9th of First Seed, 2E 579

During her time in the West Weald, Sarys made a habit of traveling around Cyrodiil 3 times a year. She spent one week traveling each time, seeing other cities and people, learning whatever she could, finding rare books, and expanding her world view. During this time her focus was still heavily on her own condition. She researched potential cures, despite not being sure if she wanted to give up the power and chance at immortality that she had.

It was during one of these trips, during her fourth year of undeath, that Fate decided to steer her life in a unique direction. She was approached by a few guards, and at first she was afraid she may have finally caught the attention of people who wished her harm.

Fortunately, that did not seem to be the case. She was informed that the Count wished to speak with her privately. She saw no easy way to decline, and so she followed them to a small alcove near the castle's exterior that led them inside. She was sat in a small dining room across the table from the Count, who seemed to look at her with soft appraisal. The room emptied aside from the two of them. Immediately, Sarys realized that the count didn't know what she was, but had sought her out because of what she was. He stood from the table and gestured to a door at the far side of the room. Sarys stood and followed.

The room beyond the door was a sad sight indeed. A room clearly put together with love at one point had been torn apart, the culprit being a teenage girl chained to the wall, heaving and croaking with every ragged breath.

"My daughter..." The first words that the count spoke. And the only ones needed for the entire situation to be clear.

"I can help. At least, a little bit. But doing so will come at a cost. If I am to help her, it will likely end in someone's death." Sarys' voice was low and steady, her eyes locked on the girl as she spoke.

"Very well. Chorrol is in good hands with my wife." was the Count's immediate reply. Sarys was taken aback.

"You have no idea what you're agreeing to yet. And you likely have a legion of men who would gladly die in your place. And if I'm being honest, they are more likely to survive the ordeal."

"She is my daughter. Her suffering is my failure. What kind of man would I be if I asked another to give his life to make up for my weakness? No, I have done that enough in this lifetime."

Sarys paused a moment, then smiled at the Count. "Very well. I will make sure we all get through this." She wasn't sure why she said it, she didn't even quite believe it... But she wanted it to be true. As she walked over to the girl, so weak with hunger, she gave the count one simple instruction. "What is about to happen... It will scare you. Your body will be screaming to run or fight. I strongly encourage you not to." And with that, she released the girl from her chains.

In a flash, the girl leapt across the room and sank her teeth into her own father's neck. The man, to his credit, had the wherewithal to not shout, likely drawing men into the room and therefore into danger. Sarys watched in silence as the girl sated her hunger. Watched as color drained from the Count's face. And when she knew that they were nearly at the point of no return, she uncorked a small bottle she kept tucked away in her robes, holding it to the girl's face. The count's daughter passed out instantly, and Sarys herself had to quickly cover her face with cloth and cork the bottle again. She chained up the daughter as a precaution, and quickly turned to the Count.

He was not dead, but she had to act quickly. Beyond standard first aid, she forced him to drink a tincture she once again produced from her robes. It tasted of venom and burned going down, but with her supernatural strength she made sure he drank it. Then she sat back, and waited.

It was only a few minutes before the count was able to stand. He looked with fear at his daughter, but his face quickly softened when he realized she was... different. She was sleeping. She was... peaceful. She seemed to finally be out of the pain that he'd watched ravage her body for weeks. And the man broke down in tears.

Sarys spent a few hours explaining to the count what exactly he was dealing with. How his daughter was now a Vampire, how she needed blood to survive, and how to keep a grip on her condition. She gave him formulae for the tincture she had given him, explaining that unintentional vampiric transmission is normally rare, but in states of extreme hunger, the risk increased due to voracity and increased exposure time during uncontrolled feeding.

His daughter stirred from her slumber, seeing the room around her and the two chatting in the shell of what was once her bedroom. She was confused, but also... not. Tears welled up in her eyes. Sarys had seen enough tears tonight, so she stood and addressed the count again.

"Your daughter now has a choice. She can choose to embrace her new life, and all that it brings her. Or she can find a way to get back to her old self. If..." she hesitated a moment, turning to look at her own hand as if holding something nobody could see. "If she wishes to be rid of this curse. I will find a way."

The room hung silently for minutes, nobody speaking or moving. Just as Sarys was about to finally take a step, a small voice broke through.

"Please..." the count's daughter spoke. "Please save me. I don't want to hurt anybody."

Sarys said nothing. She stared at the two of them as they embraced, a feeling of emptiness flooding through her core. She turned and walked away without answering.

She didn't need to.

The Cure - 14th of Midyear, 2E 580

Four months. Four long, dedicated months. That's how long Sarys spent working on a cure after meeting with the Count and his daughter. Of course, that's discounting the previous four and a half years she'd spent on this same thing already. By the time she had made her promise, she already had a very promising lead.

She showed up unannounced, looking notably disheveled, and demanded an audience with the Count. She was nearly turned away as a raving madwoman, but one of the guards recognized her. They quickly took her to see the Count, and they quickly moved to the same small but noticeably less destroyed room where his daughter remained, hidden away.

Sarys had heard, during these last 4 months, that rumors had begun to spread about the Count. Some said that he'd killed his own daughter and that's why nobody ever saw her. Some were considerably worse. And she knew that when his daughter suddenly showed up months later with no explanation, the rumors will not grow any kinder. She felt a pang of sadness, but also a swelling of respect for the man. He knew what was at stake, and chose his daughter regardless.

By that evening, a banquet had already been declared, and the Count and his daughter both insisted she stay to be the guest of honor. Sarys wanted to decline, but couldn't ignore the fact that this was an opportunity to nip the rumors in the bud. She considered her options, then shook her head.

"This banquet should be to celebrate the one who cured your daughter's highly contagious wasting disease... your castle alchemist." She smirked at the Count as she spoke, and he stared back in silent appraisal, and admiration. The count was no fool, he had seen the same problem Sarys had. And he saw now that she was offering a solution to yet another of his problems without putting herself in the spotlight.

Needless to say, the daughter objected sternly. But it was for naught as Sarys slipped from the castle and left Chorrol in silence to return to her home in the West Weald.

The Residuum - 3rd of Last Seed, 2E 580

It is the Five Hundred and Eightieth year of the 2nd Era, less than half a year since Sarys left the Count of Chorrol and his daughter to their banquet celebration. She'd filled the time with excited correspondence with her colleague and friend Ancotar Rilis. She'd managed to do what neither of them had til now, after all.

A knock came at the door to her home in the West Weald. When she opened it, she nearly fell over in shock. Standing in her doorway was the Count of Chorrol himself. Behind him was a small selection of men who she distinctly noticed were not Chorrol guards, or at least not wearing their uniform. The Count looked Haggard. Tired. Beaten Down.

"Please, come with me. There's something I wish to show you."

Sarys followed, the small band walking through the forests in relative silence. Not a man among them seemed relaxed. Each one clearly knew something she did not. It was unnerving, but she sensed no animosity from any of them.

As they walked for quite a distance, a castle came into view. Sarys knew this castle to be abandoned, unused and unclaimed. She always found it odd that such a magnificent structure should be allowed to go unutilized.

When they arrived, the gates were barred and the bridge drawn. Sarys nearly wondered aloud how they'd enter, when suddenly, everything started to shift. Chains moved and the bridge lowered. The gate opened. She noticed that the Count had been at the front of the group, muttering something right before this happened. She didn't give it too much thought, having faith that the Count would explain all in due time.

As they entered the castle, something made her slow just past the threshold. The approach had been overgrown, with the forest encroaching upon the castle grounds, sure signs that the place had been abandoned for close to a century, at her best guess. But upon entering, the castle felt more like its occupants had simply left, as if going on a long trip, and had simply not yet returned.

A thin, even layer of dust coated every surface — not the thick ruin of a place left to weather and rot, but something finer. Quieter. The furniture still stood. The tapestries still hung. Whatever had been left here had simply… waited.

The Count walked slowly through the Great Hall, a finger wiping a line through the dust on the table. He sighed and sat at the large chair at the head of the table. He rubbed his temple, and laughed softly. Then he stood once again.

"No, I suppose this seat is yours, now..." His words were spoken softly, as if telling that to himself more than speaking to Sarys. He moved to the next seat over and sat, gesturing for Sarys to join him at the table. His men spread out to check the rest of the castle, despite the count's protests that it was unnecessary.

"This... is the Home of The Residuum."

A New Beginning

"This organization has existed since before... Well, since long before my time or yours. Record keeping is sparse within this order, and non-existent outside of it."

"They called themselves 'The Residuum'. What persists. What remains when everything else has been consumed. I suppose the founders fancied themselves philosophers.." he laughed abruptly, seemingly at his own expense. "For centuries they operated from this place — investigating matters they deemed pertinent to the 'health of the empire', intervening in things it felt needed intervening. There is no record of anything they have done, and any of their Ciphers-" he sighed as he realized he was ahead of himself. "Those who worked for the Residuum never declared themselves as such. No trail, no record. They said they believed in the Empire — not the throne, not any particular Emperor — the idea of what holds the world together. There are those of us who, towards the end, wondered if that was a convenient lie they told themselves..."

He let out a soft sigh as he adjusted himself in his chair, looking more directly at Sarys. The tone in his voice changed, going from a man recounting old stories, to one who felt he was offering a warning. "The membership began disappearing in the early Second Era. Slowly at first. My father was among the last. He told me they never agreed on what was happening — whether they were being targeted, or whether it was simply... time catching up. In the end it didn't matter. There weren't enough of them left to continue."

"They chose to seal this place and leave, hoping that whatever was coming after them would accept this... token surrender. My father told me stories about this in my youth... I think he, more than any, resented their decision. I believe he wanted the work to continue. Why else would he include everything I'd need to know to resurrect this organization when telling me tales in my youth?" He let out another dry laugh.

"Originally, this was not mine to give. I doubt there is anyone left to object."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I have been carrying this since my father died, and I had come to believe I would take it with me. Recent events have... clarified my thinking. Whatever I have been holding, I will not be holding it much longer. And, surprising even myself, I find I care very much what becomes of it."

Sarys and the Count sat in comfortable silence for a few moments as she absorbed everything she'd been told. A shadow organization that had been dormant for essentially her entire life. Operating out of the land she now called home. With a sparsely recorded internal history, and a blank slate...

"I know you wanted to reward me for saving your daughter, but a castle seems a bit overkill, don't you think?" she teased, crossing her arms as she finally addressed him. Her candor put the man visibly at ease. "Tell me... This burden you've thrust upon me. What exactly is your role in all of this." She was forcing his hand. It was clear what the implications had been up til now.

"I... will be relinquishing control," the Count responded, his shoulders dropping slightly. "I'm a count, after all, I have much too much responsibility as it is."

"I see... So I can run things how I see fit? And this castle, it's mine now?" she asked pointedly, dropping her crossed arms and standing from her seat at the head of the table. "I would have thought we'd be working together on this... revival."

"I have the utmost confidence that whatever direction you choose for this organization, it will be the right one. Consider the castle my way of apologizing for heaping this burden upon you..." the count rose as well, and gestured for her to follow. They walked the halls, each one another instance of a strange time capsule.

"I assume you'll be giving me the command words," she said simply, as she followed. "I know this castle can't be so well preserved for a century while showing no signs of being disturbed in that time. This whole structure has been magically sealed from the outside world." She ran a finger through the dust on a mirror as they passed. The count only nodded.

They finally reached an inner vault, which the count unlocked with a mundane golden key. Inside was precious little, only a small table upon which a box sat. Inside this box was a parchment upon which a Charter was written. The parchment, Sarys noted, was not made with any process or material she was familiar with, even in her studies of the most ancient first era civilizations.

"This... is the Charter for The Residuum. On it you will see the obligations and mission statement that the founders believed in. It's largely symbolic, as it was recognized by no political body and bears no names - The founders believed that anonymity of its members was of paramount import." He touched the parchment briefly before closing the box. "Of course, as the new leader of the organization, and with no active members, the organization can take whatever shape you so choose..."

Sarys found that statement very interesting. For a man who did seem invested in the organization, for him to say so plainly that she could do with it as she pleased meant he was either resigned to some fate, or he had supreme confidence in her vision aligning with his own.

Before their conversation could continue, the count's guard found them, and insisted they had to get moving. The Count passed a sealed scroll to Sarys, letting her know everything else she could need was in there. And then, in mere moments, he was gone. Sarys was left behind in a castle, alone, with the burden of a good man's hopes and dreams, and the endless possibilities laid out before her.

She headed to the Library.