TheCzarsHussar

Skjari, Dales Imperial palace Noon Her memory stirred, passionate moans, laughter, sweat, sharp steel. Blood...blood everywhere. Darkness. And then light. The young woman's blue eyes opened, and her vision returned after adjusting to the light in the room. Her body felt very tired, and limp. She struggled to turn her head, and saw a man sitting on a chair, reading a book. It was her puppet master. She sighed slightly, as her unsparkling, and cold eyes moved around the room, taking in the rest of her surroundings. She noticed her masters hands channeling magic, and soon a strange looking frost worm materialized into the room. "Awake I see." He said as the ice wyrm stopped from taking full form and he closed and put down the book on the table next to him. "You should be fine. Though I would suggest taking it easy when standing up." Dales slowly, and steadily attempted to have her upper body straighten out. She felt like shit. She yawned quietly, before saying in an emotionless tone, "How long was I out?" "Almost two days. You lost consciousness at the evening and was out for the whole of the following day. And if you look out you can see that it's noon." She glanced to the window, before shying away from the blinding light and covering her face with her sleeve, she groaned slightly, "What-Ah..." She fell silent for a second, before she coldly starred at her master, "Homunal, were is she? I trust you managed to capture her." "Got two of her fingers. But sadly, she got away." Dales eyed him, with her navy orbs. They didn't have the normal gusto and sparkle connected to Dales, "Your saying Lilly let her get away?" "I wasn't really around, I was in Skyrim along with you to fix you up, so I don't really know who to blame. She jumped through the window and we aren't exactly near the ground. "How...unfortunate." Dales snorted. "Have I missed anything?" "Lorgar did a hasty visit here in the city. He's lost it completely. Hircine this and bloodlust that. He had someone to help teleport him to safety and he got away too. At least now I'm improving your room's defenses a bit as you can see." He gestured casually with his left hand to the almost complete frost wyrm, then to the roof where almost half a dozen of those things were neatly placed and completely frozen so they looked like glass sculptures decorating the roof, as long as one didn't look too carefully. Her eyes sharped even more, "You... let Lorgar get away?" She chuckled darkly, "If he could evade you, I highly doubt your claims of his insanity... Did you arrest his wife?" "Apparently she left the city earlier the same day. And just because he's insane doesn't mean he's clumsy or unlucky." "So you let my assassin, and an extremely dangerous traitor get away when I was sleeping... how unlucky." She stretched out slightly. "I can also start blaming you for seeing her to begin with. But I'd rather not start a rather pointless argument over the past as I assume you've learnt your lesson." "I should have researched her background extensively. Yes, I understand. I don't plan on getting involved with anyone for awhile." Skjari shrugged lightly, picked up and opened the book with right hand while he started to calmly channel the magic with the left hand to finish constructing the ice wyrm. "So tell me. Have you dealt with Jon yet?" "He's fleeing north. Caught half his army. And Tullius decided to lose his head, both figuratively and literally." "A shame-" Before she could finish what she was about to say, a loud voice interrupted, and someone ran into the room, yelling, "Dales!!!!." It was a female, she wore aristocratic clothing, and had strawberry-blonde hair. Her physically appearance was attractive, if not dead drop gorgeous. Her eyes, were the exact same navy blue color of Dales eyes. She looked slightly above Dales age, around mid twenties, Skjari could hear Dales mutter under he breath, "Oh great." The girl rushed forward to hug Dales, but before she could Dales lifted her hand, "Lizzie, what are you doing here?" The girl, this Lizzie, responded in a energetic voice, "Visiting my favorite cousin, of course." Dales corrected her, "Second cousin." Skjari chuckled as he was finishing the last touches to the ice wyrm and it slowly sprung to life. Lizzie, who was seconds before smiling like an utter idiot, gasped in shock and fear at the floating ice monster. Before she could scream out, Dales put up her hand once again, "Calm down. It's merely a guard." "Something like that." He said and held forth his arm which the ice wyrm then slithered itself around from the elbow to the wrist, with the head looking back at him for a couple of seconds before flying up to the roof and joining the others, completing the imperial dragon symbol that the others had already begun to form. She looked up in awe at the mage's play of magic, before remembering her manners and curtsying the man, "Forgive me milord for my rudeness, I am Baroness Lizzie Flortus, second cousin to her majesty on her mothers side." "I'm Skjari, the court mage." He replied casually. She smiled at him, before blushing, "My cousin never mentioned...she had such a handsome nord for a court mage." She energetically laughed, "Though her majesty doesn't seem to look at men for there handsomeness, eh Dales?" Dales grumpily sulked and said in a amusingly grouchy voice, "Shoo." He returned a light friendly smile. And then he looked at Dales and the smile turned slightly coy. She was going to be his wife, might as well start acting the part. Dales gave a viscous snarl in annoyance, before waving her hand, "You must be tired cousin, I'll have have Skjari show you too a guest room. I assume you'll be staying for the night?" "A month in fact." "Okay-WHAT?!" Dales sudden said, louder then intended, Lizzie started to giggle and said coyly and somewhat jokingly , "We can cuddle again-" Dales rolled her eyes blushing, , while saying, "I gave you a request, master mage, please show me cousin to her room." He got up from the chair and bowed lightly to Dales and Lizzy. "This way. And pardon Dales, she's had a rough time with the recent assassination attempts." Lizzie waved to Dales, as she followed the master wizard out of the empresses room, at the door the wizard gave Dales a stern glare and then subtly formed his lips as if to blow her a quick kiss, to help her get the meaning. Dales only gave him a stern and defiant glare back to him. He rolled his eyes before catching up with Lizzy down the corridor. Dales however got the feeling her body and very soul had just been dropped in freezing water. Lizzy followed behind him closely, the mage could tell she was debating if she should speak, her facial expression was extremely worried. "Something bothering you?" He casually said and barely gave her a glance as he did. "Her majesty seems...different. Last time I saw her...she was such a happy girl." "Power, responsibility, betrayal, attempts at one's life and so on can do that to you. It's all still rather new to her." "I do hope she's alright. Have you considered...material pleasure to ease her a little?" She asked with genuine concern, "Snuggling up to her made her feel better when ever I visited her." "Flesh" She asked him, "I could...do some stuff to please her highness if you wished, if it would make her feel better." "Here's your room." He said and opened the door to the guest room. "You can have one of the servants move your stuff in here." She nodded, before saying, "Watch out for her for me. She thinks I'm annoying and obnoxious no doubt, but I worry for her. She's so young..." I'm too old for babysitting. "I will keep an eye on her." He gave her a light and courteous bow before heading back to Dales' chamber. By the time the mage got back to Dales room, she was already sitting by her desk reading a document, on her left side was a legionary at attention. Dales asked the soldier, "So moral is mixed?" He said in a courteous and professional voice, "There are some unrest among the soldiers after the incident with Tullius and Jon, ma'em." "Things only need to stabilize. After the victory against half of Jon's army with barely any casualties and that he is now fleeing north out of Cyrodiil. I would say things around here will calm down rather quickly. When it does we can focus more attention on the more important southern border." Skjari said. "As you say sir." The legionary said, turning around and saluting the mage. "Dismissed." He said, slightly wearily. The legionary saluted both of them, before leaving the room. Skjari waited till the soldier closed the door behind him. "You need to start acting at least a little bit like my wife." And he sounded a little annoyed. "Why?" She said coolly, "It's a sham isn't it?" "Do I really need to tell you why?" "Yes, yes, You want to be seen as a positive light in public, want me to kiss you on the cheek and lip, and call you honey." She said sarcastically. Skjari drew a heavy sigh as he fell back in a chair made of a levitation spell, making it look like he was sitting on an invisible chair. He leaned the chin at the left hand as he looked down for a second before turning his gaze back at Dales. "Well now I'm giving you the order to behave the part from now on, only subtly till the wedding is announced." Dales rolled her eyes, "Yes I will." "Good. Now who is this... relative of yours?" "Lizzie?" Dales facepalmed herself, "My second cousin on my mothers side, she's the baroness of Appledawn, a small fief southeast of the imperial city." "And what kind of business would she have here in the city, or more precise, the palace?" She waved her hand, "Lizzie is as harmless as a fly, as stupid as she is. She's most likely visiting out of genuine concern, nothing nefarious. We're close I suppose." "Just make sure she doesn't become a burden." "Her annoyance matters little, but I'll make sure she doesn't go overboard." He got up from his invisible chair and walked over to the table and picked up the tome he had been reading when creating the ice wyrm, after looking at the book's cover for a couple of seconds it disappeared. "Can't leave my books to litter the place, now can I?" "You cant." "Is there anything else?" "Nothing. Leave me. " Dales said tiredly. "Or..." He walked up behind Dales and put his hands on her shoulder as he leaned down to whisper into her ear. "I can stay if you wish." He slowly started to pull down her dresses shoulder straps, and Dales could feel the work of magic as her body was filled with a soft warmth and light sensation of lust and pleasure. "Feels good doesn't it? Don't you want more?" He whispered coyly into her ear. Dales was about to say something when the magic came to an abrupt end and he put the shoulder straps back. Leaning back he chuckled a little. "Don't worry, I'm just joking with you." And he made his way towards the door. Dales, who despite feeling strange and how suggestive her master was being, managed to keep a cold and straight face, and she didn't seem amused by the joke, she said as the mage left, "Not funny." And with that Dales went back to her writing desk. Skjari smiled a little at Dales comment. "Try to cheer up. Things could be worse." He said as he closed the door.

Lorgar Grim-Maw, Milly Quentas, Witchie, Lucienus Valerius Imperial City, Evening, Lorgar rushed forward, and kicked open the door into Millies room, in the background Lorgar could hear the sound of screams, Lucienus was holding them off. A single taskforce of Pentiulas Occultus soldiers usually consisted of twelve agents, but in a high class operation, two other taskteams were on standby near the area, in case the situation got out of hand. Meaning Captain Valerius could only hold his own for a limited time before being overwhelmed. Hold out a little longer Wraith The oak doorway opened in a bang, granting the nord entrance into his wife's room. It was very spacious and had expensive looking furniture, which Lorgar knew belonged to him and Milly. Milly must have moved quite a bit of their stuff into the room when she decided to stay at the fox. In the corner of the room, sitting on a writing desk, was Millernius Quentas. She was as petite as ever, as she lightly snored and drooled, with her splendid golden hair messily sprawled across her shoulders, which was unusual, since she prided herself for her lovely hair. Her pale skin matched the white/violet dress she was wearing, and her trademark large gold spectacles were set beside her on the table, neatly taken off. Though many people at court had sneered at her "mouse-like" appearance, and constantly made fun of her for it, Lorgar thought she was utterly adorable, both in her appearance and her wonderful personality. This is the first time he had seen his wife in around a month, and all he wanted to do was embrace her, Unfortunately I don't have much time. The nord gently tapped her on the shoulder intent on waking her up. The woman stirred, before yawning tiredly and stretching out. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, and placed her spectacles on her face. She moved her head to see the person, who woke her up, while saying, “Yes Catia-“ As she faced her husband, her eyes filled with shock and her voice trailed off. Lorgar smiled weakly, “Hey dear-“ Lorgar was interrupted by Milly, rushing forward and pulling the large nord into a massive bear hug, squeezing him tightly, she squealed, “Lorgar!!!†Lorgar gently returned the hug, patting her back lightly, “It’s great to see you too honey.†They remained in the embrace for around twenty seconds, sharing each other’s warmth. Milly was smiling and words were forming in her mouth. Before she could speak, Lorgar interrupted her in a kind, but controlled voice, “I’m sorry dear, but we don’t have much time. You need to pack, only essentials, right now.†Millies gaze grew dead serious, un-characteristic of her, before nodding her head. She ran forward to her dresser, and began to pack clothing. She spoke in her normal voice, but with a slight sense of seriousness in it, “I assume you’re sending me somewhere?†Lorgar nodded his head, as he helped his wife put clothing in a pack. “Yes. To Solthsiem, you’ll be staying with my cousin Frea.†She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Is she aware I’m coming?†Lorgar chuckled slightly, “No. But I’ve written a letter of introduction for her. Trust me, Frea’s the type of person who would insist a non-hostile traveler to stay at the village for a few days, if she knows you’re my wife, and you’re pregnant, I’ll doubt she’ll ever let you leave her care†Milly asked another question, igoring the fact Lorgar knew she was with child “Frea would be at the place you grew up, the skaal village, correct? How will I find it-“ As Milly said that, a figure suddenly appeared inside the room, it was Captain Valerius. Though Milly was surprised, she wasn’t scarred. She knew this man. “You…†Lucienus turned and gave the girl a bow, “Lady Quentas.†Smiling, he faced once again towards Lorgar, “Sir, two more taskforces have arrived, with reinforcements from the watch just around the corner. I’m afraid they’ll be here in several minutes. I held them off for as long as possible.†Lorgar swore loudly, as he handed Milly a bag, “Milly. I’ll meet you at the dock.†Before Milly could say anything, Lucienus said, with a worried look, “And what will you be doing?†Lorgar smirked, “My mansion contains sensitive information. I’m going to torch it.†Lucienus frowned, and protested, “My lord, we don’t have time-“ Lorgar shook his head, “I need to do this. Some of those documents could raise my warrant from five thousand septims, to over twenty.†Knowing it was useless to argue with a nord, Lucienus instead took out a large black bow, and threw it towards his commanding officer, “Use this sir. It’s a family relic. It reacts to daedric blood. It’s similar to a conjured bow. You won’t need arrows to use it. I’ll deliver lady Quentas to a safe location, and then I’ll retrieve you from your mansion and watch from the shadows.†Lorgar grabbed the thrown bow, and scanned it while it was in his hands. Its beauty was undeniable, with its glossy black color, and delicate carvings. Lucienus nodded his head, and saluted, which Lorgar returned. Before Milly could say anything, Lucienus grabbed her from behind, and in an instant both the vampire and imperial disappeared in a flash of shadow. Lorgar himself wasted no time jumping out of the window, and into the rainy streets below, **** Lorgar walked through the hallways of his once proud estate, now a hallowed shell. Since Lorgar, and Milly left, the staff has abandoned it and let the cob webs and dust settle in. Not prime estate anymore for sure. Lorgar was clad in the black longcoat Lucienus had provided him, along with the vampire's ancestral bow, which only reacted to beings with daedric blood and power flowing in their veins. Lorgar needed to double check on everything, destroy any sensitive documents and files, and see if he needed to fetch anything. Lucienus had said it was a waste of time, and a blunder, but Lorgar had to be sure. His footsteps were silenced and with care he approached his study. The study wasn't much different from the rest of house. A dusty desk and bookshelves. Some books were missing, probably taken by servants before they also abandoned the place. But something felt wrong about the room. Suddenly the door slammed behind him and was overgrown with a wall of ice spikes. A large section of the room where he was standing lit up with fiery glowing runes on the walls, floor and ceiling. The windows was also covered the same icy wall as the door. "What do you even fight for?" And in front of him behind the desk was the court mage sitting. Lorgar's eye brows rose, as his stoic face adopted a frown. He couldn't break through that wall of ice, as well as the windows. Lorgar was trapped in his own study That bastard's here. I should have known.... He drew his bow slightly, and let his power flow through it, causing a blood red spectral bowstring to appear on the dark weapon. He moved forward a few steps before responding in his normal voice, "Does it matter what I fight for? That question I have asked myself so many times over the last year, with the answer changing each time I asked." The runes around him glowed brighter and a few even had small flames burst forth as Lorgar got closer. "You may want to take a few steps back and take your hand of your little bow. Unless you want to be turned to ash." Lorgar, while lowering the bow slightly, kept it in his hands, as he moved four paces backwards, observing the exits, which were impossible to break through at this time "Good boy." The wizard picked up a couple of shackles from under the table and put them on the desk. Lorgar's eyes narrowed on the shackles, which he could tell were rune-forged, and were made of silver. ****, I'm not going into those things Lorgar had told his second to watch him from the rooftops, hopefully, Lucienus would arrive to assist him soon. For now, Lorgar had to stall by talking. He deadpanly muttered, "Didn't know you were into that sort of thing, mage." "I'm not really. But one of the maids is, also likes to bring a blindfold. But enough about that. Put these on and you receive a quick death." Lorgar's closed eye flashed sharpening, and the fury of Hircine filled his veins and thoughts, causing the red orb to glow even brighter, "Like how you gave a quick death to Tullius?" "He wanted to split what little that remained of the Empire. Such a traitor can't be allowed to live. Even you must understand that." "He deserved better than a Butcher's blade," Lorgar snarled angrily, his temper getting out of control. "He fought for the empire his entire life, everything he did was for the empire. And you reward him like that?!" Lorgar showed his fang-like teeth in anger, as his hand quenched into a fist. I need...clarity...Tullius knew the consequences of his actions...he made his own choices and decisions, and it costed him his life. Still...he was my friend...my comrade...my brother... Before he lost it, Lorgar took a deep breath of air, and cleansed his mind from the fury. He wouldn't be blinded. Calming down, he once again spoke in his normal stoic voice, "And besides, I doubt he would want to follow a little girl like Dales. Two assassination attempts and she's already in a coma." "She'll be up and walking in a couple of days." He paused for a second "And yet he followed Mede and his Thalmor acquaintances. He had lost his head, figuratively and the result was to lose it literally. You've also lost it, you attacked the Stormcloak generals. And for what?" Lorgar's face once again showed little emotion, as his eye's glowing light began to recede, "I lost my way a long time ago, when I accepted a deal with a devil. What remains is a shell. Just like this mansion. My soul is forfeit to the hunting grounds. My blade, and threw my blood Hircine, compelled me to reap Baldur Red-Snow's life, as it did his with Wife Rebec Hull-Breaker, and his friend, Boldir Iron-Brow. Yet I still fight, because I made a promise. One which I intend to keep." He starred at the mage, his eye changing hues of red, “When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back. I've been staring at the abyss for quite some time now, and it has starred back at me. I have seen the night, the truth about this irredeemable world, and yet I will fight on regardless, and refuse to turn into a monster." He continued, " My uncle used to tell me I was good at reading people. What I see before me is man whose obsessed with power. A man who can’t even protect a little girl...who is the real monster, me or you?" The mage looked bored at Lorgar's little speech. "Well that depends on how you define monster." The shackles floated off the table and opened up in front of Lorgar. "Don't you think it's time to end this madness you've succumbed to? If you live you will only cause more suffering and death. Is that what the Skaal teaches? Or do you have no respect for your own heritage?" "The Skaal believe in the way of the all-maker, and the way his creations represent." He closed his eye for a second, while saying, " I follow the path of the wolf, kill when it is necessary to survive and live, and care for the rest of the pack. The only way I can live is through battle, I am nothing without it, I kill when it's necessary, to make a living for me and my soldiers, as the wolf does." He opened his eye, causing bright red light to brighten Lorgar's face, "On the contrary, mage, I've never been following my heritage as closely as I am now. My mind is clear, and I have clarity of thought." "So instead of settling down and learning simple farming, you think killing is a better path? It's time to put on the shackles." "It's the only thing i'm good at. I've been fighting and killing my entire life, I kill with purpose and nostalgia." Lorgar looked at the silver shackles, he wouldn't give in. He slowly, but steadily drew his greatsword, "I'm going to whatever hell is meant for me, but until then, I will never surrender, or lay down my weapon. Neither imperial, nor Stormcloak will stop me from my endless battle." I won’t give in...I will never stop...I will never move backwards but forever forward...In the name of the wolf, I will fight the enemy, regardless of their allegiances....the night will end. "You have no real purpose. You kill because you want to. You reject the simple life because you want bloodshed. But if it's the Hunting Grounds you seek, put your hands into these shackles and your passing will be fast. Or you will feel the searing pain as your flesh is burnt away from your bones." "My purpose is to kill. The All-maker wanted me like this. But unfortunately for you and your puppet, I have people to live for...†As Lorgar said those words, the Ice covering one of the windows shattered in a ball of fire, as a shadowy figure jumped in through the doorway. Though some of the ice scratched him and the black jacket he wore, he continued through the room in a flash of darkness, using supernatural speed to reach the white haired nord. And as the ice in the window broke, the runes activated and the two got engulfed in flame. The engulfing fire storm was right at the two men’s feet, both Lorgar and Lucienus could feel the utter heat of the spell, however, right before it consumed them they disappeared in a flash of darkness. They instantly reappeared on a roof, located in the market district. Lorgar was on his knee's breathing heavily, he survived. By the all-maker he had escaped death. He turned his head to thank his second, who was bowing his head, "My Lord are you-" "JEESH MAN, YOUR HAIR IS ON FIRE." Lucienus looked up to see his fine black hair being torched into cinder, as flame spread on his head. Lorgar rushed to him, taking off his coat and relentlessly beat the vampire's head with it. Lucienus yelped, "OWWW OWWWW OWWW..." **** Lucienus, with his hair slighty tinged, grouchy stood at attention, as his CO and his CO’s wife said their goodbyes. Millies eyes were filled with tears, while Lorgar looked like he was about to cry. Lucienus snickered, Let’s hope he doesn’t act like that infront of the men. Milly was crying, she said in an unstable voice, “Why…why can’t I come with you?†Lorgar muttered, “I’m sorry honey. That’s too dangerous, as is the imperial city. Cyrodili is soon going to be engulfed in the flames of war and I’m going to be fanning flames of war around Cyrdoili, surrounded by…people who aren’t suited to be around a person like you. I’m not letting you stay here, and I can’t let you come with.†Milly planted her face into the nords shoulder, weeping, “When will you be there?†Lorgar comforted his crying wife, gently patting her back and felt her stomach, “I’m not going to leave you-both of you. I will be there in Solsthsiem as soon as I am able.†He compassionately kissed on her forehead, before taking out two letters. He held the first letter to Milly, before giving it to her, “This is the one for Frea.†He put it in her pack, before handing her another letter, “You asked how you would get to the village earlier. Once you arrive in Raven Rock, head to the local inn, the Retching Netch. Ask the owner for a dumner by the name of Teldyrn Sero. Give this to him. He’ll take you there after paying him some gold, which you won’t have any troubles with†She looked at him worriedly, not even a master actress could pretend to this extent, these tears, worries, and hopes were genuine “You haven’t been in Solsthiem for several years, right? How do you know this “Sero†is still in Raven Rock?†Lorgar affectionately put his free hand to her cheek, “I doubt Telydrn has anything better to do then stay in his loathed town, trust my dear, he’ll be there.†And with that, Lorgar eagerly kissed her on her red lips, which Milly enthusiastically returned. They kissed, without any other thought except their love for a full minute, before stopping. Milly hugged her husband one more time, before sadily heading forward onto the dock, and into the ship. With all of its passengers on board, the ship’s captain steered his ship onward, and left the dock, leaving two longcoat clad men alone.

Lorgar Sky-Wind, Lucienus Valerius, Catia Ceno, Evening. Imperial City, Lorgar opened the heavy oak door, and stepped inside Catia and Grahhus's relatively "luxurious" inn , with his vampire comrade close behind. With a flick of his wrist, Lucienus strange glowing purple eyes became a sickly grey color, while Lorgar closed his right. They didn't want to arouse suspicion. Both of the men wore almost identical uniforms, having a dark longcoat, along with a pair of black leather gloves. Lucienis quietly told Lorgar, "I spotted five men on the rooftop near the fox, I think the Occultus is on to us." Lorgar swore, "****. Let's be done with this then." The two men went up to the counter, and Lucienus asked the girl in-charge in a polite voice, "Excuse me miss, we would very much like to speak to the owner, Catia Ceno. Tell her a friend of her husband is here." Ena looked up at the men, a chill going down her spine. Both men were decidedly creepy, especially with their strange eyes. One of them she somewhat recognized, in fact she was sure she knew him, even with the white hair and closed eye. "Lorgar, is it? I don't think Catia would want to speak to a wanted man," Ena said, hands on her hips. Lucienus gave the girl a bright smile, as he gently put his gloved hands behind his back, and unkown to everyone else, a faint green light started to shown on his palm, which soon traveled to the woman silently and almost invisible. Though he continued to speak politely, his voice betrayed a dose of annoyance and scorn, "My dear, Colonel Grim-Maw is a very busy man, and has limited time. I do suggest you tell Catia a friend of her husband is here to see her, be a good lass now." Ena's sarcastic gaze dropped, replaced by one of calm acceptance of the orders. "Right this way gentlemen," she said cheerfully, leading the men up the stairs on the right. The spell being cast didn't go completely unnoticed, as in the corner sat a very nondescript Bosmer, Filin the Fox's bard, dressed in simple peasant clothes but paying careful attention to Lorgar and Lucienus. Once the men traveled up the stairs, he dropped his septims on the table and exited quickly, eager to share his news. "Sneaky." Lorgar muttered under his breath, and Luceinus gave him a mocking and sarcastic smile, "Well now, we didn't have to spill her blood out threw her neck, what an accomplishment, my lord." Lorgar dryly said "Don't joke like that." The girl lead the two men to Catia's office. Ena rapped on the door, which opened soon thereafter. "Ena, who is," Catia looked up and saw Lorgar, shock and fear crossing her face. "You shouldn't be here, do you know how much danger you've put us all in? Hurry in here, before someone sees you, if they haven't already." Catia led the men inside the office, while Ena, uncharacteristically cheerful, hummed her ways down the stairs. Lucienus whispered, "i'll watch from the shadows", which caused Lorgar to nod his head. The vampire disappeared in a flash of darkness. Lorgar entered the innkeepers office, before bowing his head. He spoke in a different tone than before, slightly warm, but controlled and calm, "Forgive me for intruding Catia, I have little time to explain. First off, I offer my sincerest thank you for taking care of Millernius for me, i've come to relieve you of her. I'm sending her to a safe location, a remote island known as Solsthiem, you may know of it." Catia sat down, massaging her left temple as the elbow on the same side arm rested on the chair's back. "You're welcome," she said, no kindness in her voice. "Just hurry, and please leave as quickly as possible. If it's found out I helped you in any way, this could fall back on Gracchus. Please, just get your wife and go," Catia said frantically, losing the little patience she had Before Lorgar could respond, Lucienus reappeared in the room, covered in blood with his sword drawn. He spoke in his usual, carefree voice, "My lord. It seems some peasant has alerted the Occultus. There marching to the fox as we speak" He shrugged "I think there's fifteen of them...well...fourteen now." Lorgar lost his composure, "Fifteen?!" Lucienis gave a "Meh" face, while he carefully wiped the blood of his drawn blade with a hankerchief. Lorgar hurriedly. got up "We need to get out of here now, where's Milly?"Lucienus eyed the sword, taking off ever drip of crimson, "Well, that might be difficult on her own. She is pregnant, after all." "Okay-WHAT?!!???" The nord practically yelled, his face filling with shock, he turned around to Catia, with a look of horror, "Millies pregnant?!" "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you not get the memo while you were fleeing charges of treason with this vampiric lunatic?" Catia said, rising as her blood boiled. Pointing hard to her right, she said, "Next room over. Get her and leave. I wish you would let her stay and not drag her under with you, but she is your wife." "Well that's nice of you-" Lorgar interrupted the "vampiric lunatic" in a harsh and commanding voice, "Captain. Head over to the roofops and snipe them, hit and run tactics. Delay the bastards with arrowfire as long as possible." Lucienus, crisply bowed before his commanding officer, while saying, "Yes my lord.", disappearing in a flash of darkness. Lorgar suddenly became very serious as he walked up to Catia, "Empress Dales has just been nearly assassinated twice, and General Tullius just got his head lopped off." He took a sealed letter and handed it to Catia, "Give this to your husband, do not let anyone read this. I recommend getting out of the imperial city as soon as you can." "I'll relay the message. Any other advice?" she seethed. In the tavern below, Filin had inconspicuously returned, completely unnoticed. He took up his flute and played a lighthearted jig, a few people even dancing, completely unaware of the trouble brewing over their heads. "Yeah, watch your back." In a sprint of in-human speed, Lorgar had gotten behind Catia in an instant, grabbing her in a headlock, and gently forced down a liquid into her throat, "Dont struggle, this is for you and your husbands benefit." Catia had little time to react, only managing to kick over the chair in her panic. Before succumbing to the potion, she thought of Gracchus, his name forming on her lips as she slipped into unconsciousness. Awoken by the yells, Lyra, Gracchus' mother, hobbled across the hall, blanket draped over her stopped shoulders, and knocked on the door. "Everything alright deary? I thought I heard yelling?" Lorgar said, in a kind and soft voice, "Help, Catias collapsed" Lorgar gently picked her up in his arms and rushed forward to the door Lyra didn't recognize the man, but seeing Catia's limo body spurred her to action. "This way, into my room," she said, leading Lorgar to the room across from Milly's. Lorgar had never seen this woman before,thankfully she had never seen lorgar, meaning she didn't know he was a wanted criminal.He followed the older woman to her room "Place her on the bed, please, and I'll go get some water," Lyra said, leaving the room and going further down the hall to get a pail of water. As the unknown woman left the room, lorgar gently layed catia's unconscious body on the spacious bed, and whispered into her ear, knowing she wasn't awake "I understand your fury, but heed my warning, the occultus wouldn't let you be unless I made you seem like a victim." And with that, he began to leave the room, opening the door which lead to the hallway Several Penatus Oculatus agents suddenly burst up the stairs, right as Lyra came back with the pail of water. "AHHHH!" she screamed, the men with swords scaring her witless. Her body became limo and fell to the ground, water spilling all over the floor as she did. A spectral arrow came bursting forth from the window, onto the three man fire team, exploding In a ball of frost and ice freezing the area around and turning it and the men into a frozen barricade. Lyra was unconscious, Catia unconscious, and Lorgar had a clean escape, once he grabbed his wife of course. He rushed forward and slammed the door to his wife's room open *** Across from the window the arrow entered through, Lucienus was holding a massive conjured bow on a rooftop, with the weapons color being a pale blue. It was a custom-made spell, a gift from an old friend. Instead of normal spectral arrows, it fired explosive freezing arrows, very useful for situations were crowd control was needed. Near the fox's entrance, a dozen or so Pentiulas Occultus agents waited, for word from there fireteam. Normally the Occultus would deploy a small group of agents separate of the main force to see if the area was secured, and would enter in tight and formal formation. They were highly team reliant, and mainly light infantry. Which means Hit and run tactics would only work for a small amount of time. Lucienus got up from his crouched position, he had the advantage. He had the high ground, and the rain and lack of light meant the Occultus's vision was strained. As mentioned, there were around a dozen or so of them, who most likely already called for reinforcements. As powerful as the vampire assassin was, his style of fighting and tactics was best suited for one on one engagements, along with small groups. Meaning he had to be very careful. Hit and Run tactics...arrowfire....so many opportunities. Small harassment should work. With a flick of his wrist, he disappeared in a cloud of shadows and reappeared on nearby rooftop right above the squad of soldiers. He reached into his coat, and pulled out a small vial of some sort of fine powder. Lucienus gave a sadistic smile. From time to time, you could see wandering magicians and minstrels practicing there "magic" to unsuspecting children, such as conjuring a flash of light. This was simply a clever trick, made possible by a powder made from void salts combined with fire salts. It was flashy. In his hands, Lucienus held the same powder, except it was ten times as more concentrated as the magicians trick. With a slight smile, he dropped the vial containing the volatile material, and turned away while casting a simple spell to protect his eyes. In the second the vile dropped onto the soldiers, the darkness was consumed by bright and painful light, and the area around was filled with screams. Many of the soldiers dropped to the ground, covering there eyes in pain and shock. Lucieuns laughed darkly, Next step. Elimination. The man disappeared from the rooftop. One of the agents , a muscular imperial had regained his eye sight but was still dazed, he lazily drew his Gladius while yelling out, "What in Oblivion." Unlike most of his comrades, he wasn't grounded. His eye sight spotted a dark figure inside the alleyway beside the accursed inn. He was smiling and waving at the man. The imperial furiously yelled, "Bastard", as he charged onward into the alleyway, ignoring his fallen comrades. As he entered further and further into the darkness, he suddenly remembered his training. Never go anywhere alone. Before the man could run back to his group, a steel blade was sticking out of his stomach, and a gloved hand was on his mouth, muffling his screams. Lucienus let the body drop once it felt limp and cold. He disappeared and reappeared on another roof, this time drawing from his back a real, physical bow. It was as black as the abyss, long, and strangely didn't have an arrow string. It was a relic passed down in his family for countless generation. He had received it from his father's lifeless corpse. At that thought, Lucienus gave a sad smile, before taking aim on the group, causing a bright flash of tang to lighten the dark. A spectral bowstring had formed, purple the very same color as Lucienus's true eyes, and a spectral arrow had taken it's place on the bow. Lorgar, hurry I can only cover you for so long.

Balgruuf, Irileth, Jon Noon Castle Bruma "Guardsman, come here, if you please," said the once Jarl of Whiterun. Even amongst Nords, in a place covered in snow, it couldn't be more apparent how out of place Count Balgruuf the Greater was in Castle Bruma. It was simply a way for him and Tullius to feel that he hadn't lost completely, not that he was in any real good terms with the now deceased Imperial General. It was a way to appease the small force of Nords who chose to stay with him. But a Nord knows a loss when he is dealt one. This was worse to him than simply being exiled. "Yes sir, Count Bal-" "It's Jarl. Jarl Balgruuf!" he protested. "Er, right. Sorry. Jarl Balgruuf. What was it that you wanted, sir?" asked the guard. "Have Irileth come see me. I'm waiting on a report on this General from her. She was sent on scout duty outside of the city and should have intercepted a courier by now. Move! Time is of the essence," said Balgruuf. The guard immediately ran off to do Balgruuf's bidding. *** "Move it, move it!" Jon shouted at the group. The Bruma was close, too close for his liking, but he needed to inform Hayn one way or another. If anyone deserved to be given a chance to live, it was him. Looking in the faces of his men, he saw that many of them turned their eyes away from him. He deserved as much. He was the one who brought this on them, thinking he'd find a much needed sympathizer in Miss Bathory. But instead she decided to support the pretenders of the Ruby Throne. Talos would have had their heads, if he hadn't left this world. "To arms!" As a few figures approached them from the flank, dressed in Legion armor, his men drew their weapons. "Halt!" Hard-Heart had to shout at the top of his voice. It was Hayn, and two others he presumed to be from his guard. He couldn't see their faces under the thick fur hoods. "Hayn! You're not imprisoned?" "I take it you failed then," Hayn didn't show any emotions and he walked up to him and shook his hand. He just stared at the White-Gold Tower in the distance. "Shame, but it was expected. Too many variables. Too many secrets and shadows. No place for the likes of us, Imperial Politics." "Yes, I failed. And Tullius is dead because of me. We're moving to Pale Pass, in hopes that the Stormcloaks will accept what remains of our forces into their ranks. Or become mercenaries. Former Legionnaires seem to be in high demand," Jon gave Hayn a quick smile, but grew serious. "I don't know their fates, but I've lost a good deal of my men already. If we can avoid hostilities with Bruma, I think we can make it to the Pass. If not, I hope they are wrong about Sovngarde only being for my people. It would be good seeing you again in the next life." "You'll die before you surrender?" "I bowed to one pretender on the Ruby Throne in my youth, but never again. The only King I'll honor now is the High King of Skyrim. Far from the White-Gold Tower, no Dragonborn Emperor is needed for the High Throne of the Nords." *** Irileth and a small detachment of Bruma guard had just come through the southern gate of the city and were climbing the hill towards the palace when the messenger met them. "Did he think I was sitting around in the tavern," the Dunmer grumbled as she heard Balgruuf's summons. She was in a testy mood. Not that this was unusual. "You men return to your duties. I need to report to the jarl at once." She proceeded on alone to the county hall and strode up to Balgruuf's chair, snow still clinging to her cloak and copper-colored hair. "My lord, I'm here to report. I intercepted the courier we were warned about, and sent him on his way. Then we followed him, and a good thing, too, since he wasn't alone. There are about three hundred or so armed men coming up the Silver Road, some in legion armor but with no colors. What are your orders?" "Three hundred?" Balgruuf sighed and put his chin on his fist as his other hand tapped the arm in his chair. "I told the White-Gold they should have sent more men! We only have seventy five guardsmen for the city. Then the Imperial legion only sent us one hundred fifty when this Jon man started raising trouble. Where is the Legion? Jon had more men last I heard. Did he leave men behind to hold them back while he retreated?" "I don't know, but if these malcontents attack us, it will be the last thing they ever do. Shall I send archers to the walls?" "No, they won't make a move for the city. They can't take Bruma with three hundred men. Not with these walls. Any General worth his salt would know that." Balgruuf stood up out of his chair and started to pace. "No, if he wanted Bruma, he'd have done what Ulfric did and deliver an ultimatum. Ulfric....seems like no matter where I go, I'm forced to deal with rebelling Nords." "The Nords have always made trouble, my lord, just not for the empire," Irileth pointed out dryly. "They can't take the city, but we must be alert to sabotage from within. We don't know if this general has supporters in Bruma already." "What can he really do? Before, he was a threat when he first came here with an army under his control, but now? He's coming near my city with only three hundred men? If you ask me, I don't think he's got Bruma under concern." Balgruuf walked back to his chair and stood in front of it. He ran a hand over it, looking at the Cyrodiilic design and once again cursing the gods for putting him here. The chair's fabric was Bruma yellow, similar to Whiterun's guard colors. Fitting, but still not Whiterun. Something in his mind constantly and something he'd never forget. "If you ask me, I say he's trying to get to the Pass. It's the only reason why he'd still be coming here with so few men. He'd have to know I wouldn't be convinced to join his side with such a small force. And we know the Legion was sent after him. This is an act of desperation. So really, it's no longer Bruma's problem and therefore not mine. But...." *** "Hayn, Hard-Heart wants to see you." Jon had sent one of his soldiers to the rear guard. An hour or so had passed since Hayn returned to the group and they neared Bruma with each step. Sooner or later, they'd have to pass by the city walls. Before long the familiar disfigured face was besides him. "I need you to return to the city, with a message. If need be, I'll be willing to meet with the Count to establish that I'm not interested in Bruma as of now." "Yes, Sir." The Imperial nodded, but didn't otherwise look at him. Something new was in his tone, but he couldn't place what it was. *** "Then let Ulfric Stormcloak deal with them." The Dunmer spat out the name." He ought to be pleased with more trouble for the empire." "No, Irileth! We can't just let him walk by. We do that and we'll be sending a message to everyone in the Empire and beyond that you can just rebel any time you want and get away with it. Skyrim was bad enough. But if we let Jon's men get away, it'll be worse. The Thalmor could get wind of it and see just how bad things are starting to get around here." Balgruuf turned around now and faced his loyal House Carl. "We don't want more trouble for the Empire. Trouble for the Empire is trouble for us. So, it's up to us to do something about it." The Dunmer drew an impatient sigh. "You said yourself we don't have enough men except to defend the city. You aren't thinking of going out there, are you?" "We don't, true. Not in a head on confrontation. But we won't fight them head on. The Legion sent us men and I intend to use them. I want you to to send the word around the city. All those who once called themselves Sons of Whiterun are to take up militia duties once again and guard the city. In the meantime, I will take Seventy of our guard up to the path to Dragonclaw Rock. I'll see if I can't get this man to stand down. He outnumbers us, but he'll have to go uphill. While I'm there, you have the other Legion soldiers waiting on standby and you watch on horseback from a distance. If he doesn't listen, you give the order to send our soldiers in from behind. Maybe we get lucky and the rest of the Legion catches up. If not, we'll force his men to surrender with what we have." "My lord, you should let me handle this. With Cyrodiil in such chaos, we can't afford to lose you." Balgruuf stubbornly shook his head and said, "I think you already know what my answer to that is. If there's any hope of convincing this Jon to stand down, it needs to be man to man, Nord to Nord. Now go, before we miss our chance to act." Irileth scowled, especially at the notion that a Dunmer woman might not be as effective in negotiation, but she knew he was right. "Exiled and a treaty in place and we are still dealing with rebellious Nords. Very well, my jarl. I will do as you say." She hurried off to carry out his commands, giving orders to the castle guard to protect Balgruuf with their lives. *** "Hayn?" Jon looked at the figure that approached them. It was too soon for him to return, and he was followed by someone else. They seemed to know each other. Why was he back already? "Jon! We're walking into an ambush!" "What!?" Hayn and the stranger came closer, heavy of breath. The stranger looked like a hunter of sorts, and was somehow familiar to him. Where had he seen him before? "Tell him what you saw," Hayn looked at the hunter. "Yes, sir... um," the hunter looked nervous for a moment, looking at the commander of the forces. "I saw Legionnaires move north, along the road... um... I was just about to return from the hunt when I came across Hayn here and... well... I thought I owed you that much..." "You owed us?" Jon stared into his eyes, trying to place where he had seen the man before. "Yes, sir... um... you let me stay in your camp in the mountains, when the Justicars came lookin' for me. I figured I owed you for saving my life." Of course, he remembered the man now. Talos worshiper, escaped by the hair from the Thalmor, but with nowhere to go. Jon nodded and looked to the mountains in the north. "I'm assuming the stone monolit before Pale Pass. The best place for an ambush in these parts, but very close to the Skyrim border. Balgruuf must be desperate to stop us. But there is nothing e can do about that ambush now. Our path has been chosen. Spread the word, that we must be prepared for an attack from the flanks as soon as we near the monolit. From there we move slowly and with as much caution as we can." *** Balgruuf was fast approaching the famous Dragonclaw land mark, with only his guard at his back. He was thinking now, that maybe he should have mixed the units with Legion, since Jon would likely know they had some. It may lead him to smelling the ambush. Although, he figured he'd probably somehow suspect one anyway. Once the seventy guardsmen got in place, Balgruuf turned to see their faces. Most were uneasy looking, as they got the gyst of the situation. Balgruuf was sure part of it was because he was leading them, and he was no general. That and he hadn't fought in some time. Not while leading men. The Falkreath fight hadn't required much of that from him. Balgruuf laughed to himself, recalling stories from the soldiers who said he fought with two greatswords when he was really just carrying one as spoils of war back to the camp. He carried with him now a steel sword and shield to go with his old steel plate armor. The same one Ulfric and his cronies defeated him in and took away his honor. Balgruuf wondered now if he was truly doing this for the good of Bruma and the Empire, or was he doing this to somehow in his mind get back at Ulfric in the closest way he could... *** Drawing nearer Dragonclaw Rock, Jon let out a laugh. From the look of it, none other than the Count himself had shown up. And if the Count himself showed up at this time, the attack wouldn't start before they had shared words. To his left, Hayn started to laugh as well, followed by the other officers. The deep roaring of laughter from the informal leader of the Orcish troops he had left drummed in his ears. For the guardsmen, it must have been a sight that induced both fear and hope. Fear for going up against the many Legion veterans before them, and hope that they thought the ambush hadn't been detected. Jon's group continued to advance on their positions, reorganizing itself. The group of Orcs left, maybe 15 or so, centered itself around Jon. "Remember," said Garak, the Orc leader, to Jon. "An Orc follows the strong and those are followed to the death. Malacath will be pleased with the ones following you, dead or alive." "It is a shame Sovngarde is not open to your kind, Garak, I would have been honored to see you there." "And a shame Malacath wouldn't allow you to us!" The group countinued to near Balgruuf and his men, eventually stopping maybe fifty meters or so in front of them, positioning themselves to prepare for an attack from any side. Jon walked a few meters out from the group, hoping it would give Balgruuf the signal that he was willing to talk. Balgruuf didn't change his facial expression when he heard the laughter. Neither had his men. As Balgruuf stood in front of his men, suddenly Balgruuf shouted so Jon could hear, "You know what's the real joke is that you think you're getting past that border." Jon just rubbed the ridge of his nose at the comment Balgruuf made, waving for the Count to walk out to him, and the the laughter started to die down, and murmuring started to take its place. Questions about the Count being a coward was one of the things Jon did hear, from where he stood. Irileth sat ahorse on a cliff overlooking the rebel troops' flank. Most of her men were concealed in the rocks behind her, though she had set a few of their archers and battlemages on the cliffs. At the laughter, she shook her head. "Damn arrogant bastards. No wonder the empire discarded these." She kept her eye on Balgruuf's banner and the jarl himself. Anyone made a move to strike at him, and they'd be the first to go down. "Well?" asked Balgruuf. "Do you wish to speak or not?" "Not with all your guards around," Jon shouted at him, rolling his eyes. "Come out and meet be in the middle, like any reasonably civilized man would. Don't want your men to tell the story of how you couldn't even muster the courage to do that, do you?" The voices carrying up to her on the cliff, Irileth shook her head again and grumbled about Nord stubbornness, then ordered the archers near her to ready arrows and take aim at Jon and the orc who appeared to be his second. "No one fire unless on my orders," she said sternly. "Why? You and all the rest can hear me just fine. Or is it that you don't want your men to hear what I have to say?" Now Balgruuf did step forward, but not close to Jon, just enough to be clearly seen. He kept his shield hand ready to raise in case someone tried anything. "Why do you men fight?" Jon rolled his eyes again and walked out to the middle, where he had requested Balgruuf to meet him. Again he shouted. "Why are you afraid to show common civility?" Balgruff shook his head and said, "I asked you a question. Why are you and your men fighting? I have words with all of you, not just you. So address me in front of your men! Is it because you seeked power? Is that it? Or is it that you were just upset that a twenty year old girl in pink frills did something that you yourself did not? You think you're special for not fighting? Think that the Nords of Skyrim will give a damn that you hid on some mountain while others waged war?" "I think I'd like to do this conversation without having to shout everything I say, but if you want to address me in front of my men, I can order them to come closer. But perhaps you should think about what I have to say that might not be good for your own troops to hear, before you jump to conclusions." "What, is the cold air too much for you? Too hard on your lungs to speak out? Fine, since your commander won't answer my questions, then how about you?" Balgruuf started pointing his finger to the soldiers behind Jon. "Or you perhaps? Why are you fighting? I can't speak of the Orcs and other races among you, but the Nords...when you die and go to Sovngarde, what will you tell Ysgramor when he asks what you fought for? To help a General sate his ego? Is that something you can boast about? For eternity? Stand down and live to face the true enemy. The Thalmor!" "I don't think you're going to get more of an answer from them, Count. These people, as I, don't find your insults anything more than humorous, given its source. Risking the guardsmen of the city, just to sate your own vanity and anger about being driven from Whiterun. At least my men know why they are here and have followed me willingly." Garak and the other orcs started to move up to Jon, weapons sheathed to signal that they didn't intend to attack, just walk up to their commander. Hayn stayed behind, continuing to make sure their shield wall was ready for deployment if it came to it. Luckily a lot of Jon's troops wore the heavy uniform. Balgruuf said, "You can have the pot call the kettle black all you wish, but I don't think your men do know why they are fighting. Not really. I don't know what lies you've told them or yourself, but whatever the case may be, this is a hopeless endeavor. You used to have much more men than this. Where are they now? I suspect the Legion took care of most, right? I'd guess that they're on their way as we speak. You don't know the current politics as they stand, but I do. Skyrim is not letting large bodies of soldiers over their borders. Even if you disarmed yourselves, they'd have to send word to Ulfric first. Even if he said yes, your men won't get the go ahead in time. By then...you'll already be dead. At best, you'd get one man over while the rest are left to die for no reason whatsoever!" As the orcs began to move, Irileth considered having an archer fire a warning shot, but decided against it. The stand-off was too tense, and she had seen before how such things could get out of hand. They must know they were covered anyway. For now, she watched and listened. "Then I'm wondering why you are out here, throwing away the lives of your own men for a pointless exercise of trying to balm your wounded pride," Garak shouted. "If fighting the Thalmor is so important to you, you wouldn't be out here risking your own life. This is about you and only about you." Jon threw a glance at the orc, but didn't comment on what he had said. Instead he addressed Balgruuf again. "If you think the true enemy is the Thalmor, you're better off letting us pass. Fighting us won't do anyone any good. More likely, we'd both die in the fight, and so would most people here, even the ones hiding." Balgruuf paused for a moment, then looked around to his men. After a few moments, he cursed, then started to pase forward to Jon's position. "Sir, what are you doing?" said one of the guards. "Stand down and stay where you are!" Balgruuf shouted. As he walked towards Jon by himself, he sheathed his sword and continued to speak, stopping just close enough to see his eyes, but far enough not to be within striking range. If he needed to run, he could. Irileth's arrows would be enough to allow him to get back to his men. "I am out here risking my neck and men's lives, because I wish to prevent bloodshed, not cause it. I want you to stop this madness, and reconsider. Look at what this is all doing. It's only making us weaker for the Thalmor and its for no good reason at all. Skyrim is independent, Cyrodiil is allied, and we're trying to focus on the Thalmor. We need all hands on deck for this war! Please, don't let this...foolishness be your legacy. Ulfric was a rebel, but he was a rebel with a plan and a cause. You have neither." "Bah," before Jon could say something, Garak spoke again. "You just want to make up for your past mistakes with what you do here, because you don't want your own legacy to be that of the leader who never made a decision before he was forced to. You talk of not wasting men, but here you are, wasting them on your own vanity. For your own sake, I hope you never have to see Sovngarde, knowing that you have to justify your weakness and indecisiveness at Whiterun and the foolishness you show now to your ancestors!" Jon threw another glance at the orc, looking a bit surprised at him, before taking his turn to respond to Balgruuf. "If you think so, you're as blind as they say you were. I had hoped that the stories they told about you were false, but apparently they weren't all false at least. Tell me, did you side against Ulfric because you were at odds with him? I don't know the specifics, but I've heard rumors of him being trained by the Greybeards were a part of it." He paused for a moment, but didn't allow him to answer before he continued. "The White-Gold is failing, through centuries of inaction and allowing pretenders on the Ruby Throne. I'm a general and a warrior, but not uneducated on history. I returned to the city to try to do something about it, and I failed. So now I'm going to one of the only people left worth following. If you want to prevent bloodshed, you'll stand down and let me pass, for I'll be damned before I put my trust in the White-Gold again." "I'll be honest with you, Jon. When I marched my men up there to meet you, those same questions came into my head as well. I wondered myself if I was just trying to save face, but you know what? If I were in that same position, I'd do exactly what I did before. I may not have let the legion in my city, but I deployed guards to fight Ulfric's men. I made a choice. My biggest mistake was saying I didn't take a side when I know good and well I did. That's my mistake, and I can't take it back. Perhaps if I fully committed sooner, I wouldn't be here having this conversation with you. But what matters is in the end I did make a stand. Just as I am doing now. The White-Gold is in rough shape, and has been for a while, but rebelling against it when you had no real chance of changing anything isn't helping anyone. Neither is this. If I let you pass, all that would happen is you would be slaughtered at that Skyrim border wall. If you surrender, you have a chance to help us. You wonder why I am standing here with my men ready to risk their lives? To be honest, its because I'm not entirely sure the Legion is coming. And if not, then it's up to me to stop you and send a message to any other would be rebellers. Just stand down, and let your men do some good. This is the last time I'll ask." "Then you'll better run, little man," Garak, again, took the word before Jon did. Talkative fella that one, Jon had to admit. Much more than most Orcs he knew. "Because fighting for the White-Gold isn't something I'd place on the list of doing good. If you won't stand down, you'd better have an answer for your ancestors." "Garak is right, I fear," Jon continued, calmly to let Balgruuf know that he wouldn't attack before necessary. "Supporting the Empire doesn't do any good. It is time it was allowed to follow their True Emperors to the afterlife. This... necromantic continuation has gone on long enough and isn't doing anyone any good, least of all Cyrodiil. So let me pass, or draw your blade. We might lose this fight, with your ambush and all, but not before we overwhelm your entourage. Is this really worth dying for? A crumbling Empire, not even worthy of such a name?" Three of the Orcs started to walk back to the others. They knew what they had to do; pass on to Hayn that if it came to fighting, their main objective was to storm the count's guards, preferably managing to take him a hostage to make the ambush stop. If it was led by his Housecarl, she'd have to allow them to leave or fail her duties to protect him. If. "Heh, think it will be that easy, do you? There's a reason we took our spot up hill. My other men will have time to group up with me. But you're right. You will lose. It isn't the White Gold we fight for. It's the people of Tamriel. If the Empire falls, it won't be because of the Thalmor." Now that the words were exchanged, and everything was said that needed to be said, Balgruuf walked back the way he came. From their position on the ridge, Irileth's captain muttered aside, "Are you hearing this, Irileth?" "Yes," the Dunmer answered drily. "Defeatist nonsense. They won't fight for the empire, but won't fight against them either. No wonder they ran to the mountains and hid while the rest of us stood up to Ulfric." The captain shifted, reset his arrow and took aim again. "Just say the word, Housecarl." "Not yet. But when you fire, aim for that loudmouth orc first." Well, no one can say I didn't try for peace. At this point, these men are simply fighting to save face. Heh, I'm still not convinced neither am I. One way or another, I won't have people saying I didn't do my part to quell another rebellion. Especially one with no cause. Once Balgruuf was satisfied that Jon and his men weren't going to surrender, Balgruuf started to make preparations. "Wedge!" he called out. The men immediately organized into a wedge shape, one, to better repel Jon's men as they came, and so that the men on the sides could act as a new front line to charge to the left or right in case they needed to run to a different location. Jon's men immediately charged forward with his order, so that they wouldn't be too prepared for their advance. As promised, they made a mad dash straight for them to try and overtake the group quickly. As they ran towards them, kicking up snow, Balgruuf gave a loud whistle, giving Irileth her signal to fire. "Fire!" Irileth called, even before the whistle. The writing had been on the wall, and she didn't want even the remotest chance that a stray arrow would hit Balgruuf because they waited too long. The first volley sailed down the canyon, cutting into the ranks of the orcs and the first line surrounding Jon. They may have been heavily armored, but the longbowmen were fitted for that, and their first volley was of high-quality glass, ebony and even dragonbone arrows. Irileth had known that they would have a small window to do a lot of damage and demoralize the rebels. She didn't wait to see what the damage was, already wheeling her horse around to charge down into the flank with her infantry. The captain would command the archers and battlemages on the cliffs. The latter began raining fireballs and shock spells down on the troops massed in the path. As always, the way things happen in battle so quickly always surprised Balgruuf. He didn't even have time to think before the arrows on Jon's men started raining. Some of them raised their shields, but Balgruuf's men along with him charged down the hill, making them choose between arrows or swords. Balgruuf saw an arrow hit Jon's neck, but it went down through the shoulder. It made him stumble, and made the initial charge less forceful, especially since they had to go uphill in snow, but Jon gave the command for them to keep fighting. Now it was Balgruuf's men who were fighting to get to him, and Jon's men were the ones fighting to protect. Balgruuf was breathing heavily as he struggled to push back an orc, their breaths colliding heavily with each other in their faces. Balgruuf's Nord blood made it easier to exert himself in the cold, but the Orc had natural fortitude and was of a younger age. Still, the orc was no match for Balgruuf's heavy weight from uphill falling on the Orc's knee when he kicked downwards with his steel plated foot. The Orc stumbled back, only to be replaced with another one, who protected his injured friend, only to receive a blade on his face from one of Balgruuf's men next to him. Eventually the rebel forces were pushed back, and they were forced to drag Jon back and form a circle around him. But not before trying to surround Balgruuf's smaller force and trap him. Balgruuf saw the red line in the snow leading to Jon, but he couldn't let himself be trapped. "Right side, form the new front line! Push our way to Irileth!" Irileth and her troops slammed into the flank, and Nord war cries sounded out on both sides as the men met in a roil of battle. Above her the archers were forced to slow their fire to aim more carefully as the two forces mixed. From her horse, the Dunmer housecarl slashed down with sword, cutting away men on either side of her as she fought her way towards Balgruuf. The rear guard would take care of itself, and she was desperate to get to the jarl and fight beside him even if it was for one last time. The heavy-armored front guard of Jon's men stood in her way. Pulling her horse around, she sheathed her sword and began casting lightning spells into their backs. On the cliffs above, the captain commanding the archers saw movement in the cliffs across the valley. Concerned that there might have been rebels hiding in the hills, he pulled out a spyglass to see what they were about. "Those are Sons of Whiterun," he shouted. "Sons of Whiterun on the other side of the path, don't fire on them." Some of them had apparently disobeyed orders to stay behind in the city, unwilling to leave Balgruuf's side in a fight. They had all survived together in the Skyrim wilderness too long. The captain watched through his glass, and laughed when he realized what they were doing. Balgruuf had further to go, now being on the side flank instead of the front, to fight their way to the main force. While they were fighting through, a rebel Nord caught him on his shoulder with a steel hammer, denting his shoulder plate and possibly breaking a bone in the process. When that happened, his men quickly flooded in to push them back, and Balgruuf out of anger rushed forward and slashed his attacker across the face before his men forcibly pulled him away. During that tussle, Balgruuf saw Irileth stubbornly fighting her way through the men and casting lightning. He wondered if she cast a calm spell on the horse or something to get it to push through that way, but whatever the case was, it was as stubborn as she was. Her body standing over the others gave them a destination to fight to, but it also gave the enemy a target. Before he had a chance to call out her name, he suddenly heard a loud thunderous noise and rumbling come from his left. From the cliffs, he saw large snow covered boulders tumbling their way into Jon's ranks from behind. He heard calls of the Sons of Whiterun echo from beyond, and his guards cheered as they watched Jon's rear get flattened. Irileth had been so focused on getting through to Balgruuf that her luck ran out. An orc fighter saw his chance and charged her horse from behind, slashing at her leg with his axe. In one confused moment there was a crash of boulders into the rear, the horse reared and leaped forward, and the Dunmer housecarl fell into a press of shouting men. Some of her own men seeing her go down rushed forward to try to reach her, but she had advanced too far and there were too many enemies in between. A moment later, Irileth re-appeared again, her rage causing her to fall into her native idioms. "FILTHY N'WAH!" she shouted, sword in one hand and shock spells still coursing out from the other. Blood oozed down her leg and from a gash in her head from the fall, but she ignored it until her opponent and several of his friends nearby were dead. Then the housecarl's long experience of battle re-asserted itself and she paused to assess what was happening. Balgruuf was still on his feet up on the slope, but the rebellious general and the orc leader were not. The avalanche had caused confusion in the rear. Men were still fighting for their lives, but there was no fire in it. Across the narrow valley there was a hesitation like a sigh. Recognizing the moment for what it was, Irileth cast an alteration spell to carry her voice and began shouting. "Followers of Jon Hard-Heart! Your leader is dead!" The housecarl didn't actually know if Hard-Heart was dead, but she was a Dunmer and had no qualms using deception at a decisive moment in a battle. "Lay down your weapons and your lives will be spared! Why are you fighting? You are Nords, brothers! Lay down your weapons and live to fight your real enemy!" Breath held, she paused to see if her words were having any effect. Jon was on the ground, barely alive, but alive enough to hear Irileth's words. He tried to speak up, but the combination of the wound and the chaos of the fight, kept him from being heard. When the others heard her, some of the rebels ceased in their attacking, although a few continued. Without Jon to tell them otherwise, a lot of them took Irileth's words to be true. The effect was that some of the men dropped their weapons and stepped away from the fighting, while others continued on. Balgruuf's men pushed them back along with the Legion soldiers. Some of Jon's men dropped their weapons again, finally losing their stubborn attitudes while others were needlessly slaughtered. It was now that Jon opened his eyes, hearing failing as he looked up to watch the snow fall on his face, contemplating what indeed would he tell Ysgramor when he went to Sovngarde and was asked why he fought, when Thalmor threatened his ancient land. Before he could think of the rebuttal, which in his mind he knew was as weak as he claimed the Empire's leaders were, a wave of Legion and Bruma soldiers started running across his vision. They were charging, unaware that he was there. A few men stepped over him, and he wondered if they'd ever recognize it was him. As thoughts of escape to the border ran through his head, a Bruma soldier finally looked down on him, his expression surprised, then soon turned to anger as he realized who he was. No more than a few seconds passed from him fantasizing of escape before a standard issue Cyrodiil styled steel blade sunk into his neck to make Irileth's words true, finally ending Jon and his rebellion for good. Eventually, Balgruuf's soldiers slaughtered the last of the men who still fought. A fourth of Jon's men had given up, while the rest were killed. Balgruuf lost almost half of his guard and thirty legionnaires. But the battle was over, as quickly as it started. Smiling now, Balgruuf took a knee, then fell on his side, as his adrenaline left him to the pain in his left shoulder. Seeing men still fighting, Irileth cursed Nord stubbornness once again and resumed her determination to get to Balgruuf's side. She was wounded, but so were a lot of the enemies she passed, and some of them threw down their weapons at first taste of her shock spell. At last she found the jarl, down and gasping in pain, but alive. Her own adrenaline still coursing, she knelt beside him. "My lord... are you... well..." Before he could answer, another sound echoed against the mountainsides, carried on the harsh Jeralls winds- the sound of legion trumpets coming up from the south. Irileth looked up at the sound. "Finally." That was the only word she could manage, but the meaning was clear. Reinforcements from the Imperial City had arrived, too late to do anything but mop up. "Well, that seems to be the norm...as of late," he said, referring to their tardiness of course. Balgruuf forced himself to stand, leaving his weapons on the ground while he tried to get his dented armor piece from his shoulder. Two of his men came up to assist, but he shooed them off, so he could do it himself. Balgruuf waited for the Legion to finally reach their position. A female General was in the front, trying to look tough from the look of her, which wasn't that hard from the size of her. "These men have surrendered. They're all that remains of Jon's men," said Balgruuf. "Who gave you orders to interfere?" she asked. "I did, since you people took your sweet time getting here. I don't know whether the Stormcloaks would have really let him over or not, but my men's actions made sure that question never needed answering." "Hmph, you risked your life for nothing. We'd have caught up and ended him just fine." "Really? If he reached the cave leading to Pale Pass, I doubt it. His men can hold you back in there for days. Meanwhile, he'd already be in Skyrim. In any case, he's dead. I need some of your men for my city until I replace them with new guards. And I'll need your help bringing in our dead whilst my men recover. Is that going to be a problem?" "No," she said, clearly not happy having to take orders from Balgruuf. But she had to admit he was right. "What are you going to do with the prisoners?" he asked. "Let them go to Skyrim?" "After all this, they're lucky we don't send them to the block. Instead, they'll be forced to rejoin the Legion and split up. That's that." Balgruuf looked back to Jon's men, who now looked lost. He shook his head then nodded to the General before walking off. "Alright, Bruma guards, back to the city. Irileth, lets go." "Yes, my jarl." The Dunmer limped along behind him. When one of the guards offered his arm, she hesitated but grudgingly accepted his help. Balgruuf and the men walked back to the city in silence, until finally, they reached the city gates. As the men walked to either the guard barracks or the infirmary, Balgruuf ordered the soldier helping Irileth to go. "Go rest with the others. I'll take her to the infirmary." "Sir, aren't you injured too?" "I'm better off than her. Now go." As the man walked off reluctantly, Balgruuf looped one of the Dunmer's arms around his shoulder on the uninjured side and continued their walk through the city to the castle. "What the hell were you thinking back there, Irileth?" "Thinking I needed to save your ass," she answered, wincing. "Heh, well it's like I always tell you. I had everything under control. Sometimes I wonder if you think I'm the same age as my children," he said. "Long habit." They had reached the infirmary, where more wounded were being brought in. "Just let me sit down. I can heal myself if I get a bit of rest. And heal you." "Alright, you know where to find me. My shoulder can wait till then. In the mean time I have a city to run. And...thanks. Irileth. Not just for this, but for staying with me even after exile. You're a true friend." The Dunmer gave a grim smile. "What else would I have to worry about?" She then turned and spoke sternly to the other guard that had accompanied them. "I expect you to keep a close eye on him while I'm mending." Balgruuf saw as the guard's face grew stern and he saluted her before turning to him, staring intensely. He didn't know what sort of training she put the men through, but apparently when she gave the order to keep a close eye, she meant it. Balgruuf chuckled to himself lightly before turning to walk away. "Heal up soon, Irileth. That's an order."

Lorgar Grim-Maw, Lucienus, Imperial City Evening, Lorgar watched in silence the activity in the imperial city, looking at the civilians living there normal lives. He had once truly considered retiring and settling down with Milly, thinking back to it, Lorgar had laughed at the prospect of that, Normal life wasn't for him, killing was the only thing he excelled at, the thing he had done his entire life. Stopping now seemed impossible, settling down seemed impossible. Even being raised as a skaal by his uncle, the thing he looked forward to most was the next battle. Even after regaining myself, the only that fills me is the act of bloodshed. Violence is my virtue, as is death. "I'm surprised you went through with it." Lorgar knew that dark, and somewhat mocking voice, he didn't even bother to turn his head around. "A wolf doesn't feel anything for the elk it kills does it?" The voice chuckled, "No it doesn't. Though I wonder what it would feel if it killed the niece of its closest friend?" Lorgar responded, "Nothing, The wolf merely defended itself. In fact it gave its prey a chance to live, in which it refused." The voice chucked again. From the shadows of the rooftop entered a man in a dark long coat, he had dark brown hair, which appeared almost black. His eyes were a sickly grey, and his skin was as pale as snow. Lorgar nodded at him, while the dark man knelt, "My lord..." "Luicenus." A twisted smile was on the ancient vampires lips, as he got up from his kneeling position. He walked toward his commanding officer carrying a large black longcoat, similar to his own. He said apologetically, “I put in an order for a custom-made armor set for you, young master, unfortunately it's not ready yet, I’m afraid you'll have to make due with a longcoat." Lorgar waved his hand, as he let the imperial put the black long coat onto him, which had a bloodwolf service badge attached to the left shoulder. Lorgar let out a slight sigh, as Lucienus stepped backward. The dark man smirked, as he said in a polite voice, “Something troubling you?†Lorgar eyed him with his red orb of an eye, before shaking his head, “Nothing Captain. Give me a sitrep on our forces in the imperial city.†Lucienus nodded “All Bloodwolf personnel, except you and I, are heading to the muster point, including the three squads which you stationed here.†Lorgar simply said “goodâ€, as he began to slowly climb off the roof using a ladder, as his feet hit the ground, he noticed Lucienus standing a few paces away from him. Lorgar ignored that as he began to walk through the dreary streets, with Lucienus following close behind. The rain was falling down heavily, as the two men went through the market district. Lorgar asked his companion, “What’s the situation in the White-gold?†Lucienus responded, “Empress Moitre has suffered two assassination attempts, during the second she was put into a coma.†Lorgar’s eye brows raised, “How did you come across this information?†Lucienus said quietly, as the rain fell onto his exposed head “I have sources, reliable ones.†He turned around as if to scan for any onlookers, “If the Elder council is wise, they’ll make there move now. Empress Dales is in a very vulnerable position.†Lorgar snorted, “I doubt any of them are aware. There most likely saying she’s merely ill.†Lucienus nodded, “No doubt. They’ll start becoming suspicious though, and it’s bound to leak to the public sooner or later. This will be looked down upon.†Lorgar’s steps were muffled under the sound of the pouring rain, “Not my problem and I care little. I own nothing to the empire, as I own nothing to that puppet.†He continued, “Regardless, I need to talk to you about Milly-†Lucienus interrupted him, “I’ve arranged passage for Lady Quentas to Raven rock on an East Empire Ship. Don’t worry; I made sure her living quarters were decent, if not luxury.†Lorgar responded “Excellentâ€. Lucienus yawed “I presume were picking her up right now?†“Correct†Lorgar walked, with sound of rain in the background. The man silently muttered, "Cigar." Lucienus reached into his coat pocket, and drew out the tobacco filled product, but to Lorgar's dismay it was a cigarette, Lorgar groaned, as Lucienuis placed it in his mouth, and lightly conjured a speck of fire from his right hand, gently lighting the cigarette. Lorgar inhaled a long and deep breath of the fumes, Lucienus snorted, "You are aware of how bad those are for your lungs?" The nord shrugged in response, and countered by saying "Why are you carrying cigarettes?" Lucienus sighed in annoyance, "Cigars are too expensive, my lord, you'll have to make do with those from now on."

Tacitus Topal Sea Midday The Imperial flotilla sailed with the wind, a steady breeze going north to south, on this calm afternoon. Nature and the currents spurring the ships along at a quick pace. Blissful was the only way to describe the setting, even with the small armadas directive in mind, Tacitus thought it serene. He longed for these moments, him, a ship, and the sea. Both fortunately and unfortunately, the masts of the Altmer ships broke over the horizon. Instantly the High Admiral snapped to attention, shifting his focus away from the sea and to the enemy. The Thalmor cargo ship ran heavy with gold, silver, wool and food, all headed for Elsweyr. Similar to the last ship the flotilla came upon, this one too had a cutter escort. The large cog lumbered over the waves, while the agile cutter danced ahead to draw the fire of the Imperials away from the merchant ship. Tacitus ordered the three galleys that accompanied him to tear off for cutter. The rowers pushed and pulled, heaving their ships away from the group. The escort ship had little choice but to try and forestall the ships after it, knowing the more numerous Imperials had the advantage. That battle was very one sided, both sides exchanging arrow fire before one galley landed its ram on the cutter's starboard side. The Altmer sailors scrambled around like ants, hopelessly trying to survive. As the ship sank into the depths, the Imperials ships went about collecting any survivors they could find. Who knew what one sailor might have overheard, and the Penitus Oculatus was sure to want to question them. Through his spyglass, Tacitus watched the cog's crew arm themselves, with everything from brooms to swords. The captain obviously thought his ship was fast enough to escape the trio of Imperial ships after him, but was sorely mistaken. After a few minutes of chase, the dromons ran the ship down, and pulled alongside the cog. Tacitus, on the caravel slightly trailing, yelled with his magically aided voice, "Surrender or die!" The ominous message was not lost on the cargo ship's crew, as several could be seen yelling and arguing amongst themselves. The cog never faltered, however, so Tacitus had little choice but to try and take the vessel. Boarding another vessel at sea was dangerous, even on a calm day. Grappling hooks were an option, but if one ship sank the other could go down with it. Thankfully, Imperial engineers developed a specific tool for the task. Mounted on the a bow of each dromon was a bridge with a large iron spike on the bottom. After the dromons had maneuvered around to assault the cog, the bridge was dropped and the spike impaled itself onto the merchant ship's deck, giving easy access to the Imperial marines. In a futile effort, the Altmer crew made the first move, attacking the marines with sword, broom, and fist. Blood covered the deck, mixing with seawater causing people to slip and slide. Tacitus had already begun boarding a rowboat to inspect the cog himself, and hadn't even left by the time it was over. Several of the Altmer had surrendered, choosing to forgo the fate so many of their brethren had followed. Tacitus, vest in bottomed and face scruffy, looked nothing like one would expect from an admiral, which is what he wanted. Pompous, haughty fools. Let them know that this disheveled mere man bested them on this day. Us, inferior beings, fighting on their turf at sea, won this battle, and decisively so, Tacitus thought happily. It may have been wrong to add insult to injury, but these people aided the Thalmor, whether it was forced or not mattered little. Tacitus had moved past the prisoners, the captain not among them, and into said captain's quarters. A simple bed and desk took up most of the room, the rest a chest occupied. "Take that back to my ship, I'll have a look at it later," he ordered the men following him like ducklings. The drawers and beneath the bed held nothing, so Tacitus moved into the cargo hold to inspect his booty. Bales of cotton stacked deck to ceiling took up the left side of the hold, while chests and barrels filled the rest. Water slowly seeped in the front of the ship, where the dromons ram still stuck in the side. So long as it didn't pull out the ship would stay afloat, albeit not for long. The moving crew knew this and hurried along, hoisting barrels to the top deck to move them over. As his blond hair reached the sunlight once more, the galleys had arrived, leaving the wreckage of the cutter still floating on the water. A messenger from their captains approached, his face filled with both eagerness at the battle but horror at the blood on the deck. "Sir, we took seven captives, non high priority. Shall we transfer them to your ship?" As had been custom, the admiral was supposed to question the captives first, but Tacitus found no joy in it and hadn't done it since his appointment. He figured he had to this time though, intuition telling him he needed to. "Yes, I suppose I must take care of that nonsense. See you're captain is congratulated," he said gruffly, before he remounted the skiff and was rowed back to the Tempest. ** Tacitus spent most of the day evaluating losses and damages, which were both few. One galley lost some oars when it scrapped the cutter, and the dromons bridge spike had someone embedded itself in the cog, so that would have to be replaced. Casualties were low, the arrows being the only form of injury. Only two men ha died, one from the cutters arrows and another from the cogs. After that was over, Tacitus moved to his quarters at the rear of the ship. Much to his surprise, the chest from earlier was waiting for him. He had forgotten completely about it, but was now eager to open it. After grabbing a hammer, he was able to break the lock on the front. Inside were documents and papers of every kind, including a journal. Tacitus picked it up, opening the cover, and read. Captain's Log- Corelas We left Dusk early this morning, sailing over fairly calm waters. My crew, if you can call them mine, is continually lost. With the Thalmor impressing all the veteran sailors into the navy, I'm stuck with younger and younger sailors. One of them even fell of the boat yesterday, and we had to rope him in. I fear for them if the "Mer-eating" Imperials find us. ** The cutter's captain met with me today. If ever a ship commander believed he could single handedly stop the Empire, surely it was that one. He raved on and on about our "naval superiority" and how he was going to defend us if we ran into an armada. When I asked him why several merchant ships had been lost already, he claimed it was tropical storms or "monsters of the deep." When I asked him about those last lines, he became really pale and said, "I've seen things you wouldn't believe boy," and then hurried back to his ship. Tacitus stopped right there and tried to recall himself ever seeing any strange sights, besides random lights on the water most men called sea fairies. The scholars back in the Imperial City said they were either shiny types of fish or illusions of our lamps shining back at us. Most men thought instead they were people, just like us, who swam under the water with their own lamps. Some sailors even claimed they had fish tails, but most just laughed and went on. Tacitus shook his head at the thought of swimming fish-people with lamps and went back to reading. A small squall popped up in the night, so we detoured to the north slightly. Look out spotted a shark yesterday, a big monster that was about half the length of the cutter. Scary. ** The men have been told to be on their guard as we near Senchal. Historically this has been pirate habitat, but now we have the Imps to deal with as well, so we must always be ready. ** We outran some pirates yesterday, if only by stupidity on their part. Somehow, two of their ships collided, and they could be seen pointing towards the water. Don't know what that's about, but those Argonians are weird folk. ** Imperials on the horizon. I'll try and outrun them, we don't stab a chance up close. If it comes to it, I'll tell the men to fight, but I fear for them. I've changed into my sailors clothes, so they won't know I'm the captain. Hopefully they never will. Those rumors, even if they are Thalmor propaganda, are enough to make anyone worry, especially if what they do to captains is true. The last entries were hastily written, the final one almost illegible. But Tacitus now knew the captain was aboard, and couldn't afford to waste the chance to talk to him. He left the book and went to the hold to find the prisoners. The twelve Altmer sat huddled together, scared, obviously, and horrified at what might happen to them. Tacitus approached the cell, blonde hair in a ponytail, vest and shirt disheveled, scruff covering his face. He looked nothing the part the Thalmor admirals did, prim and proper and all business. "Which one of you is the captain? Corelas?" Tacitus asked, adding a bit of gruff too his voice. No one said a word, but the Altmer captain twitched nervously while others glanced at him. Clearing his throat, Corelas stood. "I'm the captain, I'll come with you. Just don't hurt my crew, please." Tacitus grabbed his cuffs and pulled the sailor out, then thrust him in front. "Move," was all the admiral said, poking his captive with the toe of his boot. The pair walked to Tacitus' quarters, every sailor who was at work eyeing them. They reached the cabin, where Tacitus thrust his prisoner in the chair. Corelas quivered, literally shaking in his boots. His voice wavered as he spoke first, scared and hopeless. "I...please don't hurt me. I was just shipping goods, you understand right?" Tacitus dropped the scary admiral act and jumped on his bed. He kicked off his boots and stretched out, looking relaxed and comfortable. "I'm not going to kill you, or your men for that matter. I'm not some evil Mer murdering monster, just a sailor like you. So, as long as you are honest with me, we won't have any problems. Understand?" Corelas didn't trust the man, no matter what he said, but feared for his life and knew it best to just comply. "Got it," he squeaked out. "Good. Now, what is the situation in Alinor like, hmm?" The question was broad, causing the Altmer to stumble a bit with his answer, but he spit it out. "Sailors, they are taking all the good sailors and impressing them for the navy. And mages, whoever shows affinity for magic is forced to become a medic or battlemage." "See, wasn't so hard, was it?" Tacitussaid condescendingly, not wanting the prisoner to become too comfortable. "Any more information?" "We, huh, the propaganda is more outrageous all the time. I usually now it's not true from what I hear in Elsweyr, but others hate you. The fanatical have gotten worse, and the purges in the other provinces are more frequent and harsher." Tacitus took note of all the former captain said, knowing it would prove valuable to the Penitus Oculatus. The Altmer suddenly stood up, but abruptly say down when Tacitus glared at him. "Sorry, but I thought of something else. There are rumors they are sending the fleets after you, since you are becoming such a hassle. Some even say they are going to blockade the ports already. That's it though, all I know." The Altmer sighed, hoping his information was enough to save him. Tacitus rose, leading the Mer back below decks, but instead took him towards the rear of the vessel instead of the front, where a few other cells stood. "You are going to stay here, alone, so your crew can imagine what exactly happened to you. See if any of them spill the beans. Have fun." Tacitus left the awestruck merchant captain in his cell, hopefully to ponder on the Imperial's both generous and devious plan. ** Tacitus stood outside the cell where the rest of the sailors slept, grabbing his mug of ale and sliding it along the bars to wake them up. "Rise and shine sh*tfaces. Your captain unfortunately failed to comply with my wishes, and, if you ever wish to see the glorious sun reflect of your yellow skin, I suggest you don't follow his footsteps. They sadly lead right off the edge of the ship," Tacitus said grinning. Although he hadn't much liked interrogating individuals, he found playing mind games with the poor saps would be fun indeed. Because of his threat, every captive sailor spilled their hearts out, some breaking down in tears. The trip back to Leyawiin flew by, and as he handed the sailors over to the PO agents, the shocked expressions when the men saw the captain, alive and decidedly not drowned, were priceless.

Windhelm, continued *** Baldur and Rebec had wandered out into the streets, looking at the vendors set up for the feast, and pausing to listen to a bard singing a song about Ysgramor. As they passed a group of old men sitting around playing tafl, Rebec stopped as she heard a voice growling, "You're a damned dirty cheater. I saw that." The other man was having none of it. "Bite this, Tsun-Biter!" Rebec turned, grabbing Baldur's arm. "Oh no. That's papa." "Sounds like he's gonna be in a fight. Should be good," said Baldur, grinning as they followed the voice. The two men had stood up, strewing tafl pieces across the path, and were pushing at each other's chests. "Papa, no!" Rebec tried to shout above the noise, but there were too many people talking too loudly in between. As the proper brawl started, the other passers-by stopped to watch, laughing. Nords loved a good fight, and Dunmer loved to see Nords roughing each other up. The "cheater" was a head shorter than Vigge and had a correspondingly shorter reach. After he had taken a roundhouse that staggered him back, and a hook on the jaw, he got frustrated and barreled into Vigge's midsection. The two men plowed into the onlookers behind them and soon other fists were flying, too. Rebec saw some guardsmen headed their way and had a flashback to Markarth. Pushing her way through the crowd, Rebec hauled a Breton off her father's back and thwacked another man with her gauntlet, then managed to shove her way in between Vigge and his bloodied opponent. Seeing his daughter, Vigge stopped short with his fists still in the air. "Out of my way, girl." Rebec shook her head. "Not a chance. You'll end up in the jail and miss the feast. You had your fun, papa, now back off." Onlookers groaned in disappointment that the brawl had been called off, and started going on about their business. Vigge's opponent was on the ground, moaning, but was helped up by his friends. His blood cooling, the sailor's expression turned sheepish and he grinned a little, turning to see Baldur come up. "How now, son-in-law. I'm just honoring the ancestors with the old five-fingered salute." "Haha, that's my pa! No complaints here, old man. You get put in jail, I'll just get you out, no problem." Baldur stuck his hand out for Vigge to take. "And the other man too. Can't have people throwing around claims of corruption. A man handling from Tsun-Biter's punishment enough anyway." Vigge shook Baldur's hand vigorously, then put his arm around Rebec's shoulders and flipped at the lace on her collar. "Look at you, all tarted up." "It's a naval uniform. Don't you like it?" Pulling her in with his arm, he kissed her temple. "What do you need all that for just to go sailing? Alright, no pouting. Come, son-in-law. I'll buy you both a drink." Candlehearth Hall was packed, but they had set up serving tables outside along with braziers for hand-warming. "Keep a hand on your purse, children," Vigge said as they walked through the crowd. "He's a lot more talkative now, eh?" said Baldur, whispering behind him to Rebec. She made a glass-tipping motion with her hand. Vigge had been at the mead already that morning. "And beating down some fool puts him in a good mood. I take after him in that respect." Baldur shrugged in acknowledgement that what she said made sense. Seeing an empty table ahead, Baldur quickly ran forward and secured it before anyone else tried to. He made sure to pull a chair next to him for Rebec to sit. "So, pa. I think you've proved to everyone already that you're no milkdrinker. So wouldn't you like to spend at least one night in the Palace of Ysgramor?" Vigge distributed sloshing mugs of mead to all three and shot Baldur a quizzical look. "You worried about me, son-in-law?" Baldur gave him the same look, thinking the answer obvious. "Well, of course. Why wouldn't I be? I know you can take care of yourself just fine. That doesn't mean you have to. Besides, if any of your sailor buddies knew you passed up the Palace of Kings, they'd probably gang you." The old man took a long draw on his mead, burped, and said nothing further. Rebec, watching him, shook her head. "You're wasting your time, Baldur. This stubborn old fool would rather sleep on his ship in the middle of a snowstorm." Her father took out a cigarette, lit it, and sat back. "So where are my grandchildren?" This was directed at Baldur. Baldur grinned, then glanced at Rebec and said, "They're coming, I promise. If Rebec still feels like having more after the first. We've settled on Ragna if it's a girl. Not sure about the boy name yet, though." "You could name him Vigge. Vigge the Littler." The old man's expression was placid except for the mischievous glint in his blue eyes. When Rebec snorted, he reached over and gave her ponytail a tug. "Papa, have you found any sailors for me?" Obviously Rebec was eager to change the subject. "You won't find good ones for what you're paying. Just louts and skeevers." She sighed and turned to Baldur. "This is why it's hard to keep a professional navy. The real sailors want to go where the money is. We may have to keep relying on merchant auxiliaries." Baldur said, "Well, that sounds fine to me. We don't want to waste our good sailors for smaller roles. We could focus on leadership roles. First mates and so on, then pay them more to train our own. Then eventually we'll have good sailors for less pay. I'm sure you guys thought of that already though. And the name..." Baldur through Vigge a wink. "I'll keep it in consideration." "I suppose. It's hard to keep disciplined crews together and trained when they're not all committed to the navy. And now that it's peacetime they'll lose their fighting edge. Maybe I need to set up a training exercise for the summer, after we get back from Hammerfell." Rebec turned to her father. "Do you want to come to Sentinel with us, papa? You're talking about grandchildren, but you haven't seen the boys since they were babies." "I'll be dead by then," Vigge grumbled. "What're you going to Hammerfell for anyway?" "Oh hush it, old man. You're too stubborn to die. If you did, you'd probably turn down Sovngarde for the Deadlands because it's too peaceful." Baldur started chuckling at imagining Vigge at the whalebone bridge, biting Tsun's leg, as his namesake demands, then turning back because Shor's Hall was too soft for him. "Anyway, we're going to negotiate and crack some Redguard skulls. Make sure this alliance with Hammerfell stays. We want the whole of Hammerfell, not just the Forebears. Now that they're united, we may not even get that if we don't do something. They don't trust our southern brothers and think we'll let them fool us into their control again. So we need to reassure them that isn't the case." Vigge made a skeptical noise. "Hm, well, good luck with that." He downed his mead and stood, apparently intent on finding another tafl game or brawl, or both. Rebec called after him, "Are you at least coming up to the palace for the feast?" When the old sailor just raised a hand in acknowledgement, she shook her head and turned back to Baldur. "Talkative, eh? Anyway, we probably ought to go find your ma before Galmar does." "Hmph, as if he'd have a chance," Baldur said sourly as he stood. "He's not exactly charming." "Don't be so sure. Your ma's had a long dry spell." They were stopped several times on the way by Stormcloaks, hustlers and beggars, finally making it back to the palace. The throne room was a hive of activity preparing for the feast. Tapestries had been hung on the walls depicting scenes from Nord history. Rebec paused at one. It showed a woman at the stern of a ship, pointing out towards Tamriel, with a frozen Atmora in the background. She was shown wearing armor similar to Baldur's. Behind her in the boat were shaggy oarsmen and passengers. "Rebec the Red. I wonder which of those men are her pity husbands." Baldur said, "Wouldn't be surprised if it was the lot of them. You know how many husbands she had? Heh, bet you wish you got that draugr armor now, don't you? Eorlund could have made the skirt longer." "He'd have to fill in the sides, too. By that time he might as well make me a new set entirely." She looked around at the servants' activity. "You know what this feast is missing? Boldir. No sign of that cursed bird?" "You just had to say the B word, didn't you?" Baldur's expression sunk briefly until he shrugged it off. "The bird likely won't be ready to come for another week. Who do you think is going to recite the list of names? Ulfric? And when you were announced as the High Admiral, did he make you give a speech?" Rebec looked horrified. "Gods no. I'll leave that to you." "Ah, well if he didn't make you give one, then there's no reason he'd make me give one, right?" asked Baldur. "That's what we've got a king for. And now a queen. You couldn't pay me enough to take that job." "Thing is, he seems to fancy me as a shield thane. And as co-head of the military, I'll have to instill confidence in the men. There are those who still see me as someone who was given titles rather than earned. I think the Queen probably feels the same way. We talk about her being a strong Queen, but people are going to want to see if that is true, or not." "Strength is in deeds. We aren't fancy talkers like the imps. Battle speeches, now that's something else." "Ha, tell that to Ulfric. He gives speeches better than any Imp. And the Queen does come from Cyrodiil," said Baldur. "If he does make mention of it, I suppose I won't mind. I can give one, I'd just rather not. I find them to be pretentious. I'll just speak from the heart and keep it brief. I wonder if the Queen will or not. Seems appropriate." "This isn't going to be boring, is it? Remember Herkel the Fool." "Lets see, we have to listen to someone recite five hundred ancient Nord names, some of them paragraphs long, then possibly some speeches. Lets just say, the feast part couldn't come sooner. At least there's mead. Maybe we can throw in some songs to liven things up, eh? The after party's what I'm looking forward to." "Paragraph-long names." Rebec snickered. "Well, I don't see your ma here anywhere. We'd better go check Galmar's quarters." *** After Baldur and Rebec snagged Ysana, who luckily for Baldur was not in Galmar's quarters, Ulfric's team of servants finished preparations for the feast. The table was covered in mostly meats with large bowls of vegetable soups and bread next to it. Other wooden tables were put out for various commanders and ship captains, as well as some of their guests. The main table was reserved for Ulfric's court, namely Galmar, Baldur, Rebec, Jorleif, Thrice-Pierced and Baldur and Rebec's parents. As well as of course Ulfric and Veleda. Baldur sat next to Rebec and Galmar, and across from them was Vigge and Ysana, with room at the end for Ulfric and Veleda, with Sofie sitting next to her. Baldur looked around and saw lots of unfamiliar faces staring at them, since they were at the "privileged" table. Probably wondering who their guests were. Leaning over to Rebec, Baldur said, "Where's Mazoga? She'll be late." "I told her about it, but I don't know if she'll come. She said something about it being a Nord festival, not a place for orcs." Baldur said, "The Queen's got a Bosmer here. Did you tell her that?" Rebec looked over to where the fat little Bosmer was wedged in among Nords, already shoveling his face full of food. "Uh... no, I didn't know about the elf. He looks like he thinks he's a Nord." "Oh well. A shame," he said. Across the table, Ysana was staying quiet, not used to so many people around and feeling out of place. Turning to Vigge, she said, "So, you're Rebec's father? Heard you gave my boy some trouble." Vigge wasn't too happy about the setting, either, though the food was good. He'd said a gruff hello to Ysana and otherwise hadn't uttered a word to anyone. At her question, he mumbled something and speared another slab of roast pork. Rebec leaned over. "I think what papa meant to say is that he had to figure out if Baldur was good enough for me." "And what's your answer now, Sir grumps?" Ysana gave him a smile, but she was curious to the answer, as was Baldur, although he didn't want Ysana nagging him. "Ma, let the man eat in peace. He's a show-er, not a teller. And he's been nice enough." "My warning still stands, boy," Vigge said to him, though his eyes were mirthful. Of course he meant the warning about limb removal if Baldur hurt his daughter. Turning to Ysana, he asked gruffly, "You're some kind of priest?" "You know what kind of priest she is, old man. Rebec told me she told you." Baldur narrowed his eyes, but he was smirking. "Yes, I'm a priest of Dibella. Or I was, anyway. Why do you ask?" "Yes, why do you ask?" Galmar finally opened his mouth, now interested in the conversation for the first time. "Making conversation," Vigge growled back at Galmar. He then went back to his pork, stabbing it ruthlessly with his eating dagger. That was the beginning and end of that conversation. Veleda watched the exchange with a wry smile, until Sofie piped up next to her. "Dibella? Which goddess is that one?" "Goddess of beauty and the arts," the queen answered. "And torture," Rebec added across the table. "And potato mashing," Baldur threw in with a devilish smirk. "Sweetrolls," Rebec added. Sofie brightened at that. "I love sweetrolls." "So does Baldur," the admiral replied. "Without frosting." Baldur looked at Rebec and said with a straight face, "Not all the time. I'm just picky where it comes from. Only trust my own recipe." Ysana just sat there, face turning red whilst holding back her fit of laughter that was surely to come. Galmar just looked confused, clearly out of the inside joke. "Do you make good frosting, Mister Baldur?" Sofie asked. "It's High General," Veleda corrected. She didn't know the joke, either, but could guess the gist of it, especially when she saw the look crossing the admiral's face. "His is the best in Tamriel," Rebec replied, only barely controlling her laughter. Baldur took a look at Vigge half fearful and half curious to see what he was thinking of the conversation. Ysana was wide eyed, but she hid her face in her hood. Baldur took a swig of mead to keep from bursting out laughing. "Well, thank you my love. But we're a team, don't let her fool you. My frosting would be nothing without my wife's cooking skills. Her sweetroll's always the softest, most tender delicious sweetroll you'd ever bite into. By my Nord's honor, I swear that to you." "Wow!" Sofie's eyes were wide. She had been shoveling in food almost as fast as Menel was, but the talk of sweetrolls was only making her hungrier, which fortunately stopped any further questioning. Rebec, nearly choking from suppressed laughter, said, "My love, I think you'd better give a toast to our new queen, and to the true High King of Skyrim." "Of course. To High King Ulfric Stormcloak and High Queen Veleda. Long live the King and Queen!" The table all raised their tankards and slapped their cups together. Some of the mead spilled, but no one paid any attention to it. The shout echoed across the hall as guests raised their mugs. "Thank you, Baldur. Nice to talk about something other than what you two do in the bedroom," said Ulfric. "Well, you put those nice fires in the room, so it seemed only fitting we use them to bake," said Baldur to save face. Avoiding Vigge's eyes and Ysana's snickering, he said, "So, Veleda, who's this young lady?" "Oh, this is Sofie. She's going to be helping me out while I get used to my new duties." The queen smiled at the girl. "You haven't got a moniker yet, have you? You'll have to earn one." "A mon-" The girl appeared confused. "It's like a nickname almost, little one. Mine is the Unkindled. My father in law, here has Tsun-Biter. Veleda's is Fire-Hand," said Baldur. "Maybe if you become a strong girl you can have one as well." "And some become a clan name, like the ones read out today," Veleda added. At that, the girl frowned and her face fell. It was apparent that she made some association to her parents from the conversation. Laying a hand on her shoulder, the queen explained, "Sofie's father died bravely in our cause. He is feasting tonight in Sovngarde with all the heroes of our ancestors. To the honored dead." She lifted her glass for a toast, and out of the corner of her eye noticed Sofie's head raise and her expression ease somewhat at the image. Ulfric took the initiative and said, "To the true sons and daughters of Skyrim. May we thank and honor those who fell to give us the freedom we have today!" "Aye, to the Stormcloaks and their family members who support them," said Baldur as the others toasted. Baldur saw Ysana avert her eyes, as she didn't toast. He knew the reason. "And also, to the other Nords who fell victim to this war, torn apart from us by the Empire. They may have been our enemies, but they are our brothers. And they were worthy foes." Ysana looked to Baldur from the corner of her eye and smiled a little, then slowly raised her cup as well. "And to the worthy among our allies," Rebec added, obviously having a speech or two in her after all. "Redguard, orc and Dunmer. To Jodun and Reval. Gods avenge the hands that felled you." Veleda added, "Hear, hear. To the Bosmer, as well, and all who fight beside us. May they inspire courage in others to do the same." At this Menel gave a war whoop and sloshed his ale mug in her direction. There were other shouts in the hall, a toast that went on almost as long as the recitation earlier, though with more drinking. The line about the Bosmer made Baldur's eyes go to the table. Eventually, Baldur said under his breath, "Maori. Wherever you are... to you as well." By the time the toasts were done, more food had been brought out, though true to Herkel's tale, there were a few who'd already collapsed into their plates, though in no danger of freezing to death in the warm hall. Veleda took Sofie up to tuck her in, then returned and sat at her place, not having eaten or drunk much herself. Across the hall, she watched Ulfric talking with his men. Predictably, the Red-Snows were hanging on each other nearby, exchanging mooning looks. Though earlier the sight had bothered her, the queen decided it was only her doubts about what she was doing that had unsettled her. She and Ulfric would probably never look at each other that way. She respected him, however, and it was obvious from the way he took her ideas seriously that it was mutual. That was a start. Galmar was already in his room, passed out from food and mead coma, while Ysana was still at the table with Vigge, still out eating the other men. She hadn't taken her eyes off of her sun for most of the night and that hadn't change now. Turning to Vigge, she said, "Look at them. Wonderful, isn't it?" Vigge's slightly bleary eyes turned toward his daughter and her husband. He didn't reply for some moments. "If it lasts," he answered finally. "You have doubts?" she asked. The sailor shrugged. "She thought the other one was grand, too. That was a long time ago." Ysana looked back to Rebec curiously, considering that thought, then shook her head. "No, I don't think it was quite like this. I didn't know the other one, but when she mentioned them getting his remains, there wasn't much in her when she said it. When you really love someone, I mean really love them...and you find out they're..." Ysana stopped herself from continuing, not just for herself, but for consideration of her present company, realizing Rebec's father hadn't brought a wife. "Did she lose her mother?" "A few years back," Vigge confirmed in a mumble. His deeply lined face twitched a moment, then returned to its placid stare. Ysana put a hand on his shoulder for a few moments, then rubbed his arm before standing up from the table. "I'm off to bed now. Have Baldur show you to your room. Oh, and if you still have doubts about my son and how he feels about your daughter, tell him to show you A Gift of the Hawk." Vigge started a little at the hand on his arm, glanced at Ysana, then looked back as she stood, seeming to see her for the first time. "Good night," he said simply, returning to his mead mug. It was empty. He stood, tottered a little, and stared around, wondering if the palace had a privy or if it was all for show. Seeing him, Rebec came over. "Papa, you alright?" "Gotta piss." "Come on, let's get you to a room and then you can pass out when you're done." Signaling Baldur, Rebec took Vigge's arm and led him upstairs. She could read his silence and grunts more easily than others, and knew that he felt out of place, and out of sorts from being at a celebration without his wife. He accepted her help and didn't protest about the room, either. At the door he gave Rebec a quick hug and kiss on her forehead and growled, "Now go on. That bard'll start crying if you're gone too long." "Battle Bard. Battle Bards don't cry, pa. In public," Baldur said, coming up in time to hear the comment. "Good night. You'll thank us later when you've had a night off the pallet to rest." "Good night, son-in-law," Vigge slurred as the door shut behind him. Rebec turned, grinning. "He's claiming you now, at least. Maybe he'll eventually learn your first name." Baldur put an arm over her shoulder and lead her to their quarters. "I'll take son-in-law over grunts. It's nice hearing him call me son. That was a good feast, eh? Even with the speech, which luckily came before the name reciting. Otherwise, everyone would've been too bored to listen. Ma and Vigge seemed to get along." "He was talking to her. That's something. He misses mama still. I imagine your ma's not quite over Ulrin, either." "No," he said simply, knowing she was not. Walking into the room, he quickly drpped his armor, then laid out into the bed eagerly, thankful to finally be through the long day. Looking to her, he said, "I couldn't imagine having to be put through what your pa is right now. If you pass first, I won't be sticking around here for very long." "You just go on," Rebec answered, shrugging. She was disassembling her uniform belts. "He wants to keep the house, but I think he'll be happier if he moves to our little town. Especially if there's a child." "There will be," he said. "Little Ragna. Or Vigge, hehe, or something. Or Bjornir." Rebec smiled. She was trying to put aside her fears and sadness for Baldur's sake. "Ships to tinker with and a baby to sit on his knee, that'd stop him talking about dying for a little while. If he can get the baby away from you and your ma." "I think we'll all be competing for time with the child. May need to make more just so everyone can have one." Baldur's eyes were shut as he pictured that. Under the sheets, he smiled then rolled to his side. "Hurry up with those straps why don't you. I need you." "This thing... I think it's the first test of a naval officer's dexterity." Eventually she got the uniform off and a wool shift over her head. Crawling into bed at last, she said, "How you think Ulfric's doing with our new queen? Has to be better than Elisif." Baldur put an arm over her waist and rested his head next hers and said, "You think they're doing anything? So soon? With Elisif he wouldn't care what she thought, but with Veleda, someone loyal, I'd think he'd give her some time first. To get used to things." "Maybe. Looks like she's already got a spare lined up if they can't have their own child. Cute girl, though. We shouldn't have teased her about the sweetrolls." She grinned, not really repentant at all. Baldur let out the laugh he was holding back at the table, then said, "Well, you started it. I was just going along. I can't believe you did that in front of Vigge. You like putting my life on the line, don't you?" "Well you do like sweetrolls." She laughed, then reached over to douse the lamp at the bedside before returning to her comfortable spot on his arm.

Windhelm morning The day before the wedding, Veleda found Menel dozing off a hangover in Candlehearth Hall, waited while he cleaned himself up, then set off for the Grey Quarter to pick up some spell books that were supposed to be coming in on a shipment from Blacklight. There had never been a better time to get access to Telvanni magic, since the surviving wizards were reputed to be scrounging for gold and more willing to trade than they had been in the past. “I thought you were doing your drinking at the New Gnisis Cornerclub?†Veleda asked as they walked. “Was. Drinks are good, but I think the meat on the spit might be shank of Nord. And the company’s horrible. I haven’t seen such a pack of sourpusses since I left the College of Whispers.†“The Dunmer have had a hard century or two.†“Haven’t we all. How’s the king?†“He’s...†She shrugged. “The king. Very proper. A bit on the arrogant side. What you’d expect really. He did encourage me to continue training apprentices, which was a surprise.†“No, I mean how is he...†Menel made a lewd gesture. At Veleda’s wry expression, the Bosmer sighed. “You haven’t bedded him yet? What are you waiting for? Nobody’s going to buy that chapel-going virginal bride thing, if that’s what you’re going for.†“I wouldn’t dream of it. Can we talk about something else?†“If you’re out of practice, I could get you warmed up.†The Bosmer’s eyebrows waggled. “With your little twig?†“It’s not the size that matters, my queen, it’s what you do with what you've got.†“As of tomorrow, such talk is treasonous. I could have you hanged by your thumbs.†“Ow. Kinky. I'm slightly aroused." "Thank you for the status report." A little voice piped up near them. “Would you like to buy some flowers?†Veleda stopped mid-stride and looked down at the young brown-haired girl, dressed in a ragged, dirty dress. She was holding a basket up towards them. Menel peered into it. “Got anything illegal?†There were only a few half-wilted field flowers in the girl’s basket. The elf huffed and walked on, but Veleda hesitated at the girl's downcast expression. “Wait, don’t mind my friend. We dabble in some alchemy and are always looking for exotic ingredients. Your flowers will do for some basic potions. I’ll take everything you’ve got.†The girl’s face brightened, especially when Veleda paid twice what was asked. Curious, Fire-Hand asked the girl her name and where her parents were. “It’s Sofie. They’re... they’re dead. My mama died when I was little. I don’t remember her very well. My father was a Stormcloak soldier. One day he left and didn’t come back." Her voice cracked with emotion. "I’m all alone. I try to sell flowers so I can buy food. It’s not much, but what else can I do?†Shocked into silence, Veleda glanced at Menel, who had returned grumbling to her side. The Bosmer started shaking his head. “No. No way. You don’t need this. Don’t even...†Veleda ignored him and turned back to the girl. “You have no one to look after you? It’s good that we met, then. I was hoping to hire a promising young woman to be my handmaiden. The job is boring, though. You may prefer to sell flowers.†Hesitantly the girl asked, “A handmaiden? What would I have to do?†“You'd be given nice clothes to wear, and have to sit next to me at meals, such as at the feast tomorrow. And later on you’ll have to attend lessons, once we find you a tutor. But you would have your own room and you could still pick flowers, if you wish. Only you needn’t sell them, just bring them to me. What do you say?†Sofie wavered, seeming not to trust that the offer was serious. “I... I guess I could do that.†Veleda smiled. “Then it’s settled. Go up to the palace and ask the door guards to show you in to Jorleif. Tell him that Fire-Hand sent you, and that you are to be given a room near mine and let in to breakfast. I’ve got some errands now, but we’ll be back soon and will see about getting you a dress for the feast.†“The palace?†She seemed frightened again. “I’m afraid so. It looks imposing, but the rooms are quite cozy.†“My papa fought for the king, but I heard he... he's a bad man. Don’t tell the soldiers I said so.†Veleda shot Menel a warning glance not to say anything. They weren’t in uniform or even in armor, so obviously she hadn't realized that they were Stormcloaks. If she got spooked, she might run off and not take the offer. Keeping her voice light, Veleda replied, “He’s not so bad, but you’d be working for me, not for him.†“Who are you?†“My name is Veleda. I’m new to the palace myself, so you and I can learn about it together. If you don’t like it, we’ll find somewhere else for you to live. It’s better than being on your own, isn’t it?†“I guess so. Are you really sure?†At Fire-Hand’s nod, the girl’s apprehension eased and her voice turned excited. “I’ll go right now. Thank you, mam... I mean, Veleda... I mean, my lady!†They watched the girl run off, and Menel shook his head. “What’s your new husband going to say when you start bringing home strays?†“She’s a Stormcloak child, a war orphan. I couldn’t leave her out here.†“There are lots of war orphans, from both sides.†“Maybe I can help those eventually, too, but for now I can help this one, at least until we can find a family to take her in. You saw her. She’s a sweet thing, but that won’t last if she stays out here much longer. And just think what would happen if another sort of person came upon her instead of us.†Menel regarded her with distaste. “You’re nesting. Haven’t even got the old ball and chain clamped on and already you’re Veleda Hearth-Warmer. This is a sad pass.†“Don’t be ridiculous. Come on, I’ve got a lot to do today.†As they continued on, Veleda had to reflect that Menel’s words weren't wholly false. It wasn’t that she was “nesting,†rather that the problems she would have passed over as sad facts of life now seemed like personal responsibilities. She wondered how Ulfric handled it, this sense that every person in Skyrim was his charge and their burdens were his. Veleda wondered if he would be relieved that she wanted to help him take it on, or if he would come to resent her for it. *** The next day within the Palace, Ulfric hadn't been sitting in his throne, but standing, surrounded by Baldur's men who would be escorting the lot of them to the temple and stand between them and the civilians. Galmar was among them, waiting for Baldur and Rebec to arrive for the departure to the temple. And of course the Queen. Galmar had actually dressed up for the occasion. By polishing his hammer and sharpening the claws on his gauntlets. Ulfric simply sharpened his war axe and had the sword of Queen Freydis waiting for Veleda in hand. Turning from their conversation, Galmar looked and saw Baldur in his new armor for the wedding. "Baldur, about time. Where's Rebec?" asked Galmar. "And Veleda. Do you know if she is ready yet?" asked Ulfric. "She's with mother, making sure everything is fitted right on her before her wedding," answered Baldur. "Rebec will be out soon." A few minutes later Rebec emerged from upstairs, still adjusting belts on her new naval officer uniform as she stepped next to her husband. "The queen will be down soon, Your Majesty. Ysana's working her magic. It'll be worth the wait." She looked over Baldur's armor proudly and gave him a wink. Baldur didn't bother holding back his smile both from her wink and pride in how Rebec looked herself. Galmar looked down at his old gear and frowned after seeing Baldur and Rebec's new stuff. Ulfric offered him some new toys before, but Galmar wouldn't hear anything of it. He was regretting that now. "Well look at you two," he said, trying to hide the jealousy in his voice. "I thought the Imperials were the ones getting all fancy and dressed for weddings." "Jealous, Stone-Fist?" Rebec smirked. To Ulfric she said, "Thank you for the gear, Your Majesty. I didn't expect it." "Of course. It was long overdue. Couldn't have you thinking I didn't appreciate you as well," said the King. "Well we got the message loud and clear. Thank you. The eye seeing thing with night vision was really cool. That Wuunferth's like an Eorlund with enchantments," said Baldur. At last Ysana appeared with Veleda right behind her. The new queen was dressed in a simple but finely made dress of black velvet, with an embroidered band of gold, red and green at the neck and sleeves, a sabrecat fur collar and a gilded sword belt. Wuunferth had contributed to her outfit, too, giving her a slim gold circlet set with rubies and emeralds and enchanted for magicka. Ysana had put Veleda's hair in large curlers and treated it with oils to make it shine, and had given her a muted, natural makeup of red cheeks and lips and kohl at her eyes. Veleda had never felt intimidated by a group of soldiers, but she was usually approaching them for command. Smiling nervously at Baldur and Rebec, she stepped toward the king. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Your Majesty." "Wow, your mother has quite the touch, Baldur. I'm impressed," said Ulfric, his reaction genuine but tame. Baldur wanted to say they should have seen Rebec, but thought better of it and gave a whistle. "Not bad, Veleda! Ma, you did great, yet again," said Baldur. Ysana licked her thumb and wiped Veleda's eyebrows before standing back to admire her work once more. Smiling and turning back to her son, she said, "Ah well, it's nothing. Thank you Baldur. And thank you, High King." She was being modest in her reaction, but on the inside she was glowing much brighter than her smug smile showed. "I'm presentable then?" Veleda smiled. "Thank you, Ysana. I'd just as soon have worn my armor, but I can't get the char smell out. The people would probably prefer this." She waited for Ulfric to give his command. "You're forgetting what city this is," said Baldur. "Yes, armor would have been just fine. They may actually say it's your Cyrodiil background that made you dress this way. Not that it matters. Alright, lets get a move on," said Ulfric. "Right. Men! Move out," said Galmar as if they were going on a military destination. The Necro Nords lined up on the left and right of the Palace hall, already marching their way out to provide a section from the people outside for the royal couple and their court. Baldur leaned over to Rebec and whispered, "You looked better." "You're a little biased," Rebec whispered back, though she smiled, pleased. They filed in next to Galmar and walked along after the king and queen, stepping out into the bright morning sun. A few snowflakes wafted down, but for Windhelm it was a beautiful day. It was a short walk to the Talos temple, their path packed every step with onlookers not just from Windhelm but from all the surrounding countryside and other parts of Skyrim, as well. The guards had been working them over all morning, sifting out the rabble and anyone who looked like trouble. Only invited guests were allowed in to the temple itself, though the normally quiet hall was standing room only. Sunlight filtered down through the windows on the statue of Talos, head bowed, sword piercing the serpent. Towards the front, Menel stood with a now-bathed and finely dressed Sofie. The Bosmer hadn't been happy about being given babysitting duty, but he gave Veleda a wry grin as she and the king approached. Sofie, finally putting two and two together, said in amazement, "She's going to be the queen?!" It was so loud that guests in the front laughed, and Veleda smiled at the girl and gave her a little wave. Ulfric hadn't gotten the chance to speak about the girl, but he wanted to. Why, he wasn't sure. Perhaps he wasn't used to someone taking things on themselves. Even with Baldur, he had to talk with him about a few things because he didn't like having things done without him knowing immediately before. It was the same when the alliance was made in Falkreath. He was a bit controlling admittedly, which was the real reason why his court was so small, but Veleda taking things into her own hands was a good sign, not a bad one, even if her bringing Sofie under her wing without saying anything did make his bear snout twitch. He needed the help from her as much as Galmar and the others to rule the Kingdom properly. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he thought. It just made it easier. Ulfric hadn't realized he was glaring at the girl, but he didn't change his expression when he realized he was. Instead he simply took his position in the front of the chapel and left things at that. Sofie shrank back at the king's glaring look, and grabbed for Menel's hand. The Bosmer looked down at the little hand as if it were a slaughterfish, but after a moment clasped it with an exasperated look. Fire-Hand is going to pay for this. The queen-to-be had noticed Ulfric's expression, too, and hers firmed in response. If they had to work out their share of authority over something, it might as well be over an innocent victim of the war. As Lortheim and Jora walked to the front as well to start the short ceremony, Baldur had taken his place next to Galmar who was at the edge of the bench. Ysana was next to Rebec. "It's a good thing we have a feast as well. Always seemed a bit strange to me that people put on such expensive attire as that dress for such a short occasion. I guess she can wear it other days too though." "Normally I'd agree, but Ysana has talent. Nice to see it," said Galmar. "Don't get your hopes up, Galmar. You're not her type," said Baldur, glaring at Galmar while he whispered so Ysana couldn't hear. "Hehehe, we'll see about that, boy." Rebec craned around looking for Vigge. He was nowhere to be seen, not liking crowds or pomp. He'd show up when the food was being served. Turning eyes back to the front, she glanced up at the big Talos statue that loomed above them all. Their family had never much liked the imperial cult, including Talos, but people said he was Ysmir too, like Wulfharth. If that was true, then it was fitting that Ulfric would marry under the war god's sword. Rebec thought about Runil and their own wedding. Like the king and queen, love had always gone together with the warrior life for them. It was the Nord way. Turning her eyes to Baldur, Rebec put her gloved hand in his gauntlet and smiled up at him. Baldur was still eying Galmar before she put her hand over his. Both of them were glaring at each other, neither backing down. When Baldur felt the hand however, he forgot about the conversation and looked at Rebec while she looked to him. He knew what she was thinking about. It was pretty hard not to notice. Smiling, he put his other hand over hers and laced his fingers through hers. That was another thing he liked about their new attire. The fingers were free and allowed them to touch. He then scooted closer to her and leaned his head against Rebec's. Ulfric had been carrying his Jagged Crown in hand but placed it on his head now that the ceremony was about to begin. Jora had started to clear her throat, so it was clear that she would be doing the speaking. Before she began, Ulfric quickly handed the sword of Queen Freydis in its scabbard to Veleda for her to take. "You recognize this?" Veleda took the sword and admired the handiwork. "I'm afraid I don't." The priests overheard the conversation and raised an eyebrow before looking at each other at the same time, clearly surprised that she didn't know. Ulfric gave them a look that said for them to mind their own business. "It's the sword of a High Queen in the second era. She ruled on her own, no High King with her. A strong Queen from the good old days. I thought it only fair that you get something legendary and prestigious as well to have if you'll be my Queen. This was recovered by the Dragonborn." As he spoke, he signaled for the priests to begin the rites. When he did, Jora walked forward and waited for the others to quiet down. "We are gathered today, to respect and honor Talos with a marriage of our High King and now High Queen. This is not your typical marriage. It is not just witnessed by Mara. Talos is Ysmir and Ysmir being High King as well will give credence to this joining. Just like the life of most soldiers, this ceremony will be brief. For soldiers are what they are, yet may their lives be long before they go to Sovngarde. Before we proceed, is there anyone here brave enough to challenge the credibility of this marriage or the ones partaking in it? Anyone willing to challenge the god of war's judgement?" Baldur took a look around the room at the various soldiers and nobles in the back who did not stir, then to the front of the palace with Ulfric's court. Then he looked up once more at the towering statue of Talos, imposing indeed like he was hoping there would be at least one who would dare, just for the chance to fight. Veleda's eyes moved around as well, just waiting for someone to object. Her parents would be screaming objections from Cyrodiil. The priests themselves, maybe? She had sheathed Queen Freydis' sword, and filed away the name to look it up later, but noted the doubtful expressions. Glancing at Ulfric, she remembered his scowl at Sofie, and the business-like manner with which he had approached everything. That had seemed proper before, but now a moment of panic set in. I'm making a terrible mistake. Turning her eyes towards the figure of Talos, she reminded herself sternly that this was for Skyrim. Years ago she had determined that she would sacrifice personal freedom and happiness, maybe her own life, to keep Tamriel free from the Thalmor. That goal was larger now but it was still the same commitment. She took a deep breath and looked back at the priestess. Satisfied that none had said anything, Jora proceeded. "Then by the authority of he who has risen from ash, and he who has risen from the binds of mortality, and by the authority given to me by the High King, in Ysmir's name, I proclaim High King Ulfric Stormcloak and High Queen Veleda Fire-Hand married." Jora signaled for her husband to continue the next step. He brought over a bowl with a ceremonial skyforge steel dagger and two royal rings in his hand. "We now spill royal blood to symbolize the death of the Queen's old role as a single woman. Just as a Nord dies when their blood is shed. And the rings will bind them together and their finger wounds joined to symbolize the High Queen's rising into power through this marriage, just as a Nord rises to Sovngarde through a warrior's marriage to war." Jora and her husband waited for the couple to allow them to proceed. Her expression more grim than the usual bride's, Veleda reached out her already scarred hand, holding it steady. Ulfric did the same. Seeing that the two were stern and unwavering, Jora signaled for her husband to continue. After he sliced lightly at the tip of both Ulfric and Veleda's ring fingers, he pressed them together over the bowl, then placed the rings on their fingers. Then Jora took the bowl and dipped her finger in and began to paint their faces with it in swirl designs that Nords sometimes place with warpaint on newly wed couples. "And now we take the remainder of this royal blood, and place it at Talos' feet. By doing this, we ask him to bless this bloodline, so that it will stay strong and rule strong, just as he did when he still roamed the land. And now, it is done. Long live the King and Queen! Long live the Stormcloaks!" The crowd in the temple erupted into cheers and shouts of well wishes. The loudest were Veleda's apprentices, who made up one rowdy section in the back. Rebec joined in the cheering, then turned to Baldur. "Well. Talos weddings are bloody affairs, it seems. Of course, you and I got smeared with enough blood before and after ours to last for a hundred weddings." "Oh yea, our wedding will be hard to top. Don't expect that anyone will for some time, eh? When Red-Snows get married, we make sure there's plenty of red to go around," he said. Remembering that day and being caught in the moment of the wedding made Baldur smile. Looking at Rebec, he put a finger under her chin and slowly drew near her, until he finally planted his lips on hers. Galmar rolled his eyes, but then leaned forward when that reminded him of something. "Wait, you forgot to kiss, you two!" he said, pointing to Veleda and Ulfric and grinning as he did. Veleda glanced over at Galmar and was about to wave off his words, but the suggestion was picked up by others in the crowd who turned it into a chanting demand. Glancing at Ulfric, she said, "I think they're going to riot." "It was bound to come up eventually," said Ulfric. Taking no longer to give the crowd what they wanted, Ulfric took the initiative and stepped towards her, placing his hands behind her back as he locked his lips to hers, giving it a good presentation for the crowd, but making it brief in time. Once he pulled away, he smiled and turned to the crowd who was clapping and cheering, some even whistling. Baldur was among them. Laughing, Ulfric said, "Alright, begone with all of you! Go on, get out of here and enjoy yourselves!" Veleda waited until some of the crowd had cleared, then stepped over to where Menel and Sofie stood. Brushing a hand over the little girl's cheek, the queen said, "Everything alright? You go with Menel back to the palace and I'll be along. You'll sit next to me at the feast." The Bosmer shot her a withering look, then took Sofie's hand, resigned to nanny duty for a little while longer. "Come along then, young Nord. Have you heard the one about the Khajiit and the drunk barber?" Meanwhile Veleda returned to Ulfric's side, avoiding his eyes. Several people came up to congratulate her and the king, including Baldur and Rebec. "Thank you," Veleda replied quickly. She had seen the Red-Snows' kiss earlier, and the contrast couldn't be more plain between their marriage and her own. Even if it wasn't unexpected, the display irked her. Ulfric noticed the look on her face, but wasn't completely sure what to make of it. There wasn't anyone around, so Ulfric decided to ask. They'd need to get in that habit anyway. "Something on your mind?" It was obvious that there was, all things considered, but he didn't know what else to say. They may have been married, but neither were fooled into thinking that they would be caring in the way that two in love would be. Not now, anyway. "It gets better. Soon, the day will be behind you and you'll be back to work, mixing magical concoctions and so on." "Is it that simple?" Veleda forced a smile, then waved her hand. "I know. I just hope we don't both live to regret this. It's fine. This is for them, not for us." She gestured at the people filing out, and the larger crowd that had gathered outside in the square. Ulfric despite having been through this before found himself in alien territory now. With Elisif, he hadn't given a damn about her, so he just told her to suck it up and do what she was told. But with Veleda, she was loyal. And also a good Nord. So he respected her and did care enough to try and make her feel better. But at the same time, not coddle her. "It is that simple, if you choose for it to be. Otherwise, you risk making yourself miserable for dwelling on things too long. You said you hadn't planned on getting married before. Well, this isn't a traditional marriage. I won't get in your way more than necessary and you the same I imagine. Neither of us has to be closer than that unless we choose to. Maybe some day we will." Veleda glanced at him, surprised that he was soliciting her feelings at all. It calmed her somewhat. "I'm not one to look back or to dwell. Just jitters, I suppose. They've passed. Thank you, and for the sword as well. I'll wear it proudly." Ulfric looked down thoughtfully, then back to her and nodded. It would take some getting used to for him as well. "Alright, then. What do you say we make one more crowd appearance, then you can go your own way until it's time for the feast?" "Very well. After you, Your Majesty." Ulfric took her arm and lead her to the entrance of the door. As expected there were a lot of people waiting for their return. They didn't disappoint, filling the air with cheers and cries as he returned their calls with waves, occasionally shaking hands as they walked by. As they made their way back to the doors of the palace, Ulfric said in a low tone. "Now, about this girl. Who is she?" Right to the point. Veleda was relieved about that. Briefly she recounted Sofie's sad tale. "I told her that I would take her on as handmaiden, but that was to save her pride. I plan to look for a home for her, perhaps see about starting an orphanage here. Also, she thinks you're a bad man." Smiling a little, she went on, "You might try harder to convince her otherwise?" Ulfric stayed quiet for a while before he gave an answer. "She can think what she wants. Like with the civil war, I never tried being anything other than what I was. Everyone else was free to think what they wanted. If she thinks I'm a bad man, so be it. I'd be interested to see why, for curiosity's sake. Anyway, you should be careful on how many causes you start taking up. People may get the wrong idea with your first act as Queen being to start an orphanage. Not that it matters. Get my meaning?" "No, not really. I didn't think about it being a first act, just something which needs doing. As for Sofie's impression of you, it probably comes from the Dunmer. She sold flowers near the Grey Quarter, and some passers-by showed me the pallet where she sleeps. In the freezing cold." There was firmness in Veleda's tone, if not quite challenge. "If people see the children of veterans starving in the streets, they'll not gladly sign up to leave their families behind." "There are things that need doing all over the place. Some things take priority over others. If it were me, I'd have her sent to the orphanage in Riften. However, you taking her in is fine. As for the orphanage, other things take priority. An orphanage would be nice, but taking care of the land grants in the Reach is more important. Once some room is freed up and things improve, people may start taking others in on their own. Then the orphanage you intend on making won't be as over-burdened. I wouldn't say I'm a bad man. Though not really good, either. I'm practical. But, if you wish to take care of this orphanage situation first, you're free to. It won't hurt anything. What I'd like to know, though is where those Dunmer get the nerve to call me a bad man while they have free room and board in my city. I don't see them offering a hand to any of the Nords without homes." Veleda shrugged. "They're a proud people abandoned by their own gods, if the stories are true. Maybe some of them were rich or politically powerful before and now they're reduced to poverty. It's easier to blame the local ruler than face what happened to their home. You must be used to negative gossip. The Dunmer complaints are nothing to what the imperials said about you." "Comes with the territory. I am used to it. You will be too. You're inheriting a lot of that by marrying me. For every person saying negative things, there's another saying the opposite. They may not like me, but then children usually don't like it when their parents give them tough love. In a way, we are their parents," said Ulfric. "I'm used to being cursed as a traitor, so I'm not afraid of criticism. Though Jorleif told me that our marriage has renewed fears you will isolate Skyrim from the rest of Tamriel. I know you're sending the Red-Snows to Hammerfell. We should talk about similar measures for Cyrodiil and Morrowind." As the king and queen were speaking, well wishers pressed in around them behind the screen of guards, craning their necks to gawk at the new queen and gossip about the pair. Some called out to her. Glancing over, Veleda said, "Should I go greet them?" "Yes, let's greet them, then we can discuss the matter of Cyrodiil and Morrowind," said Ulfric. Veleda walked over to the guards and started taking the hands that were stuck through them, clasping one after the other. Finally, when the crowd had died down as people went off to look for mead or a hot drink, she returned to Ulfric holding the flowers and little gifts people had pressed into her hands. "Heh, enjoyed that did you?" he said smirking before walking next to her to the Palace. "It's so strange. I admit, I keep expecting Thalmor assassins to jump out at me. I haven't had that feeling in a while." Inside the palace, a maid took the things from her hands to bring them to her quarters. "Probably best you don't lose that feeling. You never know." Ulfric took a seat at the table where the feast would be laid out on soon and waited for her to take a seat as well. "Now, about this Cyrodiil and Morrowind thing." Veleda sat down across from him. "Have you made any plans to send ambassadors?" "Ha, and let the Imperials think we need them? No. Marius only worked as one because he's not really one of us, regardless of what Baldur said. He and Rebec will need to go there eventually to get things straight for the great war, as far as us going through Cyrodiil, but besides that, I have no plans on sending anyone there on a regular basis. In fact, no. Baldur and Rebec can stay. Let them come to us. They need us. I'll send them a letter with an invite for them to visit my court." "Do that, but don't dismiss the idea of an ambassador. Someone able and energetic. Skyrim needs representation in trade, and eyes on what is happening down there, since the situation can change quickly. It's to our advantage, not theirs." Ulfric said, "Trade is fine as it is. We get enough of that from the East Empire Company, who wasn't exactly happy when Motierre blocked it off from us during the war. Especially from someone in the family of those who are in the higher positions in that trading company. The current Empress knows that people are wary of her being like her spineless father. She wouldn't dare try that again, not that there'd be a reason for her to. What Motierre did was as bad for them as it was for us. He only did it because of the Thalmor. Trade will take care of itself without my interfering. Like I said, they need us. And everyone knows it. As for Morrowind, I'd be more open to them, but I don't know if much good would come of it. They're too busy with their own problems with the lizards and rebuilding to care of others." Veleda's finger tapped the table, but after a moment she shrugged. "As you say, Your Majesty. It's not that I want to go looking for problems, but better to see them far off than when they're at your doorstep." Standing, she said, "I'll take my leave then, until the feast." Ulfric was about to let her leave, but he sensed her frustration. Quickly he said, "Wait, I'll consider what you said about the ambassador. Just...let me think over it some more. Consider candidates and so on." She turned back, surprised. "Good. I... honestly I didn't expect you to listen to me as much as you have." "Neither did I," he said, simply. "But that's what you're here for." She had to laugh at that. "Very well. You can blame me if it goes wrong. Until later, Your Majesty." To be continued

Gracchus, Theodore, Brutus, Endar West Weald Inn Morning Theodore sat at the desk in his room, quill in hand and parchment spread across the writing station. He dipped the end in of the quill in ink, then began penning the letter. Count Brutus, General Gracchus Ceno, of recent fame, and I will be traveling to Kvatch within the coming day. I wanted to give you fair warning to expect visitors, and having heard of your reputation as a partier expect no less than pure extravagance. Joking aside, I look forward to meeting your acquaintance in person, Until then, Lord Theodore Adrard Theodore was happy with the overall letter, simple and fun, so left his room and walked down the creaky old stairs to the main area of the tavern. A courier stood in the corner, waiting for anyone who had a letter, so Theodore presented his message, along with instructions for it to be taken to Kvatch. He paid the man his dues, and the messenger scampered on his way. Theodore saw several patrons already, even at this early hour. Gracchus and the guards, all dressed and packed, sat enjoying breakfast, so Theodore joined them. Soon after the merry band left, headed west toward the city of Kvatch. ** One of the guards of Kvatch received the letter early in the day and was surprised to see that Brutus was up, sitting in his throne. And that it was actually him and not his silly self portrait, made to look like him. It was obvious because his eyes were closed and a green apple was in front of him, floating. A clear illusion made by his mind that he was making for practice. The guardsman approached him now, standing just in front of the apple. Brutus during times of self training was the sanest that anyone ever saw him, so it was a relief to the guardsman, knowing how his count was otherwise when he was in high spirits. Before the guardsman could speak, Brutus still with eyes closed said, "Give me the letter." "Huh? How did...nevermind. Here you are, sir." The guard presented the letter to him now, his arm going through the fake apple. Brutus quickly took the letter from him now, then smiled. The same weasel like smile he always had fixed on his handsome, yet unsettling face. "Take the apple." The guard raised an eyebrow, looking at the apple that his hand just went through. "Go on, don't be shy. Take it." Worms love apples. "Bite." The guard's face didn't change its expression, but he played along. He was amazed to see that the apple actually felt like an apple. One he could hold in his hands. When he went to bite into it, he actually felt his teeth plunge into it as well. And the taste. "Wow, you're getting really good at this! How did you do it?" asked the guard. When he did, the apple dissipated before him, as did the taste of it in his mouth. Brutus, eyes still closed said, "Simple, really. I channeled an area of effect spell around me when you gave me the note. Charm. I didn't make an illusion of the apple, I simply charmed you and persuaded your mind into thinking you actually could hold the apple and bite it. Simply through commanding you to do so." The guard stood there in silence, a little nervous and fearful that his mind had been so easily and noticeably manipulated. Eager to rid himself of the count's presence, he said, "Well, if that's everythi..." His speech trailed off when he looked to the chair before him. Brutus was there but it was the painting on the sheets, a two dimensional image. Brutus was gone. The note, sitting in the chair on the painting's lap. Now the guard really was nervous and started thinking the count must be a ghost. He quickly turned away from the chair and walked out of the palace, glad to be far from the count and his strange magic. When he left, the other guards in the room started to laugh, as they were already used to him and his many tricks. Brutus suddenly appeared standing next to the throne in a flash of green light as his invisibility spell wore off when he took a bite into a green apple. Picking up the letter from the chair, Brutus giggled in delight at his increase in skill, and he giggled once more when he read the note. "Hmm....guests...this should be fun. I must see if Endar will wish to attend!" The count took one more bite from his apple, then walked off to the back of the palace. *** Endar anxiously tapped an index finger against his wooden desk. It wasn't his index finger that he tapped however, it was the severed pointer of a giant. One of many he'd collected during his time spent studying them in Skyrim. "You really think this is going to work Mister Drenim?" his stewardess, Elara asked nervously from across the room. She held a scroll in one hand, and what looked like a sleeping house cat wirh gray fur in the other. She was holding the little creature up by the scruff of his neck. "Of course I do." he answered. "I've had two others give me very similar results from their own experimentation." He gave an quick, impatient wave for her to get a move on. "Will it hurt him?" she asked, looking nervously at the cat. "Probably." He didn't understand why she was still hesitating. "What does it matter?" "It's just that, he's kind of cute is all." "Cute?! By Azura, is that what's holding you back?! That is a very dangerous creature you are holding, and he would probably set you ablaze if he was conscious and capable of doing so." Elara's brow furrowed. She gave the little cat a shake. "Doesn't seem dangerous to me. There used to be one that looked just like him that lived near my home. 'Cept he was black, not gray." "You are confusing a house cat with a powerful and ambitious Alfiq mage. That's not advisable. Now go on and read the damned scroll! He's probably already getting cold!" Elara shrugged and began reading. It was all gibberish to her. Completely incomprehensible to anyone but Endar himself, but he needed to stay a certain distance away with the magicka anchor while the scroll was read, and frankly, there were probably only a handful of people who could understand Drenim's scribbled handwriting. It had taken her over a month just to get it down herself. By the time she'd finished, she could feel the Khajiit vibrating a bit, then his eyes opened, shooting a bright red beam of light from both. However, the magical light quickly faded and disappeared. The vibrating stopped and the Khajiit kicked a few times before finally going limp. "Damnit woman!" Endar looked pissed. He set aside his giant finger and crossed over to her. "You killed him! Do you know how difficult it is to get a living Alfiq test subject in Cyrodiil? And a voluntary one at that!" Of course, by voluntary, he meant hostile. Elara shook her head as she dropped the useless dead subject to the floor. "I read it right! That's all I had to do." Endar snatched the scroll from her and looked it over. "Not likely. Because otherwise, that would mean that I made a mistake, and that is not likel- Ah! I see the problem." He sat the scroll on his desk and made a correction to it using his quill. "Next time then!" "Don't you have something to say?" Elara looked at him expectantly, waiting for an apology. The wizard shrugged. "No, not really." He turned and headed for the door. He had absolutely no idea what his stewardess was going on about now. Perhaps he'd ask her later, but for now, he had to go into town to buy a few soul gems, as his own stick was getting low. "Dispose of the Khajiit before he sticks up the place." With that, he was out the door. Brutus almost ran smack into Endar's face as he walked out, skipping his way excitedly to tell him of the news. "Oh, Master Endar! Sorry, I hadn't seen you. Guess what?" Endar rolled his eyes at the Count's reckless joviality. Still, the man hadn't come to his room personally in a couple weeks, so whatever the occasion was that put him in such a good mood, it was probably big. He wasn't sure why he was expected to guess though. Considering his current lack of knowledge of the subject, guessing seemed like a waste of time. "I'd rather not. What is it?" The count was disappointed that Endar didn't try to guess, but he figured he could get him interested more if he presented it in an interesting way. Tapping his lip with his finger for a few seconds to think, Brutus decided to demonstrate how much he had grown in illusion magics by seeing if he could influence the mage enough for him to hear his voice through magic. Brutus placed his hands on Endar's shoulder as if he was grasping him in excitement, then subtly cast a spell of rally, displaying thoughts of revelry to see if he could get him excited for the occasion like soldiers for a battle. Endar immediately felt several of his protection spells kicking in. It didn't bother him, what Brutus was doing, but he was somewhat curious about the motive. "Why, in Boethia's name, are you trying to charm me?" Brutus sighed in disappointment, but he wasn't surprised. Nothing short of a lifetime of training would let you affect a Telvanni with anything unless they let you. Undeterred, Brutus moved past Endar to Elara, ignoring the dead cat on the floor for now and placed his hands on her shoulder to do the same thing, filling her head with thoughts of a wild party. "What in the-?!" Elara's eyes widened as dozens of people, some familiar, some not, appeared in the room around her. There was drinking, and music, and Endar's desk now housed a large Orcish man being pleasured by several women of various races. The amount of revelry was downright chaotic. Moreso than she was used to. She nervously glanced around the room, then at Endar, who stood in the doorway watching only her and Brutus with an expression that gave away nothing. Observing, as he always did. She backed away from Brutus and into a heavyset Breton man in fine clothes, holding a mug just like everyone around him. "What the- I don't understand what's going on."The stewardess tried to keep a level head. She'd worked for Endar long enough to know how to do at least that. "This is an illusion, right?" It certainly didn't seem like it. The man she'd bumped into felt real, the music and shouts sounded real. Everything seemed real, except for the smell. The only thing she could smell was slightly burned cat hair. "What is 'real', really?" Brutus said simply. Elara blinked. "What do you even mean? Real is r-..." She paused. "You know what? Forget it, you can talk that mumbo jumbo with the boss, but I'm not even going to try to solve your riddles. Mister Drenim, do you see all these people?" Endar just shook his head. "Ha! It is a spell!" Elara ignored a particularly fat Bosmer next to her taking his shirt off for some reason, and looked at Brutus curiously. "Why would you show me a party?" The same Bosmer who was taking off his shirt suddenly walked over to Elara now and handed her an illusion of the note Brutus received. When he did, Brutus who was actually standing next to Endar, to which the Telvanni wizard was fully aware of, whispered in his ear and said, "Really funny watching her talk to herself, isn't it?" Endar didn't respond. He'd told Brutus in the past that Elara wasn't to be charmed without his consent, but on the other hand, it really was quite amusing. He watched her hold up her hands as if she held something in them. Paper, he guessed, considering how close her fingers were together. It must've been some sort of note, as her eyes went back and forth as if reading lines of text. "What does it say, Elara?" The Breton looked up from the note. She spoke loudly, as if trying to communicate over a lot of other noises. "Some guy named Theodore is coming soon. He's a Lord. And he's bringing a General Gracchus Ceno with him. That's about it. Oh! And it says that our Count is a partier." She glanced around, then looked at Brutus. "Is that what all this is about? You're going to throw this visiting Lord a party?" "Exactly!" proclaimed Brutus from near Endar. The illusion of himself in front of her clapped, then made the images dissipate before her. Brutus was satisfied that his magic at least worked on her, but he wished to test it on someone with a stronger mind. Who wasn't a Telvanni of course. "So, what do you think, eh? Sanguine is among us tonight! The state of the Empire is....to be desired...so I'll have to cut a deal with some of the local tavern owners. Have them bring booze and food, and they can sell it here in the palace and I get a cut of the slice. Everyone will be very happy and merry, I'll see to that. So they'll be spending coin like its no tomorrow." "That is quite the plan." admitted Endar. He liked Brutus. The man, while facinatingly eccentric, had been good to him in allowing him to stay in the castle, doing as he pleased with little interruption, and all he had to do in return was give him lessons, which could be done on his sleep, and so he made effort not to insult his host when he could. Now was one of those times, as he saw parties, and all the subsequent planning they involved, as a waste of time by nature. He didn't give anything away though, and instead simply nodded to his good host. "Is this Lord a friend of yours?" "No, I've never met them. But I've heard of them. Gracchus is the General who sided with the Nords and fought along side them to rid us of those damn dick stuffed curs. Think they're too good for illusions! **** 'em I say. Always harping on about how this world is a prison. If Lorkhan hadn't done what he did, do you know where we'd be? Huh!? Close your eyes and there you go! Boring! Absolutely boring! No wonder Lorkhan did this, the poor fool must have been wonderfully mad with boredom! Anyway, this Gracchus fellow from what I've heard can serve to loosen up. Now this Theodore on the other hand....Now he sounds like he knows how to live!" Brutus did a cartwheel towards the wall, and then backflipped off the surface. "Ah there's gonna be so much poon you won't know what to do with yourself! I've got a whole stock of extra strength stamina potions...." "Right." Endar was fairly certain that he himself wouldn't be making an appearance, but he decided not to mention that for the sake of having to explain why. "Well, I'm going to send guards off to prepare and spread the word! I'm going to have to use the money gained from this party to put into problems of the city, I suppose....responsibilities always make me feel so....sane....My training in general has made me feel....sane. I wonder...if one gains more mastery over the illusion of the world and realizes better how it works, would that break the tie to Sheogorath? Madness is to accept an illusion as truth...I am in love! I am a bird! I am not accepting an illusion, I am accepting truth! I am not mad! I am! I am.....there's a paradox...One who is mad does not know it, and he accepts an illusion as truth. But if that is true, then...what am I? Has Sheogorath not gifted me with madness, but rather the understanding of madness? How can I be mad if I know of it and and would be aware if I was? Perhaps his gift is not madness, but the understanding of it, therefore making me a champion of paradox? I am both mad and not? Now that thought is....maddening...." Brutus's rambling continued on in a fevered pace as he walked out of the door while whispering to himself continuously. Endar and Elara stood in silence for several moments after Brutus left. "Elara." Endar finally broke the silence. "Yes Mister Drenim?" "There's still a dead mage cat in my floor." With that, Endar once again headed from the room, leaving the very confused Stewardess to make sure that it was exactly as he wanted when he returned. ** Gracchus and Theodore had been riding hard all day, Theodore pushing them so they could make the party in time. The sun was just beginning to set in the west, casting long shadows as the group rode up to the castle. The guards wore closed helms, and they opened the door freely as the caravan arrived. The Palace main hall inside had two tables filled with food on either side, brought and paid by the various tavern owners as part of the agreement to have the right to sell their drinks outside in the courtyard. On the way to the castle were crowds of men and women drinking and talking, singing and carrying on. There was sounds of flutes, lutes and drums all throughout the atmosphere. The doors to the inside were open to all, noble and peasant alike. Brutus's home had a way of loosening people up, and was one of the only places where one could ever spot Nobles and peasants mixing in more ways than one. Staff in hand, Brutus walked through the crowd at the Palace door to approach his arriving guests. One of the guards ran inside to tell him of their presence. The people parted as he walked through him. When he reached the pair, Brutus bowed deeply with his hands pointing back and said, "Welcome, to Kvatch! My little corner of the Empire! I am Count Brutus! You must be Lord General Theodore Adrard...." Brutus looked at the man's gut as he said this, then looked to Gracchus's and said, "And you must be Lord General Gracchus Quintus Ceno. A pleasure!" Theodore slapped his belly on the sides happily, then laughed heartily. "Actually, I'm starving, and this is my friend thirsty! Har har har!" Gracchus bowed, but it was not very low. He had little interest on this party, or getting drunk on food and drink. "Pleasure," he said simply. Brutus could tell that Gracchus' spirits weren't raised by the revelry going on, but he didn't let it phase him. It was expected. "The pleasure is all mine! Now, I know you two gentlemen are tired, so I prepared a room for the both of you in the back. Any one of my guards can point you to its direction and you may catch my Illusion trainer back there too. Master Endar, a wizard of house Telvanni! Or...." Brutus pointed a hand to one of the tables with a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth, cheeses and various fruits and many bottles of wine strewn about. "We can go stuff our faces and drink ourselves under the table, eh? And then....women!" Gracchus and Theodore expectedly split up, Theodore heading straight for the pork, fruit and wine, while Gracchus went back towards the room, weary and exhausted. Theodore instantly began engulfing food, while in between bites trying to speak to the Count. "I...*chomp* heard you were quite the partier, and I'm glad to *chomp* see that I haven't been disappointed!" Brutus eyed the crowd and picked out a spry looking young blonde breton woman who seemed to be down the bottle enough to easily influence without much trouble. Brutus's staff was channeling a charm spell around the room, so convincing wasn't very hard. He whispered in her ear and she put on a face of surprise, but a joyous one. After he was done, the woman started to laugh as she followed behind him. As he took a seat next to Theodore and started to dig in himself, the woman stood up on the table in front of him and started to strip to her under clothes, to the delight of the crowd. "Only the best for a General, sir! Oh, my dear, would you be a doll and pass that plate of lamb chops towards me and the General's way?" The woman looked to Theo and blew him a kiss before bending over showing what she had to him, then placed the plate between the two men and cheered in celebration for the deed. The men in the crowd cheered too, since she was bouncing when she cheered. Brutus took a chop in each hand and bit into them left then right as he spoke in between bites. "Yes, unlike the rest of the Empire, I don't let the state of things get to me. If you ask me, I have a duty to keep this up! Keeps the Thalmor thinking everything's peachy past our borders with us doing this so close by. They're watching...." "Oh stop it! If I wanted to here about the Thalmor, I could've stayed in the capital!" Theodore somewhat nervously glanced at the Breton woman who mad such a spectacle about giving him pork chops. Count Brutus also had other reputations, besides partying, some of which Theo didn't feel inclined to partake in. But his jovial smile returned very quickly. As he dug in the pork chops, his washed it down with a swig of wine, which he first poured into his flask. Better to be safe than sorry as far as poisonings were concerned. "Now, what other delectable delights does our kind host have to offer! The food kind, of course hehe," Theodore said with a chuckle. Brutus was enjoying the spectacle as much as he was the food, but it didn't distract him enough to be a poor host. Brutus tapped the young woman on her leg, then clapped his hands twice. "Bring us....cheese pie!" Brutus pointed a finger over to the other table where there were piping hot 'pies' which were flat circular bread shapes with melted cheese on top, twelve in total with some red tomato paste under the cheese with a layer of bread covering the whole thing. The woman complied and brought over all twelve of the strange unusual 'cheese pies'. "Eh? Whatdoya think of that, my big friend?" Theodore was unsure of how to grip the cheese pie, finally deciding to pick it up by the layer of bread around the edge. The piece tore off in a triangle shape, an he bit into the soft, cheesy goodness, causing a strand to stretch away from his mouth to the pie piece. "It's, *erhm chomp chomp* delicious! This-" Theodore tried to say "piece of, but it came out sounding more like "piece-a." "It's marvelous! Fantastic! So good...." Theodore finished it off, then ate two more of the pie pieces. Brutus smiled in delight and said, "You'd never guess where I picked up the recipe. A wise man once said...." Brutus stood up on the table and picked up a pie. "Cheese! For everyone!" With that, Brutus chucked a pie at some dancing Imperial woman, then Brutus picked up another one and chucked it at some drunk old man, who thought someone nearby did it. He punched the nearest person to him, which was a big orc man. The orc too was drunk and didn't let the man's age hold him back. "Now that's entertainment!" proclaimed Brutus who sat back down and dove into the pies. Theodore laughed at the fight, then leaned back in his chair. "My my, that was delicious! What's sorts of strange desserts do you have cooked up for us tonight?" Brutus had tried to keep up with the general in eating, but Theodore was too much for him. Determined now to out eat the general, Brutus said, "Okay, my Breton friend. You can eat, but lets see how you do with...chaurus pie! Freshly delivered from Skyrim and killed right in here! And those black beauties come straight from the hold of Solitude, the maddest hold in all the wonderfully barbaric land! Think you can out eat me, general?" Theodore belched loudly, preparing himself and his stomach for the challenge "As if you would ever stand a chance!" Theodore wasn't really that sure though, he had never liked Chaurus pies, or the creatures themselves. Vile and repulsing, he thought. "Alright, my friend..." Brutus had the same woman fetch them the dessert from the other table again, but this time shooed her away so that Brutus could concentrate.The pie was covered in cream and cherries, and the chaurus pie itself was stuffed with apples and blueberries. Modifications of Brutus. Brutus wasted no time in digging in, bringing shame to every last Imperial who's ever been born from his terrible terrible tablemanners. In between bites, Brutus said, "Now, I know *munch*, you said that you didn't want to *munch* hear about Thalmor, but why?" The cherries and cream Theodore swallowed down easily, then began to devour the rest of the pie, which, to his surprise and happiness, went down very easily because of Brutus' additions. While eating Theodore thought about the question, finally formulating an answer. "It's party *chomp* time! I'll gladly talk politics *chomp* tomorrow, or any other time, but I'd rather just celebrate being alive and wel right now!" Theodore continued eating, putting away one, two pies then four and five, hastily shoving the food down as quickly as possible. Brutus' face was going red with trying to keep up with Theo's pace, but he did his best and performed admirably, only being half a pie behind. Pointing a finger across the room, Brutus said, "It's party time for them too! See the woman over there? Breton with red hair?" Theodore, seeing that Brutus wasn't far behind, upped his already staggeringly fast pace. It was unfair, really, as Brutus has no way of knowing that Theodore has won several eating competitions in High Rock, holding the record for most steaks eaten in a day. "What about that her?" he asked, somewhat confused. Brutus looked at the Breton with eyes of lost hope, and simply dropped his piece of pie and frowned in defeat. "What a wonderful illusion you have. I thought you were Lord General Theodore Adrard, when in fact you are the world eater." He smiled when he said this and tapped him on the shoulder to show he was joking. "That, my friend is a Thalmor spy. I found her out last time she was at one of these parties. I charmed her with a spell when I suspected her, then made her tell me everything. Afterwards I got her so drunk, she didn't remember a thing! So she's still here spying occasionally. They want to know what a Telvanni Wizard is doing in Cyrodiil. They think we have Dunmer allies." Theodore threw his hands up in victory, then belched loudly and leaned back, relaxed and happy, though only for a few moments. "World eater I am not, but pie eater I am! I guess now is a good time to tell you that this isn't my first competition. Har har, it was fun though!" Theodore re-inspected the woman, frowning slightly. "So have you fed her false information? Or just let her try and find out why a Dunmer wizard is here? Why is he here after all? I say that purely out of curiosity, obviously," he said genuinely. "Ah you cheeky bastard, well played. No, I don't give her false info. The Thalmor unfortunately are too smart for that to work for too long and I'd be found out. No, I let her come occasionally, thinking there's something to be found. As long as they think so, they don't try and assassinate me. As for Endar, he simply needs a place to do research, and I need a tutor for Illusion." "A student of the magics eh? I'm sure my friend Mister Ceno will enjoy that, being a battlemage and all. Hmm, I wonder if any have penetrated my abode...undoubtedly so. I my have to root them out when I return. But enough of politics! Lets continue this party!" Theodore drank the rest of his flask of wine, but waited for his host to take the lead. "Aha, yes! Let's show 'em how we live in Cyrodiil!" Brutus stood up on the table now and grabbed two bottles of fine wine and started guzzling it down at the same time. The people in the hall cheered as he downed them and they too started drinking more as well. If the Thalmor were looking for evidence of the Empire's weakening, which wouldn't be too hard for them to find, no one could say Brutus provided it. *** Gracchus had, upon arrival, headed off to his room. He unpacked his things, stowing them in the chest, then wandered the halls for several minutes. He discovered the library, a study of sorts, among other things, when he found Master Dremin's room, who Brutus said was a Telvanni wizard. Interested, Gracchus knocked on the door, hoping he was home. Several seconds passed, then the door opened just a bit, and in front of Gracchus stood a short Breton woman, probably in her mid to late twenties and wearing commoner clothing. She stood in the crack of the door, preventing him from seeing much of the room. "Can I help you?" When she spoke, it wasn't with the mannerly tone that one would expect from a castle servant or the formality of a noble. There was actually a hint of annoyance in her voice. Gracchus didn't notice she wasn't similar to most servants, him having dealt with few, He was born a commoner, after all. "Hello, madam, I am General Gracchus Ceno. I'm actually looking for Master Endar Dremin, is he in?" Gracchus asked. He had changed into finer, yet comfortable clothes, like one might where to a friends house party. His red tunic with gold lacing was paired with black pants and gold lacing, along with his black boots and gold buckles. He also wore his Imperial cape, red and gold as well. Elara recognized the name well enough. She turned and looked back in the room. "Are you?" No response could be heard from Gracchus's end. Master Endar had long since sound proofed his room with a range of spells. Nothing he said in the room could be heard outside unless he wished. Elara turned back to Gracchus. "The party's in the main hall, and several of the other wings. Mister Drenim isn't looking to partake in your festivities. Nor is he offering any." Gracchus frowned, but figured he had better eat least explain why he was here. "Actually, that's why I'm here. I have no interest in partaking in the festivities either, and would rather enjoy more...civilized company. But, if he wishes me to leave, I shall." Gracchus turned his back to leave, deciding to go back the castle library. "Alright then." The door closed as Gracchus walked away. However, Gracchus hadn't traveled far when the door opened again, and the woman hurried down the hall after him. "Hold up! Mister Drenim just asked if you were the General that was in Skyrim several months ago." Gracchus smirked a little before he turned around, but smiled kindly once he did. "Yes, yes I am. I've been back just a few months. Why?" She shrugged. "I don't know. He just said that if you were, to let you in. If I had a guess, I'd say he's interested in something you did while there." "Haha, I'll take that. If you would escort me in..." Gracchus motioned with his hand for her to go first, then proceeded to follow behind, entering the room. Endar's back was turned to the door when they came in. He stood facing the opposite wall, studying four large open scrolls he had hanging from it. Each one had a different combination of symbols and runes on it, with the largest having a sketch of the dead Khajiit from earlier as well as a single column of text that was virtually unreadable. Endar was almost finished making the necessary changes to insure that next time he wouldn't kill his subject. His right hand glowed with a magical blue aurora as he rearranged the runes on one of the scrolls. He didn't acknowledge it when Gracchus entered the room. He'd meant to, but his mind immediately went back to his work before he had time to turn around, and he quickly forgot. Gracchus stared at the scrolls, certain runes recognizable while others where completely foreign. Had his classes at the Arcane University not been so long ago, he might have been able to decipher more. Eventually, he gave up on trying to read them, instead focusing on the wizard himself. He seemed...oblivious to Gracchus entrance, odd considering he had asked for him. So Gracchus watched, and waited, knowing better than to disturb a man at work. Hopefully, the Dunmer would realize he was no longer alone soon enough. Endar confined working with the scrolls for another couple of minutes, then casted a spell on the largest one, making the writing on it briefly turn blue. He turned around and crossed the room to his desk. He noticed Gracchus as he passed, but didn't stop moving, he opened one of his tomes and began to write in it. Without looking up, he finally spoke. "Hello General. You wanted to see me?" "I figured more civilized conversation could be had here than at the party, regardless of the subject matter. It seems you're busy though, and I doubt how useful I could be in the matter. If I need come back later, I can leave you to your work," Gracchis said, as he watched the mage write in the massive book. "I am busy." said Endar as he wrote. "You won't often find me when I'm not." He closed the book and picked out another one, then began flipping to the page he desired. "But at the moment, I am considerably less so than usual. I would finish recording my findings, and then, if you are still here when I'm done, I would ask a question of you." "Then stay and wait I shall. Perhaps you have some menial task I could perform, to help pass the time as well as help you out?" Gracchus asked. He was honestly interested in the man, Endar being, hundreds of years old, a mage who seemed to be very knowledgeable in the arcane, and just and interesting character. Endar looked up from his book and for the first time, met Gracchus's eyes. "You wouldn't happen to know what an Alfiq is would you?" "The Khajit subspecies correct? They look like common cats, very small, and I believe the author of Mixed Unit Tactics mentions them, along with that they might be spellcasters," Gracchus said. He has spent some time in Leyawiin in the past, and learned a great deal about Khajit while there. Gracchus had also almost memorized Mixed Unit Tactics, it being a favorite of his. "Good. Some of my most recent work has involved them. I was going to ask you to go fetch one for me, but that may take considerably more time than you are willing to spend. However, I am interested in this Mixed Unit Tactics book you mention. I've never read it myself, but if it mentions the Alfiq, I would like to take a look at it. Go to the library and bring me a copy. That should be easy enough." Gracchus turned to Elara, thinking that maybe Endar was speaking to her. His face wrinkled up when he realized the "go fetch" was directed at him, but nodded before heading back to the library. The book was easy enough to find, sorta by title on the "M" section, so he grabbed it off the shelf and hurried back to the master wizard. "Here it is, Mixed Unit Tactics. Enjoyable read. You'll find the Alfiq in the Khajit-Bosmer conflict chapter." "Ah, good." Endar took the book and sat it on his desk. He was glad that the General had mentioned this to him, as he never would have suspected that information on the Alfiq could be found in a military strategy book. He studied Gracchus for a few seconds, making note of his age. "I have recently heard a few things about you. Things that I very much enjoyed to hear of. You see, politics bore me, and I take little interest major world affairs, but there is an exception. That is when they involve the Thalmor. You are the General who turned on them there, correct?" Gracchus nodded, but frowned slightly. The events in Skyrim still brought forth sour memories. "That I am. Right place, right time really. What is it you want to know?" "Details, General! That is all I want to know." Endar looked more interested in this than Elara was used to. Endar truly despised the Thalmor. "Did you speak with their leader? How did they react to being turned on?" "While I was there, two Mer led them. One was named Osgumund, who was eventually recalled to the Imperial City, and Valindil, an evil bastard who enjoyed torturing his victims. Osgumund was a decent Altmer if there ever was one, even training some of my battlemages to use Elven magic. He seemed to be not as fanatical as Valindil. Not a lot more I can say about him, he left fairly early. Valindil was a monster. The Nord leader, Baldur Red-Snow, would have died under the Altmer's torture had I not intervened. He got his though, as he was captured, killed, had his entrails pulled out and him for all to see. After that, I used his capture to inspire the Thalmor troops, who lead the vanguard once we broke the walls of Falkreath down. Then they became trapped between our two armies, Nord on one side and Imperial on the other. Those that escaped were mowed down by my archers, who I'd hidden in the trees along the only road out. A few were left in Helgen and a fort, from when I convinced their leader to use his forces to attack them. It weakened their overall strength, making the betrayal easier. Anything more specific you wish to know?" Gracchus asked, glad the Dunmer had actually taken an interest in him. Endar thought over what he'd been told. "So you tricked all of them?" He actually chuckled, which was something he virtually never did. "That just goes to show their misplaced arrogance. There's nothing I hate more than someone who can't live up to their overlarge ego. No, I don't think there is any more you can tell me. That was more than satisfying to hear the details of." Endar looked around for a minute, then realized that he really wasn't in the middle of any projects at the moment. None that he could carry out here at least. He decided that he liked this Gracchus Ceno, if for no other reason than because he'd spited the Thalmor on a large scale, and that he'd humor the man's desire for "civilized conversation" if that is what he still wanted. Endar wasn't big on small-talk though, and wasn't quite sure how to start. Thankfully for him, Elara spoke up. "So you're traveling with that Lord from High Rock right? where are you two heading?" Gracchus smiled when Endar laughed, thankful to have broken the ice. "I'm headed to Sentinel, in Hammerfell, to try and work out an alliance, or at least something like an alliance between us and the Redguards. Theodore is going home, to Camlorn, in High Rock. His father in law, the king, is dying, sadly," Gracchus responded, happy his presence here was not perceived as an annoyance. Endar raised a brow. "You wouldn't happen to be taking a ship from Anvil would you?" "That was the plan, although we haven't really discussed it. We may decide to take the scenic route. Why?" Endar turned and opened a drawer on his desk, shuffling through it until he procured a thin leather-bound book. It had a button seal holding it closed. "I am much too busy to go there myself, and I like to keep Elara around for convienence. If you could take this to the castle and give it to the mage named Borkar, I could pay you well. You're a battlemage, correct? I have a spell tome you can keep if you'll make the delivery." "I'd be glad to. I'm always looking to add to my skillset. The castle in Anvil, correct?" Gracchus grabbed the leather bound book from the mage, sliding it in his pocket. "Correct. And don't read it! It's for Borkar's eyes only. Now..." he began shuffling through another drawer. "...is there a particular school or spell you're interested in?" "I won't," Gracchus chuckled. As Endar shuffled through the drawer, Gracchus thought hard. "I'm fairly skilled at restoration and destruction, so what do you have in those schools?" Endar frowned and closed the drawer, then began shuffling again. "I should have... Here we are!" He pulled out a fairly thin, old looking gray book that had a burning hand on the cover, as well as a few arcane symbols. "If you can comprehend what's in it, this tome should teach you how to conjure up a fire storm. It's considered by most to be a master level spell, so if it's too hard, maybe you can still sale the book for some coin at least." Gracchus gingerly held the book, slowly flipping through its pages. Some of it was simple, other times it was almost impossible to read, but Gracchus knew he had enough time on this trip to decipher it. "It'll do just fine, Master Wizard. Thank you very much. And I'll take good care of your book," he said, patting his shirt pocket. "Very good." Endar sat for a moment, not quite sure where to go from there. "Is there anything else?" Gracchus was apparently a skilled, or at least confident, spellcaster to be sure. Though he didn't seem to have much interest Endar's own work, so the elf wasn't quite sure what to talk about when it came to "civilized discussion". In all the business over the errand and just general chit chat, Gracchus hadn't realized how late it was. "Well, I think I'll try and get some sleep tonight. Don't worry, I'll deliver your book, safe and sound," he said, patting the pocket the book was in. With that he bowed, turned, an left, heading straight back to his room. Once there, he undressed, leaving him in only his loincloth, and crawled into the silken sheets, drifting into sleep almost instantly. Once Gracchus had headed off, Endar sat still for several moments longer, still trying to picture the looks on the Thalmor's faces when they first realized that their "puppets" had turned on them. He allowed these thoughts to entertain him for several minutes more before getting out another journal to once again begin writing. He'd forgotten Elara was even in the room until she spoke up, breaking the near-silence he'd been enjoying. "You know, you really need to learn how to socialize a bit. You know, like hold down a normal conversation with someone other than me an' the Count." Endar didn't even look up. "And you need to learn that you're a stewardess and not a councilor. It's late, you can leave now." She got the hint. Elara nodded and gathered a few of her things and headed out toward her own room down the hall. She'd be up for several hours more, spending a good part of the night lying awake on her bed reading some of Endar's discarded notes. Meanwhile, the wizard himself worked in his journals and finished writing two spell tomes. When he was done, and began putting away the tomes, he noticed a thin, gray book that he could've sworn wasn't supposed to be there. "That's odd..." he said. This book was the one he had intended for Gracchus to deliver to Anvil. He considered going out and finding the General, but that seemed like far too much work. "Oh well." Borkar can wait. Whatever it was I sent, he can return it after he realizes the mistake. Endar headed to the wall with all the scrolls, and began the tedious nightlong task of copying them. I would be well into the morning before his work was finished. ** Across the palace, Theo was quieting down, the party fading off as the night wore on. He conversed and drank, but was feeling rather tired himself. Brutus however was unaffected. At least not by sleep. Brutus had two Nord women who were almost a head taller than he was around his arms, but he needed the extra size, considering he could barely walk in a straight line. Heading to the back of the palace with the giggling women, he turned to Theo and said, "Come on, T-theow! The...the party. It's not oveh...yet." The women were drunk themselves, but handling it a lot better than he was. One of them laughed a little more than what was considered necessary at what Brutus was hinting at. Theo wordlessly followed, but once the count got out of sight, he broke off and went towards his room, were he sunk in a leather chair. The alcohol was overpowering, and he passed out within a minute. Brutus didn't notice Theo disappearing on him. He was too busy with his latest acquaintances. When they arrived in the room, Brutus pushed the two onto the bed and had them strip. When they did, Brutus, with great difficulty, started to strip as well. When he finally removed his clothes he said, "And now I shall waggle my maggot in...in." Brutus gagged, throwing up in his mouth, but he kept it in, barely. "Now, like I was....sayi-" Before Brutus could finish, he passed out and fell on the bed, snug in between his two disappointed guests, who too soon fell asleep along with him.

Lorgar Grim-Maw Afternoon Imperial City Lorgar walked through the filthy streets of the waterfront district, he had acquired a rowboat from a fishing village near the imperial city, and used the boat to reach the looming capital of the Empire. One could argue decaying capital of a decaying empire, but that was besides the point . Lorgar grunted at the memories of the last few days, as he saw all sorts of horror. During his travels from Bruma to the Imperial city, he got a taste of the decay spreading like filth. The roads were infested with refugees in the Bruma countie, and when there was refugee's, the roads were infested with bandits, many of whom were imperial deserters. Lorgar has slayed dozens of bandits in his travels threw Crydoili. The poverty levels were insane, most likely due to the large increase of tax money now going to the imperial legion and the imperial navy. In war time, civilians suffered as much as the soldiers. The poverty in this district was the worst of all, if you didn't live on the streets, you lived in shacks made from wood, and the imperial watch in this area was highly corrupt. I'm continuously surrounded by filth and death... Lorgar himself was clad in chain mail, along with a heavy cloak, he bore his great sword Faltsverd on his back, along with two knives and a short-sword on his belt. He wore leather gloves and boots. His pale blue left eye remained open, but his unnatural red eye was forcibly closed. It would attract to much unwanted attention. Lorgar needed to remain a shadow. He crossed into an alleyway, intent on taking a short cut to another street, when he heard a familiar feminine voice, "Halt major." Lorgar turned his head around to face the owner of the familiar voice. Raven black haired filled his vision, along with stunning violet eyes. The same eyes of his best friend Marius Imperius. The female was flanked by four men clad in black leather and black plates, with the symbol of the ever open eye on there chest pieces. The Pentiulas Occultus had found him. Lorgar sighed , as he drew his greatsword in a single motion, letting the blade's steel be shadowed by the alleyway's darkness. He sadly muttered, "Lieutenant-Commander Imperius. you really intend on taking me on?" She quietly responded. "I have orders to eliminate you, Major." She continued, "I follow orders regardless of my personal feelings and the morality of the order. If we were talking about morality, then I would be perfectly fine with killing you." Though Lorgar didn't show any emotion, those words cut into him like blades. She raised her hand, and signaled her soldiers to proceed. They quickly drew there Imperial swords, Marie herself drew out a two-handed claymore from her back. With a flash of black , the team of agents charged forward. Lorgar positioned himself, and wielded his greatsword in one-hand, while he drew his short-blade with his remaining hand. The first of the agents reached him, a very large and opposing orc. Unlike the rest of the agents, he was equipped with a massive greataxe. Using the forward momentum, he swung his axe downward as he charged. What a fool... In a sprint of supernatural speed, Lorgar appeared with a in-human dash behind the orc agent, whose face filled with disbelief, as Lorgar jabbed his shortblade into his exposed neck, causing him to fall lifelessly onto the ground. The next two agents reached him, a dark elf and a Breton who were spell blades, the dark elf prepared to use a fireball and casted it, realizing too late that Lorgar at the last second, in a burst of speed and strength, had put the Breton into a arm lock, effectively using him as a human shield. The fireball impacted into the Breton's chest, causing him to scream out in pain and his body to fall limp, Lorgar let go of the now dead agent, and charged at the Dark elf, whose face filled with terror and shock, "That's impossible-" The mans words were interrupted as Lorgar thrusted his greatblade into the elf's ribcage, the force was so strong that his sword ended up going threw the elf and impaling him onto the alleyway wall. The final remaining agent was behind Lorgar, and slashing at him with his imperial gladius, with lighting reaction times, Lorgar parried the blow with his shortblade, ripped out his greatsword from the dark elf corpse and wall, and delivered a onehanded thrust into the man's arm, causing him to drop his sword and yelp in pain. Lorgar ended it quickly with a stab to the blood vein on his neck. Forty seconds... Lorgar was covered in blood, but hardily sweating as he looked back to the carnage he then inflicted. He then turned his head to the Pentiulas Occultus officer, and said, "Your men are dead-" Lorgar was cut off by Marie closing the distance between them and slashing her claymore in a downward strike. Unlike the orc who was clumsy and slow, Marie was fast and precise. Lorgar brought up his greatsword and shortblade to block the blow, locking there weapons. As they struggled, Lorgar pleaded, "Lieutenant-Commander, come to your senses. I don't want to do this." Marie ignored him, as she jumped backwards, unlocking there swords. She screamed in fury as she slashed her blade diagonally at Lorgar while pressing him, Lorgar used his greatsword to block Marie's slash, before saying, "Listen to me Marie, I don't want to kill you." The officer didn't listen, as she slashed at him again. Lorgar's face filled with pure Melancholy, and he said without a hint of emotion, "Then you give me no choice." Lorgar parried the attack with his shortblade, before sidestepping in a flash of speed, Marie only had time to hear the voice of her former commanding officer, and her uncles best friend, "I'm sorry." Lorgar buried his greatsword into her side. The female agent stood there, with a look of shock, as the nord ripped the blade from the side of her body, spraying Marie and himself in a blanket of crimson blood. She body fell to the ground, unmoving and not breathing. Lorgar just stood there for a few moments, before kneeling onto the ground and closing the young officers violet eyes. The nord sheathed his two drawn blades, and left the scene, I'm sorry.

Topal Sea, south of Elsweyr morning The coin was the real problem, Mithnar reflected. He'd never met a sailor who could see too much coin, but now he knew there was such a thing. The coin bothered him a lot more than the line of clouds on the northern horizon. His merchant cog Evening Star churned along on a northward course across the Topal Sea, bearing a heavy cargo of foodstuffs, wine, weapons, and chests of gold and silver bound for Senchal on Elsweyr's southern coast. Mithnar, the captain, had been a sailor all his some hundred years. Before he was born, all the shipping companies had been nationalized by the Thalmor ruling council, but only during the wars of conquest had it mattered much to him. The Dominion was once again on war footing, however, and most of his cargo was meant to supply troops gathering in Elsweyr and Valenwood. The chests of coin, he assumed, were for paying mercenaries. It was because of these chests that he'd been assigned two dozen soldiers as guards, given a navy cutter as escort ship, and forced to bring along a justiciar as political officer. The justiciars were zealots, theoretically not corruptible, and only they could be trusted with such a task. The justiciar, Hyardil, spent the first few hours questioning Mithnar and his crew about their family histories and political inclinations. It was obvious that he thought this task beneath him, but was using the opportunity to sniff out unworthies. It was a relief, then, when the two ships hit a squall. The justiciar looked up at the sky as if it, too, might be a traitor to the Dominion, but when his robes started getting soaked through, Hyardil went below into the cargo hold. Even as they were battered with tropical winds, Mithnar enjoyed the peace and quiet. This was a small storm and would soon pass. For the moment he could just be a sailor again, just do his work and forget the endless demands of politics and wars. ** The clouds bothered Tactitus as well, his brow furrowed as he stared off from his position on the aft castle. His helmsman, a much older sailor with years of experience behind the wheel quietly hummed to himself, the waves from kicked up by the storm bothering him little, if at all. Spread across the deck, his sailors busied themselves, stowing away things that might fall off in the rougher seas. The archers huddled together, sitting on barrels and crates, and were unhappy to give up their seats to the sailors. Some arguing ensued, but eventually the makeshift chairs were given up and stored below decks. The battlemages watched and chuckled at the conversation from their perch on the fore castle. The two groups mostly kept to themselves, the archers usually playing cards while the mages read and studied, occasionally playing games as well. The flotilla had been at sea for two days now, the Tempest accompanied by the dromons Minotaur and Relentless. Also along were two galleys, smaller versions of the dromons, and a caravel, which looked graceful next to the lumbering of the rowing ships. Up ahead lighting flashed from cloud to cloud, and several seconds later thunder boomed at them from the south. That will be fun to navigate. At least we'll get to see how these landies handle a little storm. Tacitus thought. The Altmer ship was riding low due to its heavy load, so its crew had some bailing to do. Mithnar hoped that the justiciar was soaking in bilge, too, but he knew better. He did his best to keep his ship in good repair even though every plank and joust had to be justified to the requisitions office. The cutter, small and fast, just bounced along the waves, though Mithnar saw its crew bailing, as well. He was at least grateful for their presence. Raiders knew better than to get too close to Alinor proper, but with the imperial navy taken off to Skyrim for most of the year, approaching the mainland was risky. Pirates had gotten bolder. It was ironic that they depended on the "inferior" empire to help keep the waters clear for shipping, and you could never say so aloud, but Mithnar kept to himself anyway. The very sight of the cutter would keep off the meaner sort of pirates. As the squall cleared, Mithnar sent a lookout to scurry up the rigging. He was mainly worried that they'd been blown off course. If you got too close to Black Marsh, even a navy cutter wouldn't be an assurance. The lookout scanned the horizon with a spyglass, stopped suddenly, adjusted, then called down, "Ships approaching from the northwest, Captain! Looks like four... no, five." "What are their colors?" Just as Mithnar spoke, the justiciar appeared at his shoulder like an unwelcome shadow, and also waited to hear the answer. From crows nest atop the Tempest, the lookout shouted down, hands cupped around his mouth, "Enemy ships! Flags are Thalmor!" The High Admiral smiled, a rare sight indeed. Our efforts aren't fruitless after all. This shall be fun indeed, Tactius thought happily. "Head south by south west," he commanded the helmsman. He then turned to the signal man, who stood at the ready with a red and white flag. "Signal to the other ships to head south by south west," Tactius ordered. The signal man launched into a serious of flag movements, and all ships aligned themselves with the Tempest. The flotilla had its course set right for the enemy. *** "Imperial navy banners!" came the shout from the lookout above Mithnar's head. The captain was surprised, but there was no immediate alarm. "What's their bearing?" he called back. By then his keen elven eyesight caught the ships on the horizon, a cluster of dark specks on the still roiling, dark blue sea. The lookout hesitated, adjusted his glass, and kept watching. Finally he said, "They appear to be turning, Captain. Turning.. south. They're heading towards us." "They could be spies," Hyardil sneered. "We should intercept them." Mithnar's eyebrows lifted. "Are you mad? With what we've got on board?" "We're official Dominion business. They have no right to interfere." The captain ignored the blissfully ignorant statement and called up to his lookout. "Still bearing on us?" "Yes, Captain. They look to be intercepting. A big one and some galleys." Five ships, imperial navy, too far out from the coast to be a simple patrol. Mithnar pulled out his spyglass and had a look, then lowered it and glanced back at the cutter. Her captain was out on the deck with spyglass up, too. Suddenly the cutter captain lowered his glass and appeared to shout an order, and the little ship began to come about, heading back towards home. The cowards were running. With a calm that surprised even himself, Mithnar turned and ordered his crew to begin tossing the cargo overboard. He could not trust that this imperial fleet was on polite business. The only chance they had to outrun them was to offload. Scurrying, the crew began to toss barrels of wine and crates of food over the side of the ship. Hyardil was sputtering. "This is property of the Dominion military! Stop that! Captain, I order your men to cease this AT ONCE. Are you all cowards, wetting your britches at the sight of a few human ships on the horizon? Stop, I tell you!" The mage was still shouting at the crew when Mithnar signaled his first mate. They grabbed Hyardil both at the same time, the first mate tying the justiciar's hands quickly while Mithnar looped rope around his waist and lashed him to the rail. By now the mage's face was crimson. "You will die for this, traitor!" Spittle flew into Mithnar's face, which he ignored. A pair of soldiers came up from the hold and began to draw their blades, but were tackled by the burly sailors they despised as their inferiors. The others who followed stood down, watching helplessly as the sailors pushed past them with loads of cargo. Satisfied, Mithnar ran to the steering and began to turn the ship due east. If the imperials kept coming on, they would never make it back to Alinor, nor to Elsweyr. The Altmer was taking a desperate gamble. On the mangrove coasts of Black Marsh, no one was safe, not even big imperial carracks and galleys. Especially not them. ** "They're turning...east captain...and it appears they are dunking cargo," the first mate Langley said. Tacitus saw the same through his looking glass, the crates and bales bobbing in the rough sea. Likely lightening themselves. East...towards Black Marsh? Hoping pirates will get us, Tacitus thought. "Order the Hare to move on an intercept course. Hopefully she can cut it off before it gets too close to the coast," Tacitus said partially to the signal man, and to partially to himself. He often spoke out loud, it helped him gather his thoughts. The Hare, the caravel received the signal and broke off, it being the only ship able to keep pace with the lightened cargo ship. The rest of the flotilla followed behind, aiming to intercept them right off the coast. The sailors on board gathered at the railings, before breaking off the go back to their stations. The archers and mages smiled, knowing they would get sole action after all. The crew of the Altmer ship was still bringing up crates from the cargo hold and tossing them overboard. "What about the chests?" a crewman shouted at Mithnar. The captain hesitated, then shook his head. "Not yet." If he lived through this day, he wanted to have at least a chance to be able to return home. Alternatively, if the worst came, he might be able to salvage the coin for himself, perhaps to buy his life. "Captain." Hyardil had calmed down, his voice hoarse from the earlier shouting. Mithnar considered ignoring him, but something in the mage's tone changed his mind. As he approached, Hyardil leaned against the ropes. "Let me go. I won't interfere. There are things in those chests which should not fall into enemy hands." Mithnar had assumed the spy kits were in the cutter, which was why they had run so quickly. "You fools. Load me down, send classified information and only give me a handful of guards." "The imperials hadn't been..." "Well they are now!" The captain didn't bother to soften his tone. He hesitated. "I'll let you go, but I hope you see now why we have to run. Unless you are a very powerful mage indeed, this is not a fight we can win." "Do as you think is best." Reluctantly Mithnar loosed the justiciar's bonds, then watched as Hyardil scurried down into the hold. "Captain! They're trying to flank us!" Mithnar glanced over at the smaller ship that had separated from the other imperial vessels and was arcing around to try to get ahead of them. The winds were variable, still tossed around by the storm, and the imperial ship had the advantage of rowers. Only a little further, however, and they could catch the currents that swept around the southern coast Mithnar turned his ship slightly southeast, and began to scan the horizon again. This time he was not looking at the imperial ships, but towards the east, for any sign of Argonian raiders. ** Tacitus calmly gripped the banister of the aft castle, watching with patience as the vessel flew further towards the coast. "Sir, the Thalmor cutter is completely out of sight now," Langley reported. "Good, it can't flank us now. Too far away." Tacitus starred longer thinking heavily. "Any orders, sir?" Langley asked timidly. He was afraid of interrupting the High Admiral, even with a pertinent question. "Yes....be on the lookout for any Argonian vessels, specifically any pirates or raiders. And order those galleys to kick it up a notch, I want that ship caught." The last command was relayed by the flag man, waving his arms like a lunatic in a frenzy of signals. The Altmer captain scanned the horizon. It was depressingly devoid of other vessels, with a distant haze the only indication that they were anywhere near the coast. The cog was moving noticeably faster now, but not fast enough. "Arm yourselves!" he shouted at the crew. They might still be able to outmaneuver the imperial ship, but he didn't want to take any chances. Suddenly there were shouts and smoke began to drift up from the cargo hold. Cursing, Mithnar ran to the stair and met Hyardil running the other way. "What happened?" "I had to burn them. It caught...something..." The justiciar was wavering on panic. "By the ancestors! Why aren't you down there casting some frost spells? Never mind." Mithnar ran down into the hold and helped the crew douse the flames, which had caught on some broken crates and rope, and fortunately not on the ship itself. By the time he got back to the deck, he was forced to turn the ship south again to avoid the imperial vessel. Then the wind flagged. And the other imperial ships kept coming on behind. Mithnar began to contemplate surrender. The justiciars had circulated stories about elves being carved up and left to die slowly with their organs exposed, their eyes put out, skin flayed from their bodies. He had never been beyond the borders of Elsweyr and Valenwood, and couldn't tell if this was truth or falsehood. Old-timers said the humans weren't that bad, but a lot had changed since the days before the elves began to fight back. The thought that not just he but his men would suffer such a fate steeled Mithnar again. It wasn't over, not yet. If the wind was going north, then so was he. The Altmer turned the ship suddenly north-northeast, hoping that the imperial ship had enough momentum that it would not be able to correct in time. It would be very close. ** The Hare turned hard, angling its main triangle sail to catch the winds. It's rowers went ever onward, driving the ship toward the new course the cog was on. It went past where the cog had been, but not far, looping around so it ran parallel on a northeastern course. Meanwhile, the rest of the flotilla changed their course as well, the galleys speeding ahead of the three other ships. They were trying to cut off any route towards the northwest the merchant ship could take. The other ships went straight from behind, directly trailing the cog. Tacitus told Langley to bring up the battlemages, who jogged up the steps in anticipation for an assignment. "I want you to amplify my voice, all of you at once." The mages cast an alteration spell, simple sound altering one, and Tacitus' voice boomed over the sea. "SURRENDER NOW, AND YOU WON'T BE INJURED! ALL WE WANT IS YOU'RE CARGO, HANDED OVER PEACEFULLY!" A likely story, Mithnar thought, cursing. When the wind shifted, he turned east again. The ships were set to crash, but he hoped it would be a glancing blow and maybe even break some of their oars and slow the little galley down, assuming it also didn't tear a hole in the Evening Star's hull. "Archers!" the Altmer shouted. "To the starboard!" It was Hyardil's place to command the crew now, but he was clinging to the rigging, soaked from spray and white as the beaches of Firsthold. They had only a few archers, though these had many years of practice among them. They drew, and as the two ships neared each other, fired in the direction of the imperial ship. A moment later they were pitched off their feet, however, as the two ships careened together with a crack of wood. One of the Altmer sailors went overboard, screaming. Mithnar had braced for the impact, recovered, and sent his first mate running to the cargo hold to look for signs of breach. ** Several soldiers went down from the arrow fire, and a couple more over the side when the ships collided. "Curses!" Tacitus said through gritted teeth as he watched from afar. His spyglass swung over the hull of the Hare, and he sighed from relief as no holes were present, allow some damage was evident. "Signal to return fire. Return fire!" Tacitus yelled, furious the ship hand't just surrendered. "Damn them, damn then all." The rest of the flotilla continued on their course. Galleys providing no escape from the west, carrack from the south, and the caravel limping along the west, oars damaged but afloat, and still sailing. Mithnar's first mate came running to report that the hold was taking on some water, but remained intact. Grimly the Altmer sailor looked back just in time to see the archers on the imperial ship taking aim. "Down!" he shouted, just as the volley hit them. An arrow whipped past his cheek, leaving a bloody gash, and several men went down, screaming. It was better to die this way, fighting, than tortured and humiliated- or so he told himself. There were no good choices this day. They had hit the southern current and the boat was moving along, but the imperial ships had not given up. Mithnar felt a crackle in the air and saw Hyardil calling down lightning on the pursuer. "Finally," the sailor grumbled. He scanned the eastern horizon again, and then he saw it. A smudge of black, and then another and another. Scaleclaw raiders. At any other time, he would have dreaded the sight, but his hope was that the fat imperial ships he was drawing toward them would be more tempting. "Come on, you miserable lizards! Hurry!" The ship was not going as fast as it should in the sweep of the current. It began to list to starboard, as the crew trying to bail water in the hold failed to hold out the sea. ** "Sir, reports from the Hare indicate they are clear to continue their course. They also said raiders on the horizon, Argonians probably," Langley informed Tacitus. Of course, the actual signals has been more along the lines of "Enemy ships: Damaged but sailable," while the rest was embellishment on the first mates' part. Tacitus watched the caravel lurched onward from the oars that remained, while every so often lightning cracked across from the Thalmor ship. Mages Tacitus seethed, as lightning struck an archer, disintegrating him. The admiral lowered the glass, and turned to both Langley and the flag man, who's arms must have been tired by now. "Signal the Hare to continue returning fire, and if the cog continues towards the pirates, to peel off at the last second. No sense in sending them in by themselves. I intend to capture our prize, though, not let it be stolen." Still the imperial vessels came on! They must have seen the raiders by now, with their spyglasses with not their inferior eyesight. Mithnar's crew had seen them, too, and were starting to quail. A man jumped overboard, out of his mind with fear. Another volley of arrows assailed them and this time Mithnar himself went down, struck in his thigh. To his credit, Hyardil was now casting wildly, and was berating the other crew to not let the humans win the day. It was futile. Mithnar's first mate was dead, but his steward was experienced enough to see how it was. Climbing over dead bodies and slipping on the mixture of gore and seawater on the deck, the steward somehow found a white flag and began to hoist it next to the Dominion eagle. Hauling himself up the side of the railing with a groan of pain, Mithnar looked bleakly out at the Argonian raiders. Their ships had stopped. Perhaps they were not any more confident of their abilities against the imperials than his own escort cutter had been. Mithnar had never felt such a desolation of failure. He was but a simple merchant sailor, but he had outlived raider attacks, storms, and sea monsters that would make the justiciars themselves quake with fear. Now he was to be prisoner of the empire that those justiciars insisted was on its knees. He would never see his parents again, never sit on the quay at sunset, never have a wife or children to come home to. Then he heard a noise. The ship made cracks and groans, and there were screams from the cargo hold where those without weapons had taken refuge. Out of the corner of his eye, Mithnar saw a black figure slip over the port rail, lithe as the surf on a smooth beach. The Argonian raiders had not given up the chase. They didn't need to ram or board another vessel from above. They could sink it, and take the booty from the sea floor at their leisure. More scaleclaws came over the side of the ship, massed Hyardil and the others. Mithnar saw one approach him, caught the glint of a bone blade. He had only a moment to hope that the cursed imperials would suffer the same fate. Ancestors receive my spirit. ** Here comes the white flag...what is that? Tacitus thought, as he raised his spyglass to get a better look. Argonians climbed over the sides of the merchant cog, swarming like ants. Frantically, Tactitus shouted, "Signal the Hare to repel boarders, and to kill any Argonian on either ship!" The admiral turned to his mate, angry his prize was to be lost. "We have to get there, now! Get the Minotaur and the Relentless to break off and guard that ship!" The twin dromons lurched out in front of the carrack, the oar men upping their pace and surging the boats through the water. Shouts of "Row! Row! Row!" could be heard even by Tacitus, that was until the dromons got too far away, closing in on the Thalmor merchant vessel. The Evening Star was doomed, and its last crewmen bled into the waters that rose to engulf them. The heavy chests of gold and silver, still in the cargo hold, went down with its timbered remains. The Argonians went down with the ship, as well, but of course they were unconcerned about that. Satisfied that the Altmer ship was given over to the sea, they began massing the imperial pursuing ship from beneath, tearing at its timbers from underwater where the archers could not get at them. The Hare was helpless, having no way to combat the Argonians. The entire crew gathered on the top deck, hoping that help would arrive. As the ship creaked and groaned from the damage, the Minotaur arrived on the scene, saving the crew as they clambered from the caravel to the dromon. Tacitus watched as the twin ships sailed away from the sinking wreckage, leaving behind both the Thalmor merchant ship and the imperial caravel. Tacitus saw the final sinking of the both, disappointed all around. "This will not stand. Signal for the galleys to follow behind, we're going after the pirates," Tacitus ordered, angry that the battle and two ships had been lost. The battle would probably result in the loss of several live, but hopefully this would be a lesson to any other pirate clans who assumed the seas were theirs. The imperial flotilla was grouped together within a few minutes, sailing hard for the raiders. The raider ships, seeing the imperials chasing after them, left their attackers in the water and turned to run. The Argonians were in warm waters and could find their own way home, and there was ample time to return and collect the booty. The low-lying ships were fleet, and their crews not alarmed about pursuit. In fact the rowers were giving off the heady scent of bloodlust from their gills. If imperial ships wanted to follow them into the reefs and mangrove nets of their home coast, that was a bonanza they rarely saw. The lead raiding ship outpaced the others and made for a reef barrier, where the low Argonian ships would simply skim over and the heavier ships pursuing them would run aground. "Reefs ahead!" shouted the lookout, high above Tacitus' head. "Halt the advance," the High Admiral grudgingly commanded, even more unhappy than he had been earlier. The ships stopped as the Argonians sailed further and further away, until they were mere dots on the horizon. "Turn us around, it's time we head home," Tacitus told the helmsman, who gripped the wheel tightly and swung it around, as the flotilla headed northwest along the coast, until the city of Leyawiin was in sight. The mission had been a spectacular disappointment, resulting in the loss of one of their own ships, plus whatever bounty the cog held. But I had re-established the Imperial navy as a force to be reckoned with on the sea. ** Within the coming days, reports from Anvil came in, which held much better news. Having fewer pirates to deal with, the Western Fleet was running amok in the Thalmor shipping lanes, up to the point that most merchant ships now had to be escorted by several Dominion ships. As for the Eastern Fleet, the second raiding group that had been at sea when Tacitus' flotilla was had much better results, capturing a load of silver and gold along with weapons and armor, from a ship also bound for Senchal. One mission had failed, but in the long run, Tacitus knew that it was worth it.

Dales, Homunal, Witchie, Lilly Imperial City Night Laying in her bed, was the small body of Empress Dales Moitre, beside her on her nightstand was a large tea set, with a cup filled with brownish liquid. Beside the tea set, was three slices of toasted bread coated in jam. Her majesty didn't have to much of an appetite today. Her face was still quite pale, and her breathing was still labored, but she had no doubt improved since her incident yesterday. She could stand up fine once again, and she wasn't constantly tired. Regardless, her head maid, Miku, insisted she rested in bed. It was a bore. Dales slightly stirred; she couldn't spend her entire day cramped up in here. Her mood was bad enough. They say unpleasant thoughts festered in the soul until they become as blackened as the dark. I can’t believe I took my anger out on master. He has given me so much... Because of the ambiguous figure known as the "Witch King", Dales has been able to make meaning to her life, instead of wasting picking flowers and being a pawn to the dominion, she was able to liberate her people from the White-Gold Concordant. Furthermore, because of him, she was no longer a scared, little girl, she had power...true power. The feeling of control, which she had sorely lacked. It was like...honey. Sweet so sweet...yet sticky, and would bind you if you devoured it too fast. She still remembered, and dreamed of the days when her father was in complete control of her life, listening to ever order, and fearing if he would take out his frustrations on her like how he did with her mother. Those days still sent shivers down her spine, she had no one except Elan. As much as she had loved Elan, she knew Elan had the dominance in their relationship, Dales had needed Elan, not the other way around…Dales violently shook her head, I can’t be thinking like this…not now, not ever…and yet. I feel anger…I feel sorrow. This self-control, isn’t self-control…my entire life, even after I committed patricide…has been chosen for me. I’m drunk off the Illusion of control and power. Dales small fists curled into a ball, as anger filled her once again, Was everything an illusion then? My love…my love for her a fantasy. A phantom non-existing? Was it infatuation? Or…maybe Elan was usingme? I was such in such a vulnerable state…the beatings…I needed someone…who would hold my head as I wept…could she have just used me for her own ends…telling me what I wanted to hear… Nothing was making sense in her mind. A person she loved, her master, was using her as a puppet and a weapon, he forcibly bounded her soul to him. This too was an illusion brought out by magic. She was being forced to love someone again, not out of necessity like before, but out of…she didn’t now. It was an illusion, simply an illusion. If this was non existing, then could the love of her life be an illusion? Did Elan truly love her? Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see her face …her sparkling green eyes…her words. “No more crying…smile…†It haunted her still. Never leaving her mind. When she touched her many lovers…she sometimes pretended she was touching Elan. So her love was real…but was Elan’s? Did she love her? Or was she simply using her as a pawn like everyone else. Dales tiredly put her hands to her face, and started to cry. She didn’t understand anything…her mind was so clouded. She was so confused. Hopelessly lost in the dark of her mind. Nothing had gone as she envisioned. Lorgar, had betrayed her and the Empire. Tullius had betrayed her and the empire, ending up being executed for his crimes. She was distant from her people, who no doubt hated her for her constant whoring and homosexuality. The Elder Council plotted to dispose of her. The Navy didn’t trust her, and the imperial legion was divided. The Septims thrived, the Mede survived against all odds, and yet…the empire was crumbling under her pathetic, useless fingers. She was trash…not good for anything. Her father was right about her, at the end of the day, she was nothing but a scared little girl. Elan couldn’t love someone as pathetic as Dales… As Dales wept and brooded in the shadows of her room, a knock could be heard on her doorway. It was Miku, “Your majesty?†Dales quickly wiped away her tears, and cleared her shaky voice, “Yes Miku?†Dales called out, Miku responded with “You have a visitor.†The door slowly opened revealing a person in a snow white/ocean blue Kimono, with the patterns of waves and golden goldfish. She had very long, snow white hair, and eyes as deep of the Ocean. It was her close friend Homunal. She came running towards Dales with her cute, and worry filled voice, “Dales are you all right?†She said, running up to Dales bed and hugging her tightly. Dales cheeks flushed red as she said “I’m fine Nami.†Nami smiled, her innocent child-like smile as she contuied to hug her, “Then I’m glad.†Seeing her pale face,, made Dales feel much better, and her thoughts move from herself doubt and self-esteem, to Nami. Name blushed before whispering, “I love you Dales†Dales couldn’t see, but “Nami†was smiling deviously. **** This had been a lousy day. Dales poisoned, Tullius losing his head and turning traitor, Jon escaped and is still on free foot. Tullius had warned Jon and he and his forces had packed up and left in a hurry to the north. Skjari forced his army into a quick march to catch, and due to them expecting to be back at camp before dinner, they didn't have any extra weight to slow them down. About an two hours later they caught up with Jon's men. They had taken up a defensive position along the road, blocking them. They were too few to be Jon's full force and were obviously just a delay. Skjari had tried to convince them to surrender and not die for this lost cause. But they had stubbornly refused. Best option then would be to have one force rush the center while another tried to circle around their defensive position and try to catch up with Jon. But they hadn't brought any camp equipment or, more importantly, food. So it would be vital for them to catch up with Jon fast. But instead Skjari ordered the men to take up position and start bombarding Jon's men with arrows and fireballs, hoping they would charge them and leave their defensive position. Some tried to return fire with their hunting bows but most just hid behind the shields, hoping to buy Jon as much time as possible. After some time they finally gave up. The smell, screams and sight of people on fire became too much. After they had surrendered he gave them the choice to join the legion, those who did were taken back to camp for disciplining. After everyone had made their choice, those who didn't join were executed. Skjari had intended that those who didn't join would instead give up their weapons and armor, but their first refusal for surrender had changed his mind. It was too late to continue the chase now and everyone headed back to camp and when they arrived it was already dark. The men would rest and take up the chase in the morning, this time led by the new general, an imperial woman named Cecilia. Though she looked more like an ox than a woman Skjari thought. On his way back to the palace Skjari thought the day couldn't get any worse and then the rain came pouring down on him from the black cloud high above, hiding away the stars of the night sky. He put up a ward above his head to keep the rain away and opened the door to the palace. Suddenly, Platinum hair filled his vision as a person fell on him, before he could react, a voice filled his ears, "My lord, my lord!!!!?" "Get off me!" He shouted while trying to get her hair away from his face. "Forgive me." It was Lilly. Unlike usual, however, she was in the full uniform of an Pentiulas Occultus soldier, with it's dark plates and blackened leather. At her side was an ebony imperial gladius, similar to the one Tullius occasionaly used, along with four ebony knives. She brushed her hair away, as she stood up gracefully. If Witchie looked in the distance, he could see around a dozen Pentiulas Occultus soldiers running up the stairway with there blades drawn. She offered Witchie her hand, "I'll explain on the way, Dales life could be in danger." "Again?" He didn't sound that worried but instead frustrated. She sprinted towards the advancing collum of her soldiers, with Witchie following close behind, she quickly said, "I found our little Bosmer, she wasn't hard to find. She was taking orders from someone else. After a little convincing, she told us everything." She was breathing hard. "And who might that be?" He said casually as he followed with quick steps. "A certain girl with long white hair, and an affinity for Akavari Kimonos." Lilly said, letting Witchie figure out who it was. "Great, that girl." Bloody bruniik. "So what's happening now?" "That girl has been at the imperial city for six months doing who knows how much planning." She was now in the front of the group, and kicked open a doorway. "******* assassin. She's most likely a high ranking member of the Dominion Shadow Corps." She answered the mages question with haste,"Deploying three teams. The other two are waiting at the palaces entrances just in case she escapes, while the other one, us, is going to storm into the room." As you said that, her hands began to glow bright violent and pink, as some kind of conjured bow appeared, except on one end of the bow, a pink rose was visible, and the color of the bow wasn't the same. She drew the bow to her side as she continued running. "So where is she now?" He felt he already knew the answer. "Dales room." "I'll go inside. Alone." He said as he sped up and took the lead to Dales's chambers. Lilly nodded, as her form grew distant. After awhile he reached the room. The entrance had two dead people, an imperial guardsmen, and a blue-haired maid. Her form, and her face were covered in blood, and her lifeless hands were on her stomach, as if she tried to cover her wounds to attempt to stop the bleeding before she died. It was Miku's corpse. Like if my mood wasn't bad enough already. He opened the double doors slowly with both hands. The room was lightened with candles, and spacious. On her own bed, the form of Dales Moitre was sprawled out, with an ever increasing pool of blood forming on the sheets. She was stark naked with no clothes on, and he could see large amounts of sweat on her hair and body. Her eyes were closed, and you could notice the smallest, tiniest, amount of breathing. She was still alive. Standing on the edge of one of the windows, was Homunal. Her long white haired sprawled across her shoulders, and her deep blue eyes sparkling, there was a slight smile forming on her lips as she noticed the man enter the room, before he could do anything, she leaped from the edge. He quickly conjured up three wolf shaped familiars that jumped out of the window after her. Then quickly hurried to Dales as he began casting healing spells quickly, but the bleeding only slowed down to half the speed and wound almost refused to close. That bruniik had done something. Some kind of very strong magic resistant poison. His frustration almost reached it's limit as he cast the spell that took them to his home. When they arrived he felt weaker, the poison had made it much harder to teleport Dales. But now it didn't matter. He held one hand up against the crystal high up in the dome roof. A fiery beam shot down towards him and he could feel the power surge through him. Now it wasn't a question of if or when as the wound closed itself fully almost in an instant.

Tacitus Midday The River Niben, outside Bravil The waters of the Niben flowed south, headed towards the waters of Niben Bay. Tacitus stood on the aft castle of the Tempest, spyglass in hand as he surveyed the city of Bravil. The skooma lord's slum town simmered in the distance, heat wars visible from the humidity produced by the surrounding swampland. Tactius saw guards, if you could call them that, posted on the walls, while new banners depicting bloody skulls or skeletons danced from the battlements. The hastily manufactured flags were everywhere, proclaiming skooma superiority. Tacitus moved his gaze away from the city and towards the waters on its eastern edge. Several skiffs and smaller boats sat anchored at the docks, while the skooma smugglers huddled in or around them, eyeing the warship. The drug runners were so distinguished by their patches, sewed on to the jackets they wore so the poor citizens inside the city knew not to mess with them. The admiral lowered the spyglass, and turned to his first mate, Langley Civello. "Order the battlemages and archers to starboard side, with orders to fire on my signal," Tacitus commanded. The orders were carried out, with the forty or so archers and five battlemages gathered on the left side. "Keep us straight and true, and don't stop or turn as we sail past," Tacitus told the helmsman. The boat was almost parallel with the smugglers, who realized the intent of the archers and fled for the city. "Mages, fire! Sink the ships! Archers hold you're fire!" Langley repeated the command, their voices carrying over the ship. Fireballs flew forth from the mages' hands, burning sails and pitch covered rope with ease. Cheers erupted from the crew, as many had family or had grown up in Bravil. Soon, the ships themselves caught fire, and with nothing to stop the flames the boats burned and slowly sank into the murky river. By that time, the Tempest was long gone, and all that they could see was smoke rising into the sky, miles away. That'll send them a message, Tacitus thought with a chuckle. ** As the sun set in the west, the Imperial flagship pulled into the military docks at Leyawiin. Tacitus disembarked, met with salutes from the other captains. Tacitus walked into the headquarters, while the captains followed him. They all took their seats around the table, with the High Admiral at the head. Normally a very gruff person, he had no problem speaking to his fellow captains, losing all reservation when he did. "I've gathered you here, the Eastern Imperial Fleet, to discuss our next course of action. The Empress wants us to raid Thalmor shipping, mostly going to Elsweyr. The Western Fleet will harass Valeenwood from Anvil, and hopefully we can disrupt their hold on the seas. Any question?" Several captains looked around, and only after a minute if silence did someone speak up. "How will we divide the ships?" Tacitus had anticipated the question, and already knew the answer, but was hoping someone had the balls to ask it instead of just sitting there like a yes man. "Both fleets will divide into six groups of five, featuring one carrack, two dromons, and three galleys or caravels each. At any one time, two of the six groups from either fleet will be deployed, leaving the other four groups to protect Anvil in the west fleets case, and four groups to protect Leyawiin, in our case." "Why not sail as a fleet?" someone asked. "The way I have it planned, we can be in and out quickly, without much time for the enemy to react. And this way we don't leave our ports undefended." "When will we start?" "The first flotilla, led by the Tempest, sets sail tomorrow at sunrise. We'll prey upon the ships headed for Senchal. One last thing, avoid conflict with the Dominion navy if at all possible." Tacitus rose, as did the captains, who saluted him. He quickly returned the salute, then walked briskly down the docks back towards his warship, and his bed.

Boldir, Carlotta, Mila Eastmarch Two days after leaving Whiterun, Noon Boldir slept soundly, at least he did until a fly decided that it liked his beard. His nose twitched a few times, and he awoke to find the annoying little insect buzzing around his face. He swatted at it and closed his eyes again. Seconds later, the thing was once again flying over him. Damnit. He opened his eyes and swatted at the fly again, harder this time. He felt the palm of his hand hit it, and quickly clenched his fist, crushing the helpless critter, then wiped its remains on the side of the carriage. He glanced up and saw the sun high above him, then groaned and closed his eyes once more. Suddenly, they snapped open for a third time. The sun was very high. He turned and saw Carlotta sitting to his right, on the opposite side of the carriage. She was staring back at him with a look of amusement. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked. "Since we set out." she answered. "It's been a good seven hours now, then your buzzing friend decided it was time for you to rejoin your family." He groaned once more. "Don't let me sleep so long next ti-" He stopped himself when he realized where they were. They were riding along a road atop a slope. At it's base was a treeline, and beyond that, there was a massive expanse of open, treeless land, stretching as far north as the eye could see. There were hundreds, if not thousands of little pools throughout it, and long fissures, cracks in the earth, were constantly spewing out steam. "Why didn't you tell me we'd arrived in Eastmarch?" Boldir asked excitedly. Carlotta was surprised by Boldir's excitement. "You didn't exactly show much interest in your sleep.... Why are you worked up over Eastmarch?" "I may have grown up in the Rift, but it only took a few years of living in Eastmarch to make it feel more like a home to me. I know this hold better than an Imperial knows the taste of milk." "Hey!" "Oh, come on, you know Skyrim-borns don't count! We count you two as Nords like anyone else born here." "Uh huh." Carlotta wasn't quite sure how to take the poor attempt at a complement. It was true that she had been born and raised in Skyrim, but she was still born an Imperial. Ah, screw it. she thought. Her mother hadn't really cared for Imperial customs any more than she did. She certainly wasn't going to get mad at Boldir over this, but she didn't want Mila growing up hating her own race because of how he talked around her. She gave him a hard stare, then motioned her head toward her daughter. Boldir got the message and nodded in apology. Boldir glanced up at Mila. She was driving the carriage on her own now. Carlotta had given her the chance to do so yesterday afternoon, and the girl gladly accepted the offer. Now, she liked to consider it her job. "Anyway, you see that valley north of here. Mila?" "Of course!" Mila hadn't only seen it, she'd been looking out at it almost the entire time that it'd been visible. She wanted to go see the fissures up close, find out what that steam stuff was. She wanted to swim in the pools, or at least splash around in the shallow ones. Mila didn't know how to swim. There wasn't much water in Whiterun that you could get in without getting in trouble, and she'd never in her life been this far from the city. "That whole area is a massive hot spring. See that mountain waaay back there? Off in the distance? That's just the center." "What's a hot spring?" asked Mila curiously. "A hot spring is a place in the earth where hot water constantly spews out of the ground. All of those pools you see down there are heated. That's also why there is steam coming out of those cracks. There's not a warmer place in Skyrim." "Wow..." Mila stared in awe at the miles of springs below her. She now wanted to go down there more than ever, to see and feel these "hot springs" for herself. "So what makes the water hot?" "Oh, uh..." Boldir honestly had no idea what caused the water in the springs to be so warm. He'd heard something about underground volcanoes, but wasn't sure where, and to him, that sounded a bit ridiculous. "Dead Dragons." he said. "What?" Mila and Carlotta asked in unison. Carlotta looked at him with suspicious eyes. "Aye, dead Dragons. A long time ago, back when Dragons were as common as people, they fought one another for control of Skyrim." Boldir wasn't sure how he'd come up with this particular fib, but he was into it now, and had to keep going. "When the Nords killed Dragons, they usually buried them in large mounds, but out here was the site of a major battle. One of the largest in history. A thousand Dragons darkened the skies, burning and killing the men without remorse. This was a time before bows were invented, so the people of Skyrim had no way to fight back against the flying menace. That is when the Nords first learned to shout, you see. They were desperate, and in their desperation, they found a way to turn their own voices into weapons, like the Dragons did. They used this weapon to burn the Dragons back, and to pull them from the sky, then the beasts had no choice but to fight them up close. The men back then were stronger than they are now, and used weapons made of steel that puts ours to shame. They bested the Dragons in this battle, called uh... The Great Battle of... Dragon...'s Tooth." "The Great Battle of Dragon's Tooth?" asked Carlotta, an eyebrow raised. She was doing a very poor job of hiding a grin. Mila however, was having a hard time keeping her eyes on the road. She stared out over Eastmarch, picturing the massive battle of men and Dragons with a look of wonder. "The Great Battle of Dragon's Tooth." he repeated once again. "It was a major turning point in the war. Anyway, the Dragons' corpses littered the entire valley, and it would've taken years to bury them all. So our ancestors left them there. All but the leader, a Dragon named Britufiik." Boldir obviously didn't know Draconic, but that sounded like something a Dragon would be called. "He was buried in a mound atop that mountain in the center of the valley. I've seen it myself. Maybe I'll take you sometime. Anyway, that was thousands of years ago. The Dragons' bodies have been taken by the earth, and their bones by collectors, but their magic stayed here. Now, thousands of years later, it is still leaking out of the ground and heating the water." "That's incredible!" Mila said in awe. "Yeah," Carlotta agreed, her eyebrows still raised. "That was quite the tale." "Aye, Dragons are strange creatures." said Boldir, proud of the bit of history he'd come up with on the spot. "Maybe the story is embellished a bit, who am I to say? But I believe it. What else would cause this?" "I believe it too." exclaimed Mila. She sat quietly for a minute as she stared down the road, working herself up to ask the question that had been on her mind. "So... Can we go see them?" "See what?" asked Boldir. "The springs?" "Ya, I want to see the Dragon steam up close." Boldir thought on it for a moment, then nodded. "We're just a few hours' ride from a turnoff at a mining camp called Darkwater Crossing. I was already considering stopping their for the sake of an easier night's sleep for myself. I know a few of the residents, one of them, a woman named Annekke Crag-Jumper is friend of mine, as is one of the guards." Boldir paused at the thought of Annekke, who had known him when he had been a very different person from the man Carlotta knew. Maybe we shouldn't... Nah, Annekke has no reason to go into detail about any of that stuff anyway. He grinned. He didn't have much choice anyway. He'd already started, and now there'd be Mila to answer to if they didn't do this. "It's near the edge of the springs, and we can take a little trip into the valley from there. Plus, it is on the way." "Are the springs safe?" asked Carlotta, before Mila could respond. "There haven't been any bandits down there in decades as far as I know, and the only threat is the occasional saber cat wondering down to enjoy the heat. They won't bother us unless we get too close. I'd wager we've passed a half-dozen of them in the tundra since we set out." Carlotta was skeptical, but if Boldir, who was if anything overprotective, saw this as a safe thing to do, she figured it couldn't be too bad. "Okay, if you say so, I don't see why we can't." The look of excitement on Mila's face made it more than worth it. *** Darkwater Crossing Afternoon "So he surrendered, just like that?" asked Carlotta. "Seems uncharacteristic from everything I've heard about him." She and Boldir were sitting on tree stumps with a few residents, just off from the main grouping of tents that made up the living portion of Darkwater Crossing. Despite the fact that Carlotta had always heard it referred to as though it were a town, the reality was less impressive. Darkwater Crossing was nothing more than a mine, a collection of tents, and the homestead of Anneke and Verner; the family who owned the mine and paid the miners. Immediately south of it all was a small lake, with a long waterfall pouring into it from the cliffs that separated Eastmarch from the Rift. To the north spanned the hot springs of Eastmarch, where they would be going with Mila once they were finished with their late lunch. "Yup, our King apparently didn't want to throw away his men's lives in a battle they couldn't win. Preferred to bide his time." An older Stormcloak soldier, a man named Helkier, had been posted in this little camp for several years now, and was a much a resident as the miners. He had been there the day that Ulfric and his men had been captured in the famous ambush that nearly ended the war. Boldir and Baldur had been there as well, but Boldir kept quiet as he allowed the man to tell the story from his point of view. "So what was Ulfric doing down here anyway?" asked Carlotta. "Your husband would know better than I. Was a secret when they came. Not sure if it still is or not." Carlotta looked at Boldir curiously. "Is it still?" "Actually, it isn't." said Boldir. "We were goin-" "Hey Ma! Boldir!" Boldir was cut short by Mila's excited voice. The girl had been in the house talking to Annekke Crag-Jumper; the adventurer-turned-miner who had discovered Darkwater mine in the first place. He'd known her years ago in Windhelm, but it had been a long while since he'd last spoken with her. Still, she recognized him when the cart arrived, and had been more than excited to see him with a wife and kid, who she'd immediately thought to be his. After all, the last time they'd actually spoken was well before Mila was born. The young girl sprinted from the doorway of the house over to where they sat. Annekke walked behind her. Despite the fact that she had to have been older than Carlotta, the woman looked very young. She was quite pretty, with mid-length dark blonde hair and green eyes. Her face looked clean at the moment, but her dirty clothes betrayed her line of work, with heavy dark stains of soot and dirt coating them. "Annekke just told me about a carved stone in the springs not far from here! She says it's ancient, and that if you touch it, it will glow to the sky! Can we go there?" Boldir knew the stone Mila spoke of. It was the Atronatch stone. He'd visited it, along with a few others like it before, but as far as he'd been able to tell, they were just some intricately carved rocks. They certainly didn't "glow to the sky" when he'd touched them. Still, it would make for good sight-seeing, so he nodded his head at Mila. "Definitely. I can't believe I didn't think to in the first place." "How long until we can go?" The girl asked excitedly. "Now?" Boldir looked to Carlotta expectantly. He was ready if she was. She gave a similar look to him, then nodded. "I guess now is as good as any other time." "Actually Carlotta, I was hoping that you could stay here." said Annekke. "Not a lot of women pass through here, and it'd be nice to get to know you. You can tell me all about how you and Boldir met." "Uh..." Boldir wasn't sure if he liked this idea. The Annekke he remembered wasn't the type to jabber on about girlish things like husbands or romance stories. She'd been a Nord to the core. Though it had been many years since they'd last spoken. She'd only been married for about a year the last time they had, and he'd never actually met her husband. Maybe being married for so long had tempered her a bit, as it had him. Still, he could think of several reasons he'd rather his wife and Annekke not talk in private. Not only would it be awkward, but there was also the off-chance that they'd end up talking about him when he'd first met Annekke. "I think It'd be better if Carlotta came with us." "Oh." said Annekke, a little disappointed. "That's fine, I definitely understand." She smiled. "You three enjoy the springs! It really is a wondrous part of Skyrim." "Hold on now." Carlotta glared at Boldir. She had originally planned on turning the offer down, but now, seeing how Boldir was seemingly trying to force her to go with him rather than stay, she was starting to change her mind. "What if I'd rather stay?" She raised an eyebrow at him as she so often did. "Well I- Why would y..." Boldir stopped himself before he said something that could offend his friend, or worse, his wife. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond, as he'd expected Carlotta to want to come with him anyway. Boldir hadn't thought that she'd actually consider staying. "Wouldn't Mila prefer it if we all went?" "As long as I get to go, I'm happy." the girl chimed in. Gee, thanks Mila. "Well, uh okay then. You can stay if you want... of course." Now that she had successfully paid back her husband, Carlotta felt a little bad, and decided that the little game was over and that she would go, but when she turned to Annekke and saw how excited the woman looked, she knew that there was no going back now. Well that blew up in my face. "We'll have a good time, don't worry." Mila was pulling on Boldir's hand, trying to get him moving along. "Alright then..." he said back to them as he was pulled away. "We'll be back by dark." Carlotta watched them leave with hidden regret, then smiled at Annekke, who returned it. It was unusual to Carlotta, the thought of spending time with another woman. She didn't generally socialize all that much outside of work, and usually just spent time with her family, or more recently, Boldir's friends, which, besides Rebec, pretty much only consisted of large, hairy men. Maybe this won't be so bad. "So Boldir says that you found this mine yourself." "Yep." Annekke had a proud look in her eyes. "Found it while exploring the hold. Used to do a lot of that. Before that I lived in Windhelm." She lead Carlotta to the front door of her house and let her guest enter first. "Never expected to one day own a mine, that's for sure." She closed the door behind them. "How long have you and Boldir been married?" asked Annekke suddenly, once the door had shut. Carlotta was caught off-guard by the abruptness of the turn the conversation had suddenly made, as well as how Annekke now seemed considerably less warm. Not angry or mean, but not nearly as friendly as before. She actually looked to be a bit concerned about something. "It's-uh been quite a few months, we-" "So Mila isn't his?" Carlotta looked at her sharply. This was thin ice that the woman was treading on now. "She is now, and that's all that matters." The Nord woman let out a breath, then smiled. "It's like I'd figured then." She took a seat in a chair near the hearth fire, and motioned for Carlotta to take the one next to her. "You two are heading to the city Riften, correct? To visit your family? Mila told me." "That's right." Carlotta wan't making any pretense of this being a delightful conversation. Annekke had tricked her with the happy attitude, and now instead of talking like she'd claimed to want, she was prying where she didn't belong. Boldir had told Mila not to bring up where they were going, but the girl had apparently let it slip anyway. Annekke noted Carlotta's coldness. "I'm sorry, don't take this talk for an ill-will on my part. I am just trying to help you. I know what having a daughter is like. Got one of my own living in Shor's Stone." Carlotta wan't entirely convinced. She didn't like being tricked, but the mention of the familiar town name caught her attention. "Shor's Stone eh? That's where Boldir says he came from. But what does anything you can tell me have to do with Mila?" Annekke sighed. "Look, I don't mean this the wrong way, I mean I really don't, but I don't think you know as much about your husband as you think you do." "What?!" Carlotta wasn't sure who Annekke thought she was, but she wasn't going to let some woman Boldir knew from twenty years ago act like she knew about their relationship. "I wasn't aware that you were an expert on what I know about MY husband!" Annekke frowned and raised her hands as if to calm Carlotta. "Please, like I said, I don't mean this to be offensive. It's just... I can't imagine that you'd be bringing your daughter to Riften with him if you knew all about him." Oh... Now Carlotta understood. She felt a little bad for snapping at Annekke now, but also a bit annoyed that the woman didn't think Boldir trusted her enough to tell her this, and that she'd taken it upon herself to get involved in their family's affairs. "You're referring to his bounty in Riften, aren't you?" asked Carlotta, already knowing the answer. Now, for the first time, Annekke looked surprised. "Well... yes, actually. You knew then?" "Yes, like I said, I know my husband. I know that he killed a man there, years ago, just before he left the Legion, and I know that he is still technically wanted for the murder. That was decades ago though, and he doesn't look like he did back then." Annekke seemed confused. Boldir was a good man, and the murder was more than justified, if his own story was true. Carlotta marrying him despite this was no surprise, but to take her own daughter with him to Riften? That seemed beyond reckless. Suddenly, a thought dawned on her. "Did he tell you the name of the man he'd killed?" Carlotta, still feeling a bit proud of herself for proving Annekke wrong, immediately felt like that victory was suddenly a bit hollow. She honestly had no idea what the man's name had been, and she knew that Boldir hadn't told her. Still, she didn't want to look like a fool while she was ahead. "He told me," she lied. "but it's been a while. I don't remember the man's name." "Surprising." said Annekke, her face no less concerned than before. "Most people wouldn't forget a name like this one. His name was Torven. Are you aware of what his surname was?" "Remind me." Annekke frowned. "It was Black-Briar." *** Boldir couldn't help but feel slightly nervous about how Carlotta's time with Annekke was going. There were some sensitive topics that they could get into, but Annekke seemed sincere when she said that she genuinely just wanted to get to know Carlotta, and she had no reason that he could think of to tell her about his past. He decided not to dwell on it too much, as it would only cause him unnecessary stress, and there was nothing he could do now anyway. Besides, this was a good chance Mila and him to share some bonding time, something he felt the two of them hadn't had nearly enough of in a while. He'd never seen Mila happier than when they first got away from the trees and into the hot springs. "It's so warm!" she said, taking her jacket off and leaving it on a rock near the edge of the springs. Indeed, the hot springs of Eastmarch felt unlike anywhere else in Skyrim. Mila hadn't in all her life ever felt such a genuine warmth. Not in the air at least. It was odd, comfortable even, not unlike being tightly wrapped in a blanket at night. Mila thought that this would be a very easy place to go to sleep if she was at all tired. Fortunately, she wasn't. After taking a few moments to embrace the dramatic change in temperature of the area, Mila suddenly left Boldir's side and sprinted to one of the long fissures, to watch the steam churn out of it. She tentatively reached her hand towards the steam, curious of what it felt like. "Don't touch that!" Boldir quickly covered the distance between them and yanked Mila away from the steam. Seconds later, a heavy burst of the stuff shot from the crack with a hiss. Both of them could feel an intense heat coming from it, even though it was several feet away. Boldir gave Mila a look that said "really?" She gave him an innocent look. "What? I didn't know it would all blow out like that." When Boldir's face remained unchanged, she took a more apologetic tone. "Fine. I'm sorry." she mumbled. "It's okay. Just please try to be a little careful. How do you think your mother will react if you return with your hand red from burns?" Mila grinned slyly. "She'd probably blame herself. You would too I bet." Boldir was once again stunned by the unexpected answer from the thirteen year old girl. "Well of course we would! It's our job to keep you out of harm." He tried to sound fatherly, but coming from his mouth, Boldir couldn't help but feel like he'd made the statement sound more like some sort of military objective. After all, physical harm wasn't exactly something that the average Whiterun family even had to be worried about. Mila grabbed Boldir's hand and pulled him along in the supposed direction of the Atronatch stone. "But if I had run a little later, and touched it when it burst, you couldn't have done anything about it, so why would you blame yourself if it was all my fault?" "It would be our fault for allowing it to happen in the first place. I shouldn't let you get into positions where you are capable of getting hurt like that, you see? What don't you understand?" Mila shook her head and rolled her eyes. "That would mean that you can't let me do anything. How could it be your fault if it's out of your hands?" Boldir started to answer, but stopped. He honestly couldn't see it resolving anything. Mila was actually making sense, even though he knew her to be wrong, but she was already set in her argument, and wasn't likely to back down now. "Blast it girl, bother your mother about this. She'd actually enjoy this little argument." Boldir had his share of strong suits, but skill in bantering was not among them. Mila giggled, proud of the fact that she'd actually managed to not get shot down by Boldir in this argument. All thoughts of it faded, however when they neared one of the many warm pools of the spring. "Ooh, ooh! Can I get in it?" she pleaded, tugging on Boldir's arm. He shook his head. "We're almost to the Atronatch stone now. You won't want to make the rest of the journey all wet. What i-" His words were cut off by a splashing sound behind him. He spun around to see Mila, still in her traveling pants and tunic, even her boots, laying on her back in the water, kicking her feet and thrashing her arms to stay afloat. All that she'd left behind was her lunar dagger. "Look Boldir! I'm swimming!" She laughed with childish merriment that made Boldir smile despite the fact that she'd immediately disobeyed him. This part of the trip was for her enjoyment anyway, and damn if he was going to ruin this moment for her. The water was only about three feet deep, so the term "swimming" may not have been all that accurate, but Mila was simply excited to be in water at all. Back in Whiterun, the only water deep enough to even count was the Jarl's moat, and it was very strictly off-limits. There was the river too, but that was apparently much too dangerous to play around. This water, however, was calm and still, and nobody was going to get on to her for being in it, and she could play as much, and make as much noise as she wanted. Not to mention the heat. If she had been even the tiniest bit skeptical of Boldir's Dragon story before, Mila believed it completely now, for what other than a magical creature could create such a soothing warmth and keep it here for so long? Mila thrashed around a bit, moving her arms in a way that she thought was how you were supposed to to swim. Surprisingly, it was working at least somewhat. She moved in the right direction, but she only actually kept from sinking by planting her feet on the floor of the pool every few strides. From there she'd kick off again and continue on her path. Once she'd made a full circuit around the pool, Mila stopped near the edge where Boldir stood, then dunked her face under the clear water to move her hair out of her eyes. She popped back up. "Aren't you gonna get in?" "Huh?" Boldir blinked a few times and looked down at her. He'd been deep in thought as she'd played. Good thoughts, about his family and how lucky he is to have it. A year ago, Boldir wouldn't have dreamed that he'd be in Eastmarch watching his daughter try to swim in the pools. He wouldn't have thought he'd have a wife, especially one he cared about enough to change his own life so much so that they could be together. He wouldn't have thought any of this. He'd been sad when his axe broke in his last battle with the Thalmor, but now, such a thing seemed so unimportant to him. Seeing Mila, as happy as can be, really reinforced what he'd been thinking for months. That he'd made the right choice. Mila looked at Boldir for a few seconds. He seemed like he was in another world. That wouldn't do at all. She splashed water at him, causing the large Nord to look startled and yell 'hey!' "I saaaaid, 'aren't you gonna get in?'" "Oh," Boldir shook his head. "No, I don't think I will." "Oh really?" asked Mila with a grin. She lunged out at his legs by the poolside and grabbed at them, hoping to bring Boldir toppling in. Unfortunately for her plan, Boldir was as heavy as he looked, and the Nord didn't so much as budge. She found herself uselessly hanging from his feet, so she let go, falling back into the water. "You're no fun." she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. Boldir felt a little bad when he saw Mila's defeated expression, but not nearly bad enough to get him into that water. He eventually took a seat on a nearby rock, where he sat and waited for Mila to decide that she was ready to move on. It took another half hour or so, during which she splashed and swam and kicked and jumped. She play fought sea monsters and pretended to be one herself. By the time she was done, Mila was feeling exhausted. She climbed out of the pool, retrieved her dagger, and, still soaking, sat right next to Boldir and leaned her head against his arm. Whether this was because she was tired, or because she wanted a free pass to soak his tunic's sleeve, Boldir wasn't sure, but he let it slide. "You tired Mila?" "Yeah. But it was worth it." "So I guess you'd rather just head back then, wouldn't you?" Mila's head snapped up. Any apparent drowsiness in her was now gone. "Of course not! We haven't even seen the stone yet!" Boldir's smile widened. He hadn't expected anything less. "Well, we've still got an hour of daylight to go, and the stone isn't a mile east of here. We'll be able to see it soon." He stood up and offered Mila a hand. She immediately felt the weight of her wet clothes when she stood, and now knew why people tend to strip down some before swimming. As they walked, Mila began to trudge behind a bit. Boldir turned and waited for her to catch up. "You know, I tried to tell you to save that for the return trip. See why now?" "Yes." she grumbled. Mila picked up her pace to match Boldir's, not wanting to get made fun of anymore for her own lack of foresight. She was glad that she did when they reached the top of a small slope, as it gave her an immediate view of the stone formation ahead. About twenty yards in front of them, down the little slope they stood on, was a grouping of several stones that almost formed a half-circle. Each was taller than a grown man, and shaped sort of like an up-pointed finger. They were old and gray, with many flowers and vines growing around them. The one in the middle stood slightly taller than the rest, and had a hole about the size of a small pulled wagon wheel near the top that went all the way through, allowing you to see out the other end of the formation. The hole was a perfect circle. "Come on!" she shouted to Boldir, racing ahead down the slope. Upon closer inspection, Mila could see that the larger central stone had a picture carved into it. It took her a moment to recognize what it was supposed to be. "It's a constellation! The Atronach!" She turned back to Boldir to see if he'd gotten close enough to see. "How old do you think these are?" "Very old." he answered, finally stepping up and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Thousands of years, probably." He gave her a pat. "Go ahead. Touch it. That's what they say you're supposed to do." Mila nodded and slowly moved toward the large central stone. The rock man carving glared right past her, not caring at all to acknowledge her presence. She placed her palm right on his face, then felt the tiniest of vibrations. Not in the stone though, it was in her. Suddenly, the hole in the stone began to glow a bright white, as did some lines on the stone man. "Whoa!!" she backed away quickly. "What is it?" asked Boldir. The light leapt from the hole and traveled from the tip of the rock up to the sky, creating a bright beam that Mila couldn't even see the top of. She turned to Boldir, her face looked as surprised and excited as he'd ever seen. "Look! Can you believe this?! It's amazing!" He couldn't see anything of note. Had Annekke been right aboht the magic? "What is it? Are you seeing something?" Mila nodded excitedly. "Yes! There's a light! It really is touching the sky! Go on, you've got to touch it too!" Boldir frowned. He had touched this very standing stone before, as well as three others. Still, he placed his open palm to the same spot Mila had. As expected, there was no light, no nothing. It was just a nicely-carved rock in his eyes. Yet, for some reason, it was something far more magical in Mila's. He shook his head at her, causing Mila to look disappointed. "So I guess you don't believe me then?" "Of course I do." answered Boldir. "There are much stranger things in the world than not being able to see some light. I'm sure there's a reason for it." Mila smiled and watched the beam for several more seconds before it faded, along with that in the hole and the carving. She touched the stone again, but nothing happened. "Well... This has probably been THE best day of my life!" Boldir smiled and, to her extreme discontent, ruffled her still damp hair. "Come on, Mila. Let's get back to your mom." *** The sun was setting by the time Boldir and Mila had made it back to Darkwater Crossing. It would've been earlier, but Mila had forgotten where she'd left her coat, and they'd spent most of the remaining daylight to locate it. She was grateful that they had by the time the'd left the warm air of the springs behind, as her damp clothes coupled with Skyrim's typical chill left her shivering like crazy. Upon entering the camp, she immediately rushed to where their tent was pitched so that she could change into something less likely to freeze her to death. During this time, Boldir searched for Carlotta. But to no avail. Next he tried to find Annekke, but she was nowhere to be found either. Finally, he found a passing miner, an older looking Nord man. He told him that Annekke was in the mine right now, but he could catch her coming out. When asked about Carlotta, the man said that he'd seen her wonder over to the lake north of them. Sure enough, Boldir managed to find his wife sitting on a rock near the edge, staring into the murky water. She appeared deep in thought. He made no attempt to hide it from her as he approached, and put his hand on her shoulder when he reached her. "Everything alright?" At first, Carlotta didn't respond. She just kept staring out at the water. Boldir was patient though, and almost a minute later, she finally looked up. "You know, I have always overlooked how quiet you are about your past. I didn't care that you killed a civilian half a life ago, I told you as much. I married you for who you are now, but Boldir..." She had to struggle to find the right words she was looking for. Carlotta hated being angry, and least of all at him, but him not mentioning the Black-Briars was not something that she could just let go. "There are some things that you can't keep from me. Why didn't you say that the man you'd killed was a Black-Briar? Did you not think that was an important detail?" Boldir had feared this would happen. He wasn't sure why Annekke decided to tell her. Maybe she had changed just like he had. Still, she wasn't even supposed to know that they were going to Riften. "When I told you about what happened, you said that the details didn't matter to you." "That was before I knew that it was the Black-Briars that were after you!" Carlotta rubbed her temple. She could feel a headache coming on. "Gods, and I thought you were overprotective if anything!" "They aren't after me." said Boldir. "If they were, I'd have been found a long time ago. The man I killed, Torven, he was Maven Black-Briar's brother. She only knew three things about me back then, that I was Legion, what I looked like, and that my name was Boldir. Didn't even have a surname yet. Now, I am not Legion, look nothing like I did back then, and have a surname. I've been to Riften since then without an incident." Carlotta tried to calm herself. She knew that Boldir had been against the trip in the first place, and that it had been her that had convinced him to go. What she couldn't get over was that he had allowed her to do so while knowing how dangerous it was. "Boldir, why didn't you tell me? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is for you? What about Mila? I know about the Black-Briars, they're dangerous people! It's like the Battle-Borns all over again!" "This is nothing like the Battle-Borns." Boldir spoke true. Maven was far wealthier and more powerful than Olfrid. "It has been a very long time. They most likely even think that I'm dead. I'm wanted, but they've also forgotten about me." "What about Maven? Has she forgotten about you too?" Boldir knew the answer was 'no'. People don't forget those who kill their families. "I doubt it, but our chances of seeing, much less interacting with Maven are very slim." Boldir sighed. "Look, I know you're worried. I have been thinking about this since the trip was planned, and trust me when I say that I wouldn't have allowed it if I wasn't confident in my ability to go unnoticed there." "But what if you don't?!" Carlotta raised her voice a bit. "What if you get noticed? If what everyone says about the Black-Briars is true, they could punish all of us. These people are dangerous!" These people are dangerous? "So am I." said Boldir with more venom in his voice than Carlotta was used to. He was growing tired of the thought that they should be fearing some snooty noble. "The Battle-Borns were dangerous too, and they decided to make an enemy of me. Now, if you or I were to approach any one of them, they'd turn their heads and hope we keep walking. I never told you about that either!" Carlotta didn't like Boldir's tone. It was unlike any she'd heard from him before, and she realized that he probably talked like this more back when he was a soldier. As for the Battle-Borns, she wasn't sure what he meant, but she figured that he must have threatened them somehow. Still, it was like he'd said... "The Battle-Borns are nothing like the Black-Briars." "That doesn't change things. I'm not afraid of them, and you shouldn't be either." He noticed Carlotta's uneasiness and calmed down a bit. "Look, I don't want you to never see your parents or siblings again because of something that happened a long time ago. I don't have any parents. My family have always been my brothers and sisters in arms. The same applied to Tolik, apparently." He knew he probably struck a chord with Carlotta when he mentioned her previous husband, but he continued anyway. "I don't want to be responsible for Mila growing up without ever seeing her grandparents." "She never would've gotten the chance to do so anyway, if not for you. We never could've afforded to take this trip at all with our business alone." Carlotta wrapped her arm around Boldir's. "I know you are trying, Boldir, but you have already brought so much good into this family. You don't have to try to prove yourself by making this happen." "Yes," said Boldir, "I do. You are my wife, and Mila is, at least in my eyes, my daughter. You and I see it that way. But Mila doesn't. To her, You are her mother, and I am Boldir. She doesn't call me father, even when she wants to, she stops herself, and when she accidentally does, you can tell from her face that it was an accident." Carlotta was dumbfounded. "Of course she sees you as a father! She wanted us to get married! Remember?" "That doesn't make me her father. She spent most of her life without one. Me suddenly jumping into it may make things easier, even better, but it doesn't automatically make me her father. Today, she called me Dad without even thinking about it. I want to make that normal. Going back now, while she is excited to see her real kin for the first time, will crush her, and it will be my fault." Boldir knew that if Maven found them, and he failed to stop her, it would be worse, as well as his fault. "Maybe I shouldn't go. Maybe you two should go without me, and I should stay in Shor's Stone until you are done." Carlotta, despite everything, realized that she did not want that. Neither her not Mila would enjoy Riften as much if he didn't go. He may have been right about Mila not calling him father, but that didn't mean that he wasn't seen by her as family. If he were to leave now, for whatever reason, she wasn't sure how she'd react. It would devastate her, and she knew it would Mila as well. "We aren't doing that. This is a family. We do these things together. Boldir sighed. "Then our only choices are to go back, or keep going. I take it you want to go back?" "I don't know..." Boldir was right in saying that this would upset Mila, and she herself had been more than excited at the thought of getting to see her family again. But the consequences of Maven finding them... "Do you really think that you can manage to keep from being found out?" "I have done it before." "...And if you were, you think you could deal with Maven like... like you did with the Battle-Borns?" "Yes." Boldir had been unsure of this for a long time, but over the past few weeks, after giving it much thought, he was confident that if it came down to it, he could bring down Maven if he had to. It would probably have major consequences for himself, but it would only be a last resort to protect his family anyway. He'd go to any measures to ensure that they weren't hurt. "Alright," Carlotta sounded unsure, but the confidence in Boldir's eyes bolstered her own. "Alright, yes, we will go." She felt a little nervous still, but that nervousness was accompanied by excitement. She was going to see her parents again, and Mila and Boldir would finally get to meet them for the first time. The chances of something going wrong were low, and she couldn't let that tiny chance keep her down throughout the whole trip. It was a happy occasion. She smiled up at Boldir with a renewed happiness. "We'll make this work. It will be a good time." "Yes, it will." Boldir hugged her, and the two sat staring out at the lake, the only noise the distant rush of the waterfalls at the far end. It went on for minutes, each of them content in the other's presence. Reluctantly, Boldir thought back to the camp, and knew he had to interrupt the good moment. "You know, Mila will likely be asleep by now. She was exhausted when we got back. We should get back to her." "Not yet." said Carlotta, resting her head against his arm. It was the first time that they'd been together, just the two of them, in quite some time. She didn't want to end this moment yet. Mila was safe where she was, and could wait a little longer. Boldir knew what she was thinking. That they hadn't had a private moment in quite a while. Now that the arguing and talk of danger was over, it was nice, no, it was perfect. Just sitting here, looking out over the lake, with the falls in the background and Masser and Secunda reflecting off of the water. He looked down and into her bright green eyes. They were so deep, it felt mesmerising to him. "I don't think you even know how lucky I feel right now." "I do." said Carlotta, raising up to kiss him. She whispered in his ear. "I feel it too." They kissed, long and passionately, like they hadn't in weeks. Since before all of the Battle-Born trouble. Neither was sure what had brought this on them, especially after the tension of the previous few minutes, perhaps it was the solitude, and the beauty of the spot, but whatever it was, all of that tension was gone, replaced by a new feeling. It wasn't long before the rock they'd been on sat empty, and the two were in laying together the grass by the water. If they were wrong, and there was not to be another good time on this trip, the same could never be said about that night. It would be hours before they returned to their tent to find Mila asleep. Their bedrolls were already laid out, inviting them to sleep. They gladly obliged, and in less than a minute, both were sound asleep, thankful for the chance to sleep together for the first time since they'd set out. Just before falling asleep, Boldir's thoughts went back to Mila, and how she had described this as the best day of her life, and he realized that these words may very well have been accurate for himself as well. It really had turned out to be a good day.

Rebec, Baldur, Veleda Windhelm, Palace of Kings Evening Ulfric was sitting in a small round table in his dim lit room, next to his large bed set atop a stone platform. He was tapping his fingers on the table, dropping them individually as he waited for his new Queen to be to arrive. He had the Jagged Crown in his lap, occasionally thinking about it being atop his brow. As much as he spoke of the old kings and the old ways, he couldn't help but feel a little unworthy to wear such a thing, so legendary in nature. He'd never tell anyone that however. Except Galmar. Or Baldur. Ulfric cast it on his bed now, growing a bit impatient, then walked his way back to his throne, hoping Veleda would be there soon. The large doors to the throne room parted and Veleda stepped in, oblivious to the fact that she was late for dinner with the most powerful man in Skyrim. The second-hand shops in the Grey Quarter had proven a treasure trove of magical artifacts, and Menel had even convinced a few of them to bring the good stuff out from under the counter. The Bosmer had stayed behind in the New Gnisis Cornerclub while Veleda returned to the palace. Seeing Ulfric at his throne, she approached and gave the standard military bow. "Your Majesty." After that she stood back to await orders. Ulfric sat bored on his throne reading a document containing money transfer figures to Windhelm from Solitude and a signed order from Baldur for the Necros to immediately see about its protection and departure. All Ulfric had to do was tell them to get it ready for transfer and Baldur was already on it without Ulfric having to ask. The man's a natural. Looking past the paper now in Veleda's direction, Ulfric couldn't help but show annoyance in his voice, not that he attempted to try and hide it. "You're late. Enjoying the sights?" He smirked slightly after saying this, as he wasn't really in a bad mood, he was just bored. "No one could tell me the exact hour you eat dinner," answered Veleda coolly. It was a king's prerogative to eat whenever he wanted, but if he expected her to be at his beck and call... "I was visiting the Grey Quarter, sir." Ulfric stood up from his throne and pointed her towards the North section of the Palace upstairs, directing her to follow him. "And how are our elven neighbors? Likely still cursing my name I imagine. They haven't popped into my Palace in a while." "I avoided that subject with them. Most people don't know who I am yet." For a few days longer, anyway. "The chatter I overheard, I'd rate it as worried. Some think they're going to be kicked out of the city if Windhelm's population grows. Maybe out of Skyrim." "So, no change then?" Ulfric chuckled briefly before continuing. "I increased the guard there, even though its not my responsibility to do so. They aren't citizens, but some have contributed to the Stormcloak military. So that deserves some acts in good faith. It's not going to repair poverty, but even if we weren't preparing for a war, that wouldn't much change. They came in as refugees and sadly that means they had refugee money." "There are no easy solutions to that problem," Veleda agreed as they climbed the old stone passageway. "Windhelm's population probably will expand. The Imperial City's solution is to let the poor rot on the waterfront. I thought we might offer land grants in the Reach for those willing to settle there, if General Brund can get the Forsworn problem under control. That probably won't tempt most of the Dunmer in the Grey Quarter, though. The ones who complain the most aren't the homesteading type. And from what I hear, the Silver Bloods own most of the land in the Reach, so they'd have to be persuaded." "I can say a lot of things about General Brund Hammer-Fang. A great deal. But the most important thing I can say about him is he is ruthless, fearless and one tough son of a bitch. If there's anyone who aught to be out there fighting such a painstaking fight, its the bull that never stops charging. I like the idea. The Silver-Bloods can be persuaded. Not easily though, of course, but they support me. Maybe I can persuade them from land renting or more job ownership possibilities. That and to help stop the forsworn from populating everything. And it won't just be out for Dunmer, we'll leave it open to everyone, so they don't claim we just want to throw them to the wolves. If they don't take the chance to better themselves, Nords will. And they'll have missed the opportunity. You can put a horker in the sea, but you can't force it to swim." Ulfric and Veleda finally got to Ulfric's chambers and took a seat at the same round table from before. Veleda glanced around the room, noticed the huge bed on a platform and looked quickly away. Then she had to double take when she recognized what was sitting on it. Forgetting her discomfort, she stepped up on the platform and bent down to inspect the artifact. "Is this the Jagged Crown? I had heard it was recovered." Ulfric raised an eyebrow when she approached the bed in a hurry, but it soon dropped when she picked up the crown. "Yes, the Dragonborn and Galmar took some men off to recover it. Baldur's friend was there, Boldir Iron-Brow. Galmar insists that I wear it at the wedding." "It would be fitting." Veleda put the dragon-tooth crown back down on the bed. "I wonder how it got up to Korvanjund in the first place. Maybe during the Wars of Succession." She came over to the table and waited for an invitation to sit. This was still his quarters, not hers. "About the Reach, I bet if you offer the Silver-Bloods a cut of mining rights on the land grants, they'd agree. I'm sure that's why they bought up all that land in the first place. Tell them that we're more likely to find more silver and gold when the land is worked than if it stays wilderness." "If that's the reason, then they are optimists, assuming that the Forsworn problem would ever shrink for them to use it. Looks like that gamble will come in their favor." Ulfric waved his hand in the direction of the chair. He thought about saying she didn't need to ask, but thought it better not to get in the habit of saying that. "So. The wedding is at hand and the name Veleda Fire-Hand will be written down in the history books for good. Nervous?" Veleda took the offered seat. "I'd be lying if I said I'm not. I've never backed down from a challenge, but this isn't something that comes up every day. I know it's important, and that motivates me, but I'm still a little confused why you chose me. I'm not even noble-born, though my parents say we were at one time." "Well, I didn't pick you, Galmar did. I just agreed to the choice he made after he pitched it. He said you showed...spunk. I think he means you told him off? Anyway, nobility isn't important like it would be before. My whole presentation was one of strength, not right of birth, like what Elisif had after I killed Torygg. See? You fit that pattern. And you have a reputation of dedication to the cause. Not everyday someone brands themselves with our bear, let alone a woman." "I never got the message that women weren't supposed to do things like that, even though my mother tried," she said with a smile. "I was on my way to joining a street gang when I discovered that I had a talent for magic. I guess I've never done the conventional thing. You grew up here?" Ulfric looked to the table briefly before returning his eyes to Veleda's and said, "Hmm, partly. I suppose. Half here, half up on Arngeir's mountain with the Greybeards. Whether it's a palace or a mountain, my childhood was rather secluded." Veleda noticed the king's hesitation, and a less bold person might avoid an uncomfortable subject, but she wasn't known for mincing words. "You're the only one left of your family. It must have been hard on both you and your father when you were imprisoned." Ulfric hadn't shown sadness, but rather anger. He never had a chance to mourn his father. The feeling of hatred for the Empire had swollen at too large a size to allow for tears. "I never got a chance to see how he felt about that. Or what he'd think of my rebellion at the time. Before this, when victory seemed so distant. But whether he agreed or not, I avenged him. I won't lie and say my motives weren't partially fueled by that desire. And I don't need to preach to you about the other reasons to make up for it. Regardless, it is done." Nodding, she said, "My parents reacted to the empire's betrayal by becoming more staunchly loyal. I think they couldn't face that the Nords lost so much only to be tossed aside along with the Blades and the Talos priests. I'll never forget the old man I saw being dragged through the streets by justiciars, so frail he couldn't walk on his own. All the Nord families were scrutinized, our houses searched for Talos amulets or shrines. I take it we'll be married in the Talos temple here?" "Of course. I honestly hadn't thought much on how things were in Cyrodiil. Makes me wonder why no one rebelled there as well. Well, not no one of course." Ulfric smiled and pointed a finger at her. "This is still a bit awkward for you, isn't it? Making idle chatter with a man you just met. Who you'll be bedding for children and so on." For once Veleda had to look down, and a blush crept up the back of her neck, not a feeling she was used to. "It's very odd. I'll be honest, I... How do I say this. Men haven't been a priority for me. I'm not a virgin, that's not what I mean, but I never planned to marry." She leveled her gaze once more. "I've been thinking about it, though, and decided this isn't as crazy as it first seemed. If I was going to marry, to do so for an important reason and not a sentimental one, that's something I can live with." "I envy those who can do such things, because they want to and not because they have to. People like The High General and High Admiral. Or Galmar who could marry if he wanted but chose not to a long time ago. Choice. People like to say that I was power hungry, craved the throne for my ego. And you know what? Perhaps in a way they were right. I thought Torygg was weak. But I was strong. I had a military behind me bigger than the other Jarls and they stayed loyal to me from the battle of Markarth. I had the means and the will. I figured who better than me? If I want to rebel, why not act? Why ask it of another? But, anyone who craves all this responsibility for power itself is a fool. I feel much more restricted now than I did before. But anyway, just because this had to happen, doesn't mean it can't be enjoyable. For what it's worth, I think it will be." Ulfric smiled genuinely in a friendly way, not one that was lustful in nature. As far as queens went, he thought he could have done much worse. Hell, he did. A smile flickered on Veleda's lips, too. Her life was changing more drastically, and losing her freedom was a big price to pay. She also wasn't sure what to think of Ulfric personally. They said he had a temper. As she realized that that's what people said about her, as well, the smile came back. "We have more in common than some married people do. Another thing that's strange is that you're my liege and my commander. As a Stormcloak, I would die for you, but I'm not the meek sort and I won't play doormat as a wife. I expect Galmar already warned you about that, though." Ulfric leaned back in his chair now and sighed, then said "Yes, many headaches to come, I'm sure. Just as long as you realize how not to overstep your bounds. I'll respect you and you do the same. We may not ever love each other. Or maybe we can grow to, who knows. But at the very least we can respect one another. That's more than I could say before." "If you hold true to the principles we fought for, that shouldn't be a problem. I have enormous respect for you. Some say it was the dragonborn who won the war, but you'd already shown the way. I'm not saying this to flatter you. It gave me great pride that when the Thalmor came for me, I didn't have to run to Hammerfell, but could come home." Ulfric wasn't sure how to take the complement at that point, as he felt he'd come off as arrogant, so he decided to move past it. "Well, I had my brothers and sisters here supporting me. And it seems respect won't be a problem between us. Good. You'll probably have a funny feeling in your gut for a while. I did when I first was made Jarl. It'll be moreso for you as a queen in this situation. But it will pass after the deed is done and it's made official. Any Questions for me? Otherwise I think you can return to what you were doing if you wish." "General Red-Snow has offered to have his mother make my wedding dress. I saw her drawings and as far as I know about such things, I think it will be suitable. As for quarters, thank you for understanding that I wanted my own. It's not that I... it won't be a problem, the bedding part. It's that I would feel suffocated without my own space. Besides, my magical research sometimes smells funny." She smiled and went on, "I suppose I don't have any other questions. Do you have any questions for me?" "No, not at the moment. Our task is simple, yet it feels so monumental." Although he said this, it sure didn't seem to be bothering him. "But you'll be back to training mages and casting fireballs in no time. You can train men here, if you wish. Being in a snowy area, things like fire won't be a problem. It is best to do so outside of the city. Some of the locals being more distrusting of magic and so on." "We thought of Morvunskar as a training base. It's a hazard to travelers anyway. But I hope we might talk someday about the thu'um. The College is shocked at how many recruits I've brought in, because they weren't even looking, but still, something is missing. I think it's that deep down, Nords know that we have a different way of using magic than the standard models handed down from Galerion. Perhaps you would be willing to take on an apprentice. From small beginnings, we might make a College of the Voice someday." Ulfric raised an eyebrow briefly, then sighed and turned around. "I'll see. I may have gone against my original teachings, to an extent, but they are still with me. It's not to say I won't do it. It'll make us stronger. I'll just have to think about it. It's not something to be taught lightly. Or used lightly. That much the Greybeards had right." Veleda considered pressing it, the recruiter in her seizing on his ambivalence, but for once she bit her tongue. "Do think about it. This could be the most important legacy you leave for Skyrim." She stood. "Should we go join the others in the hall for our meal, or have it brought up?" "You can go and join the others. Should be nice for you to speak with them without me looming over you and the others. I have some things I need to think over up here," he said. "Very well. Thank you, Your Majesty." Veleda bowed, hand to chest. As she was at the door, she turned. "You know, many people say that you want to return Skyrim to the old ways, but that's not how I see it. The past may be our guide, but we are a vibrant and hopeful country again. This is a new thing we are doing." If she had been addressing recruits, she'd have gone into a much longer, much more fiery speech, but with Ulfric that wasn't necessary. That as much as anything made her smile. Then she left the king to his thoughts, content that the first meeting alone had gone as well as could be expected. Ulfric may have been married before, sort of, but this was still new to him. Especially the part about having the woman he was with on the same page. He smiled at the anticipation of the time they'd have working together as colleagues, then frowned again when he thought about her words on the thu'um. It wasn't that he didn't want to. Arngeir's words of disapproval still rang in his ears from when he first left. "What I did was right, you old man. Look at what Skyrim has become thanks to my decision!" Ulfric had said this pointing up to the ceiling, hoping somehow he'd hear. But he knew better. If he wanted Arngeir to get his message, he'd have to try something else. Something he hadn't attempted in many years. Ulfric sat down on his bed and crossed his legs, which was a bit harder now that he was older since the last time he did it. Ulfric shook his shoulders and closed his eyes as he breathed deeply. Remember, you have shown promise with the voice, but you are not Ysmir. You must concentrate. Focus on the word....it is the very definition of power in it's rawest form...It consumes all if hot enough like a ravenous hunger. It is one of the more dangerous shouts to learn, because the process as well as learning the thu'um itself can become a part of you. You must study the word and harness it. Let the word fill your mind, but don't let it consume it with the desire for power....Fire....Yol....Yol...Yol.... "Yol!" As Ulfric had been meditating and trying to remember Arngeir's teachings for who knows how long while he sat in that spot, suddenly the urge to call out filled him, and a burst of flame erupted from his mouth. He had a theory that his recent actions would make him understand the word on a deeper level than he ever was able to before. And it seems he was right. "I wonder if the old man was right after all. Did the learning of this thu'um consume me? Did power in the form of fire make me desire to use mine, then later seek more? Even so, it seems like it was for the best of all in the end." Satisfied with the results, Ulfric nodded in satisfaction, then laid back in the bed to rest. Speaking a new word always took a lot out of him. And this one took its toll even more so. *** Baldur and Rebec were sitting at the main hall table next to each other stuffing their faces with Ulfric's food. Baldur sat with food on his gauntlets as usual and a goat leg in his hand half eaten. Whirling it around as he spoke, he said, "So, an Imperial a Nord and an Altmer are going down a trail. The Altmer is riding on a horse while the Imperial and the Nord walk on their own. The Altmer says, 'Fitting that I be the one smart enough to bring a horse for this journey, as I am your superiors. So it makes sense that I be set above the both of you. The Nord says, 'You know what? **** you and **** the horse you rode in on. Then the Imperial takes a look at the Nord, draws his sword, points to the horse and says, 'If you EVER threaten to rape our Emperor again, I'll kill you where you stand!'" Rebec spluttered with laughter, sending mead flying across the table to hit Ysrarald Thrice-Pierced in the face. Veteran of many mead halls, he didn't seem to notice. Good man. "Didn't one of the Septims try to get his horse elected as chancellor of the Elder Council?" she asked. The housecarl answered. "Tried. Didn't work. Other councilors didn't want the competition." Snickering, Rebec said, "Not like we can talk. If a horker showed up at a moot claiming to be jarl of such-and-such, I doubt anyone'd notice." "Pff, at least horkers don't suck on sugar cubes all day." Baldur said in between bites of cheese and goat meat. He was alternating between the cheese on his gauntlets and the leg in his hand. "Maybe Ulfric should have picked a horker for queen?" Veleda had come up behind the others and overheard their chatter. Rebec turned to see who it was. Maybe the jokes should have ended there, but the admiral wasn't known for her decorum. "Didn't he try that with the first one?" "Now now, don't insult our good horkers that way." Veleda slid in next to Ysrarald, telling him not to get up. Exchanging a look with Baldur, Rebec burst out laughing again, this time more in surprise that the new queen had joined in. Baldur was caught by Rebec's laugh and started laughing harder than he was initially. Still smiling, he said, "Not bad, Veleda, not bad." Looking back to Rebec, Baldur pointed with his eyes in the direction of Yrsarald. He knew she'd get the point. Smirking, Rebec casually asked, "So Ysrarald, where were you pierced?" After that, her feeble attempt at innocence collapsed and the admiral had to lean over her full plate, laughing. Veleda glanced at the housecarl and played the straight man. In a sober voice she asked, "Yes, where were you pierced?" Baldur spoke up and said, "Same place Mede was, I'll bet. Not sure if even he took three though." Rebec forced herself into a straight face and said, "Hey now, I'm asking the man a serious question and you're making dirty jokes about milk drinkers. So Ysrarald. How come you stopped at three times?" Her shoulders started to shake and there were little tears coming out of the corner of her eyes. The housecarl appeared bored. He'd been in the army a long time, with more juvenile company than this. "I made them do it til they got it right." The admiral's eyes widened and she looked at the queen. By Kyne, the man was good. "If it was three at once, Thrice-Pierced, I guess Rebec was more right about the horker comment than she knew." Baldur took a gauntlet off and placed three fingers in his mouth and started moving them suggestively. Elbowing Baldur, Rebec said, "Alright, we're eating. And we're in the presence of royalty. Sorry, Your Majesty. Taking the Breton out of everybody is pretty much what we do." "Don't stop on my account," Veleda answered, filling her plate. Ysrarald shot her a weary glance. Rebec shook her head. "No, we're on your wedding week after all. If we should be roasting anyone for being speared, it's you. I kid, I kid..." Just then the doors burst open wide and several Stormcloaks came in, bearing crates. When they saw Baldur and Rebec, they paused at the table. "Delivery for you, sirs. Where to?" Rebec stared at the haul with mouth agape. "Baldur, why'd you order so much mead?" Baldur was mad at her for scolding him in front of the queen, and was sulking. He didn't even pay attention to the soldiers. "Boldir would have laughed. Anyway, just stick it in the upstairs quarters on the North region. First room on the left." Looking to Rebec, Baldur said, "I didn't, but I suppose I should sample it all the same. Make sure it's good enough for the King and Queen." "It's not mead, sirs. Delivery from the king's blacksmith." The Stormcloaks shuffled on towards the stairs with their burden. Rebec had noticed Baldur sulking, but ignored it, as was a woman's prerogative. "What's Ulfric giving us?" "Oh it must be my armor!" Baldur instantly perked up and forgot about Rebec's embarrassing him. "Eorlund took his sweet time, but you can't rush a masterpiece." "That stuff you took off a draugr? Hope Eorlund got the smell out." Baldur said, "Small price to pay for quality armor, my love. A small price. We'll see when we open the crate later. Anyway, what my wife here fails to understand, Veleda, is that you were a grunt just like us. I know you can handle some immaturity. I'm surprised I'm the one saying this, really." "I'm sure it's not the last time I get treated differently now," Veleda replied. "It's to be expected. I won't wilt, one way or another. By the way, where's your mother?" "She's working on your dress, I believe," Rebec answered. "Oh, and missing a meal for it? I'll have to take something up to her later. Speaking of work, I was down at the waterfront earlier and marked out in chalk where the ward inscriptions will be put on your ship. I met your first mate." "Mazoga. You should ask her about her family's background, it's something like yours. And, thank you, Your Majesty. Good of you to take the trouble." Veleda shook her head. "It's no trouble. We all got a lesson in the importance of a navy this year. General Red-Snow, while I've got you, I wanted to ask about this battlemage who fought at Pale Pass and Falkreath, the one who summoned a frost wolf. Where is he now?" "He's in Cyrodiil now standing with the Empress," said Baldur keeping it brief. The Witchking not being someone he wanted to talk on for long. Veleda appeared surprised. "A Nord court mage? I'm not sure there's been such a thing since our Archmagister was called to serve by Morihatha Septim. It's been so long that we don't even have an Archmagister anymore." "You thinking about appointing one like sir Welloc?" asked Baldur. "Perhaps someone from the College of Winterhold. It would improve relations with them. We could use their services and would do well to help increase their business for the benefit of our armies. Lower enchanting prices." "We'll see. I think at this point it would be mostly an honorary title. What we need are better relations with the town. I heard you were planning to settle in Northwatch. I wish I could persuade you to make your naval base at Winterhold." Rebec started shaking her head even with her mouth full of roast chicken. Washing it down with mead, she finally said, "No can do, Your Majesty. A port there would be nice, but there's a steep drop from the town to the water now, and the approach is too dangerous for ships. Anyway Kyne's Watch- that's what we're calling it- is positioned so we can see someone attacking us from the west. I don't think anybody'd try to come around Morrowind, so the west is our weak point." Veleda seemed doubtful. "Where you least expect an attack is likely where one will come. But I take your point." She glanced around. "I expected more people to be attending Ulfric. No wonder he relies on you three and Jorleif and Galmar so much." Baldur stopped eating for a second, finishing the last piece of cheese on his hands and grabbing large piece of pork to consume shortly. After his plate was loaded in beef, he said, "Ulfric I think values people he knows he can trust. Less people to deal with, the better he gets to know his court. Even his house carl is a friend of his. As for an attack from the east, we already have a good viewpoint from the college and Winterhold itself, even without a port there, that is if anyone were suicidal enough to try that from that side. It's good to expect the unexpected, but you still need to cover your weak points. And as far as the town of Winterhold goes, their only importance is the college, whether they wish to believe it or not. Good business for the college means good business for the town." "They don't wish to believe it," the queen answered wryly. "Not the jarl, anyway. As for people Ulfric can trust, what's with Galmar's brother, anyway? I was in the Grey Quarter and heard some fool baying. I thought they were joking when they said it was a Stone-Fist." "Rolff again? That little asshole is always causing trouble. He and I almost had a fight over me letting Dark Elves into the Grim Ones. Galmar ended it, but he still harasses the mer. I may go and crack his skull, later." "Ambition doesn't run in the family, apparently. I bet the guards don't touch him because they think it would get back to Galmar. Not that you have to worry about that." Veleda hadn't eaten much, but she stood and began preparing another plate. "I'll take this up to Ysana now. See you at the wedding, I suppose, if not before." "You too, nice talk. And don't be nervous. You can still count on me treating you the same when you're Queen." Baldur gave her a nod and a reassuring smile. She grinned, nodding gratefully. "Somehow, I don't doubt that at all." Rebec pointed an eating dagger at her and said, "Ysana brings out those tweezers while you're up there, you run like one of your spells caught your tail on fire. Give a shout if you need backup. I know all about the Dibellans' torture tactics." Veleda laughed in surprise, not sure what to make of that. "I will. Good feasting, all of you." She grabbed a loaf of bread and made her way upstairs. When they finished eating, Rebec wiped her mouth and stood. "Let's go see your armor, Baldur. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I asked Eorlund to make it look like the women's stuff, since you're so fond of the design." "Good, then you'll have something sexy to wear tonight. Good night to you Jorleif. And to you, Thrice-Pierced. Forgive us for...poking at your name, hehe. Just a bit of fun." The housecarl lifted his tankard complacently. Yrsarald had the same stern expression he always wore. Chuckling, Rebec said as they walked upstairs, "I wonder how they get him angry for battle." "Not everyone needs to be. I'm usually not," said Baldur reflectively. "I find it better not to be, really. Likely why he's a good commander." "I got a bit of berserker in me, I'll admit it. Luckily naval battle doesn't get hot that way until it's really hot. So where was Ulfric tonight? He getting cold feet about his marriage?" "He just married Elisif. So that can't be it. Maybe he's enjoying some valuable time to himself for once. He'll be losing some again tomorrow," said Baldur. "True. It's such a hardship for you, after all. That's why you have to burrow under my covers every night." She jostled him with an elbow and smirked. "Though I must say, if that's your way of taking quality time, I don't mind at all." That left Baldur quiet for a while, grinning as they walked. Eventually as they reached the room, Baldur reached over the two crates left there and opened the door for her. "Well I'm glad you don't mind. My bard tongue has to stay in shape somehow." "I live to serve, my love." Rebec flopped down in a chair and put her feet up. "Go on, open it up. You don't think there's any draugr magic on it, do you?" Baldur pushed the crates in with his feet, then got to his knees to open the first crate, which wasn't an easy thing to figure out. Eventually he got up and started banging at the wood with his foot so it would crack. "Like what kind?" "Those draugr are cursed, that's why they're still up and walking around in old tombs instead of in Sovngarde drinking mead like they ought to be. Who knows what they could've done to themselves to keep them in that state." "Well, just because their bodies are animated, doesn't mean their spirits aren't in Sovngarde. It just takes magical energy from the soul to keep a dead body alive, or at least that's what the mage types say." Finally Baldur cracked through the wood, which would have been easier if he were in his heavy armor. Cracking his knuckles first, Baldur sent his clawed fist through the opening and started tearing away at the wood. "Besides, if it was in the armor, that would be a lot of lost Nords. Its probably in the barrow. Remember when your amulet glowed?" After Baldur said that, he looked in the crate and saw a sack inside with a sealed note on it that said it was from Eorlund. When he took the note, another one fell out, which said it was from Ulfric. Baldur took those out and handed them to Rebec while he pulled the first sack out. Dubious, Rebec pulled out her amulet. It glowed faintly, but that probably just meant some kind of enchantment was on the armor and not whether it was the nasty kind. "If you say so," she replied, taking the notes and opening them up. While Rebec was reading the notes, Baldur had cracked open the other crate and took out the other sack as well. Standing next to her, he peered over and silently read the notes with her. Baldur, It's Eorlund again. Not sure why you're out shopping for armor, that Nordic Carved will last you a lifetime. But anyway, I took the liberty of adding in quicksilver to the steel when I was refurbishing this, so the armor will match your Nordic Carved Shield. And speaking of shields, I made a new one for you as per request of Ulfric Stormcloak. The skirt was replaced with new mammoth skin and the fur was replaced with new mammoth fur. The hand wrappings were replaced with new green cloth. The horns on the helmet were replaced. Try not to poke an eye out with that thing. Or two. Not unless it's a Thalmor. Enjoy, Eorlund High General Baldur Red-Snow and High Admiral Rebec Red-Snow, I told you I'd have a surprise for you, but what I didn't tell you was that your wife was in on it. I present to you your new shield as a symbol of your station. It holds your family crest, and I had Wuunferth enchant it to be magic resistant. You already got your wife something to represent hers, so I got her something else. Sorry that I didn't get you something sooner, Rebec. The war got in the way and my mind was preoccupied. It's a new blue Stormcloak Admiral's coat with a blouse and trousers with gold trimmings, a Stormcloak bear on the back of the coat and a new sight seer. It has a special enchantment that gives the user night eye at night when peering through. Also enchanted by Wuunferth. Enjoy your gifts, and Talos guide you, Ulfric Baldur's arms were shacking with excitement as he read over the notes and said, "Rebec, you didn't!" He reached over to her and squeezed her before breaking off and grabbing the lighter sack. "This one must be your outfit and your scope. Open it!" Rebec was surprised, but not as enthusiastic as Baldur. She needed new leathers but Stormcloak issue wasn't always something to get excited over, and she liked her own spyglass just fine. Opening the package, however, she whistled. Other than the fact that the coat was Stormcloak blue, this was a whole new design, not just a retooling of the standard issue infantry gear. "A brand new naval uniform, with all the bells and whistles," she said, impressed. It was more than just a gift to her, it was a recognition of the navy's importance, and that was not something you could take for granted in peacetime. "Well? What are you waiting for? Put it on!" he said excitedly. Grinning, Rebec began stripping off her old, patched-over leathers. The new uniform had a leather base, too, but with chain reinforced cuirass, and a fitted coat with high collar and trimmings in gold. The woolen shirt was trimmed with fur and fancy gold embroidery. It took Rebec a while to get it all adjusted, then she spent a few minutes playing with the baldric and belts which had loops for her axes and spyglass. When she was satisfied, she turned around. "Well, what do you think?" Baldur was of course enjoying the show as she put it on and wasn't at all disappointed when she was fully dressed. It was an impressive sight indeed. "My captain," he said whilst grinning in approval. "Now you look like the High Admiral." She was grinning and pleased, too. "It'll take a while to feel broken in, but I can tell this was well made. I'll ask Ulfric to issue more for the other naval officers." Gesturing at the other crate, she said, "Go on, your turn." While she waited, Rebec took out the new spyglass and started playing with it, adjusting sights and muttering to herself. Baldur didn't have to be told twice as he dived into the bag and his eyes lit up like a Nord in a meadery. The steel was refurbished perfectly, showing all the swirl details on it that went rather well with his war paint, which he touched now on his cheek as he looked at the armor. He placed the skirt on first which had a shirt attached to it like a dress with fur on it, which he had to laugh at. He quickly put on the breast piece and secured the straps behind his back. Then came the boots, which luckily Eorlund remembered his size from the last time he visited him when he had the armor and his axes fitted for his wielding, since it belonged to someone else before. The boots fit perfectly to him and there was fur aligning the inside of it which made for a very comfortable fit. There were two metal rings inside as well which went over his biceps, and then finally came the gauntlets with green covered wraps that let his fingers show. It was all practically pristine. "And now, the shield." This was the part he was looking forward to the most, because Rebec had suggested it. And he was not disappointed. The shield was a normal Nordic Carved shield, but it had what appeared to be actual Nordic Carved Axes built into it, crossing over and sealed in place by a metal red snowflake in the center, just like the family crest Rebec had on the sail. Baldur ran his fingers over it, silent for a while. Finally after some staring, Baldur said, "Thank you, Rebec. I love it." He swung the shield over to his back with the attached strap, then spun his axes around in his hands before holstering them in the metal axe holds Eorlund had attached to the armor at his waist. Brushing a hand over the shield, she smiled wistfully, saying, "It was small enough. I still owe you part of your wedding present. That'll have to wait til after we get back from Hammerfell." Rebec stood back a step and looked him over. "Damn, man. You are one fine looking Nord. Maybe you don't know where your ancestors are in the roll that's going to be read, but whoever they are, they'd be proud to see you now." From the look in her eyes, it was obvious that she was proud, too. He was close to blushing, but he held it back, wanting to come off as confident rather than bashful. He took a step towards her, putting a finger under her chin and said, "Only the best for a daughter of Kyne, Captain." Rebec felt a lump in her throat. She was glad that she would be there to hear Rebec the Red's name read in the list of ancestors, but moreso that with Baldur she was representing a new clan. "Long live the Red-Snows," she said, smiling up at him. Finally she couldn't stand it any longer and grabbed his shoulders, kissing him and thinking about how they now had to take all this armor off. There were probably other things they had to attend to before she could do that. Releasing Baldur again after some minutes, she asked, "Do you think I should go try to find pa?" Vigge had shown up earlier in the week all on his own, growling that the day he needed her fancy ship to get him to Windhelm was the day he'd pack it in for Sovngarde. He had also been unimpressed at the idea of sleeping in a big stone palace, and insisted he would fend for himself. For all she knew, he was still down on the docks chewing the fat with other ship captains who were coming in for the festival, and would end up sleeping on a pallet somewhere. "You know how your father is. When he makes up his mind, he's made up his mind. But if it'll make you feel better, I could have my men drag his ass into the palace in the morning. That way, he could at least say it wasn't his decision and he stood firm. Speaking of..." he said this with a smirk as he crushed her hips to his with his hands on her backside. "This mammoth skin kilt does nothing to hide the Underking, I swear. Should make it rather easy to take a piss though. And I can really get used to seeing you wear this. Something about a woman in uniform." The leather in her new uniform was supple enough that she could verify his statement without looking. Color rising on her neck, she said, "Then if you wear this into battle, you'd better secure the Underking somehow or Clan Red-Snow could end up a small one." Baldur was right about Vigge, he could take care of himself and preferred it that way, and Ysana was busy. The rest could wait. Rebec's uniform wasn't as accommodating in the nether regions as his was, but the top did have laces that were. Pulling at them, she let him get a look as she drew him into another kiss. Baldur was studying carefully where the buckles and secures were on her outfit, so he hadn't needed to open his eyes while they kissed to pop open her trousers and the belt with his left hand. Still, all the clothes that needed to be taken off would be frustrating, but for the better in the end. Twirling a finger through her shirt's lace while his other hand cradled her head, he said, "We'll....figure something out later." It was fitting that he was dressed like the heroes of old, because that's how he felt at the moment. He put his left hand to her stomach and pushed her back to the bed suddenly and started to tug at her trousers, but he hadn't taken them all the way down. Not yet. "Blouse and coat off. That's an order," he said grinning. Rebec fiddled with the belts and got them off, tossing them aside, then shrugged out of her new coat and blouse. It could all be brushed and ironed later. Resting back on her elbows, she watched Baldur with anticipation. He was sporting a lustful smile now while his eyes wandered down towards her chest. He decided he'd give her the same courtesy and unstrapped his breast plate attached to the shoulder pauldrons, which he now dropped to the floor along with his gauntlets. He put his arms through the hole in his mammoth skin shirt, then slid it down, still wearing it around his waist, but he left on the iron circles around his arms, liking the way they looked on him with his chest exposed. He got closer to her now, knocking her knees aside with his so her legs would spread with her pants at her ankles. Now, he gently tugged at her underwear upwards as he flicked and rubbed at her other lips. Gasping at his touch, Rebec checked her own reaction to draw this out. Slowly, savoring, she let her hands and eyes move over his arms and chest, kissing and caressing him with both hand and mouth. There was a reason it was all so much better with Baldur than with anyone else. Even if it felt new, like it did now, there was complete trust between them and by now they were practiced with each other. He made her feel protected and wanted, so that every touch was just a gift, not a manipulation. The look in her eyes was what made him feel so weak and strong at the same time. The fact that she wanted this as much as he did was a blessing, one that he gladly would thank her for. The fact that she had given herself to him for child too was still in his mind, which made every time they tried worth putting extra effort into for him. He ran his hands over her chest, indulging himself for a while before he brought his lips to one, kissing and sucking at her erected nips before he slid a hand down to her underwear and gently tugged them down. Then his expression turned mischievous and he sat up to lift her legs up and poke his head between them with her pants resting on the back of his neck. Before she could say anything, he then lifted her up in the air and rested her legs on his shoulders and carried her to the wall. He had what he was looking for right before him, but he teased her, looking up at her and drawing out her anticipation. "Are you sure you still don't mind? We can skip this part if you want." Laughing as he poked his head up through her legs and then lifted her into the air, she wobbled to keep from falling and braced against the wall. "You're crazy, Baldur," she said, brushing the hair back from his eyes. She loved him for it. "Mind? Silly man." Bringing her hand around to the back of his head, she urged him to his task, her own head falling back against the wall since she planned to enjoy this. That's what he was waiting for, her pushing him towards her. He still teased her for a bit, kissing and flicking with his tongue before finally moving in. He pushed her open with his lips and tugged at the soft walls inside with gentle suckling before massaging the inside with his tongue. Suddenly he started humming the tune of 'Age of Oppression' while he was busy, chuckling at his attempt and the silliness of it as he did. Rebec smiled and glanced down at him as he started to hum. "My wild Nord." For a while she watched, giving little murmurs, hips squirming to aid his movements. She said his name, and a short time later her thighs tensed and with a little cry she braced on his shoulders and rode the shuddering wave that went all through her body from her hair to her toes. Baldur eased up on his movements when he felt her trembling cease, but he kept at it gently as she calmed down and nuzzled the inside of her legs and kissed at her once when it was done. He carried her over to the bed again and put her down, gently rubbing at her as he did soothingly. Then he climbed over her and whispered in her ear, "Me next," and kissed her ear then her neck. "Gladly." She smiled, but had to recover first, which was a pleasure too when she could do it in his arms. At last she turned her head to kiss him, ending with a teasing bite of his lower lip. Shifting downward, Rebec alternated kissing and caressing him until finally she eased back the mammoth fur kilt and began to tease and hold him. She took her time, pausing on occasion for her own sake and to draw the process out, and watching his reactions to take her cues. Baldur felt an intense tingle down his spine and his hands began to shake, which made him grip the sheets with one hand and the other pushed her hair from her face before gently gripping it and helping with the pace. He couldn't hold back groans as she went about her pleasant task. Eventually the big Nord was at her mercy, calling her name and begging her not to stop. Since he held back her hair, her hands were free to alternate heightening his excitement with touching his thigh almost comfortingly. It was an enjoyment of its own to focus solely on him, especially because he didn't try to be stoic or hold himself back, generous even in this. To her, that was the most manly thing about him. At the end Rebec closed her eyes and still held him, able only to think how much she loved him. Climbing back up to his arms, she brushed fingers over her lips and held his gaze, smiling. Baldur looked at her with hazy half open eyes as she hovered over him. He still didn't like thinking about her history with others, but he knew part of why they were so good together was because they were well practiced. Any time he had thoughts about it that made him feel jealous, her gaze on him always made it go away, as if the only man she was capable of seeing was him. He pulled her to him and held her tightly with her arms tucked in, then rolled to the side to kiss at her cheek repeatedly and gently as she did before at the cliff side in Solitude. Whispering, he said, "Give me a few moments and I'll pay you back ten fold." Her fingers brushed over his chest. "I'd say take your time, but..." She laughed quietly and buried her face into the side of his neck. She wasn't really in a hurry. This was pretty good, too. Baldur almost drifted to sleep as she settled next to him, but his body kept that from happening, his hands already wandering to her backside before too long. After a few moments, he was ready again, stiffer this time. Which was good. He would last longer. He took off his mammoth skin kilt, then rolled her over and leaned in on her, showing he was ready. Then while kissing her, he lifted her left leg over his shoulder after fully taking her pants off from her ankles, then he moved into her at an angle while he held her hands down and stared into her Atmoran blue eyes hungrily. Her limbs moved easily, though when pinned, Rebec could do nothing but hold his eyes and feel him parting her. It was always surprising, this first moment when he pushed past her resistance. On her sensitive skin he felt hard as the metal of his armor but soft at the same time, and there was a little thrill of danger, but the clasp was also warm and comforting like she had been made just for him. He had felt that way as well, them being so used to each other and her being accommodating to his breach. The feeling of his warmth in hers was amazingly sobering, eliminating all drowsiness as he split her for all that he was worth, running a hand from her neck down her chest to her stomach as he did. Eventually he flipped her over and gripped her shoulders, then eventually he slid across her back and hugged her from behind under her breasts tightly, putting his head by hers so that their groans and moans could be shared. Rebec laid her arm across his where he held her, and turned her head slightly to rest her cheek against his. She could have done this all night, and held herself back as long as she could. Then the pressure building through her belly with each stab would no longer allow it. Pressing back against Baldur, she said his name in a strained plea. Getting the hint and being close himself, Baldur, whilst staying in her flipped her around once more on her back and put her legs up over his shoulders, placing her feet by his head. He briefly kissed at her ankle before leaning in close just above her face, then pushed in deep, not holding back now that they both were near. His eyes were closed, but he forced himself to open them to see her expression as she grew nearer and nearer to her end as he did as well. He had his hands on her backside that was now pointing up, but they soon moved up to grip at the edge of the bed so he could pull himself up as his strong body all worked at the same time to send his pelvis pushing towards hers like a hammer pounding metal on an anvil. His whole body moved, muscles rippling like waves at sea to bring them both to a powerful end. She hovered on the brink between pleasure and pain, but there was no fear in it, and she urged him on with a steady gaze. Then her eyes went blind with whiteness and she reached up to grip Baldur's shoulders, fingernails pressing into his skin as she clutched without realizing what she did. This caused him to call out in a mix of ecstasy and pain as well, which only excited him more, causing him only to move stronger than before. This consequentially made her nails dig deeper, but it was a worthy price, one that he enjoyed paying. Finally he came to his end, his mouth open and his eyes forced shut in shock from the mind numbing pleasure that they gave each other, and his hips still quivering while he continued to release inside her moments after he was done. Doing so with his love, not worrying about making a baby but rather trying to was a freedom that he thought akin to flying, which was at the moment the only way that he could describe how she made him feel. Fitting, he thought, of a daughter of Kyne. Rebec's grip released but then she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and held him, kissing at his ear and whispering to him as they both returned to their senses. A smile crept to her lips and she opened her eyes, leaning back to touch Baldur's cheek. The subtler sensations of nearness came back to her and she drew those out, too, staying close to him and every few moments leaning in to kiss him, repeating her whispered affections. He took her hand from his cheek then and gently kissed the palm of it before finally laying down next to her with his legs tangled with hers. He gently rubbed his leg against hers while his hand ran across her back softly as well. Sometimes he wondered if he was doing her a disservice, having her try to make this baby after everything she went through. That feeling was there now and he thought it time to say something. "Reb. If by some chance, this doesn't work out...the baby...will you forgive me?" She went quiet a while, then took his hand. "I bet I want this baby more than you do." Hearing the words, they at first sounded false to her, but when tears came to her eyes, she realized it was true. Voice cracking a little, she said, "I only hope it's not something about me that made her die. If that happens again..." Her eyes moved away as the tear slipped down her cheek. "Just don't leave me, Baldur." He laced his fingers through hers now and held it firm. Looking at her a moment, he thought it best he say what he wanted to say with her as close to him as possible, so he leaned back and got under the sheets. Lifting them for her to lay on him, he said, "Come here, let me tell you something." She climbed onto him, resting her arm on his chest and her chin on top of that. The hair around her face was still damp with sweat and her cheeks rosy from exertion, but there were no more tears. He wrapped his big arms around her as she lay on him and kissed her on her damp forehead. Her groin settling on his waist comforted him with its warmth while her legs held her in place. As they settled in and he made sure she was snug and secure in the sheets, he said, "I don't think you realize just how secure you are as far as me leaving goes. There's practically nothing you can do to make me leave. Even if for some reason you slip and lay with another man. I'd be terribly hurt, I'd wring his neck with my bare bear hands and do my best to tear his body limb from limb, then watch as Karsh picks him clean. But after that, I'd walk right back to you, hold you in my arms just like this and carry on as if nothing changed. Because as far as how I feel goes, nothing would have. Sorry I brought up the baby again, but I just wanted to see what you'd say. Even if the worst comes, I'll be right there. I'll march right up to Ulfric, tell him to **** off and I quit, then we'll go off in the wilderness and build a house for ourselves and I'll make sure every day from then on is the best day you ever had. But one way or another, I'm staying right here." Rebec was watching him as he talked, smiled a little at the description of what he would do to the imaginary man, then laid her cheek down on his chest. "Thank you, Baldur. I don't know what came over me. I think about what would happen if I lost you. If you got killed in battle, that would tear me up. But if I lost your love somehow... Anyway, that's enough of that." She turned to kiss his chest, then rested back again. "About the baby, that will have to come as it may. If we hold together, we can take whatever comes. I'm not going anywhere and you don't have to worry about another man." Picking her head up, she gave him a mischievous look. "What you do to me, that's enough to make me forget there's any other man on Nirn. You can see how I like your new armor." Baldur gave a good natured laugh at the switch in subjects and ran a hand through her hair. "Yes, I can. And you can see how I liked your new outfit. You're a woman of few words, but that only makes what you do say that much better when you really mean it. And you're still the best by the way. Gotta bring my best to keep up." Smiling, she stroked his cheek. "No you don't. It's good because it's you. Nirn doesn't have to move for me to want to be right here where I am. Though by Shor, you can do that, too." Rebec laughed happily and kissed him, then put her head back down on his chest, sleep drawing on her now that the sense of vulnerability had passed. The feeling of guilt and worry had passed him now and Baldur started to succumb to his feeling of sleepiness as well. He hadn't told her, but her warmth on him made him feel safe and secure as well. He thought it an odd feeling to express as a man, even for a bard, so it wasn't one he shared yet. He thought on some level, Rebec already understood it anyway. Perhaps it was confidence. Or acceptance. Welcoming warmth like the sun's rays. Sun. He remembered his book and that she had read it and knew she in fact did understand, because he had already shown her. The way he held her now was very comforting because he felt like he was protecting her, keeping her safe from the world. He knew she didn't need it, but he was glad she let him do so anyway. Feeling that she was safe in turn made him feel so as well and allowed him to start to sleep as well. Just before fading away for the night for good, he looked down to her one last time with sleep filled eyes and said, "I love you, Rebby." Her reply was an inarticulate sleepy mumble against his chest, which must have been something like "and I you." Rebec couldn't express it, but the quality of her life had changed for good and even in the midst of her fears, she sensed it and thus was easily comforted. Even if the gods parted them somehow, the security he gave her was something she carried with her, and it made everything better, the lows less low and the highs something inexpressible. *** As Veleda lay awake that night, her eyebrows smarting from the tweezer treatment the admiral had warned her about, she had fears enough to sift through, as well. The assurance that eventually calmed her into sleep was that what she was about to do was critical enough that it was worth doing even if she failed.

Tacitus Meridius The Imperial Palace Morning, a few day before Tullius' death The office of the High Admiral was a cramped, small affair. Rather appropriate, Tacitus thought grimly, it reflects the way most generals and politicians feel about the navy. Even before the events in Skyrim, the navy was always the ugly stepchild of the Imperial military. Low funding, few upgrades, old ships, they got the short end of the stick. It had only gotten worse in Skyrim, the naval battle a very one sided affair. The Nord ships didn't outnumber the Imperials, yet they knew the waters better, and how to navigate the Sea of Ghosts. The superior seamanship and navigation ability spelt doom for the Imperial navy, their only saving grace the sinking of the Harpycommand ship, which prompted the Nords to halt their attack. The damage had been done, however, and the Imperial navy was forced to pull back. Now most ships sat in the harbors of Anvil, Leyawiin, and the Imperial City, lacking repairs and properly trained crew. This was all slowly, painfully, changing. The training had been updated, slowed down slightly, and was churning out at least semi competent sailors. This was all done on minimal funding, of course, as the legion got most of the military budget. Tacitus hated the generals and politicians for it, knowing that for the Thalmor to be defeated a strong navy was as important as a strong infantry. It was really the politicians that Tacitus hated though, their constant meddling in the affairs of the military. Tacitus didn't try to control taxation, or road maintenance, so why should they bother the generals and admirals? The High Admiral had not noticed that his quill furiously scratched the parchment underneath, so he wadded it up and tossed it towards a bin. Pulling out a new scroll, he penned a message for the shipping companies of Anvil and Leyawiin. By order of the Empress, all ships in the galley, dromon, or caravel class can be conscripted for service in the event the crown requires their use. All those unwilling to comply will be brought to trial. Any ship lost will be compensated for after the war, in due time. Tacitus Meridius, High Admiral The seaman hated this part of his job, knowing he was taking away people's livelihoods. But it was part of war, and he knew that without the merchant ships to serve as support, supply, and transport vessels the Imperial Navy stood little chance against the already superior Altmer Navy. Tacitus frowned, as he read scouting reports from the waters outside Bravil. The skooma kingpins had taken almost all of the city, and were now trying to exert their influence in the surrounding waters as well. A small skirmish resulted in a few sailors being injured, and a sailing skiff slightly damaged from a ramming by a drug smugglers dingy. Someone needs to take care of that already. As if we don't have enough to worry about, we have a whole city under control by skooma high lunatics, Tacitus thought, shaking his head grimly. He had been lucky to get his parents out in time. The day the kingpins made the move his family had been inspecting the Tempest, which allowed them an easy escape once the riots started. Otherwise, his parents would probably be held hostage, and ransomed off for a large sum of septims. The next paper the admiral had to attend to was battlemage distribution. This would be tricky, as he was only allowed one hundred of the total five hundred battlemages the Empire had. They would probably be less useful on the ramming galleys and dromons, so instead Tacitus assigned about four to each of the twenty five carracks he expected to have under his control. That number was malleable, obviously, for some sh*t face merchant might decide to sail away with his, or sell it to the Redguards. Of course, the opposite was true, and construction on the few ships being but could finish in time for the next Great War, which would be a bonus. Shuffling through the rest of the stack, Tacitus saw nothing of immediate concern, so instead stood and straightened his vest, before leaving for the court mage's office. In his short time in the palace, he'd learned the real power, at least privately, was the Nord Skjari, so Tacitus took the decree he'd written earlier with him for a final look over. Tying his blonde hair up as he walked down the halls, Tacitus reached the wizards office shortly thereafter. He knocked on the door, hoping the mage was in. Though no one opened and there came no sound or any other sign from the inside that anyone was in. Tacitus knocked again and waited but still nothing. He was about to leave when he saw the wizard approach down the hallway. "Admiral." He gave Tacitus a quick nod. "You need something?" Tacitus returned the nod, then handed him the decree. "I was told to pen this, and I assumed someone would want to look over it before we sent it off." Skjari read the paper and then handed it back to to Tacitus. "Lets hope it does not come to that. But we'll do it if it is deemed necessary." "I assure you, that this is more inevitable than you think. We'll need the merchant ships to serve as resupply and support vessels. The Aldmeri navy, is, by every report we got before they shut us down, much more powerful than ours." Tacitus read over the decree again as well, then looked up. "Would you like me to send it off?" "You wrote it so it might just as well be you that send it off. And I've been thinking a little on how to get more funding for the navy." He started to walk a little down the hallway. "Mind for a walk while we talk?" Tactius folded the parchment and slid it in his vest. "Not at all," he almost growled. He wasn't adverse to walks, or talks, but would rather be on his ship than in a palace talking about funding and decrees. "Right now the funding to the navy is somewhat thin as you already know. Most people think that they aren't that necessary or useful, partly due to the failure in Skyrim and because any invasion the Dominion will try will have to go to land eventually. So I got an idea to put the navy to some use and to help you earn some new funding. You don't really mind if it's a bit unconventional?" "The 'failure' in Skyrim was do in no small part to the incompetency of the White-Gold. But yes, I'll at least humor the suggestion." "And with the White Gold Concordant broken we are actually at war with the Dominion, at least formally. But what I have in mind is that you take some of the fleet to Dominion waters and start raiding their merchant and transport ships. Their navy may be more powerful but I doubt even they can be everywhere at once. You'll put some pressure on the Dominion and you'll earn some new funds from the raids, while also showing that the navy still has it's uses and thus will more likely to receive more funding from the state. You think it would be possible?" For the first time since his promotion to High General, Tacitus Meridius smiled, a big ugly grin that wrinkled his crooked nose and showed just how happy he was. "And to think, I thought you were going to suggest something awful! Yes, I will be more than happy get this under way. The easiest targets will be Valenwood and Elswyr, so we'll start there. I'll break the two fleets into smaller flotillas, with orders to not engage enemy warships. We raid every merchant vessels coming in and out of both provinces, put the fear of man in 'em, and hopefully get some of the bureaucrats to pull their heads out when it comes to dispersing funds." "When your ships come back to port filled with spoils of war, they will very likely want to give you more funds so you can come back with even more spoils. And feel free to take their ships as well if you can." "I'll give the orders as soon as possible, and I'll probably accompany the first flotilla to oversee the first raid. I'll return after that, but I want to be there to command the first attacks." "I wont stop you. If you feel you can do a better job on your ship than in an office, then you do that. Feel free to move part of your office to your ship if you think you can manage fulfilling your other duties as high admiral from there. And if you manage to identify any valuable person on the ships you raid I would suggest that you take them prisoner so they can be held for ransom." "I'll see how much I can get done from my ship, and the rest I can do when we are between raids. And I'll take the high ranking ones prisoner, if possible. Some captains would rather go down with their ship than be taken prisoner. Is there anything else?" "If you find any skooma ship runners when you pass Bravil, torch them, along with the crew. To make an example." "Will do." With that Tacitus turned back from where he came, intent on getting as much paperwork done before he made the call for the ships to get ready to raid.

Lucienus Valerius, Imperial City, Afternoon, In the desolate sewers of the imperial city, a single figure was running. He was ravaged, with wounds on his legs and arms. He was in the standard issue equipment of the Pentiulas Occultus, and he was running for his very life. He was helmetless, and was limping on his right leg, his breathing was erratic and uncontrolled, and his uniform was stained with the blood of himself and his comrades. I need to get- With a flash of steel, the man screamed in pain, as a steel blade entered his left leg. From the shadows emerged a man, he wore a black longcoat along with dark leather boots and gloves. His hair was brown, but it was so dark it appeared black, his eyes shone a luminous violent, and a grim smile was on his lips. He slowly approached the downed agent, who was struggling to get away. In a fit of desperation the agent attempted to get past the man, only to receive a boot in the gut, causing the agent to be thrown to the wall. He began to cough loudly and hold his chest in agony, as another blade went flying towards the mans head, only to embed itself right of the man. Suddenly, those violet orbs were directly infront of him, gazing into his soul. Those eyes flickered in the shadows, in a splendid flash of color. They looked hungry. Before he could gasp in fear, the dark man spoke to him, in a refined and polite voice, "My good sir, i'm sure your aware escape is not an option to you, all of your fellow agents have fallen to my blade, and reinforcements are unlikely to come." He gave him a cheerful smile, "If you answer my questions truthfully, i'll leave you." The agent didn't want to die, he was merely following orders , he had a wife and a little boy, he wanted to return to them. Fear of never seeing there radiant face's made him nod his head. The man said, "Excellent. Shall we begin then? Why would Spymaster Quentas deploy a squad of Pentiulas Occultus agents to the sewers?" The agent spoke fast and quick, "We-were ordered to guard the secret entrance, just in case-" He suddenly shut his mouth, the man, who didn't seem like he was in a patient mood, yanked the blade out of the wall, and shoved it into the agents shoulder, causing the man to scream out in pain, Lucienus dropped the smile and adopted a neutral facial expression, "I'm a very busy man, but I have a good two hours to spare, I can assure you, sir, after i'm finished with you, you'll be begging for the dungeons of Cold Harbor." The man said, with a sadistic smile forming once again, "I advice you to loosen your tongue." Before he could take another action, the man spoke up, "Enough, the former Spymaster Lorgar Grim-maw is coming to the city, we were told to ambush him if he entered threw the sewer." The dark man's facial expression became darker, and he lost the smile for a few seconds, before it returned. The man got up from his kneeling position, and left the wounded agent alone. He waved his hand to him as he left, "Well then, thank your for your cooperation, have a nice day." The agent sighed in relief, and closed his eyes, he would live. ... Until many glowing eyes could be seen penetrating darkness, with fang filled mouths drooling in hunger. The dark man disappeared in a flash of darkness, as he he heard the sounds of human screams, and flesh tearing.

Skjari, Tullius Imperal city gates Late morning As much as Skjari would have wanted to keep an eye on Tullius the whole time, he didn't want Tullius nearby when he ordered Lilly to discretely send Oculatus agents to Bruma and Chorrol to find Jon's envoys and kill them on sight, in front of the counts themselves if need be. He had also wanted to change clothes to something a bit simpler but the blue nordic noble clothes would have to do. At least he always had Nahkriin by his side. The sky was clear and sunny but in the north he could see dark clouds gather as he now made his way through the busy streets of the Talos Plaza District towards the city gate. Tullius was waiting for the nord, clad in his standard general armor, at the gate. "Ready to go?" The wizard asked the general. "Yes" the old imperial said. "Lead the way." Tullius said something under his breath and took point, leaving the gate. They walked on the road for around forty minutes, until they had gotten to an imperial fort, which was occupied by 2nd legion soldiers. Once inside the fort Skjari stepped forth and shouted in a commanding tone. "Jon Hard-Heart have declared himself an enemy of the Ruby Throne. He seeks to shatter this Empire even further. On orders from the Imperial City, prepare to move out and and surround this treasonous army." Tullius in a split second, made a decision. He brought his hands up, and stepped forward. "That is a lie, Jon Hard-heart seeks to strengthen the Empire." Still a traitor then. "He seeks to shatter this Empire. He wants to split the counties away and make them independent. Cyrodiil can not stand without unity against the Dominion." "That's a half-truth, he wants them to become a client state to the Empire, so we can focus are resources on the main line of defense near Valenwood." "And for what? To raise independent private forces? Forces that could otherwise have been legionaries. Do you have no faith in the legion? You fought tooth and nail in Skyrim with limited resources to keep this Empire together. The legion in Skyrim managed to hold together and only because of a demigod did you lose. You are turning your back on everything you stood and fought for. You have no faith in unified Cyrodiil. You have no faith in that the legion can pull through and defend what remains." Skjari subtly cast an illusion spell on Tullius, calming him the best he could while also silencing his mouth, both with sound and so it looked like his mouth didn't move even if Tullius decided to open it. "This man is a hypocrite and a disgrace to the Empire and the legion. He dishonor every soldier that have serve under him and have served under him. Is this a man you wish to follow? Is this the man you hope will lead you against the Thalmor?" The crowd was silent, a few was lightly shaking their heads and some looked at Tullius with a mix of shock and disbelief, some others with just plain disdain and Tullius could almost swear that the closest to him took a step back. Skjari started walking to the side of Tullius, their rights turned to each other and faces turned into opposite directions. "This man is a traitor and traitors..." Check mate... Tullius knew what was going to happen, he could almost see the Nord's sword being drawn from it's sheaf. The flawless stalhrim blade. Time slowed down, and Tullius was certain this was his death. A slight smile appeared on his lips, as he gazed at the imperial standard flowing in the wind, he softly chuckled. I'm coming to join Marius now, goodbye Lorgar, my brother... Tullius head almost flew off as Nahkriin cut through the general's neck. "Die!" Skjari shouted before picking up the head with his left hand and holding it high up in the air. "This will be the fate or anyone who seeks to shatter this Empire or it's legion even further. And this will be an example that treason will not be tolerated, no matter your rank. Cyrodiil will endure."

Skjari, Dales Imperial palace Morning Running an Empire wasn't easy. The count of Cheydinhal must be either crazy or very ambitious to want this job, or both. Skjari hadn't yet figured out if which he himself was. A lot of things that needed his attention, but first thing on the list for this day was to check in on Dales's wedding plans. He knocked on the door to her room for a second before stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The court mage could hear moans of pleasure, as he entered the sound proof room. Dales was laying on her bed stark naked. A blue haired girl was on her back slowly massaging her shoulders. It was one of dales maids, Miku. She slowly turned her head flashing a fox like smile, "Greetings milord" Skjari had never understood why Miku had had a wizard color her hair blue. Must have costed quite a bit of gold. But right now it didn't matter. "Leave us. Now." He said, his voice sounding both a bit impatient and troubled. She bowed her head, still smiling. She kissed Dales lightly on the cheek before leaving the room. Dales blushed slightly ashamed. "You said nothing about massages." He took a seat in the chair near the bed. "I want to check in you little wedding plans." Dales voice suddenly became high pitched and apologetic, she was smiling warmly, "Why? Your such a busy man, you don't have time to look at meager and mundane things such as a sham wedding." "Because it is not 'mundane', it is the ceremony that will be the start to defining my rule." Her eyes started to twitch slightly, before getting out of her bed in a flash, showing her perky breasts to the court mage. "Ummm. It seems I might have misplaced the plans for the wedding. I'll go ask Raine or Claudia if they have them." She began to head to the door, putting on her robe as she did. "I'll come with you." He said as he got up from the chari and then followed Dales. Dales turned around, her face covered in a small amount of sweat, "Ummmm...don't bother yourself dear, why don't you stay here and relax, or better yet plot about all the tyranny and impression you'll bring once you marry me." "Tyranny? And what are you hiding? Answer." That's an order. He said casually as he crossed his arm. Dales still sweating handed the wizard a document which she procured from the chest near the doorway. Skjari looked over the document and couldn't believe what he read and saw. So much pink and girly things he thought he was marrying a twelve year old girl. After looking over the document for another two times just to make sure his eyes wasn't deceiving him, he torched the the paper to ash within less than a second. "I'm trying to keep the throne strong and respected and this Empire from falling apart. And you want to ruin all of that for a pink frilly wedding?" Her eyes became downcast "It wasn't that pink or frilly..." She began to fidget. He shook his slightly. "It was. The wedding shall be grand. In blood red and gold as the main color theme. Maybe with some black, blue and dark purple as secondary colors. No pink. And no frills. Is that understood?" "But... no... never mind, just a foolish school girls sentiment." She dug her nails into her hand and her eyes filled with hatred she never showed towards her master. "Yes sir." She rudely turned her back and before excusing herself strode out of the room. "Get back here." That's an order. Dales face filled with pain and her face twisted into a snarl ignoring it she dug her feet into the ground and defiantly said. "I don't want to." Skjari put his face in his palm as he shook his head. If she resisted too much the fail safe would trigger and send her soul to the Soul Cairn. "Come back here. I think I need to explain a few things for you." He said with a much friendlier tone. After a few more seconds Dales gave in and walked back into the room. Skjari closed the door behind her and sat down in the chair next to the bed again. "You might want to sit down. What you just did isn't easy on the mind or body." He gestured to the bed. Dales didn't even have a chance as she fell to her knees and began to vomit bile and blood. Skjari sighed, felt like he had done that a lot lately. Dales wasn't as strong as his old Wraiths, which was now shown clearly as those few that had resisted before had at worst only needed to sit or lie down for a few minutes. Though the blood was a bit unsettling as that couldn't have been because of the binding as that wasn't made to cause any direct physical injuries. He cast a healing spell on her. "Are you ready to listen?" "I am... I... I'm sorry I lost my temper for a stupid and childish reason... a dumb promise." "What promise? And what have you eaten for you to vomit blood?" Dales was starting to sweat even more and her face was becoming extremely pale she tiredly said. "I... had some pie... I don't feel good." She collapsed. This was definitely not an affect of her resisting the binding. And her state of health was on a decline, and he didn't need to use magic to tell that she's most likely been poisoned. He got up from his chair and quickly walked over to Dales and put his hand on her shoulder. He started to cast a powerful healing spell while also teleporting them to his home. The gaze went black for a second and when he looked up he saw the statue of Alduin roar at him and the giant crystal in the dome roof high above them. He was certain he could quite easily purge the poison and the heal any damage without much effort and help, but he never liked taking unnecessary risks of being too confident. A few seconds later the poison was purged and any damage it had caused was healed. It had been bad, but not worse than he could heal. Dales eyes opened and she faintly smiled. However, she wasn't quite well. Most likely due to the recent trauma, she seemed to be delirious. She wasn't smiling at Skjari. With a smile on her sweat drenched face she said. "Elan? Don't worry I kept my word. We can have a pink wedding." "I'm not Elan. And I think she would prefer if you stayed alive and well than just having a pink wedding." She looked at him, strangely despite the healing she was still sweating and she was developing an intense fever. "Your not? Were is she then?" Her skin was still was pale as a ghosts and she was weakly trying to stand. Skjari cast a levitation spell and when she fell she landed softly. "Get a hold of yourself." That's an order. "She's dead and you're not. Better get used to it." Though Dales had already lost conscious and she was snoring. She looked awful. Skjari drew a heavy sigh and cast another levitation spell at her so she wouldn't have to sleep on the floor, before he got up and walked to over to his throne and sat down. He decided to wait some time for Dales to rest. He felt she needed to hear what he wanted to say. Dales swam at the bottom of the abyss for what seemed like an eternity, grasping dark images in her shadowed nightmares. Her fear nearly consumed her. And then she awoke, with a cry of sweat her vision returned, and she lazily got up and stretched her arms. It was dark out, and the sun had nearly set. Dales herself felt awful, and very tired. She sheepishly checked her temperature, and noticed it was scorching. Her memory was very hazy, and she couldn't recall anything today. "Awake at last?" Skjari asked both a bit friendly and impatiently. "What?" It took little for her vision to adjust, and noticed a darkened man. It was her liege lord and master. "Master, its that you?" "Yes, it's me." He said wearily. "You sound annoyed. What do you need?" She asked curiously. "I feel I need to explain a few things to why I don't like your plans for the wedding." "Huh? It's too pink and girly right? So just toss it away." Dales said, glancing at him weirdly, "When did you look at my plans?" "You don't remember?" He already knew the answer, so before Dales could respond he cast a spell at her, channeling the vision of all he had seen and heard since he walked in on her and Miku. Him burning the plans, her trying to walk out in fury, the poisoning and her delirious talk about Elen. She looked in horror, and fear "Wait what? I would never do that. You know me. I was Delirious? I don't remember any of this..." "We'll deal with the poisoning afterwards. But right now I think I should tell you why it shouldn't be pink and frilly." He paused for a second. "You are viewed as weak. And the pink and frills reinforce that image of you. If the wolves that are the nobles smell to much weakness, or worse the Thalmor. Things will not end well for you. If you're lucky you'll get a decent job as a servant in High Rock, if you're unlucky you'll have a collar and leash around your neck while being used as a sex slave by some Thalmor justiciar. Or you might simply die. I'm trying to keep that from happening." "You gave me this speech when we first meet, if you recall." She said, weakly smiling. "Then why do I need to repeat myself?" "I wasn't myself... I don't know. Lately I've been feeling very... sad." "Why? Because of Elen?" She curled up into a ball. "I just feel scarred. Whenever I close my eyes, I see her crimson stained body and the battered corpse of the dominion assassin looking at me, eyes wide open." "She wont come back. You better get used to it." "I know. I tried burying myself in alcohol, and then tried to forget by ******* ever girl I saw. The pain never goes away. When you loose something, you never get it back." I don't need to be reminded of such things. "Now back to running an Empire. You shall plan the wedding in the way I suggested and I will check in every day to make sure things are appropriate. And you must also sell every pink and frilly dress you own and get some new clothes befitting of an empress. If it is pink or frilly, you sell it." "Yes master." She tiredly began to stretch. And got up to her feet, looking at the surroundings, she knew she was in her masters private sanctuary. Sometimes, I wish Lorgar would have just let me die.. "If you will nice to send me back." "We're not done talking just yet. When we get back you will stay in your bedchamber and rest for the rest of the day. I'll go get Miku and ask about this pie you ate. Then I'll send her or some other maid to look after you, we'll say you've fallen ill and must rest and not to be disturbed. I don't want the poisoner to know they've failed just yet. And no moaning when you're with a maid. You need to be discrete." "Of course." "Good." He got up from the throne and walked over to Dales and put his hand on her shoulder. "The Empire is balancing on the edge of a knife. We can not afford any missteps. I hope you understand why I'm so strict. These are hard times and we have to suffer through them." "I do understand sir." Dales said bowing her head. Everything went black for a second before they found themselves standing in Dales bedchamber again. "Get some rest." Gods know I need it. And the day has only just begun. Dales took off her clothing and went under her beds covers, eventually falling as sleep. And Skjari walked out the room and carefully closed the door behind him. First thing he needed to find Miku, whom he found alone in the servant's quarters, reading a thick book. "Miku, we need to talk. In private." She put the large tome down, and looked at the man curiously, before nodding to him, "Most of the other servants and maids went to the bath house for some relaxation, they wont be returning for another hour, this is as private as you need milord." "Good. Don't you think it's a bit too early to eat pie in the morning?" "Pie?" Her eyes filled with realization "Oh that pie, the one her majesty was eating? She offered me some, but I already pigged out downstairs on some beef, so I declined ." She said, chuckling. "Well why would she eat pie so early in the morning? Did you bring her this pie?" "Me? No... now that you think about it... I recall one of the servants, Laura, a bosmer the one who delivered the pie to her." "Where is this... Laura now?" She she shrugged. "She wasn't with the other maids." "Great." He said sarcastically. "Anyway, you should go look after Dales, she's resting in her chambers." He paused for a second. "And the pie was poisoned. Though I managed to purge it from her body and heal any damage. Now just keep quiet about this. And don't let anyone see Dales. Tell them she's ill and needs rest." Miku's eyes filled with shock. "Dales was poisoned?!" Miku nodded her head quickly and ran out of the door towards Dales bedchamber. That was one less thing to do. But also some more with the appearance of this strange maid. But now he walked to the spymaster's office, opened the door and walked in without even bothering to knock. Lilly was at her desk with her long platinum hair sprawled across her shoulder. She was in her normal white and violet dress along with a white flower in her hair. She didn't bother to get up, "Need something, master mage?" He closed the door and sat sank rather than sat down in the chair near her desk. "Busy morning." He remained quiet for a moment to gather his thoughts. "You once said that you were well versed in alchemy." "I am." She said simply while taking a sip of water from a glass on her table. "What do you know about a poison that causes vomit of bile and blood, deliriousness, unconsciousness and memory loss?" Her eyes remained calm. "Those effects are all common with toxins, except memory loss... as far as i'm aware the only herb I know of with that effect is moonles, which only grows in the Summerset Isles." "And what do you know of a bosmer maid called Laura?" "There isn't a maid named Laura." "Well that explains a lot. What do you know of a bosmer dressed as a maid entering the palace, giving Dales a pie, spiced with the same poison of which I just described the effects of?" "Her majesty was poisoned!" Lilly's face filled with dread. Ignoring Skjari's first question she said "Is she alright?" "I managed to heal her up. She's resting and Miku is looking after her. No one else is also allowed to see her right now. I only want it to be known that she's ill and needs some rest. Now back to my question." She sighed in relief. "Thank the divine. Now, I don't know anything about a maid. Do by any chance have her physical appearance?" "No. But Miku or the other maids might know. You can ask them. But don't mention any poisoning. If the bosmer is still in the city, I don't want it to get out that the attempt failed or that there's been an attempt at all. The poisoner would go under ground if she knew we knew. Saying that's she's simply ill and needs rest could more likely give off the illusion that the poison is still in effect and hasn't been discovered yet." "I don't think so. If she's using moonless she's no amateur. It's better safe then sorry, I think she would go underground regardless." "You're probably right. But I don't want her to know we're searching for her. And you should have the food stores looked over in case there is anything more that is poisoned." "I'll have it done. I'll start investigating this bosmer girl right away." "Good, she should only have an hour two's head start." He got up from the chair and hesitated for a moment, the morning had been stressful, but there was no time to use Lilly to let out some of that frustration. He walked out the room and made his way to the office of the grand general, hopefully Tullius would be there, and he better be cooperative. He opened the door without knocking as well and found Tullius in the office, looking over a large pile of documents. To his right, was presumably a tea pot, along with a container filled with sugar and milk. Skjari closed the door and sat down in a chair in a corner of the room and leaned back, trying to relax a bit. "We got a problem." "Hmmm, which is?" Tullius said, keeping his eyes on his papers. "That the time to tolerate Jon's disloyalty and separatist agenda is at an end. And that he claims that you are his co-conspirator. You need to explain that part. And there's also the small matter of that Dales just survived a poisoning by what I believe is a Thalmor agent." "Hmmmm, she has a knack for surviving assassinations doesn't she?" Tullius said, still looking at his documents, "I thought you Stormcloaks were supposed to guard there leaders with reverence and fanatically? Letting in an assassin was sloppy." He yawned, "The dominion is everywhere it cant be helped." "I'm not a Stormcloak, I never took the oath. I am sworn to no one. And you still need to explain the co-conspirator part." "Whoever told you that, has a very broad opinion about me being a co-conspirator. The legion is spread very thinly, are "allies" hate us, and the empire is on the verge of dying. I do what is necessary to keep it alive. Bruma and Chorrol becoming client kingdoms would take some strain off the legion and the White Gold. There still imperial citizens, pay imperial taxes, but are indepedent from being controlled by the elder council, and her majesty." "Why play separatist now? Legion was already spread thin when you fought in Skyrim." "The legion was concentrating on the borders to the dominion, leaving me with little forces. I did my best, but what can you do against a demi-god from Akatosh?" Said Tullius reading threw even more. "Now, the legion is barely recovering from all the desertions,deaths, and moral shattering bills passed by her majesties father. We need to focus on the border to Valenwood and the sea. We cant afford to spare legionary's at the Skyrim border. That where Count Balgruaf comes in." "But letting them go independent and raise their own forces will just give them the incentive to leave the southern border to fend for itself. They separating from the Empire wont help the legion. Instead of raising their own forces they should help the legion. And Balgruuf is too loyal and would understand that it's better to aid the legion in his county than to play separatist. And the Quentas risk to lose quite a bit if they go the separatist route. This is just a cover-up for Jon to gather support. He seeks power." "Balgruaf is loyal to his people above all else, and to the Empire. I already sent a note explaining everything to him, he's not seprating from the empire, just loosing the control that White-Gold has over his Countie. Lady Quentas would more then happily claim more power for herself, while remaining loyal to the empire. Not everyone is after personal power." Skjari straightened his back. "I will not allow what's left of this Empire to falter and deviate. That will only bring instability. If one county leaves then others will follow." "The empire is already about to deviate and collapse. We are at the brink of war, most of our territories have been taken or left themselves. We have nothing left. This is the only way." Skjari drew a sigh and started to channel the magic. He got up from the chair and walked over to the desk, put a hand on it's side and shoved it into the wall. Before Tullius could react he found Skjari's iron grip around his neck as he was lifted into the air. "I will not allow any insurrection. I will not allow Cyrodiil to be chattered because of your delusions. Now you will gather the troops guarding Jon's little army and surround them. Then force them to be either assimilated into the legion or give up their weapons and armor. Jon will be arrested for treason and executed. Cyrodiil will stand united." He started at the mage, as the grasp on his neck grew tighter. Finally he tried drawing a sigh but ended up coughing instead and then said. "Yes milord." "Good." He let go of the general and let him fall to the ground, coughing. "Gather the men. I want Jon's army surrounded before noon. And Jon executed before dusk. And if you don't want Jon to drag you with him on to a traitors death, you are going claim to be the one that helped expose his treason." "It will be done." said the general, grasping his throat. "I'll meet you outside the gates. You are doing this on orders from the empress. I'll just be following to help persuade one nord to another to get them to join the legion." He then walked out of the room with determined steps, leaving the general to recover.

Samuel, Lucienus Imperial City Night The night was out, along with the stars sparkling above the majesty of the imperial city, ancient pathways of marble and granite formed the streets, Imperial guardsman patrolled, but there ranks were spread thin, with only a handful patrolling in this area. Thieves and vagabonds roamed under the shadows. Samuel himself was taking a walk in this area, while the stars and moon shone pale light. As he passed an alleyway, a dark whisper reached his ears, "You should be careful, even daemons should fear the dark. Never know when a knife from the void comes to claim you." "Actually, I would," Samuel stepped out of the shadows. Whoever the poor sod he had used to cover for himself was was freed from the spell and started to wander off. He'd be dissy for a few hours, before he'd forget all about it. Wouldn't work on anyone with a reasonably strong will, but there were plenty of people without it in the city to pick from. "I'm the Demon of the Thousand Faces, meaning I've always got a face watching you." "Very true though I wonder, what's more horrifying, a wraith, or a daemon?" Said the dark voice, chuckling, "It's been a quite long time, Maurice, or do you prefer Samuel?" Said the man, who also emerged from the dark. He looked young, had dark brown hair, medium build and height, and wore a black longcoat. He's eyes were a luminous violet, glowing in the shadows. "Does it matter? They're all false, all Masks," Samuel shrugged. He himself was wearing some simple commoner's clothes. "So the Count decided to put you on the job for finding whoever sent the assassin after me. Fantastic." "What's wrong with me, Laurence?" He used the name the daemon used when he helped cause the annihilation of his clan. "Nothing. Believe it or not, I wasn't being sarcastic. I'm thrilled that you're on the job. Now I can spend my time elsewhere, while you confirm or disprove my theories." "And your theories are?" He said raising his eyebrowns, "I already know must about the man who tried to kill you, The assassins name is Haiden, he's a Redguard and he's middle aged. An archer and hunter of uncanny skill, specialize in making things look like a failed robbery, thus avoiding the assassin hunting people. He used to work for a mercenary firm back in Hammerfall, but went to free lancing after an argument on wages with his captain. A large sum of four thousand septims were transferred to his account they day he attacked you." "I can't tell you those theories, now can I?" Samuel let out a laugh, short, but surprisingly friendly for someone of the Order. "Ultimately you will start to twist the facts to fit whatever theory you want to be true the most, instead of twisting your theories to suit the facts. Which is why I'm glad you're here. Saves me of evaluating every possibility from an as neutral perspective as possible from several points of view, by looking at the facts without knowing my theories and thus without my bias." "You mean paranoia. Most members of the Order Vampyrum i've seen that are your age constantly look to the shadows for a knife in the dark, make up outlandish theories, and see enemies that dont exist am I wrong?" The vampire said, with a slight smile curving on his lip, "The most recent notable enemy you made , Lorgar Grim-Maw, is firmly uninterested in you, so he's not a suspect. The second most recent, Baldur Red-Snow, dosen't have the kind of cash to pay an assassin of Haiden's level, so he's crossed off. The third, Marius Imperius, is five feet under, so, he automatically dosen't fit the bill." "Grim-Maw? Ha, even with the Penitus Oculatus working for him, he'd be unable to even get in contact with our assassin. Haiden would never work for a rank amateur like him." Samuel stepped back into the shadows, making it hard even for Lucenius to keep track of where he was by obscuring himself with magic. "Don't forget, Wraith, that I am the one they are looking out for. When a lord is nervously watching the shadows... it is because of me and all that I represent. I'm not on the receiving end, my dear Wraith." "My lord would't bother sending an assassin, I can assure you." Said the vampire, unfazed by the ancient imperial's display of shadow, "That's very true, you exemplify what you represent, you display arrogance like no other, but at the same time you back your ability to work in the shadows, you make anyone who stands in your way disappear, and nothing binds you. At the end of the day, you order folks are on top for a reason." Said wraith bowing his head in mocking reverence, "Molag Bal laughs and dances in his shadowed palace, as he watches you dominate and express your will throughout Tamriel, he waits for the day when he can devour a blackened soul like yours. Daemon." He chuckled, "I'm a phantom, a wraith. I dont exist, as does my nameless and forgotten clan. I work in the dark, and serve whomever is bounded to me to the best of my ability, I cant compare to you, i'm afraid, Daemon." "He should be so lucky." "I wouldn't say that." Said the vampire, smiling, "By the way, I went to visit your pupil, a very...interesting person. She's very much taking after you." "Of course she is. I wouldn't bother with her if she was boring." Samuel came out of the shadows again, leaning against the wall. He didn't look at Lucienus, but rather made sure that no one came to close to them. "I orignally suspected her ladyship to be involed in this whole affair, wouldn't be the first time a member of the order plotted against there superior. I was proven wrong she seems ignorant of the entire thing." "Perhaps. I wouldn't conclude anything yet. The sands are ever shifting, I think Haiden would say. Over the course of time, nothing remains the same." "Your are of course, excluded from that statement. You'll always be the daemon of thousand faces, right up to your souls departure to Cold-Harbor." Wraith side, going back into the darkness. "As much as I would love to talk about meaningless subjects, I came her for information. Do you have any idea, that don't break your orders secrets, about the person who hired our dear assassin? Or any leads?" "The contractor has considerable knowledge of the underworld, getting a hold of an assassin like that. And likely know who I am, given that I have changed up the Masks again since I left Skyrim. And they're reasonably well-funded; Haiden won't work for cheap." "So most likely a nobleman or woman then?" "Or a wealthy merchant. Or a warlord. Or another information broker. Anyone who could have the resources and opportunities," Samuel nicked out a small bottle from his shirt, taking a sip. "Likely someone who's been around for a while. Not necessarily like we've been around for a long time, but maybe a family. Father and son, mother and daughter. Sentiment and revenge are as good as inherited from your parents." "If that's the case, then which persona would they know to target? As you say, you switched your face as you always do. Unless of course there aware of..." wraiths mouth twisted into a smile "They know your real name and face" "Yes, I'm glad you finally caught up to that little detail. Perhaps you should seek out a healer to look at your ears; I already mentioned that possibility." "Forgive me milord' I have much on my mind as we speak. "Wraith bowed his head in apology. "Regardless, this is troubling,as old as I am, I never recall your real name." "There are exactly four people who know what my name is, among the living. Sort of among the living. The Bathory vampires. But I don't think my actual name matters. Too narrow, too little motivation, to easy to discover for myself and beyond the expected reach of your grasp. No, more likely someone who know that I am the Demon. Sadly this list includes many notable figures within the Order." "Perhaps a certain vampire is tired of his position and wants to seize your accursed job for himself. Being darius's guardog doesn't sound pleasent to me." "You mean that I'm tired of my position and is trying to usurp Darius'," Samuel let out a chuckle. He hadn't moved much, just letting his eyes take in the environment. "And using this deal with the assassin as some sort of distraction." Wraiths eyes narrowed in samuels direction. He chuckled darkly, "Order politics are so entertaining, and never caese to be surprising. You know if your discovered, he will be merciless." "Good thing I'm not stupid enough to do something as stupid as this to distract Darius then. What could possibly come out of me getting myself wounded and wasting a whole lot of money, only to put myself into the spotlight of his attention? Of course, though you'll never be able to take my word for it entirely since you have to investigate, one of my general ideas is that someone is using this to draw attention towards me and away from themselves. At least from where I'm, or at least where you are, standing, that is a better explanation." "We'll then I wish you good day daemon. I thank you for your assistance."And with that the vampire disappeared in a flash of darkness. "Hmm," Samuel said to himself, looking at the spot where Lucienus had been. It was hard to say what he would come up with, this wetworker. But for now he might as well go ahead and confirm his theories. Or not. No guarantee he would succeed in his investigation. Shaking his head for a second, Samuel started to head in the direction of the Imperial Prison district. He had something to discuss with one of the jailers.

Catia, Milly The Laughing Fox Morning Ughhhh... Millerius Quentas woke up with the same really weird feeling she's been having for the last two weeks, slight nausea, stomach problems, and occasionally throwing up. She ruffled threw her high quality sheets, and stretched out her arms. She glanced around her, she was at the Laughing Fox, being taking care of by Catia Ceno, a friend and wife to one of her husbands comrades. She fully jumped out of her bed, her usual energy was absent. It took a few minutes, but she managed to put on her usual clothing. She began to brush her hair, before a sudden revelation hit her, feminine intuition. She put on her spectacles, and ran down the hall way to Catias office, with a tired, shy, and innocent voice, she said, "Ummm Catia?" Catia sat in the Fox's office, her simple green dress complimenting the green ribbon used to tie her hair up in a bun. The ledger in front of her listed food costs, and she added together on a seperate piece of paper their total costs. Subtracting that from the total income, already having subtracted pay and maintenance, she found they came out nicely on top, as they always did. She ran a tight and frugal ship, and was continually regarded as a top notch tavern owner. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing the the young Milly, frantic and shy. "What is it, dear?" She began to blush and started to turn her ankle around, averting her eyes "Ummm...can I tell you something?" Catia wrinkled her eyebrows together, frowning slightly. "Sure, honey, you can talk to me about anythi-..." Catia didn't finish her answer though, looking Milly up and down before gasping slightly, covering her mouth as she did. "Oh my gods, you're pregnant!That would explain why you've been ill lately, and you've got this, this glow. This is such good news," she practically squealed. "I think I am..." She said her cheeks flustering at the sight of Catia's excitement. "We..we'll get a priest here to bless you, and the baby of course, to ward off any injured or diseases." Catia was moving papers around, looking for something, finally producing a paper with the name Imus Roxton scrawled on it, in a mans handwriting. "This is Gracchus' friend, priest of Talos. You might remember him from our wedding, he preformed te ceremony. Talk to him, he'll know what to do." Catia smiled, then hugged Milly tightly. "This is so exciting! I've always wanted children, but sadly neither me nor my first husband couldn't have any. Gracchus and I decided not to because of our age, so this is such good news!" Oh how sentimental... She returned the hug, smiling at catia, "Lorgar will be so excited when he finds out, as am I." She said, contuining "I do hope it's a little girl." "I hope so too! When will Lorgar be back?" Catia asked eagerly. "I dont know- Before Milly could fully respond Catia could hear a knock on the door to her office. Catia walked across the room to the door, opening it wide for the visitor. What awaited her, was an imperial man. He looked like he was in his late twenties, had very dark brown hair, almost no facial hair and a pleasant face that seemed off. He was of medium build and height, had sickly grey eyes and had snow white skin. His choice of apparel was a pitch-black long coat, along with a set of dark leather gloves and boots, which were of high quality. The aura he gave off, was cold, and dark. Something didn't seem right about this man. He gently bowed his head at the pair of girls, and spoke in a polite, if not chilling voice. "This is the Laughing Fox, correct? Your are Catia Ceno, and she is Millernius Quentas?" "Yes, I own this tavern. Catia Ceno, pleased to meet you Mister...?" Catia asked kindly, but she was wary of the man, and his strange...feel about him. "Marcus. I am...a servant to the young ladies husband, Lorgar Grim-Maw." Saying that as he bowed his head once again to the young noblewoman, who was instinctively cowering behind Catia, as if she was a child. The man, Marcus grinned slightly bringing up a sealed scroll from his hand, "I was instructed to give this to her ladyship if I happened in the area." Catia reached out and took the scroll, before handing it to Milly. "You should read it," she said to the cowering girl. "Ummm okay..." She was clinging onto the older woman, as she opened up the scroll and read it, My dearest Milly, I'm sorry I haven't been a good husband, i've been with you for only for a few weeks, before forced to leave due to work. I apologize my love, though it's unavoidable. I instructed my...servant, Marcus to give you this if he was in the imperial city, to say i'm, quite alright and i'm coming home soon. Dont worry about me, i'll be coming home soon dear. I love you. With regards, Lorgar Grim-Maw Milly, smiled and said to Catia with a happy voice, "It say's he's coming back soon!!!" she handed Catia the letter. Catia smiled again, then read over the letter. "That's wonderful! And just in time too!" Milly turned her head towards the doorway to thank Marcus, but no one was currently there Her eyes squinted, Who was that man...doesn't matter. Catia noticed the man had left as well. "That was...odd." Regardless, put on a good show. She lept onto Catia hugging her from behind, "So excited, cant wait to see his or her little nose." "This has been such a good day! Good news all around!" Catia returned the hug, smiling as she did.

Maggie, Skjari, Lucienus evening After her meeting with Jon Hard-Heart in the village of Weye, Maggie returned to the city with her royal guard. The gate guard waved them through and went back to arguing with a middle-aged couple. “Please, sir. We can’t chance the roads at this time of night. There are bandits everywhere.†“If you’ve no relatives or business in the city, be on your way.†Maggie paused to listen, and noticed that the couples’ clothing was nicely made though worn and dirty. The woman had started crying. When she saw Maggie looking at her, she stepped over to her horse. “Milady, can you help us? We’re not beggars. We’re from Leyawiin. Rioters burned our shop and we were afraid the Thalmor would be there any day, so we decided to make for the north. Bandits attacked us on the road and took everything we had.†Her husband came over, hat in hand. He was ashen-faced and appeared ashamed. “We’ve got family on a farm north of the city. We only want to stay in the city overnight, because it’s too dangerous to travel on.†After a moment, Maggie looked up towards the gate guard. “Let them in, sir. I’ll give them coin for a night’s stay at an inn.†The guard started to protest, but at a pointed look from Maggie, only grumbled, “They’ll be on the waterfront thievin’ within the week.†“Be that as it may.†Maggie turned back to the couple. “Follow me, please. I’ll take you to The Laughing Fox.†She didn’t have time for this, but used the diversion to quiz the couple about the situation in Leyawiin, Bravil and along the roads. They were stumbling with weariness, but the gist of the matter was that things were very bad. When she parted from them, the woman caught Maggie’s hand. “Where can we find you later, to repay you?†Maggie didn’t withdraw her hand, only put the other on the woman’s arm. “You can repay me by supporting the empress in these dark days.†As she hurried back to the palace, Maggie thought over her conversation with Jon and all the implications. For half a moment she considered going first to Dales to inform her about Jon’s plans, but decided against it and went to seek out Skjari instead. Though when she looked into his office he wasn't there. But there was something odd, the dragon statue held scroll in its mouth and leaning against the statue was a letter. Reading the letter, Maggie's brow lifted, but she held out a hand towards the dragon. The dragon came to life and first looked at her with suspicious eyes before stretching out it's head and dropping the scroll in her hand and then resumed it's guarding pose of it's little treasure. Maggie gave the dragon a wry smile, cautiously opened the scroll and spoke the words on it. Her view went black for a second and she found herself standing inside a large cave, facing the opening. In the distance she could see an unending ice field and the cave opening was clearly elevated in a mountain side as even though she wasn't near the the edge, she could see that the ground outside the cave was at least three dozen feet down. And in the middle of the opening she saw a familiar figure sitting at the edge, looking out over the snowy wastes. Maggie allowed her senses to return, helped by the sudden plunge into frigid cold that even a vampire could feel. Seeing the wizard, she approached. "Leaving us, Skjari?" "I'm just taking some fresh air," he said, still looking out over the wastes. Her eyes turned toward the ice field. "It is beautiful, if of a barren, forbidding sort. I'm sorry to disturb you, but there are matters which I believed could not wait. I have just met with Jon Hard-Heart." He looked at her for a second. "Sit." He said in an almost friendly manner and gestured to the edge on his right. Taking the offered seat, Maggie looked across to him. "Before I go further, I must ask: Are you sure that you even want to know? Isn't Skyrim what you really want, not the rule of a crumbling Heartland?" "I'll come back to Skyrim one day. I always do. But right now I want to crush the Dominion. And I will reforge Cyrodiil into a blade for that purpose." She pursed her lips. Jon Hard-Heart had called her a blade forged to a purpose, and now the same analogy was being used of her country. "A blade made of flesh and blood Is not so easily forged. Or wielded." Her eyes returned to the ice field, and Maggie pondered another long moment. "Were you a good king, Skjari? A good king to all your subjects?" "Depends on how you see it. I had a strict rule. Insurrection was not tolerated. But I kept my people safe and well fed." "The elves, as well?" "If you dig up some old law book, even from before my time, you'll find that elves weren't considered citizens of Skyrim. I didn't want to change that law, and neither did the people." A fine, lawyerly excuse to banish them. Maggie sighed and clasped her hands around her knees. Two Nords fighting over how best to use Cyrodiil and then discard it. Aloud she said, "Titus Mede II perhaps thought a show of resolve in his wasteful civil war would impress the Nords into continuing to offer allegiance. A pity for him he didn't realize that all we needed to do was show our weakness and Nords would be vying to save us. To my point, then. Jon Hard-Heart's ally in the Imperial City is General Tullius, or so he claims. Are you sure that the legions you posted to guard his men are not themselves disloyal?" "I'm not sure, but I'm trying to figure who is loyal and who isn't. And what does Hard-Heart want? I get the feeling you know his intentions." "I wish I could say. I am not sure that even he entirely knows. I will tell you what he told me, but we must consider that all of this is a feint, intended to make you react and perhaps overreact. As he says it, his intent is to turn Chorrol and Bruma into independent... kingdoms, I suppose, though that is a rather grand word to apply to counties. He wants to 'adjust' them, so that their loyalty to White Gold is weakened. He thinks you will be too occupied with Cheydinhal and the Nibenay to act against him in this." "Balgruuf was a loyal supporter of the Empire even when they enforced the White Gold Concordat. That he would play the separatist now when that treaty have been nullified, I doubt highly. Chorrol can't limit themselves from the throne without giving up the fief of Blackwood and there will of course be trouble with Lilly if they do. He's either ignorant or got some other plan. And I'll talk to Tullius about this, I'm sure he'll come around. They usually do." "And Jon? I am not usually one to suggest violent means, but open treason cannot be tolerated. It will only encourage others with similar ambitions. I had him followed, to see that he returned to his camp. As brazen as he is, I doubt he will try to flee just yet." "Seems like I got someone to make an example of. All I need is an excuse." He was silent for a second. "Pity, I knew he was either with me or against me. I had hoped it would the first, but I also heavily suspected the latter. " "What more excuse do you need? He openly admits that he is not legion any longer and hasn't been since he defied Amaund. He spoke of the Syffim. That was the genesis of our fighter's guild, but the Akaviri started it as a way to maintain an army that would be loyal to them and not to the emperor. You cannot allow a large mercenary army to go parading around as legionnaires while they seek to take counties out of your control." "He still paints himself as auxiliary army, not a mercenary one. Unless he changed that this last hour. And I'm pretty sure I'll get that excuse from Tullius." "An auxiliary army who will not swear loyalty to its leader? I asked him to come to White Gold to swear an oath of fealty and he laughed at the suggestion. Everything he says puts to the lie the idea that he left the legion out of some principled stand against Amaund. He is making a move for his own power, whether he'll acknowledge that to himself or not." "You're right about that. I'll talk to Tullius, then I'll force the matter. Assimilate or disarm his army." "Tullius' role is most puzzling to me. He apparently lost faith in Dales at some point. I can't help but wonder if it was over the Lorgar affair. You mentioned Blackwood. Chorrol cannot honestly still be claiming that poor misused fiefdom? If so, Lorgar's mousy little wife has a lot of nerve." "I do not really understand that family, Lilly and Milly seems to be in some kind of feud. But I'm pretty sure Lilly has got more pull than Milly after what Lorgar is now accused of." "Then let them sort out their family problems without fanciful claims to land or title in the Nibenay. Restless Nords are not your only problem. The Nibenese already have long accused Colovians and Nords of conspiring to rob them of land and rights. You should talk to the Elder Council about these matters, or at least with the chancellor. It is important to try to win their support." Maggie hesitated, then asked, "Did you speak to Dales about the matter of a marriage?" "Yes. She seemed to be rather accepting of. Much more than I had expected. She even wanted to do the marriage preparations. I let her, but I get a bad feeling about it. I'm going to check in on her plans regarding the wedding just to make sure it's just a feeling. And I've spoken a little with the council, just to try to stem the little feud between them and Dales. I prefer to outsmart the council, not simply openly oppose them. And I've been thinking about replacing Blackwood with another fief for the Quentas, but I can't figure out which." "They have Chorrol, what else do they need? Dales gave it to Lorgar on sentimental basis, and he robbed the treasury without so much as setting foot on the territory. The Nibeneans do not welcome corrupt absentee landlords anymore than anyone else. Return it to Nibenean control and help them put down these riots, which are causing our people severe suffering. I expect that it is the Thalmor behind them, and we would do well to get ahead of that. As for the marriage, it should be put to the Elder Council, too, before you make it public." She paused once more, regarding him carefully. "And I am thinking of removing myself from the palace once you do that. Your marriage to Dales is a sham, but must not seem to the public to be so." "The Quentas wont like it. But I'll figure how to take it away without angering them too much. And I know I need to be presented to the council, I'm just working out how to properly present myself." He sighed and looked at her. "No sneaking in after dark?" "I could do that, if you wished, but we would have to be discreet. And you should see that Dales is with child as soon as possible. She does not inspire confidence as a leader, that much is plain, but she will inspire some love and sympathy if she makes people believe the empire has a future. It is also a better use of her time and attention than bedding priestesses." He looked down. "I don't want... children." He said, sound and looking a bit sad as he did. Maggie suddenly recalled what he had revealed to her some time ago, the source of his nightmares. Laying a hand on his arm, she said, "I'm sorry. We are both immortals of a sort, and I am trained to regard such things as mere calculations, yet I know it is more involved than that. However this is why we rule and others do not. We can set aside the passing demands of emotion to do what must be done. Have you some other idea of how an heir could be produced? If you involve another man, it would entail great risk." "I will not involve another man. And I don't know how to resolve the problem with an heir. That is another thing I'm trying to figure out. That's partly why I'm here; to think." "I understand. It must be comforting to know you can retreat here if, at the last, all goes awry. I expect my family will do the same, retreat to our keep in the Jeralls, if..." She trailed off, uncertain about giving her family any kind of future at all, even if Cyrodiil survived. "And Cheydinhal? Is there any news from the troublesome count?" "He's been barking a bit more about how he is a better ruler and should lead the Empire. I think he'll shut up when I steps up. At least for a while till he can come up with some new excuse that he's a better ruler. Right now his main statement is that Dales is a weak whore." "When men have nothing more imaginative to say, they call a woman a whore. In that case, he will sympathize with Jon's quest. I fear a lot of this is dissent that was building under Amaund and only now has come to the fore. Though we cannot deny that there have been consequences for our people from the rooting out of the Thalmor and their supporters. Whatever else we can say for the Concordat, it allowed a measure of stability and trade that is now gone again." "But at what cost?" "It was only a matter of time before hostilities renewed." Maggie stood to her feet and brushed her dress smooth. "I will leave you to your thoughts then. Or will you return?" "Library is on the left of the throne and then straight ahead. Unless you placed a recall rune before you..." Suddenly a loud dragon's roar was heard and Skjari leaned outside and looked up the mountain to the left. A large black dragon came flying over it and out across the icy wasted before it turned around and went straight for the cave. "Oh great, he's back." He said callously. Maggie, who did not scare easily, jumped back at the appearance of the dragon and a spell flared instinctively in her hand. At Skjari's casual reaction, she laughed nervously and doused the spell. "A friend of yours?" Skjari lied back flatly onto the ground. "A new resident. He thinks I owe him for 'abandoning' them those thousands of years ago. So he made this cave his hideout. And I suggest you take a lot of steps back before he lands." She didn't need to be told twice. Her training didn't extend to fighting dragons. When the dragon got closer it slowed down and landed with both feet grasping at the edge of the cave, with Skjari lying in the middle. It folded it's wings down to the ground for support and looked at Maggie with almost angry eyes as it took a few steps towards her. "Vullokien!" Skjari yelled from behind the dragon. And he soon thereafter came walking around the dragon to the head, that was still looking intensely at Maggie. They exchanged a few words in draconic before the dragon gave off a puff of hot smoke from his nostrils at Maggie and then walked over the side of the cave where he lied down and closed his eyes, with the tail wrapped around him. Though she had stood her ground, Maggie thought perhaps all the troubles of Cyrodiil were done for her. She suddenly had a much greater appreciation for the simple Nords who had faced such creatures in number while fighting the empire at the same time. Wordlessly she looked at Skjari to see what he would say about this. Skjari sighed a little as he looked at the resting dragon and then turned to Maggie. "Sorry about that. He's become a bit paranoid ever since some of his brothers were slain." "I'm flattered to be taken for a dragon hunter." She gave a small laugh. "I think I should leave the lair to him, however. You were explaining the way back?" "I was giving directions to the library. And I was about to say that if you didn't place a recall rune before you used the scroll, I'm your only means for a quick trip back to Cyrodiil." "A small detail I overlooked. Well, if you would be so kind, then." "Don't want to kill some time in the library?" She hesitated. Though matters at home were more pressing, there were things she had glimpsed among Skjari's books that had a longer term relevance. "Alright then," she agreed. "You should rest. I'll join you later." "This way then." He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to backside of the cave where a large dark door was, which had been more grey back in Skjari's days. The door held his crowned symbol and it opened as they approached. Inside was a hallway, lit up by blue flames floating along the walls. After a bit of walking they came to huge room with a dome roof, just like one in those ruins those hundred of years ago where they had first met. But this room was much larger and as was the crystal in the roof that was almost immense, with blue flame-like swirls just below the surface. In the far end of the room was a great throne with a life-size statue of a dragon standing at the back of the royal seat with wings stretched out to the sides and a roaring maw towards a spot in front of the throne, where one would expect the subjects that would seek audience with the king would stand. Skjari gestured to the statue with his free hand. "Say hello to Alduin." Maggie stood rooted a while, staring up. "Drem yol lok, Devourer of Worlds." Her eyes moved to Skjari. "Dangerous allies." "But useful. The Dragon Temple was already quite dominant before I helped them. And I couldn't really say no to dragon allies. And the dragon priests also had the most powerful magic in Skyrim at the time, they were like the arch-mages of the land. So of course I had to ally myself with them if I wanted to be a really powerful mage." He started to walk with her towards the hallway on their left. "An understandable compromise." She had made the same one, after all. They continued down the hallway till they came to a four way crossing. "Straight ahead is the library. I'll go take a nap in the meantime," he said and then walked down the left hallway, leaving Maggie behind. She wandered in the library a while until she found the volume she had read before, found some paper, and began tracing. It was late in the night before she went to find the bedroom. *** The following day, Maggie spent most of the day making the rounds of Elder Council members and brothel contacts who saw legion clients, and returned home in the evening to write. She heard the door guards talking to someone, but didn't respond until one of them called up to her. "Who is it?" she called back, peeved. They knew she wasn't to be disturbed while writing. "He says he's working for your father." Sighing, Maggie came downstairs and approached the man in the foyer. "Yes, what is it?" The man, an imperial, himself was medium in height and medium in build. He wore a black longcoat, similar to the style found in hammerfall and similar to the coats she had seen Lorgar wear during his time at the imperial city. Along with the coat, he had dark leather gloves and boats. All of his appeal seemed to be of high quality, and along with the way he bore himself, he seemed to be of noblebirth. His face wasn't handsome or ugly, it was normal. He had simple dark brown hair, and a no facial hair to speak. His skin was as pale as new snow, and his eyes were a sickly grey. On his shoulder, he bore a very strange badge, depicting a red wolf howling. The imperial bowed his head, before saying in a cold voice, "You are Countess Magdela Bathory?" "If you came from my father, you know that," she answered impatiently, giving him a cursory inspection. "You have a message for me?" He raised his gloved hand lazily, "Not quite milady. I'm under your fathers employment, i'm investigating something on his behalf. I request you answer my questions." Maggie regarded him suspiciously a moment, then gestured with her head for the guards to leave them. When they returned to the front door, she cast a muffle and said, "Ask your questions, then." He wasted no time, "You were there when someone attempted to kill a man that you know as Samuel, correct?" There was a pause. "Who are you?" He smiled, revealing razor sharp fangs, "If you wish, milady, you can simply refer to me as "Wraith", or Marcus." "I mean who are you. What is your relation to my father?" "I do work for him occasionally." "That's very vague." Maggie crossed her arms, obviously not willing to trust this stranger. "At any rate, I don't know what you're talking about. If my father wants information from me, he can ask himself." "He's very busy milady if I recall correctly. Doesn't have time to visit one of his..daughters." The man said coolly. "Aren't we all. Good evening then." Maggie called for the door guards to see the gentleman out. He nodded at Maggie, before heading towards the doorway, as he left the building he muttered with a smile. "Yes, good evening to you as well. Sends my regards to your handler, whore." With a roll of her eyes, Maggie returned upstairs to return to work. The man hurried through the dark streets, he doubted that girl knew anything of use. He would need to ask the daemon directly.

Jon Hard-Heart Imperial City Camp Late morning “You’re Jon Hard-Heart?†Jon stood near the main road with a few of his soldiers, just out of sight from the city gates. After yesterday’s mistakes, it would be better for him to stay out of the city for a while, until he knew what Miss Bathory had chosen to do. Not that he had much reason to enter the city when he didn’t need to, to begin with, but after that little scene, he couldn’t be sure if there were people looking for an opportunity to apprehend him. A man, Nibenese from the looks of it, were being escorted by one of his own men. The stranger wore the Legion steel armor, and had a large bag over his shoulder. Recently arrived, it looked like. Tan too. From Hammerfell, maybe? “Yes, I am. You’re with the Company?†“I am. Senius Avitan, head of security of one of the outposts we keep in Hammerfell, up north. I deal with both Redguards and Bretons, so you can imagine the need for extra security. Lots of corsairs and pirates in the area,†the man came up to him and shook his hand, giving a polite smile. There was a certain hint of annoyance in his tone. “Why did you have your man bring me out here? I thought I said I wanted to meet in the city.†“I’m sorry about that, but my time is precious,†Jon smiled back and gestured for him to follow them back towards the camp. “And I’m not that interested in giving you a speech about how great my men are and all of that. I’m guessing you’ve heard every speech about mercenaries by their commander there is.†“Damn right I have. Most of them complete jokels, never living up to what’s promised. What’s with the armor? It looks… vaguely familiar.†“This thing?†Jon raised an eyebrow, still holding the smile and a light tone. “Old Legion style, from the of my great grandfather. My father said it’s called Templar armor, supposedly used by the knight-commanders in the Morrowind Legions.†They neared the camp, letting the visitor start to make out a picture of what the people he was about to meet really were. Glancing at Jon’s armor, then squinting his eyes to see the camp better, his eyebrows lifted for a moment. “My contact didn’t tell me I was hiring ex-Legionnaires. My, my, that is… interesting…†“Very interesting. Deserters, technically, but no one these days would dare to hold us as such. Our group left the Legions when Amaund Motierre took power. Not the most damning thing to do, according to the current rulers. Sort of become a small mercenary group recently. Okay, a pretty decently sized mercenary group. With Legion training. Hoping to make some money.†Senius nodded, but didn’t say much more. Instead, he started to walk a little faster towards the camp, mumbling something to himself that Jon couldn’t hear. Entering the camp, he gave the man a few moments to look around. “Well, what do you think?†Jon said. Senius had remained quiet, with a skeptical grin. “Is my group up to standards?†“I’d say so, they’re Legion after all,†rubbing his forehead, he let out a sigh. “But lots of… your people here. That is… a bit problematic. Had hoped for more Imperials.†“Wel-“ Jon was about to ask if he was going to turn down good sellswords of that reason, but was interrupted. “Had Skyrim been a part of the Empire still, I would have gladly paid whatever you wanted- within reason, naturally- but now? While the Company tries to stay out of politics, having a sudden surge of Nords in our forces might be… complicated. Some would question their loyalty.†“We have some 80 or 90 people of Imperial descend around here that you can count as yours. And we have maybe 50 Orcs and Bretons. Most of the remaining are Nords, of course, but if we thin them out a little, it should look normal enough.†“Yeah, good point… good point…†Jon swallowed. Damned Imperial racism, mixing it up in politics wherever they went. For Shor’s sake, these men were about to join him in High Rock and Hammerfell, not in the Imperial City. “Damned hard to get the Legion to protect the Company these days too,†Senius continued, stroking his chin. “Most good mercenaries around here being either too busy, taking advantage of the Legion being busy and stepping in as guards and whatnot, or turning to banditry. Getting some properly trained and equipped men… How much? I suppose it won’t be cheap…†“No, I suppose it won’t be. I need to get some funding in, before I run out of what money we do have. But I’ll get you the lowest price I can afford to take.†“Wait, why?†the Imperial leaned his head slightly to the right. “Why would you settle for that? We both know I’m not left with much choice, if I want good men protecting us. What are you playing at?†“A good relationship with the Company, of course. Isn’t that obvious?†the Nord gave him a short laugh. “I give you good soldiers to use for protection, for the lowest price I can give, and in return I get your good graces and a small discount in trade with the Company. I make money, your trade is safer which makes you more money and I can maintain my group without relying on what little money we have left. Another week or so and we’d go hungry. Not to mention that the maintenance of armor and weapons would collapse.†“Yes… that makes sense.†Jon gestured for them to go to his own tent, where he had had a couple of chairs and a table put up outside for this meeting. Taking a seat, one of the Legionnaires came up to them with a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses. “Sorry that this is the best we got, but, as I said, we’re poor at the moment.†“Not been doing mercenary work for long then?†“Not long enough, that’s for sure.†“How did you manage to hold the group together? I mean, this is a lot of people. Are you some sort of natural talent, or what?†“Not any more than any general, I suppose,†Jon smiled. His chest rose a little. “Simple really, since we had a common idea of what to do. We split up in smaller groups and spread out across a portion of the Jeralls, to avoid the game thinning out too much. There were some… hard weeks, coming and going… but we managed. Had to go down into one of the old crypts we came across, to salvage something to sell. Didn’t get much, but we found an old set of armor. Chit- chit… Chiting? Is that it? The armor the Dunmer like so much. Strong and light. Managed to get some supplies for it. Heard some of the other groups had an easier time. I guess we were lucky.†“Hmm, yeah, I suppose so. Being barbarians from the north probably didn’t hurt either,†Senius rolled his eyes, then he laughed. “I’m joking, of course. Alright, fine. How much for, I dunno, 200 men? Might as well get some more on every ship tied to my warehouse while we’re at it. Not like a chance like this is gonna come up again. ‘If you see something you like or need, buy it then and there at the best price you can get’ a wise trader once wrote.†He took a quick look inside his bag. “Ah, found it. The Buying Game, by Adabael Timsar-Dadisun. Here, you can have that copy, I have more. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the read.†“Oh- Thank you, that… is very generous of you.†Jon accepted the book. He had heard it was a good read, but never come across it. Written by an Ashlander a long time ago, he was told. “Well, I’m not sure, that is a lot of soldiers.†Senius took a piece of parchment out of his bag, as well as a quill and a small, sealed inkpot. After taking a moment to write something out on it, he handed it to Jon along with the quill. “I assume that is an agreeable sum?†“Yes!†halfway through the reply, Jon tried to calm himself down. His heart had done a little jump. That was a bit more than he had expected, the sum he was offered. Should cover their needs, with a little to spare afterwards. Not a whole lot, nowhere near enough to buy political support, but useful. “Yes, that will do nicely. You can pick out whatever troops you want, to serve under Legate Canus.†** Samuel Imperial City Night Roaming the streets, Samuel stuck to the shadows, avoiding the view of the people trying their best to make it. There had been an increase in people on the street lately. People who couldn’t afford to pay for a room at an inn or a place with a landlord, staying a night or three before ultimately deciding to leave the city on hopes for… something. What would they find? Bandits, most likely. Or a passage to one of the counties or neighboring nations, and more hardship. If he had to choose, he’d go to Skyrim or Hammerfell. Or Morrowind, if you wanted to deal with the Dunmer. “Help!†he heard a scream from an alleyway, shortly after muffled. A… young boy, was it? He wasn’t sure. Rolling his eyes, Samuel set the course in the direction the sound had been heard. No one else had done anything. Left, right, right and then right again, through the backstreets of the city. Before long the sounds of someone struggling could be faintly heard. Rounding the last corner, he saw a boy, somewhere in his mid-teens, being held to the ground. A couple of older men were standing over him, chuckling. “Have you learned not to steal yet, huh?†one of the men grabbed the boy by the hair and lifted his head up. There was no movement from the boy. He just stared at the ground just in front of Samuel’s feet with empty eyes. “I don’t think he can hear you!†the other man laughed, spitting on their victim. “What th-“ He almost screamed in shock. His partner had thrown up blood as far as he could see, but his own scream was silenced by a fist that was aimed at his throat. The last thing he saw before blacking out was a fist aimed at his nose. “Idiots,†Samuel mumbled to himself, dragging the young one away from the two others. His dagger was still in the throat of one of them. He had recognized the boy. He didn’t know his first name, but he was a Bantien. One of the many informants he had around the city. Someone had missed the memo about who they were and weren’t allowed to target. And now the young man was dead, along with one of his killers. The other one waiting on his fate. “Get up!†he sneered at the man still alive, kicking him in the stomach to get him to wake up. Grasping for breath the man curled up, but Samuel would have none of that. Grabbing him by the hair, he forced him to his feet, taking a firm grasp of his throat. “You think you can just kill people under my protection, huh!? You think I wouldn’t find out!?†he pressed the man against the wall, hard. Before long the man would get trouble breathing. With a quick movement, Samuel forced the man’s face down in the pool of blood form his friend, met with faint sobbing. “Now here is what is going to happen: You’re going to use your friend’s blood as ink and you’re going to write a message for me on this wall. And the message is: ‘My friends are off-limits!’. Is that clear?†“Y-“ “Is that clear!?†“Ye-“ “Is that clear!?†he pushed the man’s nose into the wound itself, pressing it against the dagger that was still there. “Yes!†“Good. Now, get to it.†**

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