TheCzarsHussar

Alrighty, I'm on page seven in that case.

Lorgar Grim-Maw Falkreath-Bruma Border Night Lorgar Grim-Maw lay at the pool of water, gazing into the still water. The light of the moon on his back, showering him in it's pale radiance. His sat crosslegged, and on his lap was a ebony dagger, it's void-like blade blending in with the dark of the night. He had a choice to make. The daemon or the wolf. I dove into the fire knowing full well what I would become, knowing what a monster I would eventually turn into. I gave up my humanity willingly...deep down. The all-maker calls, but will I follow the path before me, or turn back to Hircine? Without hesitation, he got up from his and position into a crouch, and dunked his entire head into the water bellow. He began to rub and scratch his hair, later violently. He continued for a good two minutes, holding his breath with ease. Soon the water was filled with spots of brown, and as it did, Lorgar took his head out of the water. Though very damp, you could tell his hair went from dark-brown, to snow-white. Furthermore, his single visible eye, which was formerly a sickly brown, had returned to it's original pale blue color. He grabbed the blade from the ground, and cut off a good length of his hair, before returning the blade to the sheaf. Formerly savage and unkempt. his hair was much more tidy, and it's length was moderate. The nord stood up fully, he turned his head south towards the forests of Falrkreath, were everything started. The place where he turned away fully from his god, and accepted everything wrong about him. With his features illuminated by the moon, Lorgar ripped off the eye patch covering his right eye, revealing the luminous bloodied orb. It's piercing crimson light shone like the moon above him. A tired, non-happy, and slight smile formed on his lips, revealing his wolf-like teeth, I fully commit myself to the path I have chosen the wolf. I will do what I feel is justified and the world will call it as they see it. It matters little to me if they see me as a monster or an abomination, if the empire curse my name, or the Stormcloaks call me a freak or animal, I will remain loyal to my ideals. He let the eye-patch go in the wind. The man turned around, and headed towards the mountains in the distant. Lorgar Sky-Wind walked onward.

Veleda Fire-Hand College of Winterhold afternoon “Courier came to the bridge. Being queen means lots of mail, apparently.†Menel tossed a thick bundle of letters onto Veleda’s desk. He then threw his staff into a corner, plopped down into a chair, and put his feet up on her nightstand. Veleda sighed and stared at the stack a moment before taking out her dagger to cut the tie. There was a letter from Jorleif, the steward of Windhelm, asking about her wishes for her quarters in the palace and preferences on feast arrangements, and one from Wuunferth, ordering various alchemical ingredients and books from the College. Veleda opened the letter from General Red-Snow and scanned it. “An offer to have a wedding dress sewn for me,†she muttered. “I haven’t worn a dress since my mother used to drag me to balls in the Imperial City.†“If they make it a low-cut dress, I might even come to this barbaric Nord festival.†“Very funny.†“Me, joke about such things? Cleavage is deadly serious business. Especially yours, now." “Don’t you have some trainees to corrupt?†“The security of the nation is at stake. Maybe I ought to inspect the wares on the king’s behalf.†Veleda went on to the next letter. Menel would amuse himself for a while longer before he got tired of it, and showing her annoyance would only prolong the teasing. The Bosmer mostly preferred the company of other men, and though they had long been friends it had never been an intimate friendship. The ribald jokes were the elf's way of showing affection. He was as short as most of his race and dark haired, but wider than most Bosmer, owing to his fondness for smoked hams and sausages. A connoisseur of smoked meats, he had declared Skyrim’s the finest. Like Veleda he grew up in the Imperial City, however he affected a wilderness look, wearing furs and an amulet made of the finger bones of some powerful ancestor. His staff looked like a bit of crooked driftwood. Menel had taken it off a Fryse hag in the northern wilds and was very proud of it. He was also proud of his scars from the war and from their trip to battle ice wraiths, and would take any opportunity to show off his missing toe and fingers and brag about hacking them off himself with a rusty dagger. The last part was exaggeration; Veleda had cut off his frostbitten toe and fingers using a very sharp and fire-enchanted dagger, while Menel moaned that he should have stayed in civilization like any sensible elf. In truth it had taken some convincing for him to accompany her to Skyrim. He loathed the Thalmor and had been an active Night Watchman almost since its first days, but fighting for the Stormcloaks was not as attractive. He did it for the adventure, he usually told others, though in his more candid moments Menel would admit to Veleda that he sympathized with the Nords’ desire for independence. He only hated the Thalmor, not the idea of an Aldmeri Dominion, and hoped that once the Thalmor were defeated, Valenwood would not once again be under the thumb of its northern neighbor. “You’re coming to the wedding anyway, aren’t you?†Veleda asked, serious now. “I suppose. You wanted me to look into using Morvunskar as a training base anyway.†“Yes, thank you for reminding me. I can’t believe the Stormcloaks haven't garrisoned it yet. The coven who has apparently claimed it can harass anyone traveling to the capital from that perch." “You still intend to keep our foothold here, too, no?†“I think we should. The resources of the College are too valuable, and now that we’ve convinced the Archmage that we’re not out to steal his recruits or introduce politics into the College, we shouldn’t lose the progress we’ve made. Morvunskar would be a secondary base, for field training and the like.†“And would give you some place to sneak off to if palace life gets unbearable.†Veleda smiled over at him. “As well as give you an excuse to visit Windhelm. Yes. You got me.†Menel stood, sighing. “Sounds like a lot of work and bother to me.†“You’ll survive.†“Only if they’ve got good butchers in Windhelm.†“Don’t worry, your smoker will be as busy there as here.†After Menel left and she’d finished reading the other letters, Veleda sat staring at Red-Snow’s a while. The queenship would draw her into a female world again, which she had long not visited and where she felt a stranger. Her mother had always told her that she would never find a man if she didn’t act more lady-like. It had not been her hair or clothes or fine manners that had drawn her notice, however. With all of the problems Skyrim faced, this was the least important. But still, she would need a dress. Veleda picked up a quill and began penning replies.

REBBA Continued: *** There was a fevered few days of activity, and finally Skyrim's flagship was ready, lowered by ropes from the dry dock into the bay of Solitude. Mazoga had already rousted the crew from whatever odd jobs they were doing, and on the day of the maiden voyage, they all boarded and wandered around the new ship, admiring the handiwork and staking out their territories. They were mostly Nords, with a few orcs, Dunmer and a Khajiit. Among them was the former imperial captive, Hjarn Broadhands. They all had commissions as auxiliaries in the navy. The Black Wisp was an impressive sight, though there was chatter on the wharf that it looked more like a pirate ship than a navy war ship. That suited Rebec just fine. She had made her name on being faster and more fearsome than the pirates, and ships should rightly fear the sight of her on the horizon. Or maybe they would never see her at all until it was too late. The hull had been painted a glossy black, including the "wisp" herself, a carved wooden figure of a wispmother on the prow. It was decoration Rebec could have done without, but this lady was as deadly as her namesake, since she could be lowered on a hinge and fixed with a ramming prow. The trim was in Stormcloak blue, bright red and gold. A single large square sail was affixed to Runil's mast, though it wasn't furled yet, since that would happen out on the open water. Other than the Wisp, there were two smaller escort ships that would accompany the king's delegation to Windhelm. These sat ready to follow the flagship out to the Sea of Ghosts. Rebec came on board to inspect, then went down on the quay and paced nervously, waiting for Baldur to show up with the king and his delegation. She had put on her war paint and wore her chainmail and sea cloak. "U-Ulfric, surely there's someone else who can stay behind for this job!" "I'm sorry, Galmar, but someone's got to make sure the milkdrinkers don't muck up the city while the transition of power commences. That person is you." said Ulfric, hiding his enjoyment at Galmar's expense. Baldur was in on it too, and stayed quiet, looking to the right so Galmar couldn't see him laughing. Ysana was observing this with great curiosity, not sure what was going on. She wasn't used to this at all. They were accompanied with ten of Baldur's men who Ysana now learned worked as Ulfric's personal guard as well, and now she was just learning that her son didn't just know the King, but was friends with him and the famous Galmar Stone-Fist. "Um, son? Am I missing something?" she asked. "Shh, just listen." he said. "Why can't Baldur stay and do it?" asked Galmar. "Ha, you try telling Rebec that. And anyway, they have business in Hammerfell after the feast." "Wait...you mean..." "That's right." said Ulfric. "I'll need you to stay behind for a while. You may miss the feast." Galmar was stunned to silence and started looking around the city, his fancy milk drinking prison. Oh how the old Nord yearned to see the snow veiled city of Windhelm once more. There was nothing he wanted more. He had been stuck in Solitude ever since they took Skyrim, and it was absolutely killing his spirits. Not that anyone could tell the difference. Ysana felt bad for the old Nord and the Dibellan in her wanted to give him a hug, but Baldur gave her the eye and whispered for her to play along. When they finally walked out of the city to the docks, Ulfric and his followers were all gawking at the sight of the intimidating ship. "Holy...now that's a ship a Necro Nord can be proud of!" said Baldur. Galmar was amazed too at the beauty of the thing, and its good old Nord craftsmanship, but he said nothing, still quiet. Ulfric grabbed the both of them around their heads as he proclaimed, "Our ancestors smile on us this day! Never have we had such a ship of great magnificence since the days of old." Ysana hadn't even seen a ship before, let alone one like Rebec's Black Wisp. Ysana grabbed Baldur's head and took him from Ulfric's grasp, hugging him while she hopped excitedly. "Oh, I can't wait! I've got goosebumps, son! This is so exciting! Thank you for letting me come." "No problem, ma. I'm glad you're happy." "Awww, isn't that sweet, hehehehe." said Galmar. Ysana broke off from Baldur and pinched at Galmar's cheek. "You're just being a grump because you have to stay." Ulfric let out a long hearty laugh that was cut short when Ysana pinched his ear. "And you, quit being such a bully to your friend!" Baldur's eyes widened and he quickly pulled Ysana away. The men nearby had eyed her too, not taking kindly to anyone grabbing at the King. "Hahaha, take it easy Baldur. Calm down men, calm down. She reminds me of my mother. Anyway, Galmar, I was just kidding. Firebeard and the commanders stationed in Solitude can handle things with Elisif while I'm gone. You can come." said Ulfric. "Yes!" was all Galmar said, and he let out a smile neither Baldur nor anyone had ever seen him have since they took Solitude from the Empire with the Dragonborn. "Mom, next time...don't do that. Pinching Galmar's cheek was bad enough." said Baldur after sighing in relief. "Oh hush. I'm not afraid of anyone. Especially with my big hero son around." she said, grabbing his arm as they approached the front of the ship. Baldur thought he heard some of his men laughing behind him, until he shot them a look. When he did, he saw that Ysana had too, and he wasn't sure who they were backing down from more. Either way, the snickering ceased. "Hey, Rebec!" said Baldur as they walked their way on board. She had been tongue tied all while the king and his group were admiring her ship and getting ready to board. This was a big moment. Her heart and soul had gone into the construction, and literally the blood of her ancestors. The last time she had boarded a ship as captain, Skyrim was under invasion and Baldur was just the man she'd bedded and left behind. All the memories of the past year collided in her mind with plans for the next, and the determination not to screw up the maiden voyage with the king on board. She smiled as Baldur greeted her, and half-hugged Ysana, then turned to Ulfric and gave him the speech she'd written out and practiced. Such things didn't come naturally to her. "Your Majesty, I present you with the Black Wisp, your new flagship. It's an honor to have you aboard. After you." That was the end of speechifying. When Ulfric and Galmar had made it up the gangplank, she looked at Baldur, her nervousness and anticipation apparent. "Ready for some sailing?" He picked up on the butterflies she must have been feeling and put his left arm around her, kissing her while he did so. Then he put his right arm around Ysana and kissed her on the forehead. "Damn right, Admiral Rebec. Some real sailing now. Lets see what old girl can do. Ooh, the wisp lady in the front's looking nice, hehe. Nice touch." "Got to have some style along with the function." Rebec took a deep breath and stepped onto the gangplank. As she did so, her crew started cheering, and her nervous expression turned into a wide smile. "Get down belowdecks and man those oars, you lazy snowbacks!" "Ah, just like old times, Captain." The Khajiit, Sidano, gave her a toothy grin before following the others down below. Mazoga came up and handed her the keys to the captain's quarters. "Congratulations, Cap. She's a beauty." "She's yours, Maz, as much as anyone's," Rebec replied. Turning to Baldur and Ysana, she said, "You two make yourselves comfortable. Let's see if this tub will hold water." At a signal from below that the oarsmen were ready, Rebec took her place at the steering and Mazoga gestured for the wharf crew to loose the mooring ropes. The admiral then took a sea horn and let out a long blast, afterwards shouting, "Forward easy!" Mazoga echoed this call, and the row captain below echoed it again, and the Black Wisp moved away from the pier and began to inch forward on the shallow paddles of the oarsmen. As they got out into the bay and turned towards the open sea, Rebec had a big grin on her face. She'd been worried about the ship being slightly bigger than her old one, but the new steering answered just as she hoped it would, and the ship skimmed easily along, outpacing her escorts. "Wow, heh. This is exciting isn't it ma?" Ysana was too busy watching all the activity on the ship and looking in the distance at Solitude as they left it behind. Neither of them were quite used to the movement of the ship, so they were holding onto the rail as they were drifting through the water. Ysana was smiling now, which is what he wanted to see more than anything and he decided to keep quiet for a minute and enjoy the moment. Before too long, Baldur felt a hand on his back, which belonged to Galmar. "Hey, you never introduced me to your mother here, Baldur." Baldur was a bit confused until he started to pick up on how he had said introduced. "Heh, sure. Ma, this is Galmar who I'm sure you've heard of. Galmar, this is my ma Ysana." "A pleasure, Ysana." Galmar said, bowing his head. Baldur groaned as he did and rolled his eyes. "Same to you, General. I've heard a lot about you. Tell me, what is it that my son has done in the military to get in such good terms with you and the King of Skyrim?" "You mean he hasn't told you?" Galmar looked to Baldur who was giving him the eye. He got its meaning, which was to cut out the uncomfortable stuff. Galmar summed up most of the events, making sure to keep out the talk of his capture and his brutality when he came across it. Ysana was stunned to silence for a while, not hearing the details from anyone before. Her face went pale at the mention of Helgen. "Dragon?" she said. "Yep....dragon. That's why I'm the 'Unkindled'." said Baldur, somewhat of the same complexion. "And I told you how we found Rebec in Falkreath. Got her a position here, and she basically saved Skyrim with her ship work. She made short work with the blockades. That's why she was made Admiral. "You and Rebec are...something else, son. I'm proud of you both." "As are we. And all of Skyrim." said Galmar. "And now Rebec has a ship worthy of her talents. This is a marvel of Nord craftsmanship." Rebec was busy with steering the ship, not wanting to miss anything, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Galmar talking to Baldur and Ysana. Maybe Pa will have competition. That made her smirk inwardly, but she kept her concentration. Under her feet she tried to feel the ship, and feel the water beneath, along with each pull of the rowers. It had been so long and the unfamiliarity of the ship made her more aware of these normally second-nature considerations. As the ship made it out of the bay and into the Sea of Ghosts, Rebec shouted, "Hold water!" The rowing stopped and there was a clatter as the oars were pulled in. She waited until the escort ships appeared at the mouth of the bay, then called, "Hoist sail!" There was an icy wind blowing out of the west. They would have the wind at their backs for a little while, anyway. Crewmen tugged on the ropes, and the large square sail rose and unfurled, caught the wind, and began to propel the ship forward again. The sail was of sturdy tan cloth. On one side, painted in bright blue, was the figure of Kyne with hawk wings spread. On the other side, in red, was a stylized, geometric snowflake in red, with crossed axes superimposed in black. Rebec gave the steering to Mazoga and walked over to where Baldur and the others stood. "What do you think? The axes are for you and me, Baldur," she told him, gesturing up at the sail. "And maybe I ought to have put a Stormcloak bear on there somewhere, but Lady Kyne is the real wispmother, and she ought to have her due." "Forget the bear, that is completely amazing! Red-Snow, hahaha! The axes are a great touch. Our new family crest! And Kyne is right where she should be, wind beneath her wings! This ship is perfect!" Baldur had his hand over his face to protect from the sun as he gazed at the sail. It truly was perfect for them, especially Rebec. She grinned, relieved that it had met her husband's approval, at least. Crew members were wandering up from belowdecks and admiring the sail, as well, though some of them made comments about how the captain was getting too fancy for her leathers. These weren't serious criticisms, however. They had all been hand-picked and well paid, and though some had left rather than follow her into war, the ones who stayed took pride in it. Hjarn Broadhands had never been so well paid, though he was the new boy and a former legion seaman, so as yet he was still an outsider on this close-knit crew. That didn't bother him at all. It felt good to be on the water, to be able to do what he loved, and he had been able to send money home to his wife in Anvil with the promise she'd be able to join him in Skyrim soon. He busied himself tying down the sail rigging, a little smile on his face. There were wisps of early-morning fog clinging to the coast and further on there would be ice floes, but now that they had cleared Haafingar Bay they had clear sailing. When she thought no one would miss her for a few minutes, Rebec grabbed Baldur's hand and led him belowdecks. "Let's see that cabin," she said, smiling mischievously. It wasn't really the time for hijinks, but they could at least see where they'd be bunked on the way to Hammerfell. "Wow, you weren't kidding when you said it would be close in here." he said as he closed the door. Baldur hadn't been as bad off with the motion of the ship as he imagined. He was somewhat better off after being on Vilnur's ship, but this was different. Faster for one. Baldur leaped on the bed and rolled to his back as he closed his eyes. The motion of the ship below him was soothing. "Ah, this is nice. Your brother's going to be very jealous." Rebec smiled and leaned across him to open the porthole windows. The bed could be folded up for more space, but with it down, the little cabin was cramped. There was a sideboard table, a storage trunk, and a small desk with the captain's log and charts. It was nothing fancy, not like the imperial ships they'd captured, but she had worked hard to make it all functional, using rich hardwoods and brass fixings. The bed was soft featherdown with wool and fur coverings. "This ship's made for work, not pleasure cruises, but that's a lot better sleeping than a bunk or pallet." She sat down at the end of the bed and leaned across his knees. "Welcome to the Wisp, First Mate Red-Snow." Baldur smiled and spread his arms signaling for her to embrace him. "First mate huh? I'd think Mazoga would have something to say about that, except she's probably too excited that this ship will one day be hers." Rebec held him tightly, thanking Kyne or whoever was watching out for her that she had lived to have a new ship and a man like him to share it with. "Mazoga's the ship's first mate, but you're mine," she answered in a muffled voice. They sat like that a little while, content, then she kissed him and reluctantly stood. "Alright, I need to keep an eye on things up top. I'm planning to sail through the night so that we can make it to Windhelm by tomorrow afternoon, if the winds stay this hearty." "Alright, High Admiral Red-Snow. What are my duties?" he said, already missing her embrace. "Observe and learn," she answered, pulling on his hand. "And do whatever Maz tells you to do. I mostly sit on my ass and watch for ice. You've never seen Skyrim like this, have you? We'll hug the coast pretty much, except where there are shoals, so ought to be some nice scenery going by. Never seen a sunset til you've seen it from the sea. If you get bored, just think how exciting this would be if we were being chased by imp galleys." That was pretty much how the crew viewed things, too. This was an easy trip compared to their months of naval warfare. They sat around on crates and played cards with the Necro Nords. There was plenty of mead and food passed around, so it was more like a festival atmosphere than their usual run. Rebec kept mostly to the steering. The crew only had to man oars once, to get them around a large submerged iceberg. It was nothing they hadn't done hundreds of times and usually under a lot more pressure. By this point, Baldur and the men could make out the College of Winterhold, where Baldur figured the Queen must've been by now. Never had he traveled so quickly, or seen such a view of his people's ancestral home. The men were in good spirits, as was he, a few bottles of mead under. While he was watching, Ulfric appeared next to him in an equally pleased mood. "It feels good to get out of Solitude in such fine fashion doesn't it High General?" "That it...what?" asked Baldur, slightly surprised, but not really. "You heard me. Brund's been informed, but no one's really surprised. A lot of things are changing and I'll be preoccupied with making the transition of power from Solitude to Windhelm where it belongs. That will keep me busy. So you'll need the authority to give the green light to things when I'm unable to. I trust your judgement. It'll be made official at the feast. It won't be much of a change, but the people of Skyrim will look to you even more than before. This basically makes you my right hand man. Like a Shield-Thane. Galmar's still my adviser of course, but you're Skyrim's watchdog. Guard her well." Ulfric stuck out his hand for Baldur. This was a lot of responsibility to take on, he knew. Before, his actions and decisions weren't seen as his, but Ulfric's. Now, his name would be mentioned more on any action he took, good or bad. But Ulfric needed a hand, and Baldur was ready to help. He took his hand firmly now, feeling the weight of what this meant. Especially for when the Great War came, whether Ulfric too was there or not. "It's an honor, High King Stormcloak." "Same to you, High General Red-Snow." Ulfric turned to walk away, yawning and going towards the privates quarters to rest, when Baldur said, "Hey, Ulfric, about the private quarters...I was wondering if me and Re..." "Oh yea, boy am I beat! I should get some rest, thanks for offering, Baldur." Ulfric grinned after he cut him off as he continued towards the room. "Damn it." Baldur, laughed and turned back to the coast, cursing under his breath. Rebec saw the exchange between Baldur and the king from where she sat, and knew what the handshake meant. She gave a little sigh, but there wasn't much time to think about anything except what she was doing. Winterhold to Windhelm was the hard part. They would have to turn away from the coast, and navigate the ice fields. The hull was made to cut through ice, but this would slow them down. The waters around Winterhold had strange eddies and undercurrents since the Great Collapse. This was what Rebec was known for, however, taking this treacherous route with only the light of the moons and her experience to guide her. As she began the turn north, she looked back and saw the sun setting above the cliffs of Winterhold. Beyond that, a black smudge moved across the sky over the mountains. As it wheeled, Rebec recognized it as a dragon. Many of them had been hunted and there were few attacks any longer, but obviously there were still a few around. "Ysmir's beard," she said, stirred at the sight. Baldur was wondering what she was looking at, until a familiar sound directed his eyes to the mountains and sent a shiver down his spine. When he spoke, it was almost in a whisper, as if the dragon may hear them. "By the gods, I hate seeing those things. At least its far off. I'm glad all we ever saw Alduin do was breathe and rain fire. Who knows what else they know of the thu'um. Remember Herkel the Fool, belcher of shields?" Rebec kept her eyes on the water, but a little smile broke despite the sight of the dragon. She loved to hear Baldur's stories. "No, but you're going to tell me." "You don't remember the tale of Herkel the Fool? Truly? Well, listen close, and be careful not to suffer the same fate as his King from listening too long, hehe." Listen to my tale, come and gather 'round, In the days of Ysgrim whose voice was weighted with power sounds...., He said to his thanes and to his war-wives, "Those who walk with me who escaped with their lives, Saarthal has fallen, its many halls wont show, Who will remember her sights when buried under snow? Its fountain of voices and tusk house will no longer be sung, Who will there be to speak of the Jarl of Tongues? It saddens me to think his name unknown to families, Who will tell how he shot out the womb screaming profanities?" It was now that Herkel said he could save it in more than story, He claimed to know a way to somehow save Saarthal's glory, He asked if it would be pleasing that if not for very long, A Nord could say a prayer and see Saarthal in more than song, Ysgrim knew Herkel a fool, it was no different in this occasion, But sometimes Kyne would gift a man through what's called inspiration, So Ysgrim and his men turned their heads towards him to hear the fool speak, To see Saarthal again? Their interest was peaked, "Now Saarthal is destroyed, the elves made sure of that! They did this horrible deed even despite the fact, That I hurled shields like discs from my gut and killed their first rank, true, And Ericsdotter with icicle curtain dance killed their second out of the blue, And Broga Mountain farted, then killed their third and fourth next, And Vjevaka rolled numbers on runes and killed their sixth as if hexed," Herkel continued resiting deeds for all six hundred there, He continued until it hurt to speak due to the cold air, He finished by saying despite their deeds they couldn't kill all their foes, Yet when he stopped he realized now that all of his men had froze! This is why you should listen to your elders when you are told, That it is polite to interrupt when you feel that you are cold, "Oh no, I've talked so long that they lay dead next to my feet! They were obligated to listen through oath, now Saarthal's destruction is complete!" What a fool he was to think himself a clever man, Little did he know he aided Dagon in his plan, He showed up saying, "Haha what a **** up you are Herkel Shield-Fed! You talked so ******* long all of your comrades now lay dead! You have done what legions of elves could not do to him, You utterly destroyed the Host of Hoary King Ysgrim!" Herkel turned in fear and he began to beg and pray, Then he said "Wait a minute, this is not your summoning day!" "Well no shit, Herkel, the blood and fire is why I've risen, I whispered into elf ears to war to escape Alduin's prison! It was not a hard task, the elves hated you anyway, So now I'm off to destroy and enjoy the rest of my stay!" Herkel now broke off Olendrug, a frozen hammer on Ysgrim's belt, Then in anger struck Dagon on his head, which would soon be felt, He knocked out the evil demon who once was King of leaps, Then to the land of dreams he went as he was knocked to sleep, He was not proud of his deed, for he knew he had not won, He couldn't kill this demon, and he knew he could not run, If he woke up soon, he in anger could and surely would destroy nations, But it was now that Kyne granted him the gift of inspiration, He carried his men in twos back to the halls of great Saarthal, And knocked Dagon back to sleep so longer could he stall, Bringing his King and men took him three hundred something trips, But if his plan would work, not a single man could he skip, He'd make it seem like they were there still ready to fight, Now he began the next step in his plan while Dagon was out like a light, He got on his knees now and prayed to Alduin, dragon of time, And told him of his foolish stupid heinous and terrible crime, "Oh Alduin, please help but do not wake up because of me, For when you do you consume all, and thats not what I want from thee! I don't want you to bring my King back, for that's the domain of your brother, And I don't want you to set back time, tearing it asunder," The fool continued to pray hoping for a lucky break, And it was now that Dagon woke with a great headache, "How is this that I have been shafted by Molag Bal? Saarthal stands still in its glory? It's not destroyed at all! But I thought its halls did not stand and its Tusk house did fall, And away did the Nords retreat slowly in a crawl. I once remembered dead was Ysgrim and his warrior band, Yet now they're arranged for war and now do they still stand? I've pierced the veil too early!" said Dagon as his pants he shat, "Even the laws of trickery won't help if I do that!" So now he did vanish back to his prison in the void, And soon did Saarthal's glory disappear to disaster avoid, It was brought on by a prayer by Herkel now the clever, But sadly the snows came to bury Saarthal forever, He did not have comfort for his friends did not still stand, So to High Hrothgar did he go, for he was a clever man. This is why now if a Nord prays hard enough, You can see Saarthal's glory, no longer in the rough. "Whew, still alive, Rebec?" Baldur playfully poked Rebec in the ribs to make sure she wasn't frozen. Rebec had been grinning through this recitation. For one thing, she'd been fibbing about not knowing the story, and only wanted to hear Baldur tell his version. Meanwhile there was activity below as the crew was taking to oars to get the ship through an icy patch. "That's a good one, love. You know that's Saarthal over there behind us," she said, gesturing with her head back towards land. "Maybe you want to jump off and go tell old Herkel hello. I don't recommend it, since by the time you swim to shore you'll look just like his friends." There were some cracks and groans beneath the ship as the ice gave way. Rebec winced and leaned up over the side to make sure it was ice cracking and not the new hull. It went on like that several more hours, into the night. Rebec was glad that Baldur stayed next to her, keeping her warm and talking to her. During the long nights of the naval war, she had longed for just that thing, remembering the Stormcloak captain she'd met in Falkreath hold and wondering if she'd ever see him again. As the moons were high, though, she said, "You can go catch some shut-eye if you want, Baldur. I'll sleep when we get to Windhelm." Baldur stood behind her, embracing her as he looked at the reflection of the moons in the water. Their breath in the cold air rose and joined above them as they spoke, fading into the night as the warm air cooled. "No, I'm fine. Got to keep our Admiral from freezing to death. Besides, this is what I was thinking about when I wrote that I wanted to go sailing. Just like this. An impressive piece of Nord craftsmanship. You designed her well." Rebec reached behind her and clasped his hand briefly before returning to the steering. She didn't say anything, but at least for her, that was all that needed to be said. As the sun rose, they had turned back towards land, with morning pink and gold streaking the sky. Mazoga came up from below and took the helm so that Rebec and Baldur could use the privy and get some breakfast. As they stood at the rail drinking warmed cider out of metal cups, Rebec gestured up at a structure they were passing. High on a hill, a stone mound was perched with two hawk heads looking out towards the sea, towards Atmora. "You know what that is?" she asked Baldur. "The tomb of Ysgramor," answered a voice from behind them. Ulfric had come up out of the hold and stood next to them, gazing up at the barrow. Baldur turned behind him, surprised that Ulfric had appeared. "That it is. I wanted to go visit there, ever since Vilkas in the Companions mentioned it. Apparently they found all the pieces of Wuuthrad and they've unlocked his tomb. We could go inside now." Ulfric nodded in approval. "That would be a fun trip, if I could ever get the time to leave the palace. Which is unlikely. Now more than ever we need the strength of our ancestors. Now that the crown sits upon the throne of Ysgramor once more, perhaps we've come a step closer in spirit to them. Another step in rediscovering our true selves, so that we can plow through droves of Thalmor much like this ship through the ice." "Hear hear," Rebec said, lifting her cup to that. "Though I doubt the Thalmor will have the stomach to attack us in our own waters or come over Pale Pass again, not unless Cyrodiil falls." Ulfric said, "They won't need to. We're sending the best fighters in Tamriel to show them what happens when you poke the bear. Isn't that right, High General?" Baldur said, "Damn right, High King. With the Grim Ones leading. First in the front..." "Last in the back. By the way, I took a look at that requisition order and added a few surprises to it. Hope you don't mind. Something that will symbolize your new station..." Baldur said, "Really? W-" Ulfric raised his hand and cut him off. "Wouldn't be a surprise if I told you now would it?" Ulfric gave a grin at Baldur's excitement. He had a good reason to be. Rebec glanced between the two of them. "You called him High General. It's official then?" she asked. Ulfric nodded. "It's official. I'll announce it at the Feast of the Dead. For all intents and purposes, he's still a normal general. He'll just have the authority to sanction things in the army as I would. For instance, he can interfere with Brund's war and give him orders, or cancel his orders in place of his own. And I of course can do the same to Baldur's. Basically exactly what you do as High Admiral, Rebec. I need someone to do this while I'm busy with domestic issues and can't always keep an eye on everything. But also, he's a symbol for our forces. Our people. My shield-thane. So don't screw up, Baldur, your actions still reflect upon me, since I gave you this authority." She looked at Baldur to see how he was taking this. Ulfric made it sound reasonable and like nothing much would change, but that itself would change when it came to marching into war like they'd just been describing. Baldur said, "I won't screw up. It's what I was born to do. And I'm glad to do it." He hadn't shown it, but the responsibility and Kingdom wide recognition was making his heart race from nervousness. Whether the Great War went well or not would now largely fall on him. The blame as well as recognition. Once again, just like Falkreath. "I know you won't, which is why I picked you. And admittedly, the High General and Admiral being joined makes for a better song. Now, forget about business for now. I understand you two are trying for kids? Perhaps ours will be born around similar ages." Rebec choked on her ale, but recovered. "Uh.. well we've got to get you married first, don't we, Your Majesty? Married to someone worthy of being queen of Skyrim. I guess we could use some more little axe-chuckers, that's true." Ulfric chuckled at the thought of little Nord babies throwing axes, then stood up. Small talk wasn't something he was accustomed to unless it involved war. Ulfric said, "Well, see to it that we have them then. Enjoy your morning." Baldur was thankful that he decided to leave. He never told him about Jala, so he wasn't aware of how that made Rebec feel. As he walked off, Ysana made her way to the pair, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she did. Then she fell on Baldur's neck, leaning on him as he sat. "Good morning, ma. Had a nice sleep?" "No. I know I'm a Nord and all, but damn, it's cold up here. Much warmer in Markarth. That Galmar man was nice enough to park his bedroll next to mine to help keep me warm though." Baldur's brow knit, while he gritted his teeth. "He was....was he?" Rebec had to bite her lip hard and cover her mouth to keep from laughing. Working to keep a straight face, she said, "Glad you got some sleep, ma. Hard to do what with the rowers and all." She glanced at Baldur. "I'm thinking of staying in Windhelm through to the feast, and sitting out the race. Or else we can just go back to Dawnstar and pick up my pa. We all know this is the fastest ship. Let some of the others have a fair shot at winning." Only someone who had known Rebec long would know what a big change it was for her to not want to compete hard for top billing, but she no longer felt like she had to do that. "Are you sure, Rebec? Could be a lot of fun. Didn't you want to see what she could do?" he asked. "I'm pretty confident now after this trip. We could use the time to travel around Windhelm if you wanted, like to Ysgramor's tomb." Baldur couldn't help but smile at the thought of that, even though they'd be missing out on the race. He was still surprised that Rebec would pass up sailing again, even when she didn't need to, but perhaps the thought of visiting Ysgramor's tomb was more tantalizing. Or perhaps wanting to make sure Vigge came. "Alright then, it's settled. Maybe we can go troll hunting, eh? Vigge would like that I bet." "Who's Vigge?" asked Ysana. "That's Rebec's father. A very nice man. Handsome too." Baldur may not have liked the thought of someone with his mother, but he'd be damned if Galmar was going to be the one that got with her. He'd never hear the end of it. Now Rebec had to turn away or she surely would laugh. Ysana had no idea they were lining up suitors for her. "Looks like we'll be expected in Windhelm," the admiral said, pointing to some Stormcloak lookouts who were hailing them from shore. Sure enough, when they finally lowered sail and rowed into Windhelm's bay, there were crowds of people lining the shore waiting to welcome the High King back to his city. Banners had been lifted above the Palace of Kings and were snapping in the morning breeze. "Welcome home, Your Majesty. Few hours earlier than I thought we'd make it in," Rebec said from her place at the steering, tone proud. She'd give it a good looking over to make sure no weaknesses had shown themselves, but all in all the new ship had performed better than her expectations. "And a fine ride she was, High Admiral. It was an honor to see you in action, although it would have been more enjoyable if we had some Imperial galleys to sink." he said through a grin. "Heh, well I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad for a boring ride," Rebec answered. Then she had to pay attention to getting the ship in between the quays and safely to its mooring, which was not easy with a larger ship and new steering. The ground crews tied it down and put up the gangplank. While Ulfric and his guard were disembarking, Rebec rejoined Baldur and Ysana. "Got cobwebs in your head? That'll pass, in a day or two. Let's go find a hot meal and warm bed." Even Rebec had a bit of woozy feeling from being on the water again, with the boat's constant rocking, since she had been away from sea long enough to get land legs. She paused to give some instructions to the crew, then waited until most of them were off to disembark. Getting through the crowd was no simple task. Most of the people were there to see Ulfric, but there were also ship captains nosy for a look at the new vessel, and hawkers from the shipping companies wanting to sign the Wisp up for business. Rebec waved them all off, too worn out, though behind her she heard Mazoga arranging for appointments to meet them later. As Ulfric and the Grim Ones cut a swathe through the crowds of Nords all looking to see Ulfric, Baldur could hear him yelling out occasionally to the crows. "It feels good to sit upon the throne as King in Ysgramor's honored city, as it should be! Skyrim is once again our own!" This was met with loud applause, as to them it was a return of their hero. For a lot of them, the whole war hadn't felt like it was over since Ulfric was gone. But now it truly was. Occasionally Baldur caught the odd Dunmer or two in the crowds, not clapping, but he saw a few of them giving him a nod, which he returned. And there was also the odd Nord or two giving him the eye in disapproval. They stopped to turn to Candlehearth Hall, but Ulfric stopped and turned back around when he noticed they were no longer following him. "Hey, where are you three going?" asked Ulfric. Rebec looked from the king to Baldur and back. "We were going to catch some sleep, Your Majesty. Is there a strategy meeting?" Her lack of enthusiasm at this idea was apparent. Ulfric was chipper, but he'd spent a night snug in their quarters. "Hmm? No, what I mean is why are you going to the tavern? You are my High General and Admiral. You can stay in the Palace. I only didn't offer for Solitude because you have a house there, and I'm sure you'd have preferred to stay there. But here, you can sleep in the halls of Ysgramor! I need capable people close at hand after all, and you two are most capable. And of course, your ma will be allowed to stay as well." "I get to stay in a Palace?!?" proclaimed Ysana excitedly. The loud cheery tone of it hurt Baldur's head from fatigue and being sensitive to sound. "Well that would be fantastic, don't you think, Rebec? Beats dealing with all the noise in Candlehearth hall when we're trying to sleep." said Baldur, whose eyes were quite red from rubbing. "Right now I could sleep on a flour sack in the marketplace," she replied. "But the palace will do nicely. Thank you, King Ulfric." She looped an arm around Baldur's waist and followed the royal entourage up the slope towards the Palace of Kings, feeling a little like Rebec the Red despite all. Ulfric being well rested took his stay on his throne, which he took a while to sit in as he was taking in the moment. Jorleif had the trio follow him to the Northern section of the palace's upstairs. "And here we are, honored halls of lord Ysgramor." he said. "You know, its a bit uh...stony." said Ysana, who was rather underwhelmed. Baldur figured a Dibellan would appreciate Solitude more. "Aren't you used to stone by now from Markarth, ma?" he said. "True...." was all she'd managed to say. "It's an Ysmir kind of place, ma, not a Dibella kind of place," Rebec said. "But you wait until the nighttime when the aurora lights up the mountains around here and reflects off the snow. Then you might change your mind." To Jorleif she asked, "You got some sewing supplies here somewhere? Ysana is making the wedding dress for the new queen." That wasn't strictly true, since they hadn't heard from Fire-Hand about it, but it got the steward moving. As he saw to Ysana, Rebec pulled Baldur into their quarters. "Come on, High General. I'm going to sleep all day and then I'm going to eat Ulfric out of palace and home. The Wisp sure is a pretty ship, though, isn't she? Sails like a charm." "She sure does. A pretty ship for a pretty woman." Baldur dropped their sacks heavily on the ground and climbed into bed, not bothering to get into bed clothes. He only took off his bear, cuirass, gauntlets and boots, leaving the kilt on to roll up in the sheets. He had them rolled up tightly, leaving none for Rebec. She was too busy getting out of her leathers to notice the covers heist, but her attack tactics for such aggression were well established. Smacking Baldur hard in the rump with the flat of Kyne's Talon, she said, "Wake up and let me in there, Red-Snow." This was followed by a quick charge under the corner of the furs and a preparation for tickling as evasive maneuver. Baldur quickly sprung his trap now and threw the covers over her head, wrapping her up like a caterpillar in a cocoon. After that Baldur rolled over her and used her as a pillow, giving loud snoring sounds as if he was asleep. "Agh. The things I do for you." Rebec turned from invader to war martyr, curling an arm around Baldur's shoulder and instantly drifting into sleep. Fake snoring and blankets in her face could not faze a sailor who could sleep through a raging Sea of Ghosts storm. Baldur waited a while, savoring his victory before he eventually got up and rolled Rebec out the sheets while she was sleeping. Then finally, Baldur too jumped in the sheets and placed her head on his chest with his arms around her before closing his eyes to rest. If tired long nights like the one they just had ended like this, he wouldn't mind sailing at all. There was no signs of life while Baldur was pushing and pulling on the bedcovers, but as they settled in to sleep again, Rebec murmured sleepily, "You silly man." She had a little smile on her face. Baldur was just about to doze off when she said this. He ran a hand through her hair to soothe her while she laid there. "You love it, silly woman. I'm surprised you're not out yet. Waiting to hear my sweet nothings first?" Baldur too smiled and kissed her on the head. She turned her head to kiss him as a reply, though it ended up on his nose. Baldur rolled Rebec to her side gently, then positioned himself so that his mouth was next to her ears as he whispered. "Raining raining on my head, making me wish I were dead, as I'm about to pull the rope, the sun comes shining, giving hope, sweetheart sweetheart is it you? Come to shed grey from the blue, saving me from gloomy woe, now the skies cast a rainbow, birds now flying through that band, your beauty great upon the land, Rebec Rebec here with me, beautiful terror on the sea, Rebec Red-Snow is her name, puts those tavern girls to shame, all other women look the same, and Rebec is the one to blame, sexy as a girl can be, to bad for others....she belongs with me." Baldur occasionally kissed softly at her ear while he went on and did so now when he finally finished. She woke up a little, enough to hear the poem, and opened her eyes to look at him. The Bosmer Maori had been amazed at Baldur's never-ending well of songs, and so was she, only in a different way. "My bard," she said proudly, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. Her arm then went around his shoulder and pulled him closer, her head tucked under his chin. In her mind, with sea headiness still affecting her, it felt like they were still on the waves, and that was perfect peace. As Baldur held her to him, he couldn't help but feel like everything was right in the world. Even with an impending war coming and him being largely responsible for its success or failure, he really didn't care right now at all. Rebec erased all those worries from him. Thinking on those thoughts and his short poem kept him awake still, even though her warm breathing on his neck threatened to lull him to sleep. He waited for a while, stroking her hair to see if she had yet fallen asleep, or if her thoughts of peace were also too sweet to fade out of just yet. Her breathing slowed, and Rebec was out. A woman of few words to the last. Once she was, Baldur smiled and leaned back again with her still tucked under his neck. He continued whispering sweet nothings until he too finally passed out. Like Herkel, he was a fool, but for a different reason. He was a man in love, and a man of many many words to the last.

Rebec, Baldur and Karsh Solitude evening The finishing touches on her ship's steering mechanism, made from Eldergleam wood and coated in the pitch her father had given her, were done, and the Black Wisp was now being painted and its sail being sewn. Before they went to Windhelm, Rebec decided it was time to write a letter to Boldir and Carlotta. After the Feast of the Dead, she and Baldur would have to leave for Hammerfell to get ahead of any problems with the alliance there, and then time would be short. While Baldur was busy with his meadery project in the basement, Rebec took out a sheet of paper for her letter. An hour later, it contained all of one word: Boldir, Meanwhile Rebec sat staring out the window, twisting and untwisting her hair into the same braid. Baldur's mead was going well, although the fermentation still wasn't complete, which Baldur knew would be a problem. The mead would be done by the time the feast would begin, but would it be good enough to bring? Baldur was excited to show it off, especially after he had his own label made, complete with Rebec's suggested name of Baldurbrau, but he realized it was probably best to simply let it sit. Nords don't half ass mead. You either do it right, or not at all. Baldur dipped a ladle into Witchie's Frost Honey mead to see if the snow berries were setting in well. After bringing it to his lips, not only did he realize they were setting in, but the mead was starting to pick up a slight chill. "Mmm, sweet kiss of Kaan indeed." After tasting the other containers of fermenting mead, Baldur left from his little hang out spot that he now referred to as the bear cave since it now always smelled like honey and he spent a lot of time there with the mead. Rebec...what's she up to? It's been rather quiet for the past hour or so. Usually her and Ysana are like birds and can never shut up. When he got out he noticed that his mother was in a chair, taking a cat nap by herself, still holding onto his book in the living quarters of the house. She needed to be given something to do, or she was going to go crazy. Baldur made a note of it and would remember to ask Rebec about it later. He figured Rebec was busy doing something, since Ysana was left to her own devices and started looking for her upstairs. "Rebec, where are you?" "Up here," Rebec answered absently, stlll twirling hair and was mentally running the typical movement of ice floes around Winterhold this time of year. Baldur walked past the door to the study, then leaned back to see her sitting at the desk by the window. When he walked in, he hugged her from behind while his chin rested on her head. "What are you up to? Ma's asleep by herself." Rebec smiled at the hug. "What? Oh, I..." The sight of the paper in front of her brought back what she was supposed to be doing. "I'm writing a letter to Boldir." That was an obvious exaggeration for what had actually been going on. Baldur took a look from the window she was gazing out of down to the paper. He tried not to laugh, but a chuckle escaped anyway. "Dear Boldir.....Wow, that's an impressive piece of literature you got there Rebec." Now he didn't bother holding back his chuckling, enjoying the opportunity to tease her. Her shoulders sagged. "I'm... thinking. Getting ready to write." "Mhmm. How long have you been thinking here in this chair?" Baldur was still smiling. "I think I just need more mead." She jumped up, glad to have something to do. "Are you going to write him a letter, too? That damned bird ought to be back soon, or not?" "Yea, I forgot to write one in time since his last one. I think I forgot to show you the last one. Here..." Baldur walked over to the desk and sorted through some reports and a few papers he had been writing on. In the midst of Baldur's unorganized clutter, Baldur pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper and handed it to Rebec. It read: Dear Baldur, Damn. How do I even respond to all that you said to me? I guess I could start by saying that I'm glad to hear that you've come as far as you have. Some of what you wrote, about your parents, about Toki, and of course about Jala, it felt so terrible just to read, and that was for me. There was a moment where I actually wanted to turn the carriage around and head out to be there with you two. Obviously, that didn't happen, and it wasn't needed. You've got a knack for solving your troubles on your own it seems. You two have been through a lot more out west than I'd have ever imagined. A lot more than I have down here, that's for sure. Reading the ending cheered me up, as I'm sure you'd intended. I'm glad to see that things are now looking up for you two, and I can only hope that that hasn't changed by the time this letter reaches you in Solitude. Speaking of the letter, interesting means of delivery. Witchie's bird? I'm not sure if I want to know how that was arranged. Anyway, you already know all of your going-ons. Mine, naturally, given what I do now (and the fact that I haven't had any life changing revelations or epiphanies), are far less interesting. I cleared a bandit camp, ran into an old aquaintence, founded a small town, gave Mila a magical weapon, and chopped a guy's head off. In that order. Nothing of interest happened in the bandit camp I cleared, but it is to be the location of a new outpost designated to provide enchanted weapons for Whiterun. Vignar and I hope that the outpost will grow into a town. The forge there is magical you see, and produces weapons with an interesting Lunar effect. That puts two mythical forges under Whiterun's control. I used the forge to make a dagger for Mila. I was skeptical about it at first, but she's thirteen now, and I felt that she was ready for a real weapon, and honestly, it's as much for my own peace of mind as it is for her safety. Now, as for that aquaintence, he's a Stormcloak Captain named Thulik Heavywinter. I doubt you know of him. He's not anyone of importance as far as rank or family goes. He's skilled though. All of us from Greenwall were. That's where I knew him from. Remember when I told you about my time in the Legion? His name may have come up. I don't remember. Anyway, he'd been sent to try to get me back in the army, back at my old rank as a Captain. I refused. But this is only getting mentioned because Thulik happened to recognize someone. Idolaf Battle-Born. I'm sure you remember him. Turns out he'd been one of Tullius's Sons of Whiterun. A terrorist. And he never went to Bruma when given the chance. You know what we do to terrorists. I don't regret it, but having the Battle-Borns for enemies is dangerous. They posed a big threat to my family when left unchecked. Don't worry though, I took care of it. Now, as I'm writing this, we're on the road to Riften, where we'll be seeing Carlotta's family. No telling how long we'll be there. Hopefully not too long though. You know why. Even after all these years, the thought of being in that city makes me uneasy. The trip won't be a short one in any case though. You see, I just had an idea while pausing between paragraphs. I think we'll travel a little more than Riften before heading back to Whiterun. I'll write Vignar and Burik when I'm done with this to let them know. I guess I'm done with this. Give Rebec my regards and take care, brother. Boldir The ending of the words is REBBABO. "Ha ha, you got Boldir saying that elven nonsense." She took a draw on her mead bottle and sat down to look over the letter again. "Moon-enchanted weapons? Whiterun's a strange place. You know a witch ran that town for a long time. But I bet she came there because those things, the Skyforge and this moon forge, were already there." Rebec put her feet up on the chair next to hers, her quill still untouched. Baldur said after grinning, "Ah yes, Vigge told us that tale before we left, remember? With his little added bard section to warn you about me, the big bad bard taking away his daughter, hehe. I should've known that Battle-Born man was a son of Whiterun. I pushed him in the water with that cow last time we were there. I'm quite surprised they had the balls to give Boldir some trouble, but he seems to have scared them somehow. Hey, this is all good stuff to ask him about in the letter, don't you think? We can write it together. Want my help?" Rebec glanced dubiously at him. "I'm writing my own letter. I don't want junior to think I forgot about him." "It'll be from your perspective of course, Reb. You're mad at me for teasing aren't you?" asked Baldur. "I'm getting around to it, that's all. These things can't be rushed." She sat up straight in her chair and took the quill up again, staring down at the page with cheek propped on her hand and brow knit with concentration. Baldur walked up to the chair and removed his bear claws and sat them down on the desk. While rubbing her shoulders, he said, "You've got to relax. Let your thoughts run on the page. What's the first thing that comes to mind when you think about what you want to say to him? Maybe how things are going first? Start small." Sighing, she said, "It all runs together. Damn it, you write the thing. Make it sound like it's me and junior won't know the difference." Baldur paused from rubbing her shoulders for a moment, thinking on the proposal, then decided he'd try. "Fine, stand up. We'll do it together." She stood and grabbed the mead, finished it and grabbed another. Contemplatively she said, "Dear Boldir..." As Baldur took a seat, he pulled Rebec with him so she'd be seated in front of it as well. "Okay, dear Boldir. Things are going....." he said, waiting for her to fill in the blanks. "Start from when we first got in Solitude. Remember what happened with Brund? How'd you feel about that? And the surprise you got after?" "I don't want to start off talking about that fathead Brund," Rebec replied, her tone offended. "Dear Boldir..." There was a long pause, then finally, "We're in Solitude. Ship's almost done." Smiling, she gestured at the paper. "That's how you start. With the good stuff." "Well there you go." he said, smiling encouragingly. "Now write about the ship's details, what we did with the Eldergleam wood for it and our plans once it's built. About Windhelm. Then he'll want a summary of things that went on here in Solitude. About fathead, the Queen, then ask him questions and comment on his letter. Can you do that?" "I thought you were writing it." She nuzzled at Baldur's temple, one arm around his neck and playing with his hair. This was a lot more fun than what she'd been doing for the last hour. Inspired now, she went on, "We put Eldergleam wood in it and some other stuff. It's called the Black Wisp. Lorgar showed up again and fought with Baldur. Bastard just won't die. We're getting a new queen and she's not a milk drinker this time. When are you coming to visit?" She paused, then added, "Signed: Rebec." Baldur rubbed his chin for a while, wondering if he should let it stay that way or not. Boldir knew how Rebec was with expressing herself, and knew writing even this much was a lot for her to get around to doing. "Hmm, I suppose that will do...You sure there's nothing else you want to add? Maybe something like how you miss him and wish he was here, how you're feeling personally...stuff like that? What do you think of the Queen trying to stick mages on your ships? That'll be interesting to write on." Rebec had to pull back a bit to see if Baldur was joking. "I'm not writing that. Boldir doesn't care about all that shit and he already knows I want him to come visit." Baldur sighed, but kept his tone patient, being aware that this was new to her. "Of course he cares about all that, Rebec. He already knows that you want him to come, but its still nice to see it written. You know I love you, yet you still like to hear it right? Writing that kind of stuff in letters is important. And he'll care about what you think on this stuff because it concerns you. And we're his family." She sat silent a little while, then shook her head and muttered about having married a bard. Taking up the quill, she straightened in Baldur's lap so she could write, and scratched out a few lines comprising what she had already recited. After that she added: "Now Baldur says I need to tell you how I feel. I feel fine, except Brund is being a horker's asshole and the navy's got a lot of debts. And I miss you and Carlotta."Pausing, she added quickly, "And Mila. So you'd better come visit soon or I'll kick your ass. Rebec." Putting the quill down, she regarded the letter with satisfaction. "That wasn't so hard." Baldur's lips moved in a way that said 'Not bad', as he nodded in approval. "See? That's better. It's not very detailed, but it at least has that Rebec flare that lets him know its really from you. Oh, don't forget our group signature." Rebec gave Baldur a hard stare. Slowly, under protest, she picked the quill back up and dipped it in the ink again. She had to study the phrase from Boldir's letters for a minute before writing: The ending of the words is REBABBO. Baldur made me write this. "You misspelled REBBABO." Baldur said as he tapped on the paper. "Don't worry, you won't turn into an elf if you spell it correctly. Unless I'm the forest man secretly, looking to trick you into being an Aldmer with my elfish ways, hehe." Rebec grumbled, but put a neat line through the misspelled word and wrote the correct version next to it. Then she kissed her Kyne amulet quickly and put it back under her shirt. "I'm hungry. Writing is hard work. I'm going to go get a horker sandwich, then I can watch you write your big masterpiece and correct all your mistakes." Baldur brought his arms around Rebec and hugged her to him while he kissed her cheek. Afterwards he said, "Your pa said it himself. I'm a Master Bard. Master Bards don't make mistakes, silly woman. A horker sandwich sounds fantastic at the moment. Can I have one?" "Is that so. My pa would also tell you not to let your head get too big for your fancy helmet." She smirked and kissed playfully at his ear before extracting herself to retrieve their food. On the way, she checked on Ysana and carefully put a blanket over her. A few minutes later Rebec came back into the study with more mead and a stack of horker and Eidar cheese sandwiches piled unceremoniously on a plate. "Ma still sleeping downstairs?" He said as he went to place some food on his claws and realized he took them off. After he did, he grabbed a gauntlet and stuck it in a piece of cheese as a makeshift fork. "I don't know if she's just old and needs naps or if she's depressed. She won't tell me but I know she is. We need to get her something to do to get her mind off....pa." "The queen-to-be left Solitude already, but I told your ma to just sew something and when Fire-Hand sees it, she won't be able to resist. Maybe she didn't believe me. We should ask Galmar about it. He's the wedding planner in the palace, apparently." Rebec grinned. "He already asked me when the ship would be ready because Ulfric might use it to go to Windhelm. Makes me a little nervous, having the king aboard for our maiden voyage, but I guess it's a good way to break her in." "Ma sewing the Queen to be a dress? Well I always said yours made you look like royalty. I'll encourage her to do so. Her and I may need to have a talk. By the way, can we invite Vigge for the race?" asked Baldur. "I already wrote to him. The old coot may or may not show up. No sense in planning on him." Rebec glanced back towards the stair, thinking about Ysana's sadness and loneliness, and her own father clattering around in an empty house for the past few years. "You don't think...? Nah. That would be strange." "Think what?" said Baldur in between eating, oblivious to her thoughts. Rebec tapped her fingers on the table, nervous to even say what she thought. "Forget it. I was just...You know. Your ma. My pa." She lifted a brow and waited to see if Baldur would get it. "Uhuh, having them over should be nice," he said, still oblivious to what she was saying. He was too busy finishing off his horker sandwich. "So, what about it?" "For the love of Kyne. I just thought that maybe your ma and my pa might want to... you know. Bump hulls." Baldur who was face deep into the horker sandwich dropped it and was bumping his fist to his chest while coughing. Luckily, he caught the sandwich with his other hand. Oh, and of course, he didn't choke to death. Baldur hadn't said anything after that. He just leaned back in his chair and gave her the same look Vigge had given her when Baldur told him he killed his father. It said, 'Rebec....what the ****?' Finally, Baldur said, "I don't...I mean...I guess they....by the gods..." "I know, I know. Don't let the horker get you, it was just a thought. Your ma's a beautiful woman and she's been very... lively in the past. And they're both alone now." She paused and watched the colors changing in Baldur's expression. "Alright, forget I said anything. Ysmir's beard, you wouldn't think we'd been in a war and seen men dying in every stage of disembowelment." "Sorry, sorry. It's just...hard. For me to consider that, not that its up to me really. She just seems fragile to me even though I know she's not. So I'm protective. I was worried she'd want to fall back to her ways, but she's not a priest anymore. Still, she's not dead either. If she's going to start...living again, I suppose Vigge would be safer than some stranger. As weird as this would be...Guess I know how he must've felt now." Baldur took one last bite to finish his horker. Rebec laughed. "We going to send him to the basement? He might drink all your mead out of revenge. Anyway, yes I expect he'll turn up either here or in Windhelm, if only to inspect the ship. Otherwise we'll have to stop in Dawnstar on our way to Hammerfell. We really going to leave your ma all alone while we go there? My sister-in-law would love her company. They'd be thick as two thieves by the time we got back from the Alik'r or wherever it is we have to go. The ship only has the one private quarters, but we can partition off a space in the hold so she'll have privacy." "No, she can come. When you said 'ever thought of being a sailor', I thought you meant as a lifestyle, not just to come with us. I think traveling to new places would do her some good. And if Vigge does drink all the mead, he'll have both me and the the mage to answer to. When are we taking this maiden voyage anyway? Looking forward to getting cozy in the private quarters, hehe. That and seeing just how fast this new ship can go. A lot of money was sunk into that thing. Hope it was worth it. Could've bought a lot of weapons and armor otherwise. Enough to outfit twice as many Grim Ones." "She'll pay for herself in time. It was my ship that sank to the bottom of the Sea of Ghosts, that was my livelihood." Her tone is defensive. "Not that I could've gone anywhere anyway, with the imperials blockading. Still, I can't help but be sorry for all that happened. Maybe we should've stuck it out a while and not attacked them right away. All those good men dying, for nothing." "That's war. Sometimes you do good, which in your case you did damned good. Sometimes men die and it seems like its meaningless. They died for their homes, families, freedom, and their Captain. I don't think those men would say they died for nothing," he said. "They were given a chance to do something big, and they knew what they were getting into. Any of them seem afraid when you told them what they'd be doing?" "Afraid, sure. I was afraid. More of failing than of dying. I was also thinking about the imps, though. All those young boys so far from home, and it was all so damn senseless. At any rate, if we're taking Ulfric on our maiden voyage, he'll get the captain quarters. Sorry, loverboy." Rebec grinned. It caught her thoughts sometimes, too, being with Baldur on the ship, or on one of the painted-sand beaches in Hammerfell. Those were the good thoughts about what they had before them. The rest of it was a lot more worrisome. Baldur's face was crestfallen after she mentioned Ulfric taking the Captain's Quarters. "....damnit. Stupid Ulfric. Oh well, hopefully the ship moves like the wind then. It'll still be nice. We'll be snug up deck under the stars as the ship moves. Unless you're to afraid to snuggle in front of Mazoga, hehehe." "Maz is a sailor, she's immune." Rebec sat thinking a moment. Maybe it was writing the letter to Boldir that was bringing all these thoughts of the war back. "One of our guys who got killed when the ship sank, he was her bunkmate for a while. Nothing serious. Sailors don't often get serious, and that's why." "I see. Well, looks like we're breaking all the rules then. It worries you, doesn't it? Us on this ship. What happened to the last ones. I remember you saying you thought you were cursed?" Stirring uneasily, Rebec said, "I guess. It's a useless thought. Just an excuse for failure. Of course it worries me, thinking one mistake I make could be the death of others, including you now. I've already got a lot of deaths on my head. So now you know why I wasn't upset about your book, the bandit stuff. I can't ever forget the faces of my crew, or the screams. Let's not talk about it." She got up, taking the letter to Boldir with her, and melted some wax to blob on it for the seal. "When is that cursed bird supposed to show up again?" "Sometime today or by the time we're on the ship. That should be funny to see Ulfric's reaction. Ten Septims says he thu'ums Karsh out the air. I wonder what ma would say..." Rebec laughed at the idea of the bird flying ass-over-beak. She didn't really hate him, though, especially if he proved useful. For one thing, seeing Baldur so taken with him was cute. "Well here then, take the letter. I'm going to go see if your ma wants to finish up these sandwiches." Suddenly Baldur heard some kind of light knocking on the window and when he looked he saw a raven stand outside and peck on it. Baldur turned his head quickly to the right to see Karsh's ominous feathery form after he heard the sharp pecks. Grinning in anticipation of the rude bird's antics, Baldur opened the window for him, letting in a strong gust of wind when he did, which blew some of his papers of the desk. "Good day to you, my feathered friend. Food first I take it?" Karsh jumped up on Baldur's arm and onto his shoulder and spoke into his ear. "You're a mind reader. Now where's the roasted meat?" "Don't look at me, Rebec took all the food downstairs to my mother. Listen, I'll take you down there and see if I can get mom to share some, but see here, bird...." Baldur closed the window behind him. "Don't talk to ma. You can talk to me and I'll just pretend I'm doing some silly bard thing. Don't talk to her at all, don't be rude or peck at her. If you do any of those things, not only will you get no food, but I'm giving Rebec a pot, plate, vegetables and a dinnerfork, then I'm locking you in a room with her and won't let you out till you're pecked for dinner. Got me?" "Why should I care about your ma? Just don't let her near me then. Now where's my food?" "She's got the food. Hence why I'm bringing it up," countered Baldur. "Fine, fine. Just get me my damn food. I'm starving." Baldur cut his eye at the bird and felt like strangling him, but he resisted the urge. He ran downstairs with him on his shoulder to see Ysana and Rebec about the food. Calling out, Baldur said, "Wait, Rebec! Any horker loaves left?" Rebec came out, saying, "Are you still-" She stopped short as she saw Karsh. "Lovely. Here to eat ten times your weight in meat and complain again, bird?" Karsh spoke into Baldur's ear, sounding a bit annoyed. "You still owe me that home with soft blankets and storage." "Wait, this is the second visit from the last time remember? Lets just wait and see...." Ysana was sitting in her chair at a table about to dive into the stack of sandwiches when she saw her son whispering to the bird. "Umm, son? What are you doing with a crow and why is it in the house?" "It's a messenger raven, ma. As for my whispering, I like to pretend he can hear me. He's rather smart. His name is Karsh. Karsh, will you wave?" Baldur waved at Ysana so that she would think it was mimicking his movement. Muttering about being reduced to party tricks by a talking bird, Rebec went back into the pantry to get some more food. She returned with the leftover horker loaf and Eidar cheese. "This is all we've got, you black devil, so you'll like it or you'll like it." She set the meat board down near Baldur and backed away into the furthest corner. Karsh copied exactly and waved with his left wing, slapping Baldur in the face as he did and when he noticed the food he quickly stopped to jump down to the table where the plate was to dive into the feast. Ysana laughed pretty hard when Karsh slapped him and said, "I don't think your bird appreciates being used for tricks. What a strange sight. How did you train him to do that?" Baldur shot Karsh a venomous look, but brushed it off, figuring he wouldn't want to do 'tricks' either. "An...acquaintance of ours sent him. Rebec, a word?" Baldur walked over to where she was hiding in the corner. Whispering, he said, "Look, do me a favor. A big favor. I made a bet that you would warm up to the bird by the second visit from the first and if you didn't, I'd have to make him a bed in the study and some other silly stuff. Thing is, I forgot how stubborn you are. So please, make with the nice, eh?" "Baldur. I'm not strangling him or throwing my axe at him. This is me being nice. What do you want me to do, kiss his beak? Wait, don't answer that." Baldur sighed and shook his head. He was going to have to give if he wanted this to work. "Okay...I will do everything you say for an entire day if you be nice to him. That's smile, no harsh tone, and maybe pet him. That's it. And do it authentically. Do that and on whatever day you pick, I'll bring you breakfast in bed, clean, whatever. Just don't make me have to pamper a damn raven, please? Think about it this way, he'd be more annoyed in having to admit I was right than you being indifferent, or slightly mean to him." Rebec crossed her arms and considered refusing. She could get Baldur to do whatever she wanted anyway. However, if it would make him happy and vex the bird, it was worth it to try. Grumbling, she prepared herself, then stepped around him and abruptly produced a stiff smile. "How's the horker, you black... uh... Karsh?" "You like pretending he can talk too, do you Rebec?" Ysana was still stuffing her mouth with food as Karsh was. Baldur was staring in amazement at how much she was packing in. It was strange to see for someone with her figure. Karsh lookedup from the food and first at Rebec and then at Ysana, then Baldur and then back to Rebec again. He stretched out his wing and waved it in an inviting gesture to her to come forth. Baldur bit his nails, then covered his face with a hand. He had an idea of what was going to happen and knew Rebec's patience was short. Still, maybe the promise of doing what she said for a day would pull her through? Or just thwarting Karsh...Baldur peeked through his fingers as he watched. Come on, Rebec, come on.... Rebec edged closer, her fists balling. Karsh kept waving the wing, but now slightly downwards as he stretched his head up. Casting a baleful glance back at Baldur, Rebec plastered the smile back on and leaned down towards the bird. "Be a good girl and get me a bowl with apple juice and some freshly baked bread." The raven said with an undertone of joyful mocking. The muscles in Rebec's face twitched, but she managed to keep the smile stuck as if by pins. Slowly she turned and went back to the kitchen. There was rooting and cursing, then she came back with half a loaf of bread and the juice. "Fresh this morning is all we got," she said through gritted teeth as she put the food down. Karsh stretched up his beak to Rebec's ear again. "Now fetch me a soft blanket, I want to take a nap after I've eaten. And smile, if you are to fake being nice, you should smile a wide smile. And be more gentle." Karsh then made a short low croaking like he was chuckling before he started to eat again. "Rebec, come here real quick, please." said Baldur. He didn't know what the crow was asking, but he had an idea the bird was being an ass. Not used to being ordered around and not very impressed at it now, Rebec came over to Baldur and put her hands on her hips. "The bird wants a blanket and says my smile isn't wide enough. Now can we go back to using normal messengers like everyone else?" Baldur's brow looked like it was about to pop off at this point. He put a hand over her shoulder and whispered in her ear, then after he was done he kissed her on the cheek and said still whispering, "Have fun, you earned it." Rebec straightened, her brow lifting. Shaking her head, she went upstairs, returning a few moments later with a soft, furry blanket. Unceremoniously she scooped up the bird, tied him into a bundle and handed him over to Baldur. "Your bouncing baby raven, Red-Snow." "Thank you very much, love." he said, grinning. "Baldur, why are you two being so rough with the bird?" Ysana asked, curiously. "You two seem to really take this pretend thing seriously...." "Sure do. It's a bard thing." Baldur walked back upstairs to the study and signaled for Rebec to follow, so Ysana wouldn't get weirded out. "Now, lets get something straight. Rebec did her best to be nice to you, and you pushed it too far. So as far as the bet goes, I won. Got it?" The sack didn't move at all in response to Baldur's statement. Baldur swung the bag and banged it on the wall in response to the silence. "Got it?" Still no response. "Tough guy eh? Fine, we'll see how tough you are when I lock you in the desk and hunger kicks in...." The bag still didn't move. Baldur looked to Rebec and shrugged his shoulders. "He asked for it." He threw the bag in one of the drawers in the desk and sat in a chair next to it, waiting to hear something. Rebec, still dubious about the whole affair, stood with arms crossed. "You're the one who told me to be nice to him in the first place. You figure out what to do with him. Tell him to toughen up and act like a Nord raven, not some pampered imperial pet. I'm going to go clean up the mess. And talk to your ma and try to convince her we're not insane." "I told you to be nice, yes, but that didn't mean he could boss you around." said Baldur defensively. "Obviously he doesn't know the difference, so I'm going to teach him some manners." "Good luck with that," Rebec replied, and left to find Ysana. "Yea, thanks." he said. Baldur sat down at the desk and took out Rebec's letter, copying it exactly while he waited on Karsh, including the cross outs (he thought they were cute), in case Karsh decided in anger to drop their letter. After some time after he was done with the letter the bag started to move slightly, though it the movement was small, almost weak. Baldur heard the subtle shaking in the drawer and turned his head in Karsh's direction. "Ready to talk now, bird?" The bag moved slightly more, but not much. And the movement was slow. Baldur sighed in frustration and pulled the bag out from the drawer. Giving him a flick with his finger, Baldur said again, "Are you ready to talk?" The bag moved a bit more this time and a weak croaking was heard. Baldur started to grow slightly worried, but he was still cautious, aware that the bird could be trying to trick him. He closed the door to the room, then prepared to open the sack. "I'm going to let you out, but you try anything and you'll get more than a swing to the wall." With that, Baldur slowly untied the sack and scratched at Karsh's abdomen. "You alright, Karsh?" he tried holding back the sympathy in his voice, and did so mostly. Though Baldur felt there was something more than feather as he scratched Karsh, something icky. Karsh started to slowly get up as more vomit dripped from his beak. He stumbled back and forth before he could stand up, legs slightly shaking. "You're alright. Good, shake it off. You're a Raven of Skyrim, which makes you a Nord of the bird world. It's time you act like it. Your master wouldn't want you acting like some Imperial pet. He's a Nord! When you come here, you don't just represent yourself, you represent him as well! Now, on the matter of this bet, I convinced Rebec to be nice, and you took advantage of it. So I won. That is that. You don't have any other job than to deliver these letters, so if you don't want to go back to eating rotted meat, you'll do better to make sure we still want you around. Is that understood?" Karsh looked at Baldur with confused eyes before he fell to the side. Lying on the side he lifted the left, the one he wasn't lying on, and waved for Baldur to lean closer. Baldur wasn't sure whether the bird was acting or not, but he saw that he had vomit on him, so he decided to at least humor him. It was a bird after all, not really a Nord. Baldur gently picked up Karsh and wiped the vomit out of his feathers with the blanket then brought him to his ear. "What is it?" "What happened? I remember that hateful woman, some other woman that you think isn't smart enough to catch on to me talking, some bread and some other food, darkness, choking... And why do I have such a headache?" The raven didn't sound too well, but not sick. "What happened was you got thumped to a wall for not answering me. Rebec tried being nice to you, and you decided to be a brat. I won the bet, and you didn't acknowledge it." "I don't remember any of that. How do I know you aren't tricking me?" "Wow, I really must've hit you hard. I'm sorry about that Karsh, I overreacted. I'll make it up to you on the condition that you start acting like a Nord raven. As for if I'm tricking you, why else would I have hit you to a wall?" "Why hit an unconscious raven into a wall to begin with?" "You weren't unconscious before." said Baldur. "But shouldn't you realize when I wasn't moving in reaction to being hit into a wall?" "You're a very stubborn bird. You brought that on yourself. You didn't answer before, so you not answering after wasn't surprising. Now, the questions are over. If you and I can't come to terms, then I'll save my good food and find myself a new means of letter delivery." "How about this, Rebec kisses me on the beak and allows me to sit on her shoulders like I do with you and without being waved away or knocked off. And you don't have to build me a nest. Okay, maybe a soft blanket to sleep in." Baldur closed his eyes and sighed while shaking his head. After sitting Karsh down, he opened the window for Karsh to fly out of. "Rebec's never kissing you on the beak. At least not for a long long time. If you want her to accept you, however and sit on her shoulder, you'll have to earn that. You can start by apologizing. Nords are slow to trust, even slower to like. You need patience. Otherwise, we part ways." Karsh croaked and then waved his wing for Baldur to lean closer again. "I'll apologize. And hug her." Baldur couldn't have possibly raised his eyebrow any higher than what he did at this moment. Crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes, Baldur said, "Really? You promise?" "But for that I'll have to sit on her shoulder." "Yea, I know. If you're genuine, then maybe I can get her to give a little too. You understand she won't be happy about it at first, right?" "Happy? She isn't always this bitter?" "No, not at all. Why would I be with her if she was a bitter person? She can be rather sweet, but she's also rather stubborn like you, as most Nords are. Which means she'll take longer to get on her good side. You scored huge points with the diamond, and she admitted you weren't so bad and you were useful. Just give her more time. Even if she doesn't like you, she'll respect you. That's just how Nords work." "You said that two times already. And I thought you liked bitter people," said Karsh. "I know, and you messed up the process by being a brat, hence why I have to repeat myself. Now enough talk. Ready to speak to her?" "If you think I'm a brat, then you've never met a southern sparrow. Those little things are insufferable. Now why don't you get your bitter mate. And I bet that other woman have caught on to me speaking." "A lot of southerners are. Guess that extends to birds too." Baldur laughed briefly at that for a second, then said, "Now, let's worry about one Nord woman first. The other is my mother and she's been through a lot. Her...mate. My father was killed. I doubt she suspects you actually talk. No one in their right mind would." Baldur picked Karsh up and seated him on his shoulder, then called out. "Rebec, can you come up here for a second?" There was a long pause, then Rebec leaned around the entranceway. "You two lovebirds all made up?" Baldur bit his lip nervously, then said, "Almost. Karsh wants to apologize to you. It's genuine, I didn't have to promise him food or anything. He just wants you to accept him, but he knows he has to earn that first and he wants to make the first step. Will you let him?" She straightened and regarded the bird skeptically. "Fine. Probably an excuse to peck my eyes out." However, Rebec approached and waited to see what he would do. Karsh waved Rebec a little closer so he could jump over to her shoulder. "I'm sorry I was mean to you for your bird hating, raven pie baking tendecies and all around rudeness to for me being altered by magic." He didn't sound sarcastic, but actually genuinely sincere, but in a wicked childish way. He then strecthed out his wings to hug her, one wing at the back at her head and the other over her face. Being hugged by a talking bird was only half so surreal as being man-handled by Dibellans, though it gave Rebec the same burning need for her personal space. She submitted to the feathered embrace, sneezed, and after she had recovered said, "Fine. I'm sorry I put you in a blanket even if it was Baldur's idea. So deliver our letters and behave yourself and we can all be... friends." The last word came out as if pulled out of her by an anchor chain. "And what about being cold for him being a talking bird, Reb?" asked Baldur, trying his luck. She shot her husband a warning look. Sighing heavily, she said to Karsh, "You can't help it that your master is a crackpot wizard who ought to be putting his time toward better uses. Now... go back to Baldur. Please." "You just need another hug." And he hugged her again like last time. Baldur couldn't help but grin, but he made sure to keep from laughing. "Alright, Karsh. Remember you can't rush these things. I'm proud of you both though. Now come here, please." Karsh jumped back to Baldur's shoulder. "I still want my roasted meat," said Karsh. Rebec nearly choked but didn't say anything. Her eyes, however, said to Baldur: You owe me, Red-Snow. You owe me big.Baldur caught her glance and answered it with a snicker, smiling from ear to ear. Finally some progress was being made. Baldur gathered the blanket and bunched it up for a makeshift raven bed. "That's fine. You earned some roasted meat. Next time you come to visit I'll have that deer soaked in mead like we talked about even though I won. There'll be plenty to go around after all. Here's the letter." Baldur re-sealed the letter with candle wax and placed it by the blanket. "Rest up before you leave." "You might want to wash that before the vomit dries." Karsh said, reluctant to the new bed. "It's already dried. I put it on the other side. Remember what I said. Nord bird, not Imperial." "I didn't know nords were this filthy." He said before he jumped down to the new bed. Baldur wanted to comment on the irony of a raven calling him filthy but decided against it. "We're not, but we are practical. I'll wash it later, but I don't have time to find you new sheets right now. Now rest up. Your next visit will be more pleasant." Baldur now left the study and went back in the hallway with Rebec. "You could burn it," Rebec suggested as Baldur rejoined her. With the bird in it, she thought, but didn't say out of her new commitment to politeness. "You and that bird are more stubborn than boulders." he said after sighing. "But thanks for giving an inch as well." "You make me do crazy things," she said, repeating a familiar refrain. She peered around him towards the sleeping bird. "He's cute. Sometimes." Baldur pointed his finger at Rebec and cried, "Aha! I knew it! You can't fool me!" Rebec batted the finger away. "Sure, sure, you're so clever. Now unless you want me to go pet the skeevers in the sewers and tell them what wonderful little darlings they are, I'm going to bed." Baldur said, "Right behind you, you big softie. Busy couple of days ahead of us."

Skjari/Witchie, Dales Empress's quarters Afternoon Skjari was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, the weather outside was cloudy so the light that came in through the window was soft and grey. In his hand he held a golden ring, it had the shape of two dragons, their tails intertwining at one side and on the other both spew out fire. One was holding the head low while breathing fire upwards, while the other held the head high and breathed downwards. And in the middle of the fiery vortex was a large edged ruby with the general shape of an oval. The dragons themselves had tiny sapphire eyes. It was a delicate ring with the dragons being as detailed as the one on the pommel of Nahkriin. The elbow of the arm he held the ring with was rested at the armrest as he casually looked the ring over. Thinking of an age long forgotten. Dales entered her room, she had just finished a meeting with the east empire company, discussing matters like trade routes and resource management. Her aunt was vice-chair man of the company, meaning Dales had a friend in a very high place. Her aunt, Rullie, had been inviting her to meetings for the past four weeks, showing her the ropes of management. Regardless, she was slightly tired, though no where near the tiredness of how she felt after sparring with Tullius and learning military tactics and strategy. She had literally no free time to herself. Noting the man already sitting in her Quarters, Dales said in a deadpan tone, "What is it, Honey Pumpkin?" "The Eye of Alduin. I forgot I even had this ring." He said thoughtfully, still looking at the ring. She raised her eyebrown, and glanced at the rink he was holding. It was certainly an extremely beautiful piece of Jewerley. "Alduin is the nordic god of desturction, correct?" She asked curiously, "How will that help you?" He tossed it to Dales for her to catch. "Alduin is... or rather was the firstborn of Akatosh, or Bormahu as he was called back then. I guess he is viewed as the god of destruction now because he got furious that he was overthrown. And a dragon's vengeance tends to be quite destructive. But this ring isn't about Alduin. It's only called the Eye of Alduin because of the large oval shaped ruby that ring holds. It was the ring of my predecessor. Or rather, the greatest of them, as there were many kings I had to overthrow in my conquest. It is a ring of royalty." She grabbed the ring in the air in a mere second, her hand eye coronation was already sharp, Witchie's enhancements had made it even better. "Ah, this is the piece of proof you talked about." "Something in that style. Though I probably shouldn't call it the Eye of Alduin to the council or the nobles. Maybe the Eye of Akatosh?" "That wouldn't make any sense. Akatosh is the god of time in the imperial pantheon, not his Noridc counterpart, which is Alduin whom is the god of destruction not time. It wouldn't make sense for an ancient nord necklace to be called "The eye of Akatosh"." "I'm just thinking about the Empire's love for Akatosh and the presumed ignorance of the nobles have of that of old theology. Fire of Kings then? Or maybe just say I forgot it's name." "Fire of kings would do I suppose." Said Dales, pulling out a chair and sitting across her groom to be. "I've also been thinking about when I become emperor, that I should change name. Maybe we should both change the last name, to help dissociate us from the rule of your father." "Change my last name?" Her eyes filling with shock, "That wouldn't be a potent symbol, dear, changing my name to your surname would be taken as you trying to dominate the empire with nordic influence. That wouldn't go well with the politicians." "I said both of us taking a new surname, an imperial one. Not taking mine." "Ah" She started to scratch her chin, "I think we should keep it. Wouldn't do much good, I am of the dynasty of Moitre, changing my surname would be to much of a hassle." "Why is that? Right now we have a lot people thinking of your father whenever they hear Motierre. I bring the name up in a random conversation with a noble and the first thing I often hear is the mentioning of your father and his rule. He seems to have made a deep impression with his Thalmor rule." "But what would me relatives think? They would take it as me isolating my self from my family, which I dont want to do." "Tell them it's only to set us apart from your father. That his influence on your family name makes it harder to rule. Who knows, maybe they'll even join you in the name change. Motierre isn't really a popular name right now." "Fine." She crossed her arms, before her eyes started to sparkle, "Enough about that. How big can the wedding budget be?" "I was thinking of having the wedding during the mage tournament that is in a few months. It's a bit later than what I wanted. But i think that if we invite lots of merchants and add a fair into it, we could generate some taxes to pay for the wedding from it. Would also help with the city wide festivity I want for the wedding. Pity Lorgar hid his funds." "Yes, yes." She wasn't paying attention, "I was thinking...maybe you can let me plan it?" "Sure. If you payed attention to what I just said." He said almost cynically. "Something about Mages, merchants, and mister Grim-maw." "I suggested we have the wedding at the mage tournament and add a fair. To get more taxes to help pay for the wedding. Also to help with the citywide festivity I had in mind. And for that Lorgar's funds that he hid would have been useful." He drew a light sigh. "Now if just take those things into consideration, I'll gladly let you plan the wedding. Just no akaviri." "No Akavairi." She said, a tad bit dissapoited but still cheerful, Alduin only knows what was going threw her feminine mind. "What is so important to think of right now? You seem to value your own thoughts more than this discussion." "Nothing, honey..." She said giggling. She made her way to the doorway. "May I be excused?" "What?" He said, sounding and looking quite confused. "It's nothing dont worry. I'll see you later, I still have quite a few things to do now." "Can I at least get my ring back?" He stretched out his left hand to Dales. She tossed the golden ring in Witchie's direction, and hurried away from the room.

Gracchus, Theodore, Darius Skingrad Evening A long day of travel behind them, the group rode just outside the city of Skingrad, the large towers of the mighty castle looming above them. Several guards stood in front of the well lit bridge, asking for identification. Once that was out of the way, the group dismounted, with all eight of the guards staying behind with the horses, while Gracchus and Theodore strode across the bridge towards the castle. Once reaching the large gate, it swung open, and the two walked into the great hall. Gracchus, dressed as of he were a simple middle class merchant or shop owner, felt somewhat out of place inside the world of fine silks, furs, and rugs. Theodore ok the other hand had dressed less modestly, his green collared shirt embroidered with gold trim marching the buttons was complimented by his brown pants and cape. At both's sides hung swords, Gracchus' the cavalry sword from Eduard that didn't really match the simple outfit, while Theodore had a gold trimmed quicksilver blade, one mean to be used in a one handed fashion, which he was also trained to use. The travelers continued toward the throne, anticipating Darius may not be there because of the lateness of their call. ** Darius was bent over a book on the desk in his study. It was an old tome of minor importance. Just the family tree of some Colovian nobility that had died out when they chose to oppose Tiber Septim's rise to power. "Sir, the visitors you said to expect are in the Great Hall." He just nodded as the servant put her head through the door. Visitors, at this hour? If he hadn't heard that it was one of the most powerful men in High Rock, he'd have ignored them. However, as inconsequential as Lord Adard might be in the long term, as the Count, he still had some formalities to uphold. Closing the book shut with a shift movement, he started to make his way towards the door. ** Theodore stood waiting, more just wanting to get the formal "How do you do's" out of the way so they could sleep. Gracchus was feeling the same way, worn out and tired and just hoping he could find a soft bed to fall asleep in. Theodore placed a large, chunky hand on the general's shoulder, and chuckled a little. "I'm sure Count Bathory doesn't really appreciate us arriving at this hour, but he'll understand when you state our business. Of course, that's assuming he doesn't already know, which of course I'm sure he does. We aren't exactly an inconspicuous group, you and I." Gracchus laughed softly back. "Hopefully the count wasn't asleep or eating at the time, that would be a shame." "I wish I was eating," Theodore mumbled. "Then you should have asked any of my servants, who would have started to prepare a meal by now," from the top of the stairs leading into the main hall Darius spoke to them. His tone didn't reflect any annoyance with their presence, but, despite the light tone in which he spoke, he wasn't overly friendly. With quick steps, he made his way down to them. "General," he nodded to Gracchus, but otherwise seemed to ignore him, turning his attention to the Breton, reaching out a hand. "Lord Adard. I had expected you over and hour ago." Gracchus nodded back, then turned to watch the conversation. Theodore returned the handshake, and frowned. "We would have, but we saw a very unfortunate sight. Apparently someone took it upon themselves to hang a poor elf, of what kind I'm not sure. He was too mutilated to tell. We, and by we I mean Gracchus, elected to bury him, so we dug a small grave. I had hoped the anti-elf sentiment was exclusive to Cheyiindal and Bravil." With a raised eyebrow, Darius let go of the man's hand. "An elf was hanged? I'd probably get that report in the morning from the guard captain then. This is news to me, but I can't say I am surprised. Skingrad may be doing well enough for itself, but we were still at the front lines of the last war with the Dominion. Someone carrying hatred is to be expected. Still, a sad affair. I'll see if I can spare the men to look into the situation, in the morning." He gestured for them to follow him, into a smaller hall with a table with food set ready for them. Nothing overly fancy, just high quality Colovian fare. Darius refused to use exotic and expensive food beyond the necessary to impress people. They were in Colovia, so domestic was on the menu. And it was a shallow pretense. Anyone who constantly had to reinforce their importance in the eyes of others were in danger of losing it. Darius was not one of those people. "Please, take a seat. Some of the food might have grown a little cold, but, as I said, I expected you an hour ago," he took a seat at the and of the table. Two other chairs, one on each of Darius' sides, stood empty. Gracchus took the left seat, while Theodore took the right. Gracchus picked apart his food slowly, not very hungry. Theodore, while not engulfing his food, ate a bit more quickly than the general. Theodore, once he had his fill, wiped his face with a napkin and leaned back. "The body was at a group of trees a few miles out. We marked it with a loose road stone," Gracchus said, who was waiting for his companion to finish eating before talking. "I see. Now that the pleasantries are done with," Darius nodded for a moment, looking distantly into the wall on the opposite end of the hall. However, once he had mentioned the pleasantries, he set his eyes in Theodore again. "Could you tell me why you are here? One doesn't visit the castle to talk to the Count just to convey the news of someone being hanged in the wilderness." Theodore covered his mouth with the napkin and coughed, resuming his sitting straight pose he had adopted while eating. "Honestly, I decided to accompany the dear general as he headed to Hammerfell. Business dictates I head home, so we decided it was safer to travel together. And we were going to stay Skingrad, so I figured I'd check up on my old pal Darius," Theodore laughed a little, then cleared his throat. "Why, we didn't bother you did we?" "Not anymore than any other visitor here would. I'm expected to work at all hours, leading this city," the Count's eyebrow raised slightly, and only for a second or so, when Theodore called him his old pal. How dull, playing at nostalgia with so shoddy cards. "You will have to forgive my suspicion, but these are troubling times, and unquestionably accepting your stated intentions is a dangerous thing to do." "Of course, I also wanted to know if you had any information, such as rumors, since we left the Imperial City. And I would like to discuss something...else as well," Theodore raised his eyebrows, hoping Gracchus would catch his drift. He did, in fact, and Gracchus rose, straightening his tunic. "Thank you for the food, Count Bathory, but I think I'll leave you two alone. Would you mind if I checked out your library? I'm sure you have an excellent selection, and I've been sorely missing my personal library," he said. "Siver? Show my guest to the main library," at Darius' call, a young man who looked to be of Nibenese descent walked into the room, bowing and looking expectantly at Theodore for a moment. When it was Gracchus who apparently was the one who was meant to follow him, he seemed confused for a moment. "Now," Darius watched Gracchus leave before he turned back to Theodore. "I hope this is more important than what you've brought up thus far." Gracchus followed the servant, and found himself in a good sized library. He sat down on a leather couch and began reading a selection on the military history of the Empire. Theodore waited a few seconds until Gracchus was out of earshot, and said, "What do you know of Jon Hard-Heart? Also, Dales wishes to marry my son. Overall, I fear the Empire isn't in a good state, and I don't want my son beheaded by some usurper if Dales is overthrown." "Jon Hard-Heart?" Darius seemed surprised. He wasn't, but he had his reasons to act like he was. "What about him? He's a former Legion General and now he has targeted the Council, along with the High General and the Empress. "I met him, right before we left the Imperial City, and he seemed...suspicious. I don't know if I trust him, a man with a thousand troops at his disposal and a political agenda, especially one in such an unstable environment like the Imperial City," Theodore said, noting the surprised sounding tone of Darius' voice. "And I would describe you the same way. And myself. And most other nobles of Cyrodiil. I met him once, before the Empress' father came to power. He seemed like a genuine enough man to me, given the standard for such things in this broken Empire." It was true, what he said. Darius' meeting with General Hard-Heart had been a refreshing experience in that regard. Of course, no man was ever truly selfless, but nothing he could read from the man had suggested a desire for power beyond what he already had. And Darius was rarely wrong. Theodore stroked his mustache, the chocolate brown handlebar curling slightly on the ends. "I trust your judgment, especially since you know him better than I. What about the marriage? My son, in my biased eyes of course, would make a good royal consort but I fear placing him in such an unstable environment is a sure fire way to assure his death." ** Meanwhile Gracchus sat in the library, calmly reading about a minor bandit war that was of little consequence to the Empire. ** "My thoughts? Stay away from the Ruby Throne, focus on High Rock and make your son play a game he cannot hope to win. Perhaps not what you wanted to hear, but I want you to consider it. If you value your son's life, keep him in High Rock. If I could, without severe political backlash, I would keep my daughter out of the White-Gold as well. I... share your concern. She survived the transition from Amaund to his daughter, I cannot expect to be that lucky again." "Luck...it plays such a part in this game, and is one factor we can't control. Thank you, for the advice. I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to talk to someone who understands the situation more than I, which limits the number of people I can talk to." "As the historians tell it..." As I saw, lived and experienced it. "... there was a time when playing the game in the White-Gold was worth the risk. The Empire was largely stable, with some minor insurrections, but you'd be allowed to live if you lost. Now? Cyrodiil's become little more than a kingdom desperately struggling to not kill itself, while the two heads and the arms struggle for dominance, unwary of where it puts its feet. There is a reason I never had any aspirations on the Elder Council, despite the many recommendations from others. I don't think anything short of another Dragonborn stepping up can save Cyrodiil from itself." "Which is why I've been considering...that maybe the safest route would be to follow the lead of Hammerfell and Skyrim. I know when we talked last you mentioned you thought that the group who wanted independence wasn't as bad as I saw them, and I've been thinking over it. Maybe they are right, and the Empire is beyond our help." "Not a popular position among what people would consider my peers..." I only have one equal, and he is not a noble. "... but the signs are all here. We've had three different rulers on the Ruby Throne in a very short time, we've lost almost all provinces and we can't keep control of our own lands. Cheydinhal is outright challenging the Throne at this point. Everyone who think they are something are so afraid what this Hard-Heart plans to do, and our Empress seems to be bipolar the way she changes in behavior. Not long ago she was no one of worth in the political landscape, acting the buffoon. Now she has changed to a more serious tone, after having spent most of her reign sleeping around with the maids. That Cyrodiil is still standing is something of a miracle." "And I'm afraid the number of miracles granted per person are sorely limited. Thank you for you time, Darius, I greatly appreciate the advice. Unless there's something you wish to discuss, I'll go get Gracchus and we can both be on our way." "I would like to know a more detailed impression of Hard-Heart, on your end," Darius gave him a smile. Not friendly, but respectful. "It has been a few years since I met him, and my perception is hardly perfect." Theodore returned the smile, and began remembering his conversation with the general. "Well, he offered to teach my son, but I got the feeling it was more to use him to further his one gains than out of the generosity of his own heart. He seemed to come out of nowhere, right as the Empire is at its weakest, and wants to do away with the Elder Council, which limits the power of the Emperor. If I was the conspiracy type, I could say he was ridding the Empire of the Council so it would make it easier to make his own move. The concept is noble, but I don't trust the motive." "And your own motives for suggesting Roland as the royal consort?" A devious little smile spread on Darius' lips. Theodore smirked, and chuckle a little. "Would you miss the chance your child to breed the next generation of emperor? Of course, the prospect isn't as enticing as it was before." "A rather selfish motive, don't you think? Which was my point. I hate to say this, Lord Adard, but your condemning of Hard-Heart is rather hypocritical." Theodore laughed, long and heartily. "I'm being quite foolish aren't I? Worrying over nothing, being scared of my own reflection. But I still don't think I'll let Roland come here, too dangerous, too unpredictable." "Very much so," Darius returned the laughter, though it was more controlled and directed. "Keep Roland in High Rock, secure your kingdom from the failing structure. But... mind the Dominion. You will need to gain access to Colovia one way or another when it comes to it. If Cyrodiil falls, things will be grim indeed. If you give me your word for future support, I'll do what I can to return the favor." "You have my support, Count Bathory, and I hope I can count on you to help move my troops, if I need to in the future. And I will be wary of the Dominion, as we all should be in these times. Again, I thank you." "Don't thank me, I've yet to do anything for you." Count Bathory got to his feet, offering his hand to Lord Adard once again. "If you see my son, tell him I want a word with him. Now, I must take my leave. I have duties to attend, as I'm sure you understand." Theodore shook the count's hand, then headed toward the library. There he found Gracchus deep in the tome, so much so he almost didn't notice Theodore arriving. "Ah, I assume its time to leave then? A pity, I was almost done with the chapter on minor border conflicts." "Maybe we can find the book somewhere else. It seems to be a fairly large book, one I'd not heard of." Gracchus placed it back on the shelf where he got it, then he and Theodore headed back outside. They picked up their horses and men, and rode into the city, where they got four rooms at the West Weald Inn.

Jon Hard-Heart, Magdela Bathory Wavnet Inn Evening Towards midmorning a messenger arrives at the encampment of soldiers once known as Jon Hard-Heart's legion. It is for the former general himself, and the messenger waits for a reply. In precise, feminine script is written: Favor me with that dinner, sir, if you please. Sunset, Wawnet Inn at Weye. Magdela Bathory ** The sun was about to set, casting its light over Lake Rumare, almost red in the reflection. It wasn't the first time he had seen this lake with a red color, but the last time it was more than an optical illusion brought by the sunlight. The Great War. He could still see the High Elf standing above him with his blade aimed at his throat, only to fall over him, dead. Brunwulf and Skardan Free-Winter had helped him back on his feet. The door to the inn swung open before him and he immediately took to the right. Jon was still dressed in his Legion armor, but he had made sure to get a haircut and shave before turning up. He still had long hair, just less messy. True to her dictum, the lady was late, though her nightblade had been watching the little fishing village for several hours in his guise as a day tripper from the city. There was no sign of an ambush, and so he sent a boy running to tell Maggie that it was safe. Not long afterward she rode across the bridge with two royal guardsmen flanking her. On her order, they waited outside the inn while she entered. Maggie glanced to where the general sat, but first spoke with the Altmer proprietor about their dinner. When she was satisfied, she approached Jon's table. Her attire was modest, a dress of burgundy velvet in the Colovian style. Smiling, she waited to be invited to sit. "General, a pleasure. Forgive the rustic setting, but I thought something removed from the city would be more comfortable." "I'm sure," Jon smiled, gesturing her to take a seat. He had taken a seat in the corner, from where he could see every other table. "I was surprised when I got your note, I hadn't expected you to follow up on the suggestion." Maggie took her seat. "I think it important." She was interrupted by the innkeeper, who brought a bottle of wine and poured a small amount, handing the glass to her for a tasting. At her nod, the Altmer poured two glasses and left the bottle. "For a fishing village, this inn has a remarkable wine cellar. To our country's fragile peace." Lifting her glass, Maggie waited, wondering if the soldier would consent to such a toast. Jon lifted his glass as well, but didn't take a sip before the wine had crossed Magdela's lips. "Yes, to the fragile peace. May it rot in Oblivion." Maggie lifted a brow, and took a sip. "And why is that?" Lowering his glass, Jon looked out over the rest of the inn for a moment. he could have sworn the High Elf had been listening in on them, but now he had turned away. Returning his eyes to Magdela, he answered with a hint of humor in his tone. "Because I want this conflict with the Dominion to just over with already. Nothing like the calm before the storm to get on a soldier's nerves." "I see. I do not hurry the war myself. My hope is that the Dominion would be weak enough at home that it would decide not to fight, and we might have another treaty. A real one this time, not the false Concordat." "I doubt there won't be another war. The question is when. Maybe I have to live with this suspense for the rest of my life. But," Jon felt that he probably shouldn't push his own view, given who he was talking to. "I can understand the hesitation on your end. If my home was on the frontline, I might be more cautious myself." The Altmer appeared at the table again, this time with two plates of food. There wasn't much in the way of preparation needed, because you got whatever the inn had, which was whatever had come out of Lake Rumare that day. In this case, slaughterfish steaks with pepper and a side of fried potatoes. Maggie picked delicately at the fish and gestured with her fork. "It is simple fare, but one can't fault the freshness." She was silent a while to let the general eat, then went on, "Not to spoil our appetites with an unpleasant topic, but your life could be over sooner than you think. You must be aware of the danger, yes?" "I live by the sword and I can expect to see Sovngarde if I die with a blade in my hand. Death is not a topic that would spoil my appetite.Then again, maybe I should have said it would. Reinforcing common stereotypes about my people and all," Jon responded with a smile. "But yes, I know the danger I'm in. I don't expect to live out the year." "And does Sovngarde come for those who die on the block as well?" Her tone was genuinely curious. "Who knows? I've never been in either place. Only Shor could answer that question and he isn't the talkative sort." "Ah. Well, as with the war, there is nothing inevitable here. You might even be restored to your command- your official command, that is- or such is my hope. I wonder, though, what you hoped to accomplish in berating our young empress and suggesting that you had some plan which would put her rule in jeopardy." "Well, I'd say you were well informed, but I'd be lying. Offending the Empress was not the purpose of the meeting. I wanted to discuss Skyrim with her. Felt good though, telling her that not everyone are interested in kissing her royal ass," there was a twinkle in Jon's eye when he said the past part. "But what is this talk about jeopardy? I mean, trying to do something about the Council is dangerous, but that's also the only threat to her position in my plans. What is this other thing causing that?" "Addressing the state of the Council is not a typical duty of legion commander. Don't be sly with me, Jon Hard-Heart. You have aspirations, or else you are a fool, and I doubt you are the latter." Maggie sipped at her wine, more interested in that than the food. "And what makes you think I'm not a fool?" Jon gave her a smile. Strange how effective this little plan of his was on the perception of others. He had to watch his words though. No telling what Magdela Bathory could read from them. "I ask myself if I am one often." "You blackened Amaund Motierre's eye and lived to tell the tale with most of your army intact," Maggie answered, as if the answer ought to be obvious. "But we are all susceptible to pride, the moreso after a success, and pride turns wise men into fools. I ask again, what you thought you might accomplish with your confrontation of the empress. Other than 'feeling good,' as you confess." Her manner is stern, but not unfriendly, and still curious. "My dear, if I told you, I'd have to kill you," he looked at her for a moment, dead serious. Then he laughed. "I'm joking, of course. If you want to know the truth, I lost patience with her. Flawed man and all of that. I wanted to discuss Skyrim, as I said, but I guess it didn't go as planned." "Mm." She sounded thoughtful, and skeptical. There was a silence while Maggie took a few bites of fish. Without looking up, she went on, "Generals do not move on the battlefield without a plan. You have been removed from command now, but remain here. Why? Did you not wish to return to Skyrim?" "I would love to hear what my genius plan is, if you'd be so kind as to share it with me," there was a very slight hint of sarcasm in his tone, but it changed quickly. "No, that wasn't what I wanted to say. I'm sorry, but I'm confused. What are you trying to imply? If you're going ask me to not be sly, I think you should lead by example." "I see you aren't answering my question. You mention often that Cyrodiil is not your home. It is a logical question, then, why you remain here." Maggie looked up. Her manner is sober, but still friendly. "Perhaps you think because I am a woman, a concubine as you put it, that I have no mind for such matters. There is an old saying, Hard-Heart. 'When you strike at a king, you must kill him.' I simply wonder why it is that you would put yourself at odds with the one who turned over the Concordat and threw the Thalmor out of Cyrodiil. Isn't that why you and your men deserted Amaund's command in the first place?" "We've met once, and you say I often talk about Cyrodiil not being my home? Aren't you jumping to conclusions, my dear?" By now Jon had raised an eyebrow. While not as pleasant as he had suspected the Countess to try to be, he couldn't complain about this evening. It was fun, perhaps a bit too fun, to hear what she had to say on the matter. Still, dangerous. "But I think I got my answer. You think I'm after the Ruby Throne." "Are you?" "Would you believe me if I said no? I do't think you will, but I'm going to say it anyway," Jon smiled again. "I'm not interested in the Ruby Throne. I have less selfish plans than that, if you can believe it." "It would not be selfish, if you believed the current occupant incapable," Maggie pointed out. She paused, picked up her glass, and gestured at him with it. "But perhaps we can return to that later. Tell me more about yourself, commander. Have you family still living, in Skyrim perhaps?" "Perhaps it wouldn't be, but the throne is still not something I want," he followed her lead and took a sip of wine himself. The fish was untouched; food wasn't on his mind at all. Nor was he hungry, he had eaten before he got there. "But I'll gladly change the topic for a while. Not much in the line of family. Been without since I left home to join the Legion back in the Great War. I'm really not that interesting, my dear. Just a soldier. Well, soldier who became a general, but you get the idea." "None in Morrowind?" Maggie's tone was casual, but she studied his reaction. "Unless there is a bastard child from my younger days, right after the war, I don't think so," Jon tried to keep a casual tone. He didn't think he sounded to evasive, but he still got the feeling he had missed the touch that made it genuine. Her smile was gentle, indulgent. "You traveled in Morrowind, then? I should like to hear of your adventures. I'm a collector of stories." "A few times, when I was on leave from the Legion. Visited Blacklight a few times. Most Nords and Dunmer don't seem to get along, given our people's history, but I got friends there. Well, friends of House Redoran, if nothing else," Jon's shoulders lowered a little bit, but it went unnoticed by the Nord himself. "They're good warriors, grave and dutiful. I think the Redoran and my people would have gotten along better than most, if not for our past. Better than most Men and Elves, anyway." He took another sip of wine. "I remember traveling into the ashlands onc- okay, three times. Nasty place. Few creatures, but breathing got hard after a while. Luckily, the group I traveled with knew where they were going. First time was to some old tomb, retrieving an old helmet. I think they called it a Redoran Master Helm. Fought things called Bonelords and Bonewalkers. Seems like a mirror to the Draugr of Skyrim, guarding the tombs." "You did this as a favor to your friends in House Redoran, or were you working as a mercenary?" "A mix of both, I'd say. It was mercenary work, but it was me having friends in House Redoran that got me into these contracts. They asked me if I wanted a share, and I said yes." "I see. Continue. Did you retrieve the Master Helm of Redoran? And, is it still called the ashlands? I should think that all of Morrowind might be called that after what happened there, sad as it is. I have never been there myself, however." "Yes, we did. Wasn't too hard, we had several experienced fighters in the group," Jon took another sip, glancing out over the rest of the inn. There were very few others there, except the innkeeper. "Vvardenfell is mostly ash, but there are still many places in Morrowind that are untouched, or perhaps cleared from, the ash. And there are cities within the ashlands, protected by impressive feats of craftsmanship. Redoran's house styles also help." "You spoke of bastards. Have you had no thought to marry?" "No, never. I don't know if I have bastards, it's just a possibility." "And what made you choose to leave Morrowind and return to the legion?" "I never left the Legion, I was on leave. Soldiers get to do that, occasionally, and I used my time off to travel. Had to arrange it with my superiors though." "A fighting vacation." Maggie seemed amused, though with Samuel's information and the general's subtle cues, there was obviously more to Morrowind than an adventure holiday. "Tell me about House Redoran, then. I've met few so well acquainted with its inner workings since it parted ways with the empire, or vice versa I suppose. Do they have an interest in the conflict with the Dominion?" "I don't know, I only have friends there. Not inside political information on the House itself. I'm pretty sure they are content with keeping Morrowind free of foreign governments direct influence," Jon shrugged. "I know they are the strongest House in Morrowind though. Run by a council and an Archmaster. A bit like the Empire in the structure." "Yes, they had a sophisticated government before there was en empire. Not that it stopped us from interfering." She smiled a little and asked, "No siblings?" Jon just shrugged again, but didn't say anything. He took a sip of wine though, and looked out over the rest of the inn again. As he had thought, dangerous. Magdela seemed to have picked up on something he said, or maybe how he said it. Maggie watched him, then said with a little smile, "I've got two myself, and that is two more than I could get by with. Ah, well. Families are complicated. Perhaps that's why you prefer to think of the legion as family." "Yeah, I know what-," Jon stopped himself, playng it off like he had formulated what he was going to say the wrong way. "The bonds of sweat are stronger than those of blood, or so is the saying. Tell me about your family. How was it like growing up nobility?" "Pampered and dull compared to yours, I'm sure. Not as luxurious as you might expect, however. My family is rich and powerful, but we were taught to value hard work and the values of the common man. You thought I was putting on airs when I spoke of the virtues of the Nords, at our first meeting. On the contrary." "I'm sure." This again? Jon felt an urge to roll his eyes. Coming from Maggie, the comments on the Colovians looking to Skyrim and the Nord's virtues did one thing; convince him it was a cheap trick to gain approval from him in a time when such a thing might become important, without going personal enough to make it risky. She was hardly the image of a Colovian looking to Skyrim, and as far as he knew, that could be said about just about every other ruler like her. The Colovians may have looked to the Nords once upon a time, but that was a long time in the past. It took no special skill to read the soldier's annoyance. Smiling, she said, "Fine, disbelieve it as you will. You asked about my family and I told you of our mindset. You have hardly been forthcoming about your own relations." Maggie paused for effect, then went on, "Yet for the conversation, I thank you. I cannot expect you to trust me. I'm not entirely sure why you accepted my invitation." "What does my own past really matter? The only thing that ever put me in the political landscape on a notable scale was my sudden reappearance in the Empire. What would my 'relations', as you describe them, matter?" He felt a pinch of guilt though. He hadn't been treating her fair this evening. "I don't know why I accepted. Perhaps I was tired of only being around soldiers?" "I seek to understand you. You may believe my motives to be selfish or less than honest, and I will not pretend otherwise. Yet I do admire you. You and your men stood up to Amaund when few others were willing. The best I can say for myself is that I endured him." "Admire?" Jon chuckled, more friendly than he had been in the past few minutes. "What is it to admire about what I did, hiding in the mountains and watching the situation as best we could? I may not have accepted Amaund's rule, but..." His sentence just trailed off, into nothing. A moment of silence or so went by. "Enduring him is more admirable." Maggie's brow lifted. "Is that a compliment, Jon Hard-Heart?" "Yes, I suppose it was." "Beware, you will betray your moniker." Maggie laughed and finished her wine, then poured more for herself and topped off Jon's glass as well. The innkeeper came to collect their plates, huffing in annoyance when he saw the uneaten food. Maggie ignored that and ordered some fresh fruit and cheese, then turned back to the general. "How did you get your moniker, while we're on the subject?" "Clan- well, family name, I suppose it would be here in the south. My parents and grandparents and so on and so forth were all named Hard-Heart. Like the Battle-Borns or the Grey-Manes of Whiterun. Most people don't have a family name, but there are always a clan or three in a community that does." "I see. And does it fit you well, would you say?" "I think you'll give a better answer to that than I could," he smiled. "I'm a little biased." "From what I can see, it seems apt but incomplete." She paused while the innkeeper set out a plate of sliced apples, grapes and Colovian cheese. When the Altmer was out of earshot once more, she said, "Tell me, before we return to the unpleasantness of present circumstances, how do your men fare? You must have all lived very rough in your exile. Is there anything I can do for their well-being?" "We didn't starve, and for most the cold wasn't horrible. Most of the ones willing to follow me were my kinsmen. We didn't live in surplus, but you get the idea. And now we have enough food to make it without worrying. And I'm working out some merchant connections. I guess my recent activities has made me some friends, and not only enemies." Jon folded his hands on front of him, taking a deep breath. "Thank you though, the gesture is... very kind." Maggie nodded once. "To the crux of the matter, then. As I see our present situation, at best you can expect to be exiled and your men, those who are still loyal to the legion, distributed among other commands. At worst..." She shrugged one shoulder. "You and your close associates will be imprisoned on suspicion of treason, and likely executed, as warning and example if for no other reason. You will think it flattery, perhaps, but I would find that a great tragedy. We need men like you more than ever. I mean not only the empire, but all of Tamriel. Let me implore you then." Her tone was very sincere, in fact pleading. "Come back to the city and swear fealty to the empress and her court, on your honor as a Nord and legionnaire. Give up these ambitions of reforming the Elder Council to your own personal expectations. If you do, I will try my utmost to see that your life is spared and that you remain in the legion, though likely demoted. My counsel to Skjari and the empress will be that you have done us a favor, by reminding us of the fragility of the current peace. Will you do this?" "Skjari, the court mage? So he is the puppetmaster after all," Jon laughed to himself, quietly and barely letting the sound pass by his lips. "And he intends to kill me. Flattery indeed. But make no mistake, Magdela," he became more serious, leaning in towards the table. "I have no intentions of returning to the Legion. I left the Legion when I turned down Amaund's leadership, because I think I can do more good without the obligation to follow every whim of the Ruby Throne. Have you ever heard of the Syffim?" "Then you made false pretenses, when you crossed the Ring Road and were given back command of the First," Maggie replied, sounding disappointed. "The Syffim. A scheme of the Akaviri intended to establish an army within our armies, upon which they could call when they had had enough of groveling. Their scheme has served the empire well, while they are dead and gone." Her tone now is deadpan. "I've enjoyed myself too much tonight, it seems," Jon let out a slight sigh. "Or perhaps I never had a chance in keeping you out of my head. Doesn't matter, you'd have an idea of my plans by now, though inaccurate. I suppose terms is the next topic on the list." "Very well. I was taught that diplomacy begins with listening." She waited for him to go on, though took a moment to glance at a fisherman patron who had wandered too close, attracted by either curiosity or the sight of a pretty woman or both. At her look, the man stopped, stiffened, and turned away, suddenly more interested in the cobwebs than a glimpse of shapely leg. Maggie returned her attention to Jon. "I suppose it does," he shook his head. Beware the Bathory family indeed. Was this what Samuel had meant? "My plan is nothing spectacular. Create enough instability in Cyrodiil to allow some room to move for me to move in, then undermine control of the Imperial City in key-locations, namely Bruma and Chorrol. The Council was always my target, in a different way. Keep their control away from the north." Maggie was surprised, and impressed, at his candor- if it was candor. She had to consider that this was the feint. "To what end? Are you Stormcloak in sympathy after all?" "In the sense that I hope to be accepted in their army after my role has been played in Cyrodiil," Jon smiled again, looking at her. "But I don't want the Stormcloaks to gain control over Cyrodiil. They'd spread themselves thin trying to hold that, which wouldn't do anyone any good. But they are an integral part of my plans. The whole reason for getting Bruma and Chorrol is Pale Pass and access to southern Cyrodiil. The conflict with the Dominion will come, sooner or later. Cyrodiil can't stand alone, but I don't trust the leaders in the White-Gold to do the right thing. Too much recent bad blood with Skyrim, too much fear for what Ulfric might do if given access to Cyrodiil. And they might be right." "You are aware that the men who hold Bruma now were with the empress, then princess, in Skyrim. They were a part of her turning against the Dominion army which- and now I must be indelicate, Jon, if I may call you that- which you let march past you into Skyrim without lifting a finger. Why should Bruma trust you any more than White Gold does? Because of fellow Nord feeling? Skjari also is a Nord." "Because I have General Tullius on my side." "Tullius?" That was a genuine revelation, the first real one of the evening. "The man who fought tirelessly to keep Skyrim under the control of White Gold would now split northern Cyrodiil from her. How.." Hypocritical. "...surprising. With what coin did you buy his allegiance?" "Split Cyrodiil? No, not my plan. If I have it my way, Bruma and Chorrol will remain client kingdoms of the Imperial City, but removed from the direct control of the White-Gold. But I think it is time to discuss those terms, Magdela." Jon emptied his glass. "I want you to stay out of my plans. In return, I stay out of yours." "You are mincing words. White Gold will not tolerate the independent actions of the counties, or establishment of mercenary armies within Cyrodiil's borders who swear no allegiance to its leaders. That is suicide, for all of us. As for 'my plans,' I am not certain to what you refer." "What are they going to do about me, when there are riots in the south and Cheydinhal threatening the throne? The Legion is spread thin as it is. I don't even intend to part the counties away from the White-Gold, just change some details. And it is not like people are going to find out before it is too late, one way or another. Either you turn me in, and Tullius' part in this will be known, effectively doing more harm to Cyrodiil than my plans, or you leave me alone and let my plans stay a secret, letting me attempt to win this failing Empire some allies in the future, whether it likes it or not." Jon tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. 1, 2, 3, 4... 1... 2... 3... 4. "I don't know what your plans are, and I don't care. I doubt you are at the White-Gold just to entertain the nobles there, you're much to bright for that. But I'm not interested in that, at all. I am concerned with the coming conflict with the Dominion. And your home will be on the front lines. If you want a topic for a book, try to romanticize my plans. 'Rogue General defying the Emperor to win allies to save the woman he loves and her home'. I think the theme would sell, though you'll have to come up with the title yourself. I'm not much of an author." "Win allies where? Cyrodiil has an alliance with Skyrim already, one which Skjari and Dales personally made, and as we've established, Bruma is installed with those who have their positions because Dales gave them power." Maggie seemed genuinely confused, and impatient. "You have not as yet committed treason, and your goals are aligned to those of White Gold, the very thing you sought to secure by defying Amaund. You may try to fool yourself into thinking you are doing something noble, but this sounds to me very foolish and, contrary to what you told me earlier, more about your ego than the good of Tamriel. I ask you again to reconsider. It is not too late. I am less inclined to risk my own position to aid you than I was an hour ago, but I will still keep to the bargain I offered. It is a generous one." "Hmph. I don't care for the White-Gold," Jon's fingers continued to tap at the table, in a slower pace. "But do go on. Convince me that this bargain is anything more than an attempt to put a leash on me, to put me in a position where you and the White-Gold can control me." "If you remain, then you do remain under a leash, if that is how you choose to see it. The best I can hope to secure for you is a chance to bow your knee and, with luck, rise to your feet with your head still on your neck. Then perhaps the chance to fight as a lower field officer, since you say that what you really care about is to oppose the Dominion. I confess I begin to doubt even that. Your words strike me as those of the meaner sort of ambitious man who uses chaos to profit himself." "At least you're honest about that," he chuckled. Not what he had expected, that much honesty. Didn't matter. "It is your move, Miss Bathory. Turn me in, ignore me or help me. And do consider the cost of having Tullius discovered as a co-conspirator in this scheme of mine. Would be a shame to create such a rift, between the White-Gold and the Legion. What would the Legions think, if he was charged with treason, for trying to help Cyrodiil the way he thought best? Or even better; what would the ambitious officers of the Legion think if he wasn't?" Jon gave her a wink and got to his feet, leaving a small purse of coins at the table. It should contain enough to pay for the food, he thought, but before he walked away, he leaned in towards Magdela once more. "And I guess I owe you an answer for an earlier question; I have a brother, living in Blacklight. He's the one I've been visiting the times I was there, running the occasional Redoran contract. Hell of a fighter too. Always beat me handily when sparing. If you're ever there, ask for Radd Hard-Heart. He's named after our great-grandfather." With a final bow, he headed to the door. Very risky, Miss Bathory was hard to predict, but he hadn't had much choice after she had gotten an idea of his plan. Where had he gone wrong? Easy enough to answer, in retrospect; he accepted the invitation. His gamble rested on the assumption that she'd be able to detect it if he lied. If she couldn't, she could easily think he was bluffing. With a sigh he turned to the path that would lead him to his camp. Tomorrow he'd be getting a visit from a potential client, if this Samuel guy was to be trusted. Some man responsible for security on the East Empire Company. Hopefully he'd take some of his troops away. His plan didn't need all the forces he had, so spreading them out would allow him to appear less o a threat. And helping the Company wouldn't look bad either. Maggie watched Hard-Heart leave without further comment. She had no authority to arrest him, and for all she knew Skjari had already sent men to his camp to apprehend him. On the way out, she stopped at the table of the old fisherman who had been ogling her earlier. He glanced anxiously at her, but she only smiled. "Good evening, grandfather. I'm afraid my companion and I had little appetite tonight. There is some wine and cheese on our table, and it should not go to waste. Help yourself." She laid a hand on the man's arm. His anxiety melted, and she suddenly seemed to him the most beautiful woman he'd seen in his long years. "I w- w- will... Miss..." "Bathory. My name is Bathory." She thanked the innkeeper as she left, then rejoined her guards outside. The disguised nightblade waited by the bridge into the city. "Follow Mr. Hard-Heart, if you please," Maggie told him. "See that he returns to his camp, then report to me. Take care that you are not spotted by his sentries." She herself returned to the palace, with speed. ** Darius, Lucienus Skingrad Night He looked into the dark. Where was he? He had specified being there before him. A glance at the sky told him that he had arrived at least an hour earlier than expected, the time betrayed by the moon and the stars. The count waiting for someone in an alley in his own city? Darius shook his head. But... it was necessary. This recent attempt at taking Samuel's life could mean that someone had infiltrated his court or inner circle. Tomorrow he would arrive though the city gates, but tonight he was a shadow. Where was Luceinus? "You called Darius?" whispered a silent voice. A figure could be seen in the alleyway, but only the vampire's night vision could illuminate his features. He was hooded and cloaked, and wore black/red leather armor underneath, along with a cowl and scarf. It was Lucienus Valerius. Darius looked at him for a moment, with his eyebrow raised. The inane questions some would ask at times. Obviously he had called him if he showed up at the meeting place. Without acknowledging the question any further, he held out a small envelope. "Your mission is to find out who sent the assassin after the Demon." Without another word, Lucnienus began to open the envelope, and took out the document inside. Mission briefing. He read through it in a breeze, before double checking and triple checking. He scratched his chin when he was finished, and chuckled softly, a rare display of emotion. "I see the Demon of a Thousand Face's enemies are actually catching up to him. My, my..." He looked at the older vampire, and continued. "I assume, Darius, that you suspect your precious order has a traitor among it's ranks and has been compromised, and this traitor sent someone after your eyes and ears." "What I suspect," Darius' words would cut into anyone or anything, as if the winters of Skyrim resided within his voice. "Is that someone has fallen to petty political games with the Demon. Any traitor capable of this act would go down with us, if taking us down was the plan." "Any clues to the motivation behind this?" Luceinus eyes were genuinely curious, "Normally, Samuel could handle a situation like this by himself, does he really not know who sent the assassin? His textbook long list of informants and spies usually can get him solid information on anyone...this is...troubling." "The Demon is preoccupied with other matters," to anyone but his closest family, Darius always referred to Samuel as the Demon. It was fitting way to go about it, most people had no idea that Samuel was both a cover name and a real name. "And I've been without opportunity to consult him on the matter. He may already know who it is, but the word has yet to reach my ears. And until it does, I want you to look into it." Lucienus eye's flickered, as he started to massage his temple. "What happens if I find something that you don't want to hear." He asked, his voice dripping with coldness, "Have you considered the possibility he sent the assassin after himself?" "If the Demon has sent the assassin after himself, you'll never find the proof. If the evidence leads to it, look deeper. If you find nothing, I'll review the findings myself." He started to stroke his chin once again, "This matter has disturbed me greatly, I require double my standard fee." "If you succeed, I'll make sure you're payed. But, given what you work with here, I'll arrange for extra resources to be available to you during your investigation." "Understood." Lucienus faced the Darius once again, before saying, "You Order folk are always getting involved in plots, making enemy after enemy, and thinking your invincible and untouchable. I do hope you understand the gravity of this situation, milord, someone made a move after your precious [censored], tried to kill him." Darius rolled his eyes before he moved. Moving to his left, he planted his right fist in Lucienus' stomach and took a hold of his neck with the other. Forcing the man around, he hit his forehead against the stonewall and let him fall to the ground. It'd hurt for a few hours, but no permanent damage. Just a couple of seconds after Lucienus had opened his mouth, he was lying on the ground with Darius' boot pressed against his neck. Any movement and Darius could easily break it. "Learn your place. I don't care if you don't like the Order, but when you are dealing with me, you will show more respect. Unless you are eager to join your family in the afterlife." Lucienus was silent, but his eyes burned with fury, aimed entirely at Darius and his clan. His hand quenched into a fist. Without another word, Lucienus disappeared from Darius hold suddenly in a flash of darkness, almost melting away,his form returned near the exit of the alleyway. He said; "Understood. Ill send my findings once I'm finished with the investigation, I'll talk to Demon if I require resources from the Order. I'll start in the imperial city." And with that, Lucienus began to walk towards the cities gates. Darius looked after the man. Idiot. He was getting needlessly tiresome as of late. If he didn't do something about his behavior, he'd have to cut him out. Or, more accurately, cut something out of him. His heart would make a good statement. To begin with, keeping him busy was enough. He had mentioned in the mission briefing that Lucienus had to send him an update in what he had found every week through the Demon's network. And that lack of progress would mean lack of funding. Lucienus quickly headed towards the stable. His hand was still in a fist and his body burned with rage, in a display of rare emotion. He was tired of taking jobs from the orders , doing everything deemed "wetwork" for the very people he hated so much. Long ago, the Order had exterminated his forgotten clan, as far as Lucienus was aware, he was the only survivor. To add insult to injury, they had approached him a century later, in all but-name forcing him to do contracts for them. The looks they gave him, thinking him no better then a feral, made Lucienus him to jab his blade into there arrogant face. Regardless, a contract is a contract, and connections to the order payed itself.

Skjari/Witchie, Tullius Outside the Imperial City Noon The training grounds for the legion was in full activity with people training swordsmanship, archery and blocking. Some paces further away from everyone else were the battlemages training with their spells, trying to keep a safe distance with their fireballs and lightning bolts. Dales herself was sparring against Tullius, this time he had convinced Tullius to be more disciplined in his training, Dales needed to retain some dignity as a royal and she wouldn't learn much from being stuck with the face in the ground. Skjari, dressed in his usual black robe and steel plate armor gauntlets and boots, but with the hood down, himself had been pitted against some half decent recruit. Who was a quite average looking imperial man with short brown hair and no beard. If it was to simply test what he could do or if Tullius honestly thought the nord wizard wasn't much for swordsmanship, he couldn't tell. The man didn't provide much of a challenge though as he could easily parry the imperial's strikes and get some rather easy hits before he ended it all by parrying a strike from his right and then curled his left hand into a fist which he rammed into the recruit's gut so hard the legionary keeled over. I do hope this isn't the best the legion can produce. He thought as he looked down on the man that was lying on the ground holding both his hands over his stomach before he turned towards Tullius. "Don't you have anything more challenging?" He shouted. Tullius strode forward, gladius and war axe drawn, axe in the right hand and sword in the left. He was clad in his general armor. Suddenly, and without warning, he charged the distance between the two men, and slashed at Skjari's right with both his weapons, he was fast for his age. "You'll face me then." Skjari quickly held up the wooden sword to his right with the left hand holding the tip of the weapon for leverage and hoped that the weapon would hold, which it almost miraculously did, but a faint crack was heard when Tullius's weapons hit. And Tullius while locking Skjari's weapon, used his left foot and kicked him in the groin area. I'm getting tired of that trick. He quickly cast an armor spell which caused Tullius's foot to feel like he had just kicked a rock. Tullius's foot, oozed pain, but didn't show it on his face. He was a legionary, controlling his facial expressions was key. Undaunted, he used the minimal energy and strength to block the mages sword, and put the rest in bringing down his wooden axe at the nords right rib. Though the wooden axe was parried bya bound sword that buried itself deep into the axe's wooden frame, Skjari then twisted the blade as he pulled the bound sword to his left, forcing the axe out of Tullius's grasp before he dispelled the sword. Now both of them only had one sword to fight with. Tullius didn't let that slow him down, he held his sword in two-hands, and slashed downward at Skjari, whom held up the sword with his right hand to parry, near the crossguard so the general wouldn't get too much leverage. He then quickly sent a punch with his left hand towards his opponents gut as he had did with the recruit. Tullius, suddenly side stepped away from the the punch in a last second dodge, barely avoiding the mages fist, and attempted to whack the pommel of his blade into Skjari's chest, putting force into the blow. And the blow hit hard as Skjari felt the pommel hit his chest and he took a step back and slashed Tullius's sword away before taking a step forth and sent a horizontal slash on Tullius's right side. Tullius parried the attack and Skjari reacted by spinning in the opposite direction, sending his left elbow towards Tullius's head. Tullius's used his freearm to block the mage's Elbow using his forearm. He said, in a tired voice. "Your not bad." Skjari let his arms fall down along his sides, signaling that the sparring was over. he a step away from the general as turned around so could fully face him. "Neither are you for a man of your age." Tullius nodded, wiping the heavy sweat from his brow. He nodded at Dales and threw her a sword, "Practice your downward swings on some target dummies." Dales nodded at both men, and headed over to the practice dummies with the rest of recruits. Tullius focused his attention of the mage, and said. "I take it you wanted something?" "As I mentioned earlier: I want to take some of the legion's battlemages for a unit of my own. I want to handpick and train them in magic myself." Tullius's brow wrinkled, "I assume these "mages" wont be part of the legion or the Pentiulas Occultus? Private unit? Or do you want an imperial commission?" He said. "They'll be private in a way. Serving only Dales, and to an extent me as well." Tullius muttered under his breath, "In other words you." Tullius scratched his chin, "I'll send a list of possible recruits for the "program" of yours by tomorrow, that fine with you?" "Can I go and look if I can find any possible recruits right now? Some of the battlemages are already in training over there." He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of where the battlemages trained. "Be my guest" Skjari dropped the wooden sword and started to walk over towards the battlemages training ground. First they had to pass through the regular training ground and then an empty field before they reached the mages who were throwing fireballs and lightning bolts among other spells. They trained near a large cliff with the targets lined up against the large stone wall, for obvious reasons. The targets consisted of various pieces of junk and broken practice dummies, with the junk lined up on rocks that lied against the cliff. The first one to catch Skjari's eye though was a large orc that managed to hit two targets simultaneously and so hard they flew into the cliff. He fitted in quite well on what Skjari wanted, tall and sturdy to fill up the armor he had in mind, but also talented and somewhat young, good for molding. And even though orcs were technically considered elves, Skjari had only ever seen them as overgrown goblins with a mix of nord culture. He simply couldn't consider an orc as a form of elf. He then turned to Tullius. "I think it's best if you announce that I seek recruits as you're the commanding officer here. Just tell them to keep practicing and I'll pick out those I want." "MAGGOTS ATTENTION." Screamed Tullius at the top of his lungs. The mage recruits instantly turned around, saluted the general, and stood at attention. Tullius began scanning his eyes over them, taking in there details. A particularly attractive Breton caught his eye, but he didn't show it. Instead, he said "This is the Royal Court Mage, Skjari. I dont know why he would be interested in filth like you, but he's searching for recruits." He motioned his hand, and stepped back, as if to signal the mage to speak. The master wizard took a step forth as he he spoke a loud and commanding voice. "I'm looking for some mages for a special unit that is to serve directly under the crown. I'll be training and leading this unit myself. The training will be advanced and intense to make an elite unit. I'll be watching as you practice now and if you are interested in joining, I suggest you really show what you can do. Now back to work." The mages first looked at each other as the they spoke lowly and then got back to practicing. Skjari turned his head to Tullius. "I think I can take it from here." He nodded his head, before turning around. He was conflicted with himself, that much is evident by his unsure movement and confused expression. He went back to Dales, to criticize her form without saying another word to the mage. Skjari waited a moment after Tullius had left before he started walking back and forth while watching the recruits practice their spells. And he noticed that most had upped the level of intensity they cast the spells, apparently hoping to get noticed by the master wizard. A few altmers did a somewhat impressive display but they were elves so he only pretended to give them a little attention. The orc from before proceeded like before with his practicing, either he had confidence in his abilities or he had no real interest in joining. One thing Skjari intended to find out as he walked up to the orc who seized casting spells as the court mage approached. "What's your name." Skjari asked the orc. "Grosch, sir." The orc replied with a calmly. The last part of his name had a strong pronunciation. "Grosh, are you interested in joining the elite unit?" "It's Grosch, sir, not Grosh. And I'm a bit interested. What will you teach us?" "Destruction, alteration, restoration and so on. The training will be varied and advanced, but also very intense so don't expect much free time. So are signing up for the chance to become a great mage?" "Let me think." Grosch's expression turned thoughtful for a second before spoke. "Why not. I joined the legion because it was one of the few places an orc could get some proper magical training in this land. I think this is as best an opportunity for me as it gets." "Trust me, it is. Now I'm going to find a few more recruits. Go wait for me out in the field between the battlemages and the other legionaries. Or you can keep practicing till I'm done, but it would be best for you to be out on the field before I go there if you still wish to join up." "Got it, sir. I'll just throw a few more fireballs before I head out." Grosch then turned around and resumed casting fireballs at the targets. Skjari continued searching for good recruits, a breton woman showed great talent but she was as short as Dales. And he barely glanced at the elves that were trying to show of their talents for magic. He managed to find a few nords among the mages but most of them seemed to have no real knack for the arcane arts. The imperials made up most of the mages and most of them wasn't bad at casting magic and a few of them even had the built he sought. Everyone he wanted showed varied levels of interest and all of them accepted his offer to join. He made a mental note of those talented he had rejected based on body build, maybe he could find a Wraith armor that could fit a few of them. But that would come later as right now he didn't want to recruit anyone he had to refit an armor for. Or maybe he could train a separate unit of Wraiths that didn't get any armor, but that was for later. After half an hour he found himself standing out in the field in front of eight recruits, he had expected to get at least get few more but this is what you get when you're picky. There was Grosch, three nords, three imperials and an extraordinary tall breton. All of them were male except a nord woman. "Listen up. First I want all of you to throw a fireball, or whatever elemental bolt you prefer, at me one by one starting with you." Skjari pointed to the nord on the far end. His name was Bormir and he had brown half long hear that almost reached his shoulders and a slightly untidy beard. "And then we'll continue down the line. I want to get a more precise feel of what you can do." Skjari then raised his left hand as a ward took form in front of him. Bormir took a step forth, looking slightly unsure of what he was about to do as he glanced to the others for a second before turning his gaze to Skjari as he charged the spell and then sent the fireball flying. "Next." Skjari ordered and the nord woman took a step forth and sent an ice spike. And so it continued down the line with the elements clashing with his ward. So far none of them were bad but only three managed to put any real force into their spells. As Skjari lowered the ward he proceeded to give them a lecture in what he considered to be pretty basic destruction magic, which proved to be quite advanced for the recruits as he had to explain over and over. After the third time they managed to understand enough of it that they could start practicing. At least with this few he had more time to individually instruct each of them as they practiced. And near the end of the day they seemed to have fully grasped at least most of his teachings.

Baldur, Rebec Solitude morning Rebec loitered nervously waiting for Baldur to finish with recruits so he could accompany her to the shipyard, then went to collect him. For some days she had been rarely at home. The most exacting work on her ship, the construction of the steerage mechanisms and dressing of the mast, had absorbed her completely. No one but her could apply the special pitch made with her ancestors' ashes- including her mother's- as their family had done since the days of Rebec the Red. Meanwhile the outer and inner frame of the hull was complete. As the ship's outline had emerged against the skyline, set up from the water on its timber construction frame, it had been easier to motivate the crews. There were a dozen other ships in various states of construction or repair, but everyone in the yard seemed to realize that this one was special. It was larger than the Harpy had been, though still smaller and sleeker than the imperial galleys, with a tapered prow both stern and aft, allowing it to switch direction without turning and ram from either end. The lower deck had rowing benches and a captain's cabin, the upper deck could serve as cargo storage and outdoor sleeping room for the crew. It still needed painting and a sail, and Rebec would wait until the last minute to attach the steering mechanism. She had developed innovations which allowed a lighter person- a woman, for instance- to be able to steer with ease, and wanted to keep that under wraps in case the Thalmor were watching. On this day, the mast was going to be erected. By the time she and Baldur arrived, the quay on which the new ship was mounted was a hive of activity. Mazoga was up on the deck, waiting to supervise the mast going in. Holding Baldur's hand, Rebec looked up at the structure, her heart racing. The new ship actually looked like a ship now and she could imagine it skimming through the water. "What do you think?" she asked, wondering how all this appeared to her landlubber husband. Baldur was wearing his officer armor once more, doing more cardio and endurance training with the men, so the strong wind from the docks was a nuisance, knocking the bear claws on his shoulders up in his face occasionally as they walked. Blowing the left one out of his face so he could see, Baldur said, "Well, its starting to look like an actual ship, but I'd be blowing smoke up your ass if I told you it looked especially good for one. I can tell a lot of care was put into it compared to the o-", Baldur once again had to remove the bear fur from his face. "Compared to the others. I'll need to see the finished product. We still decided on the Black Wisp?" "She's beautiful, that's what she is," Rebec insisted. Her eye looked more at design and function, not the unpainted wood. "I like the name, though we'll end up calling her the Wisp, I imagine. Beautiful and deadly, and you don't know she's there until it's too late." She grinned, enjoying the prospect. Mazoga leaned over the rail and called down, "We're ready up here." The orc then whistled for the head of the yard crew to hoist the tall, straight Falkreath cedar that would form the mast. They lifted it off the ground using a freight winch, then guided it up to the ship's deck. Mazoga and others of Rebec's crew helped guide the pole upright and into place, then held it while joists were fixed. Finally the ropes were pulled away and the mast settled into its mooring with a sharp report. The crew cheered and Rebec joined them, waving at Mazoga. "How's she feel, Maz? Tight as a Bosmer's bunghole?" "You got it, Cap," Mazoga shouted down. "She's not going anywhere." Rebec was practically jumping for joy. Reaching up to grab Baldur, she kissed him on the cheek. "I've got a ship again, Red-Snow. By next week or so, we should be ready to take her on a maiden voyage. I want to test her out before we enter in the ship races at Windhelm." Baldur was watching with admiration as the large piece of wood was raised by the men. The team work it took was what got him, which was akin to soldiers on the field. Seeing Rebec so happy around the ship made him both joyous and nervous, thinking on what it would be like when she gave this up despite her reassurances. That was partly why his enthusiasm for seeing it wasn't so grand at the moment, although he was excited to take the trip with her, and get that much closer to their ancestors by doing so. "What ship race? Do we get something if we win?" he said, placing his arm over her shoulder as he looked at the ship. Rebec said, "Oh, I suggested that to the royal stewards as part of the Feast of the Dead. Back in the day, boat thanes always had to win the right to serve as Ysgramor's flagship by winning a race. I doubt I'll be kicked out of the admiralty even if I lose, but I don't plan on losing, so we need to be ready." Baldur cracked a smile, proud that they were finally returning to their roots. "Soon this will be a returned tradition, maybe even for us each year. I had a soldier take up a requisition order for me on that draugr armor. They shipped it off to Eorlund to have it refurbished. Being a general comes with some added perks, such as large discounts on custom armor, although it being a refurbishment means it wasn't going to be much anyway. I used some of the extra gold I made from that book. So by the time we go to Windhelm I'll look like one of our ancestors, heh." Smirking, Rebec said, "You're still wishing I got that female version, aren't you. Just picture a draugr wearing it. That ought to chill your snowberries." "I'm a Nord. And a Necro Nord at that. Nothing chills my snowberries." Baldur tapped his groin while snickering. "We could've broke it out for special occasions! You know, like 'Rebec the Red and her Shoe Thu'umer', or oh I dunno, the Feast of the Dead. But no, you wasted the opportunity." "Special occasions my white Nord ass. And that's what that so-called armor is about. I think the Dibellans must have introduced that as a joke." Rebec broke off as she saw Mazoga jump down from the dry dock and come jogging toward them. The two women conferred, and the orc waved at Baldur as Rebec came back. "Alright, Maz has got it from here. Yesterday I saw the Khajiit caravan arriving outside the gates, so I brought that fire water Ness gave us. Let's go ask the cats what they can make of it." Baldur said, "Alright, but make sure they don't take more than a drop of it on their finger. That's some good stuff, and we don't want them trying to stiff us. They do, and they'll see they're not the only ones with claws. The stuff may be Mehrunes' work, but it was a gift from Ness. I'd rather it not be wasted." "I thought we agreed we'd sell it to them if they want it," she answered, giving Baldur the eye. "I don't like that you've got such a taste for it. You should be thirsting after mead like a proper Nord." "Oh no, I agree we're selling it. It reminds me too much of you and your skooma thing and what could have happened. I just don't want to give it away for a steal. If we're losing it, we're squeezing as many Septims out of it as possible. Can you haggle, or should I? Good guard bad guard routine?" asked Baldur. "This is what I do. Or, did, anyway, before I took to soldiering. Ma'dran won't stiff us. Well, he'll try, but he knows he can't pull that with me. Speaking of mead, how's your little project in the basement going? Maybe you didn't spend much on armor, but the amount we're spending on mead right now is getting out of hand." "It's coming fine, we should have it ready in a few weeks. Had to spend a bit on honey since I plan on bringing some to the feast. And Witchie sent a note a little while ago saying that if you add Ice-Wraith teeth in the honey before mixing it, it'll make something called Frost Honey mead. 'Tastes like the cold sweet kiss of Kaan' according to him. I made two separate batches since the original takes snowberries, and I of course prefer juniper berries. Too bad being a general doesn't come with a discount on mead. Although I think we know who's been drinking like a fish lately, missy." Baldur gave Rebec an accusing squint of his eyes. "Hey, shipbuilding is thirsty work. Kaan, is that supposed to be oldy Nord for Kyne? Wouldn't picture that wizard acknowledging the gods." Rebec's expression turned suspicious. "You got this note from that bird of his?" "Heh, no I got it from the cloth. I aught to send him a message back sometime, but I don't like dealing with that Sybille. That woman gives me the creeps. Maybe I'll wait till we get to Windhelm. He wants us to send him some back every so often. We'll see how good the mead is first. Still not warmed up to Karsh yet, eh?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "That diamond paid for enough fire resistant solution to add to the pitch didn't it?" Rebec had nothing to say about that. The diamond hadn't hurt, that was for sure. It had allowed her to put the inheritance her father gave her aside. That would be enough to set her up with a couple merchant ships, allowing her to stay on land so they could start making little Red-Snows. The Khajiit had their tent set up outside the city gates, and Ma'dran was in his usual place, cross-legged on a carpet in front of the tent. "I welcome you, friends," he said, squinting up at them. "And morning to you, Ma'dran. Been a while." Rebec drew out the mammoth jug from her pack and handed it over. "Take a look at that for me, will you? Not the jug, what's inside. I think it's moon sugar-based, but that's about all I can say." The trader took the jug and looked at it, turning it over. Then he sniffed at the spigot. "Where did you get this?" asked the cat. Rebec glanced at Baldur. The Khajiit were open-minded folk, but she wasn't sure anyone would believe the real story. "It's from confiscated illegal goods." said Baldur. "Found it on a traveling dealer near Rorikstead. We weren't wearing our Stormcloak usuals so he didn't know he'd be arrested. We brought this here because we knew it was different. We cut him off sadly before he mentioned a price and I forgot to ask. Since it's not skooma, or at least I think its not, we can sell it. And if you cut us a good deal, we of course won't be tempted to...give you any trouble." Baldur gave the cat a knowing smile, showing that he knew of his other dealings. Ma'dran glanced from Baldur to Rebec, then handed the jug back to her unceremoniously and resumed his contemplative stance. Sputtering, Rebec said, "Uh, what my dear mate here means is that we're not here in any official capacity. Come on, Ma'dran. You and I, we made some good coin together in the war." "Sand in the wind, my friend. You made coin with the man Erikur, too. This one does not need such trouble." "Erikur? Oh, that. He was dealing with Thalmor. I don't need to tell you that's a whole different game." When the Khajiit sat silently, not answering, she pressed him, "We're not here to shake you down. I don't even know what the damn stuff is. We got it off a giant, okay? I didn't want to tell you because... well, because it sounds crazy." Ma'dran glanced at her again. "Robbed a giant camp?" "Uh... something like that. Look, forget the uniforms. I'm the same Rebec Red-Eye who always made you and Ri'saad a fair deal and didn't ask what you were hiding under your fur. The least you can do for me is tell me what it is." The Khajiit paused, then gestured for Rebec to follow him behind the tent. "Just you. Not the bear man." Rebec looked at Baldur, nodding that he should stay and let her handle it. Baldur smirked, and stood with his arms crossed, eying the cat as he walked. Good guard bad guard. If I know these cats, they won't really let this stuff go. Rebec better get a good deal. Me being here should see to that. A few minutes later, Rebec emerged with a fat coin purse and tossed it at Baldur, smirking. She waited until they were through the gates before she reported what happened. "I had to tell him we were taking it to the alchemy shop before he'd cough up the coin. He doesn't think the stuff is illegal, but someone told him the Stormcloaks are planning to kick out their caravans, so he's jumpy, with us being officers and all. I told him that's not going to happen, of course. He says it's from a tree that grows in Sleeping Tree Camp. Some nonsense about it being from Oblivion and dropped in Skyrim by a floating city. Probably a Hist shoot that someone brought up here, and the giants found it and decided the sap tasted better than mammoth milk." Baldur started tapping his lip with his index finger as he said, "Floating city...floating city...did he say a name? I heard of something like that. Umbra, or Umbrel....Umbriel. That it? Don't know if it's true or not, but I heard tales before. That's about it. As for the cat, all we had to do was walk, and he'd likely call us back. You noticed the way that female one was eying the stuff? Yeah, they're not fooling anyone." Rebec grinned. "Remember our mead bill? They were looking the way you look when you see a bottle of juniper berry reserve. They say they'll pay top coin if we bring them more. Don't suppose we'll see Ness anytime soon, though. I worry about him. It's not natural, him following us like that. He's small among his kind, maybe they drove him out or something." Baldur said, "What, you think maybe he thinks he's one of us for being smaller? Maybe we're nicer to him than they are, us giving him a cow. If the stuff comes from the Sleeping Tree Camp we can always go and get more if we ever need coin. That's a giant camp Vignar has marked, but the other giants there may have migrated away by now as well thanks to you. My book should be picking up by now, so maybe gold won't be an issue. I also have a bit saved away that I never had a need of using, but we can add that to your inheritance. The first pay I got from the book was decent. Who knows, some noble or something in Cyrodiil may get a look at it and make it more popular." "Well don't count on the imps for anything but trouble. I'm glad you got some coin out of them for your book, though, strange as it seems. Do you want to write anything else? 'How Not To Be a Milk Drinker' might sell well down there." "I already did remember? Heh, figures the war poems didn't do very well. So far, the last payment only managed to gain back what I lost on publishing that one. Apparently they get lots of Nords trying to make poems of war, so most of it got skimmed. But a Nord writing love poetry is apparently mostly unheard of. Good poetry anyway. As for writing something else, I've...nevermind." he said, trailing off, as he didn't wish to speak of his recent work. He wasn't sure if he should've even written it, not knowing what Rebec would think. Rebec looked over. "What? You know you're going to tell me eventually, so spit it out." Baldur stood quiet for a while as they walked, thinking over the book and its contents. It wasn't an uplifting tale to say the least. "It's about me. When I was young, when I was twenty something winters. It's not done, and I'm not sure I want to finish it." "But that sounds great! I want to..." She caught his expression and faltered. "I guess it's not a happy story? Something else about your pa?" "Somewhat. I suppose, yea. I just don't like giving sob stories. I guess it's not all so bad. Look at us now, right? Now I see why you don't like talking about your past though." he said shrugging, knowing it was pointless to hide. "Its about my days as a merc, when I was just starting. Maybe you can read it later. Surely you're tired of reading my things by now." "I don't think that's possible, Baldur. I'll read it tonight. First show me your mead. Is it ready to taste?" They'd arrived at the house by then. "Taste, maybe but not to actually drink. Not for at least another week. It's still fermenting in the cellar in the four big barrels. If we're going to be making mead, shouldn't we give it a brand name?" he asked, glad to talk about something else for now. She gave him a strange look as she sat to strip her boots. "Mead's mead. Are you going to sell it? We need all you can make unless you've got pet bees somewhere along with your pet birds." "Ha, if I had bees, the profit we could make on our own would be killer. No, I just think that when we start sharing our stuff, like at the feast or if someone comes over, they should know what to call it when they tell Skyrim about the best home-brewed mead in all the land! Of course, I'm getting ahead of myself. I don't even know what this Frost Honey mead will taste like." "You've got lots of hidden talents, so I'm not worried. Baldur's Brew? Red Snowmelt? Eww, that sounds kind of disgusting. Uh... I don't know. You're the poet here." "Name making isn't really in the job description, but I don't know. Keep going. I've got nothing currently. Maybe we should taste it first or something. Wish we did this a while ago. The mead won't be aged for very long. Hopefully the bottles won't bust." he said, rubbing his chin nervously. The bottles had a chance of exploding if you didn't gas it properly. "We had a little Thalmor invasion to take care of." She headed down into the basement. The smell of sailor had finally gone out of it, though it was used for storage of emergency food supplies on behalf of the crown, and there were practice dummies set up. Rebec surveyed all of this, and Baldur's little meadery. "How about Bard's Brew?" "Maybe. Keep trying." he said as he approached the four very large barrels in the corner that came up to his midsection. There were sacks of yeast on the floor next to his feet as well as large empty jugs that used to hold honey, which he would use later to fill. Baldur slowly lifted the lead off the top of the barrel to peer inside. There was no need to provide a place for the carbon to rise, not that they'd know what that was. The barrel provided enough room up top, and the oak was strong enough to contain it until the lid was lifted. Baldur took a ladle from on top of one of the other barrels and dipped it in slowly, then brought it out for Rebec's lips. "The ingredients aren't fully set just yet. Including the ice wraith teeth. Not sure what effect that'll have once the mead is fully fermented. I guess keep it cold. This is the Frost-Honey mead with snowberries." "And you say this is the wizard's recipe?" Rebec appeared dubious. She took a small sip, then another. Pursing her lips, she said, "It's not bad. Puts a pucker in your meadsucker, though. Maybe it'll mellow out with some age." She took a seat on an empty barrel and stretched out her legs. "Since you're making mead, I guess I better bake sweetrolls more often. That's our other big expense." The last batch she'd tried could have been used as catapult projectiles. Cooking wasn't among her talents. Baldur wasn't about to tell her that, however. They could have tasted like troll's ass and been twice as hard. He'd have downed each one. "If you feel the need. I like mine unfrosted. Here, try the juniper berries one." "I know. Why don't you like frosting anymore?" Leaning forward, Rebec sipped at the ladle and nodded. "There you go. Juniper's the real Baldur mead. Keep the other Frosthoney or whatever the wizard calls it, and this can be your distinctive brand. Like it's right out of Shor's cellar." "Snowberry just takes longer to get the bitter taste out than juniper is all. Blends faster. As for the sweetroll, you know why..." said Baldur narrowing his eyes as he brought the ladle away from her. "Markarth." Rebec appeared puzzled. "You got a bad sweetroll in Markarth?" Baldur's brow knit in frustration, but he was grinning slightly too, so he wasn't genuinely angry. "No, you and your...descriptions...after we talked with Ysana, and our numbers came up? Your lack of subtlety?" "My..." Rebec still appeared puzzled, oblivious to Baldur's trauma over using his favorite food as innuendo. Then realization dawned and she started giggling, nearly falling off the barrel as she doubled over. "Oh you're not telling me... all this time... but you.... oh gods, make it stop." Her fit went on a bit longer, then she wiped her eyes and said, "Listen, general. You just got to let it go. All of Cyrodiil is reading about my glorious poon, so the two of us, we've got no shame to spare." "Hmph, its not funny!" he said, rather unconvincingly while crossing his arms. "Well. Maybe it is, a little. But I'm still mad at you for it. You and your...'glorious poon.'" "Hasn't stopped you from..." At Baldur's pale expression, she refrained from referring to him doing his own frosting. Hooting and giggling, she started back up the stairs. "As for the mead, I approve. Until it's ready, we'll have to settle for whatever's in the pantry. I'm going to grab something to eat and go back to the yard. Set your book out for me to read if you're out late practicing tonight. That's an order." Baldur stayed quiet at that, the humor being lost now at the mention of the book. He started twiddling his thumbs nervously, wondering what he'd do. Obviously he'd let her see it of course. There was no stopping that. "Why'd I even write that stupid..." then of course he remembered why he wrote it, the letter in the beginning of it giving his explanation. Baldur finally walked out of the cellar and made his way to the door to supervise the men, but he hadn't opened the door. Brund had taken over for the remainder of the day, so he wasn't needed, but that wasn't the reason why he didn't open the door. "Damn sob story. I should just burn the damn thing." Baldur turned back from the door and grabbed his book from a bookshelf he hid it in, and started going over the pages, reading it over again before he'd let her read it. It wasn't very long, and as he said it wasn't finished, but before long, he had wasted so much time reading over it, that he eventually started writing in it again, despite his desire not to. He just managed to finish the next chapter in the book before he realized the sun would be going down soon. After finishing the chapter, he just laid back in his chair, resting his eyes. Reminiscing. Feeling...cold. A knock at the door made him bolt up out of his thoughts and caused him to jump from the chair he was sitting in. He sighed wearily and sat in the chair still, not acknowledging the knock, perhaps thinking it was in his head. Then another knock came, this one more urgent. "Don't you have your key, Reb-" When he opened the door, it wasn't Rebec, but a Necro Nord with a brown beard, long brown hair with some braids and hazel eyes bowing his head to him along with five of his men behind him. "Sir." "Yes? What's this about?" asked Baldur. "Son!" Suddenly a burst of yellow and orange came flying in Baldur's direction, knocking the soldiers aside as Ysana pounced him, squeezing his neck for all she was worth. "Baldur." "Mother? What are you..." "Your mother approached the new guard captain in Markarth, asking us about you. You can imagine our confusion...anyway, she asked if she could be taken to you, as the city's been a little crazy lately. The forsworn skirmishes outside the city caused some trouble within. More random forsworn murders as of late." "Really? Why wasn't that in the reports?" asked Baldur. Ysana let go of her son's neck to let him play soldier. "The Guard Captain's been rather busy. Brund has him coordinating Necro Nord activity in the Reach as well." said the soldier. "Anyway, we got confirmation from some citizens and of course, the Dibellans that you were in contact with them for family matters, not...Dibellan matters from their description of you, so on the chance that she was your mother, we brought her here." "Thank you, men. I appreciate it. Go and rest, but I'll need you to report back to the Reach as soon as you can." said Baldur. The soldier nodded his head and made his way to the barracks. When he did, Baldur pulled his mother in the house and gave her another hug. "It's really good to see you, mother." "Same to you son. Where's my daughter-in-law?" asked Ysana. "She'll be here soon. So is the city really that bad now?" he asked. "Well, it's a little worse than normal, but it's not terrible. Truth be told, I just had to see you kids again. I couldn't wait. The guard and the Silver-Bloods have been bumping heads. The Guard Captain and his men check almost every arrest personally to make sure they're not just arresting people for going against Silver-Bloods. The Silver-Bloods don't say much about it though, not with the Forsworn activity the men are putting up with in the Reach. They'd rather deal with your men than them. But I'm of course stuck up in my temple. I was well away from all that. As I said, I just wanted to see you two again." "I'm sure Rebec will be happy to see you. In the meantime-" "What's that you're reading?" she interrupted. "Its...nothing. It's just..." There was the sound of voices at the door, then Rebec came in, parting from some Stormcloaks who were on their way up to the palace. Seeing Ysana inside, she stopped in her tracks. "Ma! Is everything alright?" Ysana didn't waste any time grabbing Rebec by her neck in a similar fashion as Baldur's, and pressing her cheek to hers as she did. "Everything's fine now. You kids thought you could leave me behind huh? Then a war breaks out in the Reach and you didn't even think to send your mother a letter asking how she was?" Rebec returned the hug vigorously, giving Ysana a little lift off her feet. "I, uh... well, you know..." Nobody in her family wrote letters unless someone was dead, and Rebec had never been comfortable with a pen in her hand. She only wrote things for the navy because she had to. "Anyway, here you are! I wore the dress once already and we showed up some snooty elves who think they can sew better than you." Her tone was as proud. "Oh you did? Hehe, good. I'm sure they had their doubts." said Ysana, glowing from the praise. "Wait a minute, you really did sew that?" asked Baldur. "Sure did. It's my own design. We had access to better materials and things in the days of my youth. That was my favorite." she said. "Wow, and here I thought I was fibbing when I told them you made that. I wasn't really sure." he said, still surprised his mother had such talents. "See? There's more to Dibellaning than just sex. Although traditionally there really wasn't. Like a lot of things with Nords these days it's somewhat combined with the southerner's view, but we just don't abandon our own in substitute for it. Well, enough of that. I'm not a Dibellan anymore anyway. How have you two been doing? I see Rebec hasn't been keeping up with her grooming. Your eyebrows can use another tweezing....." "Ow, no, don't even mention that." Rebec put her hand to her head in defensive posture. "Wait, you're not a Dibellan anymore? What does that mean?" "Not much, really. It just means I won't be going back to the temple as a priest. I still revere lady Dibella. I was hoping that...I could stay here?" she asked, looking to Baldur and Rebec pleadingly. "I won't get in your way. I can take a guest room. Then we can spend some more time together. Perhaps you can show me what it is that you two do." Baldur looked to Rebec to see what she'd say. Baldur was fine with it, but was nervous about her bringing....guests. Rebec still had hold of Ysana's hand. "Of course you're staying here. Truth be told, it didn't feel right leaving you in Markarth. You and Baldur only just found each other and we're rushing off, though we did have to get back for the military and all. But now you're here, it's perfect." Whatever doubts Baldur might have, Rebec had none. She and her own mother had had their ups and downs, fighting a lot when Rebec was younger, and only after Jytta was gone had she realized how much she had taken her presence for granted. "Thank you very much, dear. Baldur, is that fine?" "Yes, yes of course. I'll be glad to have you here." he said, quickly hiding his worries with a smile. "Where are your things?" "Oh, I don't have things. Everything that was 'mine' belongs to the temple. Don't worry, I'm not expensive and don't eat much." she said before the question came up. "That's no issue, don't worry." he said. Ysana sighed, relieved that she wouldn't be a burden to her son and his wife. Walking up to give Baldur one last hug around his waist, Ysana said, "Well that's good, because I lied about not eating much. I could eat a horker. You two about to have dinner by any chance?" "Neither of us cooks much," Rebec replied, guiltily. The last thing anyone would say of her is that she was housewife material, but it nagged at her that Baldur deserved someone like that. "Let's go to the Winking Skeever and get you something hot. I'm sorry about you leaving your temple. You're the best they got." "Oh I didn't do much there anyway. Like I said, our visitors have been minimal as of late, even after we were missing our Sybil. And I wasn't...full on. So to speak anymore." said Ysana, hiding her sadness of leaving her home behind after so long. "What's a Sybil?" asked Baldur. "It's a chosen child who communes with lady Dibella. She's chosen from a very young age, and when she's revealed to us, she's brought to our temple. She's a direct connection with Dibella herself." said Ysana smiling, glad that her son was taking interest. Rebec exchanged a glance with Baldur that said sounds like funny business to me, but she didn't say anything aloud. "There's a temple here, one of them imperial ones, but they have a Dibella shrine. Can't tell you much more than that, but you could introduce yourself to the priest so he knows there's a... uh... specialist in town." "Ech, I dunno. Those other priests usually are such stiffs. But we'll see." Truth be told, she really just wanted an excuse to hang around Baldur for most of the time, not wanting to busy herself with work. But she knew he had his duties, and that wouldn't be practical. "Well, I'm starving myself, and could use a drink. So what do you say we make our way to the Winking Skeever, ladies?" Baldur wrapped his arm through his mothers, then waited for Rebec to take his other. Taking Baldur's arm as they walked, Rebec said, "Sometimes people just want a change. You're welcome to stay with us as long as you want, though in a few weeks we're off to Windhelm for the Feast of the Dead, and after that we're supposed to go to Hammerfell to knock some heads together. You ever thought of being a sailor?" "Me, a sailor? No, I never thought about it. Never even been to the coast before. The most water I've seen are streams and rivers." "I don't think the sea life would suit her, Rebec." Baldur didn't like the thought of his mother being gone at sea, visiting ports as she used to. Rebec may not have been as bad as he thought, but he wasn't sure about Ysana. "But she can come with us to Windhelm." Rebec said to Ysana,"Well if you want to stow away, I won't stop you. I got family in Hammerfell and they'd put you up while we're chasing down sand rats to keep our treaty going. Look, there's the elves' shop. We'll go there sometime and you can tell those pointy-eared harpies what's what." "Oh, talking fashion with High Elves? I assume they're Altmer. That should be fun." she said mischievously. "Indeed it should. I told them you were from Bruma." said Baldur. "That's good. I bet they'd look own on me for being a Dibellan. Altmer are just snooty because they don't slick the pole enough. They're usually more controlled to preserve some pedigree or something. Sucks for them. And not in the fun way." "Ugh, another potty mouth." said Baldur. "Just don't use any innuendos with food." "Oh what could I possibly refer to with food, my son? Like, say...sour creaming the mashed potato, or..." "Lalalalalalala! I can't hear you!" he cried out while shaking his head vigorously. Rebec laughed, not having heard Ysana talk so informally before. "Look, he's blushing. Big damn war hero can't handle a little dirty talk." They had arrived at the inn, and Rebec got them a good table, chasing away a mercenary who looked like he'd been nursing the same mug of ale all day. A young Breton from the Bards College was doing a set. Rapidly he switched to "Age of Oppression," probably recognizing the general and admiral and wanting to impress. "Sit, ma, I'll order for us at the bar or that poxy imperial will ignore us til Dagon's day. Mead and salmon steaks? Oh, you wanted horker. I don't recommend the horker loaf, though. I think it's really skeever. Probably where the inn's name comes from." "We'll take the salmon, that's fine. Right ma?" "Yes, that's fine son." "Ok, good. And I'll have both of you know, I can take dirty talk just fine. Just...not with my food. You don't mess with a man's food. And hearing it from my ma..." Ysana pinched his cheek fiercely, grinning as she did. "You'll get used to it. Now go on, sit!" Rebec went off to give their order to Corpulus, and came back with mugs of mead and shouting over her shoulder, "Try to get the food here sometime today. We got a hungry woman over here." She distributed mead, then turned her chair around and straddled it. "Now. What's going on with the bloody Forsworn? Is Brund's war doing any good out there?" Ysana, glanced at the ceiling in an angle, thinking on how to answer her question. "I'm not sure really. It's not like what you'd imagine. Large groups of men charging at each other and what not. When we were leaving the Reach, the day was almost completely quiet. But at night...different story. We didn't sleep much at night, and we kept on the move quickly and quietly. The war is basically filled with ambushing and sneak attacking. I was actually able to see one battle. The men I came with stood by, not wishing to risk the General's mother being captured or killed. There were a group of ten forsworn walking in a straight line on the road. The men thought it was peculiar, and they knew there were Stormcloaks nearby. When we crept up to get a better look, we just barely noticed that there was a group of our guys hiding nearby in some hills across from us. Before we knew it they charged the group, flying down the hills with their greatswords out. The men were dead before I knew it, but just after that happened, more forsworn came out! We didn't know where from until we did some searching and found a barrow covered in a mat with grass and mud. But anyway, they surrounded the Stormcloaks and charged them, and just as they did, more Stormcloaks charged down from the hills as well. They didn't have as many men, but they took the heathens by surprise, and it was enough to gain the upper hand. The Stormcloak men on the outside had shields and they boxed the Forsworn in, making them run into the swinging great blades. Most of them died, but some escaped through the enclosing circle. So it was an ambushed ambush that was ambushed. Except the men that were killed first upon closer inspection were just captured townies. Those bastards dressed them in Forsworn gear and took their captured citizens and tied their hands all together. Then they made them march to draw out the Stormcloaks. And that's apparently the whole war in the Reach in a nutshell." The food came while Ysana was relating this story. Rebec chewed and listened, then between bites turned to Baldur. "How can there be so gods-damned many of them after all this time? I bet the High Rock Bretons are chasing the heathens out of their own territories, pushing them into Skyrim so we have to deal with them instead. Some of those would be very pleased to have Nords and goat-shaggers killing each other off so they can try to take the western Reach from us." Baldur said, "Well they're out of luck if that's their goal. The bright side to this slow war is that most of it is executed carefully, which means mostly minimal casualties. We know how to fight guerrilla wars. As I told Brund, its just a matter of time. Eventually they'll be ran out and go somewhere else. There's only so long you can last living in a warzone. And it serves as a good call to arms for mercenaries and adventurers looking for action. Gives recruits something to fight while they wait for the Great War. This is perfect training. From what my studies say, the Thalmor are all about ambushes and outmaneuvering." "That's a soldier talking. What about all the common folk who wake up to some half-naked savage coming at him with a jawbone axe?" Rebec fell silent, thinking about Toki's less militant stance. He thought war breeds war, but sometimes you didn't ask for it. People couldn't always live side by side, not in the real world. "Ah well. At least you're out of there. Bloody Forsworn, and those damn Silver-Bloods are worse than the imps. Ulfric can't argue with the wagonloads of silver they send his way, though." "Those people, Rebec can choose between those savages now, or those savages later. We're doing this now so those people won't be overrun with Forsworn while we're off fighting knife ears in the South. If they'd rather put up with those savages then with soldier activity here decreased, then by all means, we'll march out right now, and let it happen. Or did you forget what happened to Markarth?" Baldur clearly did not agree with the common folk's view. There was a reason the common folk weren't running things. "Besides, you remember our trip there. Forsworn attacks on civilians is nothing new. Its about time we addressed it. And if anything did happen to my mother, I'd see to it personally that they all burn." "Well, there's no need for that. It's a shame its come to this. Its an ethnic cleansing, Baldur." said Ysana. "War isn't pretty. They can't live peacefully with us. They think the Reach was their land first, we say its ours. Personally, I tend to go with us over them." Ysana wanted to say how much he reminded her of his father, but refrained from saying so and instead stared at him curiously. Rebec pointed at him with her fork. "I'm not saying we shouldn't fight, I'm saying we've been doing it by half measures for hundreds of years and it's only gotten worse. The empire always drawing off our numbers and strength to fight their wars. Now we can do it right, and I almost hate to say it, but I believe Brund is the man for that job." She ate some more, then went on, "Don't worry, ma. There are plenty of Reachmen who keep their heads down and get on with it, and don't like the Forsworn any more than we do. They breed like rabbits, too, so they'll always be Reachmen in the Reach." "Which means there'll always be war in the Reach. Unless we up the population of our own like the Queen said and push them out." said Baldur. "Is that really what you want? To push them all out?" asked Ysana, worried about this militant side of Baldur, all too similar to Ulrin still. "Just the ones who will never accept that this land is ours. Even if they take it temporarily, they're living next to the most militant people in all of Tamriel. It'll just serve as something to keep us occupied. Anyway, this war will put out the trouble makers, and hopefully those of my men taking up guard posts will prevent Silver-Bloods from arresting people for the wrong reasons, which should prevent more people going off with the Forsworn later." That answer seemed to satisfy Ysana. She heard rumors of Stormcloak racism before and glad that her son didn't seem to have it. Baldur and Ysana were mostly busy just drinking, but now they both decided to dive into their food, neither of them bothering with silverware. Baldur cut up his fish with his bear claws, which caught Ysana's eye. "Hey, that's pretty handy. Ha, get it?" "Yes, ma. I get it." he said while grinning and lifting a piece of fish with the claw before devouring it. Rebec watched the interaction between the two, curious to see what Baldur would be like with a mother around. Ysana didn't seem too mothering, though. "You don't mind Baldur's table manners? It's cute, isn't it?" She gave him a smitten look that would probably turn stomachs around them, at least for anyone other than his mother. Baldur started to blush, and of course Ysana didn't miss it. "Aww, look at the big bad bear blushing from his wife's look! Hehehe." "Ma..." he said embarrassed. She ruffled his hair and snuck a piece of fish off his plate while he was distracted. "As for his table manners, na. It gets the food in his mouth which is what is important, and really I'm no better." "Well, it is sort of practical I guess," Rebec answered dubiously. "Oh, Shor's balls! You've got to read what Baldur wrote about me. It's a real book, published and everything. Love poems. I think he got some of that Dibellan in him." Baldur was still blushing, moreso now at this point. Ysana looked at him wide eyed, exited to see it. "Really? When was this? Where is it? Is it being bought?" "Yes, its out here and there. I just published it not too long ago. It even reached the Imperial City." "I can't believe it, I really can't! I'd never have guessed, from our conversation. You've got to let me hear one sometime. Could I read it? Do you have a copy?" asked Ysana almost frantically now. "Yes, you can see it when we go home." he said. "And you said it's a book of them? All about Rebec?" she asked. "Yep, all twenty one of them." he said. "Holy Dibella's dimples, you have my son whipped..." said Ysana, giggling. "Ma!" Baldur cried out. He already put the book out, so he wasn't sure why he was so embarrassed in front of her. It was something he hadn't experienced before, being shy from his mother's presence. It was even more embarrassing hearing her comment on their sex life. "Whipped? Does that mean what I think it means?" Rebec simpered proudly. With a dramatic sigh, she said, "Ah, it was child's play really. Few bottles of mead and Captain you're gonna do this-you're gonna do that Stormcloak was suggesting roleplays. I believe the exact words were 'I've got rope.'" "Oh, I'm the one who's whipped eh?" asked Baldur to change the subject of their kinky night, and of course his ever deepening blush. "Who was it that came all the way from the Sea of Ghosts to Falkreath just to see Baldur the Unkindled? Even your first mate Mazoga says it!" Baldur forgot about the other people in the tavern, who were now paying close attention to the exchange between the Admiral and General. Ysana was just sitting back in her chair enjoying the show. "Had to save you from the Thalmor," the admiral replied suavely, downing her mead. She caught the stare of an onlooker and shouted over, "What's the matter with you, elf got your dick? I'm talking to my mother-in-law here." Then Rebec turned back to the table. "All done, ma? Let's go get you settled in. One thing I'll say for that bastard Erikur, we're living in style because of him. Your room might be a little dusty, though." "Oh no, this isn't settled just yet. Hey, ma, you said you wanted to read the book right? I know it by memory. Want to see Rebec blush?" asked Baldur, twirling a table knife as he leaned back in his chair. "Ooh, hehehe, I'd love to see her embarrassed. How about you, Admiral?" Ysana was rubbing her hands together at the idea in anticipation. "Oh, hey now, that's not..." Baldur ignored Rebec's protesting and soon jumped out of his chair after stabbing the table with the knife, then launched into his poem with a clear and loud voice for the whole tavern to hear. He walked away from the table and slowly walked back towards them as he recited the poem. A storm approaches as you near, shaking all, causing fear, 1 Lightning strikes, lighting night, violent clashing causing fright, My heart rattles, my mouth prattles, fearful like a soon slayed cattle, This feeling is like fighting wind, try as I might, you are within, Like a great wave at the sea, you still slowly approach me, 5 A fire burning, coming near, your heat I feel, yet I don’t sear, Coming near! It won’t dwindle! Yet somehow I stand, Unkindled! I stand now, skin so warm! In the calmness of the storm, How is this I wonder why? Am I in this great storm’s eye? That I am, as you are near, nothing to fear from my dear, 10 But I can’t help but feel from thee, the greatness of approaching sea, Like a great cascading wave, this nervousness I’ll always crave, Now on my knees, although I’m brave, your presence always makes me cave, Paralyzing is thine face, ice blue eyes freeze me in place, Now come nearer, I will stay, come to me, approach your prey, 15 I am yours, now set me free, take my life, sink teeth in me, Now I am yours and now I see, all of this is as should be, In the calmness of this storm, I stand here gazing at your form, Stay with me don’t go away, for you I’ll charge into the fray, But if you leave me, pass me by, grey again is Kyne’s great sky, 20 Alone then would I be once more, the storm more violent than before, My heart forever in your palm, and ever will I chase that calm, Eye of Kyne’s storm, yes it's true, this is how I feel with you, Because...I love you. I love you. By the end of the poem, Baldur had ended up at Rebec's chair, kneeling before her as he finished. Ysana had a hand over her mouth and was trying not to tear up in front of strangers. The inn crowd were stunned out of their usual catcalling, but slowly applause caught and rose. Rebec had been sinking lower in her chair, hoping she might sink all the way through the floorboards, but when Baldur approached her she sat up and could only look at him, as if there was no one else on Nirn. "That was something," she whispered, taking his hand and bringing it to her lips. If they were going to be Breton fools, they might as well go all the way. Out of the corner of her eye, Rebec saw Ysana holding back tears, and smiled over at her. "Good, isn't he?" More than anything, Ysana wanted to go to bed. To her Baldur wasn't just good. To her Baldur just brought her love back from the dead for a second. She was again reminded of the gift and curse of having her son be so much like him, but she brushed it of and regained her composure. "That was wonderful, son. Can we go home? I'd love to see the others." "Of course ma." said Baldur. Baldur took Rebec by her hand and lead her up from her chair, then placed his arm over her shoulder as Ysana led the way back to the house, eager to go to sleep. Hopefully with no dreams of the past. Rebec walked quietly with them. She had figured out that Ysana was not just moved but also grieving, and it made her feel a bit guilty that she had her own love when such a kind and giving woman had hers taken away from her. It couldn't diminish Rebec's own happiness too much, though. At least they were a family, and as she thought back to her excitement that day over her ship, she realized that even having the fastest ship in Tamriel didn't come up nearly to the simple fact of having the people you loved around you. Back home, she left Baldur with Ysana and tried to fix up the guest room a little. It hadn't been touched since Mazoga had had the house cleaned a few weeks prior, and dust billowed out when she shook out the pillows and blanket on the balcony. Rebec started to grumble about needing a housekeeper, but a sneezing fit cut her off. Baldur was in the hallway standing next to his mother, who was wearily leaning on him with her eyes half open. Besides being emotionally distressed, her trip had taken a lot out of her, and she was getting older. "Almost ready, ma. You'll be in bed soon." "You realize this is the first time we've been in a home together since you were three, son?" Baldur looked down to his right at his mother with somber eyes, looking at her dark brown hair that looked so much like Rebec's. "Yea, it's been a long time." Baldur stopped reflecting on the lost time and just thanked Shor that she was here now. "Okay, ma, lets get you to bed." he said, leading her to the room while she leaned on him for support. "It's not much," Rebec said apologetically as they entered. "As good as you'd get in the tavern, but not as nice as your temple." She left briefly and returned with a basin of water for washing, then kissed Ysana on the cheek, saying, "We'll go tomorrow and buy you some things in the market. Sleep well, ma. I'm really glad you came out to us." Something about wanting to have a mother again rattled around in Rebec's mind, but as usual with the important stuff, the words couldn't make it out of her mouth. "Don't you two start fussing over me, dear. I've got everything I want already. Thank you both." Baldur was thinking of Ysana's words about being in the same house since he was a baby. All that time ago, she'd be tucking him into bed and taking care of him. Now its the other way around. Ysana didn't bother taking off her robes. She just climbed into bed and rolled up in the covers, eager to rest. Baldur walked up and waited for her to get comfortable, then kissed her on the forehead. "Thanks again for letting me stay. I love you, son." "Same to y-...I love you too, ma. I'll leave the poem book on your night stand in case you can't sleep and wish to read." Baldur didn't think that would be an issue, as she was already starting to fall asleep. So strange. I barely know her but feel like I've known her all my life. Baldur looked behind him one last time before he closed the door and left the room with Rebec. "Is she alright?" Rebec whispered as they went towards their own room. "Yea, she's fine. She just needs some rest is all." he said, not entirely sure if that was true. "She's too sweet to be so sad. Whatever she says, I bet it was hard leaving her temple. She really loves you, Baldur." Baldur was quiet for some time, unable to stop a feeling of guilt, but he couldn't do too much about it. He sure wouldn't wish her to go back. "I know. She left all her good friends behind. I'll take her with me to work, spend some time together so she's not stuck in the house." Rebec said, "We should take her to see the new queen, if she's still in Solitude. I can tell by looking at this Fire-Hand that she hasn't had much time for pretty dresses, either, and she'll be wanting something for the wedding. No call letting those elves sew a Nord queen's wedding dress." Baldur pondered the thought as they stepped into their room. He took a seat on the bed before saying, "That would indeed keep her busy and give her something to have pride in. You think she'll have enough time? I don't think they planned on getting dressed for this, but I think they'll accept the offer anyway." "Maybe Fire-Hand will want to get married in dress armor. Anyway we can offer it. Even if it's not for the wedding, the queen will need some fancy dresses for meeting milk drinkers later on." Rebec started unbuckling her leather armor, pulling at the gauntlet straps with her teeth. Glancing at Baldur, she said, "I haven't forgotten about that other book of yours. You don't want me to read it, do you? Why not?" "Sometimes you have to do bad things to achieve good. And sometimes you fail in the attempt, making it pointless. So then, was the bad act good from the intent? Nevermind. I'll let you see it." Baldur walked up to her while she was undressing and pulled her to him, seizing her lips with his. "Just promise you won't look at me differently. Oh, and forgive me ahead of time. Had to write briefly about previous women to explain some things. I don't covet them of course." Surprised, Rebec returned his kiss, then held on to his arms. "Red-Snow, when are you going to learn? You're not getting rid of me." She didn't really know what he meant about bad things, so left it at that. About the women, that was also better left alone, since she couldn't make promises not to be jealous. When they were both ready for bed, she took the manuscript and settled in to read it, resting her head back on Baldur's chest for a reading pillow. Baldur wrapped his arms around her waist and settled his head back, closing his eyes, but not sleeping. http://tesalliance.org/forums/index.php?/topic/6530-civil-war-aftermath-origins-background-stories/?p=98698 "If you have questions, feel free to ask. I'll be resting my eyes while you read. It's not too long. I kept it short to cut through the fluff." She was already reading the preface letter, where he said that the book was written for her and for their future children. Her eyes swam and she had to brush at them before she could go on. At the first chapter, her brow knit. "Who's this Bosmer fellow?" It was a rhetorical question, so she read on, laughing at the account of the elf's unique hunting skills. When she got to the part about the Bosmer meeting a bard in a tavern, Rebec laughed again. "'Girly hair?' Hahaha! Some Bosmer thought you were girly. You've roughened up over the years, love. Can't say the word 'girly' came to mind when I first saw you up on Fort Neugrad's walls." That made Baldur laugh a bit, thinking back at that day. "Yes, I was a bit of a pretty boy back then. Heh, Brund still calls me that, but everyone's pretty in comparison. It's the mohawk mostly, but he's not out to look good. What did come to mind that day in Neugrad? I had a knotted beard back then I remember." "I was just thinking how the imps were setting you up for something. Didn't know they didn't have a plan. And I was mostly too worried about that wagon, especially Erikur's secret surprise, to be ogling men. Now shush and let me read." Rebec read on, chuckling at the brawl and Baldur's taunting. Her chuckles turned to a groan when she got to the second chapter. "Narri. That was that redhead tart's name." She read through that part quickly, mumbling curses, and laughed loudly when she got to the part about Baldur leading the orc bandit chief towards a frost troll, and then again when he had the Bosmer going about how many songs he knew. "That's my Red-Snow," she said proudly. Baldur smiled and kissed her head affectionately. "What part made you say that?" "You horker-shitting the Bosmer about how many songs you knew," she answered. "And earlier when you horker-shat that orc bandit into a frost troll ambush. Couldn't mess up your girly hair with having to fight, after all." Rebec grinned and poked him in the ribs, then settled back to continue reading. She was hooked now, and assumed it would all be as light in tone as these parts had been. Baldur thought back to those days, remembering how he chose his lifestyle to escape his father and what he wanted him to be. But by the time he was older, he enjoyed the prospect of a good fight just like any Nord. So in the end, there was no escaping it. His blood was hot, and had to be burned in the fire of battle. It wasn't so bad regardless. He was away and on his own. It didn't get bad of course until the events of his job with Maori, the Bosmer. Life was actually good, for a time. Until then. Rebec read on, absorbed in the tale, and only snorting once at Baldur's near-seduction of a female bandit chief, and occasionally chuckling at the antics of Baldur and his Bosmer employer. "Whatever happened to this little elf, he's funny. Never mind, don't spoil the suspense." A little further on, she said, "Snow whales! You heard about those?" "Of course, every Nord should. Sadly that isn't the case. The old men of Bruma, usually at Talos's temple are a wealth of old Nord tales and information. I wish they'd move into Skyrim. They think that the Nords here know any better than the ones in Cyrodiil. I guess it wouldn't do any good telling you I really saw one, huh?" asked Baldur. She pursed her lips. "You can try, but I'm going to put it down to your lying bard tongue." Baldur sighed before laughing in defeat. "Alright, read on then. I'll save that one for Ragna." She bit her lip at his mention of their name for a daughter. Kyne, if I ever asked you for anything, please forget about the rest and just let that happen. There was no sense in dwelling on it, though. Not when she had a story to read. "Haha! I pick stuff up and put them daown, I can just see that little shit-stirrer saying that in a Nord accent. I like this guy." Maori had made it firmly into the "elves that aren't completely worthless" category. "So he taught you how to throw axes? Well isn't that something." Baldur said, "Yep, and I've been doing it ever since. Seems to almost always catch an opponent off guard. Like a snake bite. Quick, lethal and unexpected. Suits my style well. Maori was the first I saw of a warrior elf. And a Bosmer one at that. Still surprises me to this day that Dunmer are more suited to melee than magic." Rebec didn't have any more to say about the ways of elves, so she kept reading. "Ha ha! You coached him in how to woo women. I guess I'm proof you got that right." The parts about battle lust were familiar, and it made her think back to the first time a pirate vessel attacked her father's ship and she saw her gentle giant of a father hacking men's limbs off and tossing them, already dying, into the Sea of Ghosts. It had been a rude awakening, though mostly it had just made her angry. She'd been born with the battle urge, too, and never looked back. As Baldur's story took a darker turn, however, Rebec's grin faded. That he had had to bargain himself as rapist in order to save a woman's life, and the tests of mettle the bandits put him through. "Did this really happen?" she asked soberly. "Yep, every detail. Skyrim's a tough place." He took a glance at the book behind her head to see where she was at, then closed his eyes again. "Even though that ass whooping was the most severe one I've ever taken, it was easier to handle compared to Ulrin's. His words stayed in my head long after the bruises subsided. As for the bandits, its amazing how low a man can sink when away from prying eyes of society. I got a first hand view on just how decadent and animal-like we can be. Man and mer alike." The part about Baldur killing civilians was hard to read, and also reading how he and Hilda ended up comforting each other. It wasn't jealousy that bothered Rebec so much as that he felt that low that he could only see bleak thoughts, and just want any human tenderness. The author note that said that he had found his "sun" made Rebec's eyes water again. The thought of Baldur suffering made her want to reach back through the years and take it all away. She couldn't do that for real, but maybe she had after all, in some way. Being there with him while she remembered Jala had taken some of the burden off her shoulders, after all. Not the pain, but the hopelessness that drove it deep. If she could do that for Baldur, too, then that was something. When she got to the end of what he had written thus far, Rebec set the manuscript aside and, saying nothing, just turned and put her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Whatever pain they still carried from the past, and whatever they encountered from here on out, it would be together. The response she gave was what he was hoping for. Acceptance, not repulsion. Like back at Falkreath after the Battle of Pale Pass. He squeezed her to him and patted her on the rump to try and lighten the mood. "I don't hurt about those things that you've read anymore. It's in the past. It'll always be there with me, but you know. It's a well healed wound. Just talking about it sometimes removes the scab. Talking about Ulrin did that, and it helps to write things down to get over it. And of course, having you. Now maybe you understand a little better how you help." She nuzzled him anyway, whether he needed comfort or not. "I know. And you survived and are the man you are for all that happened, but it's just hard for me to read. You better finish it." The last was said sternly. "I'll need some incentive..." he said, settling his hand on the cheek he tapped earlier while laughing slightly. "My beautiful warm sun." "The incentive is my boot in your ass, sweet bard," she answered laughing. Burrowing down further, she drew the furs up and settled back to sleep. "It's a good story," she murmured sleepily. "This better work out, the whole bandit thing." "You'll see." Baldur was about to settle in too in defeat, but had a better idea, and attacked her belly with his fingers with his head under the sheets. "Not getting out of it that easy. As I recall, someone said 'Who needs sleep?'" He continued his assault by rubbing his beard on her lower stomach and kissing at her belly button. "That was a rhetorical question," she said, laughing. It could go either way as far as she was concerned, but with Baldur's warm breath on her skin, it was definitely leaning to no sleep. She rubbed her fingers through his hair and let him make his argument. Baldur was grateful for her relenting. She could tell, or so he thought, that his desire was more than lust and he just enjoyed pleasing her. She had done so much, changed so much to make things with them work, or did she? It was really that she hadn't changed who she was that he liked so much. It was more that she allowed him to see more of what she was like, which made him obligated to do the same. She did change some though. They both did for the better. Less hopelessness, more optimism for the future, and it showed. Her reading the book and accepting its contents was a lot like the unconditional love Ysana showed him, which to him was something very powerful indeed and made him feel indebted. So he showed his gratitude by pleasing her long and with extra enthusiasm with his head under the sheets and his fingers working, giving her gentle kisses in between licks and slipping his tongue inside her. When he crawled up to meet her eyes, he said, "Thank you, for accepting me." Then he kissed gently at her neck as he brought himself into her. A murmur was her only verbal response, but Rebec was better at showing her love than expressing it in words. The things he'd had to do to earn credibility with the bandits didn't faze her at all. She had killed men and women, too, for no better reasons than his book described. He was a warrior and so was she; it made them the same, made them closer. She brought her arms and legs up, encircling him and kissing him as they moved together, then some minutes later pushed at his chest to roll them both so that she sat astride. Taking her time, she lifted off her woolen shirt and tossed it aside, then took both his hands and laced her fingers through. As she did so, she gazed down at him with the same smitten look she'd given him at the inn, only now heavy-lidded with lust. Rolling her hips slowly, she took one hand and held it to her abdomen so that he could feel himself inside her. Then Rebec had to bite her lip, but she couldn't hold back the waves rising up through her belly. Moving his hands around to her bottom, she let him help her set a pace, finally stretching out on his chest and holding him until they found their frantic end some minutes later. She lay stretched out on him, talking softly and kissing him while she drew out the warm contentment. "You're too good," she whispered. "Sometimes I think you must be a dream." "By Shor..." he said laughing from the shock of ecstasy and wide eyed as his heart rate lowered. As his breathing calmed, he started to close his eyes half way as the satisfied feeling left him drowsy and content. "The feeling is very mutual. I think the blessing of Dibella follows ma around." Baldur moved his hands from her bottom to her back and he held her tightly to him, intent on being her resting spot that way for the rest of the night. Rebec didn't object, and she didn't fight sleep for long, either, since waking up like this would be just fine. *** Ysana did find sleep shortly after the two left her room earlier, but it was short lived. Being so close to Baldur brought back so many memories, so many thoughts that she hadn't thought about in a long time. Purposefully barried to avoid the pain. The times that she did think about those memories back in the temple, thoughts of Ulrin, made her long for what she had forbid herself from, knowing that he probably thought she fell back to it after he left, and hoping some day he'd come back. She tried relieving those urges herself, but she always thought of him during, and that always brought tears. She was old now, and those urges didn't beset her as much as it used to. But thoughts of Ulrin were still there all the same. She eventually took Baldur up on his offer and started reading through his book for Rebec. She only got through a handful of the poems before she couldn't read anymore from blurry eyes. Both out of hurt and joy. It seemed that the gods felt that they needed to pay the Red-Snows back somehow for what they put them through by making her son's life turn out so well in the end, giving he and Rebec what was taken from her and Ulrin. Her thoughts drifted back to her scant memories with her son, when he was a child. She remembered being curled up to him with Ulrin on the other side, protecting him together in the night. Suddenly she awoke, feeling something crawl over her in her sleep. When she awoke, she saw what she made out to be a dark writhing form over her baby, only recognizable as a snake, which was odd in the stone homes of Markarth and even more odd in Skyrim as there weren't many snakes. She then awoke again, screaming over fear of her baby's life. Ulrin woke up too, but Baldur stayed asleep. Ulrin was a different man then. He listened to her talk about her nightmare and how she thought it was a bad omen. He comforted her and waited until she was calm again and fell to sleep before he did as well. When Ulrin took him, she couldn't help but feel her initial thoughts were right. As Ysana brought herself from this memory back to the present while she was holding the book and laying on her side, she realized it was a sign of a blessing rather than a curse. Soon, as if to give credibility to her theory, she heard the two lovebirds from where she was faintly, then smiled, both sad from what she had lost, yet happy that her son of forty winters despite everything had found happiness, and she found him. This thought finally allowed her to stop dampening her pillow and instead close her eyes, thanking the gods for not forsaking the Red-Snows as she drifted off into the land of content respite and inner peace. At least, for a while. Sleep truly is a blessing.

Samuel, Maggie, Eduard Imperial City nighttime Maggie had convinced Tanie to open up the front of The Cordial Lady into a terrace cafe, while keeping the lounge and upper rooms for their more intimate purposes. The alchemist madame's drinks were too good to keep only to brothel patrons, she argued, and why should not a brothel be a place where people could relax and converse? Business was slow at first, but the subversiveness and exotic beverages at least drew an artistic crowd. The back entrance of the establishment was still kept private for high-end clientele who wanted horizontal refreshment only. Towards midnight, a woman who appeared to be a widow in mourning slipped into this back entrance and into a private room. It was set up with lounging chairs, a warm fire, and a tray of drinks. Maggie entered, surveyed the room, and cast her usual diagnostic spells and muffling before she drew back her veil and threw the shawl aside. Underneath it she wore a short, sleeveless black dress. Her father's note had been terse. He had to return to Skingrad, and she was to hold this meeting in his stead. She poured herself a glass of godfire, a liqueur seasoned with daedra blood and orange, and sat down to wait. "You're five minutes late, after my expectations." In a theatrical fashion, Sameul got to his feet. He had taken one of the chairs and placed it in the corner, just out of sight for anyone coming from the door. His spells had made it easy enough to avoid her immediate notice, allowing him his fun. Unlike the past few days, he was once again clad in a simple, dark and very finely tailored outfit, with slight silver trim. From the look of his eyes, he had just passed the limits of concealment of his latest meal; the red color had ever so slightly started to take a hold of his eyes. He was smiling at her. "Apologies on our last meeting's abrupt ending, I would have stayed to chat more if I had the chance. If you're interested, I did manage to dig up something about the Hard-Heart family." "A lady should always be late," Maggie answered casually, sipping. "Lest the gentlemen think her too eager. I'm glad one of us has discovered something about the mysterious general. Tell me. We have some minutes before our assassin is expected." "Not about the general, Rose, about his family," he took a seat just close enough so she could hear him talk in a voice barely above a whisper. "The Hard-Hearts. Long family service to the Legion, but there is something else. This has gone on for at least 200 years. There are always two Hard-Heart children, one serving the Legion and one becoming a leading figure for a notable mercenary band. Do you know what this means?" "He has two armies at his disposal instead of just one?" "Not at all, I doubt whoever this other Hard-Heart is has any interest in this conflict of his. No, it means there is a way for you to get an upper hand on our dear general. This is something very few know. Right now the clues leads to a group of Redoran Retainers working out of Blacklight. It took even me some time to acquire this information, meaning it is not commonly known. A card you can play to see if you can't knock him off script." "Dunmer mercenaries led by a Nord. Interesting." "Not officially, as there is no such groups in Blacklight led by a non-Dunmer active today. Most likely using a frontman to avoid racial backlash. Or maybe this Nord isn't in charge, though that would break the pattern. Tough warrior too, moreso than Jon, if the pattern holds. That is the thing about this family; it follows a pattern. The more skilled warrior becomes a mercenary, the other one goes to the Legion. At some point, if we get the chance and Jon is still alive by then, we should try to seek out whoever this other Hard-Heart is. But, for now, you knowing should give you an edge in your next meeting. Dinner, was it?" "I doubt he would see me now that Skjari has removed him from his post. I'm also not sure how this helps us, but it's more than we knew before. More pertinent would be what his plans are." "I'm sure you'll be welcome, I got the impression he had taken a liking to you. If possible, it should be turned to our benefit. And our guests should be here any minute now." Eduard wasn't too excited to be out this late. He would rather be asleep, but he had received orders to attend a meeting on behalf of the Dark Brotherhood. He wasn't going to disobey orders just yet. In any case, he made sure to arrive at The Cordial Lady at the exact time specified on the note. He slipped towards the back entrance, and silently made his way inside. From there, he used his memory of the letter to lead himself quietly to a private room, where the meeting was supposed to take place. Maggie heard a soft footfall, and a quick spell confirmed someone had paused outside their door. She opened it, starting to say, "The emissary of Sithis-" She stopped short as she recognized Eduard. For a moment her composure faltered, then she gave the man a wry half-smile. "We meet again." "Eduard, a pleasure. Please, take a seat." Samuel looked at the man he had hired, throwing a glance at Maggie. Eduard gave a look of recognition when he saw Maggie open the door, and a slight raise of his eyebrow. "Indeed," he said, hearing a man inside the room greet him as well. "The pleasure is all mine. Although, it would help if I knew who I was having the honor of meeting. Though, it really isn't too important. I'd much rather get down to business." "Oh, Alef didn't tell you? I'm your- what shall we say?- former employer. Of sorts," Samuel gestured to a chair opposite of an empty one, presumably belonging to Maggie. "Samuel then," Eduard said after a split-second of hesitation. He also sat down in the chair Samuel gestured towards. "That name will do." Eduard smiled, then sighed as he got comfortable in his chair. As interesting as these two being together was, he was more interested in figuring out why they were all here. "Alright then. Now that we have our names, or at least our preferred ones, out of the way why don't we just get right down to it? Unless of course either of you have any questions to ask me before that." "I do. Rhetorical, of course, but I want to hear you say it; why did you get the contract wrong? It was well within your capabilities to get it right, and in a more fashionable time." Samuel smiled and leaned forward. If Eduard had a keen eye, he would be able to spot the hint of red. If not, he'd be disappointed in him. Eduard noticed something as Samuel lurched forward. His eyes had a slight touch of red in them, but they weren't bloodshot. He gave a look of possible recognition, before returning to his normal straight face. He doesn't seem tired, and it would make sense giving how much he seems to know according to Alef. So... yes. That just might be it. I may even know who I'm dealing with too now. Well, maybe. But it's one hell of a stretch. But I'll let them reveal themselves at their own pace. "Right. I just didn't like the way Alef handled the whole thing. Not that she was bad or anything, she was quite good actually. But there was too much control, not enough knowledge. I don't enjoy being in the dark. Well, maybe not as much as some people anyways. So I completed it just enough to where I didn't go back on my word completely. I was well aware that whoever she worked for was not a person to mess with much." Eduard made sure to drag a bit on his last sentence. He was more than positive Samuel would pick up the hint. He didn't really expect an answer though. "Yes, that was disappointing," Samuel leaned backwards in the chair. There was no smile on his lips anymore, at least that Eduard could see. Samuel's face was partially covered in shadow. "Had you completed it properly, I could have offered you a much more lucrative job than the Dark Brotherhood. One better suited to the particular set of skills you have developed. But such talk is sentimentality, and you have to forgive me for delving into it. I hope you have done your homework for this meeting?" "As much as I could, anyways. I wasn't told too much. Probably the fault of a diminished Brotherhood, I'd imagine. I remember the letter exactly though. 'You are to meet with members of a powerful group at The Cordial Lady at about ten minutes past midnight. From there you will negotiate the safe reopening of the Dark Brotherhood in Cyrodiil. Now, from what I know the Brotherhood originally lost their foothold here for a couple reasons. The only one that makes any sense are the stories of the Brotherhood stepping on the toes of a very powerful group one too many times, resulting in a feud. The Brotherhood was outmatched, and quickly folded due to a multitude of problems. So, you two are representatives of this group if you ask me. I have a few more ideas, but I'd rather you fill me in instead, as to have a more accurate idea of why I'm actually here." "What do you say, dear?" Samuel turned to Maggie. "You're the one that was chosen to lead this effort after all. I'm merely here to assist you. Shall we let the Assassin off easy, or make him think a little more for himself?" Maggie walked around the others, a stare fixed on the assassin. "We'll talk business, but let's not forget our manners. What can I offer you, Eduard? May I suggest the mint cordial. You are a rather cool sort, after all." Apparently she hadn't forgotten his snub of her invitation. Eduard caught the hint loud and clear. But he had already apologized once, there was no need for redundancy in his eyes. He did nod though, to show he understood her. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm not much of a drinker anyways. Water would be nice, if that's not too much to ask. Sorry for being a hassle, Magdela. I'm not always this difficult." "Only when you can afford to, I've been told. A dangerous road to walk, given present company. But..." Samuel let the last word hang in the air. Would he catch on to it? "Water." She shook her head once, but walked to a sidebar and poured him a glass. Returning with it, she took a seat and said, "Back to business, then. Eduard, you are right that there was a feud, as you called it. There were several forces at play, both within and without your organization here in Cyrodiil, to bring about its ruin. We represent one of those forces. You can guess from the outcome who won that feud. However we're not here to gloat, rather to let bygones be bygones. Have your people not briefed you on the purpose of our meeting?" "This meeting was briefed to me through a letter. As you, and I, both mentioned the brotherhood is far from what it used to be. But I already figured out what you told me before all of that. So yeah. The majority does ring a bell. I wasn't with the Brotherhood when any of this took place though, so excuse me for not fully knowing who you guys actually are. Other than maybe a tale I heard once of course." "To begin with, beyond what you can read from us, what you really need to know is that we have the resources to bring the Brotherhood back to Cyrodiil," Samuel expressed a slight, barely audible even to Maggie, disappointment in what Eduard had said so far. Eduard caught the disappointment on Samuel's tongue. Well, not his tongue. But he could feel as if he missed something. He didn't care much. He'd rather not play games anyways. He wasn't sure what he missed anyways. Samuel was talking, and seemed to be cut off by Maggie. "I'd imagine so. There wouldn't be all too much point of us meeting if you had no way for our organization to make a comeback here. I certainly don't have such power. And apparently scuffling with you guys left the Brotherhood as incapable as I am in this particular matter. So, since you seem to be getting to the point, what do you need from me? Or us, rather?" He was getting slightly impatient with the suspected vampire. Not because he of what he was saying, but because of what he wasn't. All this hiding wasn't necessary for such a meeting. And he figured if he already knew why Eduard chose to botch Alef's job, then he must know he isn't in the Brotherhood for the money or the family. This was all in his head though. His expression didn't show anything really. Maggie sighed. "Ah. Well, we had hoped your Brotherhood would give this more importance. Perhaps there was not time. You aren't in the Imperial City only to see us, I take it. Or to attend the arena." A thought occurred to her. "Do you know, I recall hearing that the Blue Team champion was recently murdered, and the Yellow Team champion is being held under suspicion of the crime. One of yours?" She gave Eduard a knowing smile. He may have snubbed her, but if it was for professional reasons, that was actually cause for respect. "I would imagine time played a large part in the lackluster briefing I got. Oh well, it's no matter. I made it here. You two seem to know what you're doing and that should be more than good enough. As for your other question, I'd love to be blunt, but it'd be nice if we could all start doing the same. I'm not much for wordplay, if you know what I mean. Anyways, I'll just say it wasn't Kalendal who killed the Grand Champion. Take that as you will. Besides, knowing who you are now I doubt you let me walk out of the Arena that day without a tail. Maybe one of those guards who were trying to look inconspicuous? I don't know." "Not a guard, no," Maggie answered. "I followed you, for a time. I was concerned that you were there for me. Now that we understand each other, let us cut to the chase. Obviously the Brotherhood is operative in Cyrodiil again. We are here to say that we wish you well, but wish you also to remember the lessons of the past. Prior to our conflict, our organizations had had a long history of cooperation, or at least, of live-let-live. Is it your understanding that your Brotherhood wishes to return to such happier circumstances? There will be no resumption of hostilities, no foolish notions of payback?" "That has been my understanding, yes. I was told to negotiate the safe return of the Brotherhood to Cyrodiil. Myself, I don't really care. About revenge, that is. So some people died, it's not really that big of a deal to me. It was years ago. I'd imagine many of yours died before you attacked back anyways. So, there won't be any revenge plans on my agenda. Or anyone else in the Brotherhood for that matter. Though, my word isn't law on that subject. So, now I ask you. Why bring them back? What does your organization, which you have neglected to inform me about, have to gain from this? All I see is a sinkhole for your gold, unless you plan for us to pay it back by doing what we do." She shifted in her chair, crossing her legs primly. "On occasion our paths may cross, if there seems to be advantage in it. Most such matters we handle ourselves. No offense, but the human heart and the chanting, it's a bit much. More for the desperate or for those who don't already hunt the living." Another clue as to what their organization involved. "What we want is an understanding that our members are off limits. If there is a contract for someone known to be under our protection, it should be brought to us and we will negotiate the terms, in utmost secrecy. For now, this means Samuel and me, my family, and our known close associates. As you establish yourselves again, we will be watching, and you'll receive warnings as and when pertinent. Do not ignore those warnings. Obviously we also expect that our secrecy be maintained. That shouldn't be difficult." "That's all fine by me. The protection from contracts anyways," he said, writing something down on a piece of paper. "Same goes for the secrecy, although you understand that'll require some work on your part. If you want to remain a secret, but not have us kill you anyways. So, you're going to fund our return, in return for us not killing you... Sithis? That what's fueling your want to get back on good terms? Or is it more obvious, like power and money?" "The motive is to get ahead of any unpleasantness before it starts. I don't believe we ever spoke of coin. You are paid well for your work, so I assume you have your own means. What we offer you is peace. If you need it, we can help secure you safe lodgings until you establish your own sanctuaries, and we can spread the word to the right ears that you are in business here again, such that coin will take care of itself. Information, if you need it, though that is at a premium." Maggie took a drink of her blood-red liqueur and put the glass back down. "The most valuable thing we have offered you already. You have seen our faces and know our names. If you have reason to contact the Order, you may do so through us. Leave a message here with Tanie, and tell her that Eduard sends his regards, and I'll know from whom it originates." "You probably know that I myself shouldn't require much. As far as information is concerned anyways. I'll let the others know. As for safe lodgings, I believe I can figure that out as well. Shouldn't be too hard, really. As for coin, I misspoke. Aid is a much more appropriate word. In any case I think I have a good idea of who, what, and how to get the Brotherhood back on their feet around here. And I guess I was right. Had enough clues though," Eduard said, handing Maggie a folded piece of paper. "In any case, it'll be my pleasure to bring them to the top of their game. Without the discomfort of having your people... die." Maggie took the paper, glanced at it, and smiled. The scribbled note read The opposite of chaos. Unlike some others of her kind, her smile can reach her eyes, giving at least the temporary impression of actual warmth. "Clever man. We are coy by nature, but now all should be clear. A beginning is a delicate time, Eduard. Perhaps the unseen forces which guide us drew you together first with Samuel and then with me, for I daresay we have made a good one. And now I'm glad that you turned down my invitation. Not that it would have been unpleasant for either of us, but would perhaps have made our continued cooperation awkward, since you must now guess what my motive was. I hope you'll forgive me for my lustful thoughts." Her smile turned mischievous. "Just so you know, my decline was purely professional. Your charm is quite incredible. I imagine you don't have too much trouble getting yourself a fix," he said with a smile. "But work comes first. Good thing too, I guess. Now, I guess that pretty much concludes business here tonight. Anything else either of you want to talk about before I go? I'm a busy man. And tired. I don't do night as well as your kind. I have to be prepared. But I don't want to leave any unfinished business here either, so don't hesitate to ask." "I think we've covered it?" Maggie looked to Samuel for confirmation. "I think so," Samuel nodded. He hadn't said much this meeting, merely observing how Maggie handled it. "I hope you realize that we are taking a risk we didn't need to take in order to establish a mutually beneficial relationship, Eduard. Information I'm sure you'll be kind enough to pass on to your... superiors." "Whatever your motives, I do understand the risk you're taking. So I'll be sure to let them know. Though I would hope they would already understand you're extending a friendly hand for them. It's not too hard to figure out, really." "Well, safe to say, I think some of the remaining members might disagree with you. This could all be an elaborate trap to get you out of hiding, if you're smart enough to consider the option." "Perhaps. But if that's the case, I'd be severely disappointed. The Skyrim chapter won't be affected all that much by the reopening of the Cyrodiil chapter. But of course, I did consider the option." Maggie stood, ready to show the man out. "Eduard, where are you staying tonight? Don't worry, I only wish to send over a token of my esteem." "Oh, I'm sure. You've rented a room at the Merchant's Inn, I'm told," Samuel replied, giving Eduard a little smile, before throwing a glance at Maggie. It very plainly told her that he wanted a word with her in private before they parted ways this night. "He speaks the truth. Now I'd imagine you two have some stuff to discuss after a meeting like this. It was a pleasure, but I must get going," Eduard said, heading towards the door. Maggie merely watched him leave, then turned back to Samuel. "I might think him a farm boy rather than an assassin, but that he had pulled off this arena murder with such skill. I wonder who wants the Altmer champion disgraced?" "He was... disappointing, compared to his reputation. I had thought him able to tell us who we were, I gave him all the signs necessary, as a lowbar on my expectations. Instead... Well, safe to say, I think I will do my dealings with someone more suited for it in the future." Samuel nicked a small bottle from his jacket, drinking it all in one sip. His eyes, where the red had really started to become obvious, almost immediately went back to their original color. "What do you think of him?" "He's from Skyrim and they are a plain-spoken lot. I like his style. Who would mark him as a skilled killer except another such as himself? You are the same way. Forgettable in a crowd, like someone who appears familiar and yet doesn't stick in the memory. A useful trait for your profession and his. What was this murder you had arranged for him to carry out?" "Just some upstart who thought himself to challenge me at my own game. Had him killed as a test to your new friend. Flawed execution, performing the assassination at the same time as the death of Falkreath's late Jarl. I asked for quiet, he gave me a public investigation. Good for him that the Jarl died and the investigation died down without much of a fight." Samuel got out of his chair, conjuring a small orb of light. He looked a bit bored. "I suppose it will have to do, this Eduard fella. For now anyway." "They are an organization in its wane, or in rebirth if one chooses to be optimistic," Maggie pointed out. "I don't plan to have anyone murdered just yet. We needed a messenger, and time will tell if this Eduard can be trusted with that task. At any rate, he did guess who we are." She handed Samuel the paper. "'The opposite of chaos.' That is an optimistic view of our little group, too, isn't it." "And he still didn't manage to make the meeting any fun. I was right to be disappointed in him; after all, had he just been messenger quality, I could have lived with him being childish and Aleffea had made one of her few mistakes in judgment. Instead, he is closer to what she told me about him, yet he acted so... boringly. I asked him to make it a little less easy than this, and he apparently didn't even get that part. I'm pretty sure I even prompted him on it. I had hoped to see more of the Eduard Aleffea reported, not what I got. But then again, people rarely remain interesting when they get a clue who I am." Samuel looked at Maggie for a few seconds, eyes growing more intense. Something didn't seem right. When he spoke, there was something in his voice that wasn't quite possible to place and his eyes lost their intensity as quickly as it had appeared. "Is something bothering you? This meeting concluded much earlier than I scheduled, so I got some time to spare. If you want to talk, that is." Finishing her drink, Maggie waved a hand at Samuel's complaints. "You have my father's way of always finding fault. People are as they are and we cannot all live up to the Darius standard, or yours." She retrieved her shawl and continued, "I have much on my mind. The empire- but, perhaps I should dispense with that illusory word and only speak of Cyrodiil- Cyrodiil is in a similar state to the Dark Brotherhood within it. Poised on the edge of ruin or of a new beginning. I can no longer think of my own troubles, not at present." Glancing at him, she said, "But you should. You need nourishment. One of Tanie's girls may oblige you." "Nourishment was next on my schedule, so I'll take a gander and see if there is someone who catches my eye," he laughed, but it didn't last long. "I wish I knew how it felt. Me being so similar to your father, I mean." Maggie was silent as she donned her veil, not wanting to admit that since the upset in the palace, she had more than once wished that she could talk to her father and get his advice. For all his faults, Darius was a centuries-old hand at the politics of the empire, and the extent to which she relied on his training and input was discomfiting. To rob the Order and Cyrodiil of such a man, for my own selfish desire for freedom... She pushed the thought away and distractedly laid a hand on Samuel's arm as she made for the door. "Send me anything you hear about Jon Hard-Heart, or about the count of Cheydinhal and his upstart pretensions. Goodnight, guardian." "Goodnight, Maggie." He wasn't sure if she had heard him, but she'd know what he said. She was more intelligent than she allowed herself to admit. Not quite like himself or her father, only a handful of people could be counted as such, but she had potential, if she could only realize it. Samuel looked down at his hand as Maggie closed the door behind her. Something had prompted him to form it in a first, pressing his fingertips into his palm with force. Then he shook his head. He had work to do. If the Brotherhood was to return to Cyrodiil, he had to lay down some foundations for them to build on. Rumors about them having operated here for years already was one of them. *** The following morning, a messenger brought a velvet-wrapped parcel to the Merchant's Inn, with directions for it to be given to Eduard Laenius. Inside was a copy of Sons of Skyrim, Magdela Bathory's latest tawdry novel of war and romance. On the title page, in elegant script, was written: To Eduard, Where order and chaos meet, there is either war or passion. May we see no more of war. Fondly, M.B. Eduard awoke the next morning, extremely tired. Staying out the past night wasn't doing him any good. He exited his room, and decided that he was going to walk through the Market District. As he left his room though, he was stopped by one of the Inn's employees. "This package came for you." He took the rather extravagant package, and opened it once he returned to his room. It was a book, Sons of Skyrim. By the dear vampire girl. How nice of her to send this to me. I'll read it during my upcoming travels. Should be at least decent. And with that, Eduard placed the book in his bag, and headed out. He had a good day to look forward to.

Lorgar Grim-Maw Night Remains of Camp Rommulas My god what have I done.... Though Tamriel had places that could cause a grown man bitter chills, none rivaled the Falkreath battlefield, or " Rommulas graveyard" as the local nords called it. The sight of the infamous, or famous (depending on who you asked), Massacre of Camp Rommulas, this area's ground was covered in imperial blood. The 7th Cohort of the fourth legion, also known as the wolf pack was slaughtered by the elite "necro" nord unit of the Stormcloak army. Heavily outnumbered, the imperial's were cut down, with their bodies mutilated and left un-buried. Even today, you could see the remains of the imperial defenders strewn about the wasteland. Looters refused to go here, so rusty imperial equipment was scattered around the battlefield, along with shredded tents, remains of small buildings, and cooking equipment. All of the imperial dragon banners had been taken down, and buried in the dirt, where they belonged, so said the Stormcloaks The area's geography consisted of a dark, blackened tree's, along with an unusual and faint mist, that seemed to cloak the area. Even with the battle so recent, only a year, local nords had already developed a deep folklore of the graveyard. They say the veil between the deed and the living was thin in locations of great violence, and the locals said the graveyard was no different. Sightings of disemboweled, or beheaded, imperial specters were common, along with strange noises and strange lights. Howling could be heard frequently, wolves. Children ventured here on dares, and came back to their parents in tears...if they came back at all. Standing over two makeshift graves located in the northern part of the graveyard, was a nord, He was kneedeep in mud, with his broad arms downward. His features were drenched in moonlight, having fang-like teeth, and deep blue eyes. His hair was a dark brown, and he had a finely shaved beard. By his subtle facial expression, you couldn't tell if he was thinking anything. Deep inside, this man was drowning in his own darkness. His eyes were downcast, and his expression shadowed. His hands were trembling, So much death...so many sins...all caused by me. The nord, Lorgar Grim-Maw, remembered everything. Everything he did. All the suffering he caused. How he reaped life indiscriminately, how he dirtied his hand with innocent blood. He was...a monster. An abomination. Baldur was right, all of them were right. He had failed everything...everyone...he had become a monster, the very things he fought against. It wasn't Baldur's fault...it was his own. He failed EVERYONE. He failed his men, he failed the innocent he swore to protect, he failed his best friend...he failed his Empress...he wasn't worthy to carry the name "Grim-maw" or "Sky-wind." There's no way I can atone...no possible way...except... Lorgar glanced at his belt, and saw what he was looking for. A gold-ebony blade. He unsheathed the shortsword, and grasped the sword with his two hands. He merely starred at the blade for what seemed like eternity, taking in the fine details of the blade, its ebony blade as dark as the void, its fine-gold handle, it’s elegance. And imagined it stuck in a large body, covered in crimson. He pointed the sword to his own chest aiming for the heart, grasping the handle firmly, he was sweating heavily. But he knew what needed to be done, he closed his eyes. If you looked at his reflection in a mirror, you would see a normal nord. He would see a warped and twisted reflection of himself, a mirror reflects someone, shows them what they really are. Lorgar would see nothing but darkness and despair. This is my own atonement...for the sins I committed... there’s no possible way for redemption but this Lorgar opened his eyes, and steeled himself for the unthinkable, as he began to press his blade inside him. "What are you doing, child?" a voice of what sounded like an old man came from behind Lorgar. In that location was the form of an old man to match with the voice, wearing a fur lined coat that seemed too warm for the area that they were currently in. He had a long grey rugged beard, and long grey hair with two thick braids in his hair going back. He was sitting on the ground, cross legged with his eyes closed, yet was still aware of the old Legionnaire's presence. At the sound of the voice, Lorgar's hand's suddenly began to shake even more, starting with a slight resonance, to a deep vibrate, he slightly turned his head around, and his eyes twisted in utter disbelief and shock. In a slight whisper, he said, "Uncle...Storn?"! Storn sighed wearily, and shook his head. "So. It has come to this. After everything that has happened you have come to this point. Sit, Sky-Wind. Let us converse like we once did when you still walked the path of the All Maker." Lorgar turned his head away, closing his eye's slowly. He was debating with himself if he should,His entire body shook, as he glanced at the shortblade, almost mesmerized by the thought of sticking it inside him. He slowly, and warily said, "That...that wont change what I did..." "Will this?" Storn said simply. "I-" Lorgar, let out a grunt, he didn't sheaf or drop the blade, but simply held it out in his right hand. He went into a similar sitting position as Storn did, and put his arms to his side, still clutching the shortblade firmly. This was...impossible. Storn appeared to him like flesh and blood, he could see the fine details of his coat, and his snow-white hair was flawlessly corporeal to his vision. It had to be a hallucination, a trick of the mind. He faced the older skaal mans gaze. "Why are you doing this, Sky-Wind?" asked Storn, even though he knew the answer. "I..." Lorgar's face filled with shame and grief, especially considering the man he faced "I'm no good alive, I fail and cause suffering to everyone. Everything i've done...everything...Baldur's words were right, all of this is my fault. I didn't physically kill my men, I might as well have, I betrayed them...men and woman I swore to lead and serve. Those people in Bruma...what I did to them...I can hear there screams...there wails of despair...I....I..." He put his freehand to his face. "You had a sickness. Born from this blood you have. Of Hircine. This Baldur Red-Snow. I have observed you and him. You are both victims of strife, and war. And things neither of you can control. You made mistakes, and you have sinned. I will not dwell on them. When a hunter misses his shot, and hurts one of the All Maker's creatures more than is necessary for the kill to feed his family, he doesn't dwell on it, and wish he could take back the shot. He takes another shot, then quickly ends the creature's suffering." said Storn. He sighed again and the mist around them grew thicker as if in response. "It is wrong to kill any of the All-Maker's creatures without a good reason. Even yourself. Do not dwell on past mistakes. Waste of life is not redeemed by more waste of life. Instead ask him, 'What should I do now, to do good? What is your will?'" "What is his will..." Lorgar glanced at Storn, glanced at his blade, and then glanced at the two graves of his comrades, his brothers. Would they want this? Would the All-Maker want this? Would Hircine want this? Do...I want this... Lorgar eyes scanned at the dark blade once again, he had a choice to make. Live on, or kill himself. Fight on, or rest eternally. His sins were many, and many troubled nights awaited him if he choose to continue. The wails of the dead would never cease, he couldn't be forgiven...but maybe he could atone... NO, he violently shook his head, "Why bother...why should...I continue to fight. It's not like I have anyone to return to, my name is scorned by all.."freak" they name me. Nobody would miss me..." "Have you so quickly forgotten about Frea? She's a strong wise girl, but she would take your death hard, don't you think? As would the All Maker. Loss of life, does not fix loss of life. You ask if you should continue to fight. I will not try telling you not to fight. Your fire is too great, due to that accursed Hircine. But the All Maker is the All Maker. He made all things, and they all have a purpose. Just as we, the Skaal let nothing go to waste, you too should not let your life go to waste. If you must kill, do so to prevent more loss of life by those who seek to destroy what the All Maker has created. Atone. Perhaps the All-Maker placed this fire in you for that reason." Frea...sweet little Frea...she would...be devastated if I fell...Tulllius, as obnoxious as he is, would drink himself to death after losing me so soon after Marius's death...Milly... Lorgar's eyes filled with realization. He was married. Dear cute Milly. I...love her. She loves him. I...cant just leave her alone. She's so fragile... Lorgar's eyes looked at the sword layed before him...he glanced up to Storn, or whatever he was. Gripped the shotblade by the handle "Lose of life, does not fix lose of life...." He slowly took the blade to his chest, and let out a breath of air. He slowly put the blade down... and sheafed it. Storn smiled, as his eyes were still closed. But now he opened them, and as he did, the mist cleared some and he placed his gaze on Lorgar. "Loss of life...does not fix loss of life. Whether it is your own or another in vengeance. If you must take life, do so to preserve others. Sometimes a man must be a bear, even when he so desperately wants to be a deer. Hmm...I suppose in your case it would be a wolf rather than a bear." He returned Storn's gaze, which pierced Lorgar's soul. He saw what was boiling inside him, darkening his thoughts and corrupting him like a weed. His desire for vengeance. He wanted to kill Baldur, Boldir, hell, even Rebec. He wanted them to feel all the suffering he endeared. But if he did that, gave in to his darkest thoughts, how would he be any better then them? How would that bring his men back? The truth is...it wouldn't...it wouldn't do anything but cause more death... Lorgar realized what he had to do. "Let my vengeance go...be like a wolf, take life when needed to help the rest of the pack, do it without hesitation but without cruelty. Fight, to help others. not to cause death and suffering. That is the All-makers will" The nord whispered solemnly. Storn stood up, smiling more deeply now, and grabbed Lorgar's face, bringing his forehead to his. A tear rolled down his old weathered face, and his form began to fade. "Now, you see. This is the true nature of the wolf. The All-Maker has shown you the way." Lorgar could...feel Storn's withered skin, caused by decades of hard-work in the cold of Solsthiem. He could see the individual's wrinkles on his weathered face, the moisture from his tears. He...couldn't explain. The warmth and presences of this..thing felt like Storn. Was this really...a hallucination? He felt, sad for some reason. Lorgar had composed himself up till now...but something caused him to shed a single tear, and deep inside him, he felt like he needed to say, "Love you old man. Thank you for everything." Lorgar said, going up and hugging the fading apparition. "You too, Sky-Wind. Make me proud, boy. Make me...proud." Storn's words started to fade away along with his form. Before long, the old man was no longer there. Lorgar stood there for awhile, not noticing a single drop of water on his leather boot. Storn's visage had faded, leaving Lorgar alone in the graveyard once again. He stood up from the ground. He was done running. Whatever it was, hallucination or vision. Lorgar didn't care, he bowed his head in respect, and left the shadowed ruin, putting the past behind him and stepping forward.

Phew just starting on 1.6 I'll be going all the way to 1.11

Boldir, Karsh, Carlotta, Mila On the road, east of Whiterun Early morning Whiterun gradually grew farther and farther away as the carriage trudged through the muddy road. At least the blasted rain has finally let up. Boldir thought as he looked away from the city and back to the path ahead. It had let up last night, then ended for good this morning. Between the rain moving on, and the fact that they were finally on the road, Boldir's spirits were actually up. Riften awaited, and all of the nasty business in Whiterun was finally over. He glanced back to the city once more. Soon, the Battle-Borns would find his message, and hopefully that would be the end of the threats from them. Boldir turned and looked behind him into the back of the carriage, Mila and Carlotta were sitting across from each other, surrounded by several bags. Mila was drawing a picture on some parchment she'd brought, using some book as a makeshift table. Carlotta was reading her restoration spell tome, trying to figure out some healing spell. He smiled and once again turned back to the road. It was going to be a long trip, so he was glad that they all had something to do along the way. Suddenly, Boldir's gaze turned black for a second as he felt a force hitting him in the head. Then he felt the object go over his head as his gaze cleared. "What in the name of-!?" "Whoa!" he heard Carlotta and Mila shout in unison. Boldir spun around, war axe already drawn, only to see that the black object that had hit him was in fact, just a bird. A large black raven from the looks of it. The poor creature was stumbling around on top of their bags, apparently trying to stand back up after its crash landing. After a few attempts the raven managed to get up. Then it stretched out a wing which it looked at and then shook it's head before shaking the wing so that water drops flew from it. The raven then did the same thing with the other wing and then shook it's entire body with both wings outstretched to get rid of even more water. "Hey!" Mila shouted as the water was flung her way. She looked down at the picture she'd been drawing. The water the raven had shaken off ran down into the still wet ink, blurring it up and ruining her art. "Shoo!" she waved her hands at the bird, trying to drive it away. This caused the raven to look at the girl and stick out it's small tongue at her. Then it flapped it's wings as it did a jump up on Boldir's shoulder and he suddenly heard a voice in the ear on the side which the raven was perched on. "I have a... There's a message in the wagon from Buldur to a Boldor. The delivery fee will be a pound of finely roasted and sliced meat." Boldir froze up, staring ahead in silence. His eyes were focused on the bird, which he could just make out in his peripherals. "Did you just..." He wasn't sure what to say. If the raven hadn't mentioned, or at least poorly attempted to mention, Baldur and himself by name, his response would've likely been to grab the bird and snap its neck, then pretend like he'd never heard it speak. But if Baldur sent it, he'd restrain himself more than that. "Where did Baldur manage to..." After a moment, he had his guess. Who else do we know who could possibly have a talking bird? "Are you somehow related to Witchie?" The bird looked him curiously in the eyes and then reached out it's beak to the side of his head and spoke in his ear. "You mean boss? He made me like this. Anyway, flying through this weather was a pain in the feathers so I think I deserve that roasted meat. I'm hungry." "Uhh..." Boldir couldn't believe that an aviary courier was trying to get food off of them. Messenger or not, Boldir was tempted to knock the raven off of his shoulder and send it on its way empty taloned, just to get the unnatural creature away from his family, but if Baldur was utilizing Witchie's pets, and was willing to send this one to them, then the bird couldn't be as bad as would seem. His friend wouldn't send something dangerous knowing that it'd be around his wife and daughter. Finally, after several seconds of contemplation, Boldir turned his head and looked back at Carlotta and Mila. They had bewildered expressions that likely matched his own. "Carlotta, do we have any roasted meat for him?" His wife didn't move. "Him? Boldir... I know it's been a good while since you've..." She looked at Mila and stopped. She'd forgotten that her daughter didn't know about the voices Boldir used to hear. "You're talking to a crow." "What? No he-" Boldir froze in horror for a moment, worried that his wife was right and he was hearing things again. No, this was real. The Damn bird is sitting on my shoulder for Talos's sake! A normal bird wouldn't do that! "No, he spoke first! Didn't you hear him?" "All it did was make normal bird sounds, Boldir." He looked back at the bird, the way it stared back with those dark eyes slightly unnerved him. It didn't look any different from a normal raven. "Please," He whispered. "prove to them" and me "that I'm not losing my mind. I'll give you two pounds of meat if you do." "We got a deal, make sure to roast and slice it really good." The raven then flapped it's wings a couple of times as it jumped over to Carlotta's shoulder and spoke into her ear with his deep voice. "I'm Karsh. Your mate owes two pounds of roasted and sliced meat. I suppose you're the cook here so make sure to roast it slowly thoroughly in mead before slicing it." Boldir watched as his wife's eyes went wide and her mouth hung agape. Yes! He does speak! Now he knew why Carlotta and Mila had looked at him like he was crazy. When the bird spoke to her, Boldir heard it as the typical "Kaww" sound that ravens make. It seemed as though only one person could hear him talk at a time, or maybe they had to be so close to him. After a moment of listening, Carlotta's mouth closed and she nodded a few times. Boldir could tell that she was struggling to keep herself collected in front of Mila. She was doing a good job. "Uhh... We don't have anything prepared... We'd have to make a camp, and it's only morning. How... Err... How long are you willing to wait?" "All day. I could use a rest. Now do you have any soft blankets? I'm gonna take a nap. But before that I also want a snack." Carlotta nodded "Sure...", She was wondering how in the world she was actually coming to terms with the fact that she was speaking to a bird. Boldir seemed to know more. Maybe he could give an explanation. "What did he say?" asked Boldir. "That his name is Karsh, and he wants a snack and a blanket to sleep in while we ride." Mila, who had been shocked silent this whole time, finally spoke up now that she was realizing what was going on. "He's staying?" "He is for now. He's waiting for us to cook him a meal when we make camp." Boldir wasn't sure he liked the idea of this... creature staying with them for so long, but once again, he thought of the fact that Karsh worked for Baldur. The bird wouldn't likely hurt them even if it could, which Boldir doubted. "We aren't stopping until tonight." Boldir said back to them. Mila smiled childishly. Despite how much Boldir disliked magic, and how often she found herself coming to agree with what he said, Mila loved animals, and she couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect of a magical bird sharing their cart. Though she was disappointed that she couldn't hear him speak like her parents apparently could, but maybe she'd hear him too. She reached into a pack and pulled out a fur blanket. "Here, you can use mine." Karsh jumped down from Carlotta's shoulder and up on some bags till he could reach his beak to Mila's ear. "Good little hatchling. Now place that comfortably in a good spot and find the starving raven some snack." She did a poor job of suppressing her excitement when she heard the raven's low voice speak to her, and she was pretty sure that her mother saw it when her smile briefly broke out. After Karsh seemed adequately nestled in the blanket, she reached into a different pack and tore off a piece of bread. She tried to collect herself as she usually did by breathing deeply while she held out the piece for the talking bird to take. Karsh grabbed the piece of bread with his beak and dropped right in front of him where he began to tear off smaller pieces which he then gulped down. It was hard to tell, but the raven seemed pleased. Finally, Mila couldn't hold it in any longer, and her face burst into a ridiculous grin that made her look as young and childish as she had a year ago. Boldir wasn't surprised by how quickly Mila adjusted to this craziness. His wife on the other hand, still rightly seemed suspicious. An immortal witch, a werewolf... thing, voices, and a ghost... And now my family is talking to a damn raven. And I'm letting them! Boldir turned and looked at the raven nestled up in Mila's blanket. Karsh may be fine, but if I'm going to be any kind of protector to them I need to be more careful trusting things like this in the future. Though, what could a bird do to them anyway? He glanced at Carlotta. "You're probably wondering why we are harboring a talking raven." Carlotta still looked completely puzzled. "I was about to ask something along those lines, yeah." "Reach into that pack he crashed into. There should be a message." Carlotta did, and the letter was there. "He brought this?" she asked, gesturing to Karsh. "Yes. It should be from Baldur." "Where does Baldur get a talking crow? Never mind. Here." She handed over the message. It was pretty thick, as if it were multiple pages. That made sense considering how long it had been since Baldur had last written them. Karsh suddenly jumped up from his bed to Mila, as she was the closest to him, and spoke into her ear. And he sounded quite annoyed. "Tell your mother I don't like being called a crow, I prefer the term raven." "What's the difference?" asked Mila. "Crow is a term I find crude and generalizing. Raven is a more precise description of what I am." "Okay...I guess that makes sense." Boldir broke the seal on Baldur's letter before looking back at her. He didn't like the idea of him talking to her, with no way of Carlotta or him knowing what was said. "Mila, what is he saying to you?" Mila turned to her mother. "He wants ma to stop calling him a crow. He says he's a raven." "What's the difference?" asked Carlotta. "He says it's a more suitable word, and that "crow" is too crude." "Okay...Uhh, I'm sorry for calling you a crow Karsh. It won't happen again." After just a quick glance over the letter Baldur had written him, Boldir could tell that it would take some time to read it all. It was multiple pages, and appeared to be more like a journal than an actual letter.. He drove just a little ways further then gave a tug on the reins, halting the carriage. "Hey Carlotta." he said. "Would you mind taking over for a bit? I've got some reading to do?" Before Carlotta answered, Mila peeped in. "Can I drive?" Boldir looked at her questioningly. "Do you know how?" "Uhh-" Mila looked down. "No, she doesn't." said Carlotta. "But I'll show her. Come on Mila." They climbed out of the back and swapped places with Boldir. After he's settled himself into a comfortable position across the carriage from where Karsh was resting, he pulled back out Baldur's bundle of letters and began to read silently to himself. Dear Boldir, Hey, that rhymes! Dear Boldir...what else rhymes with Boldir? Fear, rear, heh, sear, smear, sheer, deer. Yes, I'm bored. Listening to Elisif talk about something or another. Won't get the opportunity to send this for a little while, so I'll be making this like a journal with you as the person I'm speaking to. Will make it easier when I have to copy this into mine anyway. This takes place the day before Rebec and I finally leave Solitude. Write you soon. Entry 1 First eventful thing that's happened since we left Whiterun. After we set camp, the forsworn attacked us in the middle of the night. We were outnumbered, but luckily Rebec's amulet detected magic, so I was able to set a little counter surprise of our own. Lost a few people, but it could have been worse. The forsworn even use little children to fight. They had this boy mage attacking us. Rather young. Wouldn't have stopped me from killing him though, if I got the chance. Pinned me down when he sent lightning at me. I was stuck distracting him by blocking it with my axes. Rebec's first mate Mazoga, a orc put a bolt in him as well as their leader. We may have had to do the same at some point if things escalated too far with the Imperials. Use children. I don't think I told you, but that was one of the orders I was going to have to issue if things got out of hand. Down to ten years and up in Falkreath. Kids like Mila. Glad I never did. Nothing like that Bear of Markarth crap in that Imperial propaganda book. I wouldn't have killed them if they didn't fight. Still. I was prepared to do it. We have to defend our land, but I wonder if I could have after meeting your daughter. It was a bad time. Wonder if the men would still call me hero if they knew that. Anyway, we were fine. Rebec had to fend off the enemy without me. She had some minor cuts, nothing serious. Every time I see them, I get a pit in my stomach. I wasn't there to protect her. To have her back. I guess the mage was the biggest target, but still. I wonder how much longer I can take having my wife come into battle with me. Boldir shook his head. He'd remembered encountering the Forsworn during his time in the Reach, but he'd been a part of a much larger force at the time, and those he'd faced been more of an annoying distraction than a true threat. When read of drafting children, he took a moment to think it through, looking at Mila up front trying to get her bearings learning how to drive the wagon. The girl was brave, as she'd shown at Silent Moons, but bravery wouldn't save anyone against real soldiers. Most kids her age would be slaughtered if they went to war. No matter how much he thought about it, Boldir couldn't justify it. They wouldn't have made a difference, and the Imperials had been destined to lose Skyrim from the start. Men had defended her for thousands of years. Children weren't needed for it. Then he thought for a moment, about how he'd have felt in Baldur's shoes. He needed to win. Everything was on him... And he hadn't known what it is like to have a child. Boldir paused in horror as he realized that he'd have actually supported this move less than a year ago. Gods I've changed... Thankfully. Has Baldur changed too since he saw how well we managed without resorting to that? Entry 2 We reached Markarth. First day, and we already ran into trouble. Rebec encountered a woman I was involved with. I used her to overcome my depression when I tried to see my mom there. I told you she was a Dibella priestess? Anyway, the girl, Hoki or Hjoki, Hroki that was it, they fought and Rebec completely demolished her of course. Hroki put up a fight, but it was quick and ended with her going through a table...You know I love seeing Rebec fight, hehe, but I couldn't help but feel a little bad. I had no idea the girl had any feelings for me. Didn't even know she lived in the place. Anyway, the guards came, and arrested Rebec even though she was defending herself. Hroki's family was friends of the damned Silver-Bloods. I was very close to killing one of the guards. Had my officer bear claw up to his eye. I was very very close to killing him, I wanted to. My anger. But Rebec forced me to let her go with the guard captain. You know why I reacted the way I did. Silver mines. It has a dark reputation. If anything happened to her, I was going to go to war with the Silver-Bloods, but now I'll settle for the guard Captain. No one messes with my wife. I'm going to put him on the streets and have him regret the day he ever met Baldur Red-Snow. Count on it. I got her out soon after. Lit a fire under the Jarl's ass. She was kept in a cell above the prison. Still took the Captains month of pay. Entry 3 My mother was...not what I expected, Boldir. I thought I knew. My father, her. All this time I hated the two so much, but they were nothing like what I thought they were. My mom is so nice, and I found out my father took me from her. She didn't abandon me. But I can understand why he did it. The men in the city that were with her in the past got to him. He asked her to stop being a priestess, but she didnt want to at first. She already stopped having sex with others when she got pregnant, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to leave the city. She had trouble agreeing, so he left without a word. They were very much in love before. Like me and Rebec. A lot of similarities between them and us came up. Rebec's nature always bothered me a bit, but Ysana helped me get past that too. Besides, I learned that Rebec and I have been with almost the same amount of different people. Just like a sailor to exaggerate their sexual prowess. Or a man, heh. She is a bit of a tom boy after all. Still don't like thinking about it as I'm sure she doesn't either with me, but I'm not gonna let it get between us. I didn't think I ever would, but I'm sure of it now. I don't care about that because she's with me and we have a connection. Still wish she'd be more subtle when talking about it... "frosting a sweetroll" came up. Done eating those now. Anyway after learning all this, I felt guilt for killing my father for the first time since it happened. The look on Ysana's face...the pain... She was waiting for him this whole time. I half expected her to draw a weapon on me, but in the end she ran up and hugged me when we were about to leave. That was the worst part, Boldir. I wanted her to hate me. To yell at me. But she just forgave me and let it go, because I was her child and she saw why it happened. So understanding. I hope to soon be able to understand such unconditional love one day. Although I suppose I do with Rebec, but with a child...I guess it's different. You'd know. Tell me about it sometime, Iron-Brow. Reading of Rebec beating the snot out of some girl Baldur had known left Boldir chuckling, and he'd had a hard time getting back into a serious mood for most of entry 2, despite the serious events of it all. Rebec was tough. Perhaps tougher than even Baldur gave her credit for. They'd all seen that firsthand down in Falkreath. She wasn't like Carlotta, who knows nothing of fighting. She could take care of herself well enough. Of course, Boldir understood completely. Even if Carlotta had been a better fighter than himself, he still knew that he'd react the same way if he and his wife had swapped places with Baldur and Rebec. However, by the time he'd gotten to entry 3, and read of Baldur meeting his mom, it was all serious. He knew how much this reunion must've meant to his brother. Despite all the time they'd known each other, Baldur had rarely spoken of Ysana, or what he thought about her. Like a lot of things, it never really came up. Entry 4 We left to find Toki today. We encountered some Draugr, but we took care of them. Got some rather cool armor that I'll have refurbished. Ancient Nordic. I wanted to get some for Rebec, but she said it was too revealing...hehehe, oh well. Nice try I suppose. Anyway, we found Toki's body, and I felt something I hadn't really felt before. Jealousy. I don't know why, since the man is dead. I suppose a man feels that whenever encountering your love's previous man, even if he's dead. Her reaction wasn't what I expected though. No tears, not quite sorrow, more...surprise? Like she saw a dead body for the first time or something. Wasn't what I expected but then again they didn't sound very close. That also angered me. That someone married Rebec and didn't hold on to her. Left her out to roam, but I suppose I should be happy of that considering us. When we left, we were caught in an ambush. The same bastard who arrested her. That fight....I don't know if we could've won, Boldir. We may have met our end, if not for the Orcs who came and helped. We spoke to them to ask for directions for Toki. They apparently helped only to avenge one of their own. Rebec was injured by an arrow slightly. I couldn't face my failure. I wanted to do horrible things to that guard, still do, and I don't feel bad about that one bit, but Rebec just killed him instead. When she did, I had nowhere to put my anger. I realized then that all this time, even with Reval, or the Thalmor, I wanted to hurt those people to keep from seeing my failure. It was even moreso with Rebec. I felt like I failed her as a husband. I felt like complete shit. She didn't see it that way, but its hard for me not to. If I lose her, Boldir...I can't go on. I won't. Still, this was a very humbling experience for me. The great Baldur Red-Snow isn't so great after all, despite what Ulfric and our men will say. I've never felt so low. But that's good. A leader can't lead without knowing he is flawed. My pride would have been my undoing. Still may be. Entry four had Boldir more captivated than any book ever had. Not that he was all that big of a reader anyway. He would've been surprised if Baldur and Rebec could've managed their journey without running into some fights, but Draugr? He shuddered at the thought. But there was one thing that he didn't understand. From what little he knew about Rebec's relationship with Toki, it didn't seem to be all that close of one. He was surprised that they went through so much to collect his bones. That must've felt strange for a for man in Baldur's position, to help his wife find closure with her previous husband. When he read of the betrayal, Boldir felt a fury begin to rise inside him, and for a brief moment, he wished he'd been there, to do his job and protect his shield brother. A quick glance at his family up front dispelled that though. Baldur and Rebec survived, and they hadn't needed him. I've got other people to protect now. Entry 5 Shor's balls, Boldir...my mother....what she did for Rebec...she had this elegant red dress on, and her hair was beautiful! She looked like a brand new woman! Her hands were so soft... Rebec was always beautiful, but damn! That night was wild. The Dibellans gave us this room with all kinds of potions, strawberries and honey, and such. I don't need no damn potions, but boy they helped a lot. Barely got any sleep the whole night through. Married life is good. Speaking of which, how are you and Carlotta, eh? Hehehe, I want details, brother! Oh, and one of the forsworn leaders we killed somehow came back from the dead. We were hunting some forsworn and we encountered him and a nasty hagraven. I know, don't say it. Called himself a briarheart. First time I heard of it, but he had a magic cone in his chest and I ripped it out and he died. The damned hagraven apparently did it. Gave it to Rebec as a trophy. P.S. The sex was awesome. Boldir was chuckling by the time he got to the hagraven. That stopped it abruptly. Ever since Falkreath, he couldn't think about those creatures without feeling extremely disturbed. That was one story he wouldn't likely be sharing with Mila... for a while at least. Entry 6 I'm almost afraid to write this, because I doubt you'll believe me, but if you believed the part about the briarheart, then maybe you'll believe this too. We saw Ness on our way to Morthal and Dawnstar....I think he's following us. He gave us this funky liquor that Rebec said was like Skooma from the effects. Made me uh...dream about Rebec...a giant Rebec. With giant boobs. Anyway, I can't tell you how pissed off I was to hear that she was in a damned skooma den. If she was passed out, she could have been taken advantage of, but apparently her brother got her out. She was depressed over her sunken ship. This is why her ******* husband should have been around more. Boldir didn't understand this entry in the slightest. Ness? Giant boobs? He looked up at Carlotta. "Hey honey, do you know anyone named Ness? It sounds very familiar, and Baldur mentioned him, but I can't for the life of me place the name." "Ness? No, I can't say I remember that one. Sounds elven though... At least I think it does. Don't really know all that many elves now that I think about it." "Maybe it is. Oh well, I'll just ask Baldur about it myself." The skooma den came to Boldir at a surprise. He was just learning more and more about his shield siblings. At least it seems to only have happened once. Entry 7 Boldir...I'm writing this while holding Rebec right now in Morthal. I wish I never left Whiterun. We met Toki's parents today. That was..."fun". She started bad mouthing Rebec and I had to put her in her place. You can imagine how that went. But anyway, after we left, I finally brought up children, and I learned that Rebec was drinking this potion to keep from having kids. The one she apparently used when she was about. I felt so hurt. I assumed that when we married, that meant she wanted a family. I thought this meant she didn't, and I was so afraid that one day she'd try to go back to the way her past marriage was, so I had to convince her to have kids right then and there. When I pushed, she ran out the room. I wouldn't let her leave me. I was desperate. And afraid. I followed her and ran out the tavern. She was crying. I thought maybe I did something to make her not love me as much anymore, but then she finally told me what the issue was. She already had a kid, Boldir. Jala. She died. I felt so lost. I was holding her, but I had to let go. I was so angry at her and sad for her and guilty all at the same time. For being jealous of Toki, angry at her for not telling me, and sad seeing how pained she was this whole time for the kid. Sad doesn't cut it. I feel anguished from all of this. I feel like I'm good for nothing. Just a replacement husband. I couldn't protect her from harm and I couldn't see that she was hurting. I caused this by pushing. I feel such a desperate need to protect her from everything, but I know I can't. And now I don't feel nearly as ready for kids. Now it feels like a duty to help her rather than a happy occasion. I still love her unconditionally. I just wish she'd have told me this since the beginning damnit! I feel so worthless Boldir. Here I am bitching over me, and Rebec lost a ******* child. Me hugging Mila must have torn her up inside. And Toki! That bitch, everything makes so much sense now. The way she is, she probably left off and went with those men, and sailed off to all these places to forget. And because that worthless piece of shit Toki wasn't there for her. And her family! If I knew this when his mother called her a whore, I would have done more than called her a bitch and told her to shut it. I'd have gutted the old bag right then and there. This daughter she had. As far as I'm concerned, she's mine, like you and Mila. I feel like I lost a child. I'm such a milkdrinker. All this crying I've been doing lately. I really really wish you were here. I've never hurt so much in my entire life. Not even in Thalmor prison. ... "You see those rocks ahead Mila? Pull left and go around them." Carlotta was proud of how well her daughter was learning. Mila was doing a good job of steering the wagon on her own now. She turned back to Boldir to see if he'd noticed the way Mila avoided the rocks. But he wasn't paying any attention. She noticed that he seemed to be breathing rather heavy, and the pages of Baldur's letter were wrinkled with how tightly he gripped them. "Is everything alright back there?" She noticed his eyes weren't moving. Boldir wasn't reading the paper, just staring at it. "What did you read?" Boldir shook his head and looked up at her. His expression was somber. "I should have gone with them. I should have left you in Whiterun where you're safe, and gone with them. I need to speak to Baldur. In person... Gah!" He slammed a fist into the side of the carriage, causing Mila to nervously glance back for a moment as well. Carlotta felt her stomach knot up. The thought of Boldir being so far for so long was not one she could imagine at this point. "Do you want to go to them?" He looked at her like the idea was ridiculous. "What?" "You know, go to Baldur and Rebec? In Solitude, or wherever it is they are now." He shook his head again. "No, no, well... maybe. This part of the letter must be weeks old though. There're still some more recent entries." She watched him for a minute as he stared down at the paper, apparently deep in thought, then finally shifted it to the back of the stack and began reading the next one. Entry 8 You...won't believe this. I barely do and I was there. I went to Sovngarde again. Don't know if you believed it the first time or not. Toki in my dream was apparently looking for Rebec, and the gods gave him me. Perhaps because I have a stronger tie to the place? Anyway, the meeting went about as well as you'd expect. I was close to killing him when he called Rebec "his wife". But I learned a lot. He tried to comfort Rebec over Jala, but she was just so distressed that she wouldn't even let him talk about it. I knew he was telling the truth because I used to have a hard time getting her to tell me things she was feeling, and she reacted the same way when I started talking about kids. She didn't want to be a mother in the first place back then, but she tried. And when the baby died, she just wanted to forget. It was all just a terrible circumstance. Like with my parents. I grew to forgive and even somewhat like the man, especially since I'm waaay better looking than him, hehe. Not to be vain, but I won't lie, that helped. But really he's not a bad man, he just did a stupid thing and let Rebec do her own thing. He thought thats what she needed to be happy. I'll never do that. I'll go sailing with her for the rest of my life if I must. Hell, I'll go to Oblivion and back, but I'll never let her go as long as I am faithful to her. She'll have to kill me first. I love her too much. Anyway, I know it was real because Toki told me to give her a blue mountain flower, because he used to and it reminded him of her eyes. I did this, and Rebec remembered. I told her this after we cleared some things up. I no longer care that she had a kid already. I wanted to share that with her and be a first of something in her life, but I was just happy to be with her now. You could have helped me a lot with that if you were here. I still wish you were, but thats just the way things are. She told me that I am her first, her first real love. She said she was too young to harbor real feelings with Toki. Can't tell you how happy and petty I felt all at the same time for feeling better about that. Felt bad for Toki, but it is what it is. He told me that he was just happy that she was now happy, even if it was with me, and to say that Jala was at peace and she was with him in a way. He could feel her. He did love her after all. I almost didn't want to tell her about Jala. I felt like maybe she'd want to be with him to feel her. My heart skipped a beat when he said Jala was there. When he said not physically, I've never felt so low in my life, because that was for me a relief, as I wondered what Rebec would do in Sovngarde at that point. I hate these feelings. So selfish. I told her anyway though. It made her feel good. I'm just happy to know that crazy Sovngarde dream or no, we would have been okay. And I'm looking forward to having kids again, not just to help Rebec, but because we'll be a family. This will still be her first real family, she said. And she's going to stop taking that potion too. And now I feel so much lighter knowing that I'm her first love. So we do share a first in something. And I got a letter from Witchie, saying that this amulet he sent me will let me summon his crow, so I can finally send these to you. Things are so good right now, Boldir. So damn good. You better not laugh at me. Normally I wouldn't be talking to you about all these feelings and what not, but I have to. Helps to write all this out. "Damnit Baldur!" said Boldir, causing Mila to laugh and Carlotta to look back disapprovingly. "What is it now?" "Sorry. My brother... I swear that this man is either blessed by the gods or crazier than a drunken troll!" "Have you ever seen a drunken troll?" "Actually..." Boldir stopped. "We'll save that story for another time. It's nothing compared to this: Baldur says that he saw Sovngarde!" Carlotta frowned. "Uhh... Didn't he say that last year?" "Uh huh. And now he is saying that it happened again." "Right...." Carlotta turned back around and whispered something into Mila's ear, making the girl giggle a bit. "Ma think's you're gullible!" laughed the girl. "Hey! I didn't say it was true, but you'd have to read the letter to judge. Trust me, if what he says is true, and I'm sure it is, Baldur definitely experienced something. Whether or not it was Sovngarde or some weird hallucination, he seems to have benefitted from it. I've still got one entry left. We can argue some more about it later." Entry 9 I met Rebec's father...what a character. He's not much for words, and he was a bit cold when I met him, but in the end he grew to like me. I like him a lot as well. First day, he tried separating me and Rebec by keeping me in the cellar, but I'm sure you can guess how that went, hehehe. We finally buried Toki, and I saw Jala's grave. I learned two things that day. One, all men are small and my natural jealousy of Toki doesn't make me a bad person, and two you can't force a connection with someone. I felt bad for being at the grave because I was happy to finally have this done. At the time I didn't want to admit that, or admit that I was tired of hearing about Toki, but I see now that I was, and this is natural. Rebec will always remember him, and that's fine. I'm the man she loves and that is all that matters. And as for Jala, she isn't my daughter no matter how much I want her to be. I used you as a guide, but I will never get a chance to know Jala like you know Mila. That's fine. I felt bad about being there, but Rebec pulled through and she was thankful for me to be there. That was enough. I don't need to force a connection with her child, I see that now. I feel sorrow, but its for Rebec mostly. And that too is okay. I can't expect to know how its like to lose a child when its not mine. I think Toki's words when he said what he and Rebec had was for them alone got to me. He was right, it is. And that's fine. It's not like I want to be her father because her father and Rebec have a bond only they understand. Me and Rebec have something that feels so right. That is for us, and us alone. That's all that matters. You can relate to that too, with Carlotta. Anyway, we started really getting into the baby making...hehehe! That was...otherworldly. It's so different making love for a purpose other than just pleasure, although there was plenty plenty plenty of that. We tried staying quiet, but I'm sure Vigge heard. But he didn't seem to mind strangely enough the next day. I still don't know if he was just trying to show us something, or if he just went along with it the next day since he lost, but either way he didn't seem to mind me anymore. The next day, we started talking about this story he told us, and it mentioned a King of old. A king they simply called "Witch King". Remember what I said about Witchie before? His name and age? I know I said I thought it was probably horker shit...but now I don't know. He's in Cyrodiil now acting as Court Wizard to Dales. He has some sort of influence with her, so he's basically the real one with the power. If he is that old, then he could be a threat with his power and knowledge. You know how ancient nords were with elves. Then there's the murder he did. Perhaps it sounds like a stupid worry, maybe just my new position making me see enemies everywhere, but you know me. I don't worry without a good reason. Still, my hands are tied with the Thalmor around, and it was either him and Dales, or Motierre. But I can't leave him unchecked for long. If he was once King, he could try getting his position again. We have to watch how much we use him. He's useful, but I have to be careful that doesn't make me forget that he's not one of us. Anyway, after Rebec and I left their sauna, we were caught off guard (and naked) by a gathering party. Apparently, Vigge and some ship captains got together to thank us for our role in helping to end the blockade. All those sailors around made me feel a little left out, but they were very friendly. Suri and her father was there too. Wasn't used to all that, believe it or not. More used to scared looks from town women from the Whiterun thing or angry shouts around Windhelm. Unless the people were Stormcloak supporters, or Dunmer. Even had some people call me a traitor or a greyskin lover, but that was mainly Galmar's brother and his little gang. Galmar fixed that real quick. Even our supporters seemed to be disillusioned with us. Glad to see people do appreciate all of our sacrifices. I told them about some of our war stories, you and me. They didn't believe a lot of it, but the legend of Boldir Iron-Brow is still known by sailors, and will likely spread, so don't be too surprised if you start hearing people tell tales of how you trapped the legionnaires and decapitated an elf with a head butt (Hehehe). Anyway, that's everything so far. I'll be sending this to you soon. Return the favor, hear? Things are fantastic. A baby will be on the way, I have a real family now, and Rebec and I are happy. I've got my mother back, another father, another niece and a brother, but I still need my first brother around. Hope to see you all again soon. Take care, Iron-Brow, and tell Carlotta to run over that Nazeem for me. Oh, and tell Mila when I get back she's gonna start drinking mead to celebrate her birthday. May be an issue with Carlotta, but Mila's a nord now as far as I'm concerned and she's of age. And also give her a big hug for me. See you soon, brother. The Ending of the words is REBBABO. Boldir smiled at the ending of the words. Twenty minutes ago, he'd been frantic with worry for Baldur and Rebec, foolishly thinking that they needed him there. But of course, things worked out in the end. They always did. He'd never admit it to anyone, but Boldir had been on the verge of tears when he read of Jala, and he wanted nothing more than to be there to comfort his brother, to try to give him advice. But Baldur figured out on his own all that Boldir could've told him anyway. It just took time. Now, reading of their happy times in Dawnstar, and the Red-Snows' desire to have a child put Boldir in a better mood than he could remember being in all week. If Karsh flew fast, his shield siblings would be arriving in Solitude soon, if they weren't there already. How long they'd spend there before setting off again was anybody's guess. But after all the two had been through, Boldir had no doubt that all would be fine for Baldur and Rebec. They were tough, and smart. And they had each other, just like Boldir had Carlotta and Mila. That's all it takes. Thought Boldir. We are all a family, and it's our families that give us our strength. All that they overcame is proof of that. "Hey honey!" he shouted up to Carlotta. "Have you ever been to Solitude?" She looked back at him, confused. "No, just Riften and Whiterun as far as capitals go. Why?" "What do you think of paying REBBA a little visit when we're done in Riften?" "REBBA? What do you mean? Rebec and Baldur? In Solitude? "That's exactly what I mean. What do you say? We could head there from Riften. It'll be a bit of a ride, but worth it. "YES!" Mila shouted. "I've heard stories about Solitude! It's built on a cliff, and all of the houses are as big as Dragonsreach!" He raised a brow at his wife, and she smiled. "I'd be for it. Do you think they'll still be there when we arrive?" "Probably. If not, you will still get to see one of the largest cities in Skyrim. I'd write them, but I'd rather make it a surprise. For now, a response to his letter will do." Boldir ruffled through his bag until he found some paper and grabbed Mila's quill. He propped the paper up against his knees and began to write. *** Eastern Whiterun Hold Dusk Boldir pitched a large tent while Mila read some book and Carlotta worked to prepare dinner, as well as Karsh's payment of course. The bird had slept, or at least, appeared to sleep, for the entire duration of the ride. Now, his two pounds of seared venison was almost done, and soon the bird would likely want to go on his way. After he'd finished with the tent, Boldir headed over to the wagon and knocked on the side. "You still alive in there, bird?" He a got some light croaking as an answer before he saw the raven jump out and sit on the edge of the opening of the wagon, looking curiously at the big nord. "I'll take that as a yes. My wife is almost done with your food, and I've got a message for you to bring Baldur. He should be in Solitude by now." Karsh flew up and around in a small circle before landing on Boldir's shoulder. "Solitude... I think I saw that on a map before. Is that the big town on a mountain arch?" Boldir wasn't sure what he had expected. Apparently, talking birds aren't as up to date on the locations of ancient capitals as most people are. "Yes. The big town on the mountain arch. Baldur will likely be around the big, blue-domed palace there at some point. If not, look where the soldiers are training. He may be with them." "Now about that food..." Karsh asked slyly. Boldir nodded, and with Karsh still on his shoulder, he headed over to the campfire, where Carlotta was turning the spit with several pieces of roasted venison on it. Boldir drew his axe and cut off a sliver from one, then tossed the piece up in front of his shoulder for Karsh to catch. Karsh caught the food midair without much problem and proceeded to gulp it down. "That's good meat. Maybe a little bit more mead." "Don't push it." "Fine, fine, fine. Slice up a pound of meat and put it on a plate. I'm starving." Boldir looked to his wife. "He's ready for a pound now." "Alright. Give me a minute and I'll fix him up some." Carlotta backed away from the fire and wiped her brow. "Here," said Boldir, noticing how tired his wife was beginning to look. "I'll do it." "Hey Karsh!" It was Mila, sitting on the ground outside the tent. She was looking up from whatever book she was reading. "Can I talk to you for a second?" Boldir looked reluctant. "Mila, I don't want you talking to him more than-" "It's nothing bad, I promise! I just have a question." Boldir shook his head and went back to cutting up the venison. "No, Mila." Karsh whispered into Boldir's ear. "Why not? She's fun to talk to. And I don't carry any diseases or curses. So what are you afraid of?" "Well for one," Boldir whispered back, "you're a talking raven who works for a powerful mage. One who I've watched kill scores of men without raising his own weapon, and has questionable morals at best." "You think boss would care about me talking to a kid?" "I wouldn't have thought you boss would've cared about killing a random carriage driver, but he did that... No, I don't think you're a threat, but you're certainly not normal, and so I have no idea what you'll do. I can't take the risk." Carlotta listened intently, which is easier said than done when only one end of the conversation can be heard in a human language, and the other was being whispered. "I think you're overreacting, love. What reason would Karsh have to hurt her?" "I don't know! I don't know anything about him at all!" "What's the worst he can do? Peck at her? He's a bird for goodness sake! I know you're protective, but she's not helpless." "... Fine." I made her that dagger for a reason, I guess. Boldir looked over at Karsh, still sitting on his shoulder. "You can go talk to her." Karsh spoke into Boldir's ear. "I'm a raven, unless boss say something, I mostly just eat meat and collect shiny trinkets and like being lazy." He then flew up and then landed on Mila's shoulder waiting for her to speak. Mila grinned and looked over at her parents. "Thank you!" When she turned to Karsh, she spoke quietly, so the Boldir wouldn't hear. "I've been wanting to ask, but didn't want to wake you. How did you learn to talk?" "Boss taught me. He used magic to put words into my head and an understanding of their meaning. Then he tried multiple approaches to infuse me with magic to make me talk. Took a few months but now I can talk with one person at a time. I don't know magic, but that's as far as I understand it all." "Your boss taught you? And he's a mage, right? Does that mean that, if I was a mage, I could teach an animal to talk? Talk like me that is." "I guess. Though you would have to talk to him if you want any details on the magic." "I don't think Boldir would like that." Mila looked down at her book again. It was written by Herbane, a famous author who traveled around Skyrim recording, detailing, and hunting the wildlife. Most of the books were about the dangerous creatures like Ice Wraiths, trolls, and Hagravens, but this one was different. It was about all of the more passive creatures found in eastern Skyrim, and basically just gave a picture and a quick description of each. "Not that I'd become a mage anyway!" she said quickly. "I was just curious." "Become a mage if you wish. If you do, you can cast shiny spells." "I don't care about casting shiny spells." she insisted. "I was just curious about making an animal talk...You said it took months. It didn't hurt you did it? When your boss did the uh, the ifnus- no err, infusan... whatever that was you said! When he worked to make you like you are." "It didn't hurt, most of the time. But that was mostly because he didn't know it would hurt and thus didn't cast a spell to dull the pain." "Oh, that's kind of sad. So... Do you like what he did?" "I get finely roasted meat and more opportunities to get my talons on shiny trinkets. Beats flying around looking for insects and half rotten carcasses." The girl's face twisted in disgust. "Bleh, yeah I'd bet so." "Hey!" It was Boldir, calling from by the fire. "Got your food over here!" On the ground a few feet away from him was Karsh's payment for the long flight: a pound of chopped venison, laid out on a piece of gray cloth. Instead of speaking, Karsh made a short intense croaking before flying off Mila's shoulder and down besides the pile of meat which he greedily and savagely started to feast upon. Boldir turned away and began to help himself to his own share of the cooking, but Carlotta let out a whistle as she watched Karsh devour his meal. "Hungry little guy eh?" "That makes two of us." said Boldir from the fire. He sat down on a nearby log with his own food and began to follow in Karsh's example. Seeing her husband eating pulled Carlotta away from the funny sight and to the fire, where she fixed up something for herself and Mila as well. Before too long, everyone was full and ready to begin settling down. But before Boldir could, he headed over to Karsh with his own message for Baldur. The lazy raven had resettled in his makeshift nest in the wagon. "You aren't already going back to sleep are you? What happened to heading back tonight?" Karsh gave him a short croak before jumping up of the small bed and onto the edge of the wagon where he flapped his wings once as he made a jump to Boldir's shoulder. "I like taking naps after dinner." "Well, do you still plan on leaving tonight?" "I'll leave when you give me the letter. Just make sure it's tied up properly, I won't take any responsibility for unfolding letters that then get caught in the wind and fly away." Boldir held up two envelopes. Each had a name on it. "This one is for Baldur. The second one goes to Whiterun. The city we were leaving this morning. You don't have to speak to anyone. Just drop it off in front of any guard who's near the big keep at the top of the hill. Can you do that?" "Sure, drop the second letter into the head of one of those people with helmets near the big tower. Got it." "Good. Carlotta left your second pound of meat wrapped in that same cloth over by the fire. Eat it, take it, I don't care. It's yours." "Hide the meat bag in a tree, as high up as you can. You're tall, you should be able to get it up quite high for you people." Boldir nodded. "Will do." "You know, you people are much nicer than Baldur's cursed mate. She keeps threatening me and wants to bake me into a pie." "I can't honestly say that similar thoughts haven't crossed my mind. Like I said earlier, I don't much care for oddities like you that I know nothing about. Especially around my family." Boldir looked back at his wife and Mila. They were now in the tent, Mila was once again drawing, and Carlotta seemingly was commenting on her artwork. He turned back to Karsh. "But bake you into a pie? No, I'd never do that. Can't imagine raven tastes particularly good." "I don't get why people are worried just because I can talk. I'm still no less of a raven and people aren't that afraid regular ravens, now are they?" "You talking is strange, no doubt." said Boldir. "But it's not your ability to talk that I'm cautious about. You're different, unique. How can I know that your abilities stop at talking? See where I'm coming from? Don't take my caution for hatred. You've been useful, and Mila seems to like you quite a bit for some reason. That's good enough for me to let my guard down at least a bit." "I said that I don't carry any curses or diseases. And I can't cast spells either. You ever seen a raven that can cast spells?" "No, but I'd never seen a raven who could talk before today, either." "True. But I still can't cast spells." "And I believe you. I'm probably a fool for that, but you seem safe enough. That's why I let you talk to Mila, and I let you hang around us all day. Can't say I'd grant most strange humans I meet on the road the same privilege." "See, I'm a very charming raven. Now how about that tree over there?" He pointed towards a half broken oak tree with a small opening with his beak. After spotting the point on the tree Karsh referred to, Boldir walked over and picked up the meat bag, then reached high to place it up in the small opening about eight feet off the ground. "There, now only the birds and bears with a half-decent sense of smell can get to it." "Cover it up with some leafs too and we're good to go." Boldir was already halfway back to the wagon when Karsh gave the order. "I don't know if a raven can lift a pound of meat, but I'm pretty sure you can move some leaves on your own." "Fine." He then flew off towards the broken tree and started to pick leafs that he covered up the meat bag with. As Karsh did this, Boldir headed over to the horse that drew their carriage. He was currently tethered to a tree on the opposite side of the fire from the tent. Mila had given the thing a name, but he hadn't bothered to remember it. Boldir didn't have much experience with horses. He'd ridden them in the army, and as a youth in Shor's Stone, he'd shoe'd them. But he was not used to having to feed or care for animals. It was only Karsh's concern for his own food that reminded Boldir. So as the raven worked to hide his meat, Boldir got together some apples Carlotta had brought, Horses like these right? and tried to feed the beast. A few minutes later Karsh came and landed on his shoulder once again. "Done. Now lets get me those letter and I'll be off." Boldir turned from his horse and pulled out the two envelopes. "So, do you prefer these tied on your legs, or around the neck? I know some birds carry different ways." "Just tie them up and I'll grab them with the talons. I hate dangling cargo as that makes it harder to fly." "Alright." Boldir tied the envelopes into rolls and held them up for Karsh. "See ya. And do me and all other ravens a favor and raise you kid to not be like Baldur's cursed mate." the raven then grabbed the letters and flew off to the northwest. "I miss him already." Carlotta's sarcastic tone made Boldir chuckle as he turned around to face her. "I guess he wasn't as bad as I'd made it seem." "You were just being protective. I understand, and so does Mila. It's better to be over-cautious than careless." "Speaking of which, we've set up camp just off the road far from any city, and with no nearby towns. You know what that means?" He didn't wait for an answer. "It means that bandits could very well get the jump on us tonight if we aren't careful." "What are you saying?" "I'm not going to sleep. I'll be on watch overnight, and you and Mila can drive again in the morning while I get some rest." Carlotta looked nervous. "No way! I'm not having you stay up all night without sleep. You haven't slept all day. What if you go for four or so hours, then I take the rest of the night?" "And if bandits come on your watch? You gonna burn 'em while practicing your restoration?" The joke was more than worth the light punch on the shoulder that it earned him. "... I'd feel more comfortable being on watch myself. That way, I'm already prepared to deal with anyone, and won't be groggy from waking up. Don't worry, I've gone without a night's sleep before. You go ahead and sleep in the tent with Mila. I'll get my sleep on the ride tomorrow." "Ugghh, fine." Carlotta gave Boldir a kiss. "Just promise me you won't go talking to yourself while we're out, alright?" After returning the kiss, Boldir looked his wife in the eyes. He hadn't forgotten that when he'd first seriously heard voices in Falkreath, he'd been very tired at the time. "I won't. That took days. It's already beginning to get late. I'll be getting my sleep tomorrow." After Carlotta was in the tent with Mila, Boldir headed over to the campfire and stomped it out. Now, the only source of light in the camp came from the moons and stars. Next, he headed over to a tree at the edge of the camp sight and crouched down beside it, where his back was to it, but he could still see the tent, horse, and carriage very clearly. Better try not to get too comfortable. he thought. It wouldn't do to end up falling asleep while on watch. It's going to be a looong night.

Jon- Outside of Dawnstar, Afternoon Perched up in a tree, Jon patiently waited for his associate Lex to arrive. Lex was one of the more experienced members of Jon's group, and was a man that Jon trusted. For those reasons, he was the third highest ranking member next to Eduard and Jon. He was responsible for making sure that all jobs were completed without incident, and keeping Jon informed of the groups status. While I'm away anyways. After about ten minutes, Jon finally heard footsteps coming from some nearby bushes. He quickly made his way towards the bushes, as he was eager to get started. He approached the man, who Jon confirmed to be Lex. He purposely snapped a stick, not wanting to surprise his associate too much. "Lex." "Jon," Lex replied, turning around to reveal a moderately scarred face. "What news do you have for me?" "Mostly good news. Sal was successful with his work in Chorrol. He is currently waiting for his next assignment." "Good. We'll get to new assignments later. What else do you have for me?" "Dev and Ria completed their scouting assignment without incident. Other than an unrelated scuffle with a group of extremely low-tier bandits. As you might guess, all ten bandits were killed. No injuries on our side." "Fine by me. If they were foolish enough to attack those two, their deaths were coming sooner or later." "Agreed. Dev can scare me, and we're friends." "He certainly has an intimidation factor as far as appearance goes. Not as mean as he looks though. But he's just as strong as he looks. Anything else?" "Colin almost had an incident with that retrieval assignment. Kara helped him slip away before anything happened though. All other jobs are pending." "She's always been one to help out the newer members. But Colin needs to realize I don't expect, or even really want Kara to have to look after him." "I agree. To his credit, Kara did say he probably could have gotten out of it himself. She just didn't want to take the chance." "That's why she is where she is. Calculating risks is among the most important part of doing what we do. Now, is there anything else I might want to know before I move on to new assignments?" "Not really. Although I did hear Avon Lenth met his end in Whiterun." Jon raised an eyebrow. "Did he now? That's moderately surprising. How did that happen?" "He was axed by the commander of Whiterun's guard. I heard he tried to kill his wife, or something like that." "Commander... Boldir, right? I don't know much about him. He was a Stormcloak, that I do know. And obviously he has a great deal of skill, or Avon was being sloppy. Probably both. Ever since that line of work I found for him ran dry, he hasn't been as crisp. And that's what happens when you get sloppy." "Yeah, I guess. Maybe we should take revenge for him?" "Absolutely not. The commander did nothing wrong. Guards put down criminals. That's how it works. You don't wanna get killed? Don't get caught." Lex nodded, forgetting he and Jon had spoke about a similar topic before. "Now, I've got some assignments, some information for the group, and a letter to be delivered to Eduard containing the same information. Everything is to be kept in the group. I will silence any offenders myself. It's that important." "Understood. So, what do we got?" "First, assignments. The first one is for Sal," Jon said, handing over some papers. "The second one should be handled by a three person team. I would recommend Dev, Ria, and Kara. It's pretty difficult. And here's one for you. I want you to take Colin though. Experience is a young mercenaries best learning tool." "For sure. Now, what is this news?" "The new group. The Bloodwolves. They aren't to be trifled with. Not because they are better. In fact, the only thing they have on a group such as ourselves is numbers. And their higher ranking men are above average, skillwise. No one who I think any of you couldn't handle one on one, save for Wraith. And their leader is supernatural, not to be messed with. But I don't want any trouble with them. Unless they step on our own territory, I don't care what they do. But under no circumstances are any of you to affiliate with them. I don't care if your closest friend joined up with them. It is imperative we watch their progress from the sidelines. Speaking of this news, make sure this letter gets to Eduard. Do not open it. I figure you already know that, but I need it to be clear. Eduard is currently in the Imperial City, from what I understand. If he's still there, you'll find him. If not, you'll still find him if you take this route back to the city. It's the route he uses." Lex stuffed the last letter into his satchel, along with the map of Eduard's route. "Understood. I'll get back as quickly as I can." "That would be best. Take care of yourself. The same goes for the others." "Bye Jon." Jon didn't say anything, disappearing towards Dawnstar. A bag of gold was on the ground where he was standing. Lex grabbed it, before beginning his trek back to Cyrodiil.

Skjari/Witchie, Dales Imperial Palace Evening Dales Motierre lay in her bed, her body covered in bruises and other injuries. She could of course, just use her magic to heal herself in an instant, but that would be tiring, and she didn't want to feel more tired then she already was. She was dressed in her sleep wear, a blood-red night gown. She was drooling, and you could only tell she was alive by the loud snoring. Her maid, Raine was busy preparing her clothing for the morning, doing it in utter silence, not wanting to wake her mistress. Suddenly she heard someone knock on the door and before she could even respond the door opened and in came the court mage. He looked tired and took a seat in a chair near the corner of the room and looked to Raine. "Leave us." Raine bowed her head, and left the room in a instant, she looked back at Dales in worry, but continued out of the room. Dales was apparently a very heavy sleeper, so she hadn't been awakened yet. Though she was starting to stir. Skjari waited a moment, deep in thought, before noticing that Dales was asleep. He walked up to her bed and noticed some of the bruises and put his hand on her shoulder, channeling a healing spell as he shook her gently. "Dales?" Dales woke up with a yawn, her blue eyes opened up, to surprise. She lightly stood up, the bottom half of her body still lying on the bed. She stretched out her arms. "Huh..." It took awhile for her eyes to adjust, but when she did she was still confused, "Master? Is that you?" "Yes." He backed a couple of steps before turning around walking back to the chair and sat down. He drew a sigh and then looked at her and spoke. "We're getting married." "Oh okay..." Dales went back to sleeping on her pillow, before her eyes opened up in shock, and she stood up, "WHAT? We're getting married?!" "Yes. I've been split about it but I've just talked with Maggie. She says it's for the best. You need to marry and if you marry a weak fool it will only harm the crown's reputation." Dales looked at him with extreme confusion, before rubbing her eyes, "So...I'm really getting married to you, master..." She chuckled, "The puppet master finally taking control." She sighed, "I understand. My weakness is becoming a liability, you need to take control personally. It'll be for the best." "It will also give you a better opportunity to learn how to run a kingdom. I'm also not going to ask you to have sex with me. All I'm asking for is for some smiles, hugs and kisses in public to maintain the image that we're not unhappy or have a schism between us." "But what would the elder council think of this? A nord on the Ruby throne." She asked with concern. "What are we to do about them? I've already pissed them off to no end with my constant defiance, this will enrage them. They wont stand for this." "They'll be pissed either way. I can maybe even get a somewhat fresh start with them. Probably not. But lets wait and see how they react. We can use Tiber Septim as an example if they get too loud on the matter. I'm also going to be a descendant of an ancient nord king, I can dig up some of my old stuff back home and present them as family heirlooms to help prove it. Royal blood and all that." "What about General Theodore? By doing this, we can be losing a very important ally, whose continual cooperation is vital to High Rock remaining part of the empire...I doubt you replacing Roland is going to be favorable." She looked away, with shame and her cheeks becoming a deep shade of crimson. "This is all my fault, I've forced you into a position that you don't want do you?" "Well with the instability we got we can safely say we most likely just saved his boy from a coup and beheading. If he values his son's life he would be smart enough to realize that. And I may not really like the position I'm about to take, but I desire the blood of the Dominion, if this is what it will take to get it. I will do it." He chuckled briefly, trying to sound cheerful but sounded stoic instead. "At least I can send you to the boring and pointless meetings." Dales gave him a tired smile, "Mister Motierre, eh?. Shall I be a good wife and nag you to keep up your health? Or maybe I can call you a pedo for marrying a girl thousands of years younger then you are?" "You are not pre-puberty. And honestly at this point I doubt my age matters much is that regard, especially when I can keep a prime body of someone mid- to late twenties." He sank down slightly in the chair. "It was a joke..." She tiredly put her hand to her face, "When will the wedding be?" "I'm a bit too tired to get jokes right now. And the wedding will be soon. First we must make some preparations and try to prove my lineage of royal blood. It will depend on how fast we must act, a week at least, a month at most." "Alright." Dales stretched out her arms, and tiredly yawned. She put her hand on Skjari's shoulder and said, "I'm sorry I failed you master." "And you should stop calling master." "But that's what you are, I am you puppet and dagger, you wield me. You are my master." She said solemnly. "But it wont sit well with the public." She smirked and winked at him. "Then shall I say "Honey-pumpkin" or "dear"?" He smiled slightly, honestly amused. "Definitely not 'honey-pumpkin'." She grabbed his arm and contuied her smile, "Well then...Honey-pumpkin, were shall are first date be?" "Are you honestly making an invitation?" He looked at her with a little surprise in his eyes. She laughed, and then said, blushing slightly. "Ummm....master. I...don't think being married to you will be...bad. Despite all the people you bed, I know your not the man to force himself on a lady. And I think you'll treat me properly." She continued, her cheeks becoming even more crimson. "What I'm trying to say is...I love you. But not in that way." She turned around from him, not wanting him to see the embarrassment. "What do you mean? And I thought you said you didn't like men." "Meaning I don't want to share your bed. And no I don't like men in that way. But...you're the father, or brother, I never had. You treat me well...you don't do anything bad to me." She said, with her face on the other side of her pillow. "I love you like that." He drew sigh. "I honestly don't know what to say about that." "You don't have to say anything." She said, "As long as you control the Ruby throne, nothing matters. You can use me in any way you please, as I said, I am you puppet and dagger. You can use me as you see fit. If you need an heir, I'll give you one." He straightened his back before leaning forward in the chair, putting his elbows at his knees while looking down into the floor. "I don't want children." "Then how do we solidify your claim to the throne without an heir?" "I'll... figure something out. For now we can start with me joining you in training with legion, establish that I'm not a stranger to war." "I...don't think the High-general would appreciate that." "Why not?" "You would be...overstepping his perceived authority, and I don't think you two would agree on the training methods." She smiled weakly. "I wont be overstepping it. I'll act as your and his subordinate." "Then I suppose it would be fine." She yawned tiredly, and said "If you wouldn't mind, honey pumpkin, I'm very tired...." As she lay her head on her pillow. "As you wish." He got up from the chair and made his way for the door. "Wait master..." She said tiredly. He stopped at the door with the hand on the door handle. "Yes?" "Do you...love me. Or am I nothing but a puppet and a weapon to you?" She said, her face not visible, and by her voice, her only being half-awake. "Good night, Dales." He said as he opened the door and carefully closed it behind him. A figure was waiting for him outside of the door, with her hands crossed and her body leaning on the wall. She had starlight silver hair, and deep blue eyes, it was the royal spymaster, Lilly Quentas, she said in a quiet voice. "How is her majesty?" "She's tired." He replied calmly. "Not a surprise, with the way Tullius's treat's her in there "training" sessions." She said the name with venom. "I'll talk with him and see to it that it's more training and less beating. But I guess you're here for more than commenting on Tullius's training methods." She smiled coyly "You asked me to go to you immediately if I had any solid information on my brother in-law." "So what did you find out then?" She took out a sealed document from her chest area. She unrolled it, and began to read from it. "Solitude Guard report....blah blah...in honor of his glorious majesty...blah blah blah...wanted criminal, Lorgar Grim-maw engaged a certain General Baldur Red-Snow, and General Brund Blah blah blah. Thought them to a stand still until they had no other choice to summon reinforcements." Her face grew a little paler after reading the second half. "Grim-maw underwent a very disturbing transformation. Becoming a...creature. 10 or 11 feet tale, extremely muscular, wolf-like, dark claws, black fangs, blah blah blah, glowing red eye,. Held...it's own against the guards and the elite necro nord unit, only managed to kill one, but injured about a half a dozen of others before fleeing into the night. Blah blah blah, General Red-snow ordered for Stormcloak soldiers to be deployed into the forest to look for him. None found anything." "So the he's gone nuts and turned into a werewolf monster. Great. At least with their eyewitness we can now add beast of Hircine to his list of crimes. Spread the word." I miss Alduin, he may have been more powerful and arrogant, but he was sane. "Yes, milord. Though I don't recognise what classification of lycantropy he is...I've never...heard or seen about something so vile. " She stopped for a second before walking away, and turned around, "I also managed to dig up some information on Dales favorite...play-mate. Homunal Akney. The sweet girl from Sky-Shade. From what my spies tell me, her family supported the Aldmeri Dominion during the Great War, and only avoided a beheading from the locals because they managed to cover it up. Just a warning, I doubt she'll be a good influence over Dales, regardless of her innocent appearance." "I never liked that she got Dales to dress up in those bruniikke clothes either. I'll make sure she wont be able to have any private discussions with Dales again. And I would ask to put an eye on the family as well, if you can spare the resources, so consider it a low priority." "Eh..." Her face grew slightly worried, "If I may be so bold milord, I recommend caution instead. Dales...doesn't have to many friends, or at least friends she can interact with on a daily level. Taking away one of her only ones would be...bad for her psyche. Especially in times like this when stress level is at a maximum. I think we should just be careful around her, have a agent trail her once and awhile. Nothing drastic." "I just want a guard or some agent nearby whenever they are meeting. But still no more bruniikke clothes." She chuckled and smiled, "Nordic? I dont know the meaning milord, forgive me." He smiled back. "Look it up. A hint: it's not a language of mortals." "Now your just playing hard to get." She said coyly, She turned around "As much as I would love to seduce you , I'm going to try and convince my stubborn sister to give up on her husband tonight." "Just don't start any long lasting family feud." "Too late." And with Lilly turned around and walked away. I hope it's only with her sister. He thought as he made his way back to his quarters through the silent corridors of the palace.

Jon Hard-Heart/Tullius Morning Hard-Heart's camp "General! General!" Jon was walking through the tents, throwing the occasional glance at the White-Gold tower. His plan seemed to be working so far, but it was a gamble. There was a few people who would decide it all. If he could get them on his side, he'd have a chance at success. Granted, this assumed that whoever it was who was really pulling the strings of the Empire didn't make the wrong move. If he chose to deal with him rather than the riots and Cheydinhal or the southern border, it would all be lost and Cyrodiil would be open for another attack. If he didn't, hopefully his plan would increase their chances in the next conflict. The Council and the nobles of the Imperial City were too much of a liability, so he needed to get them out of the picture. "General!" Hayn's scarred hand found itself on is shoulder, making him turn around. Was there a place he didn't have scars? No, wait, he didn't want to know. "I need to talk to you." "Sure, Hayn, but I'm not a general anymore. Just the leader of this band of warrior." "Whatever,"Hayn brushed his objection aside. "Look, the count of Skingrad has left for Skingrad again. I think he is out as a political ally for the time being. He's not going to be of much help from his own city if you're going to fight the Council." Hard-Heart looked around. He could only see his own men, but there could still be someone listening in. With a gesture for Hayn to follow him, he made his way out towards the water. Anyone within ears range would have to stand out in the open, and he made sure to almost whisper. "I'm not fighting the Council. It is a distraction, meant to create just enough commotion to keep them busy. The Empress and Tullius acted admirably predictable, not waiting long enough to antagonize them. I helped, of course, not making a secret of the idea. Now there are riots in the south and Cheydinhal making noise the Throne cannot ignore. Dales Motierre's behavior since she took the throne has done me more favors than she'd imagine." "If you're not going after the Council, what are you after?" Hayn seemed confused. "Pale Pass. Specifically the southern parts of it. We both know the conflict with the Dominion is coming, sooner or later. However, with the recent strain between Skyrim and Cyrodiil, I think it might be a good idea to get Chorrol and Bruma politically independent from the Imperial City. Work out a deal with Skyrim, based in trade or something, that will also serve as to ensure Skyrim has a path into Cyrodiil when the fighting starts. Given the history of the Empire, I don't trust them to make the pragmatic decision. Especially not now." "So you never intended to do anything in he Imperial City?" Hayn looked a bit pale. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Because I thought it best to pass on this information on a need-to-know basis." "So why are you telling me now?" "Because," Jon smiled. "I'm sending you to Bruma. Do what you can to convince Balgruuf the Greater to support our goal. Make sure to tell him that I'm not interested in ruling his county; I'm just trying to put together an alliance willing to do the right thing to ensure Cyrodiil doesn't have to stand alone." "Yes, sir. And what about you?" "Me? I'm going to have a talk with Tullius." ** Tullius was up to his ears with training the new recruits in the first legion. He didn't trust anyone to do it, this was his job. The training grounds were quite large, easily able to accommodate over five hundred legionaries and there trainers. This batch was going very nicely. Many orcs and Nords from Bruma have answered the call of the legion. "General! A word with you?" Jon walked up towards Tullius, gesturing for him to meet him halfway. "HALT LEGIONARIES." As Tullius shouted those words, all of the recruits halted there current activities, as Tullius walked towards Jon. He spoke in neither a friendly nor hostile voice, "Yes Jon Hard-heart? Is there something you need?" "A word with you, Tullius. In private." He glanced around, before nodding. He shouted, "Trainers, take over." They saluted sharply, and went back to there exercises. Tullius leaded Jon to an out of the way building, his officer. He opened the door, and took a seat on one of his leather chairs. He signaled for Jon to do the same, "Yes, what is it?" "And you're sure this room is private? I've met individuals who make me think twice about that." Jon took a seat, but started to inspect the walls of the room from where he sat instead of looking at Tullius. "I already asked a mage from the synod to look it over, it's not bugged." "I'll take your word for it then," Jon didn't look convinced. Leaning forward, he spoke in a low tone that Tullius could barely hear. "I apologize for the deception, but it is high time that I let you in on my actual plans in Cyrodiil. I'm sorry that I had to make you sort of a frontrunner for the anti-Council opinion in the Legions, but I had little choice. I play at a much larger game than the Council. Cyrodiil needs allies, and I wouldn't trust the leaders in the Imperial City to do that part well." Tullius's eyes twisted into a fox-like impression, "I've already been the frontrunner for anti-council opinion in the legion for a dozen or so years. But you have my attention, tell me about the truth then? This alliance we have with the Stormcloaks isn't an alliance, there going to try and have us take the most damage and try to keep the empire in a weakened state. I can see threw Ulfric's deception more then anyone else in this blasted province. Dales is blinde by her naivety, that the stormcloaks intend for us to remain in the mud. Tell me something I dont know." "I'll tell you what you already know; Cyrodiil cannot stand alone. You're going to need allies and there is a country in full preparation to fight the Dominion on our northern border. What would you rather be? Stuck in the mud, or in the grave with what is left of the Empire? If I cannot secure the passage from Skyrim into Cyrodiil, your chances of standing alone increase and your chances of success dwindle." Tullius sighed, "Once the dominion is taken care of, we can focus on rebuilding. So until then, your right. Skyrim is a grim necessity. Do what you need to do." "I'm glad you've yet to lose the pragmatic sense. For a while I was worried you'd let your hatred of the Stormcloaks out on Cyrodiil," Jon smiled, still talking in the same low tone. "For now I think it is best that you don't mention this to anyone. We need to wait until the Throne is busy with the riots and Cheydinhal. And don't worry, I have no intentions of handing over any land to Skyrim. If my plans work out halfway decently, they'll still be client kingdoms of the Imperial City." "Bruma? Count Balgruaf is a good friend of mine. I'll let him know your arriving." "And, if I can, Chorrol. Both are important in securing Pale Pass." "You very lucky you came to me then, i'm very good friends with Countess Quentas, and her daughter, Milly Quentas." Tullius said with a chuckle, "I can arrange for you two to meet if you do head up there." "Good. It will make things a lot easier. I have my man Hayn leaving for Bruma very soon. Could you arrange for your messenger to travel with him, using the excuse of him being extra protection? Should buy us a little time. Once I get the chance, I will make my way to Chorrol. But everything hinges on this plan remaining on a need-to-know basis. If the wrong people find out, and they will if you tell anyone you don't have to, a man named Samuel thought me that lesson, it is over and Cyrodiil will likely have to stand alone." "I'll send one of my mercenaries, someone I can trust, with your man, then. And about me being quiet, mom's the word" Tullius stretched his arm out, "Tell Dales off was both good and bad, I think you opened her eyes to the truth of the situation and she's progressing very well in her training, on the same Tolkien you pissed someone very important off." "And what is this important someone going to do? Kill me and possibly antagonize much of the Legion in a time of riots and civil unrest? For now I should be safe, hopefully long enough to get out of the Imperial City and to Chorrol or Bruma." "Dont underestimate the person you pissed off. Sources tell me he's much more dangerous then he appears." Tullius got out of his chair, and went passed Jon, "I'll let you find your own way back, I have legionaries to train. Good luck Jon." And with that, Tullius's left his office. "And don't underestimate what sort of powerful friends you make when you show you're not taking [censored] from a puppet," Jon mumbled to himself as Tullius left. He wasn't sure if the man had heard it, so he remained in his seat for a while. When nothing happened, he got up and started to make his way towards his camp again. Now let's see if you're as good as you say you are, Samuel.

Mila Iron-Brow Silent Moons Camp Night "Heaaaaaaah!!!" The scream rang in Mila's ears, bouncing from one end of her skull to the next. That, coupled with the trickle of blood drooping down the bandit's greaves, made this one of the most horrific parts. All thoughts regarding anything but that scream and that blood ceased. She couldn't speak, she couldn't move. She never realized it at the time, but she wasn't even breathing. The girl stood there, wide-eyed and frozen like a statue, sweaty palms gripping the hilt of her wooden sword like her life depended on it. Towering above her was a large bandit, fully decked out in thick steel plate armor and holding a sword that glowed white like the moons. Not that all of this equipment did the man any good in the end. Her wooden sword going straight up to one of his few unprotected areas proved that well enough. Now, immobilized with the shock of what she'd just done, Mila found herself not thinking about how she should run, but instead ended up focusing on her heartbeat. Each rapid thud felt like a blow to the chest, and the sound of it seemed amplified. The screaming bandit jerked to the right, and his head turned, just enough for his peripheral to spot her. Their eyes locked, but the sound of her own heartbeat blocked out whatever the man was now shouting. The pained expression on his face was replaced with one of blind fury. He is going to kill me. The bandit would not get the chance however, as before he could finish turning, a large fist crashed against his face and took the bandit clean off his feet. She felt a tug as the toy sword she still held out came free on its own, its tip bloodied. The man's body had been forced off of it. After the bandit fell, the rest happened quickly, as it always does. Boldir was on top of him, bashing his teeth in with his axe. She could see the blood coming from his mouth, the thudding of her heart and the ringing in her ears blocked the screams of pain from the bandit as well as those of fury from Boldir, but when the large Nord turned his axe around, and began driving the blade elsewhere, the bandit turned his head onto its side, and his eyes met her own, both this time. The face was the same every time. A look of complete horror and pain covered what could've been the face of a handsome man. He had bright blue eyes, even brighter than Boldir's, and light brown hair with beard that was neatly trimmed. Of course, the beard was stained with red, and most of his teeth were now missing. The look of agony he wore made Mila want to look away, but she couldn't. Mila stood there, knowing that this face wasn't going to leave her. It never left her. The frozen girl's eyes widened though, and a jolt of fear shot through her, when the man's mouth twisted into a bloody toothless smile. Despite not hearing anything around her, when the man's lips began to move, Mila understood what he said plain as day. "This is for you." Even though the bandit spoke, it was Boldir's low voice that she heard. It was uttered as a soft whisper, but there was something to the way he said it. He sounded angry, or determined. Mila wasn't sure, but for some reason it frightened her. Now, the bandit just stared at her, still smiling as the axe slashed at him more times than it should have. After a moment of this, he spoke again, but in a different voice. It was deep and unfamiliar. Even the accent was one that she was pretty sure she'd never heard before. But there was more to it. She could hear it, but at the same time it felt like it wasn't really there. "Mila. ... Wake up child. You have company." ~~~ "Aaah!" The girl jolted up in her bed and immediately reached for her sheathed Lunar dagger on the nearby countertop, but instead clumsily knocked it over the side where it hit the floor with a thud. She took a second to look around and realized that her room was empty. She realized how staggered her heavy breathing was, and tried to calm herself a bit by inhaling deeply and trying to slow it. "Just a dream." she muttered, even though she knew it wasn't entirely true. The bandit's face was still with her, as it often was. She'd had the dream many times, and it was almost always the same. Though something about it this time... The voice! Mila realized. There was a voice at the end. She thought back, trying to remember what it had only just said to her, but even as she tried, Mila could feel it slipping away, and then it was gone. Oh well. She shrugged and stood up, not really looking go back to sleep yet. Instead, Mila opened her door and peeked out. The rest of the house was still pitch black, and her mom and Boldir were almost certainly asleep. She backed into her room and picked up her dagger from where she'd knocked it over. Mila wasn't sure why, but she felt an urge to go outside. Maybe to get some fresh air into her lungs. The girl wrapped a belt around her and secured her dagger's sheath onto it. She then grabbed a thick fur coat and draped it around her shoulders and, silent as a fox, crept through the house. Once she reached the front door, she slipped on a pair of her mother's thickest boots before heading out. Mila almost opened the door when she remembered how loudly it creaks and went out the nearby window instead. Despite her coat, the night air was brisk, and the long skirt of her nightclothes did little to protect her legs against the cold. It took Mila a moment to realize that the rain had stopped, which was especially strange considering it had been raining virtually nonstop for over a week now. She was glad of it. They were leaving for Riften tomorrow, and she hadn't looked forward to the prospect of riding in the heavy rain. The ground was still wet, and she had to watch her step to avoid soaking her mother's boots in deep puddles. "Mila?!" The voice came from the street to the right, but she knew the owner before looking. It was her close friend Lars Battle-Born. She turned and saw him standing just beside her house, on the other side of the wall from where her room was. The taller boy looked surprised. "How did you know I was coming?" She tilted her head. He was coming here? This late? "I didn't. I was just stepping out for some fresh air." "Through the window?" "Yeah..." she tucked one arm under the other. "I didn't want to wake my ma." The boy looked at her through squinted eyes. "You don't need to hide it from me. I know that you're following your dad." "What do you mean? Boldir is in bed." "No he isn't. He left almost an hour ago. I saw him head down towards the front gate." Mila was surprised. She wasn't a heavy sleeper, and bad dream or no, she usually woke up when someone left the house. Especially when they use the front door. "I promise Lars, I just woke up. I had no idea that he was even awake." She stood there for a minute, wondering why the boy looked so grim, when she realized something. "Wait. Why are YOU here?" The boy looked like he'd just snapped into reality. "Oh yeah!" He looked around the street, then back at her. He still looked odd, like he was confused and worried. "Let's go to the back. We may get spotted out so late here in the street." She nodded in agreement then led him around to the back of the house, where the two sat at a table that had recently been set up. There wasn't much to see in the backyard yet. Her mother had started a garden, but it was currently empty due to the fact that they were leaving tomorrow and it wouldn't be tended. Other than that and the table, there was an archery target that Boldir had set up near the wall. One arrow was buried near the edge of the target, but a half dozen more were strewn around it, stuck in the grass. The girl noticed that the longbow was broken in half on the ground near the table. She didn't mind. She was never able to pull back the string anyway. "Sooo..." she said to Lars after they'd taken their seats. "Why did you need me so late?" "Because..." The boy definitely looked worried now. "Because you can't go on this trip to Riften!" "What?" Now Mila was beyond confused. "Why not?" "I-I don't know... I went to Olava again, alright!? She said something!" Mila groaned. Now it made sense. Years ago, Lars had gone to visit Olava the Feeble, an old woman who lived alone in a shack at the bottom of the hill who claimed to be a seer. She'd told him something vague and dumb that could apply to almost anyone, and he'd taken it as fortune reading. He'd gone back several times after, despite Mila telling him that it was a bad idea, and he never seemed satisfied with what he heard. Mila had never spoken to the woman. Her mother had told her for years to avoid her, that she was a liar. ​"Look, I know you don't believe that it's real-" "I know that it's not real. People can't see what is going to happen. Besides, it does nothing but make you worried." "Listen Mila, you've said this before but-..." He scowled. "You know, I don't know why I'm even doing this! You won't take it seriously. And after all that you people have done..." Mila had no idea where the sudden hostility came from. She hadn't seen Lars in a while, but they hadn't been on bad terms. "What do you mean "you people"? I didn't do anything! I don't even know what your problem is!" The scowl remained as Lars studied her, looking into her eyes to see if he could find truth in them. "Would you cut that out?! The staring! It's creepy." Slowly, the boy's frown faded. "You really don't know what happened yesterday, do you?" "Obviously not." Lars looked sad now. Not his usual whining and crying sad, but something more mature. Mila couldn't place why, but the boy suddenly looked older than she remembered. "I can't believe... That's why your parents have been keeping you away from me and the others." "What? They did that because I'm in trouble. Come on Lars, what happened yesterday? What's wrong with you?!" "Your... My fath-... Look, I don't wanna talk about it. Okay? It has nothing to do with what I came to tell you." Mila could see on his face that he meant it when he said he didn't want to talk about whatever had happened, as if it hurt him to do so, so she decided to drop the subject, and even hear her friend out on his "fortune telling". "Alright. What were you gonna tell me?" "I came to tell you not to go on your trip. Get your parents to call it off or something. Anything! If you leave the city, I think something bad is gonna happen. Olava said-" "That's ridiculous Lars! And why was she telling you my future anyway?" "It's not ridiculous! Just trust me, okay?" Mila frowned. "Lars, why was she telling my future?" "She was telling your future because... I asked about it. I needed to know all right? I needed to know if we could still be friends after what happened." Mila's brow knit. What happened that could make him wonder that? "Please Lars, don't involve me with that woman." Mila didn't want to admit it, but Olava frightened her. She didn't believe in omens and fortune telling, but this woman either could do it, or could fool people into believing it. Either way, she wasn't a safe person to be involved with. Still, Mila's curiosity was beginning to kick in. "So... what did she say?" Now the boy looked grim again. A look that Mila doubted he could've pulled off half as well a week ago. "She said... When my friend leaves the city, she will be part of three, but one will return." Mila shook her head. Ridiculous. "Lars, you really need to stop seeing her. It makes you worry over nonsense." "But what if it's not nonsense Mila? What if it's true?!" "It isn't. People can't see the future. She says these things to you that can mean different things and you think they come true. Remember when she said you'd become powerful? You're rich already! And when she warned you that someone close would get sick. You know a lot of people and it was an ill season. Of course someone ended up getting sick! One of us will return, and then the other two will as well. You see how she works?" Mila had been given this same explanation by her mother. It had been scary the first time one of Olava's "fortune tellings" came true for Lars, but when her mom had gone into detail and explained it all, Mila realized how dumb this kind of thing really was. "You may be right..." "I AM right." "But what IF-" "Lars, that's enough. I'm going. My mom has wanted to go for years, and so have I." The boy looked defeated, but certainly less worried than before. "Alright... I guess... I guess I should get back home then. Be careful Mila." The girl nodded. "I will." It was minutes after Lars had left before Mila finally got out of her seat. She unsheathed her dagger and held it up in front of her, causing the blade to glow a bright white. The moons were hidden behind clouds, but that didn't stop the blade from glowing. She gave it a few play swings, causing the light to dance around in front of her. When Mila was done, she headed back into the house. Once she'd closed the window behind her, she put the boots back where she'd found them and headed to her room. She began to take her jacket off as she entered, but as she did, she heard something nearby. Mila froze, her arms in the air and her jacket halfway over her head. Now that she was unmoving, she could definitely hear that someone was in the room, breathing. Her mind instantly flashed to the terrifying face of that bandit from Silent Moons and she felt a tightening in her chest. "What were you doing out there Mila?" It was Boldir's voice, much to the girl's relief. Mila finished taking off her jacket and tossed it aside. Boldir was sitting on her bed with his arms crossed. How had he gotten into the house without me hearing it? Then she realized that she wouldn't have even noticed the door opening if it'd happened while she was talking to Lars. "I was just talking to Lars. He wanted to talk before I left. That's all, I promise." Her stepfather looked anxious, but when she said this, he seemed to calm down a lot. Though this did make Mila a little curious as to where he'd gone when Lars saw him heading for the gate. "So, how was Lars doing?" The way Boldir asked the question was strange. He sounded concerned for her friend, like he already knew he was not doing well. "He seemed weird. Like something had happened to him, but he didn't want to talk about it, so we didn't." "Huh..." Boldir looked deep in thought. "You have a good friend." He rose from the bed and crossed the room to the door. Before he could head out though, she grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Hold on!" He turned and looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. "I- uhh..." I need to tell him. He will know what to do about it. "Lars told me that something bad could happen to us if we go to Riften. He said that Olava the Feeble told him that we wouldn't all come back." Mila could tell that this caught Boldir completely off-guard. "What? The Fortune Teller lady said that?" "Lars says she did." Boldir got down in front of her on one knee. "And what are your thoughts on this?" That surprised Mila. She wasn't used to being asked what she thought on important matters like this. She'd figured that Boldir would immediately give his own opinion. "I don't know... I don't believe people can see the future. Mom says that even the gods can't, but..." "But it makes you nervous anyway." "Yeah." Boldir put his hands on her shoulders. Even on his knee, his head tilted down slightly to look at her. "Mila, you and your mother are the two most important things in the world to me, and I will do anything to keep you out of harm's way. Some old lady's ramblings of what she says is the future won't stop that. But know that we don't have to go. If this trip makes you uncomfortable, we can cancel it here and now." Mila shook her head. She'd wanted to go on this trip all along, and there wasn't anyone more capable of keeping them all safe than Boldir. How could I let that woman's words scare me? I've always said she was crazy. "No, no I want to go. Some old woman isn't going to scare me out of this." He smiled. "Alright then. You're the boss." For some reason, that smile comforted Mila more than anything he'd said before. Boldir wasn't afraid, and he'd lived far longer and been through much more than her. If he could smile in the face of some senile lady's "omens" without worry, then so would she. Mila smiled back, then embraced her stepfather in a hug, burying her face into his cloak. As she did, a smell hit her. A fowl one that she recognized from back at Silent Moons. It immediately brought the image of that bandit back into her head. She pulled back. "Gah! What is that smell?!" "Smell?" Boldir looked confused for a moment, then a look of realization crossed his eyes. "Oh! You must mean on my cloak! I've got to wash it. It's smelled this way since I wore it to the Lunar Forge to make your dagger." "Oh, I see. I thought you wore your armor when you went there though." "Right, I did most times. Only brought the cloak once." Mila nodded. She hadn't paid that close attention at the time anyway, and easily could have missed it. He shook his head tiredly. "Anyway, I'm off to bed. We've got a lot of riding ahead of us, and it'll probably be uneventful." "Goodnight D-... Boldir, could you please not tell Ma about Lars and Olava?" The large man's smile became all serious as he rose to a stand. "I'll take it to the grave." He smiled one more time. "G'night Mila." Boldir yawned and headed out the room, closing the door behind him. Now alone again, Mila let out a yawn of her own and unbuckled her belt, not bothering to take the dagger off of it, and dropped it on the floor right next to her bed before plopping down herself. She fell asleep before she even thought to pull up her fur blanket. This time, there were no dreams.

Maggie, Samuel, Skjari Imperial City afternoon After leaving the empress and Jon Hard-Heart, Maggie made the rounds of her brothel contacts, asking particularly about the general and his legionnaires. By arrangement with Alef, she joined her with a client so that she could restock her blood supply. In the middle of the night, she returned home and spent the morning writing. Finally she had to set the quill aside. There were things to do. She headed towards Samuel's house. "Intending to pay me a visit, are we?" Samuel appeared out of the shadows, giving her a slight bow as he did. "I fear the house is empty at this hour. Rorek is still out on some errand of his." Maggie wasn't surprised to see Samuel anticipating her moves. Coolly she said, "You found me, at any rate. I'll also wager that you already know what I came to see you about." "Aren't rhetorical questions and statements fun? I think so," he smiled and gestured for them to go in the direction from where she had come. He was still clothed in commoners clothing, though it had been cleaned recently. There was years since he had been in the city for more than a week or so. "The General. The newly arrived one. Yes, I heard you bumped into him recently. What do you think of him?" "Has quite a temper. Not unusual for a Nord. This one's got an army behind him, or so they say. When last I left him, he was going to speak to the empress and didn't seem at all concerned about the protocol for asking an audience of her." "Not like it matters though," Samuel took the route into one of his favorite alleyways. It was dark, quite so even at day, but if you could see in the dark one could come to appreciate some of its hidden beauty. Even beggars gave the place a wide berth, if they could. He really had to look into why that was sometime. "She has to play his game for a while yet. He's the first one to actually take steps in dealing with the Council with his soldiers getting involved in this. If they split apart now, Dales' days are numbered. She was never fully accepted to begin with." "The perception of power matters a great deal," Maggie countered. "Dales has the power, if she wanted, to send the man to the gallows. He doesn't appear worried. What do you know of him? Are his men loyal?" "With recent developments, the perception of Dales power has waned greatly. Antagonizing a former Legion general because he spoke his mind and no proof of treason against her... I assume you see what I see in this situation. This Hard-Heart should be safe for a while yet. If he proves incapable to act fast, he'll be dead before long." They passed down the alley for a couple of minutes, before it split into two paths. One led back to the city "proper", the other one into a small little garden that had just sort of formed there. Weeds were common, but once in a while, the few times he was here, he stopped by to clean some of it out. He gestured for her to make a choice; the little garden to the left, or out on the streets to the right. "He's mid forties or so, fought in the Great War and later became a general. I remember some of his ancestors back in the days of the last Uriel Septim. One was the Master of the Vvardenfell Fighters Guild chapter and the other a Legion Knight and commander. I hear he still has the old Templar armor. Nothing relevant comes to mind though, there is preciously little known about his plans that isn't common knowledge by now." Deep in thought, Maggie instinctively walked into the garden. "He's obviously not a fool, and you don't challenge an empress on a whim. Dales' succession was always precarious. I think challengers have not acted until now because they assumed she was as dotty as her father and might have the same fondness for spontaneous rounds of executions. In retrospect, it might not have been a bad idea to encourage that fear. We cannot afford any instability, however mild." "Someone should have told... oh, who was it again?" Samuel playfully acted dumb for a moment. "Every Emperor since Tiber Septim with a very short list of exceptions. I've seen it all unfold in my life; the Empire was never all that stable. Infighting, instability and conflicts over who got to sit on the throne of Cyrodiil was pretty common. Sometimes I wonder how it would have gone without the Covenant with Akatosh and the whole Dragonfires deal. No, I think I have an idea of that too; the Empire lost pretty much every province and now Cyrodiil is a political clustercluck of people I wish I didn't have to deal with. Present company excluded, of course. Your father and I have spoken in the past century of secluding ourselves for a time, but so far he has put it off the time table. He might be more of a patriot than I am. Then again, I don't know what he saw in his life before the Empire was in place. Colovia wasn't a pretty place those days." The line about her presence was delivered with a little twinkle in his eye as he carefully touched one of the plants that had sprung up in the time since he was last here. It was deep violet. Strange, he had never seen nightshade in here before. Maggie glanced at Samuel, uncomfortable with this mention of him in her father's closest confidence. "Still, you can't say this isn't an unusual time. It was the instability after the Oblivion Crisis that led to the Thalmor coming to power in the first place. And now we have a powerful and implacable enemy who will be thrilled to exploit any sign of weakness. Is there any sign that Hard-Heart is on a Dominion payroll? Someone must have bankrolled his exile." "My reports say he ordered every Thalmor justiciar killed in their sleep before he left as a final act, so I doubt they enjoy each others company. But you talk as if you know something about his goals I do not. Has he expressed anything that states that he has aims for the throne? Best I figure, his goal is the purging of the Council, thank the Gods." "Under what authority? That is the task of an emperor, though the Council's charter forbids such actions even from the emperor. If Hard-Heart doesn't intend to challenge Dales' rule, he's certainly comfortable usurping her rights. Dales will have to act or show herself as weak, and things can escalate quickly from there." Maggie sighed and paced a little, not enjoying the wild little patch of green as she otherwise might. "What do you know of his personal life? Married? He hasn't been frequenting the brothels, as far as I could uncover." "Thus far he has been involving the Empress on his plans, so I don't know what to make of it, other than that he has no signs of being interesting in the throne. If she doesn't antagonize him, I see no reason for Dales to be weakened more than she already is. Then again, I've only witnessed six hundred years of Cyrodilic politics, including the War of the Red Diamond and all that brought, so what do I know?" He let go of the nightshade. He wished he had some time to properly make this place clean of weeds. As relaxed as he almost always appeared, there was rarely any time off his job. "Unmarried, but used to frequent brothels in his youth, like almost any soldier after a war. He might have a bastard child or two somewhere in Skyrim or High Rock, but nothing more than speculation on my end. It might be a surprise to you, but except from his status as a general and impeccable family service to the Legion, I know nothing about this man. So far, he's been a Legion man his whole life, from he was of age to train with his father, up until this day. So he is either a worthy adversary in my own field, fooling me completely, which I highly doubt, or there was never anything important to know about him before he started making waves recently. "He didn't sound like he was acting on Dales' behalf when he spoke to me. He said that he intended to clean the Elder Council chamber, as if it were his idea. In truth that is above even an emperor's authority, as Amaund used to complain about, bitterly. Every emperor wishes they could rid themselves of the Council. It more often goes the other way around." She studied Samuel. "Very well, if you are unconcerned, then we'll keep our ears to the ground, as the saying goes." "He also didn't tell you I warned him about the Bathory family, I assume. Though, I'm fairly certain that this warning would go unheeded once you turn your charms on him. Depending on how literal your probing will be, I think that wouldn't be too much of a problem." Samuel started to walk out of the garden, gesturing the countess to come with him. He had noticed that Maggie didn't seem to be comfortable here, so why not walk some more? "I'm not without concern for this new general, Maggie dear, but he is far from the only concern. And measured against some of the other ones, I rather have him than them. The court mage is someone we will have to deal with in one way or another. Regardless of how much you enjoy his company, I don't trust him to remain friendly to us when he doesn't have to. Your new friend has given me no reason to think he is a threat to us unless we take the side of the Council." "'Deal with' how? Thus far Skjari has proven a good ally. I certainly don't see a reason now to antagonize him. I haven't spoken with him yet about this matter, though, so perhaps he is the one directing Hard-Heart's actions. Why did you warn the general about us? That seems rather counter-productive." "A good ally? Perhaps. We were doing just as well before he arrived. No, I don't trust him, he seems to be too interested in claiming as much power as he can for himself, and what better way to do so than to try to expose us? It would make for great propaganda. Until he proves to be more than a fair weather friend, I don't trust anyone with that much power. Hard-Heart I could handle, but your friend at the palace knows too much and holds too high a position." He led them out on the street. Only a guard here and there could be seen, in addition to some of the people furthest down his network, working the streets. No one that would bother them. "It is a- how shall I explain it? It is a little complicated... I guess- plan of sorts. Make him act without trying to involve you or your father too much anytime soon. I'd prefer to let my adopted family deal with one major issue at the time. Darius has already declined to support the group right away, though I cannot say for certain regarding his future plans. Of course, I have talked to him and told him that getting along with the Bathory family is a good idea. Just- ah, to make it easy, just read the warning he was given for yourself." Jon Hard-Heart Beware the Bathory family S Maggie glanced at the paper and handed it back. "We are involved, whether we wished to be or not. I wish you hadn't done that. I would just as soon have had the man as blind to us as we are to him." She walked a few moments in silence, considering what this seeming double dealing meant. Putting the thought aside, she went on, "Of course it's bad timing, but if it is a challenge to Dales' rule, then it would've come sooner or later. I should not say we were dong well after Mede's assassination. That's why I was called back here and subjected myself to Amaund's tender affections. Nor has Skjari tried to consolidate power for himself, or he would have dissolved the Council even though I warned him against it. He gains nothing by exposing us. We give him what he didn't have- political support in the nobility- and everyone knows I am his mistress. It would reflect poorly on a court wizard indeed if it came out that he'd let himself be seduced unawares by a vampire." "It would indeed, but now that you have your homework for the time being, I'm changing the topic a little," Samuel smiled at her. "I heard your father is leaving the city in a couple of days, just so you know. If given the chance, you should probably try to get to know this Hard-Heart soon, before we start planning your promotion tour." With a bow and a goodbye he disappeared into the shadows. "Sorry, but I got to dash. I have a few things to take care of that can't wait. Goodbye Maggie, I will see you whenever you need me to." Maggie stared after Samuel, puzzled and annoyed, then continued on, in the direction of the palace. A royal guard told her that there had been a meeting of Dales' privy council while she was gone, which had recently broken up. Maggie headed in the direction of Skjari's study, hoping to find him there. The door to the study was slightly open and Maggie looked in to find the court mage sitting behind his desk with the head leaning with the forehead against his right hand. He seemed to be deep in thought as he had an empty stare in his eyes. Strangely enough the dragon statue at his desk seemed to mimic him as it was standing on the blue crystal and holding up it's right wing to support it's leaning head, but as soon as Maggie had taken a step inside it jumped down form the crystal and quickly covered it up with the wings while looking at her like she was a possible thief. Skjari dropped the empty stare and glanced at her for a second. He dropped the hand straightened his back as he spoke. "I guess you've already figured out the trip has been postponed." "I gathered." Maggie went around the front of the desk, studying him casually. She paused to wonder if Samuel had tried to undermine her with Skjari as he seemed to have done with Jon. "You had a privy council meeting. What is going on?" "Dales is having a bit too much trouble ruling the realm. I was trying to fix some of the problems. Also trying to figure out hat goals this Jon fella has. I think I have a good idea about what his goal might be." Maggie sat down across from the desk, glancing with a half-smile at the dragon, then leaned forward and asked, "What is his goal?" "So far I figure he wants to make Council effective and not hinder the preparations for the next war. That's the most apparent goal I can make out. But I also have a few ideas of what other goals he might have, but so far they are mostly guesses, though I'll still take precautions just in case." "Make them effective? Well, that's not vague at all." Maggie sat back, mulling this over. "We already purged anyone with obvious support for the Thalmor. Dales is attempting military reforms, though to what end, that is somewhat murky to me still. What else is there? Do you wish to share your guesses?" "Filling the Council with yes-sayers that would support him for emperor, take vengeance against the councilmen for something they might have done in the past, or that he just likes to stick his nose into a dragons maw." "So you do think he has aspirations for the Ruby Throne. He was going to speak with the empress about something important when I left them both yesterday. Do you know what he said to her?" "He was calling her a weak puppet." "That was the important matter he had to speak with her about, nothing more? And how did Dales take this berating?" "She didn't like it. But I think it's time she shapes up, I feel her behavior has been on a decline since the coronation." "Mm, true. Just yesterday I was warning her about her escapades. To think that not long ago, she was complaining to me about your running through the maids. Apparently you inspired her." She said this lightly, but the point was clear enough. Maggie thought further about the binding, and how Dales not being able to take full responsibility for her reign may have led her to think she didn't have to. Maggie wasn't yet ready to admit that she knew about this secret of Skjari's, however. Like Samuel, she knew there were limits to how much she could trust the wizard, and that he didn't trust her fully, either. Standing, Maggie paced slowly, considering whether to reveal that she had made an overture to Hard-Heart. Normally she felt no need to report to Skjari what she did, even who else she took to her bed, but in this case, his suspicions might easily be raised. "The general said he wished to know me better," she said, keeping her tone casual and testing the wizard's reaction. "I suggested dinner. I doubt he will open up much to me, but since we're postponing our trip south, I think I'll move up the invitation." Skjari frowned slightly for a second. "What is your interest in him?" "Right now it's to figure out what he's up to. If he is serious about a challenge to the throne, we need to know about it. Even if such a gambit didn't succeed, it could inspire others if it's not forcefully dealt with. I've counseled you before about patience and not stirring the waters, but this is potentially something different. However, we also cannot alienate the legion. So for right now, what we need most is information." She didn't specify who "we" was. For her, it was naturally the Order first, but for the time being her interest was aligned to Dales and Skjari. "I'm already keeping an eye on him. And there's already a contender for the throne, the Count of Cheydinhal. And what makes you think he would open up to you if not plant misinformation after Samuel told him to be beware of the Bathory family?" Maggie lifted her chin. How did he know about that? In fact how did he know Samuel at all? But of course, they were dealing with each other behind her back. Her voice tight, she replied, "Give me some credit. I daresay I can play this game better than a legionnaire. He obviously got a taste for defying emperors from his success at blackening Amaund's eye, and came back to do it again. You will do well to find out where he's getting his money from." She pondered if it could be the Stormcloaks after all. If that was the case, shouldn't Skjari be for it? "Now tell me about Cheydinhal. Is he behind this, or aiding it?" "I don't know, but I intend to find out. But I think what I need right now is a traitor, someone to make an example of. Like the chancellor. He's been a little too bothersome, and he's even showed some desire for the throne. A little evidence and I will have his ribs sticking out of his back on display in the Talos Plaza." Maggie shook her head, disgusted. "It may come to such measures, but I wouldn't leap to it. Right now Dales has some support for being the one who took down Amaund. When she begins to act like him, she'll feed the impression that she is like him. Her sexual escapades have already given people such associations. Anyway isn't your problem with Jon Hard-Heart? If you start going after the Elder Council now, you look like he is giving you orders and not the other way around." "I got riots in the south, Bravil has been overrun by criminals and the Count of Cheydinhal wants the throne. What makes Hard-Heart so interesting? I've already ordered to have his men move to a place outside the city where I can keep them under wraps and have him under watch. And I only picked the chancellor because he's a somewhat good target for a preemptive dissuasion. And first you say I should be forceful, next you say I should not. Is a straight answer too much to ask?" "Without knowing his intentions, I can't advise you what to do. Perhaps he'll let something slip. Pre-emptive assassination to what end? Hard-Heart has an army. If Cheydinhal is behind this, then it is more serious than I thought. The Elder Council doesn't represent a threat to you now, not if they're worried about him. Alienating them right now would serve no purpose." "Who says I'm alienating them? If I kill the chancellor and make it look like Jon or, preferably, the count planted the evidence that forced our hand, I would weaken the Council while pitting them against an enemy. And to figure out Jon's intentions I need him to make a move. He'll either come to me for help or he will go to someone else. If he goes to someone else, it means he isn't an ally and should be disposed of." Maggie threw up her hands and started toward the door. "Kill the chancellor, if you think it will gain you anything at all. I think you are simply angry and want someone's blood. I'm going back out now. I'll let you know if I'm able to find anything out further. If Cheydinhal is moving, that will give me leverage to raise the other counties. None of them will stand for a count proclaiming himself emperor on nothing but his present title alone." "It's just plan I may or may not use. And blood will be shed before all of this is over." He got up and walked to the side of the desk and approached Maggie. "And what do you suggest I do then? Sit passively and wait for the Empire to fall around me?" "It has been doing that for two hundred years, if not more. As long as I've been alive. Or dead, if you prefer." She smiled a little. "Are you cross because I said I was having dinner with the general? I'll sleep with him if I think it can help us. It's not something I relish. He's a churlish sort, and wary of me. However it would be better to try to woo him, in one way or another, than fight him. The Dominion will be most pleased if the legion starts fighting itself." "If he can be wooed by women, he's a liability. I want generals with a sense of duty. I think it would just be better if he comes to me to talk about his plans. I'm not just going to wait for him to do something stupid." Skjari put his hand on her shoulder. "And if you don't relish it, why do you do it?" "We can't always do the things we want. He's speaking to Dales and not to you. What does that tell you?" "She is the empress after all. And I thought Dales would be somewhat able to handle this." He drew a small sigh. "But as of late I think it may be time for me to actually step up." "What did you expect? She's young, and Amaund did not exactly prepare her for leadership. The fracas with Lorgar no doubt emboldened her enemies. Was it wise to appoint the sister of his wife to lead the Oculatus? The Quentas family have denounced him, but words mean little." "She's not really appointed yet, she first have to prove that she's worthy of the position before she fully gets it. And it was probably the best to do with what I expect will soon happen to her sister. I think that in the end the Quentas will support Lilly as she is on the winning side for now. They would just put themselves in a uphill battle if they suddenly decide to support Lorgar." He was quiet for a second before speaking again. "Do you think I should step up?" Maggie hesitated. "What do you mean by that?" "Make myself emperor, sit upon a throne once more." "You mean by marrying Dales? I suggested the same to her." "What other way is there for me to become emperor? I think I can convince her if was for the best. And that is what I'm asking for your advise on. Like why did you suggest just that?" Because you rule over her already. "Because she must marry, and why should it not be you. Earlier I advised her to marry some fool, but if challengers are being emboldened from perception of her weakness, that will only make matters worse." Maggie sighed and half turned away. "My poor country. Two Nords seek to master her with a Breton in between them. It is either amusing irony, or our just deserts for presuming to rule the affairs of other nations." "There can be only one master. I'm going to find and talk to Dales about marriage and then go home to dust off my old crown. But before that, will you stay?" Maggie gave him a doubtful glance. "The Nibeneans will need some convincing, and certainly will if you execute the chancellor. As for staying with you... We hardly have time for that, do we? I must go see what is going on in the city. You need an advisor now more than you need a mistress." She went out, mulling this over.

Gracchus, Theodore Near Ceyatatar Ayleid Ruin Night, the same day Gracchus and Theodore left The fire flickered softly, shadows dancing on the tent's exterior. The smell of burning pine branches and sap floated through the air. Gracchus shifted his stance one the boulder, his boots crunching the fallen pine needles underneath. The moons, Masser and Secunda, shone brightly in the sky, and the stars flitted in and out like flickering candles millions of miles away. Theodore leaned against his saddle, hands resting on his large belly. The silence was somewhat unnerving, especially knowing they were very near a ruin. Ceyatatar was uninhabited, no bandits or monsters took residence there. Still, something about the ruin, the silence, and the tall trees of the Great Forest surrounding the group on every side. Gracchus broke the silence, clearing his throat before addressing Theodore. "What're your plans when you get back to High Rock?" Theodore stirred, pulling himself up from his near prone position. "Well, my father in law is ill, so I'll probably have to tend to him before anything. Then there's the matter of lineage, which unfortunately falls to my sister in law, and her husband from Evermore," Theo said, and added mumbling "which will need to be sorted out..." Gracchus stroked his goatee, as he listened. I wonder how it feels to be so...connected, father in law the king of a province, not to mention other family members. Different coming from a family of farmers, nobodies, and to be the first that'll actually be remembered when he dies. Gracchus snapped back into the conversation, leaving his train of thought behind. "That's a shame he's sick. Do you know what the illness is?" he asked. Theodore shook his head, a useless gesture had it not been for the fire lighting up the surrounding area. "No clue, although some priests and healers attribute the symptoms to Peryite's Plague, in which case there is almost no hope for recovery. He was sick when I left, but I just thought it to be a cold or the chills." "Daedric?" Gracchus asked, mildly shocked. "It never bodes well when they interfere in our affairs." "Indeed," Theo added solemnly. Gracchus let Theodore's answer hang in the air for a while, thinking of something else he could talk about, as the upcoming death of the Breton's father in law was too sad a subject, especially in the atmosphere they found themselves in presently. "What do you know of Hammerfell, specifically how they might react to this proposed alliance?" Gracchus asked. "You'll meet pretty heavy resistance if I had my guess. Just stick to the point of an alliance being the best thing to defeat the Thalmor and I think they'll buckle," the more seasoned politician answered. Gracchus just nodded, unsure what to say. He had no political experience, but knew that Dales hoped a strong military prescience there would be able to work out the details regarding this alliance. Theodore rose, emptied what little remained in his flask into his mouth, and said, "Well, I think I'm gonna hit the hay." Theo walked towards his tent and shut the flap behind him, leaving Gracchus alone with his thoughts. He wasn't alone long, as one of the guards, his not the Breton's walked up to report. "General, sir, we have divided up the night watches between the four of us, and the four Breton guards," the Cyrodiilic soldier said with a salute. "Very good. Go get some rest now, we'll be leaving at sun up. I think that at the pace we set yesterday we can reach Skingrad easily, where I plan for us to stay the night," Gracchus responded. The guard hesitated, as Gracchus raised his eyebrows. "What is it son? Something on your mind?" The guard nodded, looking into the fire. "Me and the boys had a bet, how much do you think Lord Adrard weighs?" Gracchus stifled a laugh, shaking his head at the comment. "Go to sleep before I wake him up and tell him what you said." "Yes sir. Sorry, sir." The guard disappeared back towards his fire, and Gracchus turned and waked into his tent, the silence he left behind not near as unnerving after the guards bet was revealed.

"Wraith" (Lucienus Marcus Valerius) Imperial City, Market District Night, A flash of lighting echoed across the night sky in the imperial city, as dark thunder clouds hide the stars and moon from view. A constant blanket of rain fell down upon the roofs and buildings of the imperial market district. By now, most of the stall owners have tucked their valuables into their strong boxes, and headed to the inn. The store owners had long shut their doors, and locked up. By now, most people were snug in their beds, dreaming about what tomorrow would bring... Except of course, Wraith and his team of "wolves". Three, dark-blue trench coat clad men, crouched silently on the roof of a bookstore, completely content with the rain hitting them. Each of the four men wore dark leather gloves and boots. Underneath there coats, they were suited with dark combat fatigues, along with leader shin guards, shoulder pauldrons, knee guards, and chest guards. The standard issue garb of their unit, the Bloodwolves. For their heads, they wore their trademark "wolf masks" with a balcava, to cover their faces. Each of the men had a serrated steel combat knifed strapped to his or her shoulder, and a "gold-ebony" short blade at their side, ready for use. One of the mercenaries had a custom-made ebony crossbow, which fired jagged iron bolts, drawn, occasionally glancing at other roof tops and the ground. The same mercenary, said in inpatient and gruff voice, "When is the captain going to be done with the reconnaissance...." He fiddled with his weapon, occasionally glancing back at his comrades. He tapped his feat impulsively, while muttering "Could be sucking some nice girls teat right now." Before any of fellow mercenaries could respond with rude and unnecessary jokes, a flash of shadow reached the rain covered roof, a man fell into a slight crouch as he materialized onto the roof. Unlike the other mercenaries, he wore a grey trenchcoat, signifying him as an officer. Under that, he wore crimson/dark leather armor, which had a hood attached to it. The man had yellow glowing eyes. It was Captain Valerius, their current commanding officer. He had the same gold-ebony shortblade on his right side, along with a set of throwing knives hidden in his coat. At the sight of the vampire, the other men sighed in relief. One of them, said, "How did the recon operation go sir?" The vampire turned his head to the soldier, and spoke in little emotion, "Fine." Without further odu, he took a small book out of the pouch he wore, and cleared his throat and, went straight to the point, he pointed towards a medium sized building across from the rooftop they were in, and began talking, “The building is lightly guarded, eight hired blades. Each of these of them are non-recognisable, meaning we don’t know there skill level. A stealth approach will be the most viable solution. Besides the hired blades, the staff includes three maids, one clerk, and three servants. Half of which have gone home. Civilian deaths are to be avoided if possible. If you’re forced to, use non-lethal methods to incapacitate, such as choking out, or knocking unconscious with the butt of your short-sword. Our target has a family, two little girls and a wife. His family is not on the contract, meaning don’t touch them. The target is in his office, reading over the documents. The client is offering us two thousand septims for his death, and an additional two thousand for the recovery of those documents. Payment to be delivered on completion of the contract not a minute before. “ He glanced at the three soldiers, before pointing his finger at an open window mid-floor. “That will be our insertion point. Sergeant Wet-blade will stay here and provide covering fire with his crossbow, the rest of us will enter using a zip line.†He motioned for the sergeant, who took out one of his a grappling shaped crossbow bolt with a large rope. He attached the crossbow bolt to the rope, loaded the bolt onto his crossbow, and fired above the window, dragging the rope with it. The grappling bolt hit it’s mark and landed itself above the window. He pulled back; to make sure the grappling hook was in position correctly, before giving a thumbs up to the vampire. He nodded back, and said to the men. “Good luck gentleman.†And disappeared with a flash of darkness. The two remaining men grasped on to the leather rope, which was flowing downwards, and zipped down with their leather guarded hands. They let go at the last second, and flew into the open window, landing with a silent roll. There boots were muffled and didn’t make a sound. Standing over the corpse of a downed man, was there captain already there with his blade drawn. He nodded at the two men, “Seven guards remaining. Target top floor. Don’t wake up the children.†And with that, the captain signaled the men forward, and went into a crouched position. They left the small room, and into a hallway. Glancing away from them was another guard. He didn't glance anymore after Lucienus shoved his shortblade into his artery, using his free hand to muffle his scream. He carefully placed the body away from the main highway, and proceeded upstairs. He was fast. He carefully navigated away from the children’s room, and proceeded to their targets office. He silently casted a detect life spell, as he took cover beside the doorway, his back across the wall. The other two soldiers did the same left to the door, while wraith took the right. Wraith could see three life signs. Wraith signaled his men using hand gestures, “Two guards, exposed neck. Use your throwing knives. Main target is mine.†The two soldiers nodded and slammed open the door. The shocked and surprised faces on the three men were priceless, and one of the hired blades shoved his client behind them, as they both began to draw there blades. Began was the keyword. Before they even had their swords fully drawn, two knives came flying forwards landing themselves in the soft flesh of their neck area; they were killed right then and there. Lucienus wasted no time; he rushed forward, and grabbed the shocked cowering man by the throat before he could scream. Lucienus whispered into the man’s ear, “Careful, you don’t want to wake up the children do you?†And with that, Lucienus used his free left arm, to shove the blade into the man’s throat, throwing him aside as he dropped the corpse. Lucienus said in a quiet voice, “I’ll get the documents; meet me at the specified location.†The two bloodwolves, chest pumped him, quietly made their way to a window which they opened, and leaped out into the streets bellow. Lucienus was alone, “Daddy?†Luceinus turned suddenly, and saw a girl no older than four holding a teddy bear at the doorway . She had blonde hair, presumably from her mother, and blue eyes. She was tired, and she was rubbing her eyes. Lucienus think fast. He changed his voice, to a kind and caring tone, “This is a dream child, go back to sleep. Your daddy is fine.†the vampire said to the little girl, smiling The young girl returned the smile, before saying “OH, okay then. Thank you.†The little girl yawned tiredly, and headed back to her room. Lucienus glanced at the fallen corpse, and took the sealed documents from his cold hands. He disappeared in a flash of darkness.

Gaius Tullius. Imperial Training grounds, Morning , "******* GET UP" Screamed the armor clad imperial. He wore blood-red/gold garb, without the traditional gold cloak of the high-general. It was Gaius Tullius, High-general of the imperial legion. His face was in a snarl He was in the training grounds of the first legion, which he had taken personal control after sacking general Jon Hard-Heart.. He was grasping a wooden practice gladius, along with a wooded war-axe. His former second-in command, the late Legate Rikke, had personally taught him to wield the nordic weapon, and Tullius wielded it into battle ever since. Young legionaries were watching the scene unfold with a mixture of interest and shock, most of them glancing not at the general, but the downed girl. The girl was short, had long blond hair, and was clad in the standard issue red-leather armor of the imperial legion. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue, and she was breathing extremely heavily and covered in sweat. It was Empress Dales moitre, she feebly said, "General...I need a break-" Tullius wiped the flat of his wooden sword into Dales cheek, sending her sprawling onto the ground with a scream. Tullius raised his voice, as he planted the blade at the young girls throat, "I SAID ******* GET UP!!!!" Dales looked at the imperial, she was close to crying. Tullius could see that, I'm sorry your majesty, this is for your own good. Tullius threw away his wooden axe, and grabbed the empress by the throat, her eyes filled with shock as he slammed her small body onto the wall. She struggled to get out of the man's grip, "Dont ******* cry, or i'll beat the living shit out of you. Your the empress of the ******* empire of Tamriel, don't cry." Dales, who was on the verge of it, hardened herself, and refused to shed any tears. She had stopped struggling with Tullius's arm, knowing she wasn't going to cry, Tullius threw her onto the floor next to her. She landed hardly. she didn't complain. As she brought up her sword once again into a fighting stance. With a cry she charged at the imperial who merely side stepped from her attack in a burst of speed, and slammed the blunt of his blade right into her stomach, causing the young girls eyes to be filled with shock and pain, as she crumpled to the ground. Tullius needed to physiologically break her, and get her angry. He had just the thing. He made circles around the young girl, who was clutching her stomach in pain, and said, "You know what? Jon isn't right about you. Your not just a stupid little girl in frilly clothing, your a whore and a ****. That's all you good at. When the count of Cheyndiel takes your throne and you kingdom from you, I hope he'll send you to the whore-house, they'll charge a septim a piece for the whore-empress." Dales face filled with anger. That did the trick. As she got out of her downed ball, and once again charged at the man. This time he could tell her eyes were filled with fury. She slashed at his right, in which Tullius easily blocked with his Gladius. Dales then slammed her small fist into Tullius left, in which he grabbed with his left hand. He put all of his strength into crushing the empress's fingers, and as he applied pressure, he could hear the empress slowly cry out in pain

Baldur, Rebec, Brund, Veleda Solitude Night He wasn't sure if it was the infection Lorgar left behind or the nervousness Baldur had from imagining what Rebec would say, but Baldur was sweating when he finally approached his house. His armor had three slight scratch marks on the front from the claws, his cheek was cut a bit from the sword, and his blood was showing over the leather on his shoulder. Not a lot, as the leather held back most of the bite, but it was still visible. All in all, Baldur's wounds were rather light, but it still didn't comfort him much. As Baldur put his hands on the doorknob, he quickly tried wiping off a small trickle of blood he felt coming down the vertical cut over his swirl mark. "Here goes nothing." he thought as he stepped inside. Rebec had tried going to sleep, telling herself that Baldur being out late again was just him working with the recruits. I'm a shrew. Who would ever have seen that coming. Not wanting to seem like she was waiting up but not able to sleep, either, she instead sat in the kitchen drinking warmed mead and looking through the navy's ledger book. They still owed a lot of money to High Rock shipyards. It was tempting to shaft the foreigners when there were so many other places for the money to go, but that would be a diplomatic disaster. Rebec thought that at least she could negotiate some of the prices down. Some of the yards had gouged them but good. As she heard the door opening, Rebec jumped up. "Baldur!" Seeing his condition, she was about to ask if Brund had been at him, but then noticed his dazed expression. "What is it? What happened?" Baldur couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, which he was glad for, as it was genuine, and he didn't do well with fake smiles. There wasn't anything to worry about, but he wondered if she would see it that way. "Your favorite canine, Lorgar happened. The fool tried to kill me." "You've got to be joking. What in Oblivion is he even doing in Skyrim?" "I don't know, but he's insane. Which doesn't surprise me given what he is. He fully transformed on me too. You won't likely believe it, but Brund actually helped me. For a split second, I thought...nevermind." Baldur walked in the kitchen next to her now and took the mead she had for a swig. "But it's over for now. Almost killed him several times, but that werewolf blood saved him. Even had my axe in his chest. That's when he fully turned. It was...something else, to be sure." Baldur's eyes stared off as he recalled the memory, showing anger rather than fear. Rebec followed him, her expression a mask of concern. "I can't believe it. By all Dagon's devils, that thing needs to be put down. How did he... Never mind. Are you alright? You're bleeding. Get out of that armor and let me tend your wounds." "Alright, but you don't need to worry, I'm fine. My wounds are light. I got bit though, so I'm waiting for a soldier to bring a cure potion. They should be here soon." Baldur walked back to the living room, starting to strip off his armor, starting with the helmet, then the chestpiece and the leather arm coverings. The damaged one took a little effort to take off, as Baldur forgot about the arrowhead there, but not much. He left his greaves on for now and threw the boots in the armor pile. Muttering, Rebec took the pot on the hearth and poured off the mead, replacing it with wine, which was better for cleaning wounds. Her mind was still working over what Lorgar could be playing at when she registered what Baldur had said. As she came in to where he was undressing, heated wine in tow, her face was white. "You mean, you could become a werewolf? Kyne help us. Who's bringing this potion? I'm going to get it right now." She didn't know much about lycanthropy, but that was the point, for all they knew every minute would matter. "I don't think so. I have no idea really, b-" Baldur's words were cut off by a knock at the door. Or rather a bang, which was unusual for a soldier to do to their home, considering they were the Stormcloak command. "I guess that's the soldier now." "Shor damn that foul beast to the lowest pits of Oblivion. I hope Hircine sells him off to Bal for some real loving attention.... That's if I don't kill him with my own bare hands..." Rebec was still reciting curses as she reached the door and opened it, shouting, "It's about gods damned time!" "Come again, Admiral?" It was Galmar at the door standing with the healing and cure potion. Technically Rebec outranked him, but they all accepted him as being in charge, being Ulfric's adviser. "Oh, shit. Come in, Galmar. I didn't know it was you. What are you doing delivering potions anyway?" Rebec grabbed the bottle out of the old Nord's hands and dashed back up the stairs to the bedroom, shouting over her shoulder, "Make yourself at home." Galmar stepped in slowly, not having been in Erikur's old home before. It smelled...wrong. But then again, all of Solitude smelled wrong to him. Too Imperial for his taste. "I miss Windhelm..." Galmar made his way after Rebec, looking around the house as he did. He had to admit it was nice. Baldur and Rebec being here made it easier to accept. But even them being in this house seemed wrong. Same as Ulfric did being in Solitude's Blue Palace. Galmar walked in finally, making his way to Baldur who was standing in the middle of the room. His back was turned, exposing his scars, and he noticed the two small bloody holes in his arm as well. He never got to see the scars before. "You keep this up, and you're gonna look like a Necro Nord for real." Baldur turned around, surprised to hear Galmar of all people in the home, especially at this time of hour. "Galmar! What are you doing here? You brought the potions?" "Aye. I was making my way here after all the commotion and I saw a soldier coming here with the potions. I had to come here anyway, so I took them off his hands." "Baldur, drink," Rebec urged, impatient to get the cure potion down his throat. "How did that mad thing get into Solitude anyway? This is ridiculous. First he assassinates a jarl in the middle of an entire damn Stormcloak army, now he's running around Solitude attacking our generals. We have to find him and rid Tamriel of him for good." Baldur hadn't wasted any time taking down the potion, not wishing to become pack members with Lorgar. Galmar shook his head wearily and knitted his brow as he did. "I don't know, Baldur stepped up security. Now I see why. But the fool failed. I'm surprised a werewolf managed only to kill one man, but its to be expected when fighting our generals. I expected all that blood to be our own, not his. Let him come back and try. He'll die next time." "Indeed, and I have more important things to do than chase a stray dog. If he comes again, we'll be ready. After this attack, people around Skyrim will take more precautions. He shows his face, he'll get a sword in it. Him killing our Jarl was of no consequence anyway." Rebec's grumble indicated she didn't agree. Dengeir may have been a doddering fool, but he was their fool. The main thing was that Lorgar had come for Baldur, though. That was too close to her nightmares. "He got your axe in his chest, you said, and that didn't kill him. What if he comes for Ulfric next?" She started cleaning the wounds, still muttering curses. "Then he'll die for sure, given that the Palace is filled with Necro Nords, more than what he had to deal with today, and under much tighter security than everywhere else. Next time, I'll remove the head." said Baldur as if it was fact. Galmar crossed his arms and nodded in approval. "From the reports we got from Captain Boldir, when he was still Captain, he wasn't fully transformed when he killed a bunch of men there. Then there's the reports of during the siege after the Jarl's assassination...if he couldn't kill Baldur and Brund in that state when he did so many before, then I'm not worried with our Grim Ones there. Baldur trained them well." Rebec's face was still white. She didn't want to show how upset she was in front of Galmar, but Baldur could probably see it. "Brund actually helped you? That's a miracle." Baldur took note of her face, but didn't say anything on it for now. He knew they'd talk about it later after Galmar left. Thinking back on Brund, Baldur's face showed light confusion while he chuckled briefly. "Yea...more than that. He uh, heh, he actually...made up with me. He said that he was going to kill me some day which caught me off guard, but he said he'd wait until we both were done serving Skyrim. Until that day came, we're brothers." Galmar sighed in frustration as he rubbed his forehead. "Ulfric had a talk with him not too long ago. The fool will never fully drop his grudge, so putting it off is likely the closest thing he could manage to say." "Yea, I figured. He seemed...genuine." said Baldur, unsure of his words. "Oh, well isn't that sweet of him." Rebec's tone was sarcastic but she had to admit it was better than nothing. She paused to fix bandages, then said, "You better drink another healing potion for good measure. I'll get you some mead to wash it down." In her book, mead was the best thing for all Nord ills. "Galmar, will you take one?" "Hahaha, like you 'ave to ask!" he said in his harsh grisly tone. There were only a few times Baldur could recall seeing Galmar smile. When killing Imperials, talking about killing Imperials, or around mead. Baldur wondered if he held it against him for ending one of his favorite pass times. But he figured he'd get over it when it came time to fight the elves. "So Galmar, you said you came here for another reason?" asked Baldur after drinking down another health potion. "Yes, it's a bit of good news to offset the smell of wet dog. I've finally found someone suitable to be Ulfric's Queen." They had a mead rack on every floor- originally a wine rack, but put to its true Nord use since Rebec moved in- so the admiral heard this from where she was collecting the bottles. Coming back into the room, she popped the cork and handed Galmar's bottle over to him. "You don't say? It's about gods damned time. No offense to King Ulfric, but Elisif had no business being anywhere near the throne. Not Skyrim's throne, anyway." "Huh, who you telling? I've never seen Ulfric so happy. Not since we took Skyrim. She served her political purpose, kept the Jarls from gaining more support when they didn't leave and they were killed quickly when they turned down his offer to live. Then the Stormcloak nay sayers kept their opinions as strictly that. But after the invasion was no longer an issue, he put her ass off the throne so quick, your head would spin if you saw. She's staying in the bottom of the Palace now. Sadly, she'll still remain Jarl. For now. But that's okay, because we're going to Windhelm soon, once we've had a talk with this woman. She hasn't accepted yet. You and Baldur need to be in the palace tomorrow to meet her." Baldur's grin was from ear to ear, and he couldn't possibly hold it back. "By the gods, even the Imperial ones! Thank Kyne's sweet teets, I hated that woman! She's sooo...." "******* Stupid." said Baldur and Galmar both at the same time. "Aye. I'll give her credit though on not breaking down when she had to marry her husband's killer." said Baldur. "But that's where it stands. The sooner she's no longer Queen, the better. Not that she had any power anyway, but Ulfric making a...nevermind. That's all behind us now." "So who is this woman you've got in mind, anybody we know?" Rebec had distributed hers and Baldur's mead and finished bandaging, so she first made sure Baldur sat so that he could rest, then pulled a chair close to him. "I doubt you have but Baldur may remember hearing about her briefly in his reports. Remember reading on one Veleda Fire-Hand, Baldur?" Baldur was about to say no, as those reports were dreadfully boring, but the name Fire-Hand sparked up some memories. "Ah actually I do, Battlemage commander right? She was training men in Winterhold? Don't imagine the local populace liked that too much given their anti magic sentiment there. You're eying her? Good choice. She's basically the opposite of Elisif in almost every way that's positive. Tough bitch from what I read. Almost as tough as Rebec." Baldur placed his arm over her shoulder reassuringly, in case she got jealous. She had kept her eye on Baldur as he talked about the woman, but what he said must have passed muster. "I don't know her, but I guess I can't argue if you think she's queen material, Galmar. You say you haven't even asked her yet? This is quite a mission you've got." "...yes. Ever since you fine people ended the war, I've been put on...strange assignments. And now I'm stuck playing wedding planner for Ulfric. I'm not the damn poet, you should be out there shopping for a Queen, not me," said Galmar mockingly. "Wait, you mean..." "Oh yes, hehehe, I know aaall about that little book of yours. Hehehe." Galmar once again let out a rare smile, appearing quite tickled...for Galmar. "The fact that I'm the one playing matchmaker is just wrong. Wrong! I'm a warrior damnit!" Rebec had to laugh. If there was anything more out of place than her as muse for a book of love poems, it was Galmar as royal matchmaker. "This is what happens when warriors become politicians. Tell me at least you lot are going back to Windhelm. Skyrim should be ruled from the throne of Ysgramor, not this imperial nancyland." "Yes, we are. But we haven't talked about whether we're leaving before or after the wedding. I say before." said Galmar. "I agree. Then we could have it along with the Feast of the Dead. Do the wedding first, then have that right after," said Baldur. "Feast of the Dead? My pa will fall over. He's always saying the average Nord knows the Septim bloodline but neither Ysgramor's nor their own." She glanced at Baldur. "Are you alright, love? Maybe you ought to get some rest. We can talk about all this tomorrow, when we go meet this queen-as-will-be." "Rebec, I'm fine. But I suppose we should get our rest regardless. See you tomorrow, Galmar?" Galmar was already making his way out. "Aye, be there at noon. I still have to talk to her, but she's been stationed in the city at least. Baldur, you and Brund are off for the day, as are the men. Elisif will be publicly denounced as Queen tomorrow. If either of you are late, I'll have Fire-Hand turn this house to brimstone....Unkindled. Hehehehe." Galmar's laughter was low and barely audible as he made his way out the door, leaving the two alone in the house. Rebec might have shown Galmar out, but left him to find the door himself. Baldur needed her attention more. As they stood, she held his arms, and pulled him closer, until his forehead rested on hers. "Damn it, Baldur." Her voice had turned soft. "I'm not going to sleep a wink thinking of you fighting that beast. Guess I oughtn't anyway, in case you turn wolf in the night." She was trying to joke about it, but even that made her feel sick. Baldur wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly while their heads touched. "You'll sleep, or I'll stay awake with you until you do. Look at me, I'm perfectly fine. The potion's doing its thing, and I'll stop by the statue of Talos tomorrow just to be double safe. If a werewolf didn't kill me, you don't have much to worry about. You remember what I said in Falkreath when you asked about marrying under Arkay?" "There's no sense in arguing with you. That's what I get for marrying a stubborn Nord." She grinned and kissed him twice, then made herself stop and gestured to the bed. "Sleep. That's an order. I'll be right behind you, after I bank the fires." Smiling after her kisses, Baldur nodded to her and obeyed her orders, stripping off his greaves before crawling into bed. "I mean it, I'll be waiting to see you sleep, so the quicker you do, the quicker I do." "Whatever you say, general." She was back soon and climbed in beside him, adjusting the bedclothes around them snugly. Testing, she rubbed a hand over his chest. "No fur yet. No more than usual, anyway." "Of course not, I took a magic potion. I told you, there's no need to worry." Baldur wasn't quite as sure as he made himself out to be, but he knew alchemists were pretty confident in the strength of those potions. As long as he wasn't transformed, he figured it was fine. He had to for Rebec's sake. He rolled to his side and pulled Rebec to him to comfort her, having her head rest on his arm. "Magic. And now we'll have a mage as queen. What is Skyrim coming to." She yawned, apparently not serious about being unable to sleep. Baldur being so talkative was comforting, though, and at least he was home. "A Kingdom without Elisif as Queen. Seems good to me. It's been too long." Hearing Rebec yawn made him feel better, seeing that she wasn't worrying herself to death. Seeing her nose wrinkle from it and her cute tired look at him made him smile. His eyes were starting to feel slightly heavy, and soon her yawn affected him, making him yawn as well. "And she's tough. No milkdrinker. You two can actually have a conversation." "We'll see about that," came the muffled reply. After that Rebec just held him, one arm looped around his chest, and fell asleep hoping she'd have no nightmares about werewolves. As he watched her fall to sleep like he said he would, his eyes finally closed, now that the blue of her Atmoran eyes had released their hold on his. Baldur opened them again briefly, checking his teeth with his fingers, making sure there was no hair in his ears, and so on. When he was satisfied that the potion had indeed did its job if he was ever infected to begin with, he finally allowed himself to close his eyes again as he kissed his sleeping wife on the head and laid his chin over her, letting her gentle warm breathing lull him to sleep. *** At the crack of dawn, the only ones stirring were the bakers and fishwives setting up for the day. In the Castle Dour courtyard, a few recruits were outside training, but they had made a wide berth for a special little group. Occasionally a drill sergeant would berate a recruit for turning his attention that way instead of on his drill. It was hard not to look. For one thing, the little cluster of soldiers would occasionally light up from spells being cast. For another, the one leading them was not your usual officer. The tall, dark-haired woman wore a black mail-reinforced robe, and her voice carried across the courtyard even if she didn't scream like the drill leaders did. She wasn't especially beautiful, but she was striking, with the manner of one who was a natural commander. A clear, deep voice, with an accent that sounded imperial, carried across the courtyard. "Now, all of you approach the dummy with weapon drawn and let's see how you handle a one-hand cast. Ice spells only, please. We've burned up enough of your commander's practice dummies and I'd like to be invited back again someday." The woman stood back, arms crossed, to observe the group. Galmar walked in just in time to hear this, and observed the demonstration briefly, more suspicious than curious. "Magic...about the only thing that's a mark on an otherwise impressive resume." Galmar walked a little closer now, ignoring recruit's occasional gaze at him and staying back until she noticed his presence. Most of the recruits charged at the dummy in front of them and only got off one ice spike before slashing at it with their mainhand weapon. Only one of them kept at a distance, casting several times while slowly circling, waiting for his "enemy" to charge him. "That's enough!" The woman called. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. You'll be hearing from me shortly. You." She pointed at the young Nord who had held back from his target. "Stay behind, I'd like to see what other spells you know." Out of the corner of her eye, the battlemage saw Galmar. "Wait here," she told the recruit, then approached the famed Stormcloak commander. Resting a hand on her chest, she bowed her head. "Stone-Fist. It's an honor." Galmar was glad that the magic slinging was ended for now. It brought back too many unpleasant memories of the Great War, and it made his nose twitch. After wiping his nose, Galmar returned the bow. "Fire-Hand, glad you made it. I have an important matter to discuss." Galmar gave a deep heavy sigh, and pulled out a piece of paper with a deep angry look. "This is so...degrading" he thought. Galmar thought about his conversation with Ulfric this morning. He enjoyed giving Galmar this task entirely too much. "Galmar, I know it's unpleasant but we have to follow custom, remember? Tradition is what we're all about after all." said Ulfric in between his grinning. "I know, Ulfric...but this is s-" "And don't forget to get on your knee when you do it. This is our future High Queen! You must show her the respect that entails. Make it entising. Woo her for me." "How the hell am I supp-" Ulfric cut Galmar off once more. "All you have to do is read this. Here, I had Baldur snap this together for me a while back. Now go. And bring me back a High Queen!" If Galmar was capable of blushing, he probably would have by now as he got down to one knee and very unenthusiastically read the note. "I bet that bastard made the knee part up. I'll get him back for this somehow." said Galmar to himself. In snow sheathed land of snake and hawk and children of the sky, A High King sits on honored throne, no worthy wife to be seen, But now one worthy has been shown, and now her time is nigh, A true nord woman among us walks, will you be our High Queen? Galmar quickly got up now and crumbled the paper up, throwing it over his shoulder as he scowled at the stone floor. "Well? You have questions first?" Veleda looked at Galmar as if he had just sprouted wings and turned into a daedra. She couldn't fathom what the commander was talking about until suddenly, after a long silent pause, understanding dawned. Laughing, she said, "My unit put you up to this. Creative, even for them. How many kegs of Blackbriar Reserve did it take to win you over?" Galmar's face was still angry from embarrassment, and he looked like he just shat out the jagged crown. "I'm not joking. We need someone to replace that...thing...that we put up as High Queen temporarily." Veleda still had a smile on her face, but as it became clear that Galmar wasn't joking, it vanished. "By Talos, you're serious." She stared at him, then paced away a few steps, hand on her sword hilt. When she turned back, her tone was angry. "I've explained this to all of you again and again. What I'm doing is important. I know you don't agree, but this is a crucial part of our war readiness. I thought the king, at least, understood that." "You'll be High Queen. You'll be in a much better position to get what you think should be done for our forces done. You along with Ulfric will have command of both the future High General Baldur Red-Snow, and the High Admiral. Oh, general Baldur and Brund don't know the decision was made, so keep that quiet. Not that it was much of a secret to anyone." Exasperated, Veleda said, "Me, High Queen. It's preposterous! I'm a warrior, not some piece of fluff you put in a dress and stick in a corner. I... I'm sorry, Commander. Most women would probably jump at this chance, and I'm honored, but.... Why me, for all the gods below?" "Because we NEED a real high queen! We need our women to look up to someone and follow her example! To be strong! Elisif was an unfortunate necessity at the time, but now, the joke is over and its time to get serious. Ulfric will also be moving back to Windhelm where the true seat of power in Skyrim is and always should have been. Now we need a queen to go with him that doesn't have the intelligence of an orc on skooma mixed with horker dung. You are that queen. You will serve your people on a greater level than you ever could have as a commander alone. And you will still command. I know its a lot of responsibility, but Ulfric and I, as well as Baldur and the others will be at your side in support. We're a family. An unorthodox dysfunctional family, but we stick together and guard our own." Galmar's face actually managed to soften up some as he spoke. It was evident that this Solitude and Elisif issue had bothered him for some time. Veleda's brow was still knit, but Galmar's passion had a way of infecting others with it, so at least she stopped protesting and started thinking. The battlemage simply couldn't make her mind wrap around the notion of marrying Ulfric Stormcloak and becoming queen of Skyrim. It was the very last thing she'd have expected someone to ask of her. "I'm a mage," she said, her tone turning analytical. "And I was born in Cyrodiil. You know this would cause problems." Galmar thought for a while as he rubbed his chin before speaking. "Hmm, true. But it's a lot better than having Elisif as Queen. There are those who distrust magic users, and a Cyrodiil born Queen to boot would be hard to swallow for some. But most of the people who would distrust you for being Cyrodiil born likely hate Elisif as much as we do for being with the Imperials in the first place. So when they start comparing you to her...you get the idea. It's not perfect, but it's not Elisif. And your reputation will get around when you are Queen as well. I think that will show where your loyalties truly lie." "You haven't thought of these things? Surely you have other candidates who don't have these problems. How did I get on this list?" "That's just it, these problems you mentioned are small. More like excuses than anything. We want a Queen who is a warrior, a fighter. We don't have that many females in command. Of the few that we do have, you stuck out to me. I remember that day you came back from the ice wraiths. Others did the task as well, but you left an impression on me that made me think you fitting. And besides that, you're capable, and if Ulfric were to somehow die, you would be capable of ruling without him in time." "Because I told you off," Veleda interpreted, a half-smile indicating she no longer held it against him. A lot of water had gone under the bridge since then, or rather, a lot of blood. Not that spilled blood bothered her much. Her coldness under pressure was what had made her a good assassin in Cyrodiil. That, and a few handy spells. She still had to prove herself, every day, but that was part of what got her out of bed in the morning. The challenge of what she was being asked to do, and what Galmar had said about her ability to effect change more as queen than she ever had as the crazy mage up in Winterhold, made her resistance crumble. Everyone else believed peace had come, but Fire-Hand knew that Tamriel was in more danger than ever. Skyrim had to be ready to defend herself or all of humanity would pay the price. "Ugh, I can't believe I'm saying this." The battlemage lifted a hand to her head to steady the swimming. Closing her eyes, she forced the words out. "Yes. Yes, alright. Sweet Talos, let's go tell the king before I change my mind." Without another word, she turned and began to stride away, saying to the waiting recruit, "Go... do something. I'll find you later." Then she turned to wait for Galmar, realizing she'd given him an order. "Hehe, see? You're a natural. Lead the way, milady." *** Ulfric Stormcloak was pacing in the Palace throneroom, patiently awaiting Galmar's return. He wasn't at all nervous, just ready to move on and set things straight as he saw them. He never at all envisioned that he would be stuck in Solitude for so long. Especially not with Elisif. But now things were finally falling into place, assuming Galmar got his Queen, that is. The door flung open and Veleda came striding in as if she was about to charge into battle. Seeing Ulfric, she stopped in front of him, gave him a searching stare, then remembered herself and bowed. "Your Majesty. Galmar tells me that you have a rather unique task for me." Ulfric sighed in relief, then walked up to the would be Queen. When he reached her, he took some time to size her up, get an idea of what he was dealing with. "Yes, that I do. So this is Veleda Fire-Hand, the woman who seared our symbol onto her flesh to prove a point. As well as others. Conviction clearly is not an issue. Did Galmar recite the poem?" He gave a mischievous smile at the mention of the poetic proposal, eying Galmar and laughing at his distress ridden face. "Hahaha, I'll take that as a yes." "You did find a way to get my attention." Veleda gave a half-smile, glancing from Ulfric to Galmar and back. She'd seen the both of them together before and after battles during the war, and knew of their long friendship. Meanwhile both men were all but unknown to her and only as her superiors. She felt an odd man out in the room, but guessed that it wouldn't be the last time. "I need to understand the terms. Is this to be made official soon? I'll have to make arrangements with my squad in Winterhold." "The engagement will be soon, but I can put it off until your other affairs are taken care of. The actual wedding won't happen for a few weeks. The Red-Snows and Galmar seem to think it best to have the wedding in Windhelm before the Feast of the Dead. What do you think of that?" Veleda blinked once. She had no idea what that was, but now was not the time to remind everyone that she didn't grow up in Skyrim. There had to be a book about it somewhere. "I can turn the battlemage training over to Menel. He's very capable. A Bosmer." Turning to Galmar, Veleda spoke with a hint of challenge, anticipating his objection. "The one who lost a finger and two toes to that ice wraith mission. He wears his commitment in his flesh every bit as much as I do." She looked back at Ulfric and hesitated. "You think your court will accept this? Elisif's court. What is this going to entail? I'm not queasy about executions, I just want to know what to expect." "They don't get a say in this and they never will. I'm not kicking Elisif and her court out anyway. Elisif will simply stay in the palace, and when we leave she will resume her previous duties as Jarl. I know better than to execute them. I only did so to the Jarls previously because they forced my hand, but it was undesired." Ulfric took some time to think for a while on that decision, double checking that it didn't have foreseeable consequences as he rubbed his chin. "Yes, that will do. I may not trust her court completely, but at the end of the day, they serve whoever is ruling even if they are unhappy about it. Falk has shown this, and I commend him for it, although he would be indifferent to it. With him helping, along with the rest of the court, Solitude will do fine. The main issue will be the hold getting used to not having the Kingdom's gold held here. But it is a necessary change. Windhelm too had to deal with that change. They will live." "Solitude always had a lot of gold of its own, from the sea trade," Veleda pointed out. Her mind was working, too, seeing how this would shift the balance in the country and what would have to be done to adjust. "I've heard General Brund has started a new initiative to root out the Forsworn. That's very good. Moving our capital back to Windhelm could leave a power vacuum in the west otherwise. The Reach needs more settlement to really pacify it, but we don't have the population right now. Maybe a benefit of my appointment will be that other young Nords will come home to Skyrim, seeing that we're wanted here." She stopped, realizing she was talking about this as if it were already done. Well, that's how you make decisions in war. No second guessing. Glancing at Galmar and back to Ulfric, she hesitated. "I'm... not sure what I should do now. I said my oath as a Stormcloak, but this is something else. It's not every day you get asked to be queen." "You don't need to make any other oaths or anything like that, not until the wedding. Rebec and the rest should be here soon, and after that you can move your things in a room in the palace or in my quarters. Whichever you are more comfortable with. And during your stay you can continue training your men and we'll discuss other matters of Skyrim in between that time. Sound good, High Queen Fire-Hand?" said Ulfric, grinning as he did. He knew this was a lot to take on, but that's why he agreed to Galmar's choice. Because he knew she could handle it. "I'll want my own quarters, Your Majesty. For now." Inwardly Veleda sighed. She hadn't ever thought of getting married for precisely this reason, because she had too much to do and no time for such things. If she was going to do it, though, she wasn't going to be a doormat. "In Windhelm, I'll want a study and laboratory. Wuunferth won't like it, maybe, but I won't bother him, or you. I don't deal in trifles and don't dabble in necromancy or anything else untoward. If that assures you." She said that in Galmar's direction. Then there were voices in the outer hall. Veleda glanced back, realizing it was probably the generals and admiral. It would be the first test of how this new arrangement sat with the men. This should be interesting. *** Outside of the palace five minutes away, Brund had met up with Baldur and Rebec, not surprising to Baldur. "So, what do you think of this new Queen, Brund?" "I don't much care. I didn't care about Elisif being Queen either. Ulfric is the real power on the throne. That won't much change strong Queen or no. Besides, I'm too busy running a war." Rebec had put on her chainmail and war paint, with her seacloak thrown over her shoulders. It was as close as she got to a dress uniform. She still hated Brund, but this morning with Baldur beside her, healthy and sound, she had to admit some of the credit for that went to the old general. "So are we all. I hear you met Lorgar. Sweet, isn't he?" "I don't know what to think of him. Hearing him talk was like dealing with three different men. I guess that's why he didn't die after we injured him so. Gotta kill all of 'em. Never saw a werewolf before. It's interesting to say the least. If it weren't for Sovngarde, I may have said for Baldur not to take the cure. Would make for a good weapon against the Thalmor." Rebec's gut turned over even at hearing such words, but she controlled her reaction. "I suppose that's part of what won our battle in Falkreath, but you should've heard him when some Thalmor skirt ordered him to polish his staff. He just asked how hard. You never can tell with that bastard. Anyway, let's not keep our new queen waiting." "Eh our battle in Falkreath was more like a slaughter. Werewolf, or rather wolves, or no werewolves, they were dead to rights." Baldur moved past the two to approach the palace doors, bowing his head as he walked in to the Necro Nord guards nearby doing the same for him. As he approached the stairs, Ulfric walked up to meet them at the top. "Hey, good to see you're still human! How you two feeling? I heard you boys got put through the ringer last night." said Ulfric. "Figures it takes a werewolf to put us on our toes," said Brund. He even smiled a little, which always looked unsettling. "We're fine, Ulfric. Just a little combat training is all." Baldur turned to face Veleda, sizing her up as Ulfric did. Just as he imagined. She indeed looked like a Queen. "Hello, your...do I call you your majesty now or after the wedding?" Veleda regarded the officers coolly. She'd never been intimidated by anyone, which had helped when facing down the justiciars combing the Imperial City, but politics was a different kind of war. However the faces she saw were curious and skeptical, not hostile. It was a start. "I don't think any of us are ready for that sort of title change just yet," she answered Baldur, smiling. "I'm glad to meet all of you, however. The heroes of Pale Pass. We've all been studying your dispatches." "I could imagine. I bet the magic usage was of particular interest to you considering your position." he said. "It was. From both sides." Veleda turned from Baldur to Rebec. "Admiral, stories of your sea war are a favorite around the mess hall, too. I heard some battlemages sank your command ship." "Gracchus Ceno," Rebec answered, spitting out the name. "And a few of his sparkle-finger friends." "Gracchus?" Veleda's eyebrow raised. The admiral's expression turned suspicious. "That's right. Smartass legate who finally sussed out who the real enemy was in Falkreath. Pal of yours?" "Old legion colleague. Smart, yes. Smartass..." The battlemage didn't say it, but that was the sort of thing she'd heard said of Rebec Red-Snow herself, not her old instructor in the legion. "I suppose Gracchus would say he was just following orders." "That's what they all say," Rebec grumbled. Baldur was about to share with the class what Rebec did when they met, but thought better of it and continued on the subject of magic. "From what I can tell he was pretty reasonable, compared to the other Generals I've dealt with of theirs. Although he was just a Legate until that war according to Marius. We had a nice chat in the Thalmor prisons. It doesn't surprise me to learn Gracchus was a colleague of yours. We had their General and he stepped up to the plate unfortunately and made our battle more costly than we expected. Had to get unorthodox with the Dunmer magic since we didn't have many battlemages. Could have used your men, but you understand the recruitment at the time was rushed and we had to stick with what we knew to get them out as soon as possible, which is why your support was limited. Even now trying to train our own battlemages when we're still building up a new force that's scant on good leaders is a bit troublesome." Veleda's smile became more relaxed. Here, at least, was a Stormcloak officer who understood that mages were a valuable resource. "Believe me, when we heard that a Thalmor army was coming across Pale Pass, there was no one more eager to meet it than I was. However, my task is..." She glanced at Ulfric. "...was to prepare us for the next Great War, when we'll meet all of the Dominion's strength. I'm glad, in the end, that the legion did the right thing. The Thalmor have many ways to keep a grip on the mind and will. Baldur had an awkward pause for a while and shared a glance with Ulfric. "Yes, Baldur and I got a taste of that first-hand. Not pleasant. Speaking of the importance of mages, Rebec do you think that you could have the navy utilize them?" The admiral didn't appear happy at the question, which Veleda noticed. She spoke up before Rebec could reply. "Maybe I can answer that. Admiral, I'm not only training destructionists. Only perhaps one in ten of the recruits I see are actual battlemage material. Others who have spellcasting ability but don't belong on a battlefield are trained in restoration and enchanting. You'll be getting a new ship, yes? I'll see to it that your ship has the strongest resistance wards we can place on it. It won't be so easy to sink next time. Not by mages, anyway." This reply shut Rebec up for a few moments while she considered it. "That would be good, I guess. As for mages on our ships, I wouldn't turn down a healer, but fireball chuckers are as apt to burn down our own ships as the enemy's." "Not my battlemages," Veleda replied, her tone forceful. Rebec glanced at Baldur, and back to the queen. "I'll think about it." Veleda replied, "Please do, Admiral. Our tactics have to change. The Great War had us chasing our tails, the Dominion ahead of us at almost every turn. But we're not in the legion anymore. We don't have to abide by the old ways and get mired in..." She stopped and glanced at Ulfric."I'm sorry-\your Majesty. I shouldn't speak out of turn. This is your audience." "You'll learn the way of things here soon. Outside of public eyes, we're not very formal. You speak your mind. I will let you know if you've spoken when you shouldn't have or when you need to mind your tongue. Otherwise, don't worry about speaking your mind. Baldur sure as hell doesn't, and normally neither does Brund. You've been awfully quiet lately, Brund. You alright? Werewolf got your tongue?" "Heh, no. I'm just observing. To be honest, I didn't really give a flying skeever who the Queen was because I thought you'd still be doing everything anyway. Glad to see you won't need to anymore, now that we have a Queen with a brain worth a damn." "Thank you, General," Veleda said, surprised. "No one's under any illusions who rules Skyrim. Are you all coming to Windhelm for..." She paused to remember what it was. "For the Feast of the Dead? It seems an odd time to have a wedding, but everything about this is unusual." Brund was the first to speak up. He didn't want to go to any wedding even if it was Ulfric's. He couldn't be any more out of place. "I am not sure I can attend with my men on the field of battle. In fact after I take care of some more things here I think I should get back into the Reach and put all my attention on it. The battle there is proving more troublesome than I first imagined. It's more like rooting out rats rather than a war." "I don't envy you in that task, Brund, but from what I understand its not a question of if we'll win, but more of when, and how many men will it cost us," said Baldur. "Aye, that it is," Brund said. "Rebec and I will attend. I recommended we had it with the Feast of the Dead. We honor those 500 who came and reclaimed our land with the marriage of the King who helped us do the same. I think it's fitting." "As do I, Red-Snow." said Ulfric. "It's not so odd. We were married by a priest of Arkay," Rebec added, grinning. She shot Brund a warning look to keep him from saying anything about it. Veleda nodded. "In Falkreath, yes? Tell me, what do you think about this new empress in Cyrodiil? I heard you had her as a hostage while you were working things out with the legion. Do you think she'll honor our alliance?" "Between you and me, it's not up to her. In more ways than one...but anyway, she has two choices. One, honor the agreement and fight with us against the Thalmor, or two...double cross us and die. The Empire is scant on allies, even more scant on friends. She'll honor our agreement. Or get a Thalmor blade in the gut, or a Nord axe to the skull." said Baldur as though it were fact, which it possibly was. The new queen smiled approvingly. "You sound confident. I hope it's so. We can't lose a southern flank to imperial incompetence again. What about Hammerfell? That may prove even more difficult. I was surprised we got any aid from them at all." "We only got the support we did from them because of Rebec and her family's connections with the Redguards," said Baldur. Baldur smiled and put an arm over Rebec's shoulder, proud of having Rebec's accomplishments noted. Ulfric replied, "Yes, and that makes our job slightly easier, having the Forebears allied with us in a similar fashion as Cyrodiil, although on better terms. However, the Crowns are reported to being skeptical of this alliance due to our recent pairing with the Empire and are reluctant to stay with us. I don't think they'll break out into civil war over it, so there's that. But if they're to trust us, they'll have to be reassured that we haven't forgotten their actions of the past, and won't be stupid enough to trust them. Or dumb enough to spill blood for their land unless absolutely necessary. We do that, and maybe they'll join and send more of their mercenaries." Rebec said, "Baldur's sweet talking, but we got their help because they hate the Thalmor worse than they hate each other or us. That's all we can really count on going forward. If you want my say-so on the empress, Your Majesties, then she's got a mean streak and has some growing up to do, but if you expect anything much out of an emperor of Cyrodiil, be prepared to be called a fool. Even pretty swamp flowers just lure you into the muck." "I understand your warning, Admiral," Veleda put in. "Like I tell my men, the minute we throw back the Dominion, I expect the empire to start plotting how to get us under their yoke again." Baldur said, "They're welcome to try. Nords don't do well with peace. All we do with it is prepare for the next battle. And this time, we have a powerful navy, the Pale Pass is fortified, and Skyrim is independently strong again. They didn't call us the strong arm of the Empire for nothing. If they're not careful, we'll end up finishing what Potema started. We've only ever entered the Empire when it was by our own will, not theirs." "You're damn right. Ulfric and I were in the Legion. They love to praise us when they need us, but soon after we're barbarians who can't rule themselves," added Brund. Ulfric said, "Joke's on them, then. Now isn't it? I would prefer not getting into a war with the Empire if I can help it, but I agree they would be fools to try. Which is why I think when we do push the Thalmor out of the Dominion, who controls what will be a big issue. I was thinking that we get the local populace to rule themselves, but a better option I think would be to let the Empire try and annex them. Even if they succeed at first, all they'll be doing is stretching themselves thin and wearing on the citizens there, causing more trouble and keeping them distracted. They have that on their plate, then Skyrim won't be in their sights anyway. And if it is, it will only further complicate the matter. An Empire only expands and maintains its land when it is strong. Otherwise it collapses under its own weight." "As long as we get in on the trade deals," Rebec interjected. "The East Empire Company always had the jump on us, and even more if they get the whole south to themselves." "Best case scenario, the imperials pay for the reconstruction and we skim the profits," Veleda said with a half-smile. Rebec turned, surprised. "Your Majesty, I like the way you think." "And knowing them, they'd be happy to do so, to try and spread more propaganda of the glorious Empire," said Ulfric sarcastically. Baldur added, "I doubt they'll be dishing out coin any time soon. If the Thalmor hits Cyrodiil again, their coffers are gonna be hurting. And honestly, that would hurt us some as well. Less spending on their part with less gold for trade with us. We want them weakened, not broken." "The alliance is important," Veleda agreed. "But this time, it will be on our terms and not only what the emperor chooses to share with us. I hope I can help with that. At the very least no one can say that we don't understand how things work in the Imperial City. For years I tried to be the good imperial citizen my parents wanted me to be, but it was like watching a mammoth driven towards a cliff. The empire dancing to the Thalmor's music as if entranced, while they led us to our own destruction. We woke them up. If they harbor any illusions about our alliance, there will be another awakening." "I imagine some will distrust you for being born in Cyrodiil, but that will prove to work in our favor. Also, this alliance is fragile. No doubt the Thalmor will try to exploit that," said Ulfric. "Sure sounds like an imperial," Rebec said under her breath. The queen overheard and turned to her. "My accent. I know. I won't insult anyone by pretending to be what I'm not. I don't know, honestly, how this will all go over outside these walls. I imagine the common people are like General Brund here. They don't care who rules, as long as they can get on with their lives and we don't bother them too much." "First things first. When are we drop kicking that place holder, sir?" asked Baldur. "Very soon. If we're done here, we can sound the horns and address the people in the street. Have your men stand near and get a priest from the temple ready to annul the marriage." "Horns and everything," Rebec grinned, this time making sure only Baldur could hear. She was as happy as he was to see the sham with Elisif ended. If Elisif had borne an heir, they'd all be stuck with half milk-drinker for the foreseeable future. Meanwhile Veleda took a deep breath and collected herself. This was a battle of quite a different sort, and she could only wonder what she'd gotten herself into. In between grinning from Rebec's statement, Baldur said, "Okay, sir. I think Rebec and I are satisfied with this meeting, not that it was up to us. But still. I'll have the men set up a perimeter for you. Men! Assemble the Necros in the streets!" Baldur drew an axe and his shield and made for the door. Brund followed, as did Galmar, all eager to get this done as soon as possible. The men in the palace room all ran off to get Ulfric's royal guard to set up a perimeter for the King. Galmar left to fetch the priest. As Rebec followed Baldur out, it left Veleda and Ulfric standing in the foyer, waiting for the guard to organize itself. The battlemage glanced sidelong at the king. Ulfric Stormcloak. He'd always seemed larger than life, even if she wasn't one to be starry-eyed. Now, as husband? He was still in his prime, but getting older. An heir would be a priority. She guessed that if she didn't produce, some would be calling for her to be tossed out just as Elisif was about to be. That was how things like this worked. Veleda had no illusions. Ulfric was watching his men walk out in preparation with pride, and just barely noticed the look Veleda gave him. Having been through this already and in much more awkward circumstances, he was used to the idea already. Or perhaps it was more relief of the last marriage being done rather than being used to it. Whatever the case was, Ulfric didn't show any signs of being unsure or nervousness. "I know I said I'd put off the engagement until you were ready, but the people will want to know their King isn't without a Queen. You'll still be able to take care of your affairs." "It's probably better that way," she agreed. "I just hope my letter reaches my officers before the news does. Winterhold's kind of its own world, so maybe it will. Either way, Menel's going to kill me." Ulfric didn't pretend to care about what the wood elf friend of hers thought and started to walk to the back of the palace. "I'll go bring Elisif outside for the annulment. I'll meet you outside with the Red-Snows and the grumps." Veleda went outside and found the soldiers, along with nosy citizens already gathering to see what was going on. As she waited, she looked up and caught a glint of morning sun. For some reason it made her think of the reflection off Lake Rumare. She and her family had withdrawn into their corners, sending polite letters once or twice a year, staying far away from the subject of politics or what she was doing with her life. As they saw it, they had all suffered a lot for her choices. Mother, what will you think of this, the battlemage pondered. Baldur watched as his men all started pushing back the crowd, shields and weapons drawn so they'd be quick about it. They knew the drill however, being used to all of Torygg's speeches Baldur assumed. When the street was open for Ulfric, the men moved from in front of the citizens and stood on the left and right, weapons still drawn in case someone tried something. Baldur held his war horn in his hands, waiting for Ulfric and Galmar to arrive. When he finally saw Galmar making his way to them with the priest, he smiled and turned to Rebec. "Would you like the honors?" holding the horn for Rebec to take and use when Ulfric gave the signal. "Gladly." Rebec didn't hesitate or spare the ones standing nearby, blowing out three clear, mournful blasts. "Milk drinker overboard," she whispered to Baldur with a smirk. "Dang it, you did it to early, silly," said Baldur as he took back the horn, laughing. "Oh well, I already see them on their way anyway." As Baldur said, Galmar, a priest, Ulfric and the milkdrinker in question were walking towards them. The horn had shushed most of the chatter, and Ulfric's form hushed the rest as the crowd watched them approach. Galmar walked up to Baldur and put his hand on his shoulder and spoke in hushed tones. "Alright, go address the crowd." "Me? Why me? These people don't care about me, these are the same people that cheered for Rogvir's death. **** these people." said Baldur. "Damn it, I had to bend my goddamned knee and read YOUR poem to get the Queen here! You do it!" "Why me? Why not B-" "Don't even try it, Red-Snow. You're the minstrel," said Brund. Baldur turned his head to Rebec, smiling and trying to be charming. "Rebec...love, would you mind?" "I wouldn't mind at all if you gave the speech." Rebec stood back with arms crossed, either not understanding his meaning or pretending not to. Baldur frowned and was about to protest, when Ulfric spoke up. "Get a move on, Red-Snow!" Elisif was standing next to the King and she too wanted him to hurry. The whole situation was quite embarrassing for her, although she was very relieved to soon be rid of her husband's killer. "Lets make this quick, so I c-" "When I want your input, Elisif, I'll let you know. So in words you can understand, shut up." Elisif bit her lip in anger and turned her gaze away from him to the ground. By now the crowd was staring at the group, waiting for someone to step forward and speak. Baldur finally walked up, cursing Galmar and the rest as he did. He wasn't afraid of giving speeches, but wasting his breath on people he knew didn't care much for him or the King was awkward and an annoyance. But he sucked it up and cleared his throat to start. "People of Solitude! I am General Baldur Red-Snow, commander of the Grim Ones. You are gathered here today to witness your High King and High Queen officially have their marriage annulled. In this act, our king puts forth the first step into turning Skyrim back to its roots and having both a strong King AND Queen. He does this in the name of Talos and the old gods, and by his right as High King. This is not an act of selfishness, but rather an act of one who cares for our future, just as he had done when he rallied his true sons of Skyrim to free us from our oppressors and the enemy's appeasers. And by doing this, he will guarantee that his lineage will continue to do so long after he has passed, and that our children will be lead by strong rulers like in the day of Ysgramor of Atmora. So without further ado, I give you Ulfric Stormcloak, High King of Skyrim!" Chatter and gossiping broke out after Baldur's short address over the end of the royal marriage, most of it being over Elisif's fate and what would happen to her. To Baldur's surprise, people actually started clapping finally when Ulfric walked up now to speak, albeit lower than if he were in Windhelm or elsewhere. It didn't make it any better in his eyes. He only saw it as people being fickle. Some of the grumbling however could be heard, likely from Baldur mentioning "appeasers" and viewing Baldur's words as bragging. Which he was. Ulfric didn't care about their grumbling and ignored it as he got ready to speak. "Ever since this bloody civil war, we have fought to bring Skyrim under its own. We've shed blood and sweat to tear this land from the grasp of the Drake and the Thalmor, and we did so that Skyrim would be ours to shape, into an image that we could once again be proud of! So that Skyrim could be strong once more like it was under our ancestors! So to further that goal, and to honor those who died to make Skyrim's High King be a strong King, I must give you a strong Queen! One who will fight for this land as fiercely as any bear, and one who HAS fought for this land! And together we will forge a marriage harder than Skyforge steel that will drag this land to glory like a snake snatched by a hawk up high for all of Tamriel to see! And all then will quake in fear, for all will know that Skyrim truly is ours once more, and that we need no outside force to rule for us! For we once more, are free!" The whole thing was embarrassing for Veleda, too, in a different way than for Elisif. As Baldur's speech ended, she realized that her heart was pounding like it did before a battle. She was still calm, but Ulfric's words made for a different reaction. Veleda could see it in the crowd. There were one or two scowling faces, but overall there was an energy that hadn't been there before, simply by the force of Ulfric's charisma. It was like a visible energy. Astounding. She realized then that she was smiling. "You're gods damned right," Rebec declared at the end of Ulfric's speech, more loudly than she intended. The solemn Grim Ones near her stirred, some of them trying to suppress grins. After Ulfric had made his short yet effective speech, he signaled for the old Nord priest in attendance to step up and get on with the annulment. As she did, she cleared her throat, feeling a bit ousted, having to speak after Ulfric Stormcloak. Before she spoke, she produced a scroll from her sleeve that rolled out down to her feet. "We stand here as witnesses to officially claim this marriage charter annulled along with the witness of all the gods, Akatosh, Kynaret-" Baldur cut her off and took the document from her hands, put off by the declaration of the Imperial gods. "This is all that remains of a past ridden in betrayal, oppression, kin slaying and a weak Skyrim! This is all that remains. A document formed to offset traitors and their ill spent time of fighting against their people. In the name of KYNE, SHOR, TSUN, STUHN, JHUNAL, YSMIR and TALOS! I declare with the authority of a follower of the old ways and a priest of war...this marriage...annulled!" Baldur turned to Veleda and winked when he said Jhunal, as reference to magic. Now he faced Rebec with the document in hand, holding it in front of her. "Got a light, Rebec? The admiral started to reach for her lighter, but a hand on her arm stopped her. "Allow me." Veleda approached the scroll, glanced at it briefly, and held up her un-gauntleted hand. The people in the first rows could see the scar on it. With a brief mumble of words, a gout of flame shot up out of the upraised hand, causing townspeople to murmur and some to jump. The mage bent and lit the bottom of the scroll, then stood back to watch as the flames licked up its sides, dissolving the king's marriage with it. She turned and regarded Ulfric, nodded once, and stepped back. "It is done. By the hand of Veleda Fire-Hand, soon to be your new High Queen!" said Ulfric, who walked off with half the men behind him, leaving Baldur to scatter the citizens. "The King has spoken! Long live Skyrim, long live High King Ulfric Stormcloak, and long live High Queen Veleda Fire-Hand!" Baldur waited for the noise of the crowd to die down before he signaled for the remaining men to scatter the citizens as he walked back to the group minus Ulfric. Veleda watched the scroll dissolve into ash, and looked up towards Elisif, but the jarl was already gone. The mage's eyes moving over the remaining curious onlookers, she felt a sensation like falling. It had been like this the night she fled the Imperial City two steps ahead of legion and Thalmor pursuers. The thin edge between what her life had been and what it had just become. There was nothing now but to return to her day's schedule of appointments, and write some letters. As she started out towards Castle Dour, she noticed the Red-Snows and stopped them. "That was your poem, General?" She smiled wryly. "Oh the proposal? Yes that was mine, although admittedly I made it before I knew who you were. If it means anything though, I think it fits just fine." he said. "You wrote her proposal poem?" Try as she might, Rebec couldn't keep the jealousy out of her voice. "Delivered by Galmar on one knee," Veleda replied, laughing. "If you can believe it. I'm not sure he'll ever forgive either me or the king for that. Or you, General Red-Snow." "Just obeying orders," said Baldur grinning slightly, looking to Rebec as he addressed them both. "Anyway, well done. I'd worry about a swollen ego except I'm sure soon enough I'll be hearing plenty about how the witch who's marrying the king will burn the palace down." "That's about the size of it," Rebec nodded. Veleda laughed and didn't seem too concerned. "I guess I'll see you soon. In Windhelm, if not before. Thank you for your praise, General. I should be off now, and try to convince my comrades I'm not pulling a big practical joke on them." "It was a pleasure, ma'am," said Baldur, nodding while putting his hand to his chest. When she was gone, Rebec watched after her a moment, then shook her head. "At least she's not Elisif." "Don't approve beyond that?" asked Baldur. "She's proven herself, I guess. If you and Galmar and Ulfric approve, who am I to argue. Sounds like she's got opinions. Ulfric may start to yearn for the day he had an empty-headed wife and got some peace and quiet occasionally." Rebec looked sharply at Baldur. "Don't say a word, Red-Snow." "Heh, I wouldn't dream of it. Keep up your yapping." Putting his hand over her shoulder as he walked, he said "You know, if I were crazy, I'd say someone was a little jealous," he said in a teasing voice. "Just don't get in the habit of writing love poems for other women. Tell Ulfric to write his own damn poetry." "Heh, fair enough. It wasn't a love poem though. It just said basically in so many words that the High King of Skyrim didn't have a real Queen, hey you, whoever he picked, you're better than Elisif. Wanna be Queen? And I threw in some talk of being a true Nord woman. It was only four lines, nothing like the book I wrote." "Alright. I'll keep Kyne's Talon in her sheath, then." Rebec slung her arm around Baldur's waist and enjoyed the last few minutes of their walk before they had to get some real work done. *** In the barracks of Castle Dour, Veleda had found the young Nord spellcaster she had singled out that morning. "Tell me how you learned spells," she said as they walked towards the courtyard for more testing. "From my mam," the lad replied. "My grandmother, that is, sir. Our family's always had magic." Veleda nodded her approval and walked onward to clear a space in the practice area. For a few more minutes, she wanted to pretend this was the only sort of responsibility she had on her plate.

Skjari, Dales Imperial palace Late afternoon Skjari was sitting in the war room, in the big seat meant for the empress. He was sitting with with his right arm on the armrest and his head slightly leaned forward to the side, resting the forehead in the right hand. Seated around the table was Lilly to his left, whom for this time had decided to actually wear a brassiere. And Tullius smoking his cigar sat at the other side of the table, slightly to the right, eyeing Lilly's chest when he thought she wasn't looking. Dales was seated to his right and looked a bit disappointed and curious about why she wasn't sitting in the chair meant for her. After another minute of waiting Skjari put down his arm and looked up at three, giving each of them a quick look. "Do you think this is a circus?" His voice was strict and commanding, with a strong undertone of anger that he failed to suppress. "I decided to look at some 'recent' reports and I find that the count of Cheydinhal have started to make claims to the throne, calling Dales a weak willed whore. And now I also have a bloody general who decided to show up out of nowhere and you, Dales, just gives him another legion without as much of testing his trustworthiness. And now you tell me he almost straight up challenged you. I thought you knew better than this. And the civil unrest in the south have broken up into riots. And on top of all that, Bravil has been taken over by a criminal skooma syndicate." "Things are going to shit aren't they?" Said the elderly general, taking a whiff from his cigar. "Cyrdoili is going to the dogs, or, a more likely scenario is civil war, or even worse, a military coup." Lilly, who was listening intently and seriously, said in a deadpan tone. "No thanks to you, mister brilliant general." Skjari rammed his fist into the table, using magic to cause the room to shake a little. "Enough!" He almost yelled out the word in fury before staying quite for a second and going back to his more casual voice, but the fury still lingered in his voice. "I don't care who's fault it is. A solution is what I want. First of all: Dales, you stop frolicking around, meaning no more women. I also want you to take away the 1st legion from the command of Jon Hurt-heart, you are going to be the commander of that legion. From now on you shall spend three or four days each week training strategy, leadership and swordsmanship with the legion. And Tullius will help her learn the ropes." "Me train the Empress?!" Said Tullius startled by the mages sudden burst of rage and fury, "Ah, well..." He looked at Dales before saying to him, "I suppose we don't have a choice do we? Alright." Dales who was lowering her head in shame of the entire situation said, "Yes sir. I'll have the paper-work done. Stripping the general of his legion will be a good first step, we still have to worry about his auxiliary troops however, one thousand strong or so I'm told." "Put them some paces outside the city, between two other legions. And they don't move an inch unless I say so. I want to figure this Jon out before I give him any freedom. And Lilly, keep an eye on him. I fear that his ambitions of purging the Elder Council can lead to civil war. That is the last thing I want right now. We also need to spread propaganda; the Dominion is a threat that wants to squash our lives into the mud under the heel of their boots and the only things standing between that is Dales. Now is the time to unite under her rule so we can defend ourselves. Anyone disagreeing with that statement shall be painted as a possible Thalmor supporter. Spread it throughout the legions, spread it throughout the whole damn Empire. And it's time for you, Dales, to start behaving like an empress that actually fits in on this description. And use the Dominion threat as the main statement of your rule. To protect the Empire." "It will be done, right away. I'll plant some informants and spies inside his auxiliary force. "Camp followers" will do very nicely." Said the spymaster. She got out of her chair, and told them "We have no time to loose, i'll begin the operation right now. " And with that, she left the war room fast on her heels. Tullius too got out of his chair "I'll send word to the 4th and 8th legion and order Jon's auxiliary force away from the city, i'll also file the paperwork to get Jon booted control of the first legion." And with that Tullius ran away from the large table and into the hallway, not stopping to bow to the two people. Dales who was nervously playing with her hair said, "Ummm...sir...I think...Samuel is on his side and giving him information." Dales told him about the note the nordic general showed him. "Well for some reason he seems to wants to sow strife between the new general and the Bathory family. I don't need more strife right now. I'll go and talk to Maggie, hopefully she will be able to tell me, or at least give me an idea of what his stakes are in all of this. I also need to tell her the trip has been postponed." He sighed. "And get a legion in to clean up Bravil, the city is now under martial law. And spread some propaganda in the south that rioting is helping the Thalmor. Maybe have posters with that message combined with a image of a rioting commoner whom is having string pulled by a Thalmor justiciar. And for Alduin's sake, stop playing with your hair. You're the empress. Start behaving like one." She stopped her hand, before nodding to to the Nord, "It will be done." She got out of her chair, and made her way out of the war room fast, but she stopped, before turning around and saying, "Ummm...master...you've been alive a very long time right? Haven't you made any extra ordinary allies that might be able to assist us?" "I never really had allies, they could more be considered subordinates. And they're all dead. Unless you mean the dragons, but with the Dragon Temple destroyed, they would be very reluctant to help mortals. I bet they're all hiding from the dragon hunters deep in the mountains. And I don't think I'm the best of terms with them right now either." He shook his head a little. "You behaved quite well at the coronation, why did you suddenly decide to start frolic around? Anyway, leave. You have duties to fulfill." Now his tone had grown more weary rather than strict and angry. "I don't know...you told me about all your accomplishments...and I kinda wanted to act like you." She said shyly as began to take her leave from the war room. Skjari remained in the chair and drew a deep sigh, she still had much to learn.