You have a sense of duty, despite having challenged it in the past and you believe that something that has been lost for three millennia is doomed to be lost forever."

  "Three thousand years is a very long time."

  "True..." He replied. "May I ask that if you didn't have your current duties and responsibilities; whatever they may be... Would you have sought the relics?"

  "No."

  "And why is that?"

  "I have no need of the gods, and to my knowledge I do not owe them any favours either. It is more so the fact that the things that I have done and the choices I have made have left me far from worthy."

  Unseen to the elderly legionary, my own thoughts were left in turmoil. Even if I wasn't infected with vampirism and had fed upon a creature of Oblivion I had done far too much during my time to be considered worthy in seeking the most holy of artefacts in Tamriel. He took my dark expression with a simple smile that left his lined with age even more than it had been moments before.

  "Only the Gods have the right or the ability to truly judge the purity and worth of a man. For most of us our greatest foes are the ones that dwell within. Everyone within the life that they have been granted are destined to commit sins, and we are our worst enemies. But by accepting our downfalls and striving to remedy them, we better ourselves and honour the Gods in the process."

  A hand lined with age and heavily scarred from years of swords practice came to rest lightly on my shoulder. "One of the greatest truths that I have come to realise in my life is that the Aedra and the Daedra are much closer than what the church would have you to believe. The Eight and One do not wish for blind obidence, nor will they come to those that beg and grovel. They will come to those who truly need help and when they are truly needed, but like their cousins they reward those who do not seek as such. They mightn't be as straight forward about a boon for service like the Daedric Princes but they certainly do not favour those who simply pray and ask and ask and ask for something they aren't willing to do for themselves. Do not ask what the Divines can do for you, but ask what you can do for Tamriel and those in it. In this my boy you are more holy than most."

  Silence fell between us despite the noise of the city all around the tiny pocket of calm in the public garden where we sat. he couldn't tell my doubts or fears or true thoughts but he didn't seem to be trying to perceive them either. For a minute or two he sat quietly, massaging his sore knees and chewing on the strand of grass and simply taking in the sights of the garden around us.

  "You're too young to have retired from the Legion, and I very much doubt that you have suffered the sort of injury to have left you invalid. The fact that you have been Knighted also leads me to believe that you didn't leave the Legion in the traditional way."

  "Leaving the Legion traditionally usually involves a septim over each eye and a bonfire." I said with grim humour.

  He laughed. "I know that far more than yourself. It's a unique life, and the older I become the more I seem to miss it. I can't help but wonder what kind of duty called you from the ranks, but my curiousity is piqued by something else."

  Once again, the cold blue eyes gazed into my own and I supressed a shiver at the strength in them. "When was the last time you prayed?"

  "Trying to make a believer out of me sir?"

  His mouth curled upwards in one corner. "You'd prefer to put your faith into the sword at your hip and your mesmerising companion has a look about her that would put pause to an acolyte of Boethiah. I've found that sometimes praying can grant a small measure of peace that you didn't know that was lacking. There is never any guarantee that the Gods will grant our prayers or even respond to them at all. What it can also do is give you a different perspective on things. Perhaps it can give you answers that you didn't know you were seeking."

  "Wherever next your journey takes you from Anvil," He continued, dropping the remains of the piece of grass to the ground. "Consider stopping at the wayshrines along the roads. It will not add any more time to your journey and it might help you to clear your thoughts with a higher power."

  The smile he had was contagious and I returned one freely. "I'll consider it."

  "Good. Now, tell me of Morrowind. It has been years since I stepped foot on Vvardenfell."

  It was a couple of hours before Viconia managed to pry herself from the gifted book and come looking for us. The shadows had begun to lengthen noticeably but she found us both still sitting at the bench, laughing and swapping stories like a pair of old comrades. For the first time in months Viconia and I found ourselves relaxing, sitting and talking with Saccicius until lanterns were lit and the stars began to shine in the skies above.