TheCzarsHussar

Baldur and Rebec, Solitude evening The sun was setting as Northern Lights pulled in to Solitude harbor. Mazoga was waiting for them on the quay. She had caught a ride to the city earlier in the week, while Baldur and Rebec stayed back to spend more time with Vigge. Rebec parted from Vilnur and Suri, sending them on towards her house in the city. “I rounded up the crew and paid them like you asked,†the orc told Rebec. “And I cleared most of them out of your house and got them settled in at flophouses. There might be some stragglers bedding down in your basement, but they’ve got orders to leave the family rooms to you.†“You’re worth every septim I pay you,†the admiral replied, smiling. “That was the good news. The bad news is that we still have to replace some missing crew, and the shipyard is backed up doing repairs on merchant vessels so the work on your ship had stopped. It’s got a frame, that’s all.†“That’s alright. Will give me a chance to make sure they do the important parts right.†“Speaking of important parts, I’ve got something to show you.†Rebec and Baldur followed Mazoga to the shipyard nearby. In an area marked off by a sign with Rebec’s name, there was a long, raw log of eastern Jeralls cedar. Mazoga handed Rebec a note. My dear admiral, With this note you will find a gift, in thanks for your part in defending our town and saving my life. I have heard that your ship was destroyed and that this was why you came to Falkreath. Perhaps Arkay led you here for more reasons than simply to save an old elf's life. You may remember that I enjoy walking in the nearby forests. On one of these walks, I spotted a tree which seemed to me supremely suited to making a large ship mast. From my youth in the Summerset Isles, I recalled the sort of tree that the shipbuilders sought out for this. If my judgment has erred, I trust you will at least be able to use the lumber for something else. Please give General Red-Snow my regards. Falkreath has suffered much, but we are recovering and will endure as we always have. In friendship, Runil When she was done reading, Rebec handed the note to Baldur, then knelt down and ran her hands along the tree bole. “Well, will you look at that. As pretty a mast tree as I ever saw.†Baldur wasn't really sure, as he didn't know much about the trees required for boats, but he assumed it was good. "What a sweet old man eh? Much better than the grumpy old one we'll be seeing soon." "Good old Runil. It's funny how things work out. Do you mean Galmar? Nervous about reporting in?" "Eh, not so much nervous as a feeling of dread. One feels nervous when they don't know what to expect. I know what to expect from him. Nag nag, more nag, then a pile of paperwork once I'm done on boring supply line shipments and recruit reports. All of which he'd have already looked over but "requires" my double checking them. Then there's the whole Markarth incident, part two. I'll have to explain why that happened and why I sent Grim Ones there..." Baldur sighed, already tired from the headache he was bound to get. "Hammerfell couldn't come any sooner." "That's military life for you. And that's why I always hated soldiers." She grinned, poking him in the ribs. "Alright, Maz, you've done good work here. Take a few days off, and that's an order. C'mon, Red-Snow. Ulfric will want to see us right away, I imagine. Maybe we'll make it in time for dinner and at least get a meal out of it." Baldur reluctantly moved ahead after a dramatic sigh. As the couple moved their way to the city gates, a lot of the men were nodding or putting their fists to their chests out of respect. Baldur was so used to being carefree in the short time they were gone, that he had almost forgot what it was like. Acting like a General, that is. He even adopted his stern no nonsense look once more, and also chewed out a young soldier who forgot to address him as General. This was one of the reasons why people didn't really take the rumors about his other disposition seriously. Most soldiers that interacted with him never got to see that side of him, and he preferred that. It was easy for those who knew him well to forget that he could be serious when he needed to. Even for himself. Especially around Rebec. It was starting to get darker, and upon entry, the city of Solitude was shrouded over with a warm cast of dark orange, with cool purple slowly overcoming it, indicating the coming of night. In the distance, Baldur could see the smouldering forge smoke in the distance from the forger closing up, and people rushing around to get to their homes. Baldur looked to his right and saw one of the snobby Altmer women at the radiant raiment looking in their direction. Specifically at Rebec. Baldur looked right back at her until she left his gaze, then spoke to the Admiral. "Hey, we should pay those two a visit later, eh? Show them real fashion with that dress of yours." Rebec glared sideways at the Altmer. "You want me to model for them? They'd make some excuse about how primitive it is, even if they couldn't ever make a dress like that in all their long, gods-cursed lives." As they walked, she kept looking behind and above them suspiciously, watching for the talking raven. She barely acknowledged the greetings of the guard, except for the ones she knew. Rebec's way with military decorum was to ignore it as much as possible. Baldur smirked slightly, thinking about the elven women. "They don't need to admit to anything. But they'll know it. Good enough I say. Just a suggestion. In case you feel like rubbing it in their faces later. You know, so I can have an excuse to get you in it again." "Aha! The truth comes out." Rebec put her arm through Baldur's, not caring if it wasn't proper decorum. As they passed the house- once Erikur's- she said, "I'll be glad when we're out of there. It never felt right, living there. That man tried to take my freedom from me, and would've taken it from all of us for the right price. I hope he's still rotting in the Blue Palace dungeons." "Oh I thought we decided to execute him? Huh, I never did pay much attention to the details on that. I was just glad you were let out. To think, the "great" Erikur, Mr. Thane is reduced to being someone's bitch right now, hehehe. Worthy punishment for that worm. No one messes with my Hull-Breaker." "They decided that execution was too good for him. I hear Elisif's court mage has ways to deal with favorite prisoners. That woman gives me the creeps. She and Witchie would get along." "They apparently do. Karsh told me he had dealings with her before. If I needed to use the cloth, he said she would do it by mentioning his name. Not that I'd need to considering my rank, so I don't need to mention him for such things. She may be Elisif's court mage, but Elisif is really only Queen by name. But not for long." "What, Ulfric's going to finally get rid of her? Why in Shor's name did he ever marry that spineless cow in the first place? Just look where it got him with imperial supporters like Balgruuf." "Well, they had to do something. The Jarls who were held up in Solitude instead of leaving into exile like they were told, stayed in Skyrim to start trouble. He wanted to leave them alive for political reasons, and relations, but Ulfric's hand was forced. So Ulfric to counter them so the Imperial supporters wouldn't get any ideas decided to use Elisif. Her of all people marrying the man she opposed so much made a lot of the Empire supporters torn on the issue, and when we caught the Jarls and executed them, that pretty much ended all talk of continuing the fight from most. It bought us enough time to round up the Jarls and their remaining resistance, and made sure their support didn't grow. Wasn't hard. I think they wanted to die or something, or they expected more support. But they didn't get it. They had a small militia and some mercenaries, and the legion never came to back them up at the time either. Should have just hid like Balgruuf and Tullius did. Guess they were desperate. Anyway, after that, Ulfric just kept her around because it was convenient. He was looking for someone to take her place ever since. Perhaps he found someone. Hopefully. I can't stand the thought of Ulfric spawning with her." Baldur spat at the ground at the thought. "Maybe I should find that Hagraven. She'd be a more suitable queen, don't you think?" Rebec eyed Baldur. "I think you and hags better steer well clear of each other." They had reached the Blue Palace courtyard, so she lowered her voice. "Let's hope he marries a proper Nord this time, someone who's maybe done a day's honest work in her life. But I'll let you tell him so, Unkindled. I've always been on thin ice with him." "Hah, and where do you think that leaves me? I'm no better. Galmar likes to say he's going soft on me, but don't you believe it. Galmar's just mad that Ulfric doesn't get on us about our professionalism as much now that we've proven ourselves." "I still haven't fully explained how you got captured in Falkreath, so there's that. Best we not bring it up." "What does it even matter at this point? It only served in our benefit in the end, anyway. I know my talk with that Gracchus helped a great deal in his being convinced. Had to get to their leader somehow. Not what I would have gone for, but a talk needed to happen. I doubt some 20 nothing year old pink princess who a day before was a Thalmor supporter and knew nothing of war would have convinced him. And my capture was a tactical error on my part anyway," said Baldur. Rebec shrugged. She still felt responsible, but wasn't going to argue. As the doors of the Blue Palace swung open, she half expected to see Melaran, Erikur's mage, loitering around the entrance as he used to do, spying on who was coming and going. Her stomach clenched reflexively, but of course Melaran was long gone. In only a year, so much about her life had changed. Some things hadn't changed. Falk Firebeard was still guarding the otherwise empty throne room, and glared at both of them when they entered. "Hello to you, too. Your mead go sour?" Rebec's voiced dripped in sarcasm. She and Firebeard never had gotten along. "Where's Ulfric?" "Baldur...." Baldur's ears perked up immediately at the familiar growl from his left. Baldur smiled and said without looking to him. "...Brund." Brund Hammer-Fang got up from a pillar he was leaning on and walked in front of Baldur, staring at him hard, not paying attention to Rebec's presence at first. Brund stood almost a head over him, but you couldn't tell it from how Baldur looked at him, smiling, but fierce all the same. "Good to see you too, Bull. Where's Ulfric?" "The King will be out shortly. He's in the back discussing things with Galmar." Brund finally noticed Rebec in the corner of his eye, but kept his glare on Baldur. "What are you two doing here, eh? Heard about some trouble in Markarth...." Brund said this ominously, obviously trying to make Baldur nervous. Baldur didn't know how much Brund disliked him, but he expected some rivalry and competition from him. This wasn't unexpected. "Some trouble, but we handled it." Rebec had left Falk and walked up to Brund, putting her hands on her hips and facing the big man with a challenging air. She hadn't seen the duel between her husband and Brund in Falkreath, but had heard about it. "As for what we're doing here, same thing as you, I expect. Reporting in." "I came to report in partly because I heard you two made a b-line for Solitude. Why is that, eh? You let your wife do the talking for you now, Baldur?" "When it suits me. As for why I came, none of your business. Or anyone's but the King. I assume the same goes for why you're here as well." "I already know why you came, you bastard. And if you think for one se-" "Brund! Back up before you start trouble!" Galmar came walking in from the back hallway entrance when he interrupted Brund's comment. Galmar looked like he was in a bad mood, as always. Brund wanted to continue his talk with Baldur, but he let it go. Brund may have been a General, but he knew better than to challenge Galmar when he was so fresh. "Rebec, Baldur. How have you two been? Nice of you to grace us with your presence..." "Uh, yeah." For once Rebec looked sheepish, because she had spent the better part of her term as admiral not on any ship, nor even near the sea. "We're here now and ready to work. Family things need sorting from time to time, even for kings and generals. Not that we were just lollygagging. Markarth is still a problem, no matter that the guards are wearing bears on their uniforms these days." "...Yes, Baldur filled us in through his order to send the Necro Nords. Ulfric would rather I wait to discuss that situation with you two at dinner. He's waiting. I'm sure he'd rather chew you two out himself..." Galmar walked off without saying another word. Brund gave a smirk and was about to continue where he left off before Galmar called out behind him. "That goes for you too, Brund! Move it!" Brund's smirk quickly receded while Baldur's was erected. "Run along, now." said Baldur. Brund got up and bumped Baldur's shoulder as he walked past, staying quiet as he did. For now. "Well, that's Brund. Warm guy, isn't he?" "What in Oblivion crawled into that guy's stovepipe?" Rebec didn't care if he heard her, and flexed her fist out of habit. In a lower tone she asked, "And what's this about chewing out? We didn't do a damn thing, this time." "Well, I suppose it looks bad having attention drawn to us over past affairs. Even if Hroki attacked you, the whole ordeal does seem unbeckoming. Then there's the threats I made. If you didn't have me stand down, who knows what could've happened. And there's also the men I lost on our trip to the barrow. All of this can be defended, but Ulfric likes to keep me on my toes. Nothing to worry about. As for Brund...I don't know really. First it was because he thought I got my position undeservingly, which I can't completely argue with him on that. I didn't do much to deserve it. I got it because we were in desperate need of talented leaders, and I happened to have Ulfric's attention. That and he's more qualified. Can't argue with that either. But I got him the job, so I don't know what else it could be besides competitive spirit or something." "He'd better steer clear of me, that's all I've got to say about that. Oh right, Hroki. With everything else that happened, I almost forgot that." She had to grin a bit, remembering putting that girl through the table. "Alright, let's get it over with." Rebec hated the formality of such places, and the groveling you had to do as an underling. For all that he'd been fair with her, she didn't like feeling indebted to Ulfric, either. Still, it could be worse. Elisif could be in charge. The group followed Galmar down the hallway until it reached the end which lead to a large open room with a long dining room table smack in the middle. It was what you would have expected of a dining room in the Blue Palace. Lots of ornaments, banners, candles chandeliers and pelts hung up on the walls. The large oak table had a long red cloth that stretched over the entire length of it. And at the end was Ulfric Stormcloak with a piece of mutton in his hands, which he now put down at the sight of the couple. Ulfric stood up from his chair and met Baldur half way to greet him. "Well well, look who it is. How you been, Baldur?" Ulfric stuck out his arm, which Baldur now grasped by the elbow joint as Ulfric did the same, then they patted each other on the back. A greeting of two friends rather than King and General. "I've been good, Ulfric. Real good." "So I've heard...." said Ulfric jokingly before turning to Rebec. Ulfric stuck his arm out for her as well. "And you Admiral? I trust you've enjoyed your trip home? That is, when you weren't beating up tavern wenches?" Ulfric didn't smile at first, but his lips eventually slinked one out, showing he had mixed feelings about the tale. Rebec laughed nervously and clasped the king's hand. She would've made a joke about defending Baldur's virtue, but no sense reminding Ulfric how silly the fight really was. "Just, ah... inspecting Skyrim's jails, sire." "Well take care to not wind up inspecting Solitude's. Again. I hear Erikur's feeling lonely down there." Ulfric let out a small chuckle before gesturing to a chair. "Sit. Eat." Mumbling, Rebec glanced at Baldur and took a seat. She was more nervous around Ulfric than he was. She had little history with the king, and most of what she did have was strained. Sea air made her hungry anyway, so she busied herself filling her plate. Ulfric sensed general unease, which at first he took to be from the inevitable criticisms he was about to dish out, but as he ate, and watched them all, it was clear the reason for it was really Brund. Baldur was eating some vegetable soup by soaking up the broth first with some bread, ignoring Brund's gaze from across the table. Galmar was watching him to see what he'd do. Brund just sat back in his chair occasionally drinking his mead, waiting for the conversation to start. Ulfric watched it all, interested to see how the two competing generals would act together. He had nothing against Brund, but he didn't like the atmosphere he brought in. To him, the group was family. Brund however, felt like the black sheep in the room. But it didn't matter at all in the end. "So, you two. Markarth. Tell me what exactly was the reason why you almost started a war with one of my most important supporters? I read the report, and as usual it was scant on details. Rebec?" "It wasn't our fault, Ulfric. The damn Silver-B-" "I said Rebec, Baldur," said Ulfric, cutting him off. Baldur never did get fully used to getting cut off like that. It made him feel like a child, and it angered him when it was done in front of Rebec. But Ulfric was the king, and there was nothing for it. Brund on the other hand was enjoying it immensely. Mouth full of food, Rebec was a moment in answering. It bought her some time. Wiping her mouth, she finally said, "You know we went out there to uncover the truth about what happened to my husband. My, uh... first husband. Right. Well, the man who arrested me was the very same that killed Toki. I did get in a bar fight, but what this captain really wanted was to find out why we were in the city, maybe get me into an 'accident' down there in Cidhna Mine. He was afraid his dirty deeds for Igmund would come out and Thongvar wouldn't be as understanding. When Baldur got me out, this Hevdil Silvertooth tried to do the same to us that he had to Toki. Ambushed us. It ended differently for him this time." She stopped, waiting to see how Ulfric would react. "And the barfight? The thing that kickstarted all this in the first place? Was that really necessary? It lead to you finding a corrupt guard Captain, but EVERYONE is corrupt there. And you found your husband's killer, but you could have figured that out without costing me men and risking the lives of a general AND the Admiral of my entire fleet. I would have been beyond pissed if your little scuffle caused a war with the most powerful family in Skyrim second maybe only to the Black-Briars." Ulfric noticed Baldur's look and he narrowed his eyes signaling for him to keep his mouth shut. He'd give him his time to talk soon. Rebec shrugged. "It was a little bar fight. The girl swung first, and I ended it. I'm not proud of it, but the reason it got out of hand was the corruption in the city. Anywhere else the girl and I would've worked it out, I'd have paid the damages and fine, and that would've been the end of it. Maybe you have to deal with the Silver-Bloods, but this is just an example of what people in Markarth have to put up with. The law isn't applied fairly. Think what would've happened to me if we'd been poor workers. I'd have disappeared into Cidhna Mine and probably never come out." She lifted her gaze and fixed it on Ulfric, challenging him a bit. "You must know yourself how 'justice' works in that city." Ulfric gave a weary sigh, but kept his gaze on her as she spoke. "Yes, I know the corruption is a problem. But my point is this could have been avoided. I don't have the time right now to deal with it head on and it would lead to too many complications in the region as it stands right now. The Silver-Bloods own too much of the property there, and what's more, they are big supporters financially of myself. Sadly, that means that my hands as of now are tied. In the mean time, I need my High Admiral to not get in fist fights with civilians and attract uneeded attention. Is that clear?" "Clear enough." Rebec glanced at Baldur and then her eyes dropped back down to her plate. It was worse than being lectured by a parent. Baldur saw Rebec's downcast face and put his arm over her shoulders. He knew how she felt all too well. Ulfric continued the discussion as the others ate. "That said, you are right about the corruption in the city. The fact that they even went as far as to challenge the authority of a general in the Stormcloak army shows that there are those who don't yet fully understand or recognise my authority. What do you think about the Grim Ones being sent to Markarth, Galmar?" Galmar was still eying Brund. He had talked to him previously before Baldur arrived because he knew that was the only reason he rushed from Markarth to get here. Looking away from him slowly to Ulfric, Galmar replied, "I think that it's going to cause some minor issues between us and the Silver-Bloods, but it's necessary. As Baldur said in his letter, they can't go unchallenged and be allowed to do anything. The guards could use the extra men anyway with this new war going on in the Reach. Baldur turned from Rebec with his arm still on her. "War? What war? We just left there and saw nothing unusual." "Brund here has decided to take up the fight against the Forsworn." Said Ulfric. "What do you think of that?" Baldur looked over to Brund with a confused expression on his face. "I don't get it. I mean, the Forsworn is a problem that needs to be attended to, especially with the second Great War in the horizon, but what is Brund doing here if he's fighting one?" "Excellent question. Brund?" said Ulfric. "I came to simply report in. I figured that a decision like this requires my presence t-" "Don't you think that you should have came to Ulfric BEFORE deciding to start a war on your own, Brund?" "I already had permission before I left, Red-Snow. I also came here to discuss a possible candidate for the next Jarl of Falkreath. I know that Stormcloak shop owner is holding the chair for now until a suitable replacement can be given, and I think I've found one. His name is Honmund. I found him when I was going to take care of the bandit issue. They aren't bandits, they're a mercenary band. He offered his men's help in the Reach for exchange of eventually being considered for the position." Brund didn't like being cut off and his glare hardened on Baldur after he did. Baldur's expression remained neutral. Baldur didn't know what it was that he had against him, but he was getting sick and tired of his attitude. "You want to give a mercenary band leader the position of Jarl? That's foolish. Their allegiances can't be trusted, especially their men. I know, I used to be in a merc band." "For now he only wants to be made a thane." said Brund. "What's the matter? You upset that I'm getting shit done while you were frolicking around Skyrim?" Rebec watched this exchange, the least qualified to talk about matters of Ulfric's army, but at least she had spent enough time in Falkreath to give an opinion. "Don't you think the citizens ought to have a say in who takes over as jarl? This man Honmund might've done you a turn, but a jarl speaks for the people in the Moot, and that's a big responsibility. If a merc wants to turn regular, well enough. I did that myself. But then let him prove himself in the military and work his way up the army ranks, like any other soldier." "Oh? You mean like how your husband went from Captain to General after one mission? Heh, right. Next time, speak when spoken to, bitch." Baldur bolted up from his chair now, and this time he was visibly angry. "Watch how the **** you speak to Rebec. She's a HIGH Admiral. Meaning she outranks you. And I went on more than one mission as Captain, you moron. Falkreath is simply the only one most know about." "And who I decide to promote and when is none of your damn business, Brund. Don't forget who is King, here. And who gave you the recommendation in the first place." Brund stood up now as well to meet Baldur's look. Baldur's breath could be heard fluttering as he struggled to keep his temper down. Brund started to smile, because he finally found Baldur's weakness. "Tell me, why is the Admiral of the Stormcloak fleet, never at sea, eh?" "Because my ship's at the bottom of the Sea of Ghosts, you elf-brained oaf. And as we found out from the battlemage who sunk it himself, they were targeting my ship because we were winning. So stick that in your ugly mug and choke on it. Whose side are you on, anyway, Brund? The imps were easier to deal with than you. Seems like we got better things to do than fight amongst ourselves." Brund didn't pay any attention to her insults. As he chuckled, Brund continued. "Last time I checked, Admiral, there are other ships in the sea. What is stopping you from using a different ship until this one is built in the meantime, hmm?" "The naval war was already all but won when I went to Falkreath, and from what we did in down there, the imps took their ships home without another crossbow bolt being fired. So all you're doing is arguing for the sake of flapping your jaws. Anyway I take my orders from the king, not from the likes of you." Rebec turned to Ulfric. "Isn't it obvious what's going on here? Brund can't stand that Baldur won the war for you, so he's got to make out his dick's a hair longer so you'll ignore the obvious. Baldur got the job done. So did I." "He also got captured by Thalmor and had to get saved by Imperials to get out. A fact people like to forget." "And during my capture, I helped convince the Imperials to stop the war and fight against the Thalmor. A fact people also like to forget." said Baldur. "Enough, you two. We all know what the real underlying issue here is and why Brund is trying to antagonize Rebec. This is about the position of High General. Brund is trying to make a point, but he's not doing a good job of making it." said Galmar. Galmar looked to Ulfric, who nodded at him to say continue. "What Brund was trying to get at is that you and Baldur have jobs that may require you to be separate at some point. Possibly for long periods of time. Is that going to be an issue in the future?" "And why is that? Rebec can still do the job of a High Admiral and be with me, am I correct? All that is required of Rebec is that she tell the fleet where it needs to go, what strategies to use, and what designs to use on the ships." said Baldur. Afterwards, he looked to Rebec to say "right?" as he wasn't entirely sure. She stirred in her chair. There was more to it than that, and she knew it. Rebec herself wouldn't respect a leader who led from behind. "If there's another naval war, someone needs to be out with the fleet making the important decisions in the field. For now, establishing better warning systems and building up the fleet is all we need to do. If it comes down to it and I can't do the job, I'll step down, simple as that. I don't need to have a title to feel important." With that, she cast a pointed glare at Brund. The room stayed quiet for a while as they waited to see what Ulfric would say. Stepping down may not have bothered Rebec much, but Baldur didn't like the thought of losing her position. But he also knew being separate from Rebec for long periods of time while her life was in danger wasn't an option either. Ulfric seemed angry at the response, but when he spoke, he sighed and closed his eyes while his head was rested in his hand. "Hearing you say that you'll step down was the last thing I wanted to hear, and it does show me a point that Galmar has kept hitting home to me over and over. Which was that you two are a weakness to each other. That said, you also seem to make a good team, as Falkreath has shown, and it looks like if I want you, I have to get both of you together. So if stepping down as High Admiral is what you think you'll need to do, then so be it. All we needed was for someone with the know-how to show the other Captains what to do, so we can find a good enough replacement. Hopefully that won't be necessary, however. In any event, there is still the issue of High General." Rebec looked from Ulfric back to Baldur. She didn't really want him to have that job. It would mean more responsibility, more conflict, and a target on his back from Brund and others like him. Someone needed to do it, however, and Baldur deserved it. "I'm biased, King Ulfric, you know that. But maybe not in the way you think. I'd rather have more of Baldur to myself and give less of him to Skyrim, but that's not the way he does things. So if you're asking my opinion, then I'd say you give it to the one who's proven he can get the job done with minimal loss of life. Baldur's not just a war leader, he can talk to people. He helped convince the imp general to turn on the Thalmor, and kept the people in Falkreath on our side." She gestured at Brund disdainfully. "Does it look like this one with all his swagger can do as much?" Brund's face had gone red from flushing with anger, mainly because he knew really what she had said was right. Galmar was thinking that if Rebec wasn't going to be a High Admiral in the future, that the talk of Rebec being a weakness wasn't as big an issue. But it was still there. Anything could happen in battle, and if anything did to Rebec, Galmar knew Baldur would be broken. As did Ulfric. However, at the end of the day there was the man who was good for the job and the man who was not. Ulfric turned his attention to Brund now. "Brund? You have something to say in response?" "Yes, I do. The High General is a position that requires someone with experience. So far, Baldur has gotten lucky. That is all. He hasn't really proven himself capable of doing the job. I on the other hand have been a Legate before. I've fought in the great war, and I know how both the Empire AND the Thalmor work. Baldur may be able to woo tavern wenches and ship captains, but I built my resume on a river of blood while he was still trying to grow a beard. And I unlike Baldur don't have such a large weakness as a wife that comes to battle with me to worry about. "My wife isn't a weakness, despite what has been said. She is a smart individual, and her advice during the Falkreath siege was crucial. She also made sure that things carried on as normal when I was captured. I've said it time and time again. We have both proven ourselves. You may have more experience under your belt, but I have more victories. And I am also the one who brings people into a position where they can be useful. Say what you want about me and Rebec getting together in Neugrad, but I was right about her when I said to use her instead of arresting her. She was the best thing to happen to Skyrim since the dragonborn. Without her knowledge, that blockade would have fucked us. And despite you being a major ass, Brund, I have the same feeling about you as far as you being useful goes, which is why I recommended you. But you're starting to make me regret it." "YOU, Red-Snow, only recommended me because you knew you could piggyback off of my success and gain more favor with the King like you're doing now with Rebec!" proclaimed Brund. "I am only pointing out that I am the reason why she was put in the position to do the job, not taking her well earned credit. And when you start getting success, let me know." Baldur was wondering why Ulfric hadn't butted in yet, but he figured that Ulfric was studying the two, seeing who he thought was more fit for the role. Brund responded to Baldur's comment with a snort from his nose as "the Bull" was known to do, and more angry grunts. "Nobody's here to take away what you did in the war, but there's luck and then there's making luck happen," Rebec said. "Baldur does that, because he's smart and knows when to take chances and when to back down. Why don't you just go ahead and tell the king what you really think? That he plays favorites and is soft on his friends? At least he's got friends, men who fight for him and for Skyrim and not their own glory. That's a strength, not a weakness. Baldur and I work well together because we trust each other, and know each other. We can count on the man next to us not to stick a knife in our backs for his own gain. Like you're doing right now." "I told you to shut up, bitch! This is a conversation between men. Not s-" "Another word, Brund. Another word to her an-" "And you'll do what? Hmm? What are you gonna do, big man? Huh? What are you gonna do!" "I think I'll reenact that duel we had, first. Beat you into the ground again." said Baldur. Brund could no longer contain himself or his frustrations. Before Baldur knew it, the large nord was up on the table crouching to Baldur's eye level staring him straight in the eyes, and was close enough for Baldur to feel his breath from his nose on his face. "Let's see you try, pretty boy. This time I'll make sure you're out." "Brund! Get the hell off of my table! Stand down!" said Ulfric. "I said NOW! You too Baldur. Back off." Rebec stood, table knife still in her hand, and sorely tempted to put it into the big man's eye. She knew better than to do that, though. Laying a hand on Baldur's arm, she looked back at Ulfric. "It's your decision, sire. You going to let them kill each other before you make it? I'll tell you what I think. Baldur's the kind of man that men want to follow. This one, he needs power because men wouldn't follow him any other way. That's what people said about you, about why you wanted to be king, but it isn't true, and you need a man like you to lead your armies. Whatever you decide, we'll do our duty either way." Turning back to Brund, she pointed at him with the knife. "Can you say the same?" Before Brund could get the chance to answer, Ulfric spoke up again. "I said stand...down, Brund. NOW. If I have to tell you again, you'll regret it...." Ulfric stood up from his chair now and narrowed his eyes at him. Brund didn't waste any further time, and he finally hopped off the table back to where he was standing before. Baldur calmed down a bit and let out a sigh from his adrenaline settling, then spoke once he felt his head was clear. You know Brund, originally I actually put you up as general because I wanted someone else to take this spot. Before we got here today I told Rebec I'd go for it, but I was ready to push you up for the job. Until I saw the way you were acting, even after I thought we settled our differences in Falkreath. I feel betrayed right now to be honest, and very confused as to why you hate me so much. But it is clear to me that you can't lead all of our men with Ulfric. I feel obligated to take this responsibility now. If Ulfric will have me." "I don't believe that horse shit for a minute, Baldur. You don't fool me with your words, minstrel. You and your whore wife can go **** off. Maybe I can help with that....heheh-" "That's it!" Baldur had enough. Without further warning, Baldur jumped across the table and tackled Brund to the ground, savagely pounding away at his skull as he did. Brund grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down to headbutt him in the face. Once dazed, Brund punched Baldur in the face then pushed him from off of him so he could get up. "You fucked up now, Baldur!" as he said this, Brund sent a kick to Baldur's skull, but Baldur grabbed the leg and lifted him up in the air while his left hand was on his neck. "I told you, bitch. Don't talk about my wife!" "Baldur, stop! St-" Galmar had called out, but Ulfric put a hand on his shoulder. "Let them work it out a bit. Get the aggression out." Galmar looked at Ulfric completely bewildered, but he bowed to his judgement. While Ulfric said this, Baldur had slammed Brund over the plates and slided Brund through the food, then onto the floor off the table. Brund quickly got up off the floor, then grabbed a bowl of soup and threw it in Baldur's face, then followed up with two punches that sent Baldur falling back into the table. As the two continued to fight, Ulfric just shook his head and continued eating as he watched. Rebec stood back against the wall, her fists flexed. Every fiber wanted to jump in and help reduce Brund to pulp, but that would only make things worse, and it would get out to the men that the general needed his wife's help to beat a bully. It didn't stop her from yelling encouragement, though. "Get to it, Red-Snow! Kick his ass so bad his bitch mother feels it in Oblivion!" Brund turned to glare at Rebec for a split second, which in that time, Baldur grabbed a plate and broke it over his head. Brund merely looked back at him and glared before sending a strong right hook his way, which Baldur dodged by pivoting around him. Brund managed to grab his left arm however, then he hooked it with his arm along with his right arm, then Brund bended forward, suspending Baldur in the air on Brund's back, causing great pain in his arms. Baldur cried out in pain briefly, to which Brund took great pleasure in hearing. "Yes! Call out for me like your wife!" said Brund as they were back to back. Baldur responded by lifting his legs and placing them on the wall. While his feet were there, Baldur pushed from the stone walls as hard as he could, sending Brund rushing face first into the table. Baldur rolled backwards over his back and pulled Brund's cape over his head, blinding him while he proceeded to pound his face in. Brund threw his arms up to get the cape out of his face, then he grabbed Baldur by the neck after getting off the table and lifted him off his feet to slam him into the walls once, twice, three times, rattling his brain and causing his vision to blur. As Brund prepared for the fourth slam, Baldur sent his gauntleted fingers flying into Brund's eyes which made him drop Baldur immediately. As Brund roared out in pain, Baldur jumped and sent his feet flying into his chest sideways, kicking Brund back and making him fall backwards over the table. Brund took a little longer to recover this time, as did Baldur. But when they did, Brund walked over to the wall behind him and picked up his fanged hammer and pulled it out of it's leather sheathe. Baldur responded by unsheathing his twin axes from his waist. The two in that instant came charging at eachother over the table, about to collide with their weapons when- "FUS!" Ulfric sent a shockwave from his voice that sent all the food and plates flying off the table, and also stunned the two rivals before things got deadly. When they recovered, Brund raised his hammer and was about to continue. "You don't want me to use the next two words, Brund." It was now Ulfric's turn to draw his axe as well. Brund quickly sheathed his hammer now and got back off the table. Both Baldur and Brund were a bit bloodied from the fight. Brund had some food and bits of broken glass in his mohawk and a bloodied lip, and possibly a broken nose that also was bleeding. The top of his head was also cut open a bit from Baldur's gauntlets hitting it. Baldur had broth in his hair and some blood on the back of his head as well as a bruised bleeding cheek and cut lower lip. Ulfric turned to Galmar. "You were right again, old friend." "Of course I was." They were referring to a bet of if the two would end up fighting. "Okay, that's enough of that. Both of you fools have problems that are more than undesireable. Baldur, you need to learn to stop showing off in front of your wife. And Brund, you need to learn when to keep your mouth shut. You don't talk about a man's wife and expect anything less than steel to be drawn. You two are supposed to be the esteemed generals of the Stormcloak army! Instead, you act like children. I'll give my decision later. I have a person in mind, but after this little display, I don't feel right giving the news right now. Out of my sight, all of you!" Rebec picked herself up off the floor, cursing, and brushed the contents of someone's plate off her front. There was more food in her hair, too, but she ignored that and hurried over to Baldur, reaching up to inspect his bloodied cheek. "Are you alright? Gods damn that stubborn fool." Baldur was still sporting his face reserved for killing and murderous intent, and leaned his head away from her hand when she went to touch his cheek. "I'm fine. Let's just go." Brund watched him shortly before he turned away as he walked out of the room to leave the palace. As far as he was concerened, the night was a success. He got Baldur to attack him and put on full display his weakness through Rebec. The fact that he had to display his was of little consequence. Elisif, who had been absent the entire time was in her room which was now separate from the King's laying in her bed. While the fighting went on, she said to herself "Savages. Look at what this place has become." Ulfric got up to go to bed. On his way to his chambers he told Galmar to get the maids to clean the place. They knew the drill. It wasn't the first time Ulfric had to use his thu'um at dinner. Muttering, Rebec walked along beside Baldur. She didn't speak until they were outside. "That troll's ass tries something like that again and at the next dinner he'll have my axe as a toothpick. You make him general and this is how he treats you?" "I don't understand it myself, love. He just seems to see bad intentions in everything people do I guess. He was never like this before we confronted eachother in Falkreath." Baldur could feel blood trickling down his cheek still, and tried to wipe it off with his gauntlet. "If Ulfric hadn't stopped us, I would have killed him. Thanks for having my back in the discussion. I don't think I'd have said all those things myself." "I wanted to keep my mouth shut since it's between you two and the king, but I just told the truth. That guy would be a disaster. I guess this is what we have to look forward to, now that people like him don't have the Thalmor to turn their anger towards. Peace is probably harder for Nords than war." "Yes, sadly that is true. Well, we'll have a fun story to tell the others when we get home." Baldur placed his arm around Rebec's waist as they walked back home. The auroras were out in a spectacular display of orange and purple, although not quite as prominent as it would have been in other parts of Skyrim. "By the way, I have a surprise for you on our way there." She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You sure you don't want a bath first? We both smell like we had a cook pot turned over our heads." "Hmm? Oh wait, you mean-" Baldur started laughing when he thought he realized what she meant. "Why is it that you think my surprises are always sex related, you little minx? No, it's something else." Rebec grinned. "No sex? Alright then. As long as we don't have to put up an appearance anywhere, either." It didn't take long for the two to arrive at where this surprise apparently was. It was a simple two minute walk from the Blue Palace. The Bard's College. When they got there, Baldur had Rebec wait in the street for a moment while he ran up to the back door to knock. The door opened up partly, then Baldur and someone else from inside exchanged some words before the door was shut again. Afterwards, Baldur walked back to Rebec and placed his arm around her shoulder. "Okay, my friend will be out shortly." "Don't tell me you're going to play King Olaf at their next shindig. Better get free mead if you do." She never took the bards' college very seriously- like sailing, it seemed a thing you learned by going out and doing it- but she couldn't object to an excuse to drink and carouse. Before Baldur could respond, the door to the building burst open with a tall linky figure wearing blue quilted noble attire coming out with two books in his hands. It was an altmer with golden long hair that stood up on his head and a knotted beard. Strange sight to see, at least for Baldur. An altmer with a nordic styled beard. "Baldur! I have go-" "Shh! Not so damn loud, Viarno!" said Baldur. "Right, right. You're still anonymous. You should know that this is no longer the case..." "What do you mean it's no longer the case? I told you not to tell anyone!" "Well, poetry and story appraisers are very good at sniffing that sort of thing out. Apparently from your subject matter and some snooping around, they found you out..." Baldur's brow knit, but it quickly subsided. "I thought that I would be angry at this, but I intended to go public with this little side project eventually anyway." "Ah! And this must be the famous Rebec Red-Snow herself! The woman that enspired twenty one different poems from one man. A pleasure to meet you!" said Viarno as he bowed to her. Rebec watched the exchange with confusion, and just stared at the Altmer as he bowed to her. "Twenty... Baldur, what's he going on about? What side project?" Viarno started smiling and handed the books to Baldur. While he held them in his hands, Baldur said, "I've been trying to write a number of things lately, books of stories and such. But since we last were here, while you were sleeping and I told you I was doing reports, I was actually writing poetry. About you. I'm not a member of the college yet. I'm just using their publishing services for now. How'd they do, friend?" "Well, the first book didn't do too well outside of Skyrim appraisers. Tales of war and bloodshed aren't something that most people want to hear about right now with the Great War looming over our heads again. It's good work, but just not the right time. So I'm afraid that was gold poorly spent for publishing. However...." Viarno slapped a hand over the other book in Baldur's right hand. It had various little pressings into the leather of talons and hawk eyes as well as hawk feathers into its design, and clearly was the one that Baldur had paid for more. "This one...was very well recieved. Especially in High Rock and Cyrodiil. The appraisers there are always interested in literature from Skyrim because it's a province not very well understood. That alone helped it get noticed over the other new coming artists. It's fantastic! It's not just a book of love for a woman. It makes the reader fall in love too. With you, miss Red-Snow." "The book is called "A Gift of the Hawk". I'll let you read a few when we get out of the dark." said Baldur. "You wrote a book about me? One that imps and Bretons like? This has got to be some kind of joke. Very funny, Baldur. Ha ha." "I'm serious. You'll see when we get home." Baldur was glad that it was dark so that Viarno couldn't make out the messy state that the two were in. "Thanks again Viarno, I really appreciate the help." "Don't mention it, Red-Snow. It was a pleasure to assist the world's first general poet. Ha, and to see the first woman to turn a nord into a Breton! You should go to the College of Mages!" Baldur gave the altmer a playful punch in the gut that hit him harder than he had meant to, which Viarno tried to play off with laughter. "Hahah- ow, hahehe....yea. And remember, the appraisers liking it is a good sign, but what the people think is still up in the air. Don't think its success is a sure fired thing, but I heard the bard in the winking skeever singing one of them before. So take that as you will. Goodnight you two!" "Goodnight Viarno." said Baldur. Rebec glanced at the book in Baldur's hand. "You're really serious? I mean, don't get me wrong, I love your songs. Everyone does. I just..." She stops, not wanting to detract from what was clearly important to him, and anyway she couldn't explain that she felt odd about how Baldur wrote about her. It seemed like the woman in his poems was some other woman, not her, and she didn't know whether to be jealous of this woman or not. "I know it's odd, which is why I wanted it to stay anonymous at first until you actually read them for yourself. I think I shot myself in the foot when I sent that poem to Dales for Marius' funeral. They could have compared the styles and made an educated guess. But anyway, yes I'm serious. What are you thinking? Truthfully. You won't hurt my feelings or anything." Baldur was a little nervous to show her the contents of the book, moreso than complete strangers. What she thought was very important to him, and he wanted to know it truthfully more than anything. Not just what she thought he wanted to hear. She was silent a moment, trying to sort out her thoughts and not say something that would hurt him. This was all new for her. Finally she said, "It's like if someone paints a picture they say is you, and it's a pretty picture, but it doesn't look like you at all. I saw your poems about me in your journal. They don't seem like me, like I really am. It's like they're about some other woman. I worry sometimes..." Rebec stopped again, but forced herself to complete the thought. "I worry you're going to wake up someday and realize I'm not her, and be disappointed." Baldur gave a relieved sigh and a smile, as that wasn't what he thought she was going to say. "Well then, you have nothing to worry about. Because that will never happen. Even when your hair is greyed, and your bosom sags to the floor, you'll still be the same beautiful woman I married. It's all perspective. Your father sees you as one way, your friends see you in one way, and this is how I see you. How you see me is probably nothing like how I see myself. But you'd know better because you can see my face every day without a mirror. Make sense?" After a pause, she said, "I don't know, Baldur. All this bard talk makes my head hurt. Don't think I'm not flattered. Amazed, actually. Let's get home and clean up so I can see just how much horker dung you're shoveling in there." She grinned and took his hand. The walk to Erikur's house was a short one. Inside, Rebec found that Mazoga had hired a maid to clean up after the sailor mess, and the pantry was stocked and the hearths all warm. Vilnur and Suri had put their things in the guest rooms, but were off somewhere, probably seeing to his ship's cargo. In the their suite, Rebec started stripping down and washing herself. One thing Erikur's ill-gotten gains had paid for was a hot water system that ran from a boiler in the basement. It kept the stone floors and walls warm, and allowed for hot water from the tap, a luxury that was especially nice on cold nights. When she was clean and in fresh woolens, Rebec cracked open a mead and sat down to read Baldur's book. Baldur too had washed up, but he was only wearing woolen trousers. It took a little while to get all the food and bits of blood out of his hair, but the warm waters from their house helped with that, and also his bruised cheek. Baldur walked in the room and grabbed the book from Rebec's hand before she started to read. "Not so fast, miss Hull-Breaker. There's some things I need to explain about it first." Sitting in a chair opposite of her, Baldur signaled for her to come over and sit on his lap. Grinning, Rebec complied. "What's all the mystery for? And how come you wanted to publish them anonymously anyway? Because of horkerbrains like Brund?" Baldur placed his head on her chest and sighed in comfort from her warmth. He opened up the book to the title page which had a picture of a hawk staring right at the reader with a shining orb in it's talons. The "gift" of the hawk, clearly being Rebec, and the hawk being Kyne. "There's just a certain way you need to read these. They're love poems, so they're naturally a little corny. For that, it's best that we take it slow when you read them, so I want you to read them one at a time, maybe once a night so you can take time to digest each. I admit, this is a side of me that I wasn't as ready as I thought I'd be to show the world. I'm supposed to be a war leader, and the men may get the wrong idea. But I was about to tell Viarno to go ahead and reveal my name if you were comfortable with doing so. This isn't just going to get my name out. People will wonder who exactly is this woman that I'm so infatuated with. The first poem in the book is the most important one. It sort of rubs you in the face of the reader. To brag, so that people will wonder what makes you so great and actually want to read further to see. As Viarno said, it's not just to show my love for you, it shows others you the way I see you." Rebec cradled his head and played her fingers idly through his hair. "I made you nervous, didn't I? Don't be. You're good, Baldur. As good as anyone in Cyrodiil or High Rock. As for our names being out, I guess that ship sailed already because of our ranks. Maybe you'll show another side of Skyrim, show that we're not all about axes and mead." Baldur put a finger on the page, but paused at the mention of their ranks. "You know, you don't have to be the one who gives up their career. If I have to I can be the one to step down. I didn't want all this anyway. I can find a more suitable replacement over Brund." "You don't think I'm going to be out there directing naval fights with a baby on my hip, do you? Let alone the army of little Red-Snows you want to bring into the world." She grinned, nuzzling his temple. "Don't worry about me. I never expected to be admiral and don't care who does it, as long as the job gets done." Baldur loved it when she nuzzled him that way. The feeling always gave him tingles down his spine and a sense of safety that was strange to feel as a man. At least to him. It was like being in a bubble with the two inside and no one else could get in or hear what they were saying. Like it was only the two of them in the world. "If you say so. I suppose I just liked the idea of the High Admiral and High General being together. The army and navy joined. Domains of Kyne and Shor. My inner bard likes the symbolism, as I bet Ulfric did too. He has a thing for wanting to make a good story." Baldur was still looking at his fingers holding the page, and wasn't sure why it was hard for him to turn it. He did after all want her to see. But after her words, he was afraid that maybe his poems put too much pressure on her to be a certain way that she thought maybe she wasn't. Baldur didn't see it that way, but she did, and Baldur thought that it may have been unfair to her. "It's just a title. No one really rules the sea. First time you think that, Kyne will remind you who's really in charge." She poked a finger in his ribs. "Come on, you're stalling now. Let's hear it. Read the first one to me." Resting her head back, she closed her eyes and readied herself to listen. "You're right. Same applies to the battlefield. Even Shor found that out the hard way." Grinning at how she saw through him so easily, Baldur finally relented and turned the page. He knew most of the poems by heart and didn't really need the book to say them, but he enjoyed the feel of the book in his hands with Rebec in his arms to see it. Finally Baldur looked over the page and read: Mundane is your world to me By Baldur Red-Snow Mundane is your world to me, from the land to the sea, 1 But this woman in my life is not, and my world…is she, Nirn is a poor imitation, of my love and it shows, Her skin is so fine and fair, the best you have is snow, I see trees as green as envy, an emotion I do not bear, 5 For my eyes have seen better. These trees, they don’t compare, Some say they are Kyne’s gift, a thought that I don’t share, My eyes see ugly weeds when compared to my love’s hair, What else is in this world, which you mistake for glory? Think mountains are magnificent? I’ll tell another story, 10 I am a man of Skyrim, I know the bosoms of this world, My love shamed them all when I first saw hers unfurled, Or what about the sun, the way to Aetherius? Think that you see beauty? Ha! You are delirious, You need the sun’s rays to part dark nights from the days, 15 But my days are eternal, for I alone hold my love’s gaze, Kyne’s birds sing in the morning to imitate her voice, You all accept this for beauty, for you all have little choice, Her lips caress mine softer than even the ripest peach, Her passion moistens over more than high tides on the beach, 20 You think this world is beautiful? Feel free to keep pretending, Like war, my love’s great beauty is a season that is unending, Pity is what I feel for thee, who dwell under these skies, For what you fools call beauty is petty through mine eyes, Please forgive my arrogance, do not judge me harshly, 25 For my world is my love, that’s why mundane…is yours…to me. Rebec sat very still as he recited, and for some moments after he was done. Then she sat up, and her eyes were moist with tears when she opened them. "Baldur, I don't know what to say. I've never heard anything like that before. It's beautiful. Puts the tavern bards to shame." She was amazed at his gift, a little afraid of it, especially because she didn't have his eloquence and her praise seemed empty in comparison. Baldur closed the book and laid it on the floor before meeting her eyes. "I'm glad you like it. And I don't want you thinking that you have to act a certain way with me to be the woman in this book. All you have to be is yourself. The cursing and vulgar statements, the spitting, all of it. A diamond in the rough is made more beautiful for being the way nature intended it to be. I made sure to portray that in some of the other poems. So you don't think I ignore what you may consider faults. The faults are what make you you. And I love them for it." Chuckling, she said, "You got poems about me spitting and swearing in there? That'll go over really well with the snooty milk drinkers." Rebec's expression sobered and she reached over to caress his bruised cheek. "You know I can't ever say things like you say them. I'll tell you this, though, Red-Snow. I love you as much as any woman can love a man. I'm glad you wrote that, too. About how I love you back." "I put the "rough" stuff in a more nuanced way, but of a sort, yes. I couldn't do you justice without showing those poor fools what makes a real woman real." Baldur started to laugh at the memory of Rebec's sailor act, but it stiffened and he grew serious. "I know you aren't a bard like me, but that's fine. I like your way of expressing your thoughts better anyway. I know you love me because I can feel it. Like when I compared your look on me to the sun's rays of light. I can feel it like heat. Or when we kiss, I can feel it through the effort you put into it. That in it of itself is poetry. In your unique way. All poetry is is a way to express one's thoughts and to make others feel what you feel." "It's not just that I haven't got the words. Even if I did, I'm not sure I'd put it out there for strangers to see. They don't deserve it and some won't appreciate it. I know it's important to you, though. I don't mind you writing that book or publishing it. They're your words, even if they're about the both of us." Baldur put his head back under Rebec's neck on her chest and put his hand over her stomach under her shirt, thinking about the child again. "It's true that most won't fully appreciate what the point of this book is. But that's okay with me. I did it for you anyway, not them. To show you even with how mushy this all is, I don't care to show others because that's how much I care for you. The only person's opinion I truly care about is yours. Even if the book didn't do well, I'd have given it out to sellers for free if you liked it." "I do. It's beautiful. Nobody's ever given me anything like that before. I can't give you a gift like that, but I'm going to do my best to give you something else. There's wonders in Tamriel that a bard like you ought to see. Once I've got a ship again, I can take us to some of them, then you can write about them." "I can't wait to see them. You already have given me something like this though. And you're about to again." Baldur tapped her stomach slightly referencing the child. "That's why I did this. To try and give you what you gave me." Rebec smiled a little, despite the worry the subject of a baby caused her. "It's not like a spigot you turn on and off. It could be a while before I get pregnant. Not that we aren't trying for it with gusto. Just... don't expect me to be getting fat tomorrow or the next day." "Oh I know. It's gonna be great fun seeing you swell up like a cow, hehe. I'll have to start pampering and catering to your every need, and stop drinking mead so its not so hard on you." "No time like the present for that. The pampering, I mean, not the mead withdrawal. Gods, don't remind me about that part." She leaned in and kissed at his ear, nipping at it with her teeth, her breath warm on his neck. "Do I get to hear another poem? Or have I got to earn it first?" Baldur felt at ease enough to fall asleep right there in the chair, but Rebec's familiar nipping soon sobered him up, awaking another familiar feeling. "If I let you read too many at once, they'll start to get old." Smiling, Baldur returned the favor and grabbed at Rebec's ear, massaging them by rubbing her lobe between his lips, tugging at them hungrily. "Unless you think you can force another one out of me that is." "Maybe I'll inspire a new one." She turned and straddled his lap, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. Images of him fighting Brund over her returned to her mind and stirred her up even more. There was no need to go to the bed. The chair would work just fine.

Lorgar Haafinger Hold Dusk Lorgar wandered the desolate marshes and high peaks of Haafinger hold, avoiding Stormcloak patrols and civilians for a full week, stomping through the mud and the rain, and fighting Skyrim’s many creatures. He had been searching for more recruit options, stalking famous bandits and other members of ill repute. If they matched their reputation of fighting and leadership skills, he would offer them membership with his Bloodwolves. If they accepted, and he knew they weren’t deceiving him, he would give me instruction on where to go, and a purse of coins. If they refused his offer, he would silence them permeantly. Maybe, the elite “Grim-Ones†of the Stormcloak army would stand a chance against him, but bandits were simple and easy to kill, especially the ones who he knew were overhyped in their skills. Lorgar had just finished talking with the chief of an all Orc bandit clan, the Shatter-spears. They were hiding out in a cave relatively near Dragonsbridge. Their leader, Ghazuli Shatter-spear was rumored to be a cunning strategist, and an excellent warrior. Lorgar had observed a practice match between Ghazuli and ten of his men, and watched Ghazuli fight off all of them unarmed, and beat the shit out of each one. Further reconnaissance, led to Lorgar finding out that the area they were in was drying out of targets, and Stormcloak patrols were stepping up. It didn't take long to convince the bandit chief for him and his men to join up with the Bloodwolves, on the condition he was given personal command of his men and an officer position among the command staff, in which Lorgar was happy to oblige. Lorgar knew when he saw a good officer, and Ghazuli was one. Furthermore, him and his men were rare in that they were highly disciplined heavy infantry, fighting in full Orcish armor, using a combination of arrow fire and axes to bring down there targets. Lorgar had just left the cave, when the moon was beginning to arrive in the night sky, The shatter-spear clan will make an excellent addition to the Bloodwolves ranks. That’s the third bandit clan to sigh on; hopefully Maria is taking care of their recruitment of sellswords. Everything is going according to plan. Lorgar followed the game path down through the forested area, careful to avoid being seen by anyone, either civilian or military. His enhanced night vision gave him the edge, and he could spot people long before they could get glimpse of him, but he had to be careful regardless. Just as soon and suddenly, as if he fell into a pool of water, sudden pain assailed Lorgar’s head, pain so great that he was forced to his knees. Not again, not again… His hands started to radiant agony, and his eyes scanned them as he held them up to his head. For the briefest possible second, his hands flashed from Dark leather gloves, to heavy imperial gauntlets . His mind was filled with images and sounds from a previous time, ********************* The swamp was drenched in crimson blood, mostly imperial blood. The area was carpeted in the bodies of Imperial soldiers, mostly covered in arrows or ice spikes. It was night time, and the two moon shone brightly, illuminating the battlefield and the corpses Crows and ravens had already began to prey on the dead. Covered in moonlight were two figures, One was a tall, muscular, and snow-haired Nord. He was clad in heavy imperial-wolf armor, and wasn't wearing a helmet. His face was drenched in blood, as well as the rest of his body, but he wasn't holding a weapon. He had his arms wrapped around a downed female imperial. She had short brown hair, green eyes, and was small for a soldier, and her small hands curled in a fist. Her face had a pained expression, and she was lying her head on the mans chest, which was covered in bandages. Her eyes were starting to close, but she was stopped by the gentle voice of the man, and him slightly slapping her cheek,, "Stay with me Attendant." In response, the girl chuckled weakly, and said in barely a whisper, "Sir...I...i cant feel my legs..." The man face filled with sadness, as he looked at her back, which had a nasty wound, caused from an ice spike burying itself presumably into her spine. He had used a potion to stop the bleeding and close it slightly, but it was still there. The man gently patted her on the shoulder and held the girl closer, before saying, "You'll be fine Lilly. Just stay with me." ***** Lorgar regained conscious once again, as the pain slowly melted away. He was covered in a cold sweat, That's the third time since yesterday...why? Why the hell do I keep seeing her...

Eduard, Maggie, Yellow Team Champion Imperial City, Elven District Morning Maybe today's the day that I die. In the arena? No. No one worthy is fighting today. Maybe by my own hands. No, I'll save that after I've killed him. Then, then I'll do it. Leave this world of fools. These idiots. I'm like one of those big fish in the Abecean. The ones with all the teeth. Everyone who has dealt with them fear and hate them, and the fish is friends with no one. Not even their own kind. Yet the fish continues on, killing and slaying. Minding its own business. I need to be like that. Yes. I won't kill myself. I'll take as many people with me first until someone does me in. So I won't be so alone when I depart. These men, they have it lucky. They don't live as long on this gods forsaken plane of existence. I'm only 81, yet unless I die in the arena, I'll still have plenty of years ahead of me. And to think that some envy us....Fools. Inside a room lay a high elf with his dark orange eyes staring at the ceiling, blazing with anger and sorrow. But mostly anger. He often did this in the morning, whether that was in his house or in a bedroll in the arena. Stare at the ceiling contemplating his demise and when his hurt could finally leave him. Finally the mer got out of his bed, which consisted of no sheets. The room, as well as the rest of the house was stone, dusty and bare. All there was were cobwebs and a long wooden table. The table had one candle, his armor and weapons, a sack of fruit, cheese and dried meats, various magicka potions, and a note with some ink and a quill next to it. The note read: To the poor bastard who gets to move my corpse, know this. Do not feel sorrow for me. I don't want your pity, not that an Altmer is likely to get one in this city anymore. I leave because there is nowhere for me in this world. My people are fools back home and don't rise up against the Thalmor, others even follow them willingly, the other races think we all are Thalmor and I hate them all. Especially my own kind. It's so bad now that even we suspect each other of being Thalmor. Well all I have to say is that when the next Great war comes, I hope the Nords, Altmer, Redguards, Bretons and Imperials all kill eachother and rot in Oblivion. I fought in the first great war against those bastards. I am a war hero, yet I get treated worse than a sload prostitute! And its only gotten worse now with this new Emperor. And it will continue to do so with another war on the way. There is nowhere and no one for me here, and I leave gladly. -Kalendal Kirkham. The Spiteful. Kalendal took the note and held it above the flame of the candle. He always did this when he came to his home, but he never could bring himself to lower the note in the flame, always wondering if he'd grow tired of killing in the arena and being second best. He kept it in case, but he knew he'd never need it. If he killed himself now before he killed the Grand Champion, they'd all think he was a coward. And he wasn't too sure that they would be wrong, either. He told himself that it was his anger that made him want to die, but it was really the loneliness that his hate created. It was hard being a misanthrope. Also he always held onto the hope that things would look up for him if he became Grand Champion. It was true that many people disliked him, a lot of them truly because he was an altmer, and even his own kind disliked him. But that was because he was such an ass to everyone. Mainly. Racial tensions had risen lately, and did exist before. What kept Kalendal from being separate from his brethren was simple dislike and a loss of faith in them. He found them to be too understanding and apologetic of the other races in the Imperial City and he thought that they should get angry about it. No one listened and said that would just make them look worse, which wasn't untrue. Kalendal tried persuading them. By calling them fools and cowards of course. This is what kept them from befriending him. He said that they just thought he was a Thalmor agent trying to stir trouble, which didn't make sense, and he knew it. Kalendal finally pulled back the note and set it on the table once more. Just in case. Afterwards, the mer put on his elven gauntlets, boots and grieves, leaving his chest exposed, Then he put on his Greatsword with his leather scabbard that went over his bare chest, then he placed three magicka potions in a pouch that was attached to the scabbard's strap and rested by his waist. Once he was geared up, he took a handful of cheese and meats and ate a quick breakfast before combing his long wispy white beard and hair. Finally, Kalendal was finished with his morning routine, and he set out the vacuous looking stone living quarters, which was attached to other similar living quarters in the elven district. His destination was of course the arena. The place where he was allowed to take out his anger and kill people for gold. Closest thing to Aetherius on Nirn. Eduard was about to begin sharpening his dagger when finally, his target exited. Altmer, white beard, hair to match. Kalendal, it's a pleasure to meet you. You and I will become connected in a way in which you will not understand. Now let us see if I should feel bad about myself for doing what I'm doing. Eduard slipped behind Kalendal, and began to follow him towards the Arena District. At least that is where Eduard assumed he was headed. Kalendal Moved through the crowds of the elven district like a shark fin through water, a fact that was not lost upon him due to his earlier comparison. The people there knew who he was. He was infamous. He won his matches fair and square, but lately he had been a lot more spiteful in his matches, hence his name Kalendal the Spiteful. Regardless of the fact that he won his matches, and that he had to win many more to become Champion than normal, the people did not like him. He again attested this to being an Altmer. The people avoided eye contact with him, and made sure to not bump into him. As was said, he was an asshole. Kalendal took a cut through the city to the temple district to go directly to the Arena. On his way in, he saw a couple of kids sitting on some steps leading to the tower. There was an Imperial boy and girl, and they were talking amongst themselves before Kalendal walked by. They were dressed in fine silk clothes, so they were clearly the children of nobles. The girl had an orange top with a purple skirt attached that covered her feet. The boy wore a dark blue shirt withdark red trousers. When Kalendal walked closer, he could hear happy laughter from the pair. First mistake. "Hahaha, yes it is true! You couldn't be in the legion, you're a wimp!" "Well, you're a girl, so neither could you!" "There are girls in the legion, silly." "I haven't seen any." "Well go ahead and join, then there'll be at least one since you're there." "Hey, what's that supposed to mean, moon cheeks?" "It means that you fight like a girl, and I'll be in the legion before you to fight the elven army!" "Oh ye-" Kalendal walked up just in time to hear the last part. The boy was often taken by his father to see the matches at the Arena, and unbeknownst to Kalendal, he had seen his last match. It gave him nightmares that night, and the last thing he needed to see was the mer who had caused them. Kalendal took his dumb fearful stare as something caused by of course his race. "What are you staring at, brat? Move!" Kalendal stared at him with a glare that he would have shot a combatant. The girl next to him wondered why he was so afraid and was about to make fun of him, but Kalendal shot a fire bolt near their feet, and sent them both screaming as they ran. The boy and girl's cries were indistinguishable as they ran away, causing a big scene and having a nearby circle of nobles to stare at him with hateful glares. Kalendal smiled back at them arrogantly and moved to continue on, when an Altmer noble among the group left to approach Kalendal. The arena champion knew the man, from one of their Altmer community meetings. The mer put a hand over Kalendal's back and they began to converse. Eduard was stalking Kalendal from the side as he seemed to cause a scene just because a child stared at him funny. Or maybe he took offense to the comment about the Elven Army being the enemy? He couldn't be sure. Either way, he watched as the Altmer shot a fire bolt near the children. How charming. Most of the nobles looked on with overly shocked faces, or looked at the man with hateful eyes. Oh how Eduard hated nobles. Everything is always such a big deal. So he's a fool who can't control himself around a couple of blabbering children. No one was injured, and he clearly wasn't attempting to hit them. Move the hell on. One noble however, another Altmer, approached Kalendal. It appeared they were already acquainted. Eduard slipped in near a group of people, hoping to eavesdrop on the two elves. "Get your damn hands off me, Falestil." said Kalendal, who had pushed his hand off of his shoulder. Falestil was a younger mer, but not by much. He had shorter black hair pulled back and kept tight in a ponytail. He was wearing an expensive looking blue outfit with gold trimmings. "Doesn't it get exhausting being so damn angry all the time, Kalendal? Calm the hell down already, you aren't making things easier for any of us." "I suppose you'd rather have me bend over and take them in like you did for the Thalmor, eh?" Kalendal started to grin, but he soon stopped as Falestil raised his voice. "Now you listen here, you arrogant son of a bitch, I had children to think of and my wife! But you wouldn't know about that, with that chip on your shoulder. You think you're being tough, walking around being angry, scaring kids, but I don't buy it. I thin-" "I don't care what you think, you apologistic spineless worm! You think I'm not tough? Come to the arena, and I'll prove you wrong..." Kalendal walked past Falestil, bumping his shoulder as he walked past. Falestil shook his head and went back to his circle, but when he did, the others who were gossiping about him talking to Kalendal moved on, leaving Falestil there to wonder if Kalendal was right. Kalendal at that time had already made his way into the arena training area. Eduard listened as the two exchanged words. Unfortunately, nothing of importance was uttered. After they finished, Kalendal headed into the Bloodworks. Fine by me. Eduard made his way over to the bet taker, whom he knew. "What brings you here again?" said the bet taker. "It's the Arena. What do you think?" "Right. Just a joke. So, how can I help you?" "Yellow Team Champion. Kalendal. When's he going?" "Soon. 20 minutes, I believe. You want to put money on him?" "Yes. 100." "Not to be mean, but I hope you lose that bet. Guy is an ass." "Too bad this isn't a personality contest." "Right." "Another thing," Eduard said, leaning in closer. "I'm calling my favor. Noble section." "Rather small favor, I'd say. But I won't argue. You're in. Enjoy." "Will do," Eduard said as he headed into the Arena. In the nobles section of the stands, a woman sat alone, fanning herself with a rice-paper fan and taking in the scenery. She was veiled, though a gauzy sundress of Nibenean cut left little else to the imagination. The matches had not begun yet, and she was casually watching the people filtering in to the arena. Discreetly, two royal guard were standing at the entrances above her, keeping an eye out. A waiter came by, carrying a tray of fancy drinks. "My lady," he said, leaning over to allow her to choose. Magdela's hand brushed the waiter's sleeve, then hovered over the selection. Giving the man an impish smile, she chose a blood orange cordial. Eduard made his way into the noble section of the Arena. He eyed two men who seemed to be watching for something. Guards, he assumed. Normally, he wouldn't want to sit here. But he had to change things up. Besides, Jon always loved hearing about nobles. He looked around, hoping to find a place to sit. Hmm... He looked around, spotting a woman sitting alone. She had a mysterious draw to her, but Eduard couldn't really put his finger on it. Hopefully she doesn't talk much. He approached the lady, giving a proper greeting, which he had learned secondhand. "Would you mind if I sat here?" The woman's fan stopped in mid-air. She tilted her head, eyes sweeping from the man's midsection up to his face. A commoner. It wouldn't do to have her space occupied by one who could bring her no advantage. And yet... Her eyes held the man's a moment. There was something. The woman's haughty expression broke into a smile. "My dear man. Sit. The matches will surely be beginning soon." Eduard nodded his head with a slight smile, and took his seat. He didn't know what made the woman change her tune, but he didn't need to know. Thank goodness. "Indeed they will," he said with a momentary pause. He had always hated how carefully you had to choose words around people like her. He decided to keep the conversation petty. Although he figured it wouldn't be long before questions started being asked. "Hopefully they will be enjoyable enough. I didn't even check to see who is going on the other side to be honest. Other than that they are good." "An Altmer champion, most unusual," the woman replied. She leaned up and hailed the waiter to return with his tray. "A drink for my companion, sir." Leaning forward to present his tray, the waiter gave Eduard a disapproving glance. "They're free," the woman said low. It was obvious that her companion wasn't a regular in the blueblood section. Unusual? Surely she can't be that ignorant. Altmer can make for some of the fiercest fighters around. Although maybe she speaks of his personality. Eduard wanted to sigh when she called over the waiter, as he knew what she expected. He watched as the waiter cast him a condescending glance. Eduard's face didn't react at all, instead looking almost through him before looking back at the lady for a moment. He pointed to one of the drinks, not really caring what he got. "Free is a nice price. Thanks for the tip," Eduard said. At this point, he was annoyed with her. But for whatever reason, he didn't care much. After the waiter poured his drink, he left the two spectators. "I imagine you come here often? More than myself at least," he said somewhat quietly. He didn't have to stall much longer. The fight would begin in about 5 minutes. So far, so good I guess. "Not so often." She studied him, curious about his disinterest in her. A strange creature, to be sure. "And why are you here? You must know someone. One of the fighters?" And so the questions start. Not too difficult yet though. "Nice guess there. Pretty close. I am a friend of the Champion's opponent. Or at least he told me he was fighting at this time. If not, then I guess I wasted this offer to sit with the nobles for his fight. Although, it wouldn't be a complete waste meeting you. What about yourself?" He made sure to inquire about her. By the way she was acting, he figured she was getting suspicious for whatever reason. Which in return made him slightly curious about her. From what he could see, she wasn't too bad of a girl. Not entirely his type, but he felt an odd attraction to her. "Professional interest. I'm a writer, and am called upon to write of bloody battles and killing. But where is one such as I to see that in the flesh?" She smiled, waving her fan. "You are a soldier yourself, aren't you?" A writer... Is she? Ehh... Probably not. And another good read. I could lie, but what's the point. "Another good guess. I'm starting to think maybe you aren't guessing," he said with a small laugh. "I am a soldier, but I'm on leave with the current situation." He paused for a second before continuing. "You said you write? Maybe I've read your work. May I ask your name?" "You have the look," she replied, her smile holding as she sipped her drink. "It was a surprise to me, but I have met other warriors who've read my work. I am Magdela Bathory. And you are...?" So I was right. A Bathory. Of course. That changes things. But battles? She's more of a suspense writer on the whole, if I were to choose. Probably saying that in spirit of our location. "Warrior? I wouldn't say that. Anyways, I have most certainly read your work. Anyone with intelligence would, really. Suspenseful, with strong character development. It's a pleasure to meet you Magdela. My name is Eduard Laenius." She laughed. "How very intelligent of you to say so! I flatter, of course. Well met, Eduard Laenius. Not a name I am familiar with, but perhaps you will change that in days to come." Though the comment could be innocent, a prediction that the man would go places, her eyes took on a glint of something beyond simple curiosity. Maggie had had the feeling that the Thalmor were feeling out her defenses, and there were still the Vigilants to look out for. This one was a hunter. Warrior was a neutral, socially acceptable term for what she sensed. Hunting me? A bold one, if so. Before he could read her gaze, she turned away and watched the other spectators filling in, some of them yelling impatiently for the fighting to begin. Her expression was neutral and friendly, but she was scanning for accomplices. For some reason, the mood changed. Magdela hadn't changed her tone at all. But there was something. He couldn't put his finger on it. And what was this of her knowledge of him changing? Probably more flattering words, but at this point he wasn't sure. He was subtly trying to read her when she suddenly turned away. He responded by looking around the seats before speaking up. "I am not surprised you haven't heard of me. I'm just a soldier. Other than fighting in the recent battles, I haven't done much. I mean killing people hardly compares to someone such as yourself. Anyways, it appears the fight will begin soon. Or so the crowd appears to think that way." Kalendal was glistening from a small layer of light sweat as he stood in the bloodworks. From his training. He was quite the fit individual, although his muscles were more lean, being so tall. He always thought it was funny how people assumed mages weren't in shape. Although he couldn't deny many of them weren't. But some of the battlemages like himself knew the benefit of staying in shape. The blood pumps faster to the brain, more oxygen. Kalendal figured that would help one think. And fighting was as much a battle of minds as it was brawn, or in his case magical prowess. Kalendal did what he always did and got on one knee to wipe some blood from a previous contender's dragged corpse on his hand from the hallway leading to the arena. Afterwards, he'd use the blood as warpaint and wipe half of his face with it. It wasn't a very Altmer thing to do, but he wasn't a typical Altmer. He liked the way it made him look. It also tended to scare rookie contenders which made his job a lot easier. His challenger, or rather challengers today were not rookies however, and he heard that they have apparently been studying his matches for this moment. Kalendal wasn't worried, however. He preferred that his enemies do their homework. Makes for a longer more exiting match. And good practice for the Grand Champion if he ever got the chance to fight him. Kalendal took his time, cleaning his nails with a small dagger from the training room and whistling as he listened to the impatient crowd whine and wail outside. This too was something he always did. Kalendal was a mer of many rituals, this being one of his favorite. People were always avoiding him, but now...many have come just to see him fight. Not specifically him, not yet, but still. All the people both peasants and nobles alike were waiting to see him. And peasants and nobles alike had to wait til he was good and ready. Kalendal was still whistling, but started to chuckle at the growing volume of boos from the people. He finally decided to move, not wanting to hear to Blademaster's bickering again. When he stepped out and waited for the announcer, he laughed some more at the crowd, because the nobles as usual refused to either cheer or boo, feeling it was "beneath" them. He knew they were every bit as impatient as the peasants were. More so, but their silly rules of etiquette did not permit them to lower themselves to the practices of animals. Kalendal thought it was ironic that men called them arrogant when nobles proved them not to be any different. Kalendal was pondering on this some more when the announcer cut off his thoughts with his obnoxiously loud magically enhanced voice. "LLLLLadies and gentlemen! Do we have a match for you! The blue team, has come with their newest upcoming warrior, your hero...Brimwuld Blood-Shodden! And better yet, the Yellow team Champion has allowed him to have...THREE team members!" At this, the crowd started to roar with excitement. It was absolutely deafening. They were excited to see Kalendal finally fall, and even more, their newest favorite was going to be the one to do it. Or so they think. Brimwuld was a very handsome nord man. Fought with two steel swords, had long brown hair with some braids, and his style was a great crowd pleaser. Fancy, almost elegant. He got a lot of requests...outside of the arena from women, and he was only too happy to oblige the starstruck females. Kalendal of course got no such requests. He used to before from some elven women. Before his personality was so well known. The memory made him smile before the announcer cut this thought off as well. "AAAAAnd now for the challenged! You all know him as Kalendal...the Spiteful!" The crowd always had a mixed reaction when his name was called. Some would boo, shouting "You suck", and others would cheer. This was because although he was not what one would call an "honorable fighter", he was still quite skilled and entertaining to watch. This was enough for some not to care about his personality or his honor. "Will Brimwuld Blood-Shodden be another victim of Kalendal's flashy finishers, or will he be...your....new....CHAMPION! Let's find out...llllower the GATES!" "Well then, I guess I do have the wrong time. I don't see him," Eduard muttered to himself. You better not lose here. Brimwuld and his companions walked out of the arena cage slowly, eying the crowd, raising their weapons as they did. When Brimwuld lifted his twin swords, the crowd went crazy with admiration. The last woman he was with just before the match stood over a balcony and threw her under garments down at him. Brimwuld caught them and breathed them in deeply before placing them around his neck and smiling at her. His three partners consisted of a Breton mage with a steel sword, an orc with a mace and a shield, and an imperial with a sword and shield. Kalendal watched them curiously, and carefully. Knowing that they would have come with some kind of battle plan. Sure enough, Brimwuld called out "Anti-Asshole formation", and the warriors all got into place. The Breton with no shield stood in the middle for some reason, while the two on the sides stood slightly crouched with their shields out and Brimwuld was in the back for protection and to issue out commands. They stared at eachother for a while next to the metal ring in the center, watching to see who would make the first move. Kalendal looked at this formation and figured he knew why the Breton was in the middle. He had a theory, and decided to send a test shot to see. With his sword still sheathed, he launched a fireball at the group's center. Sure enough, the Breton raised his empty hand and a ward came shimmering out, causing the fireball to dissipate. Kalendal chuckled, as did Brimwuld. "You'll need more than that to kill us, Spiteful one!" Kalendal slowly shook his head. "This...is not enough. You will die." "We'll see about that! Charge!" At those words, the blue team forces came hurtling towards Kalendal, but as soon as they got close enough, Kalendal sent a strip of fire in front of them that cut off their path in a long line. As he predicted, Brimwuld had one of them go to one knee, and he leaped off of the orc's shoulders to get over the fire. With the speed of a sabrecat, Brimwuld was within striking distance in a moment's time. Kalendal took out his elven greatsword and began their dance of death, parrying and dodging as Brimwuld's teammates wondered what to do. Kalendal sent a heavy swing to Brimwuld's skull, but the nord ducked and prepared to dual strike at Kalendal's exposed gut. However, Kalendal expected this and kicked up some sand to prevent it. Brimwuld saw it coming, then rolled back to dodge the mer's second swing. Brimwuld closed the distance so the mer wouldn't have enough room to attack, forcing Kalendal to block his blows with the base of his blade. Brimwuld, being the crowd pleaser he was decided to dazzle his opponent by chucking his swords in the air. The sudden unsuspected move made Kalendal's eyes follow the blades, which while he did, Brimwuld sent his boot into his gut, then he punched him with an uppercut, sending him rolling back before he caught the swords in the air. Kalendal backed up while Brimwuld lifted his swords in the air which caused the crowd to cheer. Kalendal looked back and noticed that the other fighters found a way past his barrier by kicking sand over the fire. Hmm, about time. When Maggie was satisfied that she could find no one in the stands who was paying her any undue attention, she turned her own back to the activity on the fighting field below. "Four against one, the champions do like to stack their challenges," she murmured, as much to herself as to Eduard. Putting aside her cordial, she took out an opera glass from her reticule and adjusted it to view the Altmer champion and then his challengers. As the fighting began, other noble ladies around them gasped and chattered, but Maggie remained serene. "Who do you like for this one?" she asked her companion idly. It would appear the Altmer does have the odds against him. Although... His thoughts were cut off by a question from Maggie. Who was the likely winner. Eduard had a hunch on who and how, but he didn't want to spoil anything if he was right. "Honestly, I would say the Champion. They made it four on one for a reason." "Indeed. He doesn't appear worried, even if he took some blows. His opponent is overconfident." Maggie's glass turned towards the Nord, though surreptitiously she also scanned the crowd at the other side of the arena to see if anyone was watching her instead of the fighting. "Precisely." He wasn't surprised she knew why. He wondered if she had any theories on how. Eduard looked over at Maggie for a second, who seemed distracted. For what reason he could only imagine. She seemed to be looking for something. He ignored it for now, turning back towards the fight. Kalendal looked at the two blades being held in the air and he couldn't help but think of the Grand Champion. It was good that he get practice against someone who fought like the redguard, but still, this man was not him. Kalendal backed up as the blue team circled him like a pack of wolves surrounding their prey. Kalendal looked from left to right at the men surrounding him. And smiled. "The **** is so funny, cheese face?" said the Imperial man. Kalendal answered by sheathing his sword. When he did the breton stood in front of him, ready to try and block his magic. "We got you figured out, Kalendal." Kalendal started charging up two fireballs in his hands, unwavered by the comment. "You think that because you can block my attacks that I still can't get to you eh? Well, then! Come." Brimwuld's men did come, but Brimwuld stood back and tried to tell them to do the same. He knew the mer had something up his sleeve, but it was too late. The breton held up his ward, and the other two their shields, but Kalendal's fireballs hit their target all the same. The sand. Suddenly the dirt and sand shot up in the air and went all around them from the impact of two fireballs being shot in close proximity from Kalendal's hand. Brimwuld had backed up far enough not to be affected by the dust kick up that now shrouded the men from the crowd. Kalendal closed his eyes and took out a handkerchief from his pack to tie over his nose. He could hear the coughing of the men, but it wasn't quite enough to sense their positions. Instead, he started channeling a detect life spell in his left hand so he could see them while blinded. Kalendal smiled as he saw the three figures in pink mist, coughing and wiping at their eyes. Kalendal hurled a fireball at the pink mist that sounded like the orc, wishing to get rid of the brawny one first. The explosion sent the orc hurtling from out of the dust cloud for the crowd to see he wasn't dead yet, just winded, burned and on his back. While he rolled around to put the fire out, Kalendal took the opportunity to charge the other two misty figures. The first was the imperial, who Kalendal decapitated with his greatsword. His next victim was the breton. Kalendal stood in front of him and charged him like a bull, sending his weapon spearing through him and lifting him off his feet. Kalendal too ran out of the dust kick up so the crowd could see the impaled breton lifted over his head, dripping blood down on him as he wriggled around on the blade. Kalendal unwrapped the cloth from around his nose and started laughing ominously, eying the orc. The orc finally managed to get the fire off of him, but before he could get up, Kalendal sent his sword, with the Breton still on it, straight into the orc's abdomen. The breton was now dead, but the orc was not, and made sure everyone knew it with his agonizing screams. Brimwuld was on the other side of the now dissipating dust cloud, and the first thing he saw was his Imperial friend's head. The second thing he saw was his orc friend seizuring under the breton from lightning as they were pinned through by Kalendal's sword. Kalendal was frying the orc alive by electrocuting him with lightning from his fingers. Eventually the orc passed away, and the two corpses were reduced to ash. Kalendal was laughing from pure joy the entire time. Once the combatants were apart of the very dirt used to bring about their demise in the first place, Kalendal drew his sword from the ground and walked over to Brimwuld. Eduard let off a small smile. He was close to nailing Kalendal's strategy at every point. Except for the fact that he used the handkerchief. He figured he had a spell for it. And that the Orc didn't die on impact. He also thought the Breton would be intelligent enough not to charge a man that told him to. Oh, and he didn't see the decapitation either. It was impossible to guess details. "Not bad." In spite of her preoccupations, Maggie was soon mesmerized by the Altmer's show, jumping as the fireball landed and beginning to laugh as he carried the Breton aloft like meat on a spit. With the coup de grace, she put her opera glass in her lap and joined the applause, which in the nobles section was mostly polite and unenthusiastic. Not so for her. "Good show!" she shouted, drawing stares from some of the other women in the nobles section who were appalled. They obviously had been dragged here by their husbands, or were new to such spectacle. Maggie's expression was almost hungry, however, as she turned to Eduard. "Now that is worthy of the title champion." She gestured around her and lowered her voice. "They don't like it. An Altmer bested an imperial and a Breton, to say nothing of the orc. Very impolitic." She then took her opera glass again and focused in on the Nord, guessing he would not be so haughty this time. Brimwuld watched the mer's approach with a serious face that soon changed to to a grin. The nord felt a shiver down his spine. Not of fear, but excitement. Kalendal too was sporting a smile on his face as well. "Now that the trash is out, perhaps you and I can start this fight proper?" "Sure! I'd love to reenact the end of the latest war in the north. Come!" Kalendal wasn't surprised to see the nord's attitude unchanged. To him if he died he simply went off to some mead swilling afterlife. Kalendal did as he was asked and charged the nord, sending two fireballs his way as he did. Brimwuld rolled to the right to dodge the first one, then rolled backwards to dodge the second, putting himself out of it's blast range. Before Kalendal got any closer, he decided it would be best to make sure the acrobatic nord couldn't move around too much. Kalendal started sending fire in gouts towards Brimwuld, who predictably dodged them no problem. The fire didn't quickly dissipate like normal though. Instead it stayed like before, keeping the nord from going in certain directions. Kalendal was sure to keep up the attack so that the nord had no time to kick sand over the fire, and eventually Kalendal forced the nord into the center of the ring. The metal circle was completely surrounded in fire, except a small part which Kalendal now closed of as well. There was no way to kick sand now. "You're trapped nord. No way out but to kill me." "The spell's gotta dissipate sometime, mer." "Not for a while, Blood-Shodden. I'm no amateur." With that Kalendal raised his hands and sent another fireball in the nord's direction while drawing his greatsword at the same time. As he predicted, Brimwuld pivoted and spun around the fireball and swung his twin swords at Kalendal's chest. Kalendal blocked and then sent his sword point to the nord's midsection while backing up, so that he didn;t pivpt around it and close the distace. This game of attacking while backing up, parrying and feinting continued on for some time. To them it felt like forever, but in reality it had been about six minutes. Kalendal was starting to feel fatigue until he used a healing spell to restore his energy. Brimwuld tried to use this opening to strike at the mer's neck from both sides to decapitate him. Kalendal blocked one blow with his left gauntleted hand, then blocked the other with his greatsword. Before the nord could recover, he sent his large boot to his gut, sending him rolling backwards. Brimwuld's face was facing the fire at the edge of the ring when he landed. The nord quickly leaped up off his back to his feet in time to block a heavy downwards swipe from the altmer. Kalendal was putting in all his strength now to get Brimwuld to fall into the fires, and it was starting to work. "I told you before the match started, nord. You will die!" "This is true, mer. But not today!" Just when Kalendal was about to deliver the final blow, the nord turned around and actually took a leap towards the fire. Kalendal thought the nord committed suicide at first, but suddenly a blow from behind sent him flying straight to the fires himself. Quickly, the mer blasted the strip of inferno with ice magic before he met his doom. When he got up, he looked at the chain on the pillar, still swinging, and it was apparent what the nord had done. "Been studying a lot of the fighters lately. You got a chance to watch the Grand Champion fight not too long ago? Smart man." Brimwuld had used the chain to swing over the fire and around Kalendal, allowing him to kick the mer in the back. Kalendal got up as well, and watched as the fire spell started to dissipate from his loss of concentration. Brimwuld looked around and started to laugh. I think its time we finish this. Thought Brimwuld. Kalendal's sword was out of his hand to the side. As soon as he looked at it, Brimwuld came charging at the mer with the same speed as before. Kalendal sent a fire spell in his challenger's direction, but amazingly, the nord cut through it, sending the flames around him as he ran through with his sword raised ready to strike. Kalendal jumped back to avoid the blow, but this time he was not quick enough. The nord's sword cut diagonally over Kalendal's chest, which he now held as he ran back away from him. Brimwuld didn't let up, however and he charged him once again. Kalendal desperately tried blocking the sword blows with his gauntlets, but it wasn't enough, and Brimwuld delivered another blow over Kalendal's left arm. Kalendal was on the ground now while Brimwuld was looking at the crowd with his swords raised, getting ready to deliver the final blow. Eduard laughed a bit at Magdela's remarks. "Lucky for our Champion, being a good fighter doesn't require anyone liking you." He then looked as the Nord moved in, seemingly to prepare for the kill. Don't make a spectacle you idiot. Just do it. Although in the back of his mind he knew that he had to have Kalendal pull through. And if the Nord was going to do what Eduard thought he would do, then Kalendal had already won. Same fate as Jodun. Taking too much time. "Looks like the end is near. And I believe I was right," he said with a fixed gaze on the action below. Almost forgetting herself, Maggie licked her lips at the sight of the Altmer's blood spilling out on the ground, her eyes shining. Such a waste. She laughed and awaited the killing blow, which might come from either fighter now. She had seen enough of such battles to never count the down man out. Briefly the image of her father on his knees crossed her mind. Remember that yourself, someday. "It will be a shame if he dies," she replied to Eduard, laying a hand on his arm. She realized fully what she was doing, but it was an innocent enough response. Other women were clutching their companions' arms in anticipation. Maggie was interested in what the man would do. Still, she kept her eyes trained on the fighters. Eduard was intently watching the fight, when all of the sudden he felt a soft hand on his arm. He glanced over, confirming it was indeed Magdela. He was wary of her sudden advance, although it appeared most women were doing the same thing. Could be something for appearance. Before she was enjoying the festivities, why not now? He didn't reject her, but didn't entirely invite her closer. He left the decision up to her, but did return a slight smile. "A shame indeed. Although I feel that Nord will be happy enough in Sovngarde," Eduard said, before realizing she probably meant the Altmer. "As for the Altmer, he seems unhappy anyways." When Brimwuld had figured he lighted up the crowd enough, he turned his attention back to his prey. Just one more blow, and he would be the new Champion. And one much more deserving then Kalendal. Brimwuld walked over to the mer, who he could tell was out of magicka. His sword slice over his chest had cut the leather on his scabbard, which made him lose his potions to rejuvenate. No more tricks, this was it. "What's wrong, friend? Out of magicka? Too tired? No more fireballs, eh? I assume you didn't use lightning because you wanted to reserve your strength. A mistake. You can't hold out when fighting me." Kalendal laid where he was, breathinhg heavily and trying to block out the pain. Kalendal looked up to the nord and smiled as he walked closer. And closer. But unfortunately for him, Brimwuld noticed the smile. "Ah, nice try, mer! You forget we had a mage ourselves..." With that, Brimwuld threw his sword into the space between the two and sure enough, a fiery explosion went off and sent his sword flying into the air before sticking into the sand a few feet away. "Hiding a fire rune in the sand....not bad. But now you're done." Kalendal laid his head back down in defeat, seeing that his trap had failed. Brimwuld stood directly next to him, now with both swords in hand after picking up the other one. He had them raised and pointed downwards towards Kalendal's eyes. The crowd started chanting slowly at first "Kill, kill, kill", but picked up the tempo when he lifted his weapons. The increased frequency of it directly reflected Kalendal's ever increasing heartbeat. Something his heart always did...before he was about to win. Brimwuld waited a few more seconds until everyone in the crowds, even some of the nobles were chanting "Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!" The sound was unlike anything one could ever experience anywhere else. The feeling it gave you made your body cover in goosebumps and your heart soar. It made you feel like you could fly when you were about to deliver the kill, but for the one being asked to be killed, it was as if the voice of the gods themselves demanded your demise. Brimwuld felt the energy of the crowd coursing through him, and just like a man at his climax, his excitement would not let him hold back anymore. Brimwuld sent his swords down...for Brimwuld, time seemed to stop. The effect of the adrenaline was so intense that his body felt numb and all he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears. The feeling of fighting to the sound of the crowd was pure unexplainable ecstasy one could only understand when they fought in the arena. It was this feeling that some had grown to love, almost be addicted to. And right now, his body was numb to any other feeling but the tingling in his spine. Which was a good thing since a blade was now poking through him. Brimwuld looked down to see a large daedric blade covered in a bluish purple mist. Kalendal didn't have the energy for more magic, because he used the last of his reserves to hide a summoned daedric great sword in the sand, which he grabbed with his uncut right hand and speared it through his opponent. Kalendal got up with some difficulty, and made Brimwuld kneel on the ground before him. The crowd had grown silent after a gasp of disbelief from what they had just seen. Kalendal had never heard the arena grow so quiet before, and he decided to mock them as he walked over to get his elven greatsword and potions by chanting the same thing they were. They knew what was coming next. The final blow. Kalendal downed one of the potions and instantly felt his energy quickly returning to him. "What's wrong? Khajiit got your tongue? Kill....kill....kill...kill...kill...kill...kill..kill..kill.kill, kill, kill kill kill!" Kalendal ran in a full sprint towards the impaled nord who was just barely alive, enough to see the final strike coming towards him. Kalendal sent his greatsword straight through Brimwuld's neck, which sent his head soaring through the air while his blood shot up from his open neck hole, gushing up as if it were trying to reach it. Before his head could even begin its dissent to the sand, Kalendal shot a fireball at it in mid-air, causing it to explode and send blood and brains raining over his head as he screamed in triumph. Once again, the crowd gave their mixed reaction of cheers and boos. Kalendal heard weeping coming from nearby. It was the same woman from before that threw her panties down on her hero. Kalendal walked over to Brimwuld's corpse and looked at the underwear that now lay in the sand slightly bloodied from the spray of his neck. Still looking at her, Kalendal picked them up, breathed them in as the nord had done, then placed them around his neck. Then he burned the body with fire, wishing for her to smell the scorching flesh as she watched him walk away in triumph. Kalendal sealed off his wounds with a healing spell, but still felt a bit woozy from the lost blood. Still, he made himself linger before going to rest and get paid, wishing to rub his victory in the faces of those who wished for him to loose by sending out battlecries to those sending out boos. "And I am STILL your Champion! ReeaAAAAAAAAHH!" Maggie's hand tightened on Eduard's arm. The sound of her heartbeat was almost audible. As the Yellow champion bathed himself in his opponent's blood and brains, she sighed. It was hard to tell if it was from sadness or elation. She didn't applaud or cheer, merely turned to her companion. "You chose well." Eduard felt Maggie's grip tighten as the fight came to his expected finish. He enjoyed her touch, although he was oddly wary of it. He couldn't decide if it was because she was a noble or what. His face remained expressionless as the blood rained to the ground. Show kills weren't his favorite, but he enjoyed watching the smarter man win. "I usually do," he said, turning to face her. "That was enjoyable enough." Smiling, Maggie nodded and released his arm. "Did you place a bet?" He was a little disappointed as Maggie's hand left him, but he was also a little relieved. That kind of distraction was the last thing he needed. "A small one. I won it. Personally I thought my friend was fighting, so I bet against him. He isn't going to go much further here." "You bet against your friend? Not very confident in him?" "No. Like I said, he isn't destined to go much further in the Arena. Doesn't have the brains, or the brawns. Not to be cold, but if he's going to go he might as well make me some money while he is at it." She uttered a small laugh, then studied him a moment. "You're an unusual man. What is it that you want, Eduard Laenius?" Her tone isn't accusatory, more curious, and such that the question might even be an invitation. Eduard was a little struck by the question in his mind, as it registered deeper than it probably should have. It was an innocent request, well maybe. But it nagged at Eduard's mind, as if someone important to him had asked it. He didn't have time to think about it right now though. He just laughed. "What do I want? Well, I guess money never hurt no one. Other than that, I guess I'd like to sleep somewhere more comfortable than the inns around here," he said, laughing a bit again. "Why, what do you want, Magdela?" Just like her, he didn't ask the question in an accusatory manner. Although, their was a hint in his tone. One that he shouldn't have used. A hint that he may have understood her invitation, and wanted her to proceed. Her smile remained mysterious. Around them, the audience was still focused on the prating champion, but Maggie put her glass away and in the next moment stood. She reached to clasp Eduard's hand and left in his palm a small calling card with her name and an address in the Elven Gardens District printed on it. "To help you with some of what you want. Tonight." With a glance toward the arena and one back at Eduard, she turned and walked towards the exit, the two royal guard stirring from their places and following her. "I..." Eduard began. But he never got to say anything before Maggie had slipped away. She's a fine piece. But dammit, I don't have time for this. I shouldn't have even entertained the thought. What happened there. Whatever, at least she's gone. I'll probably have to deliver a letter there to explain. She'll get it. Anyways, moving on. I've still got a man to track. He waited a little bit, before moving outside to wait for his man to make his next move. He was still shaking his head a bit about the recent events. Kalendal bolted out of the arena with his gold in tow, and was about to make his way to his favorite whore house spot, but at the last moment, the mer thought against it. He stood there, looking at the door, welcoming him from the sounds of laughter and revelry, but he wasn't sure what stopped him from going in. Something Falestil had said to him earlier. About being tired of being angry all the time. He was, and it had started to take it's toll. What was really getting to him however was the woman in the stands. What he had done to that contender...the way she looked in horror after what he did. "Falestil was right. I'm not helping things at all. I', acting like a Thalmor." Falestil looked at the whorehouse and suddenly didn't feel so lustful anymore. Which was good for the women inside. He always paid well. He had to. His tastes were rather taxing. Last time he was there, he made an imperial woman cry. Falestil looked at the gold in his hands, and suddenly he could see all the hate he was carrying in him, and it was now more than he could bare. Kalendal let the sack of gold slip from his hands, and it sprang up from the bag, spreading all across the imperial stone road he was on. Kalendal could feel the loneliness in him eat away like a corroding cavity inside him, but right now he just wanted to be alone. But not yet. Kalendal had to make one last stop before he returned to the arena to train for the day. In the Green Emperor Way. Eduard was almost hoping Kalendal would enter the shady establishment. It would give him time to think. But for whatever reason he seemed to break down near the entrance, and instead headed in a different direction. Oh well. Hopefully he will return to the Arena soon enough. I've already heard he spends most of his time there. As Eduard left the arena, he was being watched himself by an unseen person for a time. Satisfied that he wasn't following her, Maggie soon slipped into an alley and rejoined her guards. What did the man want with the Spiteful? It didn't concern her, and so she returned home, curious to see if she would have company that evening. Kalendal took a slow walk to the center of the city back to where he had cut through from earlier. Back at the same steps where the children were before. He halted at the spot where the burn mark was for a while. Staring, but he wasn't sure why. He continued on with his walk to the other side of the Palace district until he finally stumbled upon a small grave. It wasn't very extravagant or noteworthy unlike the others around it. Just a simple stone slab that read: Here lies Sidril Veredin. Member of the Synod. Honored hero and friend. The second part was burned into the bottom of it. His friend was killed for being suspected of raising a resistance against the Thalmor during Motierre's reign. They were right. And it was an incredibly foolish foolish thing to even try to attempt. Worst part about it all was that Kalendal was the ring leader, and Sidril simply took the suspicion off of Kalendal without him knowing. Despite that, the Thalmor knew. But instead of paying with his life, they made him pay with Sidril's. And they promised to give Sidril's family members the same horrible death they gave him if he even attempted to do anything against them. The memory was still fresh in his mind. They captured Kalendal in the middle of the night and made him watch. The sound of his broken joints was sickening and revolting. The snaps as he was stretched slowly on their rack...and they didn't stop, even after he fainted from the pain. They just electrocuted him to wake him and continued their execution. Kalendal broke out in tears now as he fell to his knees. This too was all just a part of his routine. Only difference was the guilt that brought him here had come earlier than the whorehouse this time. This is also where Kalendal started reflecting on how maybe the Blademaster was right, and he really wasn't ready to fight the Grand Champion. And how maybe his old friends were right, and he should show an effort and not fall in to the other people's stereotypes. Normally he'd say to hell with them and go take his anger out on some recruits in the training room. But this time, the words of his friend hang in his head. The last words that he said before he was taken and forced to watch him die. "I'm acting just like the Thalmor." The woman's cries had shown him this, and now the memory of what he was doing back then did too. He remembered how he brutally tortured one of their own to death because he thought he was spying for them. The reason was because he accused Kalendal's new female companion of being a spy. Turns out he was right, and she was there to oversee Sidril's death. If he were here today, he knew that he would say the same thing. This is the real reason why Kalendal wished to die. Not his anger, but his guilt. His anger is what he used to block out that guilt. But now, he just couldn't anymore. Kalendal stood at the grave weeping for another thirty minutes before finally, he got up and went to his destination. Kalendal was a creature of habit and a mer of many rituals. But today he broke the chain. He went straight to his house, and there he remained. While there he stared at his letter for the remainder of the day before finally burning it after all this time. As Eduard continued following Kalendal, he had an odd feeling. Like he was being watched. Or maybe it was Maggie's questions still nagging on his mind. He checked his tail, and then continued. He watched as the man visited the grave of who was most likely a friend. As the man cried, he could almost sense that the man was breaking. Losing his drive. I can't have that. I'll have to fix this somehow. He decided that he would have an old friend help fuel Kalendal into challenging Kaye. Preferably when Kaye was at his favorite eatery. Eduard believed he may have a plan. Since it seemed as though Kalendal was done moving for the day, Eduard moved his thoughts forward. He had much more time on his hands than he had planned for. It's really tempting. It'd be quite the story to tell Jon. However, I have work to do. And she's a noble, and can't be trusted. Even more so being that she is a Bathory. But if her body is as soft as her hand, I'd almost be a fool not to test that out. Not like I'm staying here. Maybe I should write this all down. Help me look at it more objectively. I've got quite a bit of time before 'tonight'. I'll have to think about this. After thinking for a while, he came back to his original decision of writing a note. Magdela, I thank you for being so kind as to offer a solution to one of my problems. However, you left without giving me the opportunity to tell you that I wouldn't be able to take you up on it. Not yet at least. I have things I need to do, including a promise I need to fulfill. My apologies, Eduard Laenius Maggie sat in her study, writing up her impressions of the day's fighting. The man who sat next to her was not the only one who interested her. She had heard rumors about the Yellow Team champion during her time with Amaund Motierre, about his involvement in anti-Thalmor activities. It was hard to tell fiction from reality in Amaund's muttering. Perhaps she should try to get an interview with him. The mentality of one who spilled blood for others' entertainment intrigued her. It wasn't unlike the legion, with all its pomp and finery. The public needed its blood, covered over in ceremony. Was that why Eduard Laenius was following him? Something to do with the Thalmor after all? Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone at the door. With a coy smile, she looked out, expecting to see the guards interviewing Eduard. They had been told to expect someone. It was a messenger, however. Maggie took the note and read, her lips pursed. He had refused her. It happened rarely, but then she had tried to reel in this one before the hook had sunk fully in. Foolish. The guards were watching her. "Thank you," she said stiffly to them. As she was about to close the door, one of them stopped her, stepped inside and said under his breath, "Your visitor this evening isn't coming?" "No," Maggie answered coldly. She wasn't used to rejection. "And you have need of..." At her warning look, the guard stopped. "My lady, take what you need from me. It would be an honor." Maggie started to refuse, then paused. She could go another day without feeding, but then she would have to look elsewhere. Her nights with Skjari were pleasant, but they were nights that she went hungry. Now this commoner had also cost her a night's hunting with his things to do. He would not find her so accommodating if they met again. "Very well," she acquiesced, sighing. "We'll use the knife."

Gracchus, Catia, Tullius, Dales, Theodore The Laughing Fox Evening The Laughing Fox was ship shape, perfectly cleaned and ready for the wedding. All the tenets where told to be gone or stay in their rooms, which they happily obliged to due to the superb service they had received while staying at the tavern. All the tables were stored away, save for three that were pushed together in the center of the room. A fine silken cloth, a brilliant ocean water blue, covered the old oak table. Gracchus was seated at the head, his silver armor laced with blood-red. The dragon on his chest matched the crimson color, while the one on his cape was the silver of polished sword. The flowing garment was cardinal colored as well, and stopped just short of the heel of his black boots. The finely garbed general tapped his foot impatiently. Father Roxton was supposed to be here almost half an hour ago. Instead, the wiry priest was nowhere to be seen, while all the other guests had already arrived. The door swung open, the lanky holy man bursting into the bar. His long, white robes draped over him, giving him a pure look that made it hard for Gracchus to be mad. "I'm, desperately sorry old friend. There was an incident at the temple, a man who was in prison with me and I lost track of time," the cleric said. "It's okay, Imus. Everyone is ready to start, so if you'll follow me..." Gracchus briskly walked under the staircase, past the numerous doorways leading to the guest rooms. Reaching the end of the hallway, the husband to be opened the door onto the hidden garden. There the guest awaited the ceremony to start. Dales sat in the front row, right side, next to Milly. Behind them were Lyra Ceno, Gracchus' mother, in a simple white dress that slightly drug the ground, and Tullius. The left side of the garden featured Ena, sporting a lovely sunflower-yellow dress that stopped below her knees, and her husband Relan, wearing a tunic that perfectly matched his wife's. Behind them sat Erina, Catia's friend, whose auburn hair reflected the the setting sun's rays, and Theodore Adrard, dressed fancily in his royal blue attire. Erina meanwhile sported a green dress similar to Ena's. Gracchus took his place on the left side of the path, Father Roxton in the center, and the tavern bard, a young Bosmer lad Filin, began to play a light tune to set the mood. He was homely, rather plain looking to be honest, but sang like an angel. His skill on the flute was unequal as well, and he played no small part in the Fox's success. Tullius sat quietly on the chair beside Gracchus's mother. He wore his full general uniform, complete with golden shoulder pads and a crimson gold dragon embodied cape. At his side was his ceremonial Gladius. His Black eye patch clashed with the rest of uniform, and stood out like a sour thumb, as his unusually calm and cool face. He carried three cigars in his left pocket and a set of matches in the right. His mind was on the wedding, Hmmm...nice little place, nothing fancy. Unlike Lorgars extravagant wedding. Milly and Dales sat beside each other in the front row, Dales was very talkative, discsuing the latest court gossip to the witch. Dales wore a very fancy akavari styled Kimono, a gift from her "best friend" Homunal Akney. It was red, and had the patters of gold wyvern like dragons. Along with that, she wore her blonde hair in a bun, and a red dragon amulet. Milly, who was nodding at Dales and quietly averting her eyes, wore a green dress embodied with purple and navy flowers made in Chorrol, and had a green bow tie in her chest area. She wasn't wearing her golden or silver spectacles, and had her hair in her usual style. The tune quickened a little, and in walked the lady of the hour, Catia Lerus, soon to be Catia Ceno. The silver dress fell elegantly over her body, hugging the curves just tight enough to show off her figure, which even in her age was somewhat stunning. The lace top was mid cut, showing the top of her bosom, and the violet flowers in her hand were from the same lavender plants that grew on the sides of the enclosure. She walked down the cobblestone path, her sandals making no noise on the warm, sun-soaked stone. All eyes were on her, the center of the show. Catia smiled graciously. She was ready, Gracchus and he having waited, grown closer with each passing day, and now ready to tie the knot. She reached the platform, stepped on the right side, and stood opposite her fiancée. Father Roxton cleared his throat, and began the ceremonies, which he had memorized. "Friends and family of the couple, we have all been invited here today to join these two in matrimony, under the Lady Mara. It is by her divine right that these two shall be wed, and although I am but a humble priest of Talos, I represent our esteemed matron of marriage today as well. If you'll join hands, I'll begin the ceremony." Gracchus and Catia held hands, the latter setting the purple bouquet down before she did. Roxton continued. "Now, as these two clasp hands, so shall they clasp each other through the darkness, the illness that may creep upon them from the night. So shall they hold together tight, whether poor or rich. So shall they clasp each other when they take their final breaths upon this world. And so I shall clasp these two together, under the light of Mara and Talos, for as long as both shall live. Having already traded rings, the couple may now kiss, sealing this bond for their eternity on Nirn." And kiss they did, Gracchus holding tight to his wife, passionately kissing her if only for a few seconds. Everyone in the room cheered, including Dales and Milly. Tullius, while clapping and smiling only raised his voice slightly. He was obviously troubled, and not in his usually cheerful mood.. "And now we move this affair into the Fox, where fine food and drink await us!" Roxton said, leading the way back. The newlyweds followed closely behind, leaving the others to navigate their way back. Dales took Milly by the hand, and to her embarrassment dragged her to the consesions. Tullius however, unlike most, went outside for a smoke. He lit the cigar, and gazed at the night sky. He took a deep breath, contemplating on today's events. Gracchus and Catia both changed into simpler attire, and when they came back most everyone had joined them, save Tullius. Theodore and Roxton were both already enjoying the food and the drink, laughing heartily as they swapped stories. Gracchus leaned over to his wife, whispered something in her ear and gave her a a quick kiss on the cheek before going outside to talk to Tullius. "So, it's fairly obvious something is bothering you. Why don't you tell me, then we can head inside and enjoy the night. What do you say?" Tullius said coolly, as he inhaled more of the cigar fumes ``Empress Dales has ordered me to arrest Spymaster Lorgar Grim-Maw once he returns to the city.`` Gracchus' mood was drastically changed from the happiness he had experienced only moments ago. Now a solemn, somber, sad mood hung over him like a cloud. "That is...most disturbing news. It seems the conflict has come to a head, then. On what grounds is the arrest to be made? Treaon one would assume..." "Treason." Tullius continued to gaze at the nights sky, holding his cigar in his index finger and thumb, his eys filled with intense sorrow and his expression darkened "Class 5." "He's a fool. A damn fool...he's in too deep, Tullius, and I don't think anything can dig him out. Has anyone been interviewed? Do we know where he is?" "He told Milly he was on "business" trip to Bruma, and further onto Skyrim, she showed me the letter he left for her. I...did some digging and research on the term Bloodwolf." "So, what is this Bloodwolf? What's he planning that has him charged with treason?" "A Bloodwolf is a daemon from Skaalish Mythology, a dreaded blood red, ragged, and massive spirit wolf. The Bastard offspring of Hircine, the daedric prince of the hunt and father of lycantropy, and the All-Maker, creator of the world and everything in it. It was cast down from the All-makers den, and fleed to the Hunting Grounds of Hircine. Hircine welcomed his bastard son, and gave him command of all of his greatest horrors's. Skaalish myth stated it wandered the Mundas from battlefield to battlefield to saite it's bloodust and warlike nature, being a weapon to the highest bidder." Tullius took a breath of air, and inhaled more fume from his Cigars, "Sound familiar?" Gracchus pulled up a chair, sitting down, and putting his head in his hand. He rubbed his temples, a headache forming. "He's a daemon, a Daedric spawn? Lorgar is the Bloodwolf?" "I don't know if he's THE Bloodwolf, or even if there was a Bloodwolf, but he certainly matches the description, or at least something similar. I've seen him whisper the All-maker and Hircine in the same sentence with reverence on numerous occasion. I also gathered some intel with the help of a contact, and found he was looking up information on various assassins and serial killers. I think...he's gathering together a unit." "He matches the description, but maybe he just fancies himself the Bloodwolf. Now, what could he need a unit of trained assassins for?" "I don't know." Tullius said crossing his arms, "That man is very unpredictable." Gracchus stood, placing his hand on his friends shoulder. "Lets go back inside. There's no sense dwelling on it, and today is supposed to be a happy day anyway." Gracchus left, hoping Tullius would follow. No use... And with that Tullius went inside, following Gracchus intent on grabbing some chicken wings. Inside, Dales was on a table with Milly, talking among themselves like a group of schoolgirls. Dales said in a quiet voice, whispering to Milly, "So then I whispered into the maids ear "Your breasts are so large and perfect." Milly who was eating some tradition garden salad, blushed and said "You are...very skilled in these matters...no woman can resist your charms your majesty...." Dales smiled, as she shoved more rice into her somewhat full mouth. Milly, was thinking. Yes your majesty...I really want to know your sexual advances on servants and how you seduced them. Gracchus, meanwhile, walked over to Catia who held a letter in her hand, and had a quizzical look on her face. "What's that honey?" her husband asked. "It's a addressed to you. A letter that a courier brought. I have no idea who from." Gracchus grabbed the scroll, and broke the wax seal. It read: General Gracchus, Congratulations on the wedding. In the place of my presence, I have arranged for a gift to be delivered to you instead. What you do with the gift, a sword, is up to you. Have a nice day. Gracchus just stared that the words, a smile of recognition creeping across his face. "Who's it from honey?" Catia inquired. "Just an old friend..." Gracchus responded. He tucked the scroll away in his pocket before joining the table everyone was seated at. "So, what is the topic of conversation?" Milly spoke up with an innocent and quiet tone, "Dales is telling me how she advances and seduces her targets." Roxton, who was taking a drink from his wine glass, choked and coughed as the countess made such an simple, yet revealing, proclamation. Gracchus spoke up, not as shaken as some other. "That seems to be a rather interesting, if rather inappropriate, topic. Maybe something else would do." Dales who noticed the outburst coming from the other guests, gently placed her hand on millies back and whispered into her ear, "Please dont make it known to the entire crowd Milly." Milly, who was innocently smiling, heard Dales and made her face go apologetic and sorry."Oh...i'm so sorry your majesty." Dales whispered once again, in a slightly flirty tone, "I could never get angry at you, your so cute..." You do know I'm married? Oh screw it, Lorgar wouldn't even care if I did a tiny amount of flirting. Milly made her cheeks blush heavily, and her eyes go downcast, "Ugh-Thank you milady..." She said in her cute, child-like voice. Dales continued to smile at Milly, before saying "Why don't we talk about the economy?" "A much better topic!" Gracchus said, more than happy at the subject change. Relan, a carpenter, spoke up. "My business has grown substantially over the past few years. With people coming back from war, it allows us to make homes for the veteran, such as what we've done for Gracchus. Same with Erina I'm sure." Catia also chimed in. "The same can be said of my market. Especially recently, with the coronation and the regime change, we've had many important people come to town, which always bodes well for me." Theodore, after a swig from his flask, added his two cents. "I can speak little to affairs here, but in High Rock, Camlorn especially, our economy is well off. What can you tell us, mi'lady?" he asked Dales. Dales glanced at the general, before saying happily, "The economy is slowly, but steadily recovering from the recession that my father brought out, and the legions ranks are once again swelling with recruits, creating quite a few new jobs." "The coffers at the temple are full as ever, with the reintroducing of Talos as part of our pantheon," Imus added, as relaxed as Gracchus had ever seen him. He seemed to be enjoying the party. Gracchus, trying to incorporate Tullius, asked his friend, "What about the military? I'm sure with added recruits we can expect increase in all facets, such as the navy, which took a hit in Skyrim." Tullius, who predictably, had a full plate of chicken wings infront of him said, "The Navy boy's are getting some nice new vessels, yes." He continued smiling, "And with the Marius reforms, the Legion is finally getting back on it's feet and turning it into the elite fighting force it used to be." The Marius reforms, named after the deceased General Marius Imperius, is an act that completely changes the foundation and tactics of the legion. The training system for the recruits have been overhauled, once again returning to the overpowering concept of absolute teamwork, and the legion infantry is once again becoming primarily heavy infantry, as it once was. Many also smaller details have been included, and after a brutal political stuggle, the act was passed in the Elder council. Theodore chuckled to himself. Naming military acts after a deserter? Interesting practice, to say the least. "I personally prefer light infantry with cavalry supplementing instead of heavy infantry. I find mounted archers work well. Personal preference, it seems," the large Breton general said. Tullius turned his head to the Breton general with his eye brows raised, before saying "You prefer charging at the enemy with an over-sized sword, Theodore. Light infantry, while very good when you're in a guerrilla situation like how I was in Skyrim, can't stand up against heavy-infantry in a tight formation." "Again, terrain and personal preference way heavily on the decision. The mountainous terrain in my homeland is much more easily scaled while wearing a lighter armor, and is almost a non-factor when mounted. Of course, come war time, the jungles of Valenwood will make both a chore to fight in," Theodore added nonchalantly, not willing to get in a heated argument. "Ah yes. Being constantly picked off by Bosmer arrow fire from the shadows sounds very fun..." Tullius said dryly. Gracchus, having studied terrain possible tactics on his own, jumped in. "We can expect heavy losses, no doubt. And with the supremacy of the Dominion's navy, cutting off supplies doesn't seem to be an option. We will have to just wade through it, while keeping our supply lines well guarded. Overall, very poor odds." "Very poor." Tullius agreed. Gracchus looked around the table, seeing most everyone was finished eating and had emptied their cups. It was nearing midnight as well. He stood, Catia following his lead, and he announced, "Thank you all for coming, but it's getting late so I think we'll hit the sheets. Again, thank you. It would be a hard and arduous search to find a better set of friends." With that the coupled climbed the stairs together, hand in hand, before disappearing into their shared bedroom.

Tullius, Dales, Witchie, Afternoon Imperial Palace Tullius lit a cigar, as he walked into the war room. He looked around to see all sorts of maps, troop development charts, Legion listings and other similar information. At the center of the room was a large round table, with a dozen or so leather seats. In the middle of the table was a large map of Tamriel, with all of it's provinces shown in differnt colors depending on who controlled it. Cyrdoili and High Rock were colored red, signifying Imperial control. Skyrim was colored blue, signifying Stormcloak control. Elswer, The Summerest isles, and Valenwood were Black, signifying Dominion Control. The rest of the provinces were colored a grey, meaning "Independently controlled". Tullius chuckled, The once mighty Empire reduced to two provinces, and the once unified continent of Tamriel shattered into fragments. The Stormcrow is ls laughing. Tullius took a seat across from were the Empress was suppose to sit. He straightened his back, and let out a deep breath of air. He would be discussing military strategy with a girl of twenty years. This should be interesting. Then he heard the door open behind him and before long he could see the court mage appear in the right corner of his view. The court mage sniffed a little before looking at Tullius and raising his left hand from where a small icy mist came forth, seeking it's way to Tullius's cigar where it put out the fire and froze it, covering it with frost. Before Tullis could say a word the mage spoke. "I'm here to assist in matters of magical warfare." Tullius's face showed no emotion, he was on duty, and wouldn't let some Nordic ass-hole get him pissed. He lightly tossed the Cigar from his hand, before taking out another Cigar from his pocket, and lighting it up. He took a deep whiff from the Cigar. It was a "Colovian Golden" the best Cigar brand from Cryodili, and in Tullius's opinion, the best in Tamriel. Marius had preferred Cigarettes, and Lorgar had taken a liking to Cigars made from Black Marsh. He responded to the Court-mage, with a cool militarily voice, "Then your welcomed to join me and her majesty Empress Dales." He glanced over to the map, looking for today's topic, Valenwood. "She should be here soon. She said she needed to get "changed". SKjari then subtly cast a spell that made the smoke gather over his head, forming a cloud from which a small illusion of rain came. Making it look like Tullius had a rain cloud over his head. Skjari resisted a smile behind a stony face. "She better hurry up then or I might decide to go get her." Tullius, glanced up to see fake drops of rain fall down on his head. He lighty brushed the smoke away dispelling the illusion. He said to the nordic mage in a slighty deadpan tone, "She wont take long. Doesn't take too much to get out of a maid outfit does it?" "That depends." "Quite." Tullius stretched out. "But it's neither our buisness what her majesty does in her free time. A little "roleplaying" never hurt anyone, has it?" Tullius said. "Have you been peeking into her bedchamber?" Skjari said as he crossed his arms. "Unfortunate for me, I went to retrieve her majesty for the meeting." Tullius face grew Pale at the memory, "The guardsmen at the door warned me I didn't want to enter, but I insisted and...Ehhhhhh..." "Well then I will go and get her." Skjari made his to the door and opened it to find Dales standing there about reach for the handle herself. "About time." He said to her. Dales, who wasn't clad in her usual crimson/pink dress instead in a simple, yet elegant dress uniform. She blushed, "Ah, i'm sorry. I had...business to take care of." "Tullius told me of it." Skjari crossed his arms again. Her cheeks turned from slight pink, to full on crimson matching her red/gold uniform. "It was... Miku's idea. Not mine..." She said, somewhat ashamed and embarrassed. "Well, learn to say later then. Now shall we get started?" Dales nodded, before heading into the room. Tullius got out of his seat, and did a crisp salute. "Ma'em" He said stoically. Dales ackowldged his salute, before taking a seat at the front of the large table. Skjari himself just placed himself standing besides Dales chair waiting for them to start. Tullius inhaled a whiff of smoke from his Cigar, before beginning, "As you all know, things are getting very hot between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. Her Majesties Anti-dominion acts and laws have just accelerated the inventiable conflict that has been brewing since you took power. However, unknown to most, my spies have reported that they've been very slow to mobilize there armies. Right now, the dominion has several battalions of dominion soldiers stationed at the Valenwood/Cyrdoili border, accompanied by auxiliary units of loyalist Bosmer's, and the pro-dominion regime has began to hire mercenary companies to bolster its forces ." Skjari spoke up. "I've been using something called dreamsleeve transmissions to try to get in contact with some spies that have been stationed in the Dominion for a long time. Few have responded back and I'm still trying to make contact with all. Those that have responded confirms that the Dominion is massing troops at the border. They've also spoken a bit about bosmer rebels but so far I haven't been able to get any more information about these rebels from the contacts, other than that they exist somewhere in Valenwood and are trying to overthrow the Thalmor." Tullius's face sharpened "Not much is know but my spies tells me they're massing troops near our border, they're mostly concentrated around the city Arenthia. Apparently they've also started hiring mercenaries to fill their ranks. My guess is that they're probably going to be used as canon fodder." He continued, "Your a few months late, Master Wizard about the information about the rebels, I've already made contact with the Valenwood resistance, and there quite organised and large." "I hope you haven't given these "rebels" any supplies. Given how hard the Thalmor are to put down insurrectionists I highly doubt the rebels are anything more but shattered and in hiding. Which the information I've been given suggests more at. What you've more likely made contact with are Thalmor disguised as rebels in order to deceive us into giving them supplies. Fooling us into supporting our enemy." Skjari then put his hand on Dales shoulder and subtly channeled an illusion spell into her mind so she could hear his voice. "I've even pulled that trick off myself in my time. I wish I could have seen their faces when they realized who they were actually supplying." Dales, said in her mind, assuming he could hear her, Is there any trick you haven't played on elves before? Tullius who was scratching his chin said, "No I haven't. But be assured, these are the real deal. You don't know the hatred that the Native Bosmer bore for the Almderi Dominion. And a former officer of mine has been with the resistance, helping them out for quite some time, and has confirmed that this is indeed the Bosmer rebels i've been in contact with. The Dominion might have control of the roads and the cities, but the forests and jungles still belong to the Bosmer" "Your former officer have is either captured, turned traitor or you're dealing with an imposter then. The Dominion security at the border is tight and any information that you get will undoubtedly have been filtered and altered by the Thalmor. And I doubt we can get any real information as we don't even have a half decent spy network, which is no surprise when our own spymaster is spending his time chasing me instead of doing his job properly." Tullius looked away his face becoming slightly strange and annoyed, "I'm aware of Duke Grim-Maws....problems with his...ehem position. That shouldn't affect his job though..." Tullius looked thoughtful for a second. Now that mentioned it. Things were sounding kinda off. Damm Lorgar and his Schism. Tullius let out a deep breath of air, before responding "Regardless, I've ordered the 4th and 7th Legion to take up position at the Valenwood Border, with the 5th legion as a standby reserve force stationed in Fort Grimunx." He pointed to a area near the dominion border, "Well if I find anything useful about the real rebels I will relay the information to you. And if we can get a proper spy network in our land working I guess we might try to play the same rebel trick on the Dominion. Fake a rebel faction made of displeased elves near our border. Though that might require a new spymaster that know his work for them to believe the information." Tullius turned his head towards the court mage, with a look of cursioity mixed with what seemed like cool rage, "What exactly are you suggesting we do, master-mage?" "Fire him, simple. There's a war coming and we can't afford to keep his incompetence." Tullius, had honestly considered asking Empress Dales the same solution. Lorgar was quite frankly, a horrible politician. He didn't have the people skills to be such a high member of the Nobolity. And to be perfectly fair, Lorgar was...medicore at best for spymaster duties. Tullius had asked himself many times over "What the **** was that royal flea bag thinking." Lorgar was a soldier, an excellent soldier. And a master of war and tactics. He was not, however, a master, or even adept, at the game of politics which a man of his position needed to be. Furthermore, he had the subtle of a drunk nord when it came to spying and the like. Being a spymaster, and a tactical operative were two comptley different things, and Lorgar was only the last. But he was by far Tullius's closet friend, and though he would rather eat a Goblin then say it aloud, Tullius loved him like a brother. Tullius sighed, before saying, "I'm in agreement with the Master WIzard, your majesty. Lorgar is a liability to the war effort if we keep him in the Pentiulas Occultus branch as Spymaster." Dales, who was sitting down silently, thinking things over. Even Tullius, Lorgar's best friend, knew what needed to be done. She knew she had too, she spoke up, "I...agree with you two." "Then we should fire him with immediate effect and seize all his assets so we have something to give to the next spymaster. With the war coming we can't just play charity and let him keep his luxury for nothing. And he still got that wife of his if he needs money." Tullius, who suddenly had a grin forming on his face, said "If I hear from Lorgar already, you tried that Master Wizard. He's hiding it. And he's still a duke." "We can still take his income and the fief, no matter what he's done to it. He can keep the title, but that will be all he will keep." He continued to smile, and laughed, "I'm afraid that's not possible since the Fief doesn't belong to him anymore. Haven't you heard?" He contuined to grin, "He gave it to his wife's Uncle, Count Caulgia Quentas before he left." "The fief will be seized no matter who it belongs to. As I said, we aren't running a temple of Mara, we do not have enough fiefs to give away every time we get a new spymaster. Especially now that a great war is looming in the horizon." "You dont know how politics work do you wizard?" Tullius said, crossing his arms, "That will severely piss off the Quentas family, which is one of the most powerful in Cyrdoili. I dont think they would think Dales favorable if she seized one of there fiefs." Skjari spoke up in a commanding, strict and slightly angry voice, like if he was the emperor and had been for decades. "If they don't like it they can take it up with the empress. And I think it is time to show that Dales is not afraid of the nobles. If they can not understand that we're soon at war and that some sacrifices must be made and wish to challenge the empress about, we will declare martial law and execute them for treason if need be. They're either with us or against us, no middle ground in the war that is about to come for the people in the Empire. It's time to choose sides. Us or the Thalmor." Then he went back to his casual tone as he continued. "If they wish to keep the fief they will have to come forth with a new spymaster, from their family. One that knows how to do the job." Tullius smirked at the display, Lorgar was right, this man was the true power in the Empire. Not Dales, "If you allow me. I have just the person for a replacement, from the Quentas family." Lauria would be good, always was an excellent schemer and liar, plus a downright sneaky noble. Millies sister. "Well, give me a name and this person will be given a trial time to fix up Lorgar's mess. If the new spymaster succeeds, he or she will be given the position fully and they can keep the fief." A little challenge then... "I'll have the details sent to your Office so you and Dales can review it." "Fine, but you can at least give me a name right now." "Lariua Quentas." Tullius said, standing out of his chair. "Well it seems were finished our business, me and her majesty have to attend a wedding if you don't mind master-mage." Tullius said sharply. He began to turn away, before the feeling of pure Melancholy hit him. And so it starts. The imperial legion is mobilizing once again against the dominion, Tamriel is at the brink of war, friends are forced to turn against friends, and I still want a drink. Were will my loyalty fall before the end, my nation or my best friend...my orders or my ideals...my duty to my country or my duty as a friend to Lorgar... ​Tullius took a whiff of his cigar, and inhaled the fumes. Gracchus and Catia were getting married today, so he still had to focus on that. Gracchus needed him, as did Milly

Lorgar Grim-Maw Dawn ??? The Imperial officer strode into the command room, clad fully in heavy wolf armor, the staple of his unit. He was a nord, a Skaal to be specific, had snow white hair, massive muscles, and was very tall. He wore a pitch Black eye patch, and had deep brown eyes. However, the most distinctive feature of the soldier was the distinctive fang-like teeth he bore. On the back he had strapped on a large two-handed axe covered in strange-runes, and at his belt was a standard-issue imperial shortsword. His chest was held high as he approached a desk that was suited at the back. The clerk on duty was a somewhat short imperial female. Unlike most soldiers at the base, she was clad in standard imperial armor instead of the custom-wolf armor. She was in her early twenties, had short brown hair, and sparkling green eyes. She had pale skin , and was busy at work writing various documents. The Officer rubbed his head, and said in a friendly voice, “Busy Attendant?†The Attendant jerked her head up, and her eyes filled with surprise as she jumped out of her seat, and attempted to salute, which ended in failure. The officer chuckled before grinning at the Attendant, who was now blushing at her failed salute, “It’s alright soldier. We all use to salute like you.†She brushed her hair way before smiling, “Of course sir.†He lightly tapped her on the shoulder, “At base, call me Lorgar. All the other soldiers do.†Her face grew pale, before saying “Yes sir-I mean Legate-NOâ€. She stuttered out words, causing the officer to laugh. He gently patted her on the shoulder, “You’ll do fine Rookie. “ He looked at her with concern for a second before returning to his friendly face, “I’ve been hearing you eat lunch, dinner, and breakfast on your own. Don’t, you need to make friends and be social. Come out with me and the rest of the boys for drinks at Dragons Bridge tonight.†The attendants face grew even paler “But sir, I’m on duty-“ The officer waved his head, “Not any more, get your ass off that chair , and head out for some fun.†The officer had a look of genuine and pure warmth, he wasn’t hitting on her on anything, he just wanted her to have fun and not be lonely. She nodded her head, before nervously getting out of her chair, and followed the Legate, who affectingly rustled her hair, “Why would you even want to eat lunch by yourself Rookie?†She chuckled a tad, as she said, “Not all of us can be as friendly and human as you sir.†****************** Lorgar woke up with a slight stir, as he quietly and quickly arose from his sleeping position. He was in a cave, in his traveling outfit. He was in a cold sweat, Of all things…why was I dreaming about her? Lorgar glanced out of the cave he was in, and gazed at the massive city of Solitude. He had things to do here. Things to do in Haafinger Hold.

Gracchus, Catia, Theodore The Laughing Fox Morning The Laughing Fox tavern was a bustle of activity. The workers were busying themselves in the kitchen, and Catia and Ena swept the place clean. Gracchus was scrubbing the tables, and just finished his last one. He stretched his shoulder, rotating it as he rubbed his upper arm. "I don't see how you guys can do this all day. All those little circles are liable to throw out my shoulder." "Stop your moaning!" Ena said. Catia just laughed while she swept. "Honey, have you sent the invitations out yet? The formal ones, that is," she asked. "No, the-" Suddenly the door opened and in walked Theodore Adrard, followed by a lean, wiry courier. "What's going on here? Looks like a party to me!" Theodore practically shouted. Catia looked to Gracchus, hoping he could lie about the wedding. Instead, he he said, "Um well, we are having our wedding tomorrow so we're cleaning up. You could come if you like." Catia almost chocked with indignation. She wasn't a fan of the Breton general, nor his drinking habits. Gracchus on the other hand has talked with Theodore several times following his request to join the caravan to Hammerfell, and the two were on good terms. "Will there be food? Baaahaha never mind, I'll come anyway. Thank you for the invitation, kind sir. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some things that need placing in my room." Theodore walked down the hallway by the stairs, in his hand a leather satchel with candles sticking out the flap. The courier, nervously waiting his turn to talk, finally spoke up. "Sir, I have orders to deliver something's for you?" Gracchus ran up the stairs, yelling as he went, "One moment please!" He came back a minute later, holding a bag filled with small scrolls under his arm. Gracchus handed them to the courier. "Here, the addresses are on the outside of each scroll. Please have then delivered today." The general then plopped a large coin purse in the courier's hand, who promptly nodded his assent and left. Catia was standing with her arms crossed, waiting for the messenger to leave. "Gracchus, may I speak to you for a moment? Alone." Her voice was heavy with distaste, and it was obvious that she was upset. "Oh, uh, okay." Ena looked up, eyebrows arched, before walking towards the kitchen. "This should be good," she muttered under her breath. As soon as the kitchen door swung shut, Catia all but exploded. "What was that? Inviting random people to our wedding! We don't even know the man!" She continued on her rampage for several minutes, talking about how his drunkenness would ruin the wedding and how tired she was, and that the stress was wearing on her. Gracchus waited for her to stop, and finally opened his mouth. "Honey, it'll be fine. He isn't really a drunk, I swear, he just seems that way. I've talked to him several times, and as you know we'll be traveling together to Hammerfell. He's a nice guy, so he know better than to screw up someone's wedding. Just take a deep breath and relax, I promise that the wedding will still be perfect." Catia sighed, knowing he was right. "Fine...just make sure he doesn't get too drunk." With that Catia sulked back to the edge of the room she was sweeping, and continued her work. Gracchus, done scrubbing tables, went to the garden to set things up. He walked into the little oasis, and by his grin it was obvious he was happy at how things were turning out. The seats were arranged in four rows, two on either side of the stone path that cut the garden in half. With two chairs per row, it would sit eight people comfortably. At the end of the cobblestone path, a small wooden platform sat, with large shrubs growing out away from it. Usually this held a few chairs and a table. Instead, a priest's podium sat, with room for two people to stand in front. That would be where the ceremony took place, with Father Roxton conducting. The flowers, recently watered, bloomed in gorgeous shades of blue, yellow, red, and purple, a rainbow that surrounded the garden. Everything was perfect, and ready for the wedding.

Rebec, Baldur, Suri, Karsh, The Underking Late Morning Going from Dawnstar on a dinghy Baldur was sitting with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, trying to get used to the rocking of the boat. It felt very unstable to him, and at times he wondered if the little boat would flip over, but it wasn't so bad. If he thought it was, he'd worry how he would ever get used to a real ship. He remembered hearing stories about people getting sick when they went far out enough to not see land, or how strong the wind was without trees and land formations to break the wind. But this was nothing like that. Hearing the soft gentle splashes of water as Suri rowed was soothing. It made Baldur feel at ease. Peaceful. And something else. I gotta take a piss. "Be right back you two. Gotta drain the Underking." said Baldur as he got up from beside Rebec to walk to the back of the boat. "Don't fall in," Rebec said with a smirk. "I'm a very good rower, auntie, and the waters are calm today." "I know, Suri. It was... Oh, just row." The feel of being on the water was magic to her, so Rebec leaned back and propped her head on hers and Baldur's packs, and closed her eyes for a catnap. Baldur started frantically unbuckling his straps around his greaves just enough to give the Underking a peek into the world to relieve himself. "Come on, buddy, come on. Ahhhh.....". Baldur leaned back with his eyes closed. The feeling of relieving himself in the water with the crisp cold air caressing him was invigorating and made him give out a long satisfied sigh as his urine loudly cascaded into the sea. The warmth from it in the cold caused steam to slightly rise as it trailed behind the boat. Steam rose from Baldur's mouth as well as he let his sigh drag out. Suddenly Rebec felt movement and a pecking against her head coming from Baldur's pack and Karsh voice could barely be heard in her ear. "Get off. Get off, you raven squashing hunk of meat." Rebec scrambled away, rocking the small boat. "Gods' eyes! Off with you, you flea-bitten devil. Baldur, get your pet out of our things before I wring its neck with my bare hands!" Meanwhile, Suri had stopped rowing, her eyes widening. Baldur looked back in frustration in mid stream, glaring in the direction of the bird. "Yea, I'm coming in a second." Sighing in frustration of being interrupted from his godly pee, Baldur sped it up, gave some shakes and put the Underking back in the netherworld. Walking his way back while strapping back up, Baldur looked to Suri. "Don't worry, I'll explain later. Karsh!" Baldur stuck his arm out for the bird to perch on his arm. "Sleep time's up." Karsh quickly climbed up along Baldur's arm to his shoulder and spoke into his ear. "Figures it would be that raven hating and pie baking bitch to wake me up from my nap. Raven-pie, bah. Couldn't you have picked a mate with a friendlier attitude towards talking birds?" Baldur was still glaring at Karsh as he spoke. But he did it in a whisper so Suri wouldn't hear as he walked to the back of the boat. "You keep it up with calling her out of name and I'll be helping with that raven pie. How many talking birds do you know anyway, eh?" "Zero. But that makes me a rare breed and that she wants to make me extinct. She wants to kill and eat me, how would you feel if someone wanted to do the same to you?" Baldur smiled a bit, but kept from laughing. This was a serious matter, and Karsh had to know he meant business. He was a little like a child, Baldur realized, and he needed to be taught. "She doesn't really wish to eat you. It's just a threat she says. She doesn't mean it. There's something you have to learn when dealing with people, especially Nords. We're distrusting of outsiders, and tend to be superstitious. I don't suppose you know that ravens to us symbolize death? And you're a talking raven. It's very odd. Very odd. You need to give her time and be more understanding. You may not believe it now, but if you show her some patience, she'll eventually warm up to you. Then you'll grow to like her. But you have to try and give an effort. One of the things you can do is apologize for pecking her, even if you think it was warranted. Normally, I'd say brawl it out and find understanding through fighting. But you wouldn't survive that." "I only pecked at her to keep her from squashing me. And I can see that she hates because I'm magical. Nothing I can do about that. Just listen to her calling me a devil and all that without any good reason. Unless you get rid of her mistrust of magic, we will never be able to get along. i can bring her a mountain of gold or shit on her, it wouldn't really change her opinion of me ether way." Baldur gave a sigh, but continued on with the discussion. "If you think that way, then yea, it will never change. That's exactly how the Dunmer of Windhelm thought too. But now, some of them are putting an effort to show they are trustworthy. In return, some of the nords are as well. Not all, not even most. That sort of thing takes time. But it will happen. If you're gonna be in Skyrim, you'd best heed my words. It'll make things easier in the long run. Besides, if you're gonna be sending letters to my brother, you really need to listen. He's likely not going to accept a talking raven very well either. I only did because I've seen some of what your master can do, and I'm a weird man. Just keep trying. Give her a mead or something before you leave. That's a good way to get to a nord. Same as how food works with you." "You really believe that? She'll just think I'm trying to manipulate her." Karsh pulled out a small diamond from his chest feathers with his beak which he then picked up with his talon. "Give her this and see for yourself about her reaction." Baldur's eyes grew wide as he stared dumbly while he tried to speak. "Wh- where'd the hell did you get that from?" "Some jeweler in the big city with the tower down south had his window open. I looked in to find an empty room and a small bag of these shinies. Managed to take a few and was in the middle of storing them away when you summoned me. This is the only one I got with me so don't ask for more." "You realize how much coin this bad boy can fetch?" Baldur took the rock from Karsh's claw and sized it up, holding it up to the sky to see it better. "I'm no jeweler, but it looks like it's already been cut. That'll raise the price. Here, you give it to her. I'll come with you. Ready? Work in an apology with it too. I'll walk over to her first and let her know you're coming near her." "Sure, but you owe me a new shiny if she doesn't change her attitude and give me some food." Baldur bit his lip, as he wasn't sure if he could afford to buy a new "shiny" to give to a bird. He knew how Rebec was. It was a risk. "Couldn't I just give you some steak or something? Or kill a deer? What would a raven need a diamond for anyway? It's not like you could trade it in for money to buy food." "I like them and I collect them. Same like you people. You like them and collect them, otherwise you wouldn't treasure them so much." Baldur had nothing to say to that, as the bird was right. Jewelry wasn't really useful, just valued for the looks. "Okay then, you wait here." Baldur put his arm to the side of the boat so Karsh would scoot off. Afterwards, he turned to Rebec as he walked over. "Hey, Rebec...hows it going?" He said somewhat awkwardly. Rebec looked up suspiciously. "About as well as it was two minutes ago. What have you got up your sleeve, Red-Snow?" "Not me, Karsh. He's got a present for you. He feels bad about pecking you, and he wants to apologize. He'll leave you alone. He just doesn't want any hard feelings. Will you accept his gift? You'll like it. Could help with your ship." "The bird wants to apologize," Rebec repeated skeptically, then shook her head. She glanced at Suri. The redguard had started rowing again, but was staring at them like they'd both lost their minds. What he said about her ship caught Rebec's attention, so she turned back. "Okay, what is it?" "Well, I was thinking about the last one and how it got caught on fire. You were telling me once about some ship mumbo jumbo I didn't really understand all too much, but I did remember you said that the pitch is often what causes fires. And since your mother's ashes are going to be a part of this ship's pitch, you'll want to prevent that. We can have an alchemist in Solitude mix in some magical fire resistant potion with ours to prevent that from happening. But that will cost a lot of coin. Go ahead, Karsh. Rebec, hold up your arm." Baldur motioned with his hand for Karsh to come over. "Be nice, Rebec. The gift I think warrants it." She had to hide a smile that Baldur was trying so hard, though her expression turned sour again when she looked at the bird. Biting back some comment about how the bird better not crap on her, Rebec grumbled and held out her arm. "The things you make me do, Red-Snow. The things you make me do." Karsh made his way across in small hops with the diamond in his beak. When he reached Rebec's hand he first looked at her suspiciously and curiously before dropping the diamond in her open palm. He then pulled the furs on Baldur's gauntlet so he could climb up to his shoulder along his arm, where he spoke into his ear. "Remember that if doesn't work out, you owe me new shiny." Rebec's fist was balled tight as the bird landed on her arm, but she opened her palm and her eyes widened at sight of the diamond. "Stolen, is it?" she said. "Or has your master learned to make gems? Now that would be a useful skill." Her mouth worked and she seemed prone to tossing the stone into the sea. Behind her, Siri said, "Aunt Rebec, that's a nice diamond. I can see it from here." Her mother was a gem merchant, so the girl had some experience. Grumbling, Rebec closed her hand over the diamond and regarded the bird, who was by then begging from Baldur. "I expect you'd better give him something. Is he really going to take letters to junior?" Baldur looked to Karsh, grinning slightly before saying, "Aye, that he is. Don't you think you should say something to Karsh, Rebec? The diamond is stolen, but its stolen from Cyrodiil. Not our problem. You have to admit, the coin will come in handy. And a fire resistant ship will be a godsend. I think perhaps that deserves a thank you for Karsh from you." Karsh only croaked at Rebec while gesturing to his open beak with his left wing. "Cyrodiil, eh? Well, that's a start. You want me to feed him? " She made a face. "Ugh, Baldur. Why do you do this to me." Nevertheless she started rooting in her pack until she found a hunk of cheese, broke off a small piece and tossed it at the bird. The raven did not however not even try to catch it and simply let it fly past him. He stopped croaking and looked at Rebec with a tilted head. "I thought you were supposed to be smart? You got something against good Eidar cheese?" asked Rebec. "Rebec, I think he wants you to give it to him personally. Nicely." said Baldur. "I think you can manage that." She scowled at Baldur. "Don't take that tone with me. This whole thing is fucked sideways." Breaking off another piece of cheese, she held it out for the bird. "Come on, princess. Take it or leave it." "This is a big step for her, Karsh. Just take it." said Baldur. Karsh took and quickly ate the cheese before speaking into Baldur's ear. "She didn't change her attitude at all and she can't even pretend to be nice. You owe me a new shiny." Baldur smiled at Rebec to say thank you, then walked away so as not to weird out Suri even more. Looking out at the water, Baldur said, "You only think that because you don't know her. She just needs time. Her even giving you a piece of food is a sign. Now once you start delivering letters to Boldir for us, and once she gets to use that diamond, you'll see a change. That was the first step. You can't expect her attitude to change over night. Remember what I said about the Dunmer. She also doesn't like giving apologies or admitting she is wrong, so keep that in mind as well." "I'll give you two more visits. If she hasn't changed her attitude towards me by then. You owe me a new shiny." said Karsh. Baldur stuck out his index finger for Karsh to shake. "Tell you what, how about I get you some fresh killed venison instead, and I singe it for you myself? That's gotta be worth more to a raven then a shiny." "The venison and a nicely built nest in your house in Solitude. I want it large and well hidden and filled with soft and durable blankets." "INSIDE T-" Baldur shouted the words, then quickly lowered his voice, so Rebec wouldn't catch what he was saying. Continuing in a whisper, he said, "Inside the house? You're killing me, bird. Fine, it's a deal. But you have to be on your best behavior. And no pooping in the house, either. Rebec has a study there that I was using as a sort of office. It has a window that you can fly through to get in. You can stay in there to rest before you go on trips. Sound good?" Baldur stuck his finger back up to seal the deal. In all honesty, I'd have gotten Karsh the venison and the nest anyway eventually. "We got a deal. And make sure I can enter the nest whenever I want. And the blankets have to be soft and I will need lots of space to move around in and to be able to store things." Karsh grabbed Baldur's finger, one talon claw accidentally sticking inside the finger so it hurt, and shook as much as could without losing his balance. Rebec glanced over at her husband suspiciously as he shouted, then turned to Suri. "Not a word of this to your father." "Not a word," Suri repeated, then added, mumbling, "As if he'd believe me anyway." Baldur grimaced, but continued the shake before finally breaking away. "Damnit, those talons are like daggers. Good thing my gauntlets have thick leather padding over my fingers. Anyway, here." Baldur went back to his pack and pulled out the rolled up and ribbon closed letter. He took out another piece of paper along with a quill and a bit of ink and wrote in big capital letters: YOU'RE NOT CRAZY. THE BIRD TALKS. Baldur then stuck that in as well, and took out a small bit of cheese and gave it to Karsh. "Here's one for the road. And here's the letter. Don't forget to ask Witchie for an amulet for Boldir as well." Karsh took the cheese with his beak and stuffed it carefully in his chest feathers. "Why can't you write smaller letters? And I doubt boss will do another amulet. I am linked to that amulet, any more amulets would be... strenuous." "Sorry, we hadn't had a chance to speak to Boldir in a while. That's a few letters actually. I suppose maybe you can just give Boldir some time to write his own letter before taking off then? That way he can write us back." "Maybe, depends on how long it will take for him to write. I wont stay more than a day." Karsh then grabbed the letter with his talon. "And boss said something about that you're free to accuse Lorgar for any war crimes he might have committed. And if he do flee to or through Skyrim and you catch and kill him, can I have his eyeballs? Eyeballs are yummy, and I've never tasted werewolf eyeballs before." Baldur normally would have laughed at that, but the memory of Rebec being tortured by thalmor was still in his head. Lorgar didn't stop them, but he put up resistance. Normally that wouldn't mean shit to him, but he saw how far it could have gone. "Depends. If he proves to be an enemy of Skyrim still, I have no issue with it. I don't bury my enemies. Let's just say your kind and I are pretty close." I need to hear it from him first, however. Lorgar isn't one for deception. He'll tell me what he's up to. "I take that as a yes." said Karsh. Baldur wasn't yet sure, so he stayed silent for a moment. He knew that it wasn't Lorgar's efforts to help Rebec that kept him from saying yes. Not after the arrow he sent to her in Falkreath while he was captured. It was his distrust of Witchie, plain and simple. Paranoia. In the end, Lorgar was no friend of his. The alliance did not change this, and it never would. "Yes. Before you leave, did your master ever mention what Lorgar was up to?" "Only that he's planning something against him, but he doesn't know what. But he's sure that for Lorgar's plan to have any real effect it will have to cause a lot of collateral damage. Lorgar isn't the most stable or sensible person and boss wants to be rid of him before he can do anything stupid." Said Karsh. Baldur gave a pause to think. Maybe Witchie's up to something...Not that it matters much. Whatever it is doesn't involve Skyrim. So I can't do anything with the Thalmor around. Anything Lorgar is doing against Witchie is foolish and we don't need conflict right now. "Why in the world would Lorgar be working against Witchie? What has he done to him? And last I heard, Dales gave him some big promotion. She can't just order him to stand down?" "To put it in boss's words: 'Lorgar's insane.' He might just be envious of that boss have the empress ear more that he does. Even boss doesn't really understand why Lorgar goes against him." Baldur started rubbing his chin, thinking. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time he did something that didn't make sense. He's crazy seems too convenient, but whatever. Bottom line is we can't have conflict with Lorgar and the court mage. Witchie needs to be focused on other matters, seeing as how he's basically running the Empire. Maybe that's Lorgar's issue. Still, he's putting us all at danger right now, so he needs to be stopped." "Seems like you already know the answer, so why ask me? Asked Karsh. "You've had more dealings with the madman than I have." "That should be clear." Said Baldur. "Because I distrust your master, and I'm just seeking as much info as I can get. Seems foolish asking someone who is loyal to him, but I had to ask. That and I often ask questions to things I already know. Extra clarification is always nice to have." "How much do you distrust him?" Asked Karsh. Baldur gave Karsh a sly grin. "You trust me to tell you that truthfully? Heh, clearly not that much since I'm using his pet raven. If I really distrusted him, I'd wonder if he just sent you to spy on me. But there's no reason for that clearly. Being a general just makes me wonder about a lot of things. I'm also paranoid about another matter, which is why I had Ulfric not tell anyone about my whereabouts recently. A man named Samuel. He showed me I have to be careful and wary of everyone. Especially now. I won't put anything past anyone." "I'm no pet, I'm a companion. And what did this Samuel do to you?" "Samuel? He had some invisible ambushers capture me during the war. They gave me up to Thalmor, who then tortured me in an attempt to gain information. I didn't do something Samuel wanted done, so he responded. I had men with me, but I didn't account for invisible soldiers. Heh, go figure. Turned out well in the end, however. Won't be making that mistake again though. Which is why I question things so much." "Is this Samuel by any chance an imperial information broker?" Baldur looked surprised at first but quickly changed his expression to a suspicious glare. "What do you know, Karsh?" Karsh brought up his wings in what looked like a shrug. "Not much. He's probably in the big tower city as that's where I last saw him. Though he's quite elusive, even for me." "Ah, so he was in the Imperial City. Why were you following him? Witchie ordered you to?" Asked Baldur. "Boss was slightly interested and curious about the man because of what he did to that imperial general during the war. Boss also wants to keep him at arms length because of it." "Keep him at arms length." Baldur said the words with slight anger and stayed quiet for a moment. "He's been using him. That's why he had you follow him. I'm sure he knows what happened with him and I. I also suppose he finds him useful. Enough to forget that he worked with Thalmor? But Samuel is an information broker. Deals with the highest bidder. So I suppose Witchie isn't bothered because of that. Still. Rubs me the wrong way. If he's smart, he'll just kill him before he lives long enough to bite him in the ass." Sounds familiar. What if Witchie pulls a Samuel and turns against me if I refuse to kill some elf? "As far as I know boss have only utilized him once. And I had been following him before boss did so as the man seems to get around quite a lot in the tower city. If you want to know more you'll have to send some questions directly to boss." Baldur shook his head and dismissed the proposal. "No need. It's not something I care about right now. I'll ask Witchie about it later. It's obviously not something I need to worry about if he didn't bother telling you not to tell me." Rebec had taken to rowing while her husband was chatting with his new friend- mostly to give her hands something to do rather than wring the bird's neck. She kept her eyes on them, though, as did Suri occasionally, though the redguard was more curious than hostile. Once she leaned over and whispered to Rebec, "It seems quite useful, having a raven messenger who can talk." She got such a glare from her aunt that she fell silent and started looking towards her father's ship, now in hailing distance. Karsh spoke into Baldur's ear. "If you still got the rune cloth you can ask the court mage in Solitude to send a letter. And boss said you should refer to him as Varghr to her as that is the name she knows him by." "Ugh, first I had to remember Skjari, now I gotta remember Varghr too? That's fine. If I feel the need, I'll contact him." Baldur turned around to see the ship in the distance behind him. "You should be on your way soon, Karsh. And remember, try easing Boldir in to things. He's...complicated. A talking raven will make him think he's insane more so than others." Karsh gave off a short croaking sound, like he was laughing. "This could get fun." And before Baldur could respond he flew off towards land. Baldur wanted to shout at the bird, but he was already too far away. After a while Baldur just laughed and let it be as he walked back to Rebec and Suri. "Okay, Rebec. He's gone. You can stop frowning now. Although you're cute when you're angry, so whatever." Baldur gave a big grin after saying this. He knew it was hard to be mad at someone who was smiling. "You and that bird are so thick, maybe you should get him to warm your bedroll," she answered, sulking. Vilnur called out then, and Rebec hailed him back, and brought the dinghy alongside the larger ship. Suri helped to lash the two together and then climbed halfway up the rope ladder her father threw down. The two women passed the packs up the ladder first, then Suri climbed up. Gesturing at Baldur, Rebec grinned. "Landlubbers first. You fall in with that armor on and we'll be a while fishing you out, so take a potion." She tossed a waterbreathing potion in his direction, obviously considering what she said no idle danger. Baldur looked at the potion, clearly feeling insulted at the notion. "What am I, a rookie? I may not be a good swimmer, but I know my armor. We can swim well enough in it for me not to drown." With that, he tossed the potion back. "Ladies first, horker pup." Baldur stuck his tongue out at her childishly. Giving a warning gesture with the potion bottle, she said, "You're pushing your luck, general. Suit yourself." Rebec scooted up the ladder. While she was waiting for Baldur, she did a little whirling jig of happiness. "Sea legs again! It's been too long." When Baldur made his way up, Baldur expected to feel something when he got on, but he wasn't really sure what. He looked to Rebec and saw how cheery she was being on a ship and figured it was something he'd feel with time, or when the boat was moving. Something. But Rebec was happy about being on one again, so so was he. "So, about the diamond. You gonna use it or would you rather me give it back?" "Give it back, are you crazy? If the bird wants to pay for his food with gems, that works for me. Did you have to make me feed him, though? It gives me the creeps." Around them, Vilnur's crew are scurrying past, tightening the lashes on the dinghy and preparing to lift anchor. "Aw come on, he gave you a diamond! You can't at least pretend to be nice for a diamond? It's just a bird. A talking bird, granted but it's harmless. He gave you the diamond because he wanted you to like him." "Baldur, I'm not going to cuddle your talking bird. You do whatever you want with him. If he's useful, then I don't mind him coming around, but that's as far as I go." She went to the rail and looked out toward the Sea of Ghosts, choppy with some storm off far to the north. Oy, good thing I talked Karsh out of giving him a shiny, then. Truth be told I knew she wouldn't really warm up to him. At least not in two visits. I just didn't want to have to repay him, heh. Baldur finally just accepted that Rebec didn't share his love for crows and ravens and decided to let it go. Walking over to the rail and hugging from behind, he said, "But my cuddling privileges are still good. Right?" Grinning, Rebec put a hand on his arm and nuzzled his bearded cheek. "I prefer your fur to feathers. So, here you are. Not my ship, but close. Are you excited?" "I'm more excited to really take to the sea when we go to Hammerfell. But yes, I'm excited for the experience. See what it is that has you so enthralled. Think we can go out a bit from the coast just because? On our way to Hammerfell I mean." Her smile turned mysterious. "Already planned on it. You let me handle the navigation." Nearby Vilnur shouted, "Hoist sail!" Men pulled on rigging to lift the square sail, which filled out immediately. The ship, which had been drifting in the wind, began to pick up speed. The blonde Nord walked past the couple, saying, "Welcome aboard, general. We've got a good wind and will be in Solitude by nightfall. What was this I heard you say about a talking bird, sister?" "Never mind!" The couple had shouted out the word in unison, clearly thinking it best not to have Vilnur think they were completely crazy. "It's just another one of my crazy bard tales. Think nothing of it, Vilnur." said Baldur, giving him a forced smile. The captain shrugged and gestured towards the stair belowdecks. "Mead keg's down there, but you might want to take it easy if this is your first sea voyage in a while." "First ever," Rebec corrected. Vilnur's brow shot up. "A genuine landlubber? Don't worry, we'll have salt in your veins before long. Now, you'll have to excuse me. Better go rescue my new crew members." Towards the front of the boat, a few redguard sailors were gathered around talking to Suri, not realizing their hopes were futile. "Ah, looks like Suri's making friends. Suri is quite the looker. Took after her beautiful Aunti." said Baldur while wrapping his arm around Rebec. "I know you're using your bard wiles now, but you're so damn good at it, Red-Snow." She grinned and brushed a hand across his cheek. Up above a seagull cawed at them, following the ship hoping for scraps. Glaring up at him, Rebec shouted, "Ohhh, no! No more bird feedings today!" "Hahaha! Now that is a skeever with wings, Reb. I never did apologize to you about the Karsh thing, did I?" "Don't apologize. You're strange, but that's part of what I love. Just... don't push it." She smiled wryly and hugged his arms closer. This was definitely the way to sail. "I'd like to apologize anyway. You know me. Hmm..." Baldur took a look at the sea, then to Rebec, and he knew just how. Baldur took his gauntlets off, then unbuckled the leather coverings over his upper arms. Once those were off, he loostened the fastings on his chestpiece and lifted that over his head with his cape. Afterwards, Baldur lifted Rebec up by her arms and sat her up on the railings and held her so she wouldn't fall back, catching her lips with his as he did. Rebec was perfectly comfortable on a boat, but confused as Baldur started stripping. "Baldur, we shouldn't..." she said, laughing, assuming he was thinking lascivious thoughts. When he lifted her up and then kissed her, she smiled in the midst of it and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, while the sailors standing nearby catcalled and whistled. Baldur broke away temporarily to speak. "Ah, there we go. This is how I pictured sailing would feel." Smiling, Rebec stroked his cheeks. "Welcome aboard, then." She leaned forward and caught his mouth again, ignoring the audience.

Jon- Laenius Home, Dawnstar, Afternoon Jon finished lacing up his boots, eager to get moving. After all, this was one of his favorite things to do back in Cyrodiil. Reading about the mainly petty problems of Cyrodiil's nobles was one of the few things that made him smile. Well, almost made him smile anyways. He especially enjoyed reading the problems of nobles of lesser importance. For some reason it seemed that they thought that their problems somehow affected everyone. In reality, no one cared about their problems, or about them at all. They were just pawns for people with more swing in the political landscape. He had always figured the lesser nobles knew this, considering how obvious it was to him. Although if he was to take his experience with lesser nobles as an example, he was less sure of that. Jon finally reached the edge of town, where he saw a familiar sight. As he approached, a heavier set Imperial woman called out to him. "Jon, is that you? Come over here," the blonde haired woman, Renee, practically screamed. "You look just as impressive as the last time I saw you. How long has it been?" "... Thanks Renee. And it's been 7 months, 2 weeks." Just then, a Breton man appeared from behind a tent. "Well it seems you haven't changed a bit during that time Jon. It's good to see you." "I assume you haven't changed either, Marcel." "Right as always my friend. So, what can I do for you this time Jon?" Renee spoke up. "Oh come on, you should know what he is here for. It's your noble gossip, right?" "...Yes." "Knew it! Well I had Siri write up a book on the news the whole time, in case we ran into you." "Thanks." "Welcome. Although, I'd much rather you stay here, and I could update you on the news myself. Maybe over dinner." Marcel glared at Renee. "Renee, quit pestering him. You know darn well he wants the book. Go grab it from Siri." Renee raised her hand as if she wanted to object, but then lowered it and complied with her boss' orders. "Thank you Marcel." "No problem. She's quite the hound when it comes to men." "That's for sure. So how has business been?" "Pretty good. The mercenary landscape has really shifted since you left the scene. A bit of a power struggle, you might say. No one really knows who the best is yet. Who is your pick?" "Well if I had to pick, I would say Halof is pretty high up on the chain, and is probably trying to show up the likes of Alvos, Aerin, and probably Varus as well. I would say Ormil, but he had that mess up in Bruma. A rookie mistake, by a very professional man. Can't say I will ever grasp that one. Guess that's why he could never outclass me." "It sure is. It will be a while before another establishes themselves as well as you did. It's hard to find such a respectable man that can do the things you have done." "Yeah. Other than Eduard and myself, respectful mercenaries don't tend to last too long. Can't say that's too surprising." Finally Renee returned, with a book in hand. "Here you are," she said, handing Jon the book. "Thank you," Jon said as he turned his attention to Marcel. "Now for the price. Let's see. Dawnstar is a bit out of the way for you guys, but business has been doing well. I'm a close friend, so you will probably give me leniency there. 110?" "You see, this is why I say you should have worked with me. You are just as good at this as you are everything else. Truly amazing my friend." "Thank you. Marcel, Renee. It was good to see you two again. Send Siri my regards." "What is so special about her," Renee muttered to herself. "See you Jon." Jon gave one last nod of his head, before heading back into town. He was eager to get to reading. He had a particular timeframe that he wanted to start with. He returned to the house, and quickly made himself comfortable in his favorite chair. He opened the book, and began scanning through the pages. Land disputes... Drunk in public... Stormcloak sympathizer claims... Aha. Here we are. Princess Dales Motierre crowned Empress of Cyrodiil. Now my young Empress, lets see how Cyrodiil is doing under your rule. Eduard says she seemed to have grown up just enough to where he doesn't think she'll screw the entire Empire. Let's see how true that is holding so far. He began to look through he earliest decisions, quickly coming across something that caught his eye. Empress Dales names Praefect Lorgar Grim-Maw the Royal Spymaster, along with giving him the rank of... Duke. Blackwood? Oh, we were doing quite well. What in the world happened here. Surely it doesn't take a genius to figure out he is little more than a soldier with supernatural talents. Of course, I haven't seen his supernatural abilities in person. But I have the word of Eduard. Mysterious cloak in the darkness. Exceptional speed, strength, and... ignorance. That was Eduard's last description. And by all accounts I have heard he is just a soldier, with nothing supporting the notion of him having any potential as a politician. As a matter of fact, it would seem everything seems to point in the opposite direction. I mean, she did the right thing with the first two. General Tullius. He's an ass, I remember that much. Met him when I did some allied jobs for the Legion. But he was extremely intelligent, and was probably deserving of the reward he received. And then there is General Gracchus. Personally I know very little about him. But Eduard has told me enough. He is a good man, and became a good leader too. Was crucial for the Legion's survival once Marius defected. Taught Eduard a couple things. And that's one hell of an achievement. So I'm confident he was deserving of what he received. So what happened with Lorgar? If anything, I would say either Tullius or Gracchus would have been the one to receive such a reward. Even then, it still would have been a bit much. Maybe he saved her life? That's all I've got. Some people don't know how to repay such a debt. Usually that's a good thing for the lifesaver. Although I don't see any good for either party in this decision. I have a feeling this won't be the last I hear of Mr. Grim-Maw. He continued on, now getting to her early laws. Anti-Dominion laws... Some more Anti-Dominion laws. Well, I guess that was assumed. I mean of course the trash had to be taken out at some point. However, we all know its the Thalmor who are the garbage. Not the Dominion itself. Although I guess they are just covering their bases. With this amount of Anti-Dominion laws, it wouldn't be surprising if their is an increased amount of racism towards the Mer, mainly Altmer. Collateral damage, they would say I suppose. I can't fault her here. Although the pace of these laws is quite staggering. I know her friend was murdered by a Dominion assassin, but surely she isn't that childish to blame every Elf ever. Maybe it's Lorgar? He has reason enough to hate the Thalmor. And Skjari, the court Mage. Eduard tells me he was pressing for the destruction of the Thalmor from the start. The Empress may want to watch how far she takes this. I would hate to see her become an oppressive force against Elves, some of which never did anything wrong. He moved on, beginning to read some of the more minor news. So their daughter called your boy a drunk. Glad to know you had to call her out on that. Good for you... Oh, he broke your vase? Banish him to Oblivion. Accidents are prohibited for nobles. He continued reading, before coming across something that didn't surprise him one bit. Royal Spymaster and Duke, Lorgar Grim-Maw, having dispute with Court Mage Skjari. Nature of dispute unknown, although it appears serious. It was only a matter of time, wasn't it Lorgar? Never able to just accept things. Always have to fight it out? First against the Cloaks. Now against your Empress' Mage. I would imagine she will be very disappointed in you. By now though, you are probably used to that kind of thing. He should use that speed and get out of Cyrodiil. Because I figure apologizing and working things out aren't even real concepts to him. You need to sort this out soon, Empress. If it were me, I would relocate him to a different position. Back into the Legion. Station him far away. Or kill him. I don't care really. Just get it done soon. Jon decided to close the book for now, and save it for later. He left the house to spend the evening training.

Continued from last post Rebec giggled. "He didn't really say that to you, did he?" Of course he did. She couldn't hold back a simpering smile. "We'd best get back. Vilnur and Suri will be along and here we are naked as the day we were born." Laughing slightly before cleaning his hair out, Baldur said, "Hehe, fine. Give me a second first to clean my hair. I guess I'm to put on your father's clothes?" "You'd be more comfortable," she agreed. "You can just stay in your loincloth for now. Works for my pa." Rebec hurried back to the sauna to get her clothes. Baldur was wearing his night clothes before , which he couldn't wear again during the day. But then again Baldur really didn't look forward to talking to Vigge when he was naked and alone with his daughter...and of course still naked. So Baldur followed Rebec to go and get his previous wears before going back to the house. As they emerged from the trees near the house, the flaws of this plan became apparent. The yard around the house was a buzz of activity, with people from the town setting up a large table and braziers for warmth, turning meat over makeshift fire pits, and unloading barrels of mead from a wagon. Rebec stood a moment, dazed. "What in Oblivion is going on?" "Uhhh..." Baldur just stood there, looking at the people below, then looking at his nakedness, then to Rebec's. All he could manage to do was laugh hysterically at their predicament at first. After he got it out of his system, Baldur grabbed her hand. "Too bad you don't have one of those magic scrolls anymore, eh? Ready to face the music? I wonder what the hell all this is anyway. Bet Vigge was planning this..." Vigge burst from the house as if summoned, and only glanced at Baldur and Rebec, unperturbed at the sight of them in near undress. He was overloaded with wheels of cheese, which he deposited on a side table before going back into the house. More people were coming up the path from Dawnstar, including Mazoga, who started shaking her head and laughing as soon as she saw them. "You two at it again? I know Nords like the cold and all, but this is ridiculous." "Shut up and tell me what's going on," Rebec answered. "Your pa's been planning this for a while. A lot of the ship captains are coming. This party's for you and the general, Cap. A little thank you for your part in ending the blockade." Rebec turned to look at Baldur. "Stick a tail on me and call me a Khajiit." "At least then you'd be covered in fur." Mazoga laughed and continued on into the yard to help with the party preparations. Baldur was chuckling as well, finding the situation completely hilarious. "Well, looks like I was right, he was behind this. Well, nothing left to do but hurry and get dressed before more people come." There was more activity in the house. Rebec pulled Baldur into Vigge's room and rooted in drawers until she found trousers and a nice embroidered, fur-lined tunic for him. Then she dashed out to retrieve a tunic and trousers of her own before dashing back in to change into them. When they emerged, the front door was propped open and Vigge shouted at them to get out of the way as he carried a barrel of ale out the door. Outside, Rebec spied Vilnur and Suri emerging on the path, just as her niece spotted her. "Aunt Rebec! Uncle Baldur!" The young woman came running up, her hair loose and wearing Skyrim-style fur armor with fancy buckles and trim. She had a new jagged scar on her left cheek, just under the eye. Suri hugged Rebec, then grabbed Baldur as well, saying excitedly, "Isn't this great? You should see all the ships docked in Dawnstar. Gods, I've got so many stories to tell you." "Suri!" Baldur ruffled the young warrior girl's hair after her hug. "We've got some interesting tales to tell ourselves later on. I still can't quite believe all this. A party was the last thing I expected when coming here. How'd you get that scar?" Suri turned her face to display the scar, saying proudly, "I fought my first ice wraith! Outside Winterhold. There were three of them and I killed one by myself. That means I'm a true Nord now, doesn't it?" Her father Vilnur came up behind her, chuckling at overhearing his daughter's words. He was a younger, slightly smaller version of Vigge, with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and a trimmed moustache and beard. He gave Rebec a side hug and waited to be introduced to Baldur, not daring to interrupt Suri when she was telling war stories. Baldur smiled proudly at the tale, remembering his younger years when his father made him go hunt an ice wraith as a call to manhood. It was nordic tradition. Come back a warrior or don't come back at all. Although Ulrin never showed him any hint of being proud. "Girl, you were a true nord since Falkreath. I saw you in action you know. Wouldn't expect any less from someone in our family." Suri laughed happily. She was less restrained than she had been in Falkreath, though that was partly due to the occasion. Her first experience of war had been sobering. Gesturing at Vilnur, she said, "This is my father, Vilnur Salt-Beard. Papa, this is General Ba-" "Baldur Red-Snow. The man himself." Vilnur stuck out his hand. "Congratulations on the victory at Falkreath, and on marrying my sister. Or should I say condolences for that part?" He grinned as Rebec punched his arm. "Ah, my Brother-in-law!" said Baldur after shaking Vilnur's hand. "Thank you, your condolences are most appreciated. Your sister can be a handful on a good day. Wait til I tell you what she did on our way to Whiterun from Falkreath...." "Oh?" Vilnur glanced at Rebec, who was glaring at her husband with hands on hips. He laughed and said, "First let me thank you for taking care of Suri in Falkreath. I don't know what I would've done if... Anyway, thanks." Baldur briefly pictured the devastation on the family if Vilnur too lost his daughter, and thanked the gods nothing did happen. He imagined Rebec's family may never had forgiven him for it. If Baldur knew about Jala sooner, he probably wouldn't have let Suri risk her life fighting, but that wouldn't have been fair to the girl. She was a warrior and deserved the chance to earn scars and glory. Baldur pushed the thought out of his head. This was a happy occasion. Smiling again, Baldur said, "Don't mention it. It was my duty. We were glad to have her. Brother." I wish Boldir was here. "I'd better help Papa," Rebec said. "He's in a state. You three go get some mead and catch up." Suri took Baldur's arm and walked with him towards some camp chairs near a brazier. "I climbed the 7000 Steps, too. I've never been so cold in my life." Baldur looked back to Rebec as he was pulled away, but looked ahead again as he got used to the idea that she'd be gone for a bit, hoping it wouldn't be for too long. "Did you? Was it what you expected? I was hoping to get in High Hrothgar, but of course that didn't happen. All I found was some wolves, a frost troll, a new found hate for Jurgen Windcaller and the tongues that followed him, oh and of course the most amazing view I've ever seen in my life. Sound about right?" "Did some idiot tell you there were only a few wolves? We were with some other pilgrims or we'd have had real trouble with that troll." Suri released his arm as they sat, and Vilnur brought some tankards of mead over for them. "Papa said the animals are the trials of Kyne. Do you believe that?" "Hmm, I wouldn't doubt it. High Hrothgar is a very holy place to us nords. It's supposed to be the spot that Kyne breathed us into existence upon the land. It has a special connection to Kyne, so it makes sense that such beasts would be up there. Considering there's only one way up, which is through the town, perhaps she places them there. And yes, that idiot told me the same thing." Baldur took the mead bottle from Vilnur and thanked him with a nod. "Oh I forgot to tell you! Vilnur, your daughter helped me save the entire front line of my Grim Ones back at Falkreath. Rebec and I took off so fast I forgot to mention it. Remember that story you told me of Cyrus, Suri?" "About how he cut off the spellcaster's arm? Some of the Ra Gada fighting in Falkreath told me. Papa, listen to this." She gestured with her tankard for Baldur to tell the story. Apparently she'd gotten used to mead, after turning her nose up at it before. Baldur raised his eyebrows in surprise, as he didn't think the tale got around. Baldur cleared his throat and leaned forward to tell the story. "Okay this is a bit of a mouthful. So the Thalmor were pouring through a hole in the wall that we had the Imperials blow open, so we could better trap the twinkle fingered bastards in between our two forces. At first the fight was going rather well. We started pushing them out of the town and we had a few Dunmer battlemages who set up magic wards to protect from mage fire and lightning. Suddenly a Justiciar comes forward and starts rallying men around him, nothing special at first. But he wasn't like normal Justiciars. He was much more powerful. He starts gathering a fire in his hands so hot and intense that even I could feel its heat and I had fire resistances. The blaze was so fierce that it lit up the front of the battlefield in the dark of the storm. He starts walking up to the front lines and calls me out. Something like "We'll see if you're Unkindled after this!" Then the damn spell shot out this tiny bolt, but the bolt when it went off sent out this huge explosion that destroyed all our wards at once! If it weren't for the wards, my men would have been dead right there. Suddenly, the mage starts preparing for another spell, and the situation looks grim. He had soldiers blocking his front and if he got off another spell, I'd have lost a lot of men including my brother, Boldir. So suddenly my mind drifts back to Suri and her tale of Cyrus and I figure I have no other choice but to put the tale to the test. I had one of my men kneel down and prop up his shield so that I could use it to jump over their front lines. When I did, I came down and took the heads off of two Thalmor bastards with my axes and charged the mage. My brother saw me do this, and he comes plowing through with his battle axe, impaling, hacking and head butting people left and right to get my back. Once I got to the mage, he aims the spell at me, and all his men start running so they don't get caught in the blast, but I grabbed the bastard's arm before he can, then I cut it off after snapping the elbow up out it's joint. And what do you know, the damn spell is still active in the hand! I assume it's because the caster was still alive, but in any event, my brother Boldir comes by and he kneels and uses my cape for cover since it's fire resistant, then I force the hand to cast the spell in front of us, using my shield to protect us in case the enchantments wasn't enough. All the mer in the area were cooked alive and the ones that weren't immediately retreated. All thanks to Suri. Cyrus was quite the talented warrior to figure that out on his own in the heat of battle." Rebec came up while Baldur was reciting this tale, having been shooed away by her father. She stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders, chuckling and repeating "head butting" as Baldur said it. Good old Iron Brow. When the story was finished, she said, "Don't give him that look, Vilnur. This story's true." Suri laughed. "I can't believe you remembered that in the heat of battle. That's what separates a true warrior from somebody who can just swing a sword. The killer instinct, that grabs the right technique at the right moment faster than the conscious mind can calculate..." "Oh, here we go," Vilnur groaned. Glaring at him, Suri said, "It's true. Ebonarm knew one thousand-and-one ways to kill a man with a sword, but he said the only way that mattered was the one-thousand and second. That was the one you didn't know you knew." She turned back to Baldur. "Ebonarm was a redguard with the soul of a Nord. He's my Let'dohel." "Soul guide," her father translated. "Ah I see. You'll have to tell me more of this Ebonarm sometime. And teach me some Yoku. It should come in handy when we go to Hammerfell. After our wedding when I told that tale of the Snow Prince, some of the Redguard women called me Tukta-mab'ro. Story teller. That's about the only bit of Yoku I know." Baldur put a hand over Rebec's as it rested on his shoulder, lacing his fingers through hers as he did. "Your daughter's absolutely right, by the way Vilnur. Combat techniques don't amount to much if you can't use it by instinct." "Oh, once you've heard 'Ebonarm said...' for the millionth time, you'll get tired of it, too." Vilnur put a hand on his daughter's shoulder and squeezed it. "Make no mistake, though. I'm as proud as any father could be of this one." After that, conversation became difficult as sailors kept coming up to Baldur and Rebec to greet and congratulate them. Their hands were full of food and gifts from every port between Solstheim and Anvil. Finally Vigge stepped to the head of the table and yelled for attention. Captain Kjar of the North Wind moved to his side. "Admiral Rebec, General Red-Snow. When I heard about the blockade, I thought we were all done for. When the ships showed up off each port, I knew we were done for. Then a miracle happened. Many of us complained about your demands, but we're here to tell you that we owe you a great deal. We owe you everything." There was applause and shouting. When that died down, Rebec spoke up. "Thank you. Thank you, all. This.... this is amazing. I don't know what else to say, except that this victory wasn't a miracle. It happened because King Ulfric believed in all of you, and because you showed Skyrim and the rest of Tamriel that Nord sailors are a force to be reckoned with. As far as I'm concerned, this is your celebration." Vigge was smiling at his daughter. After a pause, he shouted "ALL OF YOU, EAT!" Baldur didn't exactly know what to feel. This was the most gratitude he'd ever been shown for anything, let alone soldier work. He was so used to hearing about Whiterun's incident and hearing angry nords in Windhelm about Dunmer joining the Stormcloaks, let alone the Grim Ones. This was a drastic change of pace from before. Sailors thanking him was even less of a possibility of people he expected to get thanks from. He was always proud to be a Stormcloak, but most of the recognition he got came from them and families who had Stormcloaks. It was nice to see that others were happy about the duty they provided. It was even nicer to see Rebec receiving such praise. The war wouldn't have gone as well without her and her Admiral work. Baldur had just finished a goat leg and took a seat next to Vigge to see if he could squeeze out any more conversation from the man, but he didn't get his hopes up. He had a mead in his hand to give to him, in hopes that it would loosen him up some. "So, pa. Can I call you pa? Rebec calls Ysana ma sometimes. That's my mother." Rebec, seated at Baldur's other side, glanced up nervously at this question. Vigge stared at Baldur a few moments, his expression stony, though that seemed to be his natural look when he wasn't trying to appear otherwise. After a pause however, he cracked the barest of smiles and clapped Baldur on the shoulder. A man of few words, that was all the answer he gave. Rebec let out a small sigh of relief and patted Baldur's back. That was obviously a "yes." It was hard to get any more conversation out of him, not only because he wasn't inclined to it, but because the other ship captains kept sitting down at Vigge's other side, asking him questions and soliciting advice. The blockade had disrupted the entire shipping business in Skyrim and led to gouging and competition for the best contracts and crew members. Even though he was retired, it was apparent why Rebec's father was called Vigge the Elder. He mostly listened, but occasionally gave out advice on their problems. The captains seemed to regard him as some kind of statesman. While Rebec ate, she watched this for a while, then she leaned over and said quietly to Baldur, "This is what I want for us. To make something larger than you and me. Our own clan, but also something for Skyrim." Baldur put his arm over her shoulder and stole a piece of chicken from off her plate. As he gobbled it up, Baldur said while grinning, "We will. Or at least you will. Your port business will be the thing that will make the town grow. And the port will keep our navy strong. What better gift to Skyrim could we give?" She smiled at him, for once not even minding him stealing food off her plate. "I can't do that without you." "Who's Ysana? Never heard of her." Vigge, seeing his daughter and her husband making eyes at each other, leaned forward and interrupted. Baldur's smile subsided immediately when he realized he made the mistake of bringing Ysana up. But he supposed that it was a topic that was going to come up eventually...Grabbing a mead off of the table nearby, Baldur said, "She's...a priest. A retired priest." "What sort of priest?" "Well, she helps people. Like with relationships. Among other things." Baldur smirked briefly, then took a swig of the mead bottle. Vigge glanced from Baldur to Rebec and back. "So, a priestess of Mara. Does she follow the old ways?" Baldur looked at Rebec, nervous for the first time around Vigge since he got here, but of course the goofball found it more funny than anything else. Still, he wasn't foolish enough to let the topic last too long. "Not quite Mara per say, but yea, yea you can say she does. You can also say that the old ways never really got old or changed where she's concerned...Hey, speaking of old ways, did Rebec ever tell you I'm a battle bard?" "Is that so. Sing us something, then. We're all warriors here, except probably that Breton over there." Vigge suddenly stood and shouted, "Shut your mead-holes. My son-in-law is going to sing a victory song." Baldur got up from his chair in a hurry, thankful for the chance to change the subject. While rubbing his chin, Baldur started thinking of something he could sing. "You know, there's all sorts of victory songs I could sing, a lot of them you'd probably already heard. You folk are sailors though, and sailors are opportunists yes? Well, there's a tale I can tell you that could lead one of you to strike rich if you're brave men, now that the blockade is over. Are any of you men and women here brave?" There was shouting in reply, the general gist being "anyone who says different is dead." Baldur started to laugh ominously to set the mood for his tale. He looked around and saw that it was thoroughly dark enough for his story to have a desired affect. Truth be told, the tale wasn't all that scary, but many of the people in the crowd were quite drunk and also nords. Nords were known for being superstitious, sailors even moreso. Baldur walked around slowly, picking out his targets in the crowd that he thought were the most drunk. After he spotted them out, he walked up to a few individuals and whispered in their ears to scream as loud as they possibly could once they got the signal from the tale. One of the men Baldur spotted out was none other than Vilnur, and Baldur had Suri get ready to do the same. Once he was satisfied that he had enough people in on his little scheme, Baldur took some raw meat on a table that was to be cooked, and he dipped his finger in it and wiped the blood diagonally over his face. He turned back to the crowd with a smile as he heard some laughter, then jumped into his ballad. "This is the tale of a legendary man, The greatest pirate on the sea, a man they called Death-brand, No man could stand to him, but not many were bold, Enough to fight this pirate King from the land of the cold, He was donned in ancient Stalhrim, the unique armor of the nords, He’d slash his enemies to and fro with his powerful twin scythe –swords!" When Baldur said this, he drew two sailor's scythes from their sheathes and suddenly started swinging them around near them, making the men jump and spill their mead. The two men along with the crowd had gasped nervously before laughing it off and quieting down once more. Baldur however did not laugh, and he put on a wide eyed look on his face as he continued his tale. "The Nord was feared by all but his crew feared him the most, Haknir was the man’s name, the cursed King of Ghosts! His crew saw him first hand, in all of his mad glory, His violent fits and torturous ways gave birth to nightmares and stories, He loved murder and torture, often for it’s own sake, His violent chaotic ways would make any warrior shake, Some saw him as a god, some thought he was a demon, He had an unnatural lifespan, and the men thought that the reason, Was that he made a pact with Dagon and the seal was Deathbrand, The horrible scar across his face, like lava upon the land," Baldur made a fierce and savage snarling face as he pointed to the blood on it with his scythes and growled in a drunk man's face. The sudden outburst from him made him jump, and he quickly started drinking his mead to hide his embarrassment as his friends started chuckling at him. "No man looked on it and did not flinch, and none remained the same, It’s grotesque image is how the Nord ended up with his name, This grim warrior lived off of violence, killing, death and strife, Some even said he fed off souls to extend his unnatural life, But in the end his life did end, to the excitement of his crew, They looked to reap the benefits of all those that he slew, But none would receive a single coin, that is what he declared, None of his men had challenged him, for none of them would dare, He placed a curse on his armor and said that none could have it, For none of them was strong enough to challenge him and grab it, There would have been a mutiny if it was any other ship on the sea, But alas this was Haknir and there was none mightier than he, He had his gold put in his tomb to stay as he did rot, And he gave his men a map to go unto several spots, They did as they were told and split up his armor and weapons, But greed struck the quartermaster, and he learned a terrible lesson, He declared “Haknir is dead, or at least will be it seems.†So he put on his Stalhrim helmet and at once HE DID SCREAM!" When Baldur said this, he raised the two sythes in the air and screamed out the words with a shrieking ear piercing cry, and as soon as he did, on cue, nords had put out all the fires by kicking snow onto them, making the whole place dark. At the exact same time, all the people he spoke to let out blood curdling cries that got more than a few scared reactions. One man even fell backwards in his chair. Baldur waited for all the laughter to die out before he finally finished, singing in a low tone almost like a whisper. "It is said that you can still hear him at night, even now in our time, On a rocky shoal off the Northern coast of the island of Solstheim, His treasure still lays untouched by all, by any mer or man, So are any of you brave enough to seek the treasure of Deathbrand?" There was laughter, but it was nervous laughter. The sailors all knew the real terrors of the Sea of Ghosts, but even for them, the pitiless Nord servant of Dagon was infamous. The sound of slow clapping began from Vigge's place at the head of the table. As someone re-lit the brazier near him, the old man's weather-lined face appeared, the wrinkles knit from smiling. "Well done!" he shouted, and that set off a chorus of applause, shouts and whistles, the sailors clapping Baldur on the back. Rebec smiled up at him. "How do you do it?" Baldur started laughing as he handed back the two swords from the men he drew them from, then sat back down next to Rebec and Vigge as he wiped the blood from his face. "I don't know really. I suppose it's like how you can feel the glaciers beneath your feet while you're at sea, miss High Admiral. It's a gift. And it doesn't hurt when your audience is mostly drunk." Baldur winked and pointed his thumb over to Rebec's brother who was paler than the snow at the moment. Grinning, she answered, "Well, when you fought real pirates, the idea of one having a daedra prince behind him is no joke." "You're pretty good, Uncle," Suri agreed. "But don't try that in an Alik'r camp or it'd come to swords." "They don't like magic or the appearance of it," Vilnur explained. "Though they have their own kinds. Suri said you're coming to Hammerfell?" "Yes, after Rebec's new ship is finished. Heh, the Redguards sound like us nords. We tend to not like magic, unless it's Nordic magic." "The Alik'r are even more touchy. I think everyone's riled up because of the elves. At any rate, we'll be happy to welcome you into our home in Sentinel. Raesa likes visitors. She's a gem merchant, used to dealing with all kinds of people. Though the twins keep her busy these days." The party had broken up a little, with people standing around in the yard drinking mead, or going into the house to warm up. Vigge came over to them and handed two small bowls to Rebec. "Go on. The gods get their due." She seemed to know what her father meant, since she stood up and gestured with her head for Baldur to follow her. "Vilnur, you get the rest and bring the candles. Come on Suri, you should see this, too." With that, Rebec started walking back towards the sauna path. Baldur got up and did as he was told, but he had no idea what it was that was going on. He was about to ask Vigge, but then thought better of it and walked up to Rebec and whispered in her ear. "What's this all about? An offering?" She nodded. "We do it on feast days." They had reached the stone pillar on the sauna path. Rebec put the bowls into niches in the pillar, and Vilnur added a pigeon egg to one of them, while Vigge looked on. Rebec explained for Suri's benefit. "Milk for the fox, honey water for the moth, egg for the snake." She and Vilnur then lit candles in the niches. They walked further on into the forest, and stopped in the middle of the trees, where Vilnur tossed two separate pieces of raw meat. "Meat for the bear and wolf," Rebec said, lighting two candles and banking them in with snow to prevent a fire. Then she and Vilnur walked on through the forest, climbing up towards the same rocky slope where the cairns were located. Suri was watching all this with a skeptical expression. She glanced at Baldur as they walked. "Do all Nords do this?" Baldur's face grew somewhat somber and saddened at the question. The modern practices of the nords was always a sore topic with him. "Sadly, no. Most nords either have forgotten about the old gods or simply don't care. They mostly go by the Nine Divines now. Even I don't do this, but that's because my father was thoroughly imperialized. I read up on the old gods on my own. The moth is Dibella, the Whale is Tsun. The snake is Shor, the bear is Orkey and the dragon is Alduin. Imperials will tell you Alduin is just our version of Akatosh, but don't listen to them. I saw Alduin. That dragon was no Akatosh. They'll also tell you Ysmir is just Talos, but Ysmir was a title for Wulfharth as well. There's debate on who is the fox. Some think it's Stuhn, others think it's Ysmir. I don't think we'll ever truly know again as this pantheon was based from the animal worship of our ancestors and a lot of the reasoning was largely forgotten. Some scholars have gone into ruins and found many ancient stone workings and art that show the depiction of our gods. This is how we know who some of them are. Kyne is depicted as a hawk for her domain of the skies. Dibella is a moth likely for their ways of attracting mates through their perfumes and such, but I'm not entirely sure. But she has to be the moth because the other female depiction is a wolf. And a wolf only makes sense with Mara because of her relation to love, since wolves often have life partners. That and she's called Shor's tear wife, and most nords will tell you nothing sounds more mournful than a wolf's howl at the moons at night. The whale being Tsun makes sense since he guards the whalebone bridge in Sovngarde. Could be his bones for all we know. The bear is Orkey, an enemy god like Alduin due to his connection with death. You heard the story of how he used Alduin's ghost to eat away the nord's years. So the bear makes sense since their cycle of hibernating and such is often compared to life and death. The owl is Jhunal for his relation to wisdom. He fell out of favor when nords started growing distrustful of magic. I miss anything Vigge? Who do you say is the fox?" "Stuhn," the old man replied. "Father of defeating enemies by cleverness. You know the old gods." He sounded surprised. "Of course I do." said Baldur, but he didn't sound offended. It was an uncommon thing for modern nords to remember the older gods. "A lot of people think that the Stormcloaks only fought for Talos. But a lot of us just want Skyrim to be Skyrim again. Do things on our own. Be nords. Part of that is knowing our history and not letting the imperials replace it with theirs. Talos is of course not of the old pantheon, but he is Ysmir, as is Wulfharth since they both shared that title. Those who have that title are blessed by Shor, and in a way they are Shor. I started learning of the old ways from some old traditionalists in Bruma who wanted to keep Bruma nordy. My father of course being who he was opposed it, and I naturally was pushed to it as I opposed almost everything he stood for. We never got along, as I'm sure you could've guessed from what I told you. After that and listening to the stories of the old gods, I grew admiration for my people, which was big for me when I heard so often that my people were just savages and barbarians from the Imperials of Cyrodiil. That's when I decided it was time to leave my father behind and return to where I was born." This got a grunt of acknowledgement from Vigge, which was a lot to get from him. They had reached the clearing where the family burial plot was. Vilnur took out a dead rabbit from his bag and put it in a sheltered niche in the cliff, then he handed the bag to Rebec and she scrambled up the rocky ledge to place another rabbit corpse and a candle. When she jumped back down, she said, "Meat for the owl and the hawk. The dragon and whale take care of themselves." She glanced over at the graves of Toki and Jala, but didn't say anything more. Vilnur put an arm around Suri's shoulder and said, as though explaining to her, "I always liked that we finished here, where some of our ancestors are buried. It reminds us that they're really still with us. In us." "Only some?" "Well, they moved around a little bit. And some had a pyre instead of a grave." He looked at his father as if he wanted to say more, but was unsure if he should. Vigge nodded. "Tell them. Pup will be needing some to take back to Solitude." Vilnur went on, "The line of Rebec the Red is special. Always has been. Mama is her direct descendant. Those in the direct line, when they die, they add their ashes to a special pitch that's used for our ships. My parents believe..." He paused. "We believe this protects them, and it allows our ancestors to sail with us." This appeared to be news to the admiral. She looked from Vilnur to her father, mouth agape. "So, Mama...?" Vigge nodded, and added in a stern tone, "Don't question it. The line has survived, hasn't it? And our ships have always been the strongest and fastest. Even if it's only a reminder of where you came from, it's important. You'll get some pitch from me before you leave. I'm giving you and your brother your inheritance now, too. Don't expect I'll be around much longer." "Papa!" At her protest, Vigge smiled and put an arm around her. "Come on, we're done here. You too, master bard. Got to get a fire built in the cellar for you two." "Aw, no more obstacles this time, pa? I was looking forward to the challenge." Baldur gave a grin, but was wary that Vigge didn't answer with a swing. "And don't you start talking like that. I need you around in the future. If I screw up, I'll need help tearing off my limbs." Vilnur laughed. "Pa gave you the warm family welcome, I see. You and Reb wouldn't be official without that. When are you two going to Solitude? If it's soon, I can give you a lift. I need a refit there, and then we'll be heading back to Sentinel." "Well, that depends on Rebec. I'm in no rush to leave and our main goal for this trip was to lay Toki to rest. Now that that is taken care of, where and when we go is up in the wind. I suppose we should eventually check in with Ulfric though. Lest the king's leniency be strained. What do you think, love?" said Baldur. "We can stay a few days, but we probably should get back before they decide our titles are just honorary," Rebec answered. She looked around at the little group walking back towards the house, her family and Baldur all together, and wondered how it could be any more perfect. Baldur walked back to where Rebec was in the group and put his arm around her shoulder as he whispered in her ear. "Well, now that your father basically gave me his blessing, I guess the game is over. I'm still into it though if you are." She laughed. "If it will get you in the mood, I can get Papa to lock you out of the house." "What's that?" Vigge turned to look, proving his perfect hearing again. "Nothing!" Baldur quietly grinned just barely audible enough for Vigge to hear. Baldur kissed Rebec on the cheek for a few seconds before saying, "Thank you for all this. This is much more family than I've ever been used to having." "For good or ill. But they're yours now, too." Rebec leaned over and kissed Baldur's cheek, then laughed when Vigge glared and shook his head. As Baldur and Rebec made their way back to the house, with how perfect things seemed to be, Baldur couldn't help but wonder when the gods would throw them a curveball. Although after the last one, Baldur thought perhaps this was their way of giving him his due. Whatever the case may be, Baldur once again took Toki's advice and held onto her that night as if it were the last chance he'd ever get. For in Skyrim, that was always a possibility. But he didn't let that get to him. He had another pa, another brother, and a niece. He also had the love of his life or as far as he was concerned, the world in his arms. And as long as that remained true, to Baldur and Rebec, nothing else mattered. 2 Days Later Baldur was the first to wake this time, as he had a bit of trouble sleeping, knowing that he and Rebec would have to depart to Solitude. More paperwork, more duties, more soldiering. He'd remember what he told Rebec back in Markarth, however and make time for the two. Even if Ulfric, or rather Galmar did act like he had a soul gem lodged up his ass over it. The thought made him laugh briefly, but he soon subsided. He wanted to stay a little longer to speak with Vigge. Even if the most he got was grunts at times, it was nice having a real father figure around again. One that didn't stay angry at him all the time. Baldur recalled once that Ulfric fancied himself that figure to him, and Baldur laughed at the thought and told him he needed to hurry up and get an heir. Baldur saw him as a good friend and King, but nothing more. If he could just stay one more day, maybe he could talk Vigge into taking him fishing, but Rebec and the others needed to leave. Baldur figured there'd be other opportunities. Unless what Vigge said about his time was true. Baldur was holding Rebec the way they had done from the first night they were there, arms and legs locked around one another. He sat there playing with her hair as she gently breathed on his neck with her warm breath, and he wanted nothing more than to stay that way all day, but if Rebec didn't object, Vigge sure would have eventually. So Baldur kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear, "Wake up, Reb. Time to go." Groaning, Rebec untangled herself and stretched. She'd been able to really sleep at her father's, as hadn't been possible in Markarth and on the road watching out for Forsworn. Only her father's clattering upstairs would get louder the longer they stayed in bed. The house was quieter today, however, since Vilnur and Suri had already gone to Dawnstar to get his ship ready to sail. "Morning." She kissed Baldur messily and then got up and started pulling on her woolens. "Good morning, Reb." Baldur smiled as he watched her dress after the kiss, then finally he got out of bed and washed his face with a bucket of water Vigge provided, cleaned and combed his hair and beard, then he started putting on his Nordic Carved armor once more. It had been the first time since he could remember that he hadn't worn some kind of armor, and even longer since he hadn't holstered a weapon. At first he felt naked, but now he felt strange being war clad once more. Baldur did some stretches to get the feel of it again and used his hands to tilt his neck side to side to crack it. While he did this, Baldur said, "So I assume we're to go off as soon as possible? You gonna be alright saying bye to Vigge?" "Sailors are used to farewells. Don't worry about him. He's been talking about his time being almost up since Mama died." Rebec was putting on her leathers, which had been cleaned and oiled but still badly needed to be replaced. "Alright, then. I'll meet you upstairs. I assume from the sound of the clanking upstairs he'll make us eat breakfast first. Should we meet Suri and Vilnur at the boat?" said Baldur. "Yes, they'll wait for us." Putting her hair up, Rebec turned. "You know, Baldur, you don't need to be ashamed of your ma. I told Papa that she was a Dibella priestess and he didn't bat an eyelash. He's grumpy about men being around me, but he's not a prude." Baldur stared at her blankly for a moment and then burst out with laughter. "I should've known after I told him about Ness. The man's a rock. I wasn't ashamed. After what she did for you I've grown to appreciate it somewhat. I just wasn't sure what he'd say to me bringing you around a temple of Dibella." "Oh, that," she said, laughing. "I didn't mention that part. He's seen a lot of things, you know. Been to more places in Tamriel than I have." Finished, she climbed up the stairs to the main room of the house, where Vigge was setting out plates of venison steaks and fried potatoes. When he saw Rebec, he said, "You kids don't have to go today. I'll take you in my little cutter tomorrow or next week." "Papa, I just told Baldur you were alright with goodbyes." Rebec leaned up to kiss his cheek. Patting her back, Vigge answered, "You weren't a soldier before. I don't like it." "I'll be fine. The war's over." "Don't worry, sir. I'll make sure your little horker pup comes back to you safe and sound." said Baldur just before diving into a piece of venison. "With plenty more stories to tell too." Vigge grumbled and sat down to his meal. After a few minutes silence he pointed his fork at them and said, "There was a poor girl who dreamed of marrying the Bard Prince, so one day she put on her best clothes and set out to find his castle. Along came the bear and when she asked him the way, he said, ‘It’s east of the sun and west of the moons.’ The bear seemed to know what he was talking about, so she asked everyone she met how to get there. No one knew, until she asked a bent-over hag. The old woman said that if the girl flew on her broom, then she might make it. So the girl got on the broom and it took her up, up into the sky. Above the clouds she saw it: The Bard Prince’s castle with its shining towers. Only when she got there, the shining castle turned into a gloomy dungeon. Later the hag came to her and revealed her true name. She was Jsashe, the witch of Whiterun, and she meant to harvest the girl’s soul to power her foul magic. The girl sat down and cried, and couldn’t go anywhere because the dungeon was in the clouds. Soon a hawk came, and then another, and the hawks each took a sleeve of her dress and lifted her up. Up and up they went and then the hawks dropped the girl onto the North Wind, who carried her safely home. The girl decided then and there that it was better to stay home and not run after bards. And not to trust the bear, either, who had started the whole mess with his trick, because everyone knows you can't get east of the sun and west of the moons. So you think about that." Rebec regarded her father skeptically. "That girl sounds pretty dumb." Baldur listened to the story, every detail while his eyes were closed. When Vigge finally ceased his speaking, Baldur started to laugh. "Are you sure about that Rebec? The girl in the story is you." Baldur didn't wait for her to say anything and carried on with his explanation, putting an arm over his chair and leaning back as he did. "I see what you did there, old man. You take details that we'd pick out and add two meanings to them to hide what you really meant. Like the bear. The bear is obviously Orkey, and you knew I would know that, so you used that to hide what you were really trying to say. The bear is also a symbol of the Stormcloaks. In the story, the girl is trying to find this fancy Bard castle, our destination with me and promises of the future, and she asks the bear, the Stormcloak being me, where it is. I tell her and she goes off to seek it. Or in other words, she leaves with me to the future and wherever we may go. When she gets there, or Rebec gets to our destination, whether that be our wild adventures or what have you, you're saying it may not turn out to be what Rebec expects, perhaps you think the danger could end up hurting her, or possibly I will, but the gods, like the hawk which is Kyne, would find a way to bring her back home. Something like that. The bards castle is of course a reference to me and the common misconception that bards exaggerate. Which is why when she gets there, its not what it seems to be. Maybe another reference to me? In other words, you're warning Rebec to be careful of whatever honeyed words I may say to whisk her off to gods know where, and in the end if she's ever in trouble or is unhappy, she can always come back here. It's also your way of asking her to stay and be careful that I don't turn out to be not what I seem. Oh, and don't let the Stormcloaks get her into more trouble of course, since the reason we're leaving is partly because of that. That somewhat it? Certain details like the magic broom and mage I assume are just details you added to spice things up, or throw me off. And don't get the wrong idea, I know you like me, even if you won't outwardly say it. But it's a father's duty to make sure their girl is safe and be wary of all possible threats." Vigge smirked as Baldur recited this explanation. "Clever one. You'll find out someday. You tell them and they never listen." "The story's supposed to be about Jsashe," Rebec explained. "He added the bear and turned the prince into a bard for your benefit. Papa, enough already. It's Baldur who gets me out of trouble, not the other way around." "I can believe that." The old sailor grinned at her sour look and reached over to pull on her ponytail. "Eat, little pup. I just don't see enough of you, that's all. The North Wind could do to bring you back here a little more often." "When we get our town fixed up, you can move out there and we'll see you all the time." "What's this about a town?" Vigge had finished eating, so he turned sideways in his seat and lit a cigarette. Baldur put down another piece of meat so he could speak. "Oh, it's something my brother and I decided we'd do. Get married to perfect women, have kids and start our own town. I got to the first goal first, he beat me to the second. So I told Rebec about it and she came up with the great idea to start one around a naval port. Skyrim could use another one, and I figure Ulfric will see the advantage of it. It will be up where that Thalmor prison was. We'll call it Kynes Watch or something. I think that's the name Reb picked. It will be used for sailors and Skyrim's navy, and the town will naturally grow around the port. Rebec can continue the family business from there. We figured you and my ma could come too." Vigge grunted and turned to look at Rebec. Nervously she asked, "What do you think, Papa? I know you're attached to this house..." "A house is just a house." That seemed to be all Vigge would say on the matter, but after a moment he said, "You set yourself up and then we'll talk. You got money now." He meant her inheritance, which had been much more than Rebec was expecting. She said, "Ulfric will pay for the garrison and to start the town. I'll use your money to..." "It's your money." "...my money to buy another ship, maybe two. Merchant ships. I'll run the business side." Rebec hesitated, pushing a potato around on her plate. "So that Baldur and I can have some kids. You know, if things work out." She glanced nervously at her husband. Baldur returned the look with a smile. "When things work out, love. When things work out. And eventually when I retire from soldier work, I'll work as a trainer. That or maybe Rebec could train me so I can help in the business under her. Maybe a bit of both. Either way, between that and kids, we'll all be rather busy. And you, you can tell the grandkids more of those stories, Vigge. Show 'em how to fish and of course help Rebec with the business too and give people sailor advice just like you do here. And we can all take the occasional voyage whenever we get the chance to." Vigge said nothing, only smoked thoughtfully. Rebec studied him a moment, then smiled and nodded at Baldur, letting him know that that was a positive response, though it would be hard to tell if you didn't know her father. Turning back to Vigge, she said, "We really should go, Papa. Vilnur will be waiting and I think he's anxious to get home. Are you going to come with us to Dawnstar?" The sailor shook his head. "No, you run along." He put out his cigarette on his plate and stood, reaching out to hug Rebec. They held the embrace for a long time, then Vigge kissed the top of her head and shooed her away. He reached a hand out to shake Baldur's. Baldur wasn't expecting a handshake, but he didn't hesitate to grab it. "Bye pa. I look forward to the next visit." Vigge gave him a spare smile and sat back down at the table, watching them as they gathered their things. Rebec was finding it harder to leave than she had before, maybe because Baldur had made her think more about her family. She lingered at the door, feeling like she ought to say something. Seeing her, Vigge shouted, "Out." She laughed and ran back to kiss her father on the forehead before hurrying after Baldur. Wiping a little tear from her eye, she grabbed Baldur's hand as they walked down the path. "You wait til we do give him grandkids. Then the 'bard prince' will be the best thing since mead was invented." "Ha, I'll believe it when I see it. If the kids are anything like us, they'll be a handful." Baldur dug into his pack for a bit to make sure he had everything with him. Hmm, lets see. Mead, check. Cheese, check. More mead, check. Comb, check. Ancient nord armor, check. Officer uniform, check. Bear helmet, check. Journal and the books I'm working on, check. Where's...ah there it is. The giant booze, check. And....ah yes. "Liquid thu'um". That ship captain gave us this. Mead so strong, it apparently will kick you on your ass like a thu'um in a bottle...What's this? Oh right, the pendant. It's been about...two days since I activated it. He should be here any minute now....Suddenly Baldur heard flaps of wings behind him and before he could turn his head around he felt a weight on his right shoulder and then peck on that side of his head and a deep voice in his ear. "Food." Then another peck. "Food." And it continued for every sentence he heard was came a peck right before it. "Give a starving raven some food. Good food. Roasted meat. Finely roasted. Sliced meat." "Ow! Ow! Hey, you can talk? Hey, Rebec, look what I got! It's a surprise I was h- ow!" Baldur waved the raven away from his shoulders to stop it's incessant pecking. "Stinking crow, hold on! Introduce yourself to Rebec first, or you won't get your surprise.....I'm talking to a bird.....what in the hell is going on..." The raven flew quickly in a circle and landed on Baldur's other shoulder and gave him one more peck before speaking into his ear and the raven sounded quite annoyed. "I prefer the term 'raven'. And I've flown a great distance without much to eat. So give the starving raven some food. Or I'll leave to find some myself." Baldur leaned in and whispered while he grinned, still amused that he was speaking to a raven, and wary that he wasn't going crazy. "I prefer crow, but fine. Although if you leave, where else are you going to find slow roasted seasoned rabbit leg marinated in Black-Briar mead? And I've got several of them right here in my pack that I saved from a party just waiting for some lucky raven to stuff down his throat...Mmm, that sounds good too. I may eat it myself...Unless you're nice enough to introduce yourself to my wife first. There's cheese too." This caused the raven to immediately turn around stuff his head into the pack on Baldur's back and throw stuff out on the ground in search of this roasted rabbit. Rebec hadn't much registered the fact that the bird was talking, only that he was attacking Baldur and now filching things from his pack. Her crossbow was already loaded. "Baldur, move out of the way, I can't get a clear shot. Gods-damned skeevers with wings." Baldur put both of his hands up and waved in protest. "What, no! Put your crossbow down! Karsh, would you get out of the pack? The food is way at the bottom under my armor anyway. I'll need a moment to get it, so while I am, introduce yourself to Rebec. If you can and I'm not hearing voices anyway." "You're talking to a bird," Rebec stated flatly, taking this for some kind of bard nonsense. She didn't lower the crossbow. Karsh looked up and back at Rebec, he then whispered into Baldur's ear. "I'm not talking to that ugly hag while she aims to kill me." "Ugly hag? Watch your tongue Karsh, or you really won't get any food. My Rebec is a flower. Now calm down and behave, then she'll put her crossbow down, okay? Rebec, put down your crossbow. When you do...just listen..." Baldur walked slowly to Rebec, putting a hand over her crossbow to tilt it down. "What in Oblivion is going on?" She lowered it, but didn't look happy about it. Meanwhile Karsh replied into his ear as Baldur walked. "She called me a skeever with wings. Besides she is ugly. Just look at that meaty and rounded head with only some fur on the top. No feathers to speak of. And the closest she has to a beak is that round meaty and grotesque 'nose' above her mouth. And don't get me started on the 'wings'." Baldur started to laugh at the comment as he scratched Karsh under his beak, although to anyone else it would look like he was laughing at nothing. "Hahaha, well I suppose it wasn't nice for her to say that. But she's put her crossbow down, so you can ask her to apologize. If she does, I want you to apologize as well. Then, you'll have a raven's equivalent of a feast. I'll make sure you eat well when you visit us. Is that a deal Karsh?" Rebec looked at Baldur sternly. "Get away from it, Baldur. What are you doing? There's no way it's talking to you, and if it is, then it's like something out of Pa's stories and you know that comes to no good end." Karsh whispered into his ear. "Apologize for what? She can't hear me when I'm talking to you. Boss made so I can only speak to one person at a time. It's to prevent eavesdropping. Anyway, we got a deal. Now get me that food!" Karsh then flapped the wings and made a quick jump over to Rebec's shoulder where he whispered into her ear. "I'm Karsh, the raven. Now tell your mate that I've introduced myself so he will give me that roasted rabbit." Rebec jerked away from the raven, batting at it. "You stay back, creature." To Baldur she said, "You were really talking to it? What is this? Karsh flew up and then flew in a small circle and landed on Baldur's shoulder again. "I've introduced myself now. She did not seem to care either way though. Now about that rabbit..." Baldur was ruffling through his pack as he saw her swipe at Karsh, and he sighed in frustration. "Remember that talk we had in the sauna? Well, this is partly what I was talking about. Karsh is Witchie's creation. He magically enhanced the cr-...raven, and uses it to send messages. He sent me a silver pendant that when put in fire, will get Karsh to come to you. I plan on using him to speak to Boldir. Don't worry, he's rude, but harmless. Mostly." Finally, Baldur found the four rabbit legs, and he held one up for Karsh to grab with his foot. When he did, the raven wasted no time diving in and eating the meat quite ravenously. Baldur also took some cheese wedges that he would share with the bird as well. "Witchie? One minute you're telling me he'll be the doom of us all, the next you're feeding his... creature. Thing. Whatever." said Rebec. "Doom of us all? Lets not exaggerate. I just think that it's foolish to...lets not say too much in front of the bird. In any rate, I have a weakness for crows. AND ravens." said Baldur before Karsh could object. "I also said that I had to be careful on how I utilize him, not that I wouldn't. I'd be stupid not to." Rebec sighed in exasperation and un-cocked her crossbow. "So this is going to be a regular thing. I don't know, Baldur." She looked at the bird with distaste. Baldur threw back his things in his pack and stood up. "What, you don't like ravens? Ravens are handsome birds, don't you think? Not to mention they make a good clean up crew. This one came from Rommulas. He seems to like you more if you feed him. Got anything in your pack?" "I'm not feeding that thing. Let's just go. Clean-up crew, my ass. You've obviously never had to scrub bird leavings off a ship deck." Rebec stowed her crossbow and turned to leave. Now, little more than the bone remained of the rabbit leg as Karsh gulped down the tore off the last meat to gulp down. He picked off a little more of the remaining meat and then threw the bone to the side before he whispered into Baldur's ear. "So much for her being a flower. And what is this about the boss dooming you all?" "She is a flower." said Baldur in a matter of fact manner. "She just doesn't like rude birds that go pecking her husband and ruffling through his stuff. In any case, Rebec was just vocalizing my comments of distrust of your master. Nothing he isn't already aware of. Now, here's the rest of the rabbit legs and here's some cheese. Once you've eaten, I'd like you to take this note." Baldur took out a rolled up parchment with a simple black ribbon around it and placed it on the ground along with the rest of Karsh's food. "I'd like you to give this to my friend, Boldir. He's a big nord like me but a bit bigger with long black hair and a black beard. Wears armor just like mine, but he doesn't wear a cape. You may see him wearing a mean looking dark grey steel helmet as well. He's the guard captain in Whiterun, so he'll be there. If not, he'll be in Riften. Try and be patient with him. He doesn't know about the food arrangement and is likely to head butt you into Oblivion if you try pecking him. Oh, and ask Witchie if he can give him an amulet as well. Got all that?" "I want to sleep after I've finished eating. So you don't mind if I eat while sitting inside your pack and then take a nap there? Otherwise the parchment might go missing while I take the nap." Baldur knew Rebec wouldn't like it, but Baldur had a soft spot for the bird and couldn't help but agree. "Oh...alright, fine. But be on your best behavior please. You already got me in enough trouble. Here." Baldur collected the food and the note and placed it back in his pack, leaving the bag open for Karsh to hop in. "Good, now don't walk too roughly. By the way, I didn't say anything rude to her, I could barely say anything to her. Your mate seems to have a problem with me just being me." Then Karsh flew up to the bag's opening with two flaps, where he started eating to his hearts content. Sometimes he would look up and gaze around before continuing his feast. Don't walk roughly? This bird...Witchie needs to teach him some manners....Baldur ignored the comment and decided to let it slide. Now that the matter was taken care of, sort of, Baldur moved to catch up with Rebec and walk by her side. "You're not mad at me are you?" Rebec eyed the bird's head sticking out of Baldur's pack. "I just don't know how you can take such things so calmly. It's not natural, Baldur. And now that bird's going to be spying on us." "Well in all fairness, I had like a two day warning ahead of time, saw the bird before and I've been to Sovngarde twice. And what about you and the Ness business, eh? Now you know how I felt." Baldur put his arm around Rebec and tried to calm her with a kiss on her cheek. "As far as spying goes, he won't be around us all the time. You may even grow to like him. You gotta be nice though. And anyway, what is natural? Not magic? Magic is all around us. It's a part of us. Your axe is magic, your pendant, my axes, my cape. The sun is even magic." "Birds talking like they're humans isn't natural," she answered. "If you want a pet, fine. Just keep him away from me." Baldur was about to say something, but he let it go and sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll tell him to leave you alone. He seems to prefer that anyway. You're as stubborn as...no you're more stubborn then Vigge. I see now where you get that thing from. Where you'd rather let certain things go unspoken. You gonna stay mad at me the whole walk to Dawnstar? This is like Marius all over again." "That's a sore subject, too, you want to bring it up again?" She cracked a grin, but it vanished when she glanced at his pack and saw a beak sticking out. Shaking her head, Rebec walked on until she could see the harbor up ahead. Shading her eyes, she pointed. "Northern Lights is already out to sea. They'll be waiting for us with the dinghy. Since we don't have our supper anymore, maybe we ought to offer Vilnur crow pie for dinner." With a wry glance backward, she ran ahead to find her niece waiting with the small boat. Suri lifted a hand in greeting. When Baldur caught up, he waved back to Suri and said, "Hey, niece. How are you?" "Hello, Uncle! You took your time," Suri answered cheerily. "I'll be your ferry this morning. Aunt Rebec, have you got rocks in there?" "Gifts from the party." Rebec distributed her packs in the boat. "You want me to row?" "No, you sit back and relax. I don't sail much, but I can handle a dinghy." "Good girl." Baldur did the same, making sure to put a flap over his pack for the time being and put Karsh in the back away from them as he sat next to Rebec. "Well, this will be my first boat ride ever. Ready to see how your ship is coming along, love?" Baldur stuck out his hand for her to grab, still nervous about Rebec's mood over the bird. He hoped the topic of her new ship would make her cheery again. The prospect of being out at sea did make her happy, almost to the point of forgetting the bird. "You've never been on a boat at all? Gods, Baldur. Popping your cherry, are we." At Suri's disapproving look, the admiral laughed. "My niece thinks I'm vulgar. How do you like that? And after I taught her all the swear words she knows, in Yoku and Tamrielic." "Oh? Somehow I'm not surprised. Miss frost my sweetroll." said Baldur, laughing heartily afterwards. Suri's brow knit as she rowed. "What does that mean?" "Never you mind." Rebec apparently hadn't taught her that one. "Your father hasn't turned you into a sailor yet?" "I just don't want to do that, Aunt Rebec. I want to be a swordsman." "You can do both." "Not for the kind of proficiency I want to achieve." Rebec glanced at Baldur and shrugged. Baldur gave a grin as she looked at him, then chuckled. It would seem that going your own way ran in their family. Even Baldur had that characteristic, he realized, remembering the big argument he and his father had when he left that almost came to crossing blades. Even now, he and Rebec were off adventuring, on their way to Hammerfell mainly just to go out and see the sights. The politics involved was just an excuse. No matter the reason, Baldur was simply glad to not have to go his own way alone. Next stop, Solitude. Again, heh. Hopefully we're not bored out of our minds in this place again.

Baldur, Rebec outside Dawnstar afternoon In the town of Dawnstar, Baldur and Rebec parted company with Mazoga and their Stormcloak escort and headed out of town a ways, along a trail that led along some bluffs overlooking the coast, then turned inland and up towards a wooded hill. From the top of the slope, a line of smoke rose, indication of a house there. The path was marked by a few whale bones jutting up from the ground. The couple emerged into a snowy clearing, and Rebec stopped, shading her eyes. "Oh, for the love of Kyne." The house was a rather large, tidy, two-story steading in chalet style, flanked by several outbuildings. Crossing from the front door of the house to a shed was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a mane of grey hair and long, grey beard braided into twists. He was naked except for a loincloth. The man stopped when he caught sight of the pair, and shaded his eyes as well, looking back. Then he raised his hand, before calmly proceeding on with his errand. Rebec turned to Baldur, sighing. "My papa in all his glory." Baldur tried holding back a laugh and ended up muffling it slightly, but not completely. He figured laughing at Rebec's pa wouldn't be the best first impression. "Well, can't say I expected anything less from the man who is your father." "What's that supposed to mean?" Rebec pretended to be offended, but grinned and gestured with her head for them to continue. Just then a large wolf-looking creature bounded around the house and made straight at them on a charge. Rebec threw her hands up. "Easy there, girl." The dog stopped a few feet away, bared its fangs and growled. A whistle sounded from behind the house, and the dog first pricked its ears, then turned to look in that direction, and finally took back off the way it had come. By the time they got to the door, Rebec's father was coming back with a basket of eggs in his hands. "Papa, it's freezing out, where are your clothes?" Vigge grumbled something, looked once at Baldur suspiciously, and went into the house, shaking the snow off his feet as he went. Rebec shrugged and gestured for Baldur to follow. Inside, there was a hallway lined with several pairs of boots, with snowshoes propped up on the wall, and a rack for axes, swords and shields. Fur coats and slickers hung on pegs on the wall. Vigge apparently thought all of that was unnecessary for a quick trip to the henhouse. The interior was toasty warm from a central firepit and a cooking hearth against one wall. Two lofts with beds overhung the main room, which had a large oak dining table, and benches along the walls. Above the dining table was a portrait of a handsome older woman in white fur garb with fiery red hair. Off to the left was a study piled high with maps and nautical memorabilia, and to the right a small bedroom where Vigge was currently dressing himself. By the time they got their own wraps and boots off, he emerged wearing wool drawstring pants, a tunic and fur slippers. The large, imposing man made straight for Rebec and lifted her off the floor in a bear hug. "My little horker pup, look at you," he muttered in an impossibly deep, gravelly voice. He set her down again and kissed the top of her head, which fit just under his chin. She was laughing, and when he released her, turned to point to Baldur. "Papa, this is Baldur. Baldur, this is my father, Vigge Tsun-biter, or just Vigge the Elder to many. Papa, Vilnur wrote to you that we were coming, right?" Vigge made a noncommittal grunt and scowled at Baldur before gesturing for them both to come in. "You'll want some food. Sit down." It was an order, not a request. Baldur took his time and took in the scene of the house. The warm fire, the dining room table and such. The picture of what Baldur assumed was Rebec's mother. All of it had a feeling to it that he couldn't put his finger on, but it felt safe. Comfortable. A home. I didn't have this feeling since Bruma, and even then it didn't feel quite like this. Heh, even if Rebec's pa is about as warm as mine was. That'll change. Baldur led Rebec in by her hand to the dining room table and awaited her father. Baldur took off his general cape and placed it over his chair. He wasn't exactly sure what to say and felt a bit out of place, but he figured the initial awkwardness was inevitable. Despite that, Baldur figured he'd try and say something. "So, how'd you get a name like Tsun-Biter?" Baldur decided to keep the fact that he saw Tsun to himself, but the image of the old man trying to bite that huge monstrosity was blazing in his head, torturing him as he held back another laugh. Vigge was clattering pans and bowls at a sideboard, and pretended not to hear Baldur's question. Watching him, Rebec turned back to her husband and answered the question for him. "He was a whaler in his younger years. Tsun's animal is the whale, and I guess he probably thought that sounded tougher." She leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry, he's not like Rivka. He just has to give you the once-over." "What's that?" Vigge's hearing was perfect when he wanted it to be. "Nothing, Papa. Did you see Vilnur and Suri?" A mumble came back that sounded like "tomorrow." Giving up on conversation with him, Rebec shook her head, then gestured at the painting. "That's Mama. Jytta Sea-Sword. She got that name for her racing boats, because they cut through the water like a sword through butter. Died a few years before the war. Do you think Ysana will move up north when we make our town?" Baldur spoke at a low tone, not wanting his mother's old profession to come up with his new father-in-law. "Almost surely. She was practically begging me to bring her with us last time. She'll jump at the chance to come live with us. I'll see about getting her own house though. All those years going without, I'm sure she'll...be catching up." Baldur turned his head back to Vigge. "Glad to see my wife's family remembers the old gods unlike a lot of nords these days." Nothing more was forthcoming from Vigge except muttering and the sizzle of frying. Rebec ignored him right back, saying, "Do you think so? Well, if we have a naval garrison, they'll love that." She laughed, and since they were waiting for supper anyway, got up to get some mead from a bucket in the corner. "Black-Briar juniper, general sir," she said, cracking open two bottles for them. A few minutes later, Vigge came shuffling over to the table and put down plates of eggs studded with onions, tomato, and smoked fish, along with a basket of bread. Rebec got up to get him a mead, as well. The old sailor smiled at her, patting her on the hip as she passed. Then he turned his eyes on Baldur and the smile vanished. "So who are you? Who's your father?" "Papa, I told you..." "Hush, girl." Vigge turned back to pin Baldur to the wall with piercing blue eyes under thick white eyebrows. Baldur smiled before drinking some of the mead, thanking Rebec before doing so. "Ah, my favorite. Black-Briar with Juniper berries. Oh, right my father. My father's name was Ulrin Red-Snow. He was a legionnaire Captain. Ran his own fort and everything." Baldur saw the scowl from Vigge aimed to him and couldn't help but smile a little. He could tell how protective he was of Rebec, and couldn't help but think that they both had that in common. "Never heard of him." "Papa, you know who Baldur is. He's General in the Stormcloak army. I wrote you about the war in Falkreath. That's where we got married." "What happened to what's-his-name..." Rebec sighed. "Toki. He's dead. I wrote you about that, too." The old man's bushy eyebrows lifted, then he turned attention on his food, muttering, "Good riddance." "Papa!" Vigge half-grinned and shrugged. He gestured for Baldur to eat, and did so himself. After stuffing down a few bites of egg, he said, as if just registering it, "Legion. Can't be happy about that cloak you're wearing." Baldur grabbed some egg with his heavy gauntleted fingers and smelled the food, letting the aroma help him taste the food before he actually ate it. Baldur once again found himself getting defensive over Rebec's ex husband and chuckled to himself at the absurdity of it. Baldur knew Vigge's game and decided to play along, even though the reality of his parent's situation pained him. What he did to his father didn't make him proud, at least not anymore after meeting Ysana, but this was Vigge's game and he intended to play it for better or worse. Still smiling, Baldur said, "He sure wasn't. Specially since it lead to me killing him." Vigge nearly choked on his bite of egg. Lowering his fork, he sat back in his chair and turned his eyes on Rebec. She sighed and moved her food furiously around on her plate. After a tense silence, she said, "It was in the war, Papa. They were on opposite sides. Will you leave him alone? Baldur's a war hero. He's a good man. You know I'm admiral now, don't you? That was his doing." The sailor had no answer for that, but as he returned to his food, he kept a hawk gaze on Baldur. "War hero, eh," he said finally. "What'd you do?" Baldur couldn't help but laugh from Vigge's reaction to what he said about his father, and was still smiling as he ate and spoke. "It's fine, Rebec. I don't mind your father's questions. I killed some Imperials and elves. Kept them from coming in Skyrim. Nothing we need to delve into unless you really want to. Your daughter helped also a great deal with the sea side of the war. She's known as 'Rebec the Hull-Breaker' as well as Rebec Red-Snow." "I heard." That topic seemed to loosen the old man up. His skin was leathery, with deep creases from the sun and wind, so if he flushed with pride it was impossible to tell, but his eyes took on a sparkle as he reached over to muss Rebec's hair. "My girl did good. Real good." She smiled and reached for her mead. As she took a swig, it was apparent that she was drinking to keep tears from appearing. From what she had told Baldur of her past, it obviously meant a great deal to her to hear her father speak proudly of her accomplishments. She glanced at Baldur with a look that said "thank you." Turning back to Vigge, she said, "You know, you shouldn't speak ill of the dead, either, Papa. We've got Toki's bones to bury on the hill. He had his own part in the wars." She told Vigge about Markarth, minus the dangerous parts. The old man listened silently. "And we met Baldur's ma. She's a real nice lady and fixed me up with a pretty town dress." By that time, Vigge had finished eating and took out a handkerchief to noisily blow his nose. He followed that up with a loud burp, then sat back with mead bottle in hand. "Red-Snow, Red-Snow," he said, as if trying to remember. "Helgen?" Baldur had placed his hand on Rebec's knee briefly to say "don't mention it", at Rebec's look of gratitude to him. When Vigge mentioned Helgen, Baldur's eyebrow shot up, as not too many people mentioned it to him. "Yea, I was at Helgen. That's where they started calling me "Unkindled". Where'd you hear about that from?" Vigge lifted his brows as if to say "you'd be surprised what I know." He gestured with the bottle, asking, "Those elves. The Thalmor. They gone?" Under the table, Rebec moved her leg under Baldur's hand suggestively. Her expression remained placid, as though she was just innocently following the conversation. Baldur fought back his smile from Rebec's playing as he answered before taking another drink of mead. "They're gone for now, yes. Although if the war against them isn't won, they'll be back in force. But their main crutch was the compliance of the Empire which as you know grew to dramatic levels when Motierre took power. Now he's been replaced with his daughter who hates the elves, a court mage at her side that hates them even more, and the Legion finally found their stones. With a little help. You ask me, as far as Skyrim's borders go, they're gone for good. But their influence through spies and such likely will never be completely gone. If at all." Baldur mischievously rubbed at Rebec's lower thigh under the table as he nonchalantly took another drink. Caught by her own game, Rebec bit her lip and her cheeks colored. Glancing quickly at her father, she said, "And you know the imps' blockade is gone. You should've seen 'em, Papa. After a few months they came off those ships raving and begging us to capture them." Vigge nodded gravely. "The ghosts." Half agreeing and half explaining to Baldur, she said, "We fought them for ages, and now we've learned to respect them and they us, if we don't test them. Every once in a while they take a ship..." "It's their due," Vigge intoned. "But we saw in this blockade that we're better off that way. Oh! We almost forgot to tell you the best part. Baldur, tell him about the giants." She moved her foot closer to Baldur and brushed his leg with it. Now it was Baldur's turn to blush as he felt the tickle of Rebec's soft feet on his leg hairs, and this time he did let out a smile. "Uh, boy this is some good mead eh?" said Baldur to cover himself. "Oh right, the giants. I don't know if you'll believe it or not...probably not, but I swear on Shor's stones this is all true. Me and Rebec made a friend with one of those things. "The fathers." We came back from Falkreath with my brother Boldir and we saw a gang of giants warring with the retreating Thalmor, and naturally your daughter says "Lets go closer and help!" So naturally I followed to keep her from visiting Secunda. Anyway, we helped one of them out, and your crazy daughter decides it would be best to try and get them to move on with a painted cow. Crazy night that. Anyway, it actually worked and the giants left. All but one that I named NeskonungR, or Ness for short. If you thought that was crazy...On our way here, the damn thing followed us. He gave us this crazy booze that makes you hallucinate as trade for the cow." Baldur wasn't sure how Rebec's pa would take any of this but he thought it would make for good conversation. "Oh, also Rebec, I overheard a bounty hunter talking to the Inn keeper in Morthal. He was apparently nearby. Jarl placed a bounty on his head real quick." "What?" Rebec turned in alarm, a piece of bread half raised to her mouth. "We have to stop them!" "Uh, no. No we don't. It was just one guy in steel plated armor. He doesn't stand a chance, which is why I didn't mention it sooner. Besides, our friend is a wanderer. He'll be out of the Jarl's hair in no time." And right in the Jarl of Dawnstar's if he's doing what I think he's doing. "Vigge, please talk some sense into your daughter. She's absolutely infatuated with the thing." Rebec didn't look very relieved. In fact, she appeared about ready to get her axes. Her father, meanwhile, had followed this story with a blank expression. At first he didn't reply. When he did, it was in a meditative voice. "A rich farmer who lived at the base of the mountains liked to boast about what he had, and show off his nice clothes and the things his father took from the elves. The clans had united under a powerful king who'd driven the elves out of Skyrim, and when the thanes came back from war, their sons soon forgot what it was like. There was no one left to fight. The rich farmer had only child, a beautiful daughter named Fryka. One day a pack of giants came down out of the mountains and took off his fat cows and his fluffy sheep. A week later, they came back and took off his horse and his dogs. The next week, the farmer tried to fight the giants, but they just took his sword and shield right out of his hands, and stole his pretty gems and elven trinkets, too. The farmer thought they had taken all they could from him, but when the giants came back, the leader said he wanted to take his daughter and make her his wife. The farmer cried and begged and said he had a hidden chest of gold, and if he gave them gold, would they leave his daughter alone. The giants waited until he dug up the gold, they took that, and then they took Fryka with them, too. Now the farmer was in despair. He thought he might lay down and die. But as he was lying in his bed, suddenly he got angry. He got so angry that he went to the nearest village and told the men about what the giants had done. Turned out they had been stealing from others, too, and no one could stop them. There was a lot of arguing, but the farmer and a few of the other men agreed to go fight the giants. There were no weapons left in the village because the giants had taken them all, so they took their shovels and spades and hay forks and went up the mountain. Many of the Nords died, but they managed to kill all the giants. As the leader of the giants lay dying, he said to the farmer, 'We stole from you, but we gave you back something much greater: Your courage. Take your daughter back, because now you are worthy of her and the son she will bear.' Fryka was pregnant with the giant's child, you see, and he became a mighty warrior, which was good because by then the elves were back." After he finished this narration, Vigge nodded once. "You think about that." With that, he got up and shuffled over to the hall and began putting on his boots. "Where are you going, Papa?" asked Rebec. "Fishing." He took a slicker and grabbed a pole and bucket, and left without another word. Rebec turned back to Baldur. "He's always like that. Don't mind him." Baldur was still staring at the spot Vigge was sitting at, thinking on him and the story. This man just took our absurd story and listened to the entire thing with a straight face. Then he goes off on a narration of a story on giants, and I have no idea what it's supposed to mean. I like this man. "Your father is an odd one. What do you think he meant by that exactly? Go help Ness? Heh, or is Ness coming to take all his stuff and you along with it? I'd fight a giant for that." "Don't think too hard about it," Rebec replied with a roll of her eyes. She got up and started clearing dishes, and put some hot water on to boil for the washing up. "We mentioned giants and he just went off on one of his stories. You'll get used to it." As she clattered around she added, "And ten septims says that as soon as he heard I got married again, he asked every sailor that came through about you. That's how he knew about Helgen. I guess he didn't know about your parents, though." Baldur didn't want to accept that the old man didn't have some meaning behind the story, but he let it go for now, switching his mind back to Rebec and her playing. "That went a lot better than I thought it would have. What were you trying to do there though, have your father mount my head?" said Baldur with a grin as he stood up and grabbed the mead bottle Rebec was drinking from. "I can't help myself." She gave him a mischievous grin. "Papa likes you, by the way. I know it doesn't seem so, but he does. If we get through this visit without him challenging you to a brawl, it will be a big success." "You ask me, that'll be the highlight of this trip. So are we staying in here for a while?" asked Baldur as he drank the last of the mead bottle's contents and placed the empty bottle on the counter. "How long does he take to fish? I was enjoying our chat." "He likes to be on his own. It's a good thing, since he mostly is. You'll see plenty of him, don't worry. When we're done, I'd like to... You know. Toki. Get it over with. The family plot is behind the house up a little hill. There's some loose rock up there we can use." She scrubbed quietly a few minutes, then said, "I want to thank you for everything, Baldur. I've been on my own a lot, too, but all this, I couldn't imagine what it'd be like if you weren't with me." Baldur walked up to her now and planted a kiss on her cheek while he hugged her from behind, placing his arms around her waist. "You keep thanking me so much and you're gonna make it impossible to yell at me when I screw up somehow. What have I really done but what a husband is supposed to do? Think nothing of it. Thank you for simply allowing me to be a part of this. And you." She smiled, her expression soft. "It's strange, having you here in the house where I grew up. I like it. It's like you were always here." Closing his eyes while his chin rested on her shoulders, Baldur said, "It has a strange feel to it. It feels more like home than my own home in Bruma did. All these years moving from place to place. This feeling is nice. Welcome. Even with your pa, which I can tell your pa liked me more then he let on. For one he left me here alone with you without saying anything. That's something. Didn't you say Suri and her father was supposed to come here as well?" "I think he said they'd be here tomorrow." She turned her face, nuzzled Baldur's cheek and kissed him. She wanted to stay there in the warm house and not do what they had to do, but Toki deserved to be in a resting place, as well. "Come on, let's do this." Rebec put her boots back on and slung a shawl over her shoulders. She let Baldur carry the bones, and took a lantern and candles from a storage closet. The sun was setting as they walked up a steep forest path to another little clearing above the house. There, small cairns dotted a grassy hillside with snowberries and mountain flowers growing in between. Rebec led him to a small grave at the end of the row. "This is Jala's," she whispered. She didn't look at it very long, however. "Will you lay his bones out?" I'll start bringing rock." There was a pile of loose stone nearby, and some already in a handcart. Baldur took a while to look from the little grave. Such a sight wasn't right, thought Baldur. It was a damn shame that anyone ever had to make such a grave, and Baldur grew sorrowful once more at the thought of Rebec ever having to dig up such a grave herself. The image threatened to make him tear up, but he didn't. Now was a time to be strong. Or at least appear to be for Rebec's sake. Finally Baldur did as Rebec had requested, but laying out Toki's bones was a lot stranger than the last time he handled them, knowing now what he looked like. Laying out the dead father with the dead child was equally as, for what Baldur lacked a better term for at the moment, fucked up. But it was what it was. Baldur stayed silent, wondering if her father really meant what he said about Toki when he said "good riddance" and wondered if he was still stuck thinking the way he did and thought these things were all Toki's fault. He felt bad, but to be honest, he would be relieved that this business was over. Even with the past experiences concerning him, Baldur was growing more and more tired of hearing about Rebec's last husband, although he wouldn't admit that to himself or anyone. But he knew it regardless. He may not ever be out of mention completely, but that isn't what Baldur wanted anyway. Or at least that's what he told himself. Rebec came back to the extremely somber sight of her current husband laying out the bones of her former. As she began placing rocks around and over the bones, she said, "It's horrible that you have to do this for the people you love. Hard enough with some stranger. But it's also right. My mama had a pyre, since that's how her family always did it. Papa cried his eyes out that day, putting flame to her body." She stopped short of picturing herself here, and Baldur laying her to rest. When they were done, she stood to her feet and walked to Baldur's side, looking down at the rocks. "I keep thinking maybe you saw him in Sovngarde because he's never been at rest these past years. I hope this helps him, somehow." She then set out a candle on the grave and lit it with her flint lighter, and did the same at the baby's grave. As she was about to turn, there was a sound of footsteps behind them, and Vigge came up the path. He removed his hood and glanced at them. "I'll pay my respects. You go home now, Rebec, you'll freeze." She nodded at her father and looked at Baldur. "Come on." As they were about to leave the clearing, she glanced back. Her father was standing silently, looking down at the two graves. When they were a distance away, she said under her breath, "He cried his eyes out over Jala, too. He doesn't want you to see, in case he does it again." Baldur didn't yet wish to leave, as he had some things he wanted to say to the two. But he wasn't really sure what. What could he say to the daughter he wished was his and the husband who he was replacing? He remembered Toki's words and what he said about Rebec's happiness, but in the end if he could come back and take Baldur's place he knew he would. Not that Rebec would agree to let him do so, but the thought made him feel guilty due to his natural jealousy. It didn't bother him enough to dislike Toki, but he wasn't as sad for him as he should have been. He did feel some sorrow for Toki but it was more for the baby and Rebec in relation to him than Toki himself. For that reason, Baldur felt it would have been better if he hadn't come and stayed in the house. Only those who truly feel sorrow for the dead should visit their resting place. And then there was the girl. Again his sorrow was more for Rebec than even the girl, he realized. He again of course hurt for the little child as anyone would, but how could he claim to hurt for the girl as if it was his own when he never even knew her? He could not. It was just another lie he tried to tell himself to force a connection with Rebec. He had used Boldir as an example, but Boldir had a chance to grow a relationship with Mila. Baldur would never get that chance with Jala. He couldn't stand it before that there was a connection with a child and Rebec that he could not share in. He was over it now, but again he just felt like he hadn't belonged there. Until he looked at Rebec and saw that she was pulling through regardless of how depressing the nature of their business was. Remembering her words earlier when she said she couldn't imagine doing this without him, he remembered that his job was to stand by Rebec and give her strength through this ordeal, just as she did when he visited his mother. She didn't feel like she belonged at first either, but his thought was she did because he wanted her at his side. That was enough then and he figured it would be here too. Baldur realized he stayed silent a bit too long after Rebec had spoken, then said, "It's a good thing he doesn't know about all the soul bearing we went through lately. I have a feeling he'd feel much better about me seeing if he did." "Better he not know that," she answered. "You see how he is. Very protective of me. He blames himself for everything that happens to me, same as you do. That's why I didn't tell him half the stuff that went on in Falkreath. He might end up resenting you for being the reason I went down there." They had reached the house by then. The warmth was welcome, though the fires needed stoking. While Rebec did that, she smiled and said, "Think we'll ever have a place like this? This house is old. It's been passed down through the years." "Hmm...." Baldur started walking around the place, with a kid like smile on his face, picturing their home as he did. "We may. We could even model the place after this if you want. We'll need more beds for the rascals though. We can have a painting of you and me up on the wall, a model of your ship at the center of the dinning room table, I'll set up a training area in the back, get a husky like the one here...yea. It won't feel the same, not at first, but throw some kids in the picture, and it could. It likely won't ever feel quite the same. Not unless your father comes to live in our town as well. Can you picture that? You, me, Boldir, Carlotta, Mila, little Baldurs and Rebecs running around, tormenting my mom and your dad? It would be...perfect. And it will be right by the sea just like Dawnstar. I imagine Suri will be out adventuring however." "Just how many kids are you picturing we'll have?" Rebec laughed, though she also sounded nervous. Baldur made an uh oh face when he realized he let that little detail in his personal fantasy slip. "I uh...ah let's not worry about that right now. Let's focus on the one first. You thought about if you wanted a boy or a girl first?" Rebec was kneeling by the fire and didn't answer a moment. She was remembering the sight of Baldur holding Mila as they prepared to leave Whiterun. It gutted her, but Baldur didn't deserve to have his hopes mixed up with her memories of Jala all the time. "It doesn't matter to me," she answered, forcing her tone to be light. "You ought to be a papa, that's all. We'll love them just the same, boy or girl." She put the poker down and stood up, coming around to him. "Little Baldur or Baldura... Baldra... Whatever. Maybe I'll leave the naming to you." Laughing, she slung an arm around his waist. Baldur put his hands on the side of her head and kissed her on her brow before wrapping his hands around her. "Perhaps that's best, heh. Boldir would have our heads if we named the child Baldura. As would our parents for that matter. If we had a daughter, we could name her after your mother, or maybe something with an R, like you. Like...Ragna. Ragna Red-Snow. You like that? Or maybe Arnora? Means eagle." "I like Ragna." She smiled and slid her hands along his back. "You don't need to wear that armor here, you know. We can get you some of Papa's clothes tomorrow. Get you more comfortable..." As she was moving closer, the door opened with a burst of wind and snow. Vigge stood and scowled at them a moment, then stamped his boots before crossing to the kitchen area and laying out two slabs of frozen meat with a crash. Rebec had released Baldur quickly. "Papa, there's enough meat there to feed the whole Stormcloak army." The sailor grumbled something and went back to the hall, stripping off his cloak and removing his boots. When he came back he gestured at the corner where a chute went into the cellar. "The boy can sleep down there. You take a loft, pup." Her head tilted. "Papa. The cellar? You can't..." His look said that Vigge very much could, and would. He grabbed a bucket of water and walked over to the cellar chute, gesturing for Baldur to follow. Baldur stood where he was, and looked to Rebec in protest. Rebec looked from Vigge back to her husband and shook her head. "Just go along with it," she whispered. "I'll be down later." Baldur opened his mouth as to say something but thought against it and reluctantly followed Vigge. I'll have the last laugh, old man. Vigge walked through the cellar, switching on lamps and going to the brazier to start a fire there. It was a well-made cellar, not the dank kind, though it was cold. Bales of straw and crates sat against the wall, and hams, herbs and garlic braids hung from the rafters. It must have been used for guests before, since the bed in the corner was made up and stacked with furs. When the fire in the brazier was lit, Vigge turned back to Baldur. For a moment he loomed there, half a head taller than the younger man. "You hurt my daughter, and I'll tear the limbs from your body with my bare hands." He stated it as a fact, with no emotion in it, just laying things on the line. Baldur gave the man a friendly genuine smile. "Not if I beat you to it." He resented the fact greatly that he was to be stuck in the cellar, but nothing was going to keep him from Rebec tonight, not even her old man. If she couldn't sneak down, he was going up. Baldur looked to the bed and wondered who else got the cellar treatment. "This where you stuffed Toki when he was here?" "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." Vigge pushed past Baldur, obviously not interested in whether he was happy about the arrangement or not. "Good night." He climbed up the steps to the main hall, and paused at the top as if considering slamming the door shut and maybe locking it for good measure, too. However he left it open and continued on. Afterwards Baldur sighed heavily and stripped off his armor and put on his night trousers to rest. But he didn't close his eyes. He simply laid on the bed facing the wall. Plotting. Waiting. There was the sound of Rebec arguing with him a bit, then that died down and they talked in murmuring voices for a while. The light from the fires upstairs died down, and Vigge's voice couldn't be heard anymore. Rebec poked her head down the cellar door. "Baldur, you okay?" Baldur quickly turned around towards her and smiled in relief, but before he could answer, Vigge called to Rebec from his room. She cursed, and her head disappeared again. Baldur cursed and rolled back into bed, throwing a pillow at the wall as he did. The house was quiet for a while. When Rebec thought the coast was clear, she started to climb back down, going softly as not to wake her father up. Halfway across the floor, a board creaked and Vigge growled her name. More cursing, and more murmured voices. This happened twice more, then the house was quiet again. After some time, Baldur heard a rattling from the corner of the cellar that could be skeevers. A moment later, a latch in the floor creaked open and Rebec stuck her head up. "Baldur, it's me," she whispered. Climbing up into the cellar, she let the latch fall quietly closed, then stood and brushed the cobwebs off herself. She was wearing woolens and had snowflakes on her hair. Laughing quietly, she got under the furs and slid closer to him. "He forgot about the root cellar." Baldur pulled her to him and rested his head next to hers as he looked into her eyes, smiling mischievously. "You took any longer and I was going to have that brawl after all. I still may if he wakes up, but if it happens, it happens. Even one night without you is too much." She giggled, clearly amused by the game now that she'd won it. "Oh, wait!" Scrambling back out of bed, Rebec went to the ladder leading up into the main hall, climbed it, and stealthily pulled the latch shut. Then she ran back to the bed and slid under the furs."Now we're golden." Teasing her fingers through Baldur's hair, she kissed him a while, then stopped. "You're not mad, are you?" Baldur's heart was racing from her touch and he was still kissing at her while he spoke. He had a confused look on his face, but went back to kissing at her while he said, "Mad about what?" "About Papa. The cellar..." Her voice trailed off as she began to forget what she was talking about. Baldur started to grin as he moved his way down to her neck and released a low grunt, almost like a growl into her skin. Kissing his way up to her ear, he said, "Would you believe that I actually prefer it? Something about this...I like it. Makes it dangerous. More exciting, don't you think?" Rebec laughed, keeping her voice hushed. "So he was doing us a favor?" She then took off her shirt and breast coverings, and decided to forget about her father then, though as they moved the bed was creaking rather loudly, which was probably also part of Vigge's plan. Sneaking out to get to him and then having to touch each other in quiet, surreptitious movements was like the game they'd played at the table, and it did make her head spin with excitement. Baldur too was reminded of the game at the table, and another mischievous idea came into his head. Baldur put his finger over his mouth and said "Shhh. You may want to cover your mouth." Baldur gave her a wink and slowly lowered his head under the covers, and started pulling at Rebec's trousers as he did. "Baldur..." she whispered, both a warning and in anticipation. She knew what he was going to do, and closed her eyes, biting her lip to keep from crying out. Baldur heard her warning, and ignored it. The thought of Vigge suddenly bursting into the room made him nervous but more from excitement than anything. Baldur went easy at first, but then he decided to make it difficult for her to remain silent and he put his hand to work as well. Baldur was chuckling slightly as he felt her tense up. As good a poet as Baldur was, he could never express with words just how much he loved this woman. He couldn't ever hope to express it fully this way either, but it didn't stop him from giving it his best shot. After her initial gasp and biting her lip again to quell it, Rebec relaxed and a smile took over. All the worry and grief seemed very far away, and the feeling of doing something forbidden in her parents' house was enticing. Mostly she just felt a deep contentment at being with the man she loved. When the physical sensations caught up with her again, she moaned into the fur covering, her body arching. As Baldur climbed up her again, she kissed him passionately, pushing him to his back and rolling with him without breaking the kiss. Careful to keep the bed from creaking, she maneuvered herself onto him and then moved with tortuous slowness with a sensual, teasing effect. Her eyes were bright as she looked down at him. "I love you, Baldur Red-Snow." She had never imagined that she would be so happy, or that a man could make her feel so alive, the way she only had when sailing, or maybe in the heat of battle when the opponent was about to be defeated. Baldur felt that familiar feeling again that Rebec had always managed to awaken in him. That feeling as though he could conquer the world naked with his hands tied behind his back. She just made him feel so good, even out of bed and it made it so hard to stay humble. What made things so great was that he never grew tired of her and he doubted that he ever could. It was almost, no it was like an addiction. The more he was with her, the more he had to have her. That intense desire started to build up in him more and more, and suddenly he couldn't take being careful anymore. Baldur leaned forward and carefully got up with Rebec in tow. Afterwards, Baldur had her lean to the wall and whispered in her ear. "Now there won't be any creaks to worry about." As tough a woman as Rebec was, it only made her appreciate it more when Baldur was forceful with her. She could also feel his heart pounding against her chest, and there was nothing more exciting than to feel and see the effect she had on him. Keeping quiet was still going to be a problem. Arms and legs wrapped around him, she gripped his shoulders for leverage and nipped at his ear with her mouth, urging him on. All the love, the frustration he felt inside him, the pain he felt before from Rebec's anguish and that he shared with her, the longing, the intense need for his wife, all of it Baldur worked out and put into his efforts, holding back nothing, letting Rebec feel exactly just how badly he needed her. Occasionally Baldur could feel her nails dig into his shoulder, but he didn't mind and it just urged him on even more. Baldur and Rebec had been together many times before, but this was different. This was therapy, and this time Baldur had a goal in mind. A child. With that thought in mind Baldur made love to Rebec like his life depended on it and like there wouldn't be a next time. In the heat of things, Baldur forgot where he was and said a little more loudly then the meant to since he forgot to say it earlier, "I love you too, Rebec...Red-Sn- Snow." If Vigge heard them from upstairs, he made no move to object. Maybe his obstinacy had been wiser than his daughter realized. Regardless, Rebec's thoughts were elsewhere. Or rather, the love and care her family had shown for her were just there in a different way, making her long to be a family together with Baldur. She held on to him even after he had finished, stroking his back with her hands and whispering to him. When he carried her back to the bed, she was quiet, stunned to silence and also not needing to say anything. She stayed awake a while, still caressing Baldur's shoulder and back as they held one another. Finally she drifted into a contented sleep. Rebec was the first to wake the next morning. She threw on her woolens and climbed carefully up the stairs, figuring her father would be looming over the door and catch her. There was no sign of Vigge, however. He came in later when Rebec and Baldur were sitting at the table eating breakfast. "Sauna's hot," he said simply, and sat down at the opposite end of the table from Baldur. His beard was braided neatly and hair wet and pulled back. Obviously he had already used the sauna himself. As Rebec got up to dish him out some porridge he cast a glance at Baldur, with a little smirk on his face. It vanished as soon as Rebec returned. "Papa, Baldur wants to know what the story about the giants means," she said, sitting back down. "He knows." Vigge grinned again briefly. Like the giants with the flabby, greedy Nords, he had set obstacles in front of them and made the victory earned, and sweeter for the adversity. There was more to it than that, but that was one thing it meant. Rebec looked from her father to her husband, confused. "Okaay. Well who was the Nord king that drove out all the elves and united the clans? Is that Ysgramor? Borgas? Harald?" The sailor shook his head to each of these. "Older. They called him the Witch King." "The Nords had a witch for a king?" Rebec sounded skeptical. "Not a witch, a witch king. Eat your breakfast." Vigge began shoveling in mouthfuls of porridge as if his life depended on it. That was the end of the matter, as far as he was concerned. Anyway he didn't know any more about the king and didn't want to admit it. Baldur had started to grin when the point Vigge had made finally donned on him. The smirk faded however, when Vigge mentioned "The Witch King." Baldur had already known what the mage had said about his age, and he remembered the vision that he had showed him, but even then, even after he himself proclaimed he really was that old, Baldur never truly believed it. Baldur's mind drifted back to the amulet that he had activated back in Morthal before they left earlier in the day, and started thinking about how despite his distrust that he claimed to have in the man, he kept falling back on him and using his power. He also remembered how he helped bring about the alliance and knew at the moment he didn't have a choice but to utilize his power, as it would be foolish not to. "Pa, uh I mean, Vigge. This could be important. I need you to tell me everything you know about the legend of this "Witch King"." Wiping his mouth with the back of the hand, he said, "Just the name. Probably made up. Good story, though, wasn't it." He grinned again, apparently in a good mood, and went back to eating. "Baldur, what are you thinking?" Rebec asked, reading the look on his face. Baldur was looking at his food still, thinking about the mage and the darkness in his heart, or rather that was his heart. He was questioning the wisdom in defeating the Thalmor only to replace them with another threat just as bad. For now he was focusing on the Thalmor, but what then? Baldur knew. He'd dedicate his life to killing all elves, and to do that he could try and reclaim his old throne. And his whole life was potentially eternal. Baldur didn't see that happening however, but it could lead to yet another war. Perhaps not in his lifetime, but he'd rather not die knowing all that they fought for could be undone. But then again even without the Witchking, was that not always a risk? Simply put, Witchie was a necessary evil. Still, it may be necessary in the future to not let him have such easy access to power like the Empire's Empress. For now, it was in their benefit, but Witchie was no Stormcloak. That had been evident from day one. What Vigge said hadn't really been a revelation. More of a confirmation of a future problem he already knew about. He couldn't be foolish. In the future he needed to take steps. Of course, this still was assuming the mage wasn't just a pretender. "I'm thinking...that we may be playing with fire. But that's okay. I didn't get my nickname for nothing." Baldur let those last words linger with a smirk as he said it. Baldur thought to himself that if the Witch King ever tried to go for the throne, he'd be there with his men to challenge him. And if he died before the attempt, he'd still be there through his children and his children's children. But for now, the issue was distant. And the Thalmor would remain likely as long as he would in some form or another to keep him busy. The fact that that thought comforted him made him almost laugh out loud. Still, this was a talk he needed to have with Rebec later. He forgot that he hadn't filled her in on him. Rebec was giving him a concerned look. For his part, Vigge just glanced sharply at him once, then rose from the table and said, "You two get out. I got things to do." "Come on, love," Rebec said, pulling on Baldur's arm. "You'll feel better after a steam bath." Vigge had lit up a cigarette, a larger version of the little ones Rebec smoked, and was staring contemplatively at the fire. He laughed and leaned down when his daughter pulled on his neck to kiss him on the cheek. Rebec got a stack of linen towels from a cabinet and took them with her. The sauna was on the other side of the house from the burial plot, up a little path marked by with a stacked-stone pillar. Smoke drifted up from a stone firehouse to its side, which doubled as an oven and a meat smoker. The sauna itself was a clean little wood-paneled building, with a few windows high up. Behind it, a stream poured down from the mountain into a partially frozen-over pool and ran on towards the sea. "Strip," Rebec ordered as they reached the sauna door. She began shedding clothes, as well. These she hung on hooks outside the door. Inside, the sauna was lined with high benches. At one end of the little room, stones were stacked up over a grate that was full of live coals. The room was already full of steam from Vigge using it before. There were pitchers of water ready to make more. Rebec closed the door behind them, and lined a bench with linen towels to sit on, then waited for Baldur to get situated before pouring some water on the hot stones. Billows of hot steam poured out, almost suffocating in intensity. When she was satisfied, she came over and handed Baldur a parcel of willow branches and leaves tied like a little hand-held broom. "Wait til you're good and sweaty, then beat your body with this to clean off." Baldur stared at the thing for a while, and looked at Rebec, slightly confused at the purpose of making him sweat. He had never been in a sauna before, so this would be a new experience for him. Going from the cold outside to the intense warmth suddenly had been nice at first, but Baldur wasn't used to feeling this kind of heat, at least not since Helgen, and it showed. Baldur's body started to flush slightly, but Vigge and Rebec apparently enjoyed this, so he'd give it a chance. "Wow, it feels like the inside of a dragon's mouth in here!" said Baldur. "The pain will be worth it," Rebec promised. She was sitting next to him with her eyes closed and head resting back on the wall, letting the steam soak her through. "Anyway this isn't half the horror of Dibella's trials, so consider yourself lucky." After some minutes, Rebec sat up and began batting at her arms and back and legs with the little hand-broom. The leaves gave off a clean, herby scent and the slight battering invigorated the blood. Baldur felt like he was going to die from the heat, but he had to admit sweating out so much did give him a strange sense of feeling cleansed. Baldur followed Rebec's example and started hitting at his body with the herbs as well. "Wow, we need to make sure we build one of these at our home. After last night, well. It's quite the relaxing combo. Your dad..." Baldur started laughing as he leaned back again and closed his eyes. "I don't know what to think about your dad. His story, I wonder if he planned that all out or if he just went along with it after...you know. We won." Baldur laughed again after he finished speaking. Rebec laughed, as well. "He's a Nord. Making up horker shit stories is what he does. Then making up horker shit about the horker shit he made up. How come you looked like you saw a sea ghost when he said that name?" "Hmm, you know our pet mage?" said Baldur not waiting for a reply. "Witchie used to go by that name. Witch King. I never heard of his name before, so when your father mentioned it and it matched up with what I overheard the mage say once and with what he showed me, it worried me a bit. He's useful, but if we're not careful and we let him go unchecked, it could come back to bite us in the ass. I know, it sounds crazy, but if you hang around him for a while, you'll feel it. It doesn't sound as crazy. And if it is true, then we need to be careful. His mind right now is focused on slaying the Thalmor, but he made it clear on more than one occasion that he's against all elves, not just Thalmor. Even people like our altmer friend and Mazoga. He's the one that killed your dunmer driver. I don't know if he was a spy or not, but even if he wasn't, he'd have killed the mer anyway. It may not seem like a problem now, but it could be in the future. If he was once a High King, he could covet the throne again and try to drag Skyrim into his vendetta against elves. That isn't what Skyrim needs. Even Wulfharth as powerful as he was was defeated. That happens, he could bring Skyrim down with him. And I don't know about you, but I don't want nords killing off elves anymore than I want elves killing off nords. We may revere the old nords for their strength, but as we learned in Falkreath, sometimes the old ways should stay just that." "You're right about one thing. It sounds crazy. My pa knows lots of old stories, but that's just something he made up, or his pa made up. There's no way that mage is thousands of years old. Not even the Mer can do that. As for what Witchie might do sometime in the future, I can't say I care right now. What are we supposed to do anyway?" asked Rebec. "Right now, nothing." admitted Baldur. "The Thalmor take precedence. But we should be careful in the help we give him in the future. We basically just handed him the damn Empire, since he has some kind of pull with the Empress, but it was either that or a Thalmor whore of an Emperor. He was the lesser of two evils. But if there's ever a way to somehow undermine his influence in a way that doesn't put the Empire at risk, I'll take it. Someone like him shouldn't be in power. As for the crazy part, you think its coincidence that your father knows that name and he goes by it? If your pa or his pa made it up? Living for that long, yea. It's a stretch. A big one. But there were all sorts of forgotten magics back in the old times. Wulfharth too had a way of living past what most would consider a normal lifespan." "Ysmir's a god. Or something. Witchie's powerful, I'll say that. I saw what that wolf of his can do. But he's no Wulfharth. Just quit worrying, Red-Snow. You're supposed to be relaxing." She got up and poured some more water on the stones for a second round. Baldur sighed and did as he was told. Thinking about Witchie and what he may or may not do, if he was or was not that old and if he should or should not be wary of him was starting to give him a headache, and right now they were on break. It was a problem for another day anyway. Right now all that mattered was them. "You're right. Sorry. I just have this nagging feeling in the back of my head about him. He's trouble. I know he is. I feel it in my gut. I just need to be careful on how much I utilize him. But no, he's no Shezzarine." Rebec smiled, took up a sea sponge, wet it, and turned Baldur around to scrub his back. She did this gently, still mindful of his scars. "I was thinking about this T you got on your back. Maybe I'll get a tattoo to match." Baldur was smiling deeply from Rebec's tending, as his back was sore a lot of the time and the feeling had eased from Rebec's gentle scrubbing. He had grown used to it, but every now and then it ached enough for him to notice. The priest's ointment from Whiterun helped a great deal with that, though. Baldur's smile faded at the mention of his brand, however. The memory of the unimaginable pain came back to him when she did. "Why on Nirn would you wish to do that? I know I said it stands for Talos, but we both know the truth." "To match." She slid her arms around his waist from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I could get a B for Baldur if you want, but I want to match. It's not remembering the torture, but remembering that you won. Like in my pa's silly story. The victory is sweeter because of what we went through." Baldur closed his eyes and rested his head against hers as she rested hers on his shoulder. Then he slid his hand over hers as she held him. "Hm, you're right. Again. I'd be proud to have a matching mark with you. Maybe I could get some kind of band around my arm to match yours." She smiled at that and nuzzled his cheek. "We'll do it in Hammerfell. That's where I got these. A real sailor has a few just for showing up." The heat had made Rebec sleepy, so she just lounged there for a while, holding him. Eventually her thoughts turned to the night before. "You were incredible," she murmured, figuring he would get the idea what she meant. The memories of it sent shivers up her back despite the warmth of the room. Her hands slid down his stomach, then Rebec moved around to the front and knelt, resting her arms on Baldur's knees and looking up at him. "Let me return the favor." Baldur's eyes were still shut, but he opened his left eye and gave her a sly look before grinning some. "You are too good to me, you know that?" "You don't seem relaxed enough yet," she answered, smiling slyly. "I thought I'd remedy that." When Rebec was satisfied that she had, she climbed into his lap and held him, kissing his neck. The steam from the hot stones had receded, but they were making heat of their own and didn't care. After both of them were sated, Rebec stood up and grabbed his hand. "Now, the snow!" Pulling him towards the door, she opened it and plunged naked into the snow, rolling in it and shouting. Even for a Nord it was a shock, but it was all part of the ritual. Baldur was giggling like a child as he and Rebec acted like, well children. As Baldur laid back in the snow moving his arms up and down in it to make a snow Morihaus, his mind drifted back to Boldir and he wondered what in the hell he would think of this. It was so...typical of them, he realized. Then he thought nothing further of it, as he grabbed a pile of snow and threw it at Rebec's head. Rebec squawked, flung a handful of snow back into his face, and tackled Baldur before he could recover. Sailors don't fight fair. She ground his face into the snow, then leapt up and darted away before the inevitable retribution. Making for the stream, Rebec waded into the waterfall pool and dunked her head under to rinse her hair, then straightened and shook the water out of it. When Baldur finally got around to lifting his head from the snow, Baldur's beard suddenly grew much thicker than before, as did his eyebrows and the front half of his hair. He was about to shake it off, but decided against it and walked over to where Rebec was, with the snow still caught in his hair. "Hey Rebec! Who am I?" Baldur started walking heavily and imposingly, then he spoke in a low deep grumble as he gave her Vigge's trademark glare. "In the cellar, boy. Hurt my daughter and I'll use your limbs as clubs!" Continued below

Disgraced Solder, Saladin Prison near the Bruma border Night, The soldier continued his silent vigil, as he lay in the hay covered cell, with rats and mice scowering around his feet. His skin was naturally a tan colour, but the lack of sunlight caused it to become a pale white. He had greasy black hair, which was long and very messy.Under other circumstances he would have a finely trimmed black beard, instead, it was long, shaggy, and rugged. He wore a simple prison outfit, a tunic made from a potato sack along with a pair of awful shoes. He was a soldier, an imperial soldier. A soldier that committed atrocities, a man who was known among the command staff of the Imperial Legion as a black operative, doing Wetwork that was too risky for the public to know about. He had done all of it in the name of his home nation, out of duty and necessity to his glorious empire. He now thought it anything but glorious. No nation was Glorious, neither the Empire, Thalmor, or Stormcloaks. The only thing he had thought about since his imprisonment were all the sins he committed over the years, he initially tried to justify them with "I did it for my homeland" or "I was just following orders" but excuses could only go so far, and the rain never washed everything away. "Centurion." A voice was heard that came beyond the bars, a voice that didn't belong to any of the prison guards. It was formal, polite, and primal. Was he really starting to hear voices? Has it already been this long? Last time he had counted it had been around two years since the Skyrim Civil War. The soldier ignored it, insanity only got worse if you acknowledged the voice, a rock hit his left leg, not to hard, but enough to cause a little pain. He stirred, the voice wouldn't go away, and that rock made the soldier think this wasn't just in his head. The voice said, "Understandable, after all this time you would be suspicious of your sanity, but I can tell you right now i'm very real." The torches that were usually lit outside were apparently snuffed out, and the room was cloaked in shadow. The soldier couldn't see a thing. He didn't feel right, unusually cold... "Who are you, and what do you want with me?" Blurted out the soldier, straightening out his back. The voice responded with, "Like you, a soldier. Centurion Pollo Augustus. Augustus glanced around, searching for the owner of the voice, but couldn't see anything in the utter darkness. He was now standing fully up, with his arms out in a fighting pose out of instinct.The voice chuckled a bit, "As skilled as you are, Pollo, i don't think you could match me in unarmed combat. Nothing against you, it's just a fact." It said, Pollo, glanced around, before putting his arms down, it didn't matter anyways. Pollo said, "If you know the name Pollo Augustus, then you know you should be letting me rot in this cell." "Why?" The voice said continuing with, "The Pollo Augustus I've heard about is a hero, a true patriot." Augutus laughed, before replying, "If you do "truly" know me, then you know that hero stuff is a load of bullshit. I'm not a hero, never was." Augustus breathed in a deep amount of air, before sitting back down. "You've led over Six dozen operations against the Aldmeri Dominion, under personal orders from Titus Mede II during and after the great war, and unlike the utter ineffectiveness of the Pentiulas Occultus, you succeeded in all of them. You were accepted into the blades at a very young age, and unlike the others, swallowed your pride and went into hiding in the legion, while forsaking Talos. Quite interesting. But enough about that, "who I am" is irrelevant, if you must call me by a name, you may refer to me as "Saladin". " Pollo eye browns raised, he was curious, but not curious enough to care. "Saladin? No matter. Leave me be." The soldier turned around, as to say the conversation was over. He wouldn’t be so easily swayed. Saladin continued "I know what haunts you. I cant say I support what you did, but understand the necessity of the situation." "Necessity?! There was nothing necessary about what I did to that village. Or was the slaughter of innocents." The voice continued, " I understand the guilt you feel- Pollo interrupted, anger tinged his voice "How do you understand? Tell me how the **** do you understand?" The voice laughed, and said "My hands are also stained with the blood of innocents." Pollo turned around, facing the darkness. "You don’t know how it was." "I know all the gristly details, from firsthand accounts . Your target was an isolated dumner settlement located in the Eastmarch settlement, presumably under orders from General Tullius himself, or so your men thought. You disguised yourselves as bandits, and razed the village to the ground, killing everyone. Not even the children were sparred from being put to the sword. After that, you let it take care of it by it self. The claims of racism against the Stormcloak government and upper command staff were already well know, but started to spread like wildfire after the incident, with claims of Ulfric not intervening rampant. Eventually, real bandits took the initiative. Ulfric having his hands tied due to the war, didn't have the man to spare, couldn’t intervene. The Propaganda was...consumed by the imperial media, and became an anti Stormcloak rallying cry. Unknown to your men however, Tullius did not sanction the operation, and was hatched by you alone. Your second command, after finding out, ratted you out and the rest is history." Pollo didn't speak, he silently gazed at the shadow. Saladin contuined, "Your operation gave the Empire months of a tactical advantage, and the racism claims went out of control. You feed the flames of a half-truth, and it sky rocketed, and made the Stormcloaks look very bad to many imperial citizens. After the infamous pillage of Whiterun, anti-Stormcloak sentiment went rampant even in Stormcloak controlled holds." Pollo simply said, "Did we win?" Saladin responded with, "No, we did not." Pollo's features became downcast, and he sighed in sorrow, "So overall, it didn't do much?" "In the long run, yes. They won, and we lost. That's all that matters." Saladin said sorrowfully. "It was necessary still, however, as the propaganda and appeal of being "A true Son or Daughter of Skyrim" was everywhere. You gave us are own weapon to field, and it was quite effective." "I suppose" Said Pollo. Saladin continued "Your skills as a soldier and as a operative are needed. Your not doing anyone favour by remaining here. I offer you a second chance under my command." As Saladin said that the door to his cell opened, and a torch was visible, near the torch was a bag. "The guards are all dead, inside that bag you'll find everything you need. Find me, and my unit. I need good soldiers like you." And with that, the presence faded away. Leaving Augustus alone.

Theodore, Darius The Laughing Fox Morning Theodore was relaxed, his feet propped on the table in the back corner of The Laughing Fox. The Lord General was dressed in simple clothes one would lunge around in, a green shirt with black pants and boots. In his hand was a recounting of the recent war in Skyrim, in the form of a book. Overall, it was trash, idolizing the Imperial cause and relegating the Nords to naked savages. Thankfully, he had just finished it, and wouldn't have to suffer through it anymore. He took out the flask and swung it up, letting the whiskey make it's fiery slide down his throat. Theo replaced it in his coat pocket, just in time for the ornery Redgurd barmaid to pop him in the leg with her washing towel. "Fine fine, I'll get my feet off," he said in mock defeat. Theodore set his feet on the ground, and heard the creaking of the tavern door as it swung open. Darius entered the Laughing Fox. It wasn't the inn he'd usually go to, but apparently it had become a melting pot for certain nobles, especially from High Rock. Some highly important man in the Breton court had made it his home while he was in the city, so making an appearance was expected of him. Not to mention that it could be beneficial. Seeing Count Bathory enter, Theodore have a slight wave, motioning for the Count to join him. The Count paused for a moment, as if to show that he was unsure the invitation was worth responding to before he decided that it was. With a few quick steps he walked over to Theodore and gave a slight bow. "Greetings, General Adrard. It has been a long time." Theodore rose, mimicking the bow. "Count Bathory. What, ten years maybe? Sadly I can't leave High Rock too often, but since I'm here I've been staying for a while. Please have a seat." "Thank you," Darius took a seat and gestured for someone to take his order. Nothing more fancy than some Tamika from a fine year, he rarely felt the need to show off with exotic drinks. Such was for the lesser players of the courts. "What brings you to the Imperial City? I'm sure your father-in-law would prefer for you to stay in High Rock." Theodore sat as well, adopting a more dignified pose than the one Ena scolded him one. "I'm sure he would have, but someone from High Rock had to come as a representative, and I also will command the military so it was decided I should come." Ena arrived as Theo finished talking, waiting to take their orders. "Just some Tamika, if you please," Darius mentioned to Ena, without really acknowledging that she was there. "Yes, I am sure the king thought it good to have a representative with real power in Cyrodiil these days, with the rapid changes in the White-Gold that has occurred lately." Ena left to get the Count's drink, while Theodore nodded at Darius' last remark. "King only in name. While we are 'free' that'll stop soon enough. I'm sure you've heard of the schism in High Rock? The Pro-Imperials and the Independents?" "Yes, High Rock has always been - how do we say it? - hard to control for the Cyrodilic Empire. More interested in their internal conflicts, rather than that of the other provinces. That some now have decided that it is time to make a choice in future affiliation is not surprising." "Selfish ignorant fools. Those same people would probably side with the Thalmor for the right about of coin. That's why I'll be heading back soon, with King Gaerhart on his deathbed there will be a power struggle, no doubt." Theodore didnt bothering hiding the contempt in his voice at the thought of the Independents. "Oh, I am not so sure about that. I've been to High Rock several times, and I doubt the return of elven rule would be welcome, even for the most selfish ones. I'm under the impression that the Independents just want to be left alone to persecute the Orc in peace." Darius smiled shortly and took a sip of his drink. One of the truly great things about being a vampire in court was that he had no reason to worry about someone trying to poison him. An advantage many nobles could attest to being useful. And people who tried could only conclude that he had found out and prevented it somehow. Talking about it publicly surely didn't help them after such an event. Theodore grumbled, taking out his flask. He uncorked the top and took a good swig of his whiskey. While he was not a vampire nor poison proof, his flask was enchanted so that any poison that entered was destroyed. That was a product of an attempted poisoning that only failed because of his girth, the amount not enough to do him in. "Hrgh, well, what of things here in Cyrodiil, with the new Empress and all." "I'd say the changes have been for the better. In the time between the death of the Mede dynasty and he new Empress ascend to the throne, we had to put up with the inquisitive Justiciars of the Thalmor and their notion that they could tell any human what to do. They were never much successful in Skingrad, but other cities had it worse. While the new Empress is by no means someone I would outright support, I do know that she is the first light we've had since the signing of the White-Gold Concordat. What is more troublesome is her Spymaster and his conflict with the court mage. Reducing the Penitus Oculatus to a pawn in a petty scheme is beneath them." "The time I met her, she seemed nice enough, if maybe a little young for te job. Better than her father, no doubt. I've also met the Court Mage, and he seemed....mysterious? We've all got our secrets, but there was something about him. This Spymaster though, he's the former Legate, Logra, Logar...." Theodore stroked his mustache, searching for the name. "...Lorgar! That's what it is." "He's a rank amateur, if you want my professional opinion. Never have I seen the Penitus Oculatus under worse leadership. Not Blackwood either," Darius just shook his head. "I'm sure he did fine as a military commander, but now he is playing a different game all together. And so far he has not impressed, other than through his stupidity of antagonizing the court mage. It takes a special kind of moron to create more instability than there already is in the White-Gold knowingly. Apologies for being blunt, but I am not aware of any doublespeak that makes the point well enough in this situation." "Understandable. I've not met the man, as I said, so I'll take your word for it. It takes special skills to master both politics and military leadership, ones it seems he doesn't have. I've heard he's made waves among the rest of the nobility as well, so how do they view this new administration?" "It is a matter of debate among most of them, or so they pretend. Most are interested in seeing how this conflict with him and the court mage is going to turn out, so they can take side and gain favor. No one, but me it seems, actually care if he is able to do his job properly, if they can manipulate him to further their own agenda. To many, not being more skilled than to just barely take down the court mage with a lot of help is the best thing in Mundus. I fear for the future of county Chorrol's ruling family, with their ties to the Spymaster. Active supporters or not, this whole ordeal is hurting them." "Dangerous thing, politics. One slight misstep, one wrong move, and your family goes down on the losing side in the history books. Speaking of which, how are your children? Maggie still writing, and Jem still...doing whatever it is Jem does?" "Jem has recently overstepped his position, I am ashamed to say, and is making up for his mistakes in Skingrad Castle these days. Can you believe that he thought it a good idea to leave for the Imperial City without consulting me and then talk to, not to mention annoy, people of importance? Part of the reason I am here is to undo the damage he did. But at least Maggie has the sense to not follow in her brother's footsteps. Those years in High Rock wasn't for nothing." Darius made sure he appeared to be the loving, but disappointed family father, even going with the nicknames of his children instead of their real names. The truth was that Janus had done little to harm their position, some insulting words and bad attitude was nowhere near enough to make a dent in the Bathory family, but he had still acted without permission. So why not let the nobles believe that even they could be taken down? "I see. Well, we can't let our children overstep their bounds. Especially when they disobey." Theodore took out the flask again, but before he could uncork it he realized it was empty, so he replaced it back in his pocket. "Indeed, we cannot. If my son is to one day have my position, he will have to be thought what he can and cannot do." Darius gestured for Ena to give the general a refill, on his bill. "How is your father-in-law doing? I know he is not well, but the details have been sparse to any outsider." Theo held out the flask, and when Ena grabbed it he held onto it for a second so she did a double take. She pulled out the towel again and swatted his hand away. "Haha, staying here for so long lets you get to know these people. Fun lot. But yes, my wife's father is...sick. Deathly so. I don't know the nature of the illness, but it could be anything from a cold to something more sinister. Whatever it is, he won't make it, that much is certain." "I'm sure they are a pleasant lot," the Count smiled at him. "A shame that this has happened to him. Strange too, High Rock is known to have many skilled healers and alchemists. I doubt it is something common, if one of the royalty has little chance of a cure." "From the description, it may be...something Daedric in origin. One priest went into an episode while trying to heal him, having seizures and such. I'm afraid it may be..." Theodore lowered his voice so not as to alame anyone. "...Peryite's Plague." "Hmm, disturbing," Darius nodded slowly. "If it really is daedric in nature... it is a disturbing thought, to say the least, Never a good thing when the daedric lords are involved in mortal politics." "Agreed. But the most troubling part is what will happen if my brother-in-law takes power. He may be the loudest voice for Breton independence. Fool..." Theodore was thankful for the arrival of Ena, who handed him the filled flask. "Perhaps. I cannot say I blame him, given the recent history of the Empire. The Empire has always been based on the Cyrodiil/Skyrim alliance forged in its initial years, and now Skyrim is independent. What is considered to be the most important contributor to the Imperial Legion is no longer present. Not to mention what people have had to put up with in the recent years under the Empire, after the Great War. Many, understandably, look with caution to Imperial leadership." The Count emptied his glass before he continued. "Of course, I am an Imperial both of heritage and heart, and I'd prefer the Empire to be reunited. But we cannot ignore the very real and valid reasons the provinces have gained to distrust the rockheads in the Imperial City." "It's men like you, Darius, that are what we need here in the Imperial City. I haven't yet given up on the Empire and most of High Rock hasn't either. But some wish or our alliance to end, and I'll see that it doesn't." "Maybe, but I fear that the Elder Council would be horrified if I were to take a permanent residence here. We have been at odds many times since the White-Gold Concordat. If I was placed on it, I'd give myself a few weeks to live. No, I can do more good as the count of Skingrad, where I can put outside pressure on the ruling body." "Just keep those busybodies in check. With how young the Empress is, and the schism between her advisors, they could try and make a move. The last thing we need is more instability." Theo downed some more whiskey, careful not to drink too much. "They won't move before it is over. I've gone to great lengths to ensure that the major schemes have been postponed for a while yet." Darius nonchalantly replied with a comment that made him sound like his mind was at something else. It served a purpose; to give an idea to the general who he was dealing with. Intimidation factor. And, unlike so many attempts at intimidation, not based on lies. Theodore either wasn't intimidated or simply didn't care. In reality, he knew Bathory held great power, and could be a fearsome enemy or a grand ally. "So, enough about scheming and politics of the capital. How are things in Skingrad?" "Peaceful, to the degree one can expect it to be in these times. No problems rising that the town guard cannot handle, and generally nothing to threaten the common man. Not a whole lot to say, to be honest. Skingrad is a boring topic of discussion, unless you have an interest in fine wine and cheese. And tomatoes, I guess." "Wine and cheese are both excellent topics, although maybe for a different time. I have some other things I need to take care of." Theodore stood, and bowed. "A pleasure to talk to you, Count Bathory." "The pleasure has been mine, General." With that, Theodore dropped a few septims on the table before heading to his room.

Dales, Skjari Imperial palace Late afternoon Gods help me... They should be discussing how people are starving and help should be delivered, or how a road is in need of repair. Or something important. Instead, Dales had heard requests, complaints, and demands from petty nobles, and how "there blood has been running pure for ten generations." Dales sat on the ruby throne, with her head on her arm, trying her best to focus on the noble who was currently talking about a body of water that had been apparently been "stolen" from his family twenty years ago by another noble family. SHUT UP. Maybe you can focus on that poverty rate increasing in your fief instead of a pond you dimwit. Dales noticed that the two mages behind the noble, that was now complaining, bored and she barely noticed that one them subtly cast a spell on the noble. The noble stopped talking and got a blank stare before excusing himself for forgetting what he came for before removing himself from the court. The two mages stepped forward, one was a rather old imperial with grey short hair and mustache with a rather long goatee and a few wrinkles in his face, and he wore the robes of the Synod. His look said that he was either prudish or proud abut being a mage, or both. But he still had a certain humility about him. The other mage was a rather gorgeous woman with brown hair, she appeared to be a nord in her mid to late twenties, but a rather short nord. She wore the robes of the College of Whisper. And even though she had a light smile on her face, her eyes spoke of boredom of being at the court and that look in her eyes didn't change when she stepped forward towards the throne. The older mage stepped forward with a few firm short but firm steppes and spoke in a powerful yet humble voice. "Your majesty. We at the Synod and the College of Whispers," He gave the other mage a quick disapproving glance before returning his gaze to Dales. "wish to hold a mage tournament in this great city. We want to hold a tournament where mages from all corners of Tamriel can join in to test their skills in the arcane arts." Dales, who was very thankful for that idiot being gone, boredom melted away, and she viewed them intently, especially to the attractive female mage. Though she smiled at both of them, "I find that a splendid idea." "We require a bit of funding for the preparations and permission to hold this public event here in the city. It will be a great spectacle for the people to see and can probably bring in lots of trade to the city." The man looked content, like he was sure the whole deal was already sealed. But then the female mage stepped forward so that she didn't stand slightly behind the old mage but instead right besides him. The old mage gave her another disapproving look which only caused her smile to turn wider with a satisfied look that it bother him. "Of course "we" need to mention that not just every mage can participate. Every mage seeking to participate in a competition will have to present a magical item that pass a certain power level as an entry fee. These items will be collected in a pot for that competition and the winner is allowed to keep their item and to choose three others from the pot. The rest in the pot will be divided between the College and the Synod. We will of course donate a few of the items to the crown as a thanks for allowing us to hold this tournament." The old mage turned his gaze back to Dales and even though his eyes showed his discontent about the mage behind him, his voice did not. "Yes, the entry fee. I hope your majesty don't mind the entry fee, we can't simply hold this tournament without a little gain on our end. And as my "colleague" here say; we will donate a few of the items to the crown. We will also need a little help to spread the word, we only require that you have a town crier and a few posters in the major cities, maybe even send word to High Rock. I'm sure your people, the bretons, have some talented mages." Dales vision gazed at the two mages, with her ears listening to the female mages melodic voice, "No I don't mind at all." She motioned for her attendant to join them, she said to the mages, "I will have my attendant get you what you need." "Splendid!" The old mage said before he quickly and eagerly walked up to the attendant to make talk about the preparations. The woman slowly stepped to the side but didn't join the old mage, her eyes seemed to even avoid to look at him as the old man spoke to the attendant. Dales then noticed that the court mage Skjari entered the court room, he was hard to miss as he was a head taller than almost all the imperials that were gathered there. He walked on the outskirt of the room towards the throne. When he was stepping up the throne from the side, as discretely a man of his size in this land could, the female mage looked at him with a devious smile that he noticed. Skjari looked like he recognized her and he even had a hint of surprise in his eyes, Dales had by now learnt how to see the subtle display of emotions in his face that could sometimes go unnoticed for a normal person. The woman then gave him a wink which caused his surprised look to become more clear, he responded with a quick but small and subtle smile before he took the finals steps towards Dales where he leaned in and spoke in a low voice, not so low that people would think he's whispering secrets into her ear but low enough that only those who stood closest could barely hear what he said. "Having fun?" "The female mage...I want her." Dales said, with her mouth hanging open. "But it seems...you already took dibs..." "She came to me some time ago, she was to convince me to leave the Synod and join the College of Whisper." He looked towards the female mage that now looked bored again and had her gaze go sweep through the room. "I suppose you want to have her tonight?" Said Dales bitterly, "Go ahead then, I wont harass her." "I'm more hoping that Maggie comes around tonight. I wont stop you about the mage." He gave quick and subtle nod towards the female mage. "Though she probably will, judging from the way she kicked out one of the maids that happened by and wanted to join. Anyway, what are they here for?" "Ask them yourself." Said Dales, who had dark bags under her eyes. She was tired. But before Skjari could even think of a response the old mage had finished talking with the attendant and almost shouted at him with a half merry voice. "Skjari! It's good to see you again. Have you reconsidered about my offer?" He stretched out his hand for a handshake which Skjari took. "I'm sorry but my answer is still no. Though I wish you good luck in your endeavors. Though you don't mind me asking, what are you here for?" Skjari gave the female mage a quick glance. "Oh so you missed it. Well, "we" are here to request her majesty to approve of "our" plans of holding a grand mage tournament in this city. Each mage that wish to enter a competition will have to pay a small entry fee, a rather powerful magical item. The winner get to keep three items from the pot of the competition. We at the Synod would like if you came and competed in our name." "I'm sorry, I have to decline that offer as well. I think that my role here at court require me to at least try to be somewhat neutral about matters outside the crown. Now if you excuse me." "Of course, I understand." The mage said, but he didn't sound that pleased, but he was good at hiding it though. SKjari then made his way towards the same way he had come in through and the female mage was carefully watching him as he walked through the outskirts of the room. She excused herself and then disappeared down the same hallway as Skjari. The old mage didn't seem to notice where his "colleague" had gone but he seemed relieved that she was gone. The old mage turned to throne. "Thank you, your majesty." "Yes...yes...yes..." She said waving her arm. Hmmmm let's find a servant girl... The old mage looked slightly crestfallen and disappointed at how the empress now suddenly turned indifferent towards him. He bowed and then left the court room with quick yet firm steps.

Darius, Milly The Tiber Septim Hotel Midday Darius sat in the lobby of the Tiber Septim Hotel. In front of him, on a small coffee table there was a glass of wine. Tamika, form the taste of it. He had larger concerns than the wine though; Magdela and Samuel. They had done well, in this situation, but his daughter's position in the White-Gold remained a high risk, even if they got rid of this Trym Heart-Hand. What should I do about it? I would arouse suspicion if she simply stopped going, now that she has developed connections to the new Empress, and this Skjari. And yet, her continued presence will be a problem the moment Samuel is no longer there to keep this situation under control. He took a sip of the wine and turned to look at the different patrons this place had. Some minor nobles, some more important one, but at this moment there were no one worth taking an interest in. Simply observe, until someone decided they wanted to try to get into his good graces. It was only a matter of time, given the circumstances. Countess Marella Quentas entered the Tiber Septim Hotel, clad in her usual black-pink dress, with a blue bow tie attached to the chest area. She wore her hair, the same style she had during her wedding day. She passed by various nobles of different importance, nevertheless All she wanted was a drink, ****, it's not "lady-like" to get piss drunk in public, I suppose i'll have to be content with a glass of wine or two, She approached the counter, before saying in her "shy-girl" voice, "Ummm...excuse me?" The girl at the counter smiled warmly, before asking her, "What will it be today milady?" Playing to act, she looked at her feet downward, and started to loose focus on the waitress, "Ummmm...can I have a glass of red valenwood wine?". The girl poured the wine into a silver goblet, before handing it to Milly gently. Milly payed the waitress, afterwords thanking her. She headed to a vacant coffee table Darius raised an eyebrow. What was Quentas doing here at this hour? And from the looks of it, she was disappointed by something. If he had to guess, he'd say either the lack of someone important, which was out of the question due to his own presence in the lobby, or that she wanted something she couldn't have. And judging by her eyes on the drink that was brought to her, she wanted to get drunk. Typical. Someone of note enters, and all they are interested in is drinking. Such a shame. Milly took a seat at a table to the right of the room, and began to slowly sip her wine. She had an act to keep, so she couldn't just chug down the wine like she wanted too, she had to slowly and "lady-like" sip it with grace. She noticed the eyes of many nobles trailed on her, she had heard they made fun of her behind her back for her choice of a husband, ******* Bigots, I should slip frogs into your baths... On his side of the lobby, Darius could hear that some gossip about the new arrival started to rise. Morons, concerning themselves with minor details and completely oblivious to the larger schemes in this city and land. Nothing but pawns to be moved around at will, under the illusion that their titles and wealth had any real meaning in the true political game of Cyrodiil. "Waiter? Could you give the countess Quentas an invitation to join me? Thank you." Milly had just started to get comfortable, when a man of around fifty years approached her saying, "Milady, Count Darius Bathory extends an invitation to join him." Bathory? What does the count of Skindgard want with me... Millies Mother, Countess Rubican, would always tell her "Milly, most of the nobles in court are complete morons, however, be extra careful if you meet someone from Skindgard, they can be a great help, and a massive danger all at the same time". Taking the warning to heart Milly put on her best smile, before taking her glass of wine and heading over to the specified table. As she approached the man, she bowed, and said quietly, "Milord Bathory." "You're nervous. Don't be. I have no intentions of proposing something that will land you in the deep end of the pool. I simply saw that you needed someone to drink with. Please, take a seat." Milly, while relieved, didn't end her guard. She quietly sat down at the table, before saying, "I thank you for invitation milord, it's lonely drinking by yourself." "Naturally," he offered her a kind smile and raised his glass to toast something that apparently never had crossed his mind. "How have your recent past been? I hear there have been quite a few changes lately." "Ah yes." Milly chuckled softly, before continuing, "It take quite a bit to get use to married life, i'm forced to nag a great deal towards my husband" "I'm sure you do. He is, and I apologize for being so blunt, in over his head with his job. I've gone over the records for the royal Spymasters for the last 200 years, and he is at the worse end of the list. At least when it comes to the required skills for the job. Not to mention his fief has to be run as well. I'm surprised he hasn't run it to the ground already. I'd be drinking too, if I were in your position." "He's a good person, an amazing soldier, cunning leader, but a horrible politician..." She said rubbing her scalp. "And a ticking timebomb, waiting to go off. You know of what I speak." Her eyes sharped, and her gaze changed, "His "lycantropy". You know of it?" "And his little schism with the court mage. You are not doing yourself, or Chorrol, any favors by being his husband. Something to consider, while you finish that glass and come up with another topic for the rest of this conversation." Darius had kept a friendly disposition throughout their exchange and now he lifted his glass again, before he took another sip. "Milly" wasn't living up to the expectations left in hum by her mother, but hopefully that would change. Would be a great shame if the ruling family of Chorrol was reduced to a minor player, being of the Colovian Estate and all. A sense of kinship had taken a hold of him, it seemed, but it wouldn't keep him from leaving her in the mud, if it came to that. She took another sip of her wine, before "changing the subject" "It's strange you know, one second my mother talks about you with high esteem, the next second she talks about you with something akin to loathing." "She was a wise woman, knowing that every man and woman has more than one side to themselves. Especially in Cyrodiil. You'd do well by following her example." "She told me that, that you had "two faces" and that "The light wasn't for you". How interesting." She another took a sip of wine, "Speaking of my family, my father wanted to disown me, unless I divorced the "Nordic savage". My sister, in her letters said my mother wasn't pleased with fathers threats to me. I can imagine he wont be sending me mail anytime soon, threats or no threats." If Darius was smart, he would know father is nothing but a political puppet, mother held the real power, and the real strength. Father was nothing but a bitter old man, nothing to fear. Her mother, on the other hand, was the real threat, and she currently was still on Milly's side. "Ah, parents. Lovely with a little drama, though it is hardly a secret about your father in the higher echelons. We do tend to keep an eye of thing, especially from "outside the light", as I am sure you would have put it." He paused ever so slightly, giving her time to realize that he was addressing another point than her parents before he continued. "We all wear two faces, my dear. The only difference is how literal such a thing can be interpreted." Milly smiled, before her face twisted into a grin. She put on her innocent face and said somehwat mockingly "Ummmm..." She said, casting her eyes downward, "What do you mean...ummm...mister?" "It seems you do fit the description of you, after all. I am, I admit, a tad disappointed that this mask didn't come up sooner. It would have done you better if used when the topic was your husband. Well, for most people. I, luckily, can count myself among those who rarely, if ever, are fooled by a mask. Or a pretty face." He gave her a smile and a nod. "So, tell me, how is your city doing in your absence? I apologize for prying, but the last reports says that you left the rule of your city to someone you know and trust, but that happens to be someone I don't regard highly. I... am just concerned for my sistercounty, as I am sure you understand." "Of course." Dropping her shy girl act, she straightened out her back and said, "From what I hear. Everything is going quite well. The people are happy, the coffers are full, and more importantly, it's very quiet. My sister has a knack for running business and city management, one of her only true skills." She continued, "If I may ask milord, why do you view my sister in low regard?" "She and I have a... negative history. She tried to advance her station in ways I do not approve of." "Ah...do you mean the..."thing" with a certain noble?" "That would depend on what thing you are referring too, my dear. She has done more then one thing, most of which I believe is unknown to you. You should be more careful than to assume you know her all that well. You always thought she was of limited talent." Milly looked at Darius oddly, before contemplating his words. Nesua was always humble, and the person who would be constantly asking people if they needed anything done. She seemed to be clumsy, ignorant, and a bad schemer. Was all of this an act? Had she been underestimating her younger sister all this time? "Apparntley, the people you cant trust most are your family when your involved in the nobility and politics." She said stroking her chin. "Speaking of which, word around town is a group of vigiliants were investigating your daughter, Countess Magdela." "An unfortunate development, but nothing that came of interest. Simply a misunderstanding based on one of the books she wrote that your husband is so fond off." That caused Milly to laugh, a full on laugh. She couldn't help herself. She did have the decently to laugh quietly however "Seriously?! Camille?! A group of overzealous nutjobs interrogated her because of a yuri novel!?" "It appears so. The whole vampire theme seemed to tick them off, rendering them unable to see that there was little more to it than a play on common romantic themes of the Cyrodilic court. Unsurprising that it was a man from Skyrim who led them, or else he'd know better." "Ah. That makes perfect sense if he came from Skyrim. Have you heard the rumors of a secret war between vampires and a group known as the Dawnguard over in Skyrim? Pretty troubling." She said, taking a sip of her wine. She started to look around, as if to look if someone was watching her, "My mother also told me, that if I was to confine in anyone, it would be you." "I suppose the rumors forgot to mention that this secret war was anything but secret. Most details are unknown, to be sure, but the Dawnguard recruited and act openly in Skyrim," Darius let out a chuckle. "Your mother was, as I said, a wise woman. She knew her way around the nobles of Cyrodill. She was a worthy opponent, and a dear friend." He continues to speak in the past tense...does he know she's still alive, no matter.... She said, with her voice becoming a mere whisper "I can tell you right now, that I love my husband. No question. But I have a very bad feeling, he's planning something, and I think it's not good." When he was sleeping, she had sneaked into his private study, and used some simple lock breaking magic to open his secret chest, and found some very disturbing documents, files of vile people, hired assassins and killers. Even worse, the word "Bloodwolf" was visible threw coded phrases and words. Milly knew the "Bloodwolf" was a beast from Skaalish mythology, a "demon" that haunted the night. "You're right, he is planning something he is not telling you. Something that is likely to hurt you if you get involved. Allow me to say this, as a respectful rival in this great political game; he has made enemies he cannot handle. I recommend that you do not press him in this, as it may come back to you. It would hurt me, to lose a potentially interesting rival." "Your like Lorgar in a different way, you know?" She said smiling "He enjoys battle, you enjoy the battle that is politics. You both thrive off it." "And you enjoy the strange rituals better left unknown to the public," a clever smile formed on his lips. "Not quite as much as your mother, of course. At least not yet." She...cackled quietly, "That I do." And with that, she got out of her chair, before bowing to him. She said shyly, "It was a...pleasure...talking to you milord." "The pleasure was mine, My Lady." As she got up so did Darius and gave her a bow. Once it was done, he sat back down and returned to the activity he had partaken in before she arrived; looking at the pawns and hoping to see a player. *** Imperial Palace Darius, Dales Late evening Dales lay on her bed, currently reading one of Maggies books, "Sons of Skyrim." When she had asked Lorgar how it was , he simply said "Okay." while Tullius had called it "Utter trash". She thought to judge it herself, so she had bought a copy. It was...different. She yawned slightly, it was around 9 or 10, so it wasn't to late. Just then, she heard knocking on her door, it was Kongami, "Milady, it's the Count of Skingard. He requests an audience." Maggie's father? She had meet Darius once before, when she was still simply a Princess. At a gathering in Anvil. He was polite, and charming, if a little reserved. She put down her book, and told her maid, "Tell him to wait in the audience chambers." And with that, Dales got out of her bed and changed into a simple dress. She walked down to the audience chamber and opened the door. Darius waited for the Empress with his back turned to the door she would arrive form. His hands were folded behind his back. This should be interesting. The last time I saw her she was a girl with no direction or real chance at the throne if the nobility had anything to say, and we do, but the changes must have been drastic if I am to judge by the latest reports. Of course, I doubt she lives up to my expectations. Only one ever has. Dales entered, to see Darius waiting patiently for her. She had thought of greeting him warmly, but decided that's not what a leader would do. She straightened out her back to perfect posture, adopted a neutral pose, looked into his eye's and said, neither warmly nor cold, "You requested an audience Count Darius?" He turned around and gave her a smile. It was warmer than what one would expect. Part of his strength, to act friendlier than most nobles without seeming false or out to get something for it. More than a few had been taken by surprise when they ended on the wrong side of one of his schemes. "I did indeed," he chuckled a little, as if to brush the whole ordeal away. "Formalities, you know. I have to make an appearance at the palace unless I want to be hounded about making strange plans for the next few months. I don't have anything in particular I want to bring up, so may I suggest that we share a bottle of wine? While I do not have anything to take up with you, I do appreciate a chance to get to know the new Empress, now that I have the chance." She raised her eyebrow, before nodding, she motioned for the man to take a seat, before taking out a bottle of wine from the Summerset isles. She smiled playfully, "My, my. Requesting a simple talk and chat from the Empress of Tamriel, your a bold man. I like that." She poured two glasses, and handed one to him "I wouldn't say bold, Your Majesty," Darius took the glass with a gesture of thanks. "I know exactly how much power I wield, and I have yet to go anywhere near the possibility of talking beyond my station. But I do find your appreciation of my "boldness" to be refreshing. Your father thought little of it, the few times we met. I hated how I had to remind him who he was dealing with." "My "father" was an arrogant, self-centered, and egoistical madman. Who ignored every piece of advice presented to him. My Spymaster tells me, whatever I do, "don't anger the Count of Skindgard" so i'll take his word that your a person I don't want as my enemy," "You really are refreshing, if I may say so myself. It has been a long time since I've spoken with someone who dared to be blunt with me," he smiled again, this time approving of how she had responded. "Allows me to return the favor. Your Spymaster is correct, you don't want to be my enemy. I wouldn't presume to threaten you, such if for people who don't understand how things are, but I do recommend that you follow the advice on this. But I'd also advice away from trying to make too good friends with me. Your dynasty is still insecure and new, with a great deal of uncertainty around it." She lightly drank a small amount of her wine before responding, "I can tell. There's no reason for us to be friends, but no reason for us to be enemies. Your daughter is very smart you know, playing on the thought of me being ignorant of her previous allegiances to the dominion." "If you think that, then you may not be fully aware of how my daughter acts. I would be highly surprised if she didn't know you know, and disappointed. No, I suspect that she plays on the fact that you think she is playing at. And she has been helpful in taking down many Dominion informants in the city. Having previous allegiances can be beneficial." "Yes. I've heard reports of my court mage and my spymaster handling them. However, if the dominion excels at anything, it's espionage and covert warfare. Wouldn't be surprising if there's still safe houses and many more agents around." "Anything else would be naive. Speaking of your court mage and Spymaster, are you aware of their schisms? It seems they have targeted each other for some reason." "I'm aware. I just don't think it will escalate out of control." "Then I suggest that you take a second look at this situation. Your Spymaster, for a lack of a less offensive description, is an idiot who has foolishly started a shadow war that threaten the stability of the palace more than your lack of an heir ever could." "Lorgar, starting a shadow war?!" Dales face filled with something akin to disbelief, "What is his reasoning behind it?" "I am not aware, sadly. I think the only ones who fully know are Lorgar himself, and your court mage." "Hmmmm...idiots, the both of them..." Dales said annoyingly. "I suppose I can get High-General Tullius to talk Lorgar out of pursing this "Shadow War." "Not going to help, Your Majesty. He already tried." "Lorgar not listening to Tullius?! There practically brothers." This was really worrying, especially considering Lorgar not listening to Tullius. "Has General Gracchus tried?" "Most likely. I doubt there is anything you can do to stop it. All I advice is trying to get an end to it quickly, for damage control. I've put most of the major schemes among the nobles on hold while this little war plays out." "This is very...troubling news. This wont end well will it?" "No, it won't. It is something of a problem for your dynasty, unless you can bring a swift end to it." Dales starred intently at her wine, before saying "I'll have to take a side, wont I?" Darius nodded. She didn't really have to take a side, the court mage was almost guaranteed to win either way, but it was no point in having the situation go on any longer than it needed. it was an unneeded disruption in much of the politics among the nobles, most having more concerns with who to support among them. Her hand started to tremble slightly, before she took a handful of very deep breaths. She started thinking, thinking about everything. Regardless of Lorgar, being a close friend, a person she trusted, and a person who saved her more times then anyone, she knew, that she had to support Witchie. In didn't even matter about personal feelings, her binding prevented her from acting against him, and she knew wouldn't be able to stop him. "I see..." "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I know that Lorgar is a friend of yours. If it helps, you have my sympathies for having to make such a hard choice." "Another person's blood on my hands. I suppose I'll have to discipline him when he comes back from the imperial city. Knowing Skarji... I assume, you know my connection to the court mage? "I make no claims to know what you are referring to, at the moment. Nor is it anything I desire to discuss. I'm sure I am stating the obvious, but I prefer to stay out of this conflict. The only reason I am advising you to take a side is to that it is ended earlier, for the benefit of everyone else. Who wins, or even who is involved, is none of my concern." "I'll arrange for soldiers to arrest Lorgar when he returns to the Imperial city." "If you consider that to be the best course of action," Darius got to his feet. "Well, that was an interesting chat, to be sure. Not what I expected, but perhaps that is for the better. Now, Your Majesty, I bid you goodnight. I'd like to retire for the night." "Goodnight, count." Dales chugged her remaining glass, before pouring another one for herself. As if to say she was staying. ** Exiting the palace, Darius had to admit that, whatever had happened to the new Empress, she was a much better person for the throne than her father, thought that was hardly something to be proud of on her end. What remained to be seen was what she would do in the years to come.

Gracchus, Theodore The Laughing Fox Evening Gracchus strode into the Fox, his black leather riding boots covered in mud. Leaves stuck to the bottoms, leftovers from his woodland outing. He began to step onto the tavern floor when a loud voice stopped him in his tracks. Ena, the ever sarcastic and derisive barmaid, was the origin of the outburst. "Don't you DARE! Just because you are the owner's fiancée doesn't mean you can just waltz in here and track your muddy boots everywhere!" Gracchus was frozen mid step, and watched as every patron, few as they were, turn their heads towards him. He quickly backtracked, taking his boots off and carrying them across the floor. His socks muffling his footsteps. Up the stairs he went, softly as before, placing the mud spattered boots in a wash bin located in the bathroom. The slightly embarrassed general passed his mother's room, peeking in to see her already asleep. The next stop was Catia and his shared bedroom, Gracchus having sold his apartment and moved into the Fox temporarily. The door swung open, brusquely waking Catia who had fallen asleep at a desk, busy as ever. After jerking awake, she dusted off the cobwebs of sleep, and said, "This wedding is a lot of work. I've had to rearrange the whole seating ever since Lorgar left. Now it'll just be Milly, so I'll have to pair her up with Tullius unfortunately. Poor gal." Gracchus sauntered over, placing his hand gently on her back as he began massaging. "Couldn't you pair her with your friend, Erina?" Catia nodded, thinking about the seating still. "That could work. I'll have them in front of Ena and her husband on the left side, with your mom sitting besides Tullius on the right. She'll keep him in line. And if Dales comes, then she can sit in front of them on the right. Overall, I think that's settled." Gracchus continued massaging, listening intently as he wanted the seating just right, so as to not cause any problems. "Now that we have that settled, I think it's time we worry less about the wedding and more about what we are going to do tonight." The husband-to-be lifted up the back of her shirt, moving his calloused hands across Catia's bare skin as he slowly rubbed lower, lower, and lower still till his hands were right above her hips. Thumbs moving in little circles, the rest of his fingers reached around to caress the sides of her body as well. Caria spun around, grabbing his hands and guiding him as e walked backwards to the bed. She pushed him on, a gentle nudge that wouldn't have done anything had he not played along. She walked up to him, sitting on his lap, their faces a hair's breadth apart. Catia leaned toward his ear, her voice barely a whisper. "I would love to dear, but there happens to be a visitor waiting on you in the lounge." Finishing her confession, she kissed him on the cheek, close to the ear, and again, slowly moving towards his lips. The last peck landed just to the left of his mouth, and as he anxiously awaited the parting present. Instead she walked backwards off his lap, pulling his arms up and pushing him out the door, too shocked to stop her. As it shut, Gracchus heard "Hurry back," and then she was gone. Downcast, Gracchus walked over to the lounge to meet this visitor. He swung open the door to find the large Breton who was staying at the tavern. Theodore stood, bottle in each hand, browsing the liquor cabinet. In the right hand was a bottle of spiced wine, in the left a bottle of whiskey. Both were uncorked, and Theo took a swig of each. "What are you doing?" Gracchus asked, exasperated. "Sampling, of course. Quite the selection. Probably gained from skimping our in serving to the patrons. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about," Theodore set the bottles down, replacing the corks. Both generals took a seat, Gracchus on the couch and Theodore on the love-seat. Gritting his teeth, Gracchus pushed out, "So, what do you really want? Besides sampling my alcohol that is." Theodore pulled out a flask, taking a legitimate swig of the burning whiskey. "Aw, it's been known for a while that you are the Imperial Ambassador to Hammerfell. I too have to travel that direction, as I am going back to Camlorn. Seems my father-in-law is on his deathbed. I thought we could travel together, if you don't mind." Gracchus nodded, listening to the Breton talk. "I don't see why we couldn't. It makes sense, and there is no reason for you to travel alone. And being a noble affords you certain privileges, so whether I decided to allow it or not I'm sure you could pull strings to get a spot on the caravan. Better I save time and let you on. Will that be it?" Gracchus rose after asking the questions, pouring a glass of the spiced wine downing half of it. He needed it to tolerate the Lord's presence. "Good man, good. No need to stall, I like that." Theodore was about to stand, placing his hands on the couch to lift himself, when he noted the map and army markers on the coffee table. "What's this? Working something, I see." Gracchus, back in his seat, gave a slight nod. "Yes, just thinking over what the Thalmor might do next. Anticipating." "You have that advantage, having faced them twice in your lifetime. Once in the Great War and once again in Skyrim, correct?" "That is a benefit, true. What do you think of our Elven enemy?" Theodore cleared his throat, and took another gulp from the flask, before answering the question. "I think they've already begun preparing, amassing troops fortifying borders. It's only a matter of time really. That's partially why I came, to pledge Breton support for the upcoming war. Now, a question in return. Tell me of your experiences in Skyrim." Gracchus downed the remaining wine in his glass, wiping away the remnants with his sleeve. "We marched in, with the Elves, and set up camp at the fort in Pale Pass. Marius defected, so I took control. Well, as much as I could with the Thalmor around. They are, above all else, ruthless. It's something you don't see very often, they hide it well, lying and scheming the entire time you talk to them. I thought I had friend, or at least someone I could trust, and he goes and tortures Baldur Red-Snow, leaving him to die. I met with him, and Baldur rightly called me a coward, shaming me, asking why I didn't attack them then and there. He was right of course, but I was stubborn, too bull headed to right the ship. Soon after, Tullius came, and it finally convinced me to do it. Looking back, I could've saved so many lives, wasted souls, if only I'd done it sooner. But we did it, capturing their leader, executing him, and trapping their army between ours and the Nords'. After that, peace was settled, they took the pass after we left. There was no use in arguing over it, and I thought of it as a parting present. That's it really." Theodore listened intently, taking mental notes as Gracchus regaled him with the story of Skyrim. "Thank you for sharing that. You hear so many different things, some people saying you sided with them out of desperation, some saying it was accidental. It's good to finally know the truth. It's people like you and all the other generals that'll win this next war. Experience is the greatest teacher, and you lot have the most." Theodore rose, stretching out his hand. "Thank you for letting me browse your liquor and the story. And the trip, of course. I'll be here, so just let me know when you leave." Gracchus shook the large man's hand, both grasping in a firm manner. "It's no problem, really. It was nice to sit down and talk to someone about Skyrim. Brings back too many memories for some, and others couldn't stand to hear it. I'll be seeing you." Theodore nodded and left, closing the door silently behind him. Gracchus followed, making sure to be just as quiet. He opened the door to his bedroom, expecting to find Catia fast asleep. Instead, he was greeted by his wife to be sprawled out on the bed, dressed only in her underclothes. "So, mister Lord General, how ready to go to sleep are you?" Catia said with a smile. Gracchus returned the grin. "Not that ready." Advancing towards the bed, Gracchus stripped down, only to find her underclothes flung at him. "Hurry up..." she said temptingly, and hurry he did.

Velan Quintus, Goblin Tim- Fort Ash, Day Velan awoke, feeling tired as ever. The recruits took more out of him than any battle ever did. Maybe it was because they weren't as exciting. Or maybe it was the long trek back from the cave. He longed to be out clearing more problems, but it was not to be. Orders were orders after all. Velan wasn't one to defy a superior. Thinking of superiors, Velan remembered that he was supposed to report to the Fort Commander when he awoke. To discuss plans for Goblin Tim. Velan was confident he would be sent to the Imperial City, where he wouldn't be killed. Or Velan had convinced himself. This will work out. He put on his armor, and made his way into the commander's office. "Commander." "Velan. I was expecting you. Sit down, we've got something to discuss." "That we do. I'm assuming you are referring to Goblin Tim." "Indeed. We can't hold him here, he's a nuisance. Not from a disciplinary standpoint. Rather he's just a task I don't need to be handling. So we are going to have to move him. To be quite honest, I'm still not sure how you managed to get him here." "I figured as much. So where do you want me to send him?" "Skingrad. They will put him to death there. Take the strain off of everyone." Velan's broad shoulders dropped at the commander's cold statement. He had originally thought of the same thing. But on the trip back, he had become a little attached to the poor man. He didn't even know what he was doing. Killing was okay to him. How could he be punished for a crime he wasn't aware he committed? That wasn't for him to decide unfortunately. "I... I see. I'll get it done immediately." "Good. That's all I needed to tell you. Have a good rest of the day." "Alright sir. I'll try," Velan said, muttering the last part so the commander didn't hear him. He reluctantly made his way down to the prison, where Goblin Tim was locked up. "Tim," Velan said, motioning for the man to come closer. Goblin Tim had been clicking his fingers together to pass the time. He looked up at Velan, his human captor. The one who didn't kill me. Tim rose to his feet and came to the bars. "What?" "Like I told you before, we are sending you to the city. To be judged." Luckily Velan never told Tim he would be spared. Just that he would be judged. And he never told him what the Imperial City looked like. But he still felt like he was deceiving him. It was terrible. Velan felt as if all of his strength had been sapped. "So I'm going to get you some nice things today. Before you go. For good luck. If you could have anything to eat, what would it be?" Tim's eyes widened, and he felt his mouth water at the thought of getting whatever he wanted to eat. "Boar!" he practically shouted. "Bring Tim boar!" Normally, that would take a day or two to get. Luckily, there was a hunter just outside the fort with a boar. Velan would go buy it. Out of his own pocket of course. The commander obviously wouldn't. "I can do that. Anything else? Deer? Elk? Cow?" Velan wasn't sure if Tim knew beef was cow meat. Tim licked his lips. "All!" He figured as much. It was going to be a good day for that hunter. That much was sure. Velan wondered if Tim had ever had decent cooking. Probably not. Although Velan did enjoy something about a natural meal. He didn't ask about vegetables, figuring Tim probably didn't care for them. "Sure thing. It will be a good dinner, won't it?" What is "dinner"? Must mean food. Tim nodded his head vigorously. "Yes yes! Good dinner!" "Yes. I'll be seeing you later to give you your food. Bye Tim." Tim continued to lick his lips as Velan walked off. He wasn't so sure about going to this "city" to be "judged", but for now, all that he really was concerned with was getting some good food. The rest could wait for later. Velan left the room with a heavy heart. He had never felt bad about executing a Legion decision before. It was a new feeling, one he had never wished to feel. Did that mean he thought his superior was wrong? He couldn't decide. That's why the commander made the decision, not him. He was about to leave the fort when he was stopped by Thorek. "Sir, where are you going?" "I'm going out to buy some meat from that hunter." "May I ask for what?" "I promised the prisoner one last good meal before I shipped him to the city." "And the commander agreed to pay for it?" "No. I'm paying for it out of my own pocket." "I don't mean to seem rude, but why would you do that for a prisoner. You don't owe him anything. Why show compassion to such a ignorant killer. Besides, he isn't smart enough to understand a promise anyways." Velan approached the Quaestor and looked straight into his eyes. "I don't have to explain myself to you, but I will. The day I'm above showing compassion to another human just because of their ignorance is the day I will hang up my boots. And just because he doesn't understand a promise, doesn't mean I don't. I'm a man of my word. Whether I'm dealing with a prisoner or a friend. I'll be back Thorek." Thorek was understandably caught off guard by Velan's reply. "Y...Yes sir. Chores for the recruits?" "Up to you." Velan headed out to find the hunter with the meat. As time went by, Tim grew more and more anxious. He began pacing around his cell, but that didn't help. Finally, he headed over to the bars and leaned on them. When will the torture begin? He wondered. They haven't even tried yet. Maybe the food was a lie. Maybe they only want my hopes up! "What are you staring at?" Tim blinked. He realized that while he was deep in thought, his eyes had been staring off towards the human guarding his cells. The man may have been his guard, but Tim was not frightened by him. Velan was stronger than Tim, but that was why he was the leader. This man was nothing. "Tim stare at ugly human." "What? You're kidding right?! You don't look like you've ever even had a bath!" "Tim still stare at ugly human." The guard frowned. He wasn't going to let some prisoner talk to him like that. Especially a crazy one who had no room to talk. "Say one more word little man, and I'll make you regret it." What is "regret?" Tim shook his head. It didn't matter. This human clearly was one of the more stupid ones, and wasn't worth the effort of insulting. "You not smart. Not talk to you anymore." "Seriously?!" The guard couldn't believe that, of all people, this looney was calling him out for being unintelligent. He grabbed his club from where it had been leaning on the wall and walked over to Tim's cell. "I said not to say another word. You asked for this." The guard had opened Tim's cell and swung the club down at him. Tim managed to jump back and avoid it, but when his back hit the wall, he saw another blow, aimed for his left leg come in more swiftly than he could dodge. There was a sick crunching noise when the club struck his leg. "Aaaargh!" Tim fell to the ground and scooted himself to the corner of the cell, away from the bigger man. Velan had returned from his trip to the hunter. He had given the meat to the cook. Should be ready in a couple hours he said. That was a while ago. Wouldn't be long now. In the meantime, he would visit Tim again. As he walked towards the cell, he heard a loud thud. He rushed towards the cell, weapon drawn. He was appalled by what he saw. A guard was hitting Tim, and had apparently gotten him pretty good. Velan ran up behind the man, and threw him back against the wall. "Knock it off. Now! Are you okay Tim?" Velan turned back towards the guard, who was grabbing his shoulder. "You had better have a damn good explanation soldier. A truthful one too. You don't want to lie to me. I'm more than willing to put you in here." Velan dragged the guard by his shoulder to the outside of the cell, waiting for a response. The guard looked at Velan fearfully, then back at the injured man in the cell. He knew he'd messed up. "The- The little bastard kept insulting me." Velan shook his head. "At least you were honest. But by the look in your eyes, you understand your conduct was absolutely unacceptable. For that, there will have to be repercussions. In the meantime, grab me a medic. And then report back here. Understood?" "Y- yes sir!" The soldier hurried out of the room, intent not to further anger his CO. Velan watched as the guard left, then turned his attention to Tim. "Are you alright? I'm sorry about that. He is in trouble." Goblin Tim clutched his leg. He tried to stretch it out, but quickly learned that that only made it hurt worse. He looked up at Velan when he spoke. "Let me kill." Velan sighed. "That's not how it works here. If it did, I would have killed you. Remember?" Tim frowned and grumbled something inaudible in the goblin tongue, then looked back at Velan. "Where food?" "Ready soon. In fact, it should be ready when the medic comes." Tim grumbled again. This time, it was out of annoyance. He was hurting pretty badly, but pain was something he was used to. His annoyance was at the fact that spending so much time among nothing but humans meant hearing a lot of words he didn't know. He wanted to ask what a medic was, but decided against it. He'd been asking a bunch of questions lately, and having experienced being on the other side, Tim knew that prisoners who ask too many questions are likely to eventually get set on fire. So, determined not to be set on fire, Tim simply nodded in acknowledgment. "Good. Hopefully our medic will be able to fix up your leg. He is pretty good. Should be here pretty soon. Unless that soldier is piddling around. So, other than this, has he been nice?" Velan knew healing his leg didn't mean much. But his men caused it, and they would fix it. Even if the pain relief would be a bittersweet release in light of things to come. "No." Tim wasn't lying. The prisoner had not been nice. Nor had he been mean for that matter. The man hadn't really spoken until Tim stared at him. "Really? Was he mean like today? If so, you should have told me when I visited you the other times. I don't let my guards do this." "No." Velan was slightly confused. He wasn't sure what was left. Then it finally dawned on him. At least he hoped he understood. "So he was just alright until today?" "Yes." Tim said. "He do nothing. Then he attack today." He chuckled a bit. "I call him ugly." "I see. You probably shouldn't have said that. But he had no right to do what he did. And for that I am sorry." As Velan spoke, the guard returned with the medic behind him. His eyes were downcast, but the way his brow furrowed made it obvious that he was still angry. "Here's the medic sir." "Good. Medic, assist the prisoner would you. It appears his leg is injured. Tim can show you which one hurts. In the meantime, this soldier and I are going to grab the food." He motioned for the soldier to follow. Tim nodded and pointed to his leg. "You heal?" The medic rolled his eyes, but a faint smile could be seen on his lips. "Yes. I heal." As the medic began tending to Tim's wounded leg, Velan and the prison guard made their way out of the room. As they exited the room Velan turned toward the guard, who still seemed angry. "What are you mad about?" "Uhh..." The guard looked unsure if he should say. "Permission to speak freely sir?" "Yes. And from now on, remember that you have that permission from me unless told otherwise. Don't take that as permission to talk back to me though." The guard nodded, but he still looked somewhat unsure on whether or not he should say what he was thinking. Velan was not an unfair leader, but that didn't mean that it was a good idea to piss him off further. Even most Nords look up to him. "I... I just don't see why you are taking up for that scum. The man is crazy, and he would kill any of us if it were in his power. He's no better than a goblin, so I don't see the problem with putting him in his place. Especially with the way he'd talked to me." Velan understood the guards complaint, but he had his reasons for sticking up for Tim. "I figured as much. I'll tell you why I must stick up for him. If I were to let you beat him at your discretion, where would I draw the line? Who is and who isn't "scum"? For that reason I can't allow you to abuse any prisoner without a legitimate reason, regardless of what you or I think about them. Do you understand?" The guard hesitates a moment, then reluctantly nodded, making it clear to Velan that in his mind Tim's insults were reason enough. "I understand. But I did warn him first." "I understand. But your punishment was unjustified. If you're that mad about being called ugly, make him skip a meal. Don't break his leg. There's a difference between punishment and abuse. You need to learn it. Now go help Thorek with the recruits the rest of the day. You're prison guard duty is over for now." "Yes sir." The recruit turned and headed off down another chamber towards the courtyard. Velan shook his head, and then continued on to the cook. He grabbed the food and headed down to the cell. He arrived, seeing that the medic had finished with Tim. "How are you feeling Tim?" Tim looked up at Velan from where he sat on his little straw bedding. "Tim better. Bring food?" "Yes. I brought food," Velan said as he slid the food into Tim's cell. "Hope you like it." As soon as the tray was within his reach, Tim snatched it up and began stuffing his face. After his third bite, Tim's eyes rolled back, and he lied widely. "Ohohohoho Tim like!" "I'm glad. Enjoy it." It may very well be your last warm meal.

Prisoner, Unknown man, Bruma prison, Night, The prisoner sat silently in the dark cell, covered in dirt and other trash. His arms were bound by shackles. He had a ragged beard, and very messy black hair. His fingernails and toes nails were dark brown, due to the filth. He had medium height, and a sturdy, but not massive, build. His eyes were light grey, and deep. He had one scar on his lip and another on his forehead. The cell was relatively small, had no furniture of any kind, not even a bedroll to sleep on. The floor was slightly wet, with some straw here and there. A handful of rats. loathsome in size stuttered about, looking for crumbs and other dead rats to feast on. This kind of the cell was reserved for the worse of the worse, the demons of society. The prisoner, brooding in silence, was a demon. A demon with a history of blood, violence and death. The only thing that satisfied the prisoner was the sound of gold falling into his hand, and more important, the sound of a blade slicing across flesh.The prisoner enjoyed his chosen profession more then anything in the world. The prisoner's chosen motto was "Mucrone meo metit promiscue", "My blade reaps indiscriminately ", which he lived by. As he rotted away in the darkness, the prisoner contemplated his entire life, which was simply murder after murder. Suddenly, the sound of foot steps assailed the prisoners mind, as did his beloved sound of gold being exchanged. More footsteps echoed , which were getting closer and closer, until he knew someone else was in the room. However, his vision betrayed him, as his luminous grey eyes could not detect a presence. As if the abyss itself was whispering to him, a dark and cold voice entered his ears, "You are rather calm for a man on death row..." Said the voice, which was masculine, but...it didn't sound human, it was primal yet very quiet like whisper. The prisoner raised hid eyebrow before responding to the voice, "I've bedded death my entire life, no reason to fear it." The prisoner's comment made the voice chuckle, which would make a non-killer spine tingle, as if the chill of winter was upon them. "Indeed, only a weakling fears the cold embrace of death. You are obviously not a weak man." Said the voice, continuing with "Of course, I knew that before you answered me." The prisoner's face spotted a cruel grin, stretching out slightly, and answering with "You know of me then, dark voice?" The "dark voice" responded with a slight chuckle and "Yes, I know of you Lucieanes Brutnarius, second son of Lord Valitierie Brutnarius, born 3E 234, "murdered" 3E 250. Former Assassin of the Crimson Scars." Lucieanes smiled, revealing his fangs "Scared of being in a room with a spawn of Molag Bal, a vampire?" Said the vampire playfully, which caused the dark voice to say "I might have been, if I didn't have a silver Shortsword tucked away." The sound of footsteps started again, and faded away, the vampire said "Are you the relative of someone I might have killed over the centuries? The dark voice laughed again, "No i'm not. I'm interested in you." The vampire asked the voice curiously "Interested about what? I'm a simple blade for hire" "Simple is not the way I would describe you. They call you "The Reaper in the dark", you've killed hundreds, if not thousands of people over your centuries long career of murder. You operate without a code of honor or principles, and is willingly to take any life for gold. You've even killed multiple children " Whispered the voice, it continued "I need people of your skill, and ruthlessness.." The centuries old vampire chuckled, before gesturing toward the metal bars, , "Unless you can arrange for me to get out of here, I wont be much use to anyone." The dark voice said "Even I couldn't arrange that...but I can leave a gift or two and make things easier for your escape." Three objects were pushed into the cell, a splendid ebony dagger, a coin purse, and a leather bound book, filled with maps of Cyrodlili, as well as a key being shoved into the vampire's bound hand, The voice said, " Use that to unbound your shackles. I arranged for a guard with similar build to deliver your food tonight, kill him with the dagger, feed on him, switch into his armor and take his keys. That book will lead you to the great forest, inside the forest is a cave, it's marked on the map on page 30. Knock on the cave four times and say "I am a dog of war, let me feast on the mud.... You wont regret it." And with that, the sound of footstep emerging away from the cell were heard. the vampire called out to his rescuer, "I never got your name." The sounds of footsteps stopped, and he could hear the voice one last time, "Call me...Saladin." ************** Nordic Woman, Unknown man, Forest near the Bruma Border Night, Blood stained the abandoned cabin, as rain thundered down onto the roof and small windows , accompanied by the blue and purple flashes of lighting Just ten minutes ago, the room was filled with agonizing screams, and the sound of metal scrapping across the flesh. In the corner, lightly singing the folk song "Crimson rabbit", was a Nordic woman. She was of medium height, long blonde hair, medium build, and had a gorgeous face...if it weren't for the three hideous and large scars that lined her face. She herself was covered in the crimson liquid, and was currently bathing her flesh in water, she scrubbed her nails clean, as well as her lustrous hair. Candles helped illuminate the cabin, which was of small size and decent in terms of quality. In the middle of the room, was the mutilated corpse of woman tied to a chair. The stiff had medium length brown hair, though you couldn't tell by looking at her in this state if she was pretty in life, to many cuts and marks adored her body to make a proper identification of her age and beauty. Beside the chair, was a stool with a metal tray, filled with all sorts of blades of various built and size, the tools of a killer. The nordic woman continued her song, with a melodic-like voice, as she scrubbed herself clean, washing away tonight's sin, or so she told herself. She was just about finished putting on her clothing, when a dark voice suddenly entered the room, "... Very...artistic. But not really my cup of tea." Said the voice. Before the woman could properly react, and spot the owner of the voice, the candles went out in a instant, cloaking the room in darkness with only the lighting to occasion light up parts of the room. Spending so much time in darkness had advantages, as her vision adjusted to the dark faster then a regular person. She scanned the cabin looking for anything out of the ordinary. There...was no one with her. The voice echoed once again, but this time she could tell it's location "You have good eye's, I know you adjusted in half the time a normal person would." The woman's ears caught the voice, before turning around to spot it's location. Unlike the rest of the cabin...this part of darkness looked...concentrated as if the shadows were drawn to it. She smirked, before drawing a knife and throwing it into the shadow with surprising speed and force. The sound of blade hitting flesh, wasn't heard, instead the sounds of someone catching it. She could hear the dark voice laugh. "Good. You came to the conclusion I was cloaking myself in darkness. Smart" With a "Whoosh" the dagger came flying out of the Miasma, embedding itself a few centimeters away from the female ear. The voice itself sounded...off. As if it wasn't human. The voice continued, "Very good throw. But misplaced." The woman, whose heartbeat started to pick up, muttered "What do you want with me?" the voice chuckled before responding "You are Certi "Fair-face", assassin, correct?" While still very suspicious, Certi's curiosity was piqued "Aye, that I am. And how do you know of me?" Certi drew another one of her knives, just in case. She slowly made her way to the wall to the back of the room, the voice said "I know much about you, Miss Fairface. I know what happened to you in Amberguard on your birthday, I know your..."unique" style of how you deal with your female targets, and know that there's a dozen imperial huntsmen outside with there bow's drawn waiting for you to make your exit." That caused Certi's face to adopt a shocked and surprised expression, and for her heart beat to quicken. Before she could say anything, the voice continued "Don't worry, i'll drawn them away from you." The sound of objects hitting the ground assailed her ears, three to be specific. A purse of coins, a book, and a redguard styled knife. She carefully picked the three objects up. The dark voice spoke again "Use that book to find...sanctuary. A cave. Knock Three times and say "I am a dog of war, let me sniff the mud. You wont regret it. I need people of your skill and...art." Before the "man" could leave, Certi asked a question "What's your name" "Saladin." Was the simple response, as the door slammed open, and the sounds of arrow fire and dagger could be heard under the thunder and rain.

Eduard Laenius- Imperial City, Arena District, Day Eduard approached the front of the Arena, where the man who accepted bets eagerly awaited. "So, you're here to see the Grand Champion in action?" "That would be correct. Is there an entry fee of sorts?" "Well, you must place a bet." "Give me 25 on the Grand Champion." "Will do," the man said as Eduard handed him a small pouch of gold. He then entered the spectator portion of the Arena, and began to look for an open seat. Sure is crowded. Oh well. At least I won't be here long. He continued until he finally found an open seat. In the other seat across the table, there was a bald man sporting quite the mustache. He was quite large. By the smell of him, Eduard almost wondered if the man ran on alcohol. It will have to do. "Mind if I sit here?" Theodore sat in the grand stand among the populace, far from the seating he was accustomed to back in his native land. He had just put away his flask when an Imperial with black hair, longer than Theodore's had ever been, approached asking for a seat. "That's fine with me!" he said quite boisterously. "This your first time at the arena?" Eduard slid into the empty seat, and smiled. A fake smile, of course. "Well I've been here a few times. Not a regular though. Heard the Grand Champion was going today, so I decided to check it out. Make a quick profit too. He's unbeatable I've heard. You come here often?" Theodore brought the flask to his lips, tilting it backwards so the liquid inside fell forward. He didn't drink it however, istead faking a swallow before inserting the stopper. "No, but I've been here before. I don't know of the Grand Champion, as the last time I was here there was a different champion, and the time before that another one. No man is unbeatable, it just takes the right match to finally do him in. Although I don't think that match will come for a while if he's that good." Eduard watched as the man appeared to take a drink. Although he knew he didn't actually drink. It was a trick Eduard knew all too well. Although he usually used it on women. With pretty good success too. He didn't say anything about it, nor did he acknowledge it in any way. "Right. Even if he is never truly beaten, old age will claim him. Until then, we get to enjoy the show. Oh, any idea what he's up against today?" Theodore started to answer, stroking his thick brownnmustache as he did, when an announcement interrupted him. "Goooood people of the Imperial City, welcome to the Arena!!" The magically-enhanced voice of the announcer boomed out across the stadium, easily overwhelming the volume of the crowd. "You've come to watch the Grand Champion battle some of Tamriel's fiercest creatures! Who will survive, this week's epic battle of combatant versus beast?? Let's find out! Loweeeer the gates!!!" The gates on either end of the arena opened. Coming from the one side, which was typically the Yellow team's bloodworks, stepped a massive, ferocious looking minotaur carrying a jagged warhammer. Before it could move more than a few feet, a large white sabre cat, imported from Skyrim no doubt, leapt ahead to the center of the arena, where it began pacing back and forth, waiting for its prey to come closer.. From the other side, where the Blue Team bloodworks was, calmly walked a very strong looking Redguard. His face was hidden behind a dark mask, and he wore the black and red arena armor that had been the traditional light set given to Grand Champions for centuries. As the man known to thousands as The Eastern Blade calmly walked forward, he drew one of his two slender ebony longswords and pointed it at the crowd, causing an uproar of cheers from that section. Theodore turned to his neighbor. "It seems he has his work cut out for him then. This should be good!" "That it should," Eduard said, closely eying the arena below. Theodore leaned his seat back, thoroughly attempting to enjoy the proceedings. The Eastern Blade, or Kaye, as he actually preferred to be called, slowly walked towards the center of the arena. He was staring at the sabre cat, but keeping an eye on the far more dangerous beast approaching behind it. He knew that the cat was trained not to attack the minotaur, and that it had been bred solely to slaughter human combatants. How they managed to keep the minotaur on a leash though, he had no idea. Upon reaching the central ring, Kaye stopped. The sabre cat had stopped as well, and was now watching him intently. He was as close as he was going to get without enticing the best to pounce at him. Kaye smiled when the beast rose from its crouch and began circling around to his left. He wasn't so worried about losing this battle. He'd been up against far worse. Kaye's job was to entertain the crowd, and that meant making the fight interesting. Keeping an eye on the minotaur, which was picking up speed as it moved up on him from the right, Kaye began backing up to one of the four pillars around the inner ring. The saber cat began approaching him more directly, and Kaye stopped just a few feet short of the tall pillar. Wait for it. The minotaur, which was now moving at a full charge, would be the first to reach him. Kaye braced himself as the massive beast began swinging its hammer around in circles as it neared him. Wait for it... The Minotaur finally reached him, and it swung its hammer down at him with unexpected speed. Kaye, with a speed even greater than its, dodged to the right last second, and jumped at the beast's lowered arms, running up them and onto its shoulder. He grabbed ahold of one of the thrashing minotaur's horns with one hand, while he held onto his sword with the other. When the sabre cat closed in, he lept off of the minotaur, towards the pillar. While high in the air, he grabbed the chain hanging from the top of it and swung in a circle around it. When he came back around, his feet went straight into the minotaur's face, stunning and staggering the monster. Kaye used the kick to propel himself at the sabre cat, allowing the momentum along with gravity do his job and force his blade down into the northern beast's spine. It let out a loud roar, which ended abruptly as it collapsed to the ground. Kaye dislodged the sword with one hand while finally drawing his second with the other. He turned his back to the minotaur for a moment to raise both swords high in the air, drawing much love from the crowd. "Well that's something. He's damned good it seems," Theodore admired, his chair falling forward back on four legs. "That's for sure. Impressive really." Shame he has to die too. He's quite good at entertaining. After he felt that he'd kept his back turned long enough, Kaye spun around just in time to dodge another downward blow from the minotaur. He grinned as he danced around it, allowing the beast to swing on him several more times, each strike missing just like the ones before it. As he dodged, and occasionally deflected blows, Kaye saw dozens of potential openings on the creature, any one of which he could've exploited to end the fight without any trouble, but Kaye knew that the more entertaining this fight was, the more he'd be paid. So now he dodged, ducked, rolled and jumped around the beast, occasionally hitting it with quick and ultimately useless strikes that barely drew blood. Of course, the majority of the crowd wouldn't know this. Finally, after drawing the fight on for several more minutes than necessary, Kaye decided that it was time to move in for the kill. In a flashy display that he knew would bring him shame from every master he'd learned from, Kaye did a backflip away from one of the beast's great strikes, causing yet another outburst of cheers from the crowd at his narrow yet amazing dodge. Backing away a pretty good distance, Kaye held out each of his dark ebony blades to the ground. He drew an "x" in the dirt with his foot, challenging the minotaur to charge. The beast shot out puffs of dust from its nostrils. It definitely understood the gesture. Running its right hoof against the ground, the minotaur threw its head back and let out a terrifying roar before lowering its horns and charging. Kaye let out a roar of his own and charged straight back at the beast, holding his swords at his sides. The sound of Kaye's battle cry was barely audible over the bloodthirsty screams of the crowd. A minotaur's charge was something that even some of the bravest of men would cower from. Only The Eastern Blade was crazy enough to actually charge back. As the two beasts of the arena closed in on each other at full sprint, Kaye suddenly dropped to his knees, sliding between the minotaur's legs. As he passed under the beast, he leaned back, swords in hand, and sliced each of its legs. The minotaur, which had been charging as fast as it ever had, toppled forward and slid several feet on its face. Kaye rose up from his knees and calmly walked over to wear the now-lame beast laid. He stepped up onto its back and looked up to the crowd, closing his eyes and revealing for a moment in their cheers, and their screams to kill. To end the beast's life for good. When he felt that his moment was up, he put the tip of his sword to the back of the minotaur's neck, and closed his eyes, muttered his killing words, "May my blade send you home." and forced the black sword down, ending the creature's life. "Quite the fight. He seems to be a very skilled fighter. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to. Good day, stranger!" Theodore walked off, sweeping his cape behind him after a slight bow to his neighbor. Eduard said nothing as the man he had just met left the arena, instead offering a small nod of his head. Quite the fight indeed. Now, let's see how the Grand Champion celebrates his victory. He made his way out of the arena, to get in position for the next part of his day. After he'd had his fill of soaking in the cheers of the crowd, Kaye made his way down into the Bloodworks. He smiled as he was approached by his friend, a blue team Hero by the name of Teris. The Dunmer rarely left the arena district, and spent almost all of his time training. Kaye wasn't even sure that he'd ever seen him socialize with a noncombatant before. "Well done Kaye. I thought you'd lost your bleeding mind when you charged that minotaur." "Thanks." Kaye's grin was exposed as he took off his mask, which he handed to a waiting Imperial servant girl. He stopped at the Basin of Renewal, a large water bowl used by combatants to wash off after fights. It was said that any water poured into the old stone basin took on restorative properties that only those who'd recently spilled blood in the arena could feel. Most people saw it as a tale made up and carried on by the fighters, but Kaye, and any other who'd survived the arena knew that there was definitely something special about the water. Kaye began taking off his gauntlets. "You know, I think I'll talk to Janette about team versus creature matches. I wouldn't mind seeing how you deal with a minotaur lord. You and I can talk about it at the Feed Bag over a meal and a drink eh?" He held out his gauntlets for the servant to take, then plunged his hands into the cool, refreshing water. After letting his hands soak for a moment, Kaye brought them up and began washing his face. He noticed his friend wasn't answering. "Everything alright?" "Yeah... It's fine. I'm just gonna have to pass on that meal is all. Gotta train, ya know." Kaye chuckled and slugged Teris on the arm. "That all you do? Train? I mean, I train a lot, but sheesh, at least I know what it looks like outside this place. You sure?" The Dunmer looked like he wanted to say something, but then he just sighed. "Yeah, I'm sure." Kaye shrugged and headed to Janette to collect his pay. "Alrighty then. Come find me when you decide to lighten up a bit." After he'd been paid, Kaye left the Red Room and made his way outside. Eduard watched intently as his target exited the arena and made his way outside. And so we begin my unsuspecting contract. Eduard silently waded through the crowds, keeping a sharp eye on Kaye. He followed the Redguard, who was entertaining fans as he made his way to the Market District. Occasionally he would stop to talk to people, whom Eduard assumed to be friends of the Grand Champion. They said nothing interesting, only giving their praise to Kaye. Praise that was deserved, but largely unnecessary. Eduard continued to follow Kaye through his victory walk. Eventually Kaye ran into a Nord. He listened as they greeted each other, before going inside a nearby business. The Feed Bag. Eduard slipped inside, intent to see how things would progress. People parted ways for Kaye and his friend as they made their way to the usual table that they sat at. The Feed Bag was crowded today. It usually was after a big fight. Lots of spectators knew that Kaye often came here afterwards, and nobody wanted to miss a chance to see the Grand Champion up close. He was popular with the people, that much was obvious. He would smile and shake hands with strangers as he passed. He even let one little Imperial kid hold one of his swords, which probably made the boy's week. People stopped bothering Kaye when they finally reached their table, they knew that that a man like him would give plenty of opportunities to be seen in the future. Kaye flashed one last smile at the dissipating crowd before turning back to his friend, a Nordic woman named Lioda. She was from the Reach, and was one of the first people he'd met during his time in Skyrim. The two were as close as kin, and had been through alot together. They even were partners for a time, but overall that didn't work out. It didn't affect their friendship though, and when Kaye decided to head to Cyrodil to try his luck in the arena, Lioda came with him. "I think this old place would be closed down if it weren't for all the low standard celebrities like you that seem to be attracted to it." Kaye chuckled. It was true that the Feed Bag was for those with low standards. In fact, it was one of the cheapest and most poorly kept places to buy food in this city. It was also old. It had been around in the third era, supposedly being run by the same family. Kaye himself liked it. The food was crap, and the wood was rotted, but at there was a certain flair about the place that drew him in. This was where the lower-class ate. It was where few people with wealth like his would even allow themselves to be seen, and Kaye loved the idea of breaking that norm. When he became a regular, it drew in lots of people, and now the Feed Bag, despite their awful food and poor upkeep, are doing very well. "If I have such low standards, then what does that say about me hanging around you?" "Hey now, I never pretended like I was all high and mighty, did I mister Grand Champion?" By the amount of people in the building, it appeared that the public most likely knew Kaye was coming. That was further confirmed by their conversation. So, he's a regular. It appeared as if Kaye was pretty much keeping this dump afloat. Which wasn't a bad thing. Eduard came here many of times. They were cheap, and Eduard was stingy. Perfect match. It helped that less than desirable people frequented the place. Though that was years ago. He continued listening. The two friends continued to talk for a while. It was mostly just random friend talk that was useless to Eduard, but after about ten minutes, the unfamiliar name Kalendal Kirkham was mentioned, along with the title "Champion." "So you don't think that he will be a problem?" Kaye shook his head. "Not in the slightest." He waved a waiter over to refill his mug. "He is skilled, but I've gone up against worse. Even Tholin agrees, and has been trying to save his life by holding him back for now. The Blademaster is smart. He knows that Kalendal isn't ready to challenge me yet, and he seems to genuinely hate me for it. To be honest, I feel bad for the guy." "You feel bad for an angry elf that wants to kill you?" "What combatant doesn't dream of killing me? That doesn't mean that we have to hate each other until that time comes. I feel bad for him because he is bitter, and I know that the embarrassment of being told not to challenge me can only make that worse." "That's not too bad. He should be happy that he's even the Champion." "He more than earned it. He killed a lot more people to earn that title then one should. He joined at a bad time." There was a pause for a bit as a waiter brought them each their meals. It was obvious that the owners had tried to make the food at least appear appetising for their favorite customer. The fruits were only a week old, the bread wasn't all that crusty, and the venison chop looked like it actually had some seasonings on it. All-in-all, this was a king's meal to anyone who'd eaten at The Feed Bag. After taking a bite, Lioda spoke up again. "So Tholin isn't letting him fight you. Can he do that?" "Not officially, no. It's his right to challenge me, but Tholin has a way of insisting that you listen to what he says. Though our friend Kirkham is such an angry guy, I wouldn't be surprised if he ends up challenging me within the week despite." "And then you kill him?" "And then I kill him." Eduard almost laughed. Almost. But he had more respect than that. And more intelligence. Oh he's going to be more than you can handle, my friend. Or at least that's what the guards are going to say. I have to say, it makes me feel better that this other guy is a bitter man, completely incapable of beating Kaye fairly anyways. At least this way everyone will think he killed the man. Although, he'll be in jail. Knowing he didn't. Luckily my beds pretty comfy. And I'll sleep well with some gold in my pockets. I always do. He listened to see if they had anything else interesting to say. They ate in silence for a few minutes before, once again, Lioda broke it. "So did you hear about that Legion guy killed in the sewers recently?" "You mean the Stormcloak?" "What? No, I meant the Legionnaire. His funeral was here and everything!" "The only guy that's been killed in the sewers in the past month was a Stormcloak. It was even in the papers." The two continued their argument for a while, even after they were done eating. Though they said nothing else of any use for Eduard. After they'd finished arguing, Kaye finally left a gold bag that seemed bigger than necessary on the table, and they stood up to leave. Once they got out to the streets, the friends made their way south, following the city ring towards their shared home in the Talos Plaza District. Eduard went to follow them out, but decided to leave it be for the day. By the end of the day, he needed to find more out about Kalendal. Kaye was already figured out. Phase two was about to begin.

Lorgar Grim-Maw, Imperial City, Afternoon Lorgar strode threw his house. It was quite large, filled with ornate furniture, expensive books, and had a wonderful garden outside, it was the house you would expect a spymaster/duke and a countess to own. It was located in the newly restored Talos Plaza district, the wealthy part of the imperial city. Servants and maids busily attended their jobs and duties. One of them, a female imperial by the name Claudia, approached Lorgar. She did the customary bow, before saying to her master, "Milord, Countess Quentas told me to inform you that she would be out for the rest of the day. She's going shopping with her cousin who is visiting, she said she would be back by 11:00." Lorgar's muscle slightly tensed, and a slight sense of annoyance and sadness hit him. Damn it...i'm leaving at 9:00. Won't have time to say goodbye. Unless I-no. As much as Lorgar wanted to see Milly before he left, he just didn't have the luxury of a few hours to spare. He stroked his dark brown beard, before dismissing the maid. He went up the large flight of stairs, and entered his personal study. He took a seat on his oak desk, before taking out parchment and ink. When he finished writing the letter, he sealed it and scribbled "My Love" on the front. He left his study and, searched around the mansion for Claudia, before handing it to her, and giving her strict instructions to give it only to Milly. After that, he went around the mansion, saying goodbye to all the servants and maids and reminders to work hard when he was gone. Before he left the house, he got out of his usual outfit, and switched into his black military cloak and longcoat, and a set of dark chainmail to go underneath. He stuffed his purse with a respectful amount of septims, a few potions, and filled his pack with food, which he didn't need since he could go hunting in the wilderness to feed himself. Finally, he carried his ebony greatbow along with arrows, and his rune-blade Azidok on his back. As he left the door, he glanced behind for a instant, as if to contemplate if he should go, there was always the choice to forget about this, and to turn back. I have fought enough, done what I could, and I can now retire. I can live the rest of his life with Milly, and forget about everything. Raise a family- Lorgar stopped himself there, and walked out of his home and into the rain drenched streets, with the dark clouds looming above. He glanced to the side, to see two hooded figures, clad in the standard clothing of a civilian, minus the imperial swords and cowls they wore. He told the two figures, a man and a woman, "Watch her at all times." The two agents both saluted the major, before turning away and melting into the shadows of an alleyway. Lorgar himself proceeded to the main entrance of the imperial city, and eventually left from the massive gate. ************* Unknown to Lorgar, a hooded figure had been stalking him from the streets, with the assistance of an invisibility potion, and the sound of rain muffling his/her footsteps. The figure watched the spymaster leave, from a dark alleyway. Under the hood, a slight grin appeared. The figure turned away from the gate, and headed deeper into the alleyway, which seemed to go on forever. The rain continued to make the "drip drop" sound, as the person continued into the darkness, until she reached a dead end, a brick wall. The person took something out of the pack she wore, and rubbed it onto the wall, which miraculously faded...revealing an entryway. Inside the entryway, was a small room with a steel doorway, which was reinforced with steel. The figure knocked thrice, and uttered "The dawn shall wipe away the stain of the Stormcrow" The door, opened after about three seconds, a tall figure cloaked in the robes of a dominion justicar stood at attention. The figure, who by the person's voice, identified as a female, ask in an impatient tone, "Slidus, you know I can risk being seen around here, what do you want?" The person in the justicar robe, laughed arrogantly before responding, "I need to know the progress of the operation, is the "Empress" infatuated with you yet?" The girl chuckled, and a dark grin formed under her hood "Empress is too kind word for her, more like Harlot. Then yes. she really wants to get in my pants. Things are going according to plan." She continued to smile, "Even better, I just got visual confirmation of the spymaster leaving, and my sources tell me he won't be back for a month or so." That caused the justicar to grin, "Excellent news. Empress Dales doesn't have her watch dog around, meaning shes far more vulnerable." The justicar placed his hands to his hips before saying "We should take advantage of this, send someone to take care of him when he's isolated. Deal with his wife as well" The girl nodded her head in agreement, "I'll make the arrangements...and send you word once i'm ready to strike." And with that, the figure put down her hood. Revealing deep sea like eyes, extremely long silver hair, very pale skin, and a slight smile, "Long live the dominion..." Homunal Akney, also known as "Nami" Muttered .

Maggie, Darius, Samuel Imperial City afternoon Trailed by royal guards, Maggie stopped briefly at a grisly scene outside the palace gates. Street cleaners were busy cleaning up the blood on the paving stones, and in a pile Maggie saw torn and burned copies of her books. Shaking her head, she walked on towards her house in the Elven Gardens District. At the gate, she dismissed the royal guard. Her front door guards appeared nervous. "What is it?" she asked them. "Lord Darius waits within." Maggie pursed her lips. Her guards weren't to admit anyone but Samuel, but of course they would understand that her father was outside all rules. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, she entered, and went towards the study, where she guessed he would be waiting. "Magdela, it is a pleasure to see you again." Darius sat in a chair by a bookshelf, with one leg crossed over the other. Resting partially on his raised leg and partially in his hands he held a book, but by the looks of it it was not from her collection. Far too old, with strange symbols on the cover she has never seen before. He didn't look up, but his eyes' increased rate of movement suggested that he needed to find an appropriate place to end whatever he was reading. Something that was confirmed when he suddenly closed it and got to his feet. He was a half head taller than Samuel, but otherwise they appeared similar in the way of brothers. His skin tone and hair color was the same, though Darius had short hair and a goatee rather than Samuel's clean shave and medium length. His nose was also different, looking like it was broken once. "I am glad to see that you've done well for yourself, despite recent circumstances," he held out his arms, inviting her to a hug. The last thing anyone would expect, if they only knew him by description. Maggie was wary at the friendly tone, and only stood off at a distance, hands folded in front of her in the posture of attention she was used to adopting with her father. She stared at his outstretched arms and remained where she was. "I've done my best." That was never good enough before, and she doubted very highly that it was now. This was a trick. Affection was bait, the cruelest kind. He didn't seem surprised at her reaction, if one would judge by the short time it took for him to decide that he didn't want to play the waiting game. He almost seemed... pleased? No, that had to be an illusion. He was never pleased when people went against what he wanted them to. Then the question of what he actually wanted her to do came up. "I see that recent events has not changed you, much as I expected. I will have to talk to Samuel about that soon. Where is he? I heard he was annoyed by Jem while he stayed here. And what happened during this meeting with a Vigilant? Apologies, I have been preoccupied and haven't been able to get on top of these incidents, and without Samuel available to fill me in... I'm sure you'll understand." She understood that he already knew the answers to her questions and this was a test of her honesty, perhaps her acuity in understanding events' significance. Maggie crossed to a chair and sat, her outward picture relaxed. No normal person would notice her tension. "Jem was a boor. He draws far too much attention to us, for the wrong reasons. I believe Samuel made that clear to him. As for where Samuel is now, probably drawing off the hunters. I assume you know that his plan was for me to put their trail onto Maurice. It worked, as far as I can tell. They've made no further attempt to contact me, though I am sure they haven't given up scrutinizing me as well." Maggie kept her eyes downcast as she spoke. "This might come as a surprise to you, but no; I didn't know the specifics of Samuel's plans regarding the Hunters." Following her example, Darius sat down again. His tone was calm, but now he had raised an eyebrow. "So Samuel decides to take your place among the Hunted. Interesting. I'll need to know why, as you understand it." Maggie glanced up briefly. "Protecting me. Protecting your interests. So I assume. He's my watcher, he doesn't confide in me his reasons." Bitterly she reflected that Darius was worried about losing Samuel instead of her. The next question was dangerous, but curiosity drove her. "Do you know how they settled on me to begin with?" "Are those the answers he gave you? Understandable, but this is very out of his usual way of handling these things. Or maybe he became desperate? As I understand it, this Hunter acted much faster than he would have anticipated..." The last couple of sentences were halfway mumbled to himself. A bad habit he had, of sorts. He'd never let anything of actual importance get out that way, but it still allowed people a slight glimpse into what he might be thinking about. And it signaled that he didn't feel threatened in any way. "I know, but I have already responded to it with appropriate means to suit the transgression." Curiosity flashed in Maggie's eyes, but it was useless to press him. "This one is smarter than most, it seems," she agreed. "Very determined. He is exercising a personal vendetta, not just duty." There was a pause, and her fingers drummed on the chair arm. Finally, she said, "Father, about Julia Crescius. Was that really necessary? My books are selling well. There was nothing untoward in this one." "You are asking... if it was necessary?" Darius leaned forward and folded his hands. He talked slowly, with a low voice. "Your book led to a Hunter starting to investigate you, who now Hunts my best man and it has your every movement a potential risk in the near future. You also told me you didn't intend for this book to be something that could be tied to you. How could it not be necessary, if you apparently cannot properly control the message in your writing?" "That was in the past. I..." Maggie shook her head in frustration. They had argued about it to no end before she was sent off to High Rock, but it was apparent nothing had changed, and the hunters had only vindicated him. Still, she was desperate. She could write, but it wasn't enough. It was the public acclaim she craved. Even if she had to grovel... "What if I let someone preview the manuscripts first? Samuel, anyone...?" "You know how much I hate this discussion, Magdela." The simple words struck a chord of desolation in her that was deeply ingrained. She had a memory of herself as a little girl locked in her room, with no human contact for weeks, mad with loneliness and fear of abandonment. Darius would visit her and even though she was terrified of him, even though she knew that he was the reason she was being punished, she would run into his arms and beg him to stay. That had been his plan all along. To disappoint him was to die, or worse, to be alone. Feeling like that little girl again, Maggie swallowed and nodded. "I'm sorry. You know that my writing means a great deal to me. I never meant for all of this to happen." Pushing down her revulsion against her own meekness, she asked, "How is Mother? I can never answer all her letters, I hope she understands." Anna wrote to her daughter every week whether there was anything to say or not. Maggie rarely replied. "Your mothe... Anna... is as she has been. I am sad to say there is no change. But I do what I can to make her understand you cannot always reply. I don't need her worse than she is." He hesitated for a moment. "I... know how important it is for you, to write. And someday you might write again. But with things as they are, that is all that can be said. Now, why hasn't Samuel appeared? It is not like him at all." Maggie almost mentioned that he might be in her garden, but stopped herself at the thought of her father setting foot there. In any case, if Samuel was there, he would know Darius was nearby. He was either staying away because he couldn't come, or because he meant to test how she would deal with her father. Not wanting Darius to be suspicious if she was too meek, she stood up paced, her tone angry. "How should I know? You send him here to hover over me, and then Jem to poke through my things and harass me, even in the palace of all places. My position there is precarious. We cannot afford any missteps." "I expected him to be here, or have a message waiting for me if he couldn't grace us with his presence himself. Like he usually does. But, then again, nothing about your situation is along the lines of what we usually deal with. And for your information; Jem was not sent here on my orders, and has been punished accordingly." There was something in his tone, telling her that there was something else she needed to say before he would be content just waiting for Samuel. Maggie looked up in surprise. She almost felt sorry for Jem. Almost. She wondered if, in his own way, he had simply wanted to see her, but had felt it necessary to put on his pompous charade. But no, that was too charitable. Jem had hoped to find some way to undermine her. She had won that round. A little smirk played at her lips. "I don't know where Samuel is, Father. Dealing with the hunters, probably. As for my situation, you know about my new patron?" "Why don't you tell me, since we are playing the honesty game anyway? We have to wait for... this guy... Samuel, it is good to see you. When did you get in here?" "Just now, actually," Samuel suddenly appeared in the study, just inside the door which Darius had left open. "Darius, it is good to see you again. He gave Maggie's father a short bow, but no smile or friendly tone was given. Just what one would expect from a typical subordinate. "Haha, it is good to see you, in the flesh!" Darius got to his feet and forced Samuel into a hug. It wasn't like the one he had offered Maggie; even from her vantage point she could see that it was a lot more genuine that anything she had given her to her memory. "How long this time? Five years? Six? You're always so sour and dull. Ease up a little. C'mon, sit down and let us listen to what we need to hear about Magdela's new patron." Samuel gave a smile, and leaned against the wall as Darius sat back down. Both looked over at Maggie, expecting her to talk. Maggie looked from one to the other, the resentment and suspicion in her expression not entirely feigned. It occurred to her that Darius saw Samuel as his child, too, the kind that he had always hoped she and Jem would be. It must gall him that his own bloodline was so disappointing. Samuel could be playing the same game she and Jem always had. It was how Darius liked it. Clearing her throat, she said, "Samuel can fill you in, Father. For now I am still the favorite, but we know that never lasts for long. Fortunately Skjari has strong appetites, though not as particular as the late emperor's. He won't have trouble finding another mistress if he tires of me. I think we can buy further influence with him through a power struggle going on between him and the royal spymaster. That one is not long for the palace in any case. He also is using elven prisoners for something. I'm not sure what, but their bodies are never found. That could be leverage, but as Samuel can tell you, we are better off maintaining a positive alliance with him. He is the emperor now, for all purposes." "Pff," Darius made no effort to hide his contempt for her mention of the situation they had with the court mage. "The identity of the Emperor means little. The Council and the nobility, the generals and the wealthy merchant lords. They are the ones who really matter. The only reason we have to play friendly with him is that we are not aware of how great his personal power is." "And the power struggle?" Samuel reminded him that there was another part to it he had to talk about before he was done with his "turn". These family conversations were awkward as a rule it seemed. Jem was an idiot, following his father too blindly, and Maggie was a rebel, thinking too much on her own for these conversations to have any other result. "I say we stay out of it, as much as we can. It has never led to good things, going this close to the palace." "As I have done," Maggie said. "Are you aware of any talk of coup among the nobles? They must sense that White Gold is weaker than it has been in a long time." "None that will amount to a sufficient threat agsint the White-Gold in the near future, now that I've pulled some favors. For now I think it best to postpone such nonsense to after the court mage and the royal spymaster have finished riling the crowd. Samuel?" "Yes?" Darius rolled his eyes when Samuel didn't answer his as he expected right away. "Your input. Snap snap. I don't have all night." "Right... my input. Nothing of worth, you've covered the most broad strokes. I just get to fill in the details when I more closely examine the situation and its nuances." "Good," Darius continued and turned to Maggie. "And your input? What do you think we should do? And don't give me what you think I want to hear; I want your actual opinion." "We stay out of it, for now, but this Lorgar could become a liability quickly. He's unstable and I don't think we could make a true alliance with him if we wanted to. Chorrol was foolish to involve himself. If the spymaster makes any moves against us, then we help Skjari eliminate him. For now, our best bet is that Dales and Skjari remain in power." "Then we agree. Good." Samuel and Darius spoke in unison, before they looked at each other and grinned. "Again?" "Apparently." They both turned more serious again almost instantly. Darius turned to his daughter. "Is there anything else you want to talk about, before I'll have a word alone with Samuel?" Eyes moving from one to the other, Maggie once again was aware that she was the odd one out here, the weak one. "Nothing, Father. Thank you for your visit." She said it automatically, with less warmth than she'd give to a stranger. With a stiff nod to both, she left, closing the study door behind her. She paused at the door, head turned, but both of the men would know where she was so there was no use trying to listen. If Samuel was going to betray her, there was no way she could prevent it. There never had been. Maggie realized her hands were trembling. Before her father came out and she gave herself away, she fled upstairs, and tried to write. She ended up staring at a blank page. "You sent a message about something important," Darius looked at Samuel, who had moved over to Maggie's empty chair. "What was that?" "The Dark Brotherhood." The Master raised an eyebrow. "The Dark Brotherhood. What about them? They're gone from this province, confined to the harsh cold of Skyrim." "But it doesn't need to be that way. They will return, sooner or later. I think it is better if we speed up their return... to our own advantage." "Taking control over them?" "No, just... coming to an arrangement of mutual benefit." "Fine. See it done and I'll take care of the meeting itself. And Samuel... do you mind proof reading Maggie's books?" Samuel's mouth had began on an answer before he had time to think, like most replies from him, but now it was caught halfway open. Had he just asked him to... what? This wasn't like Lord Bathory in the least. The only word he could get out was "why". "Because I don't think I need to take away her writing to make her understand the gravity of the mistake she made. For all that I am, you got through to her another way. A way I didn't find." He couldn't help but to blink a few times. He was still waiting for the part where Darius told him he was kidding and asked him to make sure that she didn't try to publish anything before he gave the All Clear, but it never came. "That is... unexpected." "I know. And I think it is best if you're the one to tell her. She is... closed to anything I have to say. Always thinking there is an angle, cynically judging everything I do." "Aren't I the guy you called a cynical bastard, in those exact words, three times just within the last decade?" Samuel let out a chuckle, matched by one from Darius. "True, true. But you've..." "... come to see that not everything you do has an ulterior motive." "Yes, something like that," Darius pointed to his friend, to show that he had nailed the concept on the bulls eye. "I'll take care of it." "Thank you, my friend. I mean it, really. I may not be a good father, and I'm the first to admit it, but I am glad I can do something for her, even as small as this." "Being one of us is not the best line of work for raising a family, is it?" "No, it is not." ** As Maggie heard a step outside her door, she flinched out of her reverie, expecting it to be Darius. When she saw Samuel, her tension only eased slightly. "Is he still here?" "No, he left. How are you holding up? Wait, scrap that question. What about us getting a bottle of wine, crack it open, and you tell me how you are feeling after a glass or two? Sounds a hell of a lot better than... whatever it would be like for you right now." "I never see you drinking." She sounded suspicious, but got up, almost mechanically, to obey his request and retrieve some wine. Far from being rebellious when Darius was near, she slipped automatically into an instinctive submissiveness. "I'll find something in the cellar." "You will now. I need something to take the edge of, for the first time in half a decade. I'll be waiting in the kitchen. Seems like the best place, right now." Maggie nodded mutely and went down to her wine cellar. She chose a Skingrad white reserve, and brought it up to the kitchen. "He's still here," she said as she poured the glasses. "No, he is not. But you feel like he is, since he is this close to you." Maggie handed Samuel his glass and sat down across from him. She didn't believe him, but wasn't going to show it. "It went better than I expected. He actually praised me. I can't remember when he last did that." "I wouldn't know. I was never a part of the intimate family, if that word can even be used here. But it wasn't surprising. You've done well for yourself, in an impossible situation." "I suppose." She knew better than to be lulled by the praise. "It was luck, mostly. And your information and support, not least with the hunters. I'm not ungrateful. You haven't had trouble with them?" "I've not been dealing with them ever since the meeting. I've had more important things to deal with, with a very important informant of mine. One I think will be needed for when I go after your father to kill him, his son and free myself from his control." The last sentence was said in a higher voice than the rest. "There. You believe he is actually gone from this house now?" Shocked, Maggie looked over her shoulder, then back. "Are you mad?" Shaking her head, she gestured. "Drink your wine. It might be the last for both of us." "Not mad yet," he lifted the glass, as if to honor her, before he took a large sip of it. The entirety of it, in fact. "To madness then. Probably where this road leads to anyway. Or death. That works too. I can drink to that, if you prefer. Both probable outcomes if defeat, for both of us. Don't worry, he went to the most expensive hotel in the city, long out of the hearing range of anything we say here. What, you think I let my guard down when it matters the most?" "I think I'm not sure which one of you is more dangerous. Father actually sounded anxious that you hadn't appeared. You were listening, I suppose?" "Listening, to you two? Gods, how boring and fruitless that would be... No, I was out doing something of actual importance. And... we'll see who is the more dangerous one, won't we? Isn't that what all this is leading up to?" "Your informant. You're sure of him?" "He is the best of the best. Never let me down, but for the price he charges I expect nothing less." "So you pay them. Perhaps I should try that. My charm alone only goes so far." She sighed heavily. "I lost one. He hung himself, the day after I spoke to him about some favors he was to do for us. I keep going over what I said, but it was nothing out of the ordinary." "I only pay some of them. And there are those who let me hire their network, at a price, saving me a lot of time. The only one with a network even worth glancing at, compared to mine. And yet, he somehow gets the best stuff long before I normally could, and sells it to be at a price I can just barely live with. Drives me slightly insane, watching the numbers fly, but that is the price for efficiency." Samuel leaned forward, folding his hands. He looked much like Darius when he did. "The one you lost, was it 15 or 16 years ago?" "It was just this week." Maggie's eyes fell on him, wondering how he bore so many centuries of memory weighing on him, mortals dying off, the face of the world itself changing. Maybe it's what was wrong with her father, too, why he had only an empty hole where normal feelings should be. Yet Samuel seemed different. For some reason she recalled the mudcrab he had been petting on the night of Amaund's assassination. She tried to picture Darius doing the same and the image almost made her laugh. Speaking up again, she asked, "You expect I can do this, what you do, if...?" "Just this week?" He used the nail on his thumb to scratch himself on the chin for a moment. "Then you are ill informed. One of your friends from earlier hanged himself too, but that was unrelated to you and your questions. And I guess that makes me ill informed, as I expected it to be him you thought about." From the chin the hand moved up and was joined by the other as Samuel rested the weight of his forehead on his knuckles. "I'll be honest with you, Rose; if you ever become close to as good as me at what I do, I will truly pity your fate. There is a high price to be paid to be the best, one I hope you will turn down. One I wished I had turned down." Her brow knit. "What are you talking about?" "Your informant, or the price?" "Both, I suppose." Samuel gave her a quick smile. "Your informant form back then killed himself shortly after the last time you talked to him, after getting involved in something about love. Typical suicide motivation. All starting and ending after you lest the scene of his life. As for the price... I think it is better if I don't let you in on that little secret just yet. Add it to the list of things I promised to tell you if we win. That thing should be substantial by now." "You're being cryptic again." She also gave a little smile. Something Samuel had said earlier came back to her. Reflexively she took a nervous look over her shoulder before turning back. "Jem, too?" "What, you think we're going to leave him around to further have his petty squabbles with you? He's too dumb to realize that if we kill your father he has no ground to be your equal, so he will try to bully you as he does now. Better to put the Dog out of his misery before it gets worse and even more pathetic." Maggie's eyes dropped. She had known it even before Samuel mentioned it, but still hadn't wanted it to be true. No one could understand. Jem was like the other side of her. He'd always been there, suffering the same things she did. Some people even thought they were twins. Looking up at Samuel again, she asked, "Do you have any family still living?" "Your father." "Do you really think of him that way? Only him?" "Who else was there for me to consider my family, after my father died? You of all people should have no problems understanding the why's. Ro- Maggie... I have been alive for over 600 years, most of which have been while wearing one mask or another. He was the only one throughout all of it that knew me without the masks." For the first time she understood how difficult it was for Samuel to propose what he had- supposing he was going to actually do it. She nodded. "I understand. Your father, did he know about your nature?" "How old do I look, Maggie?" "Thirty? No, thirty-five." "I was thirty-four when..." He gestured to himself. "... happened. By then my father had been dead for twelve and I had long been in business on my own. The young man my father remembered was someone who was still learning everything he could about being a merchant and had just barely had the chance to try it on his own, and had a hard time talking to women unless I was trying to sell them something. He never knew anything about the Dual Patrons or the Bathory woman." Maggie flinched a little at the title, something used for her. "I see. It.. is better, don't you think?" "He would be heartbroken." "Would he not be proud of all you've accomplished?" "And just what have I accomplished that would not break the heart of a man who just wanted to see his son grow up to be a good man? My father never cared for power or titles, or even wealth." She was silent a moment, pondering this. Having known only the Bathory way, she had little context for what other families were like. One thing she did understand, however, was to grow up a disappointment. "I see. I'm sorry." After an awkward pause, she gestured at his glass. "Do you like the wine? I thought you might want something from home. I can get something more exotic if you prefer." "Tonight it is not the taste that I crave, but the alcohol in it. But... yes, I like it." He poured himself another glass. And another. "Don't be sorry for my father. He was a good man and some of his lessons did stick to me. In a way, I think my father has as much claim as I have to saving us, should we succeed. I guess that is where your father and I differ the most." Maggie watched him down the two glasses, understanding that he wanted to be drunk. It was surprising. After a pause, she lifted her glass and said, "Then to his memory." "Aye, to Samuel senior's memory," Samuel raised his own glass. She thought it better not to mention what came after. It wasn't known anyway, but she suspected which of their Patrons would receive her soul if it came to that, and that even vampires would feel the cold in Coldharbour. "Have you ever thought... There are rumors, you know. That one could be made mortal again. I think I should like to give my mother that chance, if we succeed." "Falion, in Morthal. He can cure this. So could the Glenmoril Witches, if you find one alive. But Falion is your best bet." "You wouldn't do it?" "I need to be alive for a while yet. Dying of old age is not going to help me or anyone else at this point. Once it is all over... maybe." "Then we can talk about it after all is said and done. In the meantime, I should like to study more with you, if you have the time. Swordcraft, and concealment. You have some of my Father's spells that he would never teach me." She had learned some things from Skjari's library, too, but for now she would keep that to herself. "Yes, I think that would be a good idea," Samuel emptied his glass again. "When are you going to write your next book?" "Does it matter?" Trying to deflect from her sadness, she forced a smile. "Some fool was burning my books in Emperor's Way and encouraging others to do the same. A man after my father's heart." "Well, it does matter. To me at least. I need to know when I can start proofreading it fir publishing, so I can make time for it." Her brow lifted. Suspiciously she asked, "He sanctioned this?" "He did indeed. Surprising, I know." Maggie thought about this, then shook her head. "He only wants me to know that he can take away anything that I have, at any time, and give it back to me at his whim. I should know better, but still..." The thought of producing another book calmed her. "I'll get to work right away. You poor thing, forced to read it." She laughed, a more genuine laugh than before. "Not his intention this time, I think. I think... I think he didn't want to take away your writing to begin with. Sounds strange to you, I'm sure, but he... I don't know how to describe it other than to say that he has his moments of clarity. A small fraction of the man he used to be maybe." Maggie gave Samuel a skeptical glance. "You can believe that if you like. I for one have no idea what sort of man he was. I assumed he was raised in this life as I was. He's never spoken about his own parents. As to the book... thank you. He trusts you, otherwise he would not allow it." Samuel let out a quiet sigh through his nose and gave her a short smile. "I don't believe it. I know it. He was a good man, once. But this life changed him. The hard choices were too much for him to take, I think. I saw the final stages of this in the century after he turned me. But now? He is someone who needs to go. I'm sorry, I don't even know if I should be doing this... Telling you how much more complicated your father is and that he once was a good man, I mean. I'm... not making it any easier for you." "Do you think it matters to me? I've known only one Darius Bathory. The other doesn't exist for me, though I take your word that it once did. I only wonder if one day, I will become what he is." Maggie glanced once at Samuel, again wondering why he was different, if he truly was. "Yes, I do think it matters to you. He's your father, and for a long time he was the only one you had. I think you long to know what it would be like, if he didn't become what he is. I don't believe you're damaged enough to not care yet." Maggie looked down at her hands, and shrugged lightly. "Don't complicate things. It will make me weak, when the time comes. To defeat him we must think like him. Him, as he is now." "I know," he nodded. "You have a question for me. I can see it on you. Go ahead. Ask." She had to smile a little. Samuel was using her own tricks, her way of reading people's small giveaways to understand the unspoken. Talking to him, she understood how unnerving it was. "Why are you different from him?" "I don't know. Maybe it is my father, maybe it is something else. Maybe it is Fiona, or maybe even you..." Maggie's brow knit in puzzlement at the last, but she let it alone. Standing, she said, "You still have to tell me the rest of Fiona's story. Another night. Help yourself to more wine from the cellar, if you like." "Can't, I have something to take care of. But I will tell you the last piece of the puzzle when the time comes. First we have to deal with Darius." He got to his feet as well, but didn't make any further attempt to move in any direction. "Good night, Maggie." She almost corrected him, that he should call her Rose again, but decided that that, too, was better left alone. With a faint smile of farewell, she went up the stairs to her room. As she washed herself, her eyes fell on the blank page on her desk. Silently Maggie wondered if she would ever dare to write their true stories someday. Perhaps Darius would be the only one left to do that.

Thulik Heavywinter Whiterun Tundra Evening Star, 4E 202 (Three months after the Battle of Romulus), 6 p.m. Thulik uncorked his waterskin and took a quick drink. It had been a long day, and he was ready to finally finish it up. He was sitting on one knee behind a low, snow-covered rock formation surrounded by grass and some tundra cotton. Even now, in the dead of winter, the stout flora of Skyrim was poking through the snow, seemingly unfazed by the wintery onslaught. The snow crunched under his boots and arms as he slowly lowered himself to a prone position and began to crawl forward and up the short hill he'd been behind. Across the brown and white plains, he could make out the building-sized rock that opened down into a small cave system that was popularly known as Redoran's Retreat. Even from where he laid, almost a hundred and fifty yards away, Thulik could easily make out the forms of two sentries and a door guard. Like Thulik's own men, they were wrapped up warmly in extra layers to fight the upcoming snow storm. That was one of the reasons that Thulik knew that he needed to get this mission wrapped up. Nords or not, there was no way they would make it all the way back to Fort Greymoor in a blizzard. To his right, Thulik heard his second-in-command and younger brother, Grovar Wild-Axe, crawling up next to him. The man's breath popped into Thulik's peripherals before his head did. Like with every other person out here, each time that Grovar exhaled, a jet of vapor left his mouth like fire from a Dragon's. Of course, his brother's breath was the farthest thing from Thulik's mind at the moment. He kept his eyes fixed on the cave sentries, and the layout of the land around it all. "We need to move out soon." said Grovar. "Before this storm hits us." "Agreed." answered Thulik. "But slowly, and carefully. Do you see the equipment they have? All steel weapons, and matching armor under their furs. These aren't run of the mill bandits." "So you think these are the guys that hit White Watch?" "We're a long way from White Watch, but from what I've heard, these men fit the description. The thing is, if these are of the same stock who attacked a position so far away from here..." "Then we're dealing with a larger group than what's in this one cave." "Exactly. We may be up against a larger, more spread out force. If they're the same people of course." Thulik paused for a minute as he watched the door guard go into the cave for some unknown reason. Did he see us? He looked back at the fifteen men he'd been given for this assignment. All of them were still sitting in groups among the rock clusters and tall grass. He could barely see some of them from here. There was no way that the door guard had. "Surely we can get a couple to surrender. We can question them about who they really are." "Captain said not to bring back any prisoners, remember?" "I didn't say we were." answered Thulik. "We'll kill them after they talk." Noticing the unhappy look on Grovar's face, Thulik decided that now would be a good time to set off. He was pretty sure that he and Hjelkir, his best shot with a bow, could sneak close enough at an angle to take out the sentries before they could alert those inside of the Stormcloaks' presence. The door guard too, if he comes back out. After easing his way back to his men, Thulik found Hjelkir. The dark gray-bearded and strong-faced Nord was a good shot. Probably from his service as a Legion scout before even the Great War. Hjelkir was also by far the oldest of their group, aging at almost sixty years old. Thulik knew why the man had never retired. He had no place else to go. When he left the Legion to join the Stormcloaks, he'd left everything he had. That included his family. Thulik explained the plan to the old archer, who listened intently to everything he was told. After nodding and unslinging his bow, the man took off in the direction of the cave, approaching from the right side. Despite his age, he was still in good shape, and he had no trouble staying low as he snuck into position, moving from one cluster of rocks or weeds to another. Thulik himself did the same, mimicking Hjelkir's movements along the left side. After about two minutes, they had both gotten within twenty yards of the sentries, easily close enough to make their shots. By now, the door guard had come back outside. Thulik knew that he'd have to be the first target, and that Hjelkir would follow his lead. A strong gust of wind suddenly came through, blowing the heavy, vision-obstructing snow along with it. We need to get in that cave soon. Thulik pulled his fur hood up over his head, and brought up his blue scarf to cover his mouth and nose. After saying a quick prayer to Talos, he found his target, took aim, compensating for the heavy wind, and fired. After just a second, the door guard slumped to the ground with an arrow in his chest. Thulik turned and aimed for the closer sentry, who hadn't noticed his comrade's death through all the snow and wind. He fired, this time forgetting to compensate for the wind, and the arrow struck the man in the right shoulder, wounding him but not killing him. However, before the bandit could even let out a scream, another arrow pierced his throat. Thulik looked across the field to see Hjelkir approaching, his own sentry target was already dead. "Alright, let's get indoors." There was no one close by, and Thulik said this to himself more than anyone in particular. He pulled down his scarf and gave a low whistle. The shapes of fifteen Nords rose from various clusters of rocks and weeds over a hundred yards away. The snow masked their features, making their large forms all that was visible. Most foreigners or non-Nords would've likely been terrified by the sight, and rightfully so. There's a reason that Skyrim's Nordic legion had been the best in the Empire. As soon as Grovar and the rest reached them, Thulik relung his bow and drew his steel longsword. "Keep it tight. Everyone make sure to cover the archers. Grovar and I will lead in. Keep it tight until I give the order, then we spread out. Be sure to stay in pairs." The Nords moved forward in a big group. When they reached the cave door, Thulik took off his hood and slowly opened it without a sound. One by one, the soldiers filtered in, grateful to be out of the biting wind. They appeared to be in a short box hallway, held together by old wooden beams along the walls and lit by torches every few feet on the left side. The floor gradually descended like a ramp as they got deeper. Keeping his sword close, Thulik lead the Stormcloaks further down. At the end, the hall took a ninety degree turn to the right, down into another hall, forming an "L" shape. As they neared the end of this one however, Thulik could see that it opened up into a much larger and more open room. Halfway down the left side was a long cave rock formation that obscured his view of the leftern most far side of the room. What caught Thulik's eye, however were the three men, all wearing the same black armor as those outside, sitting in chairs around a small fire near the back wall. He stepped forward, allowing his men to move into the room. He pointed to the bandits, signalling for his archers to fire. The six men raised their bows, but before anyone drew, he heard the whistling of an arrow fly through the room. What the- "Get down!" Grovar tackled Thulik to the ground. As they hit it, he heard a scream. One of his own men had been shot "Off!" Thulik shouted. He pushed Grovar off of him and stood up. "Everyone spread out! Shields up if you've got 'em! Archers return fire!" Two more arrows could be heard whistling through the air. Thulik barely managed to move out of the way as the one that was aimed for him struck the cave wall behind him. He heard a grunt, and turned to see that Hjelkir had been hit in the thigh. He'd live. "They're hiding in the rock formation! Fire damn it!" He pointed his sword at the fire. All the seats around it were empty. Their occupants now stood up with their swords drawn. "Everyone, with me! Don't let them get away! Chaaarge!" While the six archers returned fire at the hidden bandits in the rocks,the rest of the Stormcloaks sprinted forward. The bandits, despite being outnumbered, did not seem afraid. They held fast, waiting for Thulik and his men to meet them. We'll oblige to that. Thulik was the first to reach them. Attacking the one on the left, he held his sword in two hands and brought it down at an angle, aimed at the bandit's neck. The bandit quickly brought up his own sword and deflected Thulik's strike. The Stormcloak followed up by throwing an elbow at the bandit's face, which he landed, knocking the man back a bit. Now, with the momentum of the fight on his side, Thulik stepped closer and swept his blade at the bandit's legs. The bandit, who was already off balance, barely managed to hop backwards and out of the way, however, he was still on the tight defensive, and had yet to get a swing in. The bandit composed himself and swung at Thulik, who parried the strike easily enough. What came next surprised him. The bandit sprinted past him, blocking a strike as he did, and with unexpected speed, leapt at the wall, kicking off of it and aiming a downward stab at Thulik's neck. Thulik dodged out of the way and crashed into one of his own soldiers. Fortunately, the man wasn't in any immediate danger, as the other two bandits had been pushed further into the room. Thulik got up and just managed to deflect another strike from the bandit. Who the hell are you? Their swords clashed as two swung and parried with one another for a while, each trying to one-up the other. Finally, as the bandit blocked just a hint too low, Thulik saw his opening. He rammed the point of his sword into the bandit's chest, driving it all the way in until the hilt was bumping into his armor. Now, their faces only inches apart, Thulik looked into the man's surprised blue eyes. Though he looked surprised, he didn't look scared. In fact, a small smile spread across his face as his eyes began to glaze over. "Sovngarde..." he muttered with his last breath, before sliding backwards off Thulik's sword and hitting the ground with a thud. Well that was a good fight. Definitely not some common bandit. Thulik noticed that the fighting on his comrades' end had slowed down. Only one enemy swordsman remained, and he was wounded and surrounded in the corner of the room. It looked like he'd been trying to evade them for a bit, but finally got caught. Now, he was against the wall, one hand holding out a sword and the other clutching an axe wound in his lower ribcage. The Stormcloaks weren't attacking him. They were just keeping him boxed in. Thulik looked back at the entrance and saw that four of his six archers, including Hjelkir remained. They weren't shooting anymore, so he assumed that the hidden bandit archers had been dealt with. He motioned for Hjelkir to come forward. "Put an arrow in that one's calf." The old Nord nodded, notching an arrow as he walked toward the cornered bandit. Upon seeing what was about to happen, the bandit dropped his sword and threw up his hands. "Wait! No no no! Aaaaaargh!" When the arrow hit him, he dropped to one knee, one hand holding his axe wound, and the other hovering around the arrow in his calf, wanting to clutch it but knowing how bad an idea that was. "Modir, Frond, you two stay and watch him." Thulik did a quick head count. These three men and their archers had managed to kill six of his own. Minus Modir and Frond, that left him with nine men to clear out the rest of the cave. And the rest would know he was coming. "The rest of you, let's move. Stay in pairs. Grovar, you're with me." The Stormcloaks headed for a narrow tunnel that led deeper into the cave. Thulik wasn't sure how far it went, but it twisted and turned like a snake, finally opening into a wide, but low-ceilinged room. There was a large natural rock pillar in the center, but what Thulik noticed most were the six bows aimed his way from various directions. "Grovar!" His brother instantly raised his large steel shield, and the two crouched together behind it. Thulik didn't have time to hesitate, and after he had counted six arrows rapidly hit the shield, he immediately leapt out over it, charging at the closest man, who happened to be on the right side. He closed the distance before another arrow could be fired, and by the time the archers were prepared to fire again, Thulik was already locked in combat with their ally, and they couldn't risk hitting him. While they were following Thulik, Grovar lead the rest of the men in a charge on the remaining bandits, who all quickly dropped their bows and drew their axes and swords. Grovar himself joined Thulik against his own man, and together they dispatched him with considerably more ease than the last one. Thulik rushed to find another target. Upon finding one, he fought and parried with him until his brother managed to arrive and chop of the man's arm with his war axe. Unfortunately, the rest of the Stormcloaks were not faring so well. Five of their nine were dead or wounded, at the expense of only two enemy lives. The two Thulik and Grovar killed brought that up to four. Now, Thulik and Grovar managed to find themselves fighting one of the remaining two. This one was large, and he had a familiar look about him. He had long, light blonde hair and a knotted beard to match. His sword was obviously an Imperial blade, and along with his shield, he knew how to put it to good use. The bandit easily parried a blow from Grovar, before raising his shield to deflect another from Thulik. He spun around them and brought his hilt into Grovar's back, knocking him to his knees. Thulik swung at the man's face, but he caught the blow with his shield, and as he did, kicked Thulik back before sending the point of his blade into the back of the already downed Grovar's neck. "NOOO!!!" Thulik watched helplessly as his brother hovered on his knees for a few seconds, blood freely pouring from his neck, before collapsing into a quickly-growing red puddle. "I'LL KILL YOU!" Thulik began swinging harder and more ferociously than he ever had in his life. He backed the bandit towards the entrance and kept pressing the attack, not giving the blonde Nord a chance to strike back. As the man was pressed back into the winding tunnel they'd come through, Thulik could feel the wooden shield beginning to crack. When it did, the man wouldn't stand a chance. Thulik kept swinging, and the man kept blocking. He knew as well as Thulik that he wasn't going to win. Finally, After one mighty downward swing, the shield splintered, and when it did, the bandit quickly threw the useless handle at Thulik before turning to run. He followed the winding tunnels and sprinted back into the main room, Thulik close on his tail. "Modir! Frond! Get him!" It was too late. By the time the two Stormcloaks had stood up to respond to Thulik's order, the bandit was passed them. Panting, he made his way up the "L" shaped passageways and through the cave entrance, slamming the door behind him. Thulik followed close behind, and without touching the handle busted through the door. "DAMN IT!" The blizzard had hit, and Thulik couldn't see five feet in any direction through the thick white flurries that surrounded him. The bandit was nowhere to be seen. He rushed out a few more feet before stopping. It was no use. He didn't even know which way the man had gone. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see that it was Hjelkir's. The old Nord had to shout so that his voice could be heard over the wind. "This weather will kill him worse than any sword! Come back in, the cave is cleared!" Thulik nodded. As much as he wanted to be the one to plunge the blade into the cowardly bandit, he knew that this was the worse fate. There's no place in Sovngarde for Nords who die running. "I hope you get far." muttered Thulik under his breath. I hope you get so far, that you think you have a chance, and just as you begin to feel that hope, your cowardly heart freezes over. When Thulik made it back into the cave, he found the remainder of his men scattered about, rummaging through the bandits' possessions for their share of the spoils. Modir and Frond were still watching the prisoner, not that he was going far. With Hjelkir behind him, Thulik walked over and squatted down beside him. "You and your men killed a lot of my own today." he said with a cold voice. "We didn't think you were normal bandits, and you confirmed it. So what are you? And why are you attacking Stormcloak positions?" The man didn't answer, either because he didn't want to, or he was in such pain that it took him a while to muster up the words. It didn't matter much to Thulik, who waited in silence for about ten seconds before punching him right under the eye. "Oww!" The man coughed a few times, causing his face to twist in agony before he spoke. "We...We are the Sons of Whiterun. The Legion... gave up on Skyrim, but we haven't." Thulik looked over at his three comrades. "Any of you ever heard of the "Sons of Whiterun" before?" All three shook their heads. "Me neither. Looks like we discovered a terrorist group. Ex-military it would seem." Thulik looked back down at the man. "Am I right?" The "Son of Whiterun" didn't answer at first, as if he was contemplating whether or not this was information that could hurt them to give up. Finally, he shook his head. "We...are ex-military... but you are the terrorists." Thulik nodded slowly a few times. "You'd think that I suppose. I'm not about to get in an argument with you about it. Not in the mood... So next question, who leads the Sons of Whiterun?" This time, the man didn't answer. He averted his eyes away from Thulik's, much to the Stormcloak's annoyance. "Look, I'm normally a patient person, even with prisoners. But that bastard that got away just killed someone very close to me, so forgive me if I do something..." He grabbed the arrow in the man's calf and began twisting it. "... drastic." "Aaaaaaaahhh!!! Please, stop!" Thulik stopped twisting, and instead pulled the arrow in the wrong direction, where its head caught in his muscles. "Aaaahh!! Tullius!!! It's General Tullius!!!" This got Thulik to stop. The man sounded truthful, and Tullius had in fact been reported missing in Skyrim. But if what he said was true, then they were up against an enemy that was much more than common bandits. If what he says is actually true. "Do you believe him?" he asked, turning to his comrades. "I think he believes himself." answered Hjelkir. "So do I." Thulik looked down at the man, who was laying on his back, eyes closed hard, like he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Thulik slowly unsheathed the steel dagger he wore at his belt. We can oblige. Without wasting another second, Thulik ended the man's misery with an easy slice to the throat. He looked back up at his comrades when the deed was done. "If Tullius really is leading a terrorist band, the High King himself will want to know." He looked back towards the hallway leading to the entrance. "We'll camp here and wait out this storm. Gather some men and pile their dead outside in the snow." Thulik thought back to the horrifying image of his brother collapsing into his own blood and his face grew pale. He felt a sting in his eyes as tears finally began to form, but quickly blinked them away. Thulik wasn't going to let himself break down in front of his men. "Do... Do the same with our own. Except we burn them." ***** Boldir Iron-Brow Whiterun Present Day, Late morning Boldir was sitting at the desk in his house, probably enjoying Mila's birthday more than she was. For while his daughter was spending the morning helping Carlotta at the stand like every other day, he was taking the day off from work. His excuse wasn't that it was her birthday, but that he was preparing things for the family's departure to Riften. It had been true when he'd said it, but Boldir had finished that task within an hour, and now he was using the extra time to work on adding to the journal Baldur had given him. He'd written about Silent Moons, and how Mila had saved the little girl. At first Boldir hesitated to add in what came next, especially scary lack of caring on Mila's end, but finally, he went ahead and included it all, going into much detail. This is for no one but myself anyway. Finally, after finishing a comparatively boring entry on his use of the lunar forge to make Mila's dagger, Boldir signed the bottom with the usual phrase: "The ending of the words is REBBABO." He still didn't know what that meant. All he knew was that the word REBBABO was an acronym for Rebec, Baldur, Boldir. He'd yet to find a Dunmer who knew. So far, those he'd asked in Whiterun didn't have a clue. Riften is more diverse, and closer to Morrowind. Surely I can find one there who will know. Boldir closed the book, wondering how his closest friends were doing now. Enjoying their adventures together, no doubt. Boldir felt a brief pang of jealousy at the way that the two of them could wander off and do as they pleased across Skyrim, while he had to ask permission just to leave the city. I shouldn't think like that. Carlotta and Mila more than make up for it, and Baldur and Rebec deserve to go do some things together. Gods know they've earned it. Now that he was done writing, Boldir looked around for something to do with his time until lunch. He reached for his flute but stopped. He didn't really feel like playing right now. Instead, he crossed over to Carlotta's bedside and curiously picked up the restoration spell tome from her nightstand. He opened it up to the first page, only to see a bunch of odd symbols with written out explanations of what they meant. "Eh" He closed the book and sat it back on the stand. Gods this place is boring! Boldir began to head outside for some practice with his axe when he heard a knock on the door. "Coming!" He rushed downstairs and quickly answered the door. It was one of the city guards. Boldir recognized the man, but didn't know his name. "Uhh sir... I'm sorry to bother you on your day off-" "It's no bother." Boldir was just relieved to have someone around to speak with. "Oh, well I was just here to tell you that someone is looking for you. It's a Stormcloak soldier, hanging out in the Bannered Mare." That's strange. how many people even know that I'm here? "Thank you. I'll pay him a visit soon." By soon, Boldir met immediately. As soon as the guard turned to leave, Boldir went upstairs and threw on a shirt and his favorite cloak, then a belt along with his war axe sheath. He grabbed the axe from a rack and jogged outside, sheathing it on the way out. He headed straight for the Mare, but decided to make a quick stop at Carlotta's stand on the way. The market wasn't too crowded at the moment, and nobody was currently looking to buy fruit. Carlotta was sitting on her stool behind the stand, using her free time to count up the day's potential profits, while Mila was standing a little behind the stand. She appeared to be trying, in vain, to juggle three tomatoes. There was a small bruise on her forehead. Boldir let out a long breath as he leaned against a post of the stand. Carlotta looked up from him from her paper and grinned. "Hello my love. Back from some adventure I bet." She said it mockingly. Carlotta knew how much Boldir hated it when she talked like that. "Yeah yeah I get it. Everyone I know is out on their own peace-time adventures and I'm cooped up in Whiterun." Carlotta leaned over the stall and whispered in his ear. "That's not too bad a thing is it?" She gave him a kiss, which he gladly returned. It most definitely wasn't too bad a thing. After dropping a tomato onto the ground for the upteenth time, Mila looked up to see her mom and stepdad locking lips over the stand. Can't they find other ways to embarrass me? She threw them a mean glare. "Come on, find a room!" Carlotta was the first to pull back. She smiled and gave Boldir a wink. "We just might." "Bleh!" With a disgusted look on her face, Mila went to pick up her fallen tomato before resuming her useless attempts at figuring out the secret behind juggling. Boldir shot her a grin. "You know, I've heard that juggling the merchandise doesn't tend to increase sells." Carlotta rolled her eyes. "Well she was using rocks. We switched to the tomatoes when that happened." She pointed to the bruise on Mila's forehead. She waited for the girl to give a response, but Mila was far too absorbed in the task at hand to pay any mind to their conversation. Looking back at Boldir, she said, "So what brings you down here? Is it so boring up there that you thought it'd be more fun to watch us work?" "Honestly, it is. But no, that's not why I'm down here. Someone is looking for me down at the Mare." He noticed a slightly worried look in his wife's eyes. "I don't think it's anything serious. Most likely a friend from Eastmarch who heard I was down here, or a relative of someone I fought with in Falkreath. Either way, I'll make it clear to them that I won't be here for them this time tomorrow." "Thank you." Carlotta smiled. She was glad to see that Boldir was ready for this trip, and even when opportunities to delay it are presented, he's ignored or shot them down. It meant a lot to her. Boldir gave her one more kiss before looking at Mila and smiling. Now for a little tormenting. "And for you, I've got a birthday present hidden away for you to open tonight." The girl immediately dropped her tomatoes as her eyes widened. "What is it? Can I go open it now? Pleeeaaase?" "Hehe, you don't even know where it's hidden." "Come on! Tell me! I'll be good all week if you do, I promise!" Mila resorted to flashing her saddest face at Boldir, hoping to sway him. "Not gonna happen." Boldir may have been more susceptible to Mila's sad eye face a few months ago, but over time, he'd had to teach himself to fight it. He smiled as Carlotta laughed and Mila pouted. "I shouldn't be too long. I'm going to go talk to whoever this is, and then we can all get some lunch." He turned and left the stand and crossed the market to the Bannered Mare on the far side. Like the market district, the Bannered Mare wasn't crowded. In fact, there were only four patrons. Two men were sitting at the counter, one woman was sitting in the far corner, and then one man wearing Stormcloak attire was sitting in a chair by the fire. He had straight dark brown hair that hung just short of his shoulders, and a short rough beard. The man looked up at Boldir and smiled before motioning to a chair next to him. As Boldir got closer, he could see that the man had a familiar look about him, but he couldn't remember where from. "Hey Boldir!" he said happily as Boldir took his seat. "It's been a long while hasn't it?" Boldir didn't return the smile. He looked at the man for a moment, trying to place his face. "I'm sorry, I've gotten pretty bad with putting names to faces as of late. You definitely look familiar, but I can't tell from where. Who are you?" The man looked disappointed. "You really don't recognize me? It's Thulik! Thulik Heavywinter?" Boldir's eyes widened a bit and he immediately felt guilty for not recognizing his friend from the past. "Forgive me Thulik. It's the beard. And the hair, definitely the hair." He looked at the man in front of him. When Boldir had last seen Thulik, it had been when he'd left the Legion. The weathered man in front of him had only been around twenty years old at the time. Now, he must've been in his forties, and he looked every bit of it. "I thought for sure... I thought you'd died back in the Rift." Thulik looked confused for a moment, then a look of understanding crossed his face. "You really did get cut off from everything when you left for the Stormcloaks didn't you? No, I hid in Riften with some others for a time, but then I made my way back to my family in Winterhold. After a few years, I joined up with the Stormcloaks, same as you." Boldir nodded, processing all of this. Many years ago, when he'd left the Legion, he'd had little choice. Things had gotten bloody, and more than a few people he'd known had died. He'd fled north to Eastmarch on his own, and there he'd assumed that everyone he'd known from the Greenwall garrison was either dead or had become his enemy. He felt a bit skeptical though. Surely if Thulik had known of his survival, and wanted to see him so badly, he'd have sought him out before now. "So what brings you here Thulik?" "I guess you wouldn't believe me if I said that I just wanted to see an old friend? You've changed Boldir." He stared at Boldir for a few moments, hoping that what he'd said would spur a reaction. When it didn't, he continued, a little disappointed. "Though as much as I hate to admit it, you're right." Thulik reached into a pocket and pulled out a letter."It's from Eastmarch. I'm assuming you know Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced?" "Well enough to remember when he was just Yrsarald the Pierced." Boldir took the letter and opened it, though he was fairly certain that he knew where this was going. Boldir, I know that you have retired from the soldier life, but I must ask that you at least consider what I am about to propose. As you may know, recruitment has gone up lately, and while we are in no small supply of men, we definitely could use a few more leaders and trainers who have experience fighting the elves. I remember when we served together, and you were the first person who came to my mind when I was asked to find some capable Captains. You wouldn't have to go far. Fort Greymoor is where you'd be stationed, and when the next war hits, there will be no one better to lead his own company than you. I'm offering you a chance at a good position to lead, and a much higher pay than you're accustomed to. If that's not enough, I'm also giving you another chance at some day making it to Sovngarde, something you seem to have forgotten about. You're as true a Nord as they come Boldir. You belong on the field. Think about it friend, Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced That's not going to happen. Boldir tossed the letter into the hearth fire in front of them. He looked at Thulik without a trace of emotion on his face. "I assume you knew the contents of this letter?" Thulik nodded. He looked up when the door opened and a small family of three came in, followed by another. It was about lunchtime and here soon the room would be packed. "I was told to ask you personally if the letter wasn't enough to convince you. I take it that won't do any good?" Boldir shook his head. "No. It won't. There's not a thing you, Yrsarald, or anyone else can say to get me to come back. I've got a family now Thulik, and I plan to spend my life with them, not in a fort training recruits or fighting at some gods forsaken border like in Falkreath. I certainly don't plan on leaving Skyrim." "I see." Thulik nodded his head "I wish you would change your mind. As you know, they're looking for capable leaders, and specifically, they're looking for ones who fought the Thalmor in Falkreath. You were Baldur's second in command while down there, and have first hand experience fighting the Dominion as well as dealing with Imperials. You and I may know better, but the younger folks, they look and see the leaders of that war and think "heroes". Having people like you in this fight is good for moral, and you're a damn good soldier to boot." "There were a lot of "heroes" in Falkreath." answered Boldir. "And lots of good soldiers. You've got Baldur, Rebec, Marius, and Brund to use for your poster Stormcloaks. You don't need me for that." "You haven't been following the news have you?" asked Thulik with a somber expression. "Marius is dead." "Marius is dead? How?" Boldir wasn't so much upset as he was surprised. He couldn't really profess to liking Marius all that much. He'd joined the Stormcloaks from a lack of choice, not because he supported or even liked them. Though the man had had a hand in saving Baldur, so that was something. But as much as he hated himself for it, Boldir couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that it had been Marius, and not him. "I'm sorry, I don't remember the name of the man responsible. He was murdered in the Imperial City. That's all I remember. It wasn't much of a concern to me at the time. Was he your friend?" Boldir stared at the fire for a moment, thinking. I shouldn't be jealous of the man for saving Baldur. I should be thankful. Boldir looked up and then shook his head. "Not really. But he was a good man nonetheless." Marius, to the Stormcloaks, was more of a symbol than a soldier. He was a symbol of their newly-forged alliance with the Empire. Even his armor had reflected that. Though that didn't do much for Boldir's opinion of him. "Anyway, as I was saying, you've still got Baldur, Rebec, and Brund from Falkreath. Baldur is the best damn leader Skyrim has seen in this era. Having him to look up to is worth having a hundred of me... I said "no" and that's final. I'd appreciate it if you don't jeopardize this little reunion further by asking me again." Thulik nodded. He knew Boldir wouldn't budge, and felt a little bad about pressing his friend, if Boldir still considered them friends that is, to leave his new life that he was clearly happy with. "I understand Boldir. I'm sorry for pushing so much, but orders are orders... You know how it is. I'll drop it now." "Thank you." Boldir looked at Thulik again, still with no emotion showing. Thulik had only come in hopes to get him back on the field. They may have been friends some time ago, but it was just that. Some time ago. He wasn't looking to stay much longer. He had a family to get to. "Is that all?" Like Boldir, Thulik wasn't going to let his face betray his emotions, but he couldn't help but feel sad. They'd been good friends back at Greenwall. Thulik had even been one of the few to take his side during the betrayal, and it had costed him his own place in the Legion. Now Boldir didn't seem to want anything to do with him. Since his brother Grovar died last year, Thulik hadn't done too well when it came to making or keeping friends. He'd hoped things would be different with Boldir. It's why he'd been excited about this assignment. "Uhh yeah. I suppose it is. It was good seeing you again after all this time Boldir." "Uh huh." Boldir stood and made for the door. Before he reached it, it opened from the outside. Boldir made no attempt to hide the contempt on his face when Ulfrid Battle-Born walked in, closely followed by his son, Idolaf. Both intentionally avoided Boldir's gaze as they headed past him to find a place to sit. Thulik stared into the fire as Boldir left his side. That didn't go as planned... I hope he enjoys his new life. Thulik looked up for one last glance of his old friend before his departure. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. There, not ten feet away, stood his brother's killer. The same blonde Nord who he'd presumed dead, killed by the blizzard, for the better part of a year now. He was wearing leather Imperial armor, and had what looked to be the same Imperial sword that'd been used to do the deed sheathed at his side. Thulik knew it was the same man. The image of his face had been burned into Thulik's memories. "You!" Everyone in the room, including Boldir, turned to see Thulik leaping from his seat, and closing the distance between himself and the "Son of Whiterun" at great speed, a curved steel dagger in hand. Idolaf had no time to respond beyond throwing his hands up, but just as Thulik was only inches away from his target, he felt a massive figure hit him hard, and take him to the ground along with it. "Umph!" Thulik lost the dagger when he was tackled. He looked up to see Boldir on top of him. No one would've thought he was capable of looking more furious than he'd just been, but if they hadn't seen the look he wore now, they'd be proven wrong. "Get off of me damn it! He'll get away again!" Boldir, still holding down Thulik, looked back at Idolaf, who was indeed making his way for the door. "Stop!" he roared. The man didn't stop. Boldir motioned toward one of the locals, a farmer. "You! Tell the guards outside to make sure that man doesn't get away!" "What is the meaning of this?" shouted Ulfrid Battle-Born as the farmer ran outside. "You can't arrest my son! Not without cause! This man tried to murder him and he is being punished?! What justice is that?" Boldir turned back to a still very angry looking Thulik. "He's right. I want an explanation now, and it better be a damn good one!" Thulik stopped struggling, and looked over Boldir's shoulder at Ulfrid. "Your son is a terrorist! And I have the authority as a Captain in the Stormcloak army to make a military arrest!" Boldir relaxed a bit, but didn't get off of Thulik. He held up a hand to keep the stammering Battle-Born behind him from getting too worked up. "What gives you the idea that he's a terrorist?" "He is a Son of Whiterun. I saw him when clearing out a cave. It was the first of very few hideouts of theirs that were ever located. He escaped into a blizzard, which is why we couldn't pursue. Now get off of me and let me do my damn job!" Thulik once again began to uselessly struggle against Boldir's weight. Boldir thought on this for a moment. Battle-Born was always a strong Empire supporter, and a Stormcloak hater. I could definitely see him joining a group meant to fight us. A man with so much money and resources would have been able to cover up his involvement and stay when the Sons of Whiterun were sent packing. Boldir looked Thulik in the eyes. "I believe you. But Idolaf is my prisoner. Not yours. Got it?" Thulik's arms relaxed. There's no point in arguing. What am I going to do? Bring in the military and have Boldir arrested? Despite everything, Thulik couldn't help but let out a bit of a chuckle at the thought. He's best friends with the General. May as well try to arrest the Jarl while I'm at it. "Yeah... I get it. But I want to see that bastard dead." "We'll see. The Sons of Whiterun were told to leave for Cyrodil or be tried for terrorism." Boldir carefully got off of Thulik. He picked up the dagger, sliding it under his belt before he offered Thulik a hand. "You can't be serious?!" Ulfrid watched in shock as the Boldir helped Thulik off the ground, now apparently siding with the man who had just attacked his son, and even discussing his possible execution. "So some man in Stormcloak armor can just walk in here and accuse anyone of crimes, and you, the man in charge of protecting us, will just go along with it?!" "Yes." Thulik said, obviously still angry. "I'm glad you get it." He felt no sympathy for the man who'd killed his brother, and that lack of sympathy carried over to the man's family as well. "It's good to see how Stormcloak justice is carried out!' spat the old man. "It's carried out at the point of a sword." As he spoke, Thulik walked close to the Battle-Born. "As it should be.... Perhaps you would like to admit to something? Does the son take after the father?" Thulik narrowed his eyes, challenging Ulfrid to say anything at all in response. "No actually." Boldir stepped between them and pushed them apart. "That is not how we do things here. Your son will be questioned, but he won't be killed without proof." He looked at Thulik angrily. "Come with me. You and I have a lot to talk about." Boldir lead the way out of the inn, followed closely by Thulik, who shot a fierce glare toward Ulfrid. Say one word old man. Ulfrid stared back hard, but he didn't say anything else as they passed. "You know, I could've taken your weapons away." said Boldir as the two got back to the now-crowded market streets. "I could've had you clapped in irons for attempted murder." He intentionally lead Thulik the long way around the market, through the crowds and down towards the city gate. He didn't want Carlotta and Mila to see them together after all of the commotion that had undoubtedly taken place right in front of them when Idolaf had tried to escape. "Why would you though? We're on the same side here." "Thulik, you're lucky I didn't. I'm not sure what you have against the Battle-B... Actually, I can think of a hundred reasons to dislike them. But attacking and trying to kill a civilian in public isn't how things are done here. I believe your story, but I can't afford to condone killing anyone without proof. I've got a kid who I'm trying to set a good example for." "Kid should be prepared for worse than that. When the Imperials come knocking-" "And why the hell would they do that?" Boldir interrupted. He was a little pissed that Thulik saw fit to tell him how to be a parent. What does he know about it? "We are at peace with the Empire now. Allies even." "I'll go into my thoughts on that later. My point is that we live in dangerous times. Better that your son-" "Daughter." "Sorry. Better that your daughter know the way of the world. Skyrim isn't Cyrodil, no matter how badly the Imps, and even some of the Nords, wish it could be. I am a Stormcloak Captain. He was an Imperial-supporting piece of trash. My word should be enough for you to go off of. Every big decision you make will rub off on her. Best that she sees you making the right ones." They rounded the corner at the end of the main street of the Plains District, and headed up the steps to the Wind District. Boldir's home was near the entrance, but they walked past it without stopping. "First, I don't need advice on how to manage my family. Second, if you'd had it your way, he'd have been stabbed then and there. That's not what I want to teach my daughter to be like." Boldir pulled out Thulik's dagger and handed it over. "We need to do this officially... Why did you hate him so much anyway? This goes beyond beyond military reasons. I can tell when something like this is personal." "Officially. Now you really do sound like an Imperial. And yeah, I do hate him." Thulik's face grew momentarily sad, but he immediately corrected that before Boldir could see. "He killed my brother." This caused Boldir to stop in his tracks. He tried to put himself in Thulik's shoes. If Idolaf had somehow killed Baldur or Rebec, he had no doubt in his mind that he would've done the same thing. "I see... I'm sorry Thulik. Don't worry. He will die." "Oh I know he will. If you don't do it, I will myself. And you can save the sympathy. All it does is put everyone in a rotten mood." They resumed walking, picking up the pace towards Dragonsreach. The Jarl would be surprised to see them. Boldir had already told him that he wasn't going to be available until his return. He just wanted to clear this whole mess up quickly and leave it to someone else. The last thing I need is to end up delaying the trip. *** Iron-Brow residence Evening "You're delaying the trip?!" Carlotta's eyes were wide, and Boldir was pretty sure that she'd shouted loud enough for Mila to hear from downstairs. He had promised her that she'd get her surprise as soon as they'd finished talking in private. "It's just for a few days honey, I promise. There's nothing I can do about it." Carlotta raised her shoulders and did a masculine, low voiced mimic of Boldir's more eastern accent. "I'll make it very clear that I won't be around here for them this time tomorrow." She dropped the accent and voice. "What happened to that?" Despite being in a sour mood over his and Thulik's meeting with the Jarl, Boldir couldn't resist laughing at Carlotta's ridiculous impersonation. "By Shor you're bad at that! And like I said, it was the Jarl's order that has me staying. What do you want me to do? Ignore one of Skyrim's most powerful Jarls for a vacation?" Once again, she adopted the impression. "Hi, I'm Boldir Iron-Brow, and I'm in bed with the Jarl more than I'm in bed with my wife." Even though Carlotta smiled as she said it, Boldir didn't laugh this time. "We both know that's not true. And that accent is really starting to get kind of-." "You don't like it?" she didn't drop it. "What if I do? What if I talked like this from now on? Would you leave?" "Gods yes" "Hey!" Carlotta dropped the voice and slapped Boldir on the arm while chuckling. "That wasn't what you were supposed to say." Boldir opened his mouth to do a mock impersonation of Carlotta, but he closed it abruptly. There was no way that he could get his deep voice to those levels without sounding like a dying horker. Instead, he gave her a kiss. "I love you. And I promise, I'll make this up to you. I'll clear this Battle-Born business up as quickly as possible, and then we will leave immediately after." Carlotta smiled warmly, her emerald-green eyes reflecting the orange light of the setting sun through the window. The color lit them up like actual gems. Boldir remembered the first time he'd seen her, back in the Bannered Mare, being harassed by the bard, Mikael. Even though it hadn't even been a full year, that felt like an eternity ago. He thought even further back, to a time when he had secretly laughed at the prospect of him finding love when it was brought up by Baldur. We've come a long way, haven't we brother? His thoughts were interrupted by another mock deep voice. "I love you too." Carlotta and Boldir both laughed for a bit, undoubtedly giving it away to Mila that their talk wasn't exactly as important or mature as she'd been lead to believe. Carlotta continued in her real voice. "If you say that this is what you have to do, you know that I'm fine with it. I haven't seen my family in years. What's a few more days?" She hugged Boldir, pulling him in tight. She had to stretch her arms to wrap around his massive frame. Even then, she couldn't make it all the way. "Look at us. It's Mila's birthday and she's twiddling her thumbs while we joke about your accent." "You're right." Boldir crossed the room and opened his small safe. Inside was, among a few other things, Mila's sheathed dagger. He looked out the window as the sun dropped lower and lower. Perfect. Mila looked bored as she waited for her mom and Boldir to make it downstairs. She'd spent the last ten minutes reading a riddle book that Lucia had gotten her. She'd meant to ask her friend where she'd gotten the money for such a thing, but then, after thinking about it for a minute, and observing that the book already seemed somewhat used, she figured that it was best if she didn't ask. "There you are. Was it a good talk?" "Err..." Boldir looked at his step-daughter's blank face. He really could not tell if she was asking because she already knew they'd spent most of it joking, or if she genuinely was curious. "Yeah. It was." He decided to switch the conversation around to her favor. "You still want that surprise?" Mila's solid expression cracked, and she let out a big smile. "Do I? I can't stop thinking about it!" "Well you have to wait..." Boldir hid a smile at the tortuous news. The girl's face had instantly gone downcast. In truth, he hadn't even finished his sentence. He waited several more seconds before finishing. "... until we get to the backyard." Mila's eyes instantly shot back up. "Alright!" She hopped from her seat and zoomed out the front door. After about three seconds, her head popped back in. "Come on, come on, come on!" Boldir and Carlotta smiled at each other as she disappeared again. Once they were all in the backyard, Boldir knelt down in front of a giddy Mila. "Listen. We talked about this only a few days ago... You aren't a child anymore, and you should not be treated as such." Boldir reached to his back and pulled the sheathed dagger from where it'd been tucked under his belt. He held it out in front of Mila, whose smile had faded, and was replaced by a look of wonder. "This isn't your wooden sword. It is a real weapon, and it is not for playing with. Here." He held it out to her. Mila held out the weapon, and slowly pulled it from it's sheath, marveling at the blade as she did. "This is..." She was speechless. Everything about it felt perfect. It was lightweight, and small enough to easily handle. Mila felt so much excitement bottled up in her, that it made her want to to let out a squeal, especially when she saw her favorite animal, a fox, prowling along the side of the blade. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and let it out through her mouth, trying to calm her nerves. No. Nord grown-ups don't squeal. After some time spent admiring the blade in a near trance-like state, Mila looked up at Boldir. "Thank you." "It's not over yet." Boldir looked over at the horizon, watching the sun finally finish its descent to where no man could see it, taking its light along with it. As the light of the sun faded, and more of the night sky began taking on the light of the moon, a faint white glow began to emit from the dagger. As the sunlight faded more, and the moonlight grew in dominance, the glow grew brighter. "I made this at the Lunar Forge. It seemed fitting considering you helped take it." Boldir smiled. "When this dagger is exposed to the moonlit sky, it will glow, and anything you cut with it will burn as if the blade were on fire." He touched the glowing blade with his fingers. "But it still feels as cold as any other metal." Mila's eyes had never been so wide in her life. She'd never known magic, and had never owned anything magic either. This present was far beyond anything she would've expected. Even the horse she'd secretly been wanting didn't compare. "I-I uhh..." She stammered, unsure of what to even say. "I thought you didn't like magic. "It's for elves" you said." Why did I say that?!? "Wait! I mean- I love it! I was just wondering-" "This is Nord magic." Boldir smiled. "The same rules don't apply. I know what you meant. It's fine. Happy birthday darling." He stood up and ruffled her hair, but Mila was too mesmerized by the beautiful glowing weapon in her hands to protest. Boldir backed up next to Carlotta. The two stood by the house watching as Mila began performing a few practice swings. I'll have to teach her how to use that. He looked at his wife. Her expression was hard to read right now. "She likes it." "Yeah. She does... What are you thinking about?" "I was thinking..." Carlotta turned her head to look at Boldir. "This time a few months ago she was a child. A mature one maybe, but still a child. Now, whether we like it or not, she isn't a child. You've only been in her life for a short time, and I think that you are influencing it more than even I could." Boldir thought back to what Thulik had said to him that morning. That every decision he'd make would rub off on Mila. If that is true, then I DO need to make the right decisions. "Then it's a good thing I have you to keep me on the straight and narrow huh?" Carlotta smiled. "I'm not worried. You are a good person. If Mila is trying to be more like you, then it's not a bad thing." I hope you're right. Boldir stared ahead at Mila, watching the glowing white blade dance through the air as she practiced. Gods I need to teach her how to use that thing.

Dales Motierre, Skjari Night Imperial Palace Dales was exhausted as she stumbled through the dark halls of the imperial palace, with torches lighting her vision.. Twelve hours of nothing but pointless honeyed words, listening to people argue over and over again, and demands from the "glorious" Elder council. Dales wanted nothing more than to just find some servant girl to lay. She smiled at the thought, "Hmmmm...that would be nice...long-black hair...NO, a one with short brown hair..." Suddenly she heard a familiar voice from behind. "Speaking to yourself?" Dales turned around and saw Skjari standing there with crossed arms and hint of disapproval in his eyes. Unknown to Dales, she was actually muttering her thoughts out loud. "Oooppps...clumsy me. I think I am." Dales said, with a light chuckle. "Anything you need master this late?" "I've been getting complaints from women about your advances. Not to mention that knight holding a speech about your behavior to the public." He did not sound happy "Huh, what do you mean? Who's complaining? What knight?" Dales looked genuinely confused and interested. "Practically everyone that has rejected you, some of the women in the staff for example. And there was a knight outside the palace holding a speech, mentioning your preferences and behavior. Such things don't go that well with the public. Though luckily he got crazy and got himself killed, his words got discredited somewhat because of that, but they still linger in the masses he spoke to." "Why would people care about my preferences?" Dales still looked confused "It's not like me not liking men is going to affect their Daily lives." She continued, "Furthermore, the people who reject me, I respect their choice, and stop my advances, why are they complaining?" "People want an heir, you know that. And I've also heard some talk about that from a couple of nobles that because of what you do you're not a "proper lady". As much as I don't care about you actually being a "proper lady", these damned nobles in this damned land do. And by making advances on women that don't share your desire you help with spreading this notion. So at least keep the veil up so they don't find too many reasons to be annoyed at you. And for why they are complaining..." He summoned an illusion of an imperial young man that walked up to Dales from her side and whispered dirty things into her ear, not the type of things Dales with her preferences would like to hear. Dales face...dawned with realization, as the man made really flirty and downright perverted comments about her, she said to her master "So...this is how the girls feel when I make advances on them?" The imperial dissipated but the words still lingered a little in Dales's ear. "I may have gone a bit harder than what is considered normal advances. But that was only to make sure you get the idea. So stick to the women you've already bedded and make sure you don't get noticed wit them and that they keep their mouths shut. Don't take any chances on finding new women. I don't want to hear any new complaints or any more gossip from the nobles. And you should consider finding a husband, just to get people to shut up about a damn heir. If you want an advice on how to manage the married life, I suggest that you bring some maids to keep him from you during most of the intercourse." "Or I can threaten to cut off his balls, that might work..." Dales said sarcastically, before nodding her head. "I'll follow your advice then. Thank you for brining this to my attention." And with that Dales turned around, and began to walk towards her quarters.

Skjari, Lorgar Imperial palace Afternoon Skjari was sitting in Lorgar's office, with the feet up at his desk as he leaned back the the chair reading the old spell tome Lorgar had found. Next to the desk was a small ash pile from his old letters he had sent to Lorgar during the invasion of Skyrim. It had been somewhat of a surprise that Lorgar had kept them as it didn't only implicate him but also Lorgar as a traitor, selling out the princess to strange mage. Apparently Lorgar's insanity went deeper than he had previously thought cause if the content of the letters became known; it would mean his exile from Cyrodiil for the next coming decades, Dales would be removed from the throne, sending the Empire into civil strife. And Lorgar would be executed unless he himself fled into exile. The book itself was also a sign of trouble as it contained some wicked magic, there among some necromancy. Though very basic and crude filled out mostly with theorizing, Skjari couldn't help but to wonder what horrors Lorgar could cause with such incomplete information. Suddenly he felt Lorgar's familiar daedricly influenced presence approach and soon the handle of the door was turned and the door opened. An dagger flew right beside Skjari's head embedding itself into the wall right beside Skjari's face, black as midnight. Through the door, entered Spymaster Lorgar Grim-maw, he was clad in usual dress-uniform with the longcoat on, with a pair of dark leather gloves. His dark brown hair was neat, as well as his beard. He had two shortblade strapped to his leg along with his pair of ebony dagger's, which one was now embedded on the wall. "Breaking and entering is illegal, Court mage. As is burning people's private correspondence." Lorgar said, in his usual grim and moody voice. Skjari looked glanced causally at Lorgar as he spoke with calmly. "You missed. And burning the old letter you've kept was doing us both a favor. Do you even know the full ramifications of what could happen if they reached the public?" "I missed intentionally." Said Lorgar quietly, taking a seat on one of the other, lesser, wooden chair located in his office, "If I killed you, which would be much more difficult than throwing a dagger at you, her majesty Dales would suffer. And yes, I was planning to burn those when I got the chance, just kept them long enough to show a few friends." "Hopefully they will have the sense to stay quiet or things will get very interesting here. Anyway, where did you find this book? I suspect you bought it for the binding spell it got in it. Very basic and crude. Then the theorizing around it that tries to make it sound more impressive is just wrong. If you'd use this spell on anyone they'd almost be reduced to mindless thralls. Though I'm a bit curious on how long it would last before burning the soul out of the subject's body." "Wrong." Lorgar took out a two small glasses, and poured some brandy into each glass, he offered it to the mage before saying "I bought that book because it had some interesting theories about magic that was eerily similar to the binding spell you used, I used that as a starting point for my own research, and found some...very "enlightening" information." The glass levitated from Lorgar's hand to Skjari's mouth and he took a sip as he turned the page in the book. "What I said is true, it only got the basics right and even they are relatively crude. And since when did you become a mage?" "I've alway's had a fine taste for "forgotten rituals" and "ancient magic". Though I was quite surprised when I came to the realization your magic comes from the mysterious Soul Cairn." Lorgar said, sipping his brandy. Skjari rolled his eyes at Lorgar's ignorance. "You're so far from the truth you shouldn't even be allowed to study restoration." He threw the book across the room and the lit up in a blue flame as it left his hands, turning the book completely to ash before it hit the wall. "If you wish to study the arcane arts you should find a proper book before you end up hurting someone with magic you don't fully understand." Lorgar's face twisted into a smile, "Are you stupid enough to assume that I would actually want to study how to use magic?" Lorgar said, entertained by Skjari's assumption, "Magic isn't reliable in the thick of combat, things can go wrong, spells can go haywire if your not strong enough to control it. My interest in magic is the knowledge of it, not the use." He took another sip of his brandy, before twirling his dagger in the air, "Am I not correct you used a soul gem, or something similar as a conduit for your binding spell on Dales?" "Though knowledge and use go pretty much hand in hand. You would know that if you had any proper knowledge about magic. And do you really think I will tell you the finer details of the spell? I can tell you I used a conduit and lead you on wild ghost chase and I can tell that no conduit was ever in use and have you go empty handed. Are you really that stupid to trust my word on a matter such as this?" "No, no I don't. I was just curious, curious that a simple thing like a little spell could cause an entire kingdom to be in your pawn." Lorgar stretched out, before placing his hand on the desk, "That book, also mentioned something about the spell originating from Skyrim, and was somehow connected to the infamous dragon cult. I wonder how you learned about it..." "I have my sources. You have yours. Lets just say that not all books from times long forgotten have been destroyed by decay and strife." Skjari chuckled a little. "Shall I get a map so I can point out a location 'where I found it', so you can go on that wild ghost chase?" Lorgar looked at the mage curiously, before saying. "Why are you still here then? Burnt the "inaccurate" spell book, and did both of us a favor by torching the letters." "I'm curious to what you're up to." He said as three other books flew down from the nearby shelf and landed on the desk. He picked up the first one which apparently was one of Lorgar's elven literature books. Bah, elven literature. He thought as he looked over the books cover with disapproving eyes before disposing it the same way as the spell book. "I can't believe you read such books." He said as he picked up the second book on the desk. Lorgar's eyes flashed with slight anger, and he spoke in a calm, yet furry filled voice, "That...was an X-rated Aldmeri Yuri book, written by the famous elven author "Milsea alderi", banned in two provinces. It was worth a fortune..." "Never heard of her." Skjari's voice was uncaring and indifferent. His eyebrows raised slightly as he started reading the second book. "Why do you keep a book about how sailing works? Planning to take to the seas?" "Gimme that." Lorgar sound grabbing the book aggressively from the mages hands. He said somewhat annoyingly "You should respect Yuri, your favorite mistress herself wrote a book of the Genre." Though Skjari was in the middle of turning a page so when the book was ripped from him, the page remained in his hand. "I think she also mentioned something about that book being a big mistake." Though that was a lie based of a guess about the yuri part as he didn't know what book Lorgar actually meant. He glanced at the page. "And you've probably already read this page." He held the page out to his side where it burnt to ash within the blink of an eye, the ash falling down to the floor. Lorgar, voice changed, it become extremely melancholic and cold, and to the untrained eye, it seemed like his skin grew colder. He said, in the emotionless voice, "I think it's time for you to leave, master-wizard." Skjari couldn't help but to smile a little at Lorgar's reaction as he got up from the chair and walked to the door but stopped in the doorway. "You should take care of your wife. Her father was one of those nobles that didn't support your promotion, not that any noble supported that. And now with the rumors about you flying around. I've heard that he's going to cut her out of the inheritance." He then closed the door before Lorgar could respond and made his way back to his quarters. And so, there will be conflict. Lorgar pondered the words the mage told him about his wife, was him being with Milly causing trouble to her? Most likely yes. He would have to make preparations just in case. He went back to his main desk, before writing a letter of introduction addressed to a certain cousin in Solsthiem, before putting it in his lock box hidden under the floorboard. He also hollered for his attendant, Misera. She saluted, and asked the spymaster what he needed, Lorgat told her, "I want two agents looking after Milly at all times, and I want you to ready preparations, I'm going to be gone for a few weeks."

Gracchus Ceno Imperial City Morning The Lord General strolled through the Talos Plaza District, through the hustling and bustling crowds that always accompanied the Imperial City. He waded through, careful not to partake in the shoving some of the more unsavory members of society did. His red cape billowed behind him, and occasionally a passing guard would salute when they recognized the recently famous general. Gracchus dealt with the fame as one would expect. At first he was flustered when civilians would approach him, congratulating him on the victory and sometimes even praising his leadership. Back when he first arrived he would brush it off with a simple thank you. Nowadays he would still accept the praise, and always with a caveat that his men were the real heroes. That the Thalmor couldn't have been defeated without the Stormcloaks was mentioned as well, and he even began participating in small talk with some civilians. The general wasn't too high on his horse to know that it would do people good to actually talk to the men they heard about. All of this Gracchus wasn't used to, contrary to his living in the Imperial Capital for years. He only sparsely went out even when he was here, which was for days at a time but never longer. And back then he was only a legate, mostly unknown to the general populace, so he didn't warrant a second glance. Now he was famous, a war hero, partially responsible for driving out the Thalmor. He was gossiped about in social circles, and the topic of his upcoming wedding was of particular interest. So scandalous, these gossipers said, that he married a bar owner, a lowly peasant, and not a member of the lower nobility as is the custom for great generals. Didn't he want the added fame and power that would bring? Why doesn't he do what his friend Lorgar did? Gracchus merely laughed when he heard these things, sometimes talked about in the very tavern his 'lowly bar owner' happened to operate. They obviously didn't see marriage as an expression of love, but just another way to gain power, fame, and fortune. Such is the nature of politics I suppose. Always so selfish and greedy, with very few politicians actually living up to the promises they make to their subjects. He came upon a speaker, preaching about some injustice as they usually did. His route took him last several, but there weren't near as many since the incident yesterday with the death of a Vigilant. So tragic, he had some psychotic episode and attacked a guard, who was forced to retaliate. With so much reflecting going on, Gracchus hardly noticed he was standing in front of the Temple of the Nine Divines. He opened the giant, ornately carved doors and stepped into the main worship chamber, were only a few days prior he had attended Lorgar's wedding. He briskly strode over to the a priestess, and she turned to address him. "Hello my son. How may I, and the Divines, serve you today?" Gracchus looked around, obviously searching for someone. "Have you seen Father Roxton anywhere? I had a meeting planned for around ten this morning." The priestess gestured to her left, her orange and yellow robes dragging behind her waving arm as she pointed out a hallway. "He is the last room on the right. Have blessed day!" The priestess walked away, presumably to tend to a sullen Bosmer seated nearby. Gracchus followed the hallway, his black boots echoing throughout the cathedral. The windows in the hallway depicted each of the nine divines, the sunlight shining through the brilliantly colored glass. He reached the end, and turned to his right. There, on the door, was a small sign, painted with the name 'Roxton' on it. The Lord General lightly rapped his knuckles on the oak door, and almost instantly it was jerked open. The figure standing in the doorway stood almost six inches taller than Gracchus. The gray, wiry hair reached just below his shoulder, and his face was covered in scruff. His eyes were gray as well, the color of rain clouds, dark and stormy. His face was old, saggy, wrinkling but held a look of confidence and happiness. His was skinny, very twig like, and his robes must have been tailored as they didn't engulf him from being to big. "Gracchus! How are you old friend?" The father wrapped his lanky arms around the general, his robes all but smothering him. When the embrace ended, Gracchus took a step back to gather himself. "I'm good, Imus. How's the return been?" "I'll tell you all about it if you'll come inside," the Imperial priest said, gesturing to the office. Gracchus followed him inside, stepping into the father's world. The office was simple, with a very in-ornate looking desk, a simple chair behind it, a door leading to a bedroom, an a few paintings and bookshelves. The only thing that seemed uncommon was a book, in a metal case with a glass front that gave off an air of being extremely old. Gracchus took a seat, and Father Roxton did the same. "So," Imus said, "what do you know of my escapades?" "Well, being the chief priest of Talos, you were obviously imprisoned. But that's about it as far as my knowledge goes," Gracchus replied. "Aye, I rotted in that hell-hole for years. We had ways of keeping in touch with the outside world, and I made plenty of friends among the other imprisoned Talos worshippers. When we heard of the Stormcloak rebellion, and subsequent victory, we all rejoiced, as finally someone had stood up to the Thalmor tyranny. It was awful after that. They tortured us, trying to root out everyone suspected of Talos worship, spurred onward by the Nord rebellion. I never relented, so they eventually stopped torturing me. We heard about the expedition to reclaim Skyrim, and I heard rumor of your involvement. As you can guess, our information was never very reliable. So when we heard of both armies uniting and attacking the Thalmor, we obviously thought it was just a ploy to get us to let our guard down. It wasn't until we heard about the Emperor being assassinated, and by his daughter nonetheless, that we finally let loose. We were in a special wing of the prison, full of Thalmor guards, goldies as we called them. It wasn't long before the other guards came in and killed the goldies, and we were released before the official order ever came. So I stumbled back here and took up my previous post as the Priest of Talos, and that is as I sit today." Gracchus was captivated by the story. He had heard that Thalmor worshippers were imprisoned, but it was obviously worse than imagined. "That sounds like quite the ordeal. I'm glad you made it out alive." "As am I. I still have nightmares, visions of Thalmor Justicars and master torturers. So, um, besides listening to my sob stories, why did you come?" "We've been friends for a while, back when I first came to the Imperial City and you took me in while I trained to become a battlemage. And, now I'm getting married, so I want you to perform the ceremonies. It'll be at the Laughing Fox Tavern, in the Elven Gardens district. I'll let you know of the date, since we haven't set it yet. What d'ya say?" The skinny man leaned back in his chair, all knees and elbows, and stretched onto his desk. "I couldn't think of anything I would rather do, old friend. It's about time, I thought you wouldn't ever find someone stupid enough to marry you! You can count me in." Gracchus rose, and the men shook hands. "Thank you." As Gracchus' footsteps echoed down the hall, he yelled back, "And bring your appetite!"