Valerion didn't wait very long before he decided enough was enough.
He picked himself up from his chair, downed the rest of his wine and said goodnight to the room, and to those bothered enough to listen to it.
With his helmet in his hand he left the room and went to the other side of the castle, and into a room that had several bed, each with straw mattresses and fur skin covers.
A common bed, but no doubt this far up in the mountain a welcome relief to the harsh and unforgiving cold, and equally cold hard stone that surrounded them. 
Valerion laid himself on the nearest bed and closed his eyes, dropping into a nondescript, uneventful slumber. 
He had managed about 3 or 4 hours of sleep, which was better than normal. Another downside of not being completely alive was that sleep didn't bring much respite, and sometimes he was lucky to get any at all.
The fight with the troll must have been more taxing than he originally thought. Sitting up from the bed Valerion peered out side the window; if you could call it that. It was more like an arrowslit. It was still dark, the snow was falling lightly and a small, bitter, breeze was whistling through the castle. It was strange but Valerion began to sense a small feeling of nostalgia from his days in the Jerall mountains. The place where he had killed hundreds, maybe numbering in the thousands of travelers, mercenaries, merchants and even the odd war band from the days of the Aldemiri Dominions invasion. 

-------

[i][u]4th era, Year 78, Last Seed, 10th Mondas[/u]
[u]Sancre Tor, The Jerall Mountains, Cyrodil[/u]
Valerion let out a long, mournful sigh. It had been another day, and another unsuccessful attempt to try and make animated husks intelligent. Or at least to the point were they would be a fearsome warrior alongside you in a fight, the normal reanimated husks were useless. Practically fodder, and not worth the magika spent on them.
The last caravan that came through here had came from a mine located further along the road. A few guards, and a couple of miners hoping to get to Bruma, to their warm hearths and their cold ale. But they never made it. Another one that mysteriously vanished in a storm.
Well that's what the Black Horse courier would likely say about it. Nobody had yet discovered, or survived to tell the tale of Valerion, who was the one causing them all to vanish. Or, more accurately, taking them all to Sancre Tor. 
He had got used to horse meat as a food by now, it was generally either fatty or tough and stringy. Since food caravans were rare coming through here.
But other than that Valerion had pulled a lot of use from the last one. It had an abundance of gold and iron ore, and a bit of silver and corundum. Which Valerion was making use of in his homemade forge. He just needed Moonstone to finish off a very unique and special suit of armour he was making. 
He had also gained 7 souls and 7 corpses to use in his experiments.
Looking up from the desecrated corpse laid out on a stone slab before him; Valerion took in the main hall that he had used as his main Laboratory, it was a large spacious room with several old, imperial styled supporting columns keeping up the tonnes of earth above his head, and the 2 other main floors as well as the old castle itself. For something so old, they were still doing their job. There were several slabs of concrete that Valerion was unsure as to their original purpose, but he was using them to hold the corpses whilst he done what needed to be done. All of them were now stained heavily with blood, and had turned from a stony grey to a deep onyx. The light from the several braziers and torches located around the room actual made the place more ominous and spine-chilling than before.
Valerion wiped his hands on his apron and quickly washed them in washbasin he had near the exit towards, what used to be the barracks; now what was his study.

Taking the apron off he placed it on a unused torch sconce to let the the blood dry out. Then he began walking down the empty halls towards the study.
Even though Sancre Tor was only used by Valerion, and the few daedric guards he had summoned on the first floor, the place looked as if it was always used. There wasn't a single speck of dust or a single cobweb in the entire fortress. Even debris from some of the old crumbling parts of the castle seemingly disappeared after a while. 
Valerion liked this a lot though, he would have hated this place if it was a ruin. It didn't take him long to reach the two heavy oak doors that separated him from his most frequented part of the fortress.
But, for the first time in 70 years. Something was wrong...
The left door was slightly ajar. Generally this would be disregarded. But Valerion knew better than that. The chilling thought was that his weapons and armour were in this room, apart from magic Valerion was defenseless. His 'work' clothes, as he liked to call them were little more than leather and silk. Offering no defense, even to a sharpened spoon.
Valerion collected energy in his right palm, and pushed open the left door with his left hand. Ready to destroy whatever lay within side. 
What he saw, he could never have prepared for or imagined in the entirety of his life.
He stood there, frozen with disbelief. Only the unknown person speaking broke him from this state. 
The voice was odd, almost ethereal. Deep and twisted, and unfitting of the figure that was sitting in the solid mahogany chair that Valerion spent most of his time in. 
"There's no need for you to be alarmed. Valerion."
"I come with an offer. And one that I don't think you could refuse." 
A small smile curled on the lips of the; seemingly small man. He had horns perturbing from his head and a face that looked as if it would be better suited on a mask. 
"My name is Clavicus Vile." He said with great pride. "And YOU, are exactly the type of person that I've been looking for." 
"Come on in and close the door. We have much to discuss."
Valerion hated the fact that he was invited into his own study. But he wasn't about to argue with a god. So he stopped his magic flowing into his right palm and eased the door shut, the noise resonating off the empty halls of Sancre Tor...[/i]

-------

Valerion had been thinking about that day for a while now, it was important, and instrumental to many things in his life but dawn was showing on the horizon and it was time to get ready to descend the mountain again.
It took him and the others about a few hours to get ready, resupply and reach the bottom of the mountain. The journey down was much easier than the one up, as the weather had improved greatly, and only the odd light snowfall that occurred every now and then deviated from the clear skies that hung above the party.
Once they passed the bridge Delphine broached the subject of who should lead them.
Valerion smiled from underneath his helmet. He had a feeling it wouldn't be him, he was a peerless warrior and had more than enough experience behind him in terms of strategy and tactics. But he thought that the rest of them would appreciate someone who was alive to lead them. 
He began to think through who would be the best, if not him. Nikalous was certainly a respectable choice. But he thought him to attached towards the other one. The eccentric inventor, it was unwise to bring someone you like on this quest, as an subliminal bias would inevitably arise from his decisions. 
The girl was likely inexperienced for such a role, and many others that were in the party Valerion deemed insufficient or the role of leader.
However the thought the Argonian; Dreet-Na, seemed a likely candidate. 

Hearing the others pipe up about Nikalous, and the Khajiits, accurate point of who would be best after dealing with a dragon. Valerion spoke.
"I agree with the Khajiit. This should really be best left till after our first engagement of a dragon. Why appoint someone a leader who is then proceeded to be killed but moments after?
But I digress. I vote for Dreet-Na. He seems the most logical choice out of all of us."