Chapter Text
The early morning sun beat down on Regis, bathing him in warmth and leaving him in an altogether pleasant mood. He was wandering the outskirts of Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery while on the hunt for new herbs. There were quite a few that grew among the weeds that littered the grassy areas between headstones, and he bowed his head as he walked along, eager to find new supplies.
After the entire debacle with Dettlaff, and the way the man had fled once it was all over, Geralt, being the good friend that he was, had convinced him to stay in Toussaint. It had been three months since their reunion and things were slowly getting back to some semblance of an easier life, changing and evolving to find some normalcy and a bit of peace for the pair. Yennefer of Vengerberg had welcomed the friendship, and had even found ways to thank him for the selflessness that he had shown years prior. After all, he was willing to die for her, and he almost had. He was more than willing to do it for all of them, really. The entire hansa. That was no small thing in her eyes, and it was plain to see the way she’d softened, living in Toussaint with her love, Geralt. After all this time, they finally found their happy ending.
Regis often visited. He even had the opportunity to see Cirilla on more than one occasion, to spend time with her and enjoy their mischievous pranks, good conversations over delicious food and wine, to head into the markets with her, and he was positively delighted by the way she admitted to considering him something of an uncle these days.
He was pondering his new life when he came across a heap of fabric in the grass. The deep foliage hid the body a bit, and it left everything somewhat obscured, so he made his way closer for further inspection. By the time he arrived, however, he heard a pained groan. He started in response, slightly bewildered, and paused.
“Are you alright?” asked Regis, eyebrows arching.
What he saw as he strode closer, however, left him thoroughly stumped. There was a man, or what he thought was a man, lying face down upon the ground. His arms were covered in scales, a soft beige color with hints of deep, chestnut brown and gray. When he turned his head, he had the snout and eyes of a dragon. He was horned as well. He was a lizard, surely. In all his years, Regis had never encountered another being like him. That had to be a first for him, as ancient as he was.
“I say,” Regis mumbled, kneeling down beside him. “Are you… Are you injured?”
The creature shifted onto its side, a hand clumsily checking its torso for wounds. “I… I don’t think so,” they mumbled. Definitely male, yes. Regis could tell by the deep baritone voice. It was rough, raspy. He was certainly confused and in a fair amount of pain as well. “I have no idea where I am,” he continued. “I don’t remember anything. At least, not right now, I don’t. How did I come to be here?”
Regis set his herbs aside, eyes raking down the man’s fascinating form. He was wearing well-loved leather armor and boots to match. “First things first,” Regis said, “tell me your name. Mine is Emiel Regis. I have to say, I don’t know when, why, or how you arrived here, but you are safe now.”
Those blue dragon-like eyes focused on Regis, and he slowly began to sit up. “My name is Eyvald.”
“Eyvald,” repeated Regis, as if trying out the vowels for himself. “And what manner of creature are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
It was confusing for Eyvald. Had this man truly never seen an Argonian before? The mere notion stumped him. He huffed through his nose and turned to inspect the gentleman. “I am Argonian, Master. Have you never seen my people before?”
“No,” revealed Regis. “I’m afraid I never have. Then again, these lands are vast. How you wound up here in Toussaint of all places, however, I’m entirely unsure.”
“Where?” Eyvald finally began to look around, thoroughly startled by the protruding headstones and the river beyond, the sandy shore that lay its edge, and the blue and cloudless sky above. All of it was as shocking as it was beautiful. “I’ve never heard of Toussaint, and I’ve never in all my years seen a place this gorgeous. Where in Tamriel are we? This area might rest at the edge of Nirn, yet I’ve no clue at all how I’ve arrived here.”
Again, Regis was still just as confused as before. “I haven’t a clue as to what you’re talking about, my friend. I’ve never heard of Tamriel, or Nirn. You are on the Continent, as this place is called, and somewhere, as I’ve previously stated, named Toussaint.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. The panic was beginning to rise in Eyvald’s chest, leaving him practically trembling in response, and Regis’ keen eyes took note of it.
“Come, come,” offered Regis. “I have a dwelling not far from here. Come home with me while we see what we can make of this mystery, shall we? I wouldn’t want the townsfolk to see you and be afraid. You’re harmless, I can see that now, there’s a plethora of kindness in your eyes, but they can be judgemental at times when it comes to new things. We mustn’t leave things to chance. Believe me, I understand that all too well.”
Later, in Regis’ crypt-turned-home, the vampire poured him a glass of wine to calm the nerves and asked what he last remembered from the day’s events as it was handed over.
Eyvald sniffed the goblet of wine skeptically before taking a little sip. “It’s been quite a day,” he admitted with a low chuckle. “I was to be executed, caught up with a band of other lads, ones I had nothing to do with myself. Just as I made my way to the block, about to be relieved of my head, a dragon appeared. Can you believe it? A dragon of all things? I escaped, along with some of the others. We were headed for freedom. Just then, something happened. Loose stones fell through the room above me, the building practically in cinders from the dragonfire, and I… Well, everything went blank. I must have been knocked out. I woke up here, with you standing above me, speaking to me. I’m just as bewildered as you are.”
With a soft sigh, Regis stood from his seat at the table, nestled in the corner by tall bookshelves, and grabbed something from a bench. “I’m a medic,” he explained. “I’m a man of many talents, rather. I’m a barber-surgeon, an alchemist, scholar, and brewer of mandrake cordial. Here… Let me look you over. If you were knocked unconscious, you might be injured more than you’re aware of at the moment. Let’s check your head. Is that alright with you?”
Regis was already rolling up his sleeves, and the Argonian wasn’t about to complain. He sighed, setting the wine aside and slowly shifting to push his rickety chair back from the table. The ache in his back was enough of a tell.
“Of course,” he rasped. “I thank you for it, Emiel, as with everything you’ve done for me today. It’s appreciated. Strangers aren’t usually so hospitable.”
Regis could only laugh. “I’ve had quite a few individuals say something of the like to me over the years. I enjoy helping others. It’s in my nature. I can’t help but care the way I do. I am, although, the first among my people to feel this way, no doubt. Time and circumstances have changed me. Now, tip your head back for me, would you?”
As he did as was bid, Eyvald got an eyeful of Regis as he came closer to check on him. He was wearing a crimson jerkin with a tall collar at the neck, leather, and worn boots. His hands were careful as they inspected his skull, the crown of his head, unsure because he was a species that he was unfamiliar with. He took his time with him, checking the back of his neck and shoulders as well. When he turned his gaze to meet Eyvald’s, he asked, “Your horns… Do they grow? Do they have sensation and feeling in them, as would something else, like nails or claws, for instance?”
The Argonian didn’t mind the questions in the least. “They do,” he said. “I have them pierced, as you can see, with a ring on each of them. It hurt, but it was worth it.”
Making a soft noise in his throat, Regis continued. There were a few cuts on the man’s neck, which he tended to, and then he did the same with the rope burns on Eyvald’s wrists, no doubt from his capture and near-execution. He took a moment to eye the gills on Eyvald’s neck as well, although he made no comment in regards to them. “Why were you taken?” asked the vampire, curiosity getting the best of him. “Had you broken the law?”
“No,” said Eyvald, hating the very idea. “I was on my travels. I found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose. There wasn’t anything I could do about it.”
When Regis was finished, he set his medical supplies aside and went about washing his long-fingered hands in a basin of water on the bench. “Then I’m very sorry to hear it. You were unlucky, my friend. As for your head, you took a rather hard knock to it from the stones. You should be careful for the next few days. As little light as possible as well, if you can manage it.”
“Of course,” Eyvald said slowly. “By the way, you do realize I can smell the fact that you aren’t human, do you not? Something’s different about you, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s your business, my friend. I only know that you’ve shown me kindness and consideration.”
A nervous, flighty chuckle tumbled from the vampire’s lips. His eyebrow rose, and before he could comment, Eyvald continued. “Like I said, it’s your business. You’re a private man, I take it, and I wouldn’t wish to intrude. I just thought you should know.”
Setting about folding up his medical instruments, Regis hummed. He ran a hand through his hair, now darkening and growing every-so-slightly longer and curlier once again. “Thank you,” he replied. “I would ask for your privacy in the matter. Others aren’t exactly aware of that information. They aren’t privy to the facts or as keen-eyed as you. Your sense of smell must be exceptional. And as you can tell, by living in a crypt, I do mostly keep to myself. It’s a habit of mine, finding undisturbed places of refuge to call home. This isn’t my first crypt to occupy, truth be told. But again, I thank you.”
Eyvald grinned, serpentine tongue flitting past his sharp teeth for a moment. “It’s perfectly fine, Emiel. I’m neither human nor boisterous in my opinions and discoveries. Everything is quite alright. And as far as you’re concerned, I’ve found you to be humble, kind, and well-humored. We’re both different from the locals, as far as I can tell. Perhaps we could use each other in these trying times.”
Allowing himself a small smile, Regis sighed. “You’re right. Of that, I’m certain. While we’re unraveling this head-scratching mystery, you are more than welcome to remain here, if you wish. I would hate for any harm to come to you, should you decide to explore the area and its many markets, peoples, and riches. Beauclair is dangerous for outsiders.”
Just as Eyvald was pondering the newfound friendship, Regis continued. “I do have a friend who might be able to assist in this matter. I should write to him immediately. I’ll send him a raven and ask for his expertise. He doesn’t live very far from here, and it shouldn’t take long at all.”