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Entry One: My beloved wife, Rona, has given me this journal as a gift to celebrate the 35th anniversary of my birth. It is a most welcome gift, for as a sorcerer and a Count, it is good practice to leave written accounts from which future generations might learn. I predict that this journal will be full before the year’s end.
Entry Two: My steward, an Argonian named Jee’Nah, hired a new cook named Jhana to replace old Dilan, who has retired after thirty years of faithful service to my family. She’s a surprisingly talented cook for a Khajiit, though she is rather strange. She refuses to handle garlic (a pity) and yesterday evening as I dined I caught her staring at me from the kitchen doorway, a strange expression on her face. When she realized that I had seen her, she merely smiled hungrily and turned her gaze to Rona. Most unsettling. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the incident, or if there was anything to make of it at all. She has not engaged in suspicious behavior before or since, and I am loath to accuse her of wrongdoing over what may have been a simple misunderstanding. Nevertheless, after dinner I pulled the captain of the castle guard aside and instructed her to have one of her battlemages surreptitiously watch Jhana for a few days, just to be sure. After all, it’s not just my safety I have to think about, it’s Rona’s as well.
Entry Three: Note to self: make sure there is nothing sleeping near the targets on the range before practicing fireball spells. I can ill afford to keep buying Arnoldo new sheepdogs.
Entry Four: The battlemage who has been following Jhana for the past three days has nothing of interest to report, nor has her behavior towards me been the least bit suspicious since her that night, though I would be lying if I said she wasn‘t a bit odd. I feel a bit of a fool for being so wary of her in the first place, and I am glad to have been proven wrong in this instance.
Entry Five: It is just as well that I have called off the battlemage who had been watching Jhana, for I need every available soldier ready to defend castle and town against a horde of invading goblins. They are great in number, but if their shaman can be slain, the rest should lose morale and flee. She is likely to be well-guarded, however, so this will be no easy task. The warriors of the Fighter’s Guild have all eagerly volunteered for the job, and should prove to be vital assets. The local Mages’ Guild however, cowards that they are, were not so enthusiastic, claiming that their guild was focused on magickal research rather than practice. After numerous threats, however, they too have offered assistance. They should prove to be valuable, provided their fear of my wrath continues to override their fear of goblins.
Entry Six: Bloody goblin spellcasters. It’s going to take weeks for my eyebrows to grow back.
Entry Seven: The Nine must be smiling upon us, for three powerful adventurers arrived today to offer their assistance in repelling the goblin invasion. I met them in person today, but I already knew of them from their great deeds throughout Cyrodiil. They are an Orc, a Redguard and a Dunmer, and their names are Ograna gar-Thul, Roxene and Teliil respectively. An odd bunch, to be sure, but I have no doubt that they will prove to be valuable allies. Apparently they are also friends with and former associates of Jhana, who, as I came to learn, is a talented illusionist. What could possibly have made her choose to leave her adventurous lifestyle in order to become a cook? I suspect I shall never know. However, if ever I wanted proof as to the quality of her character, this is it.
Entry Eight: I believe that the strain of war is beginning to have a deleterious effect on my mental health. For the past few nights I have woken in a sweat, certain that I’ve heard footsteps and quiet, throaty laughter by my bed. There is never anyone besides myself and Rona in the room, of course. I should probably cut back on ale for the duration of the war. It’s not doing my mental state any favors.
Entry Nine: Rona and I are both increasingly ill as of late. We wake up each morning more exhausted than we were before we went to sleep, and go about all day in a sort of fog. I’m not certain of the cause, but if I had to lay a wager I’d say that the stress of our current situation has left us fatigued. No matter. In the morning I will lead the final charge against the goblins. One way or another, this war will end on the morrow, and I cannot afford to show any weakness or allow this illness to slow me down.
Entry Ten: I return victorious. The goblins will threaten Skingrad no more, and their shaman’s staff now lays on the mantel in the great hall as a symbol of our victory. However, our side was not without its losses. Half of the town guard fell bravely in battle while cutting a path to the goblin shaman, and the Fighter’s Guild lost nearly all of its local members while defending the Mages’ Guild, who sustained no casualties thanks to them. For their part, the mages proved to be surprisingly competent and well worth the time and resources it took to threaten them into compliance. However, the true heroes of the day were Jhana and her associates. While Ograna, Teliil and Roxene protected the archers, Jhana cast an invisibility spell on herself and snuck up to the shaman, stabbing her from behind and turning the tide of battle. Unfortunately, during the resulting confusion, she herself fell to a goblin berserker’s war axe. Her friends have asked if they might have her body, so they can bury her in her homeland, and how can I refuse such a request? I truly regret having ever doubted her.
Entry Eleven: I had a disturbing dream last night. I was drinking from a swift, clear stream, when suddenly the water turned to blood, and yet I could not stop drinking. Rotted, disembodied human limbs, heads and torsos floated down the stream of blood and still I drank until I felt ready to burst. Even now I cannot banish that image, that feeling from my mind. I spoke with Rona about it (though I spared her the details) and discovered that she had had a similarly upsetting dream. By this time our symptoms had begun to add up in my mind, but it was not until we stepped outside into the cursed, burning sunlight that I became certain. Rona and I have been infected with vampirism.
Entry Twelve: It’s been two weeks. Rona is still inconsolable. She refuses to feed, no matter how much I beg her. Jee’Nah even offered her blood of her own free will, and still Rona refuses. She has grown so weak already, and I fear for what will happen if she does not feed soon. In the meantime, I’ve had the captains of the guard search both castle and town for any sign of the vampire that did this to us. So far they have found nothing, and I fear that the vampire may have moved on.
Entry Thirteen: Evidence at last! My guards found Jhana’s journal hidden under a floorboard in her old bedroom. In it are the details of her plan to infect me and Rona with vampirism as revenge for executing her former partner. I don’t understand, though. If she wanted revenge, why not just kill us and be done with it? She certainly had ample opportunity. Perhaps she intended to do so, but wanted us to suffer first? However, if that’s the case, why risk her life on the field of battle when her work remained unfinished? Were her friends aware of her plan? I suppose I’ll never know the truth now. Oblivion take her.
Entry Fourteen: Rona has fallen into a coma.
Entry Fifteen: It has been over fifty years since I last picked up this journal. After my last entry, I couldn’t bear to even look at it for a long time, as it served as a reminder of my foolishness. After a while, however, I suppose I forgot about its existence. Odd that I should find it now, when I’ve finally been able to grant Rona the peace she’s been longing for all these years. A few weeks ago, an adventurer arrived here, seeking a cure for vampirism. I too have sought this cure for many a long year, but due to my station, I lacked the freedom of movement necessary for finding it. I passed what little information I had onto the adventurer and sent her on her way, not daring to hope that she would succeed. I had all but forgotten about her when she arrived this morning, bearing the cure that would bring Rona the rest she deserved. Melisande the witch helped me rouse her one last time, and I said my final goodbye as I gave her the cure. It’s strange. Though I know I will always grieve for her, a part of me is relieved to know that her suffering is over. I can’t help but wonder if this isn’t what Jhana wanted. I’m no closer to an answer now than I was fifty years ago.
The End.