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Civil War Aftermath Chapter 3: Season's End


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Boldir, Carlotta, Mila

Eastmarch

Two days after leaving Whiterun, Noon

 

Boldir slept soundly, at least he did until a fly decided that it liked his beard. His nose twitched a few times, and he awoke to find the annoying little insect buzzing around his face. He swatted at it and closed his eyes again. Seconds later, the thing was once again flying over him. Damnit. He opened his eyes and swatted at the fly again, harder this time. He felt the palm of his hand hit it, and quickly clenched his fist, crushing the helpless critter, then wiped its remains on the side of the carriage. He glanced up and saw the sun high above him, then groaned and closed his eyes once more.

Suddenly, they snapped open for a third time. The sun was very high. He turned and saw Carlotta sitting to his right, on the opposite side of the carriage. She was staring back at him with a look of amusement. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked.

 

"Since we set out." she answered. "It's been a good seven hours now, then your buzzing friend decided it was time for you to rejoin your family."

 

He groaned once more. "Don't let me sleep so long next ti-" He stopped himself when he realized where they were. They were riding along a road atop a slope. At it's base was a treeline, and beyond that, there was a massive expanse of open, treeless land, stretching as far north as the eye could see. There were hundreds, if not thousands of little pools throughout it, and long fissures, cracks in the earth, were constantly spewing out steam.

 

"Why didn't you tell me we'd arrived in Eastmarch?" Boldir asked excitedly.

 

Carlotta was surprised by Boldir's excitement. "You didn't exactly show much interest in your sleep.... Why are you worked up over Eastmarch?"

 

"I may have grown up in the Rift, but it only took a few years of living in Eastmarch to make it feel more like a home to me. I know this hold better than an Imperial knows the taste of milk."

 

"Hey!"

 

"Oh, come on, you know Skyrim-borns don't count! We count you two as Nords like anyone else born here."

 

"Uh huh." Carlotta wasn't quite sure how to take the poor attempt at a complement. It was true that she had been born and raised in Skyrim, but she was still born an Imperial. Ah, screw it. she thought. Her mother hadn't really cared for Imperial customs any more than she did. She certainly wasn't going to get mad at Boldir over this, but she didn't want Mila growing up hating her own race because of how he talked around her. She gave him a hard stare, then motioned her head toward her daughter. Boldir got the message and nodded in apology.

 

Boldir glanced up at Mila. She was driving the carriage on her own now. Carlotta had given her the chance to do so yesterday afternoon, and the girl gladly accepted the offer. Now, she liked to consider it her job.

"Anyway, you see that valley north of here. Mila?"

 

"Of course!" Mila hadn't only seen it, she'd been looking out at it almost the entire time that it'd been visible. She wanted to go see the fissures up close, find out what that steam stuff was. She wanted to swim in the pools, or at least splash around in the shallow ones. Mila didn't know how to swim. There wasn't much water in Whiterun that you could get in without getting in trouble, and she'd never in her life been this far from the city.

 

"That whole area is a massive hot spring. See that mountain waaay back there? Off in the distance? That's just the center."

 

"What's a hot spring?" asked Mila curiously.

 

"A hot spring is a place in the earth where hot water constantly spews out of the ground. All of those pools you see down there are heated. That's also why there is steam coming out of those cracks. There's not a warmer place in Skyrim."

 

"Wow..." Mila stared in awe at the miles of springs below her. She now wanted to go down there more than ever, to see and feel these "hot springs" for herself. "So what makes the water hot?"

 

"Oh, uh..." Boldir honestly had no idea what caused the water in the springs to be so warm. He'd heard something about underground volcanoes, but wasn't sure where, and to him, that sounded a bit ridiculous.

 

"Dead Dragons." he said.

 

"What?" Mila and Carlotta asked in unison. Carlotta looked at him with suspicious eyes.

 

"Aye, dead Dragons. A long time ago, back when Dragons were as common as people, they fought one another for control of Skyrim." Boldir wasn't sure how he'd come up with this particular fib, but he was into it now, and had to keep going. "When the Nords killed Dragons, they usually buried them in large mounds, but out here was the site of a major battle. One of the largest in history. A thousand Dragons darkened the skies, burning and killing the men without remorse. This was a time before bows were invented, so the people of Skyrim had no way to fight back against the flying menace. That is when the Nords first learned to shout, you see. They were desperate, and in their desperation, they found a way to turn their own voices into weapons, like the Dragons did. They used this weapon to burn the Dragons back, and to pull them from the sky, then the beasts had no choice but to fight them up close. The men back then were stronger than they are now, and used weapons made of steel that puts ours to shame. They bested the Dragons in this battle, called uh... The Great Battle of... Dragon...'s Tooth."

 

"The Great Battle of Dragon's Tooth?" asked Carlotta, an eyebrow raised. She was doing a very poor job of hiding a grin. Mila however, was having a hard time keeping her eyes on the road. She stared out over Eastmarch, picturing the massive battle of men and Dragons with a look of wonder.

 

"The Great Battle of Dragon's Tooth." he repeated once again. "It was a major turning point in the war. Anyway, the Dragons' corpses littered the entire valley, and it would've taken years to bury them all. So our ancestors left them there. All but the leader, a Dragon named Britufiik." Boldir obviously didn't know Draconic, but that sounded like something a Dragon would be called. "He was buried in a mound atop that mountain in the center of the valley. I've seen it myself. Maybe I'll take you sometime. Anyway, that was thousands of years ago. The Dragons' bodies have been taken by the earth, and their bones by collectors, but their magic stayed here. Now, thousands of years later, it is still leaking out of the ground and heating the water."

 

"That's incredible!" Mila said in awe.

 

"Yeah," Carlotta agreed, her eyebrows still raised. "That was quite the tale."

 

"Aye, Dragons are strange creatures." said Boldir, proud of the bit of history he'd come up with on the spot. "Maybe the story is embellished a bit, who am I to say? But I believe it. What else would cause this?"

 

"I believe it too." exclaimed Mila. She sat quietly for a minute as she stared down the road, working herself up to ask the question that had been on her mind. "So... Can we go see them?"

 

"See what?" asked Boldir. "The springs?"

 

"Ya, I want to see the Dragon steam up close."

 

Boldir thought on it for a moment, then nodded. "We're just a few hours' ride from a turnoff at a mining camp called Darkwater Crossing. I was already considering stopping their for the sake of an easier night's sleep for myself. I know a few of the residents, one of them, a woman named Annekke Crag-Jumper is friend of mine, as is one of the guards." Boldir paused at the thought of Annekke, who had known him when he had been a very different person from the man Carlotta knew. Maybe we shouldn't... Nah, Annekke has no reason to go into detail about any of that stuff anyway. He grinned. He didn't have much choice anyway. He'd already started, and now there'd be Mila to answer to if they didn't do this. "It's near the edge of the springs, and we can take a little trip into the valley from there. Plus, it is on the way."

 

"Are the springs safe?" asked Carlotta, before Mila could respond.

 

"There haven't been any bandits down there in decades as far as I know, and the only threat is the occasional saber cat wondering down to enjoy the heat. They won't bother us unless we get too close. I'd wager we've passed a half-dozen of them in the tundra since we set out."

 

Carlotta was skeptical, but if Boldir, who was if anything overprotective, saw this as a safe thing to do, she figured it couldn't be too bad. "Okay, if you say so, I don't see why we can't." The look of excitement on Mila's face made it more than worth it.

 

***

Darkwater Crossing

Afternoon

 

"So he surrendered, just like that?" asked Carlotta. "Seems uncharacteristic from everything I've heard about him." She and Boldir were sitting on tree stumps with a few residents, just off from the main grouping of tents that made up the living portion of Darkwater Crossing. Despite the fact that Carlotta had always heard it referred to as though it were a town, the reality was less impressive. Darkwater Crossing was nothing more than a mine, a collection of tents, and the homestead of Anneke and Verner; the family who owned the mine and paid the miners. Immediately south of it all was a small lake, with a long waterfall pouring into it from the cliffs that separated Eastmarch from the Rift. To the north spanned the hot springs of Eastmarch, where they would be going with Mila once they were finished with their late lunch.

 

"Yup, our King apparently didn't want to throw away his men's lives in a battle they couldn't win. Preferred to bide his time." An older Stormcloak soldier, a man named Helkier, had been posted in this little camp for several years now, and was a much a resident as the miners. He had been there the day that Ulfric and his men had been captured in the famous ambush that nearly ended the war. Boldir and Baldur had been there as well, but Boldir kept quiet as he allowed the man to tell the story from his point of view.

 

"So what was Ulfric doing down here anyway?" asked Carlotta.

 

"Your husband would know better than I. Was a secret when they came. Not sure if it still is or not."

 

Carlotta looked at Boldir curiously. "Is it still?"

 

"Actually, it isn't." said Boldir. "We were goin-"

 

"Hey Ma! Boldir!" Boldir was cut short by Mila's excited voice. The girl had been in the house talking to Annekke Crag-Jumper; the adventurer-turned-miner who had discovered Darkwater mine in the first place. He'd known her years ago in Windhelm, but it had been a long while since he'd last spoken with her. Still, she recognized him when the cart arrived, and had been more than excited to see him with a wife and kid, who she'd immediately thought to be his. After all, the last time they'd actually spoken was well before Mila was born.

The young girl sprinted from the doorway of the house over to where they sat. Annekke walked behind her. Despite the fact that she had to have been older than Carlotta, the woman looked very young. She was quite pretty, with mid-length dark blonde hair and green eyes. Her face looked clean at the moment, but her dirty clothes betrayed her line of work, with heavy dark stains of soot and dirt coating them.

"Annekke just told me about a carved stone in the springs not far from here! She says it's ancient, and that if you touch it, it will glow to the sky! Can we go there?"

 

Boldir knew the stone Mila spoke of. It was the Atronatch stone. He'd visited it, along with a few others like it before, but as far as he'd been able to tell, they were just some intricately carved rocks. They certainly didn't "glow to the sky" when he'd touched them. Still, it would make for good sight-seeing, so he nodded his head at Mila. "Definitely. I can't believe I didn't think to in the first place."

 

"How long until we can go?" The girl asked excitedly. "Now?"

 

Boldir looked to Carlotta expectantly. He was ready if she was. She gave a similar look to him, then nodded. "I guess now is as good as any other time."

 

"Actually Carlotta, I was hoping that you could stay here." said Annekke. "Not a lot of women pass through here, and it'd be nice to get to know you. You can tell me all about how you and Boldir met."

"Uh..." Boldir wasn't sure if he liked this idea. The Annekke he remembered wasn't the type to jabber on about girlish things like husbands or romance stories. She'd been a Nord to the core. Though it had been many years since they'd last spoken. She'd only been married for about a year the last time they had, and he'd never actually met her husband. Maybe being married for so long had tempered her a bit, as it had him. Still, he could think of several reasons he'd rather his wife and Annekke not talk in private. Not only would it be awkward, but there was also the off-chance that they'd end up talking about him when he'd first met Annekke. "I think It'd be better if Carlotta came with us."

 

"Oh." said Annekke, a little disappointed. "That's fine, I definitely understand." She smiled. "You three enjoy the springs! It really is a wondrous part of Skyrim."

 

"Hold on now." Carlotta glared at Boldir. She had originally planned on turning the offer down, but now, seeing how Boldir was seemingly trying to force her to go with him rather than stay, she was starting to change her mind. "What if I'd rather stay?" She raised an eyebrow at him as she so often did.

 

"Well I- Why would y..." Boldir stopped himself before he said something that could offend his friend, or worse, his wife. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond, as he'd expected Carlotta to want to come with him anyway. Boldir hadn't thought that she'd actually consider staying. "Wouldn't Mila prefer it if we all went?"

 

"As long as I get to go, I'm happy." the girl chimed in.

 

Gee, thanks Mila. "Well, uh okay then. You can stay if you want... of course."

 

Now that she had successfully paid back her husband, Carlotta felt a little bad, and decided that the little game was over and that she would go, but when she turned to Annekke and saw how excited the woman looked, she knew that there was no going back now. Well that blew up in my face. "We'll have a good time, don't worry."

 

Mila was pulling on Boldir's hand, trying to get him moving along. "Alright then..." he said back to them as he was pulled away. "We'll be back by dark."

 

Carlotta watched them leave with hidden regret, then smiled at Annekke, who returned it. It was unusual to Carlotta, the thought of spending time with another woman. She didn't generally socialize all that much outside of work, and usually just spent time with her family, or more recently, Boldir's friends, which, besides Rebec, pretty much only consisted of large, hairy men. Maybe this won't be so bad. "So Boldir says that you found this mine yourself."

 

"Yep." Annekke had a proud look in her eyes. "Found it while exploring the hold. Used to do a lot of that. Before that I lived in Windhelm." She lead Carlotta to the front door of her house and let her guest enter first. "Never expected to one day own a mine, that's for sure." She closed the door behind them.

"How long have you and Boldir been married?" asked Annekke suddenly, once the door had shut.

 

Carlotta was caught off-guard by the abruptness of the turn the conversation had suddenly made, as well as how Annekke now seemed considerably less warm. Not angry or mean, but not nearly as friendly as before. She actually looked to be a bit concerned about something.

"It's-uh been quite a few months, we-"

 

"So Mila isn't his?"

 

Carlotta looked at her sharply. This was thin ice that the woman was treading on now. "She is now, and that's all that matters."

 

The Nord woman let out a breath, then smiled. "It's like I'd figured then." She took a seat in a chair near the hearth fire, and motioned for Carlotta to take the one next to her. "You two are heading to the city Riften, correct? To visit your family? Mila told me."

 

"That's right." Carlotta wan't making any pretense of this being a delightful conversation. Annekke had tricked her with the happy attitude, and now instead of talking like she'd claimed to want, she was prying where she didn't belong. Boldir had told Mila not to bring up where they were going, but the girl had apparently let it slip anyway.

 

Annekke noted Carlotta's coldness. "I'm sorry, don't take this talk for an ill-will on my part. I am just trying to help you. I know what having a daughter is like. Got one of my own living in Shor's Stone."

 

Carlotta wan't entirely convinced. She didn't like being tricked, but the mention of the familiar town name caught her attention. "Shor's Stone eh? That's where Boldir says he came from. But what does anything you can tell me have to do with Mila?"

 

Annekke sighed. "Look, I don't mean this the wrong way, I mean I really don't, but I don't think you know as much about your husband as you think you do."

 

"What?!" Carlotta wasn't sure who Annekke thought she was, but she wasn't going to let some woman Boldir knew from twenty years ago act like she knew about their relationship. "I wasn't aware that you were an expert on what I know about MY husband!"

 

Annekke frowned and raised her hands as if to calm Carlotta. "Please, like I said, I don't mean this to be offensive. It's just... I can't imagine that you'd be bringing your daughter to Riften with him if you knew all about him."

 

Oh... Now Carlotta understood. She felt a little bad for snapping at Annekke now, but also a bit annoyed that the woman didn't think Boldir trusted her enough to tell her this, and that she'd taken it upon herself to get involved in their family's affairs.

"You're referring to his bounty in Riften, aren't you?" asked Carlotta, already knowing the answer.

 

Now, for the first time, Annekke looked surprised. "Well... yes, actually. You knew then?"

 

"Yes, like I said, I know my husband. I know that he killed a man there, years ago, just before he left the Legion, and I know that he is still technically wanted for the murder. That was decades ago though, and he doesn't look like he did back then."

 

Annekke seemed confused. Boldir was a good man, and the murder was more than justified, if his own story was true. Carlotta marrying him despite this was no surprise, but to take her own daughter with him to Riften? That seemed beyond reckless. Suddenly, a thought dawned on her.

"Did he tell you the name of the man he'd killed?"

 

Carlotta, still feeling a bit proud of herself for proving Annekke wrong, immediately felt like that victory was suddenly a bit hollow. She honestly had no idea what the man's name had been, and she knew that Boldir hadn't told her. Still, she didn't want to look like a fool while she was ahead.

"He told me," she lied. "but it's been a while. I don't remember the man's name."

 

"Surprising." said Annekke, her face no less concerned than before. "Most people wouldn't forget a name like this one. His name was Torven. Are you aware of what his surname was?"

 

"Remind me."

 

Annekke frowned. "It was Black-Briar."

 

***

 

Boldir couldn't help but feel slightly nervous about how Carlotta's time with Annekke was going. There were some sensitive topics that they could get into, but Annekke seemed sincere when she said that she genuinely just wanted to get to know Carlotta, and she had no reason that he could think of to tell her about his past. He decided not to dwell on it too much, as it would only cause him unnecessary stress, and there was nothing he could do now anyway. Besides, this was a good chance Mila and him to share some bonding time, something he felt the two of them hadn't had nearly enough of in a while.

He'd never seen Mila happier than when they first got away from the trees and into the hot springs.

 

"It's so warm!" she said, taking her jacket off and leaving it on a rock near the edge of the springs. Indeed, the hot springs of Eastmarch felt unlike anywhere else in Skyrim. Mila hadn't in all her life ever felt such a genuine warmth. Not in the air at least. It was odd, comfortable even, not unlike being tightly wrapped in a blanket at night. Mila thought that this would be a very easy place to go to sleep if she was at all tired. Fortunately, she wasn't. After taking a few moments to embrace the dramatic change in temperature of the area, Mila suddenly left Boldir's side and sprinted to one of the long fissures, to watch the steam churn out of it. She tentatively reached her hand towards the steam, curious of what it felt like.

"Don't touch that!" Boldir quickly covered the distance between them and yanked Mila away from the steam. Seconds later, a heavy burst of the stuff shot from the crack with a hiss. Both of them could feel an intense heat coming from it, even though it was several feet away. Boldir gave Mila a look that said "really?"

 

She gave him an innocent look. "What? I didn't know it would all blow out like that." When Boldir's face remained unchanged, she took a more apologetic tone. "Fine. I'm sorry." she mumbled.

 

"It's okay. Just please try to be a little careful. How do you think your mother will react if you return with your hand red from burns?"

 

Mila grinned slyly. "She'd probably blame herself. You would too I bet."

 

Boldir was once again stunned by the unexpected answer from the thirteen year old girl. "Well of course we would! It's our job to keep you out of harm." He tried to sound fatherly, but coming from his mouth, Boldir couldn't help but feel like he'd made the statement sound more like some sort of military objective. After all, physical harm wasn't exactly something that the average Whiterun family even had to be worried about.

 

Mila grabbed Boldir's hand and pulled him along in the supposed direction of the Atronatch stone. "But if I had run a little later, and touched it when it burst, you couldn't have done anything about it, so why would you blame yourself if it was all my fault?"

 

"It would be our fault for allowing it to happen in the first place. I shouldn't let you get into positions where you are capable of getting hurt like that, you see? What don't you understand?"

 

Mila shook her head and rolled her eyes. "That would mean that you can't let me do anything. How could it be your fault if it's out of your hands?"

 

Boldir started to answer, but stopped. He honestly couldn't see it resolving anything. Mila was actually making sense, even though he knew her to be wrong, but she was already set in her argument, and wasn't likely to back down now. "Blast it girl, bother your mother about this. She'd actually enjoy this little argument." Boldir had his share of strong suits, but skill in bantering was not among them.

 

Mila giggled, proud of the fact that she'd actually managed to not get shot down by Boldir in this argument. All thoughts of it faded, however when they neared one of the many warm pools of the spring. "Ooh, ooh! Can I get in it?" she pleaded, tugging on Boldir's arm.

 

He shook his head. "We're almost to the Atronatch stone now. You won't want to make the rest of the journey all wet. What i-"

His words were cut off by a splashing sound behind him. He spun around to see Mila, still in her traveling pants and tunic, even her boots, laying on her back in the water, kicking her feet and thrashing her arms to stay afloat. All that she'd left behind was her lunar dagger.

"Look Boldir! I'm swimming!"

She laughed with childish merriment that made Boldir smile despite the fact that she'd immediately disobeyed him. This part of the trip was for her enjoyment anyway, and damn if he was going to ruin this moment for her.

 

The water was only about three feet deep, so the term "swimming" may not have been all that accurate, but Mila was simply excited to be in water at all. Back in Whiterun, the only water deep enough to even count was the Jarl's moat, and it was very strictly off-limits. There was the river too, but that was apparently much too dangerous to play around. This water, however, was calm and still, and nobody was going to get on to her for being in it, and she could play as much, and make as much noise as she wanted. Not to mention the heat. If she had been even the tiniest bit skeptical of Boldir's Dragon story before, Mila believed it completely now, for what other than a magical creature could create such a soothing warmth and keep it here for so long? Mila thrashed around a bit, moving her arms in a way that she thought was how you were supposed to to swim. Surprisingly, it was working at least somewhat. She moved in the right direction, but she only actually kept from sinking by planting her feet on the floor of the pool every few strides. From there she'd kick off again and continue on her path. Once she'd made a full circuit around the pool, Mila stopped near the edge where Boldir stood, then dunked her face under the clear water to move her hair out of her eyes. She popped back up. "Aren't you gonna get in?"

 

"Huh?" Boldir blinked a few times and looked down at her. He'd been deep in thought as she'd played. Good thoughts, about his family and how lucky he is to have it. A year ago, Boldir wouldn't have dreamed that he'd be in Eastmarch watching his daughter try to swim in the pools. He wouldn't have thought he'd have a wife, especially one he cared about enough to change his own life so much so that they could be together. He wouldn't have thought any of this. He'd been sad when his axe broke in his last battle with the Thalmor, but now, such a thing seemed so unimportant to him. Seeing Mila, as happy as can be, really reinforced what he'd been thinking for months. That he'd made the right choice.

 

Mila looked at Boldir for a few seconds. He seemed like he was in another world. That wouldn't do at all. She splashed water at him, causing the large Nord to look startled and yell 'hey!'

"I saaaaid, 'aren't you gonna get in?'"

 

"Oh," Boldir shook his head. "No, I don't think I will."

 

"Oh really?" asked Mila with a grin. She lunged out at his legs by the poolside and grabbed at them, hoping to bring Boldir toppling in. Unfortunately for her plan, Boldir was as heavy as he looked, and the Nord didn't so much as budge. She found herself uselessly hanging from his feet, so she let go, falling back into the water.

"You're no fun." she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

 

Boldir felt a little bad when he saw Mila's defeated expression, but not nearly bad enough to get him into that water. He eventually took a seat on a nearby rock, where he sat and waited for Mila to decide that she was ready to move on. It took another half hour or so, during which she splashed and swam and kicked and jumped. She play fought sea monsters and pretended to be one herself. By the time she was done, Mila was feeling exhausted. She climbed out of the pool, retrieved her dagger, and, still soaking, sat right next to Boldir and leaned her head against his arm. Whether this was because she was tired, or because she wanted a free pass to soak his tunic's sleeve, Boldir wasn't sure, but he let it slide. "You tired Mila?"

 

"Yeah. But it was worth it."

 

"So I guess you'd rather just head back then, wouldn't you?"

 

Mila's head snapped up. Any apparent drowsiness in her was now gone. "Of course not! We haven't even seen the stone yet!"

 

Boldir's smile widened. He hadn't expected anything less. "Well, we've still got an hour of daylight to go, and the stone isn't a mile east of here. We'll be able to see it soon."

He stood up and offered Mila a hand. She immediately felt the weight of her wet clothes when she stood, and now knew why people tend to strip down some before swimming. As they walked, Mila began to trudge behind a bit. Boldir turned and waited for her to catch up. "You know, I tried to tell you to save that for the return trip. See why now?"

 

"Yes." she grumbled. Mila picked up her pace to match Boldir's, not wanting to get made fun of anymore for her own lack of foresight. She was glad that she did when they reached the top of a small slope, as it gave her an immediate view of the stone formation ahead. About twenty yards in front of them, down the little slope they stood on, was a grouping of several stones that almost formed a half-circle. Each was taller than a grown man, and shaped sort of like an up-pointed finger. They were old and gray, with many flowers and vines growing around them. The one in the middle stood slightly taller than the rest, and had a hole about the size of a small pulled wagon wheel near the top that went all the way through, allowing you to see out the other end of the formation. The hole was a perfect circle. "Come on!" she shouted to Boldir, racing ahead down the slope.

Upon closer inspection, Mila could see that the larger central stone had a picture carved into it. It took her a moment to recognize what it was supposed to be. "It's a constellation! The Atronach!" She turned back to Boldir to see if he'd gotten close enough to see. "How old do you think these are?"

"Very old." he answered, finally stepping up and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Thousands of years, probably." He gave her a pat. "Go ahead. Touch it. That's what they say you're supposed to do."

Mila nodded and slowly moved toward the large central stone. The rock man carving glared right past her, not caring at all to acknowledge her presence. She placed her palm right on his face, then felt the tiniest of vibrations. Not in the stone though, it was in her. Suddenly, the hole in the stone began to glow a bright white, as did some lines on the stone man. "Whoa!!" she backed away quickly.

"What is it?" asked Boldir.

The light leapt from the hole and traveled from the tip of the rock up to the sky, creating a bright beam that Mila couldn't even see the top of. She turned to Boldir, her face looked as surprised and excited as he'd ever seen. "Look! Can you believe this?! It's amazing!"

He couldn't see anything of note. Had Annekke been right aboht the magic? "What is it? Are you seeing something?"

Mila nodded excitedly. "Yes! There's a light! It really is touching the sky! Go on, you've got to touch it too!"

Boldir frowned. He had touched this very standing stone before, as well as three others. Still, he placed his open palm to the same spot Mila had. As expected, there was no light, no nothing. It was just a nicely-carved rock in his eyes. Yet, for some reason, it was something far more magical in Mila's. He shook his head at her, causing Mila to look disappointed.

"So I guess you don't believe me then?"

"Of course I do." answered Boldir. "There are much stranger things in the world than not being able to see some light. I'm sure there's a reason for it."

Mila smiled and watched the beam for several more seconds before it faded, along with that in the hole and the carving. She touched the stone again, but nothing happened. "Well... This has probably been THE best day of my life!"

Boldir smiled and, to her extreme discontent, ruffled her still damp hair. "Come on, Mila. Let's get back to your mom."
 

***
 

The sun was setting by the time Boldir and Mila had made it back to Darkwater Crossing. It would've been earlier, but Mila had forgotten where she'd left her coat, and they'd spent most of the remaining daylight to locate it. She was grateful that they had by the time the'd left the warm air of the springs behind, as her damp clothes coupled with Skyrim's typical chill left her shivering like crazy. Upon entering the camp, she immediately rushed to where their tent was pitched so that she could change into something less likely to freeze her to death. During this time, Boldir searched for Carlotta. But to no avail. Next he tried to find Annekke, but she was nowhere to be found either. Finally, he found a passing miner, an older looking Nord man. He told him that Annekke was in the mine right now, but he could catch her coming out. When asked about Carlotta, the man said that he'd seen her wonder over to the lake north of them.

Sure enough, Boldir managed to find his wife sitting on a rock near the edge, staring into the murky water. She appeared deep in thought. He made no attempt to hide it from her as he approached, and put his hand on her shoulder when he reached her. "Everything alright?"

 

At first, Carlotta didn't respond. She just kept staring out at the water. Boldir was patient though, and almost a minute later, she finally looked up.

 

"You know, I have always overlooked how quiet you are about your past. I didn't care that you killed a civilian half a life ago, I told you as much. I married you for who you are now, but Boldir..." She had to struggle to find the right words she was looking for. Carlotta hated being angry, and least of all at him, but him not mentioning the Black-Briars was not something that she could just let go. "There are some things that you can't keep from me. Why didn't you say that the man you'd killed was a Black-Briar? Did you not think that was an important detail?"

 

Boldir had feared this would happen. He wasn't sure why Annekke decided to tell her. Maybe she had changed just like he had. Still, she wasn't even supposed to know that they were going to Riften. "When I told you about what happened, you said that the details didn't matter to you."

 

"That was before I knew that it was the Black-Briars that were after you!" Carlotta rubbed her temple. She could feel a headache coming on. "Gods, and I thought you were overprotective if anything!"

 

"They aren't after me." said Boldir. "If they were, I'd have been found a long time ago. The man I killed, Torven, he was Maven Black-Briar's brother. She only knew three things about me back then, that I was Legion, what I looked like, and that my name was Boldir. Didn't even have a surname yet. Now, I am not Legion, look nothing like I did back then, and have a surname. I've been to Riften since then without an incident."

 

Carlotta tried to calm herself. She knew that Boldir had been against the trip in the first place, and that it had been her that had convinced him to go. What she couldn't get over was that he had allowed her to do so while knowing how dangerous it was. "Boldir, why didn't you tell me? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is for you? What about Mila? I know about the Black-Briars, they're dangerous people! It's like the Battle-Borns all over again!"

 

"This is nothing like the Battle-Borns." Boldir spoke true. Maven was far wealthier and more powerful than Olfrid. "It has been a very long time. They most likely even think that I'm dead. I'm wanted, but they've also forgotten about me."

 

"What about Maven? Has she forgotten about you too?"

 

Boldir knew the answer was 'no'. People don't forget those who kill their families. "I doubt it, but our chances of seeing, much less interacting with Maven are very slim." Boldir sighed. "Look, I know you're worried. I have been thinking about this since the trip was planned, and trust me when I say that I wouldn't have allowed it if I wasn't confident in my ability to go unnoticed there."

 

"But what if you don't?!" Carlotta raised her voice a bit. "What if you get noticed? If what everyone says about the Black-Briars is true, they could punish all of us. These people are dangerous!"

 

These people are dangerous? "So am I." said Boldir with more venom in his voice than Carlotta was used to. He was growing tired of the thought that they should be fearing some snooty noble. "The Battle-Borns were dangerous too, and they decided to make an enemy of me. Now, if you or I were to approach any one of them, they'd turn their heads and hope we keep walking. I never told you about that either!"

 

Carlotta didn't like Boldir's tone. It was unlike any she'd heard from him before, and she realized that he probably talked like this more back when he was a soldier. As for the Battle-Borns, she wasn't sure what he meant, but she figured that he must have threatened them somehow. Still, it was like he'd said... "The Battle-Borns are nothing like the Black-Briars."

 

"That doesn't change things. I'm not afraid of them, and you shouldn't be either." He noticed Carlotta's uneasiness and calmed down a bit. "Look, I don't want you to never see your parents or siblings again because of something that happened a long time ago. I don't have any parents. My family have always been my brothers and sisters in arms. The same applied to Tolik, apparently." He knew he probably struck a chord with Carlotta when he mentioned her previous husband, but he continued anyway. "I don't want to be responsible for Mila growing up without ever seeing her grandparents."

 

"She never would've gotten the chance to do so anyway, if not for you. We never could've afforded to take this trip at all with our business alone." Carlotta wrapped her arm around Boldir's. "I know you are trying, Boldir, but you have already brought so much good into this family. You don't have to try to prove yourself by making this happen."

 

"Yes," said Boldir, "I do. You are my wife, and Mila is, at least in my eyes, my daughter. You and I see it that way. But Mila doesn't. To her, You are her mother, and I am Boldir. She doesn't call me father, even when she wants to, she stops herself, and when she accidentally does, you can tell from her face that it was an accident."

 

Carlotta was dumbfounded. "Of course she sees you as a father! She wanted us to get married! Remember?"

 

"That doesn't make me her father. She spent most of her life without one. Me suddenly jumping into it may make things easier, even better, but it doesn't automatically make me her father. Today, she called me Dad without even thinking about it. I want to make that normal. Going back now, while she is excited to see her real kin for the first time, will crush her, and it will be my fault." Boldir knew that if Maven found them, and he failed to stop her, it would be worse, as well as his fault. "Maybe I shouldn't go. Maybe you two should go without me, and I should stay in Shor's Stone until you are done."

 

Carlotta, despite everything, realized that she did not want that. Neither her not Mila would enjoy Riften as much if he didn't go. He may have been right about Mila not calling him father, but that didn't mean that he wasn't seen by her as family. If he were to leave now, for whatever reason, she wasn't sure how she'd react. It would devastate her, and she knew it would Mila as well. "We aren't doing that. This is a family. We do these things together.

 

Boldir sighed. "Then our only choices are to go back, or keep going. I take it you want to go back?"

 

"I don't know..." Boldir was right in saying that this would upset Mila, and she herself had been more than excited at the thought of getting to see her family again. But the consequences of Maven finding them... "Do you really think that you can manage to keep from being found out?"

 

"I have done it before."

 

"...And if you were, you think you could deal with Maven like... like you did with the Battle-Borns?"

 

"Yes." Boldir had been unsure of this for a long time, but over the past few weeks, after giving it much thought, he was confident that if it came down to it, he could bring down Maven if he had to. It would probably have major consequences for himself, but it would only be a last resort to protect his family anyway. He'd go to any measures to ensure that they weren't hurt.

 

"Alright," Carlotta sounded unsure, but the confidence in Boldir's eyes bolstered her own. "Alright, yes, we will go." She felt a little nervous still, but that nervousness was accompanied by excitement. She was going to see her parents again, and Mila and Boldir would finally get to meet them for the first time. The chances of something going wrong were low, and she couldn't let that tiny chance keep her down throughout the whole trip. It was a happy occasion. She smiled up at Boldir with a renewed happiness. "We'll make this work. It will be a good time."

 

"Yes, it will." Boldir hugged her, and the two sat staring out at the lake, the only noise the distant rush of the waterfalls at the far end. It went on for minutes, each of them content in the other's presence. Reluctantly, Boldir thought back to the camp, and knew he had to interrupt the good moment. "You know, Mila will likely be asleep by now. She was exhausted when we got back. We should get back to her."

 

"Not yet." said Carlotta, resting her head against his arm. It was the first time that they'd been together, just the two of them, in quite some time. She didn't want to end this moment yet. Mila was safe where she was, and could wait a little longer.

Boldir knew what she was thinking. That they hadn't had a private moment in quite a while. Now that the arguing and talk of danger was over, it was nice, no, it was perfect. Just sitting here, looking out over the lake, with the falls in the background and Masser and Secunda reflecting off of the water. He looked down and into her bright green eyes. They were so deep, it felt mesmerising to him. "I don't think you even know how lucky I feel right now."

 

"I do." said Carlotta, raising up to kiss him. She whispered in his ear. "I feel it too."

They kissed, long and passionately, like they hadn't in weeks. Since before all of the Battle-Born trouble. Neither was sure what had brought this on them, especially after the tension of the previous few minutes, perhaps it was the solitude, and the beauty of the spot, but whatever it was, all of that tension was gone, replaced by a new feeling. It wasn't long before the rock they'd been on sat empty, and the two were in laying together the grass by the water. If they were wrong, and there was not to be another good time on this trip, the same could never be said about that night.

It would be hours before they returned to their tent to find Mila asleep. Their bedrolls were already laid out, inviting them to sleep. They gladly obliged, and in less than a minute, both were sound asleep, thankful for the chance to sleep together for the first time since they'd set out. Just before falling asleep, Boldir's thoughts went back to Mila, and how she had described this as the best day of her life, and he realized that these words may very well have been accurate for himself as well. It really had turned out to be a good day.

 
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Tacitus

Midday

The River Niben, outside Bravil

 

The waters of the Niben flowed south, headed towards the waters of Niben Bay. Tacitus stood on the aft castle of the Tempest, spyglass in hand as he surveyed the city of Bravil.

 

The skooma lord's slum town simmered in the distance, heat wars visible from the humidity produced by the surrounding swampland. Tactius saw guards, if you could call them that, posted on the walls, while new banners depicting bloody skulls or skeletons danced from the battlements. The hastily manufactured flags were everywhere, proclaiming skooma superiority.

 

Tacitus moved his gaze away from the city and towards the waters on its eastern edge. Several skiffs and smaller boats sat anchored at the docks, while the skooma smugglers huddled in or around them, eyeing the warship. The drug runners were so distinguished by their patches, sewed on to the jackets they wore so the poor citizens inside the city knew not to mess with them.

 

The admiral lowered the spyglass, and turned to his first mate, Langley Civello.

 

"Order the battlemages and archers to starboard side, with orders to fire on my signal," Tacitus commanded.

 

The orders were carried out, with the forty or so archers and five battlemages gathered on the left side.

 

"Keep us straight and true, and don't stop or turn as we sail past," Tacitus told the helmsman.

 

The boat was almost parallel with the smugglers, who realized the intent of the archers and fled for the city.

 

"Mages, fire! Sink the ships! Archers hold you're fire!"

 

Langley repeated the command, their voices carrying over the ship. Fireballs flew forth from the mages' hands, burning sails and pitch covered rope with ease. Cheers erupted from the crew, as many had family or had grown up in Bravil.

 

Soon, the ships themselves caught fire, and with nothing to stop the flames the boats burned and slowly sank into the murky river. By that time, the Tempest was long gone, and all that they could see was smoke rising into the sky, miles away.

 

That'll send them a message, Tacitus thought with a chuckle.

 

**

 

As the sun set in the west, the Imperial flagship pulled into the military docks at Leyawiin. Tacitus disembarked, met with salutes from the other captains. Tacitus walked into the headquarters, while the captains followed him. They all took their seats around the table, with the High Admiral at the head.

 

Normally a very gruff person, he had no problem speaking to his fellow captains, losing all reservation when he did.

 

"I've gathered you here, the Eastern Imperial Fleet, to discuss our next course of action. The Empress wants us to raid Thalmor shipping, mostly going to Elsweyr. The Western Fleet will harass Valeenwood from Anvil, and hopefully we can disrupt their hold on the seas. Any question?"

 

Several captains looked around, and only after a minute if silence did someone speak up.

 

"How will we divide the ships?"

 

Tacitus had anticipated the question, and already knew the answer, but was hoping someone had the balls to ask it instead of just sitting there like a yes man.

 

"Both fleets will divide into six groups of five, featuring one carrack, two dromons, and three galleys or caravels each. At any one time, two of the six groups from either fleet will be deployed, leaving the other four groups to protect Anvil in the west fleets case, and four groups to protect Leyawiin, in our case."

 

"Why not sail as a fleet?" someone asked.

 

"The way I have it planned, we can be in and out quickly, without much time for the enemy to react. And this way we don't leave our ports undefended."

 

"When will we start?"

 

"The first flotilla, led by the Tempest, sets sail tomorrow at sunrise. We'll prey upon the ships headed for Senchal. One last thing, avoid conflict with the Dominion navy if at all possible."

 

Tacitus rose, as did the captains, who saluted him. He quickly returned the salute, then walked briskly down the docks back towards his warship, and his bed.

 
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Dales, Homunal, Witchie, Lilly

Imperial City

Night 

 

Laying in her bed, was the small body of Empress Dales Moitre, beside her on her nightstand was a large tea set, with a cup filled with brownish liquid. Beside the tea set, was three slices of toasted bread coated in jam. Her majesty didn't have to much of an appetite today. Her face was still quite pale, and her breathing was still labored, but she had no doubt improved since her incident yesterday. She could stand up fine once again, and she wasn't constantly tired. Regardless, her head maid, Miku, insisted she rested in bed. It was a bore. 

 

Dales slightly stirred; she couldn't spend her entire day cramped up in here. Her mood was bad enough. They say unpleasant thoughts festered in the soul until they become as blackened as the dark. 

 

I can’t believe I took my anger out on master. He has given me so much...

 

Because of the ambiguous figure known as the "Witch King", Dales has been able to make meaning to her life, instead of wasting picking flowers and being a pawn to the dominion, she was able to liberate her people from the White-Gold Concordant. Furthermore, because of him, she was no longer a scared, little girl, she had power...true power.  The feeling of control, which she had sorely lacked. It was like...honey. Sweet so sweet...yet  sticky, and would bind you if you devoured it too fast. She still remembered, and dreamed of the days when her father was in complete control of her life, listening to ever order, and fearing if he would take out his frustrations on her like how he did with her mother. Those days still sent shivers down her spine, she had no one except Elan. As much as she had loved Elan, she knew Elan had the dominance in their relationship, Dales had needed Elan, not the other way around…Dales violently shook her head,

 

I can’t be thinking like this…not now, not ever…and yet. I feel anger…I feel sorrow. This self-control, isn’t self-control…my entire life, even after I committed patricide…has been chosen for me. I’m drunk off the Illusion of control and power.

 

Dales small fists curled into a ball, as anger filled her once again,

 

Was everything an illusion then? My love…my love for her a fantasy. A phantom non-existing? Was it infatuation? Or…maybe Elan was usingme? I was such in such a vulnerable state…the beatings…I needed someone…who would hold my head as I wept…could she have just used me for her own ends…telling me what I wanted  to hear…

 

Nothing was making sense in her mind. A person she loved, her master, was using her as a puppet and a weapon, he forcibly bounded her soul to him. This too was an illusion brought out by magic. She was being forced to love someone again, not out of necessity like before, but out of…she didn’t now. It was an illusion, simply an illusion. If this was non existing, then could the love of her life be an illusion? Did Elan truly love her?  Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see her face …her sparkling green eyes…her words.

 

“No more crying…smile…â€

 

It haunted her still. Never leaving her mind. When she touched her many lovers…she sometimes pretended she was touching Elan. So her love was real…but was Elan’s? Did she love her? Or was she simply using her as a pawn like everyone else.  Dales tiredly put her hands to her face, and started to cry. She didn’t understand anything…her mind was so clouded.  She was so confused. Hopelessly lost in the dark of her mind.

 

 Nothing had gone as she envisioned. Lorgar, had betrayed her and the Empire. Tullius had betrayed her and the empire, ending up being executed for his crimes. She was distant from her people, who no doubt hated her for her constant whoring and homosexuality. The Elder Council plotted to dispose of her. The Navy didn’t trust her, and the imperial legion was divided. The Septims thrived, the Mede survived against all odds, and yet…the empire was crumbling under her pathetic, useless fingers. She was trash…not good for anything. Her father was right about her, at the end of the day, she was nothing but a scared little girl. Elan couldn’t love someone as pathetic as Dales…

 

As Dales wept and brooded in the shadows of her room, a knock could be heard on her doorway. It was Miku,

 

“Your majesty?â€
 

Dales quickly wiped away her tears, and cleared her shaky voice,

 

“Yes Miku?†Dales called out, Miku responded with “You have a visitor.†The door slowly opened revealing a person in a snow white/ocean blue Kimono, with the patterns of waves and golden goldfish. She had very long, snow white hair, and eyes as deep of the Ocean. It was her close friend Homunal. She came running towards Dales with her cute, and worry filled voice,

 

“Dales are you all right?†She said, running up to Dales bed and hugging her tightly. Dales cheeks flushed red as she said “I’m fine Nami.†Nami smiled, her innocent child-like smile as she contuied to hug her, “Then I’m glad.†Seeing her pale face,, made Dales feel much better, and her thoughts move from herself doubt and self-esteem, to Nami. Name blushed before whispering, “I love you Dales† Dales couldn’t see, but “Nami†was smiling deviously.

 

****

This had been a lousy day. Dales poisoned, Tullius losing his head and turning traitor, Jon escaped and is still on free foot. Tullius had warned Jon and he and his forces had packed up and left in a hurry to the north. Skjari forced his army into a quick march to catch, and due to them expecting to be back at camp before dinner, they didn't have any extra weight to slow them down. About an two hours later they caught up with Jon's men. They had taken up a defensive position along the road, blocking them. They were too few to be Jon's full force and were obviously just a delay. Skjari had tried to convince them to surrender and not die for this lost cause. But they had stubbornly refused. Best option then would be to have one force rush the center while another tried to circle around their defensive position and try to catch up with Jon. But they hadn't brought any camp equipment or, more importantly, food. So it would be vital for them to catch up with Jon fast. But instead Skjari ordered the men to take up position and start bombarding Jon's men with arrows and fireballs, hoping they would charge them and leave their defensive position. Some tried to return fire with their hunting bows but most just hid behind the shields, hoping to buy Jon as much time as possible. After some time they finally gave up. The smell, screams and sight of people on fire became too much. After they had surrendered he gave them the choice to join the legion, those who did were taken back to camp for disciplining. After everyone had made their choice, those who didn't join were executed. Skjari had intended that those who didn't join would instead give up their weapons and armor, but their first refusal for surrender had changed his mind. It was too late to continue the chase now and everyone headed back to camp and when they arrived it was already dark. The men would rest and take up the chase in the morning, this time led by the new general, an imperial woman named Cecilia. Though she looked more like an ox than a woman Skjari thought. On his way back to the palace Skjari thought the day couldn't get any worse and then the rain came pouring down on him from the black cloud high above, hiding away the stars of the night sky. He put up a ward above his head to keep the rain away and opened the door to the palace. 

 

 

Suddenly, Platinum hair filled his vision as a person fell on him, before he could react, a voice filled his ears, 

 

"My lord, my lord!!!!?"

 

"Get off me!" He shouted while trying to get her hair away from his face. 

 

"Forgive me." It was Lilly. Unlike usual, however, she was in the full uniform of an Pentiulas Occultus soldier, with it's dark plates and blackened leather. At her side was an ebony imperial gladius, similar to the one Tullius occasionaly used, along with four ebony knives. She brushed her hair away, as she stood up gracefully. If Witchie looked in the distance, he could see around a dozen Pentiulas Occultus soldiers running up the stairway with there blades drawn. She offered Witchie her hand, 

 

"I'll explain on the way, Dales life could be in danger."

 

"Again?" He didn't sound that worried but instead frustrated. 

 

She sprinted towards the advancing collum of her soldiers, with Witchie following close behind, she quickly said,

 

"I found our little Bosmer, she wasn't hard to find. She was taking orders from someone else. After a little convincing, she told us everything." She was breathing hard. 

 

"And who might that be?" He said casually as he followed with quick steps. 

 

"A certain girl with long white hair, and an affinity for Akavari Kimonos." Lilly said, letting Witchie figure out who it was.

 

"Great, that girl." Bloody bruniik. "So what's happening now?" 

 

"That girl has been at the imperial city for six months doing who knows how much planning." She was now in the front of the group, and kicked open a doorway. "******* assassin. She's most likely a high ranking member of the Dominion Shadow Corps." She answered the mages question with haste,"Deploying three teams. The other two are waiting at the palaces entrances just in case she escapes, while the other one, us, is going to storm into the room." As you said that, her hands began to glow bright violent and pink, as some kind of conjured bow appeared, except on one end of the bow, a pink rose was visible, and the color of the bow wasn't the same. She drew the bow to her side as she continued running. 

 

"So where is she now?" He felt he already knew the answer. 

 

"Dales room." 

 

"I'll go inside. Alone." He said as he sped up and took the lead to Dales's chambers. 

 

Lilly nodded, as her form grew distant. After awhile he reached the room. The entrance had two dead people, an imperial guardsmen, and a blue-haired maid. Her form, and her face were covered in blood, and her lifeless hands were on her stomach, as if she tried to cover her wounds to attempt to stop the bleeding before she died. It was Miku's corpse. 

 

Like if my mood wasn't bad enough already. He opened the double doors slowly with both hands. 

 

The room was lightened with candles, and spacious. On her own bed, the form of Dales Moitre was sprawled out, with an ever increasing pool of blood forming on the sheets. She was stark naked with no clothes on, and he could see large amounts of sweat on her hair and body. Her eyes were closed, and you could notice the smallest, tiniest, amount of breathing. She was still alive. Standing on the edge of one of the  windows, was Homunal. Her long white haired sprawled across her shoulders, and her deep blue eyes sparkling, there was a slight smile forming on her lips as she noticed the man enter the room, before he could do anything, she leaped from the edge.

 

He quickly conjured up three wolf shaped familiars that jumped out of the window after her. Then quickly hurried to Dales as he began casting healing spells quickly, but the bleeding only slowed down to half the speed and wound almost refused to close. That bruniik had done something. Some kind of very strong magic resistant poison. His frustration almost reached it's limit as he cast the spell that took them to his home. When they arrived he felt weaker, the poison had made it much harder to teleport Dales. But now it didn't matter. He held one hand up against the crystal high up in the dome roof. A fiery beam shot down towards him and he could feel the power surge through him. Now it wasn't a question of if or when as the wound closed itself fully almost in an instant.

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Topal Sea, south of Elsweyr

morning

 

The coin was the real problem, Mithnar reflected. He'd never met a sailor who could see too much coin, but now he knew there was such a thing.  The coin bothered him a lot more than the line of clouds on the northern horizon.

 

His merchant cog Evening Star churned along on a northward course across the Topal Sea, bearing a heavy cargo of foodstuffs, wine, weapons, and chests of gold and silver bound for Senchal on  Elsweyr's southern coast.  Mithnar, the captain, had been a sailor all his some hundred years.  Before he was born, all the shipping companies had been nationalized by the Thalmor ruling council, but only during the wars of conquest had it mattered much to him. The Dominion was once again on war footing, however, and most of his cargo was meant to supply troops gathering in Elsweyr and Valenwood. The chests of coin, he assumed, were for paying mercenaries.  It was because of these chests that he'd been assigned two dozen soldiers as guards, given a navy cutter as escort ship, and forced to bring along a justiciar as political officer.  The justiciars were zealots, theoretically not corruptible, and only they could be trusted with such a task.

 

The justiciar, Hyardil, spent the first few hours questioning Mithnar and his crew about their family histories and political inclinations.  It was obvious that he thought this task beneath him, but was using the opportunity to sniff out unworthies.  It was a relief, then, when the two ships hit a squall.  The justiciar looked up at the sky as if it, too, might be a traitor to the Dominion, but when his robes started getting soaked through, Hyardil went below into the cargo hold.  Even as they were battered with tropical winds, Mithnar enjoyed the peace and quiet.  This was a small storm and would soon pass.  For the moment he could just be a sailor again, just do his work and forget the endless demands of politics and wars.

 

**

The clouds bothered Tactitus as well, his brow furrowed as he stared off from his position on the aft castle. His helmsman, a much older sailor with years of experience behind the wheel quietly hummed to himself, the waves from kicked up by the storm bothering him little, if at all.

Spread across the deck, his sailors busied themselves, stowing away things that might fall off in the rougher seas. The archers huddled together, sitting on barrels and crates, and were unhappy to give up their seats to the sailors. Some arguing ensued, but eventually the makeshift chairs were given up and stored below decks. The battlemages watched and chuckled at the conversation from their perch on the fore castle. The two groups mostly kept to themselves, the archers usually playing cards while the mages read and studied, occasionally playing games as well.

The flotilla had been at sea for two days now, the Tempest accompanied by the dromons Minotaur and Relentless. Also along were two galleys, smaller versions of the dromons, and a caravel, which looked graceful next to the lumbering of the rowing ships.

Up ahead lighting flashed from cloud to cloud, and several seconds later thunder boomed at them from the south.

That will be fun to navigate. At least we'll get to see how these landies handle a little storm. Tacitus thought.

 

The Altmer ship was riding low due to its heavy load, so its crew had some bailing to do. Mithnar hoped that the justiciar was soaking in bilge, too, but he knew better.  He did his best to keep his ship in good repair even though every plank and joust had to be justified to the requisitions office.  The cutter, small and fast, just bounced along the waves, though Mithnar saw its crew bailing, as well.

 

He was at least grateful for their presence.  Raiders knew better than to get too close to Alinor proper, but with the imperial navy taken off to Skyrim for most of the year, approaching the mainland was risky.  Pirates had gotten bolder.  It was ironic that they depended on the "inferior" empire to help keep the waters clear for shipping, and you could never say so aloud, but Mithnar kept to himself anyway. The very sight of the cutter would keep off the meaner sort of pirates.

 

As the squall cleared, Mithnar sent a lookout to scurry up the rigging.  He was mainly worried that they'd been blown off course. If you got too close to Black Marsh, even a navy cutter wouldn't be an assurance.  The lookout scanned the horizon with a spyglass, stopped suddenly, adjusted, then called down, "Ships approaching from the northwest, Captain!  Looks like four... no, five."

 

"What are their colors?"  Just as Mithnar spoke, the justiciar appeared at his shoulder like an unwelcome shadow, and also waited to hear the answer.

 

From crows nest atop the Tempest, the lookout shouted down, hands cupped around his mouth, "Enemy ships! Flags are Thalmor!"

The High Admiral smiled, a rare sight indeed.

Our efforts aren't fruitless after all. This shall be fun indeed, Tactius thought happily.

"Head south by south west," he commanded the helmsman.

He then turned to the signal man, who stood at the ready with a red and white flag.

"Signal to the other ships to head south by south west," Tactius ordered.

The signal man launched into a serious of flag movements, and all ships aligned themselves with the Tempest. The flotilla had its course set right for the enemy.

 

***

 

"Imperial navy banners!" came the shout from the lookout above Mithnar's head.

 

The captain was surprised, but there was no immediate alarm. "What's their bearing?" he called back. By then his keen elven eyesight caught the ships on the horizon, a cluster of dark specks on the still roiling, dark blue sea.

 

The lookout hesitated, adjusted his glass, and kept watching.  Finally he said, "They appear to be turning, Captain. Turning.. south.  They're heading towards us."

 

"They could be spies," Hyardil sneered. "We should intercept them."

 

Mithnar's eyebrows lifted. "Are you mad? With what we've got on board?"
 

"We're official Dominion business.  They have no right to interfere."

 

The captain ignored the blissfully ignorant statement and called up to his lookout.  "Still bearing on us?"

 

"Yes, Captain. They look to be intercepting. A big one and some galleys."

 

Five ships, imperial navy, too far out from the coast to be a simple patrol.  Mithnar pulled out his spyglass and had a look, then lowered it and glanced back at the cutter.  Her captain was out on the deck with spyglass up, too.  Suddenly the cutter captain lowered his glass and appeared to shout an order, and the little ship began to come about, heading back towards home.  The cowards were running.

 

With a calm that surprised even himself, Mithnar turned and ordered his crew to begin tossing the cargo overboard. He could not trust that this imperial fleet was on polite business. The only chance they had to outrun them was to offload. Scurrying, the crew began to toss barrels of wine and crates of food over the side of the ship.

 

Hyardil was sputtering. "This is property of the Dominion military! Stop that! Captain, I order your men to cease this AT ONCE. Are you all cowards, wetting your britches at the sight of a few human ships on the horizon?  Stop, I tell you!"

 

The mage was still shouting at the crew when Mithnar signaled his first mate. They grabbed Hyardil both at the same time, the first mate tying the justiciar's hands quickly while Mithnar looped rope around his waist and lashed him to the rail. By now the mage's face was crimson. "You will die for this, traitor!" Spittle flew into Mithnar's face, which he ignored.  A pair of soldiers came up from the hold and began to draw their blades, but were tackled by the burly sailors they despised as their inferiors. The others who followed stood down, watching helplessly as the sailors pushed past them with loads of cargo.

 

Satisfied, Mithnar ran to the steering and began to turn the ship due east. If the imperials kept coming on, they would never make it back to Alinor, nor to Elsweyr. The Altmer was taking a desperate gamble. On the mangrove coasts of Black Marsh, no one was safe, not even big imperial carracks and galleys. Especially not them.

 

**

"They're turning...east captain...and it appears they are dunking cargo," the first mate Langley said.

Tacitus saw the same through his looking glass, the crates and bales bobbing in the rough sea.

Likely lightening themselves. East...towards Black Marsh? Hoping pirates will get us, Tacitus thought.

"Order the Hare to move on an intercept course. Hopefully she can cut it off before it gets too close to the coast," Tacitus said partially to the signal man, and to partially to himself. He often spoke out loud, it helped him gather his thoughts.

The Hare, the caravel received the signal and broke off, it being the only ship able to keep pace with the lightened cargo ship.

The rest of the flotilla followed behind, aiming to intercept them right off the coast. The sailors on board gathered at the railings, before breaking off the go back to their stations. The archers and mages smiled, knowing they would get sole action after all.

 

The crew of the Altmer ship was still bringing up crates from the cargo hold and tossing them overboard.

 

"What about the chests?" a crewman shouted at Mithnar.

 

The captain hesitated, then shook his head. "Not yet." If he lived through this day, he wanted to have at least a chance to be able to return home. Alternatively, if the worst came, he might be able to salvage the coin for himself, perhaps to buy his life.

 

"Captain." Hyardil had calmed down, his voice hoarse from the earlier shouting. Mithnar considered ignoring him, but something in the mage's tone changed his mind. As he approached, Hyardil leaned against the ropes. "Let me go. I won't interfere. There are things in those chests which should not fall into enemy hands."

 

Mithnar had assumed the spy kits were in the cutter, which was why they had run so quickly. "You fools. Load me down, send classified information and only give me a handful of guards."

 

"The imperials hadn't been..."

 

"Well they are now!" The captain didn't bother to soften his tone. He hesitated. "I'll let you go, but I hope you see now why we have to run. Unless you are a very powerful mage indeed, this is not a fight we can win."

 

"Do as you think is best."

 

Reluctantly Mithnar loosed the justiciar's bonds, then watched as Hyardil scurried down into the hold.

 

"Captain! They're trying to flank us!"

 

Mithnar glanced over at the smaller ship that had separated from the other imperial vessels and was arcing around to try to get ahead of them.  The winds were variable, still tossed around by the storm, and the imperial ship had the advantage of rowers. Only a little further, however, and they could catch the currents that swept around the southern coast  Mithnar turned his ship slightly southeast, and began to scan the horizon again. This time he was not looking at the imperial ships, but towards the east, for any sign of Argonian raiders.

 

**

Tacitus calmly gripped the banister of the aft castle, watching with patience as the vessel flew further towards the coast.

"Sir, the Thalmor cutter is completely out of sight now," Langley reported.

"Good, it can't flank us now. Too far away."

Tacitus starred longer thinking heavily.

"Any orders, sir?" Langley asked timidly. He was afraid of interrupting the High Admiral, even with a pertinent question.

"Yes....be on the lookout for any Argonian vessels, specifically any pirates or raiders. And order those galleys to kick it up a notch, I want that ship caught."

The last command was relayed by the flag man, waving his arms like a lunatic in a frenzy of signals.

 

The Altmer captain scanned the horizon.  It was depressingly devoid of other vessels, with a distant haze the only indication that they were anywhere near the coast. The cog was moving noticeably faster now, but not fast enough.  "Arm yourselves!" he shouted at the crew. They might still be able to outmaneuver the imperial ship, but he didn't want to take any chances.

 

Suddenly there were shouts and smoke began to drift up from the cargo hold. Cursing, Mithnar ran to the stair and met Hyardil running the other way. "What happened?"

 

"I had to burn them. It caught...something..." The justiciar was wavering on panic.

 

"By the ancestors! Why aren't you down there casting some frost spells?  Never mind." Mithnar ran down into the hold and helped the crew douse the flames, which had caught on some broken crates and rope, and fortunately not on the ship itself.

 

By the time he got back to the deck, he was forced to turn the ship south again to avoid the imperial vessel. Then the wind flagged. And the other imperial ships kept coming on behind. Mithnar began to contemplate surrender. The justiciars had circulated stories about elves being carved up and left to die slowly with their organs exposed, their eyes put out, skin flayed from their bodies. He had never been beyond the borders of Elsweyr and Valenwood, and couldn't tell if this was truth or falsehood. Old-timers said the humans weren't that bad, but a lot had changed since the days before the elves began to fight back. The thought that not just he but his men would suffer such a fate steeled Mithnar again. It wasn't over, not yet.

 

If the wind was going north, then so was he.  The Altmer turned the ship suddenly north-northeast, hoping that the imperial ship had enough momentum that it would not be able to correct in time.  It would be very close.

 

**

The Hare turned hard, angling its main triangle sail to catch the winds. It's rowers went ever onward, driving the ship toward the new course the cog was on. It went past where the cog had been, but not far, looping around so it ran parallel on a northeastern course.

Meanwhile, the rest of the flotilla changed their course as well, the galleys speeding ahead of the three other ships. They were trying to cut off any route towards the northwest the merchant ship could take.

The other ships went straight from behind, directly trailing the cog.

Tacitus told Langley to bring up the battlemages, who jogged up the steps in anticipation for an assignment.

"I want you to amplify my voice, all of you at once."

The mages cast an alteration spell, simple sound altering one, and Tacitus' voice boomed over the sea.

"SURRENDER NOW, AND YOU WON'T BE INJURED! ALL WE WANT IS YOU'RE CARGO, HANDED OVER PEACEFULLY!"

 

A likely story, Mithnar thought, cursing. When the wind shifted, he turned east again.  The ships were set to crash, but he hoped it would be a glancing blow and maybe even break some of their oars and slow the little galley down, assuming it also didn't tear a hole in the Evening Star's hull.

 

"Archers!" the Altmer shouted. "To the starboard!"  It was Hyardil's place to command the crew now, but he was clinging to the rigging, soaked from spray and white as the beaches of Firsthold. They had only a few archers, though these had many years of practice among them.  They drew, and as the two ships neared each other, fired in the direction of the imperial ship.

 

A moment later they were pitched off their feet, however, as the two ships careened together with a crack of wood. One of the Altmer sailors went overboard, screaming. Mithnar had braced for the impact, recovered, and sent his first mate running to the cargo hold to look for signs of breach.

 

**

Several soldiers went down from the arrow fire, and a couple more over the side when the ships collided.

"Curses!" Tacitus said through gritted teeth as he watched from afar.

His spyglass swung over the hull of the Hare, and he sighed from relief as no holes were present, allow some damage was evident.

"Signal to return fire. Return fire!" Tacitus yelled, furious the ship hand't just surrendered.

"Damn them, damn then all."

The rest of the flotilla continued on their course. Galleys providing no escape from the west, carrack from the south, and the caravel limping along the west, oars damaged but afloat, and still sailing.

 

Mithnar's first mate came running to report that the hold was taking on some water, but remained intact.  Grimly the Altmer sailor looked back just in time to see the archers on the imperial ship taking aim.  "Down!" he shouted, just as the volley hit them. An arrow whipped past his cheek, leaving a bloody gash, and several men went down, screaming. It was better to die this way, fighting, than tortured and humiliated- or so he told himself. There were no good choices this day.

 

They had hit the southern current and the boat was moving along, but the imperial ships had not given up. Mithnar felt a crackle in the air and saw Hyardil calling down lightning on the pursuer. "Finally," the sailor grumbled.

 

He scanned the eastern horizon again, and then he saw it. A smudge of black, and then another and another. Scaleclaw raiders. At any other time, he would have dreaded the sight, but his hope was that the fat imperial ships he was drawing toward them would be more tempting. "Come on, you miserable lizards!  Hurry!"  The ship was not going as fast as it should in the sweep of the current. It began to list to starboard, as the crew trying to bail water in the hold failed to hold out the sea.

 

**

"Sir, reports from the Hare indicate they are clear to continue their course. They also said raiders on the horizon, Argonians probably," Langley informed Tacitus.

Of course, the actual signals has been more along the lines of "Enemy ships: Damaged but sailable," while the rest was embellishment on the first mates' part.

Tacitus watched the caravel lurched onward from the oars that remained, while every so often lightning cracked across from the Thalmor ship.

Mages Tacitus seethed, as lightning struck an archer, disintegrating him.

The admiral lowered the glass, and turned to both Langley and the flag man, who's arms must have been tired by now.

"Signal the Hare to continue returning fire, and if the cog continues towards the pirates, to peel off at the last second. No sense in sending them in by themselves. I intend to capture our prize, though, not let it be stolen."

 

Still the imperial vessels came on!  They must have seen the raiders by now, with their spyglasses with not their inferior eyesight.  Mithnar's crew had seen them, too, and were starting to quail. A man jumped overboard, out of his mind with fear. Another volley of arrows assailed them and this time Mithnar himself went down, struck in his thigh.

 

To his credit, Hyardil was now casting wildly, and was berating the other crew to not let the humans win the day. It was futile. Mithnar's first mate was dead, but his steward was experienced enough to see how it was. Climbing over dead bodies and slipping on the mixture of gore and seawater on the deck, the steward somehow found a white flag and began to hoist it next to the Dominion eagle.

 

Hauling himself up the side of the railing with a groan of pain, Mithnar looked bleakly out at the Argonian raiders. Their ships had stopped. Perhaps they were not any more confident of their abilities against the imperials than his own escort cutter had been.

 

Mithnar had never felt such a desolation of failure. He was but a simple merchant sailor, but he had outlived raider attacks, storms, and sea monsters that would make the justiciars themselves quake with fear. Now he was to be prisoner of the empire that those justiciars insisted was on its knees. He would never see his parents again, never sit on the quay at sunset, never have a wife or children to come home to.

 

Then he heard a noise. The ship made cracks and groans, and there were screams from the cargo hold where those without weapons had taken refuge. Out of the corner of his eye, Mithnar saw a black figure slip over the port rail, lithe as the surf on a smooth beach.

 

The Argonian raiders had not given up the chase. They didn't need to ram or board another vessel from above. They could sink it, and take the booty from the sea floor at their leisure. More scaleclaws came over the side of the ship, massed Hyardil and the others. Mithnar saw one approach him, caught the glint of a bone blade. He had only a moment to hope that the cursed imperials would suffer the same fate.  Ancestors receive my spirit.

 

**

Here comes the white flag...what is that? Tacitus thought, as he raised his spyglass to get a better look.

Argonians climbed over the sides of the merchant cog, swarming like ants.

Frantically, Tactitus shouted, "Signal the Hare to repel boarders, and to kill any Argonian on either ship!"

The admiral turned to his mate, angry his prize was to be lost.

"We have to get there, now! Get the Minotaur and the Relentless to break off and guard that ship!"

The twin dromons lurched out in front of the carrack, the oar men upping their pace and surging the boats through the water. Shouts of "Row! Row! Row!" could be heard even by Tacitus, that was until the dromons got too far away, closing in on the Thalmor merchant vessel.

 

The Evening Star was doomed, and its last crewmen bled into the waters that rose to engulf them. The heavy chests of gold and silver, still in the cargo hold, went down with its timbered remains.

 

The Argonians went down with the ship, as well, but of course they were unconcerned about that. Satisfied that the Altmer ship was given over to the sea, they began massing the imperial pursuing ship from beneath, tearing at its timbers from underwater where the archers could not get at them.

The Hare was helpless, having no way to combat the Argonians. The entire crew gathered on the top deck, hoping that help would arrive. As the ship creaked and groaned from the damage, the Minotaur arrived on the scene, saving the crew as they clambered from the caravel to the dromon.

Tacitus watched as the twin ships sailed away from the sinking wreckage, leaving behind both the Thalmor merchant ship and the imperial caravel.

Tacitus saw the final sinking of the both, disappointed all around.

"This will not stand. Signal for the galleys to follow behind, we're going after the pirates," Tacitus ordered, angry that the battle and two ships had been lost.

The battle would probably result in the loss of several live, but hopefully this would be a lesson to any other pirate clans who assumed the seas were theirs.

The imperial flotilla was grouped together within a few minutes, sailing hard for the raiders.

 

The raider ships, seeing the imperials chasing after them, left their attackers in the water and turned to run. The Argonians were in warm waters and could find their own way home, and there was ample time to return and collect the booty.

 

The low-lying ships were fleet, and their crews not alarmed about pursuit. In fact the rowers were giving off the heady scent of bloodlust from their gills. If imperial ships wanted to follow them into the reefs and mangrove nets of their home coast, that was a bonanza they rarely saw. The lead raiding ship outpaced the others and made for a reef barrier, where the low Argonian ships would simply skim over and the heavier ships pursuing them would run aground.

 

"Reefs ahead!" shouted the lookout, high above Tacitus' head.

"Halt the advance," the High Admiral grudgingly commanded, even more unhappy than he had been earlier.

The ships stopped as the Argonians sailed further and further away, until they were mere dots on the horizon.

"Turn us around, it's time we head home," Tacitus told the helmsman, who gripped the wheel tightly and swung it around, as the flotilla headed northwest along the coast, until the city of Leyawiin was in sight.

The mission had been a spectacular disappointment, resulting in the loss of one of their own ships, plus whatever bounty the cog held. But I had re-established the Imperial navy as a force to be reckoned with on the sea.

**

Within the coming days, reports from Anvil came in, which held much better news. Having fewer pirates to deal with, the Western Fleet was running amok in the Thalmor shipping lanes, up to the point that most merchant ships now had to be escorted by several Dominion ships.

As for the Eastern Fleet, the second raiding group that had been at sea when Tacitus' flotilla was had much better results, capturing a load of silver and gold along with weapons and armor, from a ship also bound for Senchal. One mission had failed, but in the long run, Tacitus knew that it was worth it.

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Lorgar Grim-Maw

Afternoon 

Imperial City

 

Lorgar walked through the filthy streets of the waterfront district, he had acquired a rowboat from a fishing village near the imperial city, and used the boat to reach the looming capital of the Empire. One could argue decaying capital of a decaying empire, but that was besides the point . Lorgar grunted at the memories of the last few days, as he saw all sorts of horror. During his travels from Bruma to the Imperial city, he got a taste of the decay spreading like filth. The roads were infested with refugees in the Bruma countie, and when there was refugee's, the roads were infested with bandits, many of whom were imperial deserters. Lorgar has slayed dozens of bandits in his travels threw Crydoili. The poverty levels were insane, most likely due to the large increase of tax money now going to the imperial legion and the imperial navy. In war time, civilians suffered as much as the soldiers. The poverty in this district was the worst of all, if you didn't live on the streets, you lived in shacks made from wood, and the imperial watch in this area was highly corrupt. 

 

I'm continuously surrounded by filth and death...

 

Lorgar himself was clad in chain mail, along with a heavy cloak, he bore his great sword Faltsverd on his back, along with two knives and a short-sword on his belt. He wore leather gloves and boots. His pale blue left eye remained open, but his unnatural red eye was forcibly closed. It would attract to much unwanted attention. Lorgar needed to remain a shadow. He crossed into an alleyway, intent on taking a short cut to another street, when he heard a familiar feminine voice,

 

"Halt major." 

 

Lorgar turned his head around to face the owner of the familiar voice. Raven black haired filled his vision, along with stunning violet eyes. The same eyes of his best friend Marius Imperius. The female was flanked by four men clad in black leather and black plates, with the symbol of the ever open eye on there chest pieces.  The Pentiulas Occultus had found him. Lorgar sighed , as he drew his greatsword in a single motion, letting the blade's steel be shadowed by the alleyway's darkness. He sadly muttered, 

 

"Lieutenant-Commander Imperius. you really intend on taking me on?"

 

She quietly responded. 

 

"I have orders to eliminate you, Major." She continued, "I follow orders regardless of my personal feelings and the morality of the order. If we were talking about morality, then I would be perfectly fine with killing you." Though Lorgar didn't show any emotion, those words cut into him like blades. She raised her hand, and signaled her soldiers to proceed. They quickly drew there Imperial swords, Marie herself drew out a two-handed claymore from her back. With a flash of black , the team of agents charged forward. Lorgar positioned himself, and wielded his greatsword in one-hand, while he drew his short-blade with his remaining hand. The first of the agents reached him, a very large and opposing orc. Unlike the rest of the agents, he was equipped with a massive greataxe. Using the forward momentum, he swung his axe downward as he charged.

 

What a fool...

 

In a sprint of supernatural speed, Lorgar appeared with a in-human dash behind the orc agent, whose face filled with disbelief, as Lorgar jabbed his shortblade into his exposed neck, causing him to fall lifelessly onto the ground. The next two agents reached him, a dark elf and a Breton who were spell blades, the dark elf prepared to use a fireball and casted it, realizing too late that Lorgar at the last second, in a burst of speed and strength, had put the Breton into a arm lock, effectively using him as a human shield. The fireball impacted into the Breton's chest, causing him to scream out in pain and his body to fall limp, Lorgar let go of the now dead agent, and charged at the Dark elf, whose face filled with terror and shock,

 

"That's impossible-" The mans words were interrupted as Lorgar thrusted his greatblade into the elf's ribcage, the force was so strong that his sword ended up going threw the elf and impaling him onto the alleyway wall. The final remaining agent was behind Lorgar, and slashing at him with his imperial gladius, with lighting reaction times, Lorgar parried the blow with his shortblade, ripped out his greatsword from the dark elf corpse and wall, and delivered a onehanded thrust into the man's arm, causing him to drop his sword and yelp in pain. Lorgar ended it quickly with a stab to the blood vein on his neck. 

 

Forty seconds...

 

Lorgar was covered in blood, but hardily sweating as he looked back to the carnage he then inflicted. He then turned his head to the Pentiulas Occultus officer, and said,

 

"Your men are dead-"

 

Lorgar was cut off by Marie closing the distance between them and slashing her claymore in a downward strike. Unlike the orc who was clumsy and slow, Marie was fast and precise. Lorgar brought up his greatsword and shortblade to block the blow, locking there weapons.  As they struggled,  Lorgar pleaded,

 

"Lieutenant-Commander, come to your senses. I don't want to do this." 

 

Marie ignored him, as she jumped backwards, unlocking there swords. She screamed in fury as she slashed her blade diagonally at Lorgar while pressing him, Lorgar used his greatsword to block Marie's slash, before saying, 

 

"Listen to me Marie, I don't want to kill you."

 

The officer didn't listen, as she slashed at him again. Lorgar's face filled with pure Melancholy, and he said without a hint of emotion, "Then you give me no choice." Lorgar parried the attack with his shortblade, before sidestepping in a flash of speed, Marie only had time to hear the voice of her former commanding officer, and her uncles best friend, "I'm sorry." Lorgar buried his greatsword into her side. The female agent stood there, with a look of shock, as the nord ripped the blade from the side of her body, spraying Marie and himself in a blanket of crimson blood. She body fell to the ground, unmoving and  not breathing. Lorgar just stood there for a few moments, before kneeling onto the ground and closing the young officers violet eyes. The nord sheathed his two drawn blades,  and left the scene, 

 

I'm sorry.

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Gracchus, Theodore, Brutus, Endar
West Weald Inn
Morning 


Theodore sat at the desk in his room, quill in hand and parchment spread across the writing station. He dipped the end in of the quill in ink, then began penning the letter.

Count Brutus,

General Gracchus Ceno, of recent fame, and I will be traveling to Kvatch within the coming day. I wanted to give you fair warning to expect visitors, and having heard of your reputation as a partier expect no less than pure extravagance. Joking aside, I look forward to meeting your acquaintance in person,

Until then,
Lord Theodore Adrard


Theodore was happy with the overall letter, simple and fun, so left his room and walked down the creaky old stairs to the main area of the tavern. A courier stood in the corner, waiting for anyone who had a letter, so Theodore presented his message, along with instructions for it to be taken to Kvatch. He paid the man his dues, and the messenger scampered on his way.

Theodore saw several patrons already, even at this early hour. Gracchus and the guards, all dressed and packed, sat enjoying breakfast, so Theodore joined them.

Soon after the merry band left, headed west toward the city of Kvatch.

**

One of the guards of Kvatch received the letter early in the day and was surprised to see that Brutus was up, sitting in his throne. And that it was actually him and not his silly self portrait, made to look like him. It was obvious because his eyes were closed and a green apple was in front of him, floating. A clear illusion made by his mind that he was making for practice. The guardsman approached him now, standing just in front of the apple. Brutus during times of self training was the sanest that anyone ever saw him, so it was a relief to the guardsman, knowing how his count was otherwise when he was in high spirits. Before the guardsman could speak, Brutus still with eyes closed said, "Give me the letter."

"Huh? How did...nevermind. Here you are, sir." The guard presented the letter to him now, his arm going through the fake apple. Brutus quickly took the letter from him now, then smiled. The same weasel like smile he always had fixed on his handsome, yet unsettling face.

"Take the apple." The guard raised an eyebrow, looking at the apple that his hand just went through. "Go on, don't be shy. Take it." Worms love apples. "Bite." The guard's face didn't change its expression, but he played along. He was amazed to see that the apple actually felt like an apple. One he could hold in his hands. When he went to bite into it, he actually felt his teeth plunge into it as well. And the taste.

"Wow, you're getting really good at this! How did you do it?" asked the guard. When he did, the apple dissipated before him, as did the taste of it in his mouth.

Brutus, eyes still closed said, "Simple, really. I channeled an area of effect spell around me when you gave me the note. Charm. I didn't make an illusion of the apple, I simply charmed you and persuaded your mind into thinking you actually could hold the apple and bite it. Simply through commanding you to do so." The guard stood there in silence, a little nervous and fearful that his mind had been so easily and noticeably manipulated.

Eager to rid himself of the count's presence, he said, "Well, if that's everythi..." His speech trailed off when he looked to the chair before him. Brutus was there but it was the painting on the sheets, a two dimensional image. Brutus was gone. The note, sitting in the chair on the painting's lap. Now the guard really was nervous and started thinking the count must be a ghost. He quickly turned away from the chair and walked out of the palace, glad to be far from the count and his strange magic. When he left, the other guards in the room started to laugh, as they were already used to him and his many tricks. Brutus suddenly appeared standing next to the throne in a flash of green light as his invisibility spell wore off when he took a bite into a green apple. Picking up the letter from the chair, Brutus giggled in delight at his increase in skill, and he giggled once more when he read the note.

"Hmm....guests...this should be fun. I must see if Endar will wish to attend!" The count took one more bite from his apple, then walked off to the back of the palace.

***

Endar anxiously tapped an index finger against his wooden desk. It wasn't his index finger that he tapped however, it was the severed pointer of a giant. One of many he'd collected during his time spent studying them in Skyrim.

"You really think this is going to work Mister Drenim?" his stewardess, Elara asked nervously from across the room. She held a scroll in one hand, and what looked like a sleeping house cat wirh gray fur in the other. She was holding the little creature up by the scruff of his neck.

"Of course I do." he answered. "I've had two others give me very similar results from their own experimentation." He gave an quick, impatient wave for her to get a move on.

"Will it hurt him?" she asked, looking nervously at the cat.

"Probably." He didn't understand why she was still hesitating. "What does it matter?"

"It's just that, he's kind of cute is all."

"Cute?! By Azura, is that what's holding you back?! That is a very dangerous creature you are holding, and he would probably set you ablaze if he was conscious and capable of doing so."

Elara's brow furrowed. She gave the little cat a shake. "Doesn't seem dangerous to me. There used to be one that looked just like him that lived near my home. 'Cept he was black, not gray."

"You are confusing a house cat with a powerful and ambitious Alfiq mage. That's not advisable. Now go on and read the damned scroll! He's probably already getting cold!"

Elara shrugged and began reading. It was all gibberish to her. Completely incomprehensible to anyone but Endar himself, but he needed to stay a certain distance away with the magicka anchor while the scroll was read, and frankly, there were probably only a handful of people who could understand Drenim's scribbled handwriting. It had taken her over a month just to get it down herself. By the time she'd finished, she could feel the Khajiit vibrating a bit, then his eyes opened, shooting a bright red beam of light from both. However, the magical light quickly faded and disappeared. The vibrating stopped and the Khajiit kicked a few times before finally going limp.

"Damnit woman!" Endar looked pissed. He set aside his giant finger and crossed over to her. "You killed him! Do you know how difficult it is to get a living Alfiq test subject in Cyrodiil? And a voluntary one at that!" Of course, by voluntary, he meant hostile.

Elara shook her head as she dropped the useless dead subject to the floor. "I read it right! That's all I had to do."

Endar snatched the scroll from her and looked it over. "Not likely. Because otherwise, that would mean that I made a mistake, and that is not likel- Ah! I see the problem." He sat the scroll on his desk and made a correction to it using his quill. "Next time then!"

"Don't you have something to say?" Elara looked at him expectantly, waiting for an apology.

The wizard shrugged. "No, not really." He turned and headed for the door. He had absolutely no idea what his stewardess was going on about now. Perhaps he'd ask her later, but for now, he had to go into town to buy a few soul gems, as his own stick was getting low. "Dispose of the Khajiit before he sticks up the place." With that, he was out the door.

Brutus almost ran smack into Endar's face as he walked out, skipping his way excitedly to tell him of the news. "Oh, Master Endar! Sorry, I hadn't seen you. Guess what?"

Endar rolled his eyes at the Count's reckless joviality. Still, the man hadn't come to his room personally in a couple weeks, so whatever the occasion was that put him in such a good mood, it was probably big. He wasn't sure why he was expected to guess though. Considering his current lack of knowledge of the subject, guessing seemed like a waste of time.
"I'd rather not. What is it?"

The count was disappointed that Endar didn't try to guess, but he figured he could get him interested more if he presented it in an interesting way. Tapping his lip with his finger for a few seconds to think, Brutus decided to demonstrate how much he had grown in illusion magics by seeing if he could influence the mage enough for him to hear his voice through magic. Brutus placed his hands on Endar's shoulder as if he was grasping him in excitement, then subtly cast a spell of rally, displaying thoughts of revelry to see if he could get him excited for the occasion like soldiers for a battle.

Endar immediately felt several of his protection spells kicking in. It didn't bother him, what Brutus was doing, but he was somewhat curious about the motive.
"Why, in Boethia's name, are you trying to charm me?"

Brutus sighed in disappointment, but he wasn't surprised. Nothing short of a lifetime of training would let you affect a Telvanni with anything unless they let you. Undeterred, Brutus moved past Endar to Elara, ignoring the dead cat on the floor for now and placed his hands on her shoulder to do the same thing, filling her head with thoughts of a wild party.

"What in the-?!" Elara's eyes widened as dozens of people, some familiar, some not, appeared in the room around her. There was drinking, and music, and Endar's desk now housed a large Orcish man being pleasured by several women of various races. The amount of revelry was downright chaotic. Moreso than she was used to. She nervously glanced around the room, then at Endar, who stood in the doorway watching only her and Brutus with an expression that gave away nothing. Observing, as he always did. She backed away from Brutus and into a heavyset Breton man in fine clothes, holding a mug just like everyone around him. "What the- I don't understand what's going on."The stewardess tried to keep a level head. She'd worked for Endar long enough to know how to do at least that. "This is an illusion, right?" It certainly didn't seem like it. The man she'd bumped into felt real, the music and shouts sounded real. Everything seemed real, except for the smell. The only thing she could smell was slightly burned cat hair.

"What is 'real', really?" Brutus said simply.

Elara blinked. "What do you even mean? Real is r-..." She paused. "You know what? Forget it, you can talk that mumbo jumbo with the boss, but I'm not even going to try to solve your riddles. Mister Drenim, do you see all these people?"

Endar just shook his head.

"Ha! It is a spell!" Elara ignored a particularly fat Bosmer next to her taking his shirt off for some reason, and looked at Brutus curiously. "Why would you show me a party?"

The same Bosmer who was taking off his shirt suddenly walked over to Elara now and handed her an illusion of the note Brutus received. When he did, Brutus who was actually standing next to Endar, to which the Telvanni wizard was fully aware of, whispered in his ear and said, "Really funny watching her talk to herself, isn't it?"

Endar didn't respond. He'd told Brutus in the past that Elara wasn't to be charmed without his consent, but on the other hand, it really was quite amusing. He watched her hold up her hands as if she held something in them. Paper, he guessed, considering how close her fingers were together. It must've been some sort of note, as her eyes went back and forth as if reading lines of text.
"What does it say, Elara?"

The Breton looked up from the note. She spoke loudly, as if trying to communicate over a lot of other noises. "Some guy named Theodore is coming soon. He's a Lord. And he's bringing a General Gracchus Ceno with him. That's about it. Oh! And it says that our Count is a partier." She glanced around, then looked at Brutus. "Is that what all this is about? You're going to throw this visiting Lord a party?"

"Exactly!" proclaimed Brutus from near Endar. The illusion of himself in front of her clapped, then made the images dissipate before her. Brutus was satisfied that his magic at least worked on her, but he wished to test it on someone with a stronger mind. Who wasn't a Telvanni of course. "So, what do you think, eh? Sanguine is among us tonight! The state of the Empire is....to be desired...so I'll have to cut a deal with some of the local tavern owners. Have them bring booze and food, and they can sell it here in the palace and I get a cut of the slice. Everyone will be very happy and merry, I'll see to that. So they'll be spending coin like its no tomorrow."

"That is quite the plan." admitted Endar. He liked Brutus. The man, while facinatingly eccentric, had been good to him in allowing him to stay in the castle, doing as he pleased with little interruption, and all he had to do in return was give him lessons, which could be done on his sleep, and so he made effort not to insult his host when he could. Now was one of those times, as he saw parties, and all the subsequent planning they involved, as a waste of time by nature. He didn't give anything away though, and instead simply nodded to his good host. "Is this Lord a friend of yours?"

"No, I've never met them. But I've heard of them. Gracchus is the General who sided with the Nords and fought along side them to rid us of those damn dick stuffed curs. Think they're too good for illusions! **** 'em I say. Always harping on about how this world is a prison. If Lorkhan hadn't done what he did, do you know where we'd be? Huh!? Close your eyes and there you go! Boring! Absolutely boring! No wonder Lorkhan did this, the poor fool must have been wonderfully mad with boredom! Anyway, this Gracchus fellow from what I've heard can serve to loosen up. Now this Theodore on the other hand....Now he sounds like he knows how to live!" Brutus did a cartwheel towards the wall, and then backflipped off the surface. "Ah there's gonna be so much poon you won't know what to do with yourself! I've got a whole stock of extra strength stamina potions...."

"Right." Endar was fairly certain that he himself wouldn't be making an appearance, but he decided not to mention that for the sake of having to explain why.

"Well, I'm going to send guards off to prepare and spread the word! I'm going to have to use the money gained from this party to put into problems of the city, I suppose....responsibilities always make me feel so....sane....My training in general has made me feel....sane. I wonder...if one gains more mastery over the illusion of the world and realizes better how it works, would that break the tie to Sheogorath? Madness is to accept an illusion as truth...I am in love! I am a bird! I am not accepting an illusion, I am accepting truth! I am not mad! I am! I am.....there's a paradox...One who is mad does not know it, and he accepts an illusion as truth. But if that is true, then...what am I? Has Sheogorath not gifted me with madness, but rather the understanding of madness? How can I be mad if I know of it and and would be aware if I was? Perhaps his gift is not madness, but the understanding of it, therefore making me a champion of paradox? I am both mad and not? Now that thought is....maddening...." Brutus's rambling continued on in a fevered pace as he walked out of the door while whispering to himself continuously.

Endar and Elara stood in silence for several moments after Brutus left.
"Elara." Endar finally broke the silence.

"Yes Mister Drenim?"

"There's still a dead mage cat in my floor."

With that, Endar once again headed from the room, leaving the very confused Stewardess to make sure that it was exactly as he wanted when he returned.

**

Gracchus and Theodore had been riding hard all day, Theodore pushing them so they could make the party in time. The sun was just beginning to set in the west, casting long shadows as the group rode up to the castle. The guards wore closed helms, and they opened the door freely as the caravan arrived.

The Palace main hall inside had two tables filled with food on either side, brought and paid by the various tavern owners as part of the agreement to have the right to sell their drinks outside in the courtyard. On the way to the castle were crowds of men and women drinking and talking, singing and carrying on. There was sounds of flutes, lutes and drums all throughout the atmosphere. The doors to the inside were open to all, noble and peasant alike. Brutus's home had a way of loosening people up, and was one of the only places where one could ever spot Nobles and peasants mixing in more ways than one. Staff in hand, Brutus walked through the crowd at the Palace door to approach his arriving guests. One of the guards ran inside to tell him of their presence. The people parted as he walked through him. When he reached the pair, Brutus bowed deeply with his hands pointing back and said, "Welcome, to Kvatch! My little corner of the Empire! I am Count Brutus! You must be Lord General Theodore Adrard...." Brutus looked at the man's gut as he said this, then looked to Gracchus's and said, "And you must be Lord General Gracchus Quintus Ceno. A pleasure!"

Theodore slapped his belly on the sides happily, then laughed heartily.

"Actually, I'm starving, and this is my friend thirsty! Har har har!"

Gracchus bowed, but it was not very low. He had little interest on this party, or getting drunk on food and drink.

"Pleasure," he said simply.

Brutus could tell that Gracchus' spirits weren't raised by the revelry going on, but he didn't let it phase him. It was expected. "The pleasure is all mine! Now, I know you two gentlemen are tired, so I prepared a room for the both of you in the back. Any one of my guards can point you to its direction and you may catch my Illusion trainer back there too. Master Endar, a wizard of house Telvanni! Or...." Brutus pointed a hand to one of the tables with a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth, cheeses and various fruits and many bottles of wine strewn about. "We can go stuff our faces and drink ourselves under the table, eh? And then....women!"

Gracchus and Theodore expectedly split up, Theodore heading straight for the pork, fruit and wine, while Gracchus went back towards the room, weary and exhausted.

Theodore instantly began engulfing food, while in between bites trying to speak to the Count.

"I...*chomp* heard you were quite the partier, and I'm glad to *chomp* see that I haven't been disappointed!"

Brutus eyed the crowd and picked out a spry looking young blonde breton woman who seemed to be down the bottle enough to easily influence without much trouble. Brutus's staff was channeling a charm spell around the room, so convincing wasn't very hard. He whispered in her ear and she put on a face of surprise, but a joyous one. After he was done, the woman started to laugh as she followed behind him. As he took a seat next to Theodore and started to dig in himself, the woman stood up on the table in front of him and started to strip to her under clothes, to the delight of the crowd. "Only the best for a General, sir! Oh, my dear, would you be a doll and pass that plate of lamb chops towards me and the General's way?" The woman looked to Theo and blew him a kiss before bending over showing what she had to him, then placed the plate between the two men and cheered in celebration for the deed. The men in the crowd cheered too, since she was bouncing when she cheered. Brutus took a chop in each hand and bit into them left then right as he spoke in between bites. "Yes, unlike the rest of the Empire, I don't let the state of things get to me. If you ask me, I have a duty to keep this up! Keeps the Thalmor thinking everything's peachy past our borders with us doing this so close by. They're watching...."

"Oh stop it! If I wanted to here about the Thalmor, I could've stayed in the capital!"

Theodore somewhat nervously glanced at the Breton woman who mad such a spectacle about giving him pork chops. Count Brutus also had other reputations, besides partying, some of which Theo didn't feel inclined to partake in.

But his jovial smile returned very quickly. As he dug in the pork chops, his washed it down with a swig of wine, which he first poured into his flask. Better to be safe than sorry as far as poisonings were concerned.

"Now, what other delectable delights does our kind host have to offer! The food kind, of course hehe," Theodore said with a chuckle.

Brutus was enjoying the spectacle as much as he was the food, but it didn't distract him enough to be a poor host. Brutus tapped the young woman on her leg, then clapped his hands twice. "Bring us....cheese pie!" Brutus pointed a finger over to the other table where there were piping hot 'pies' which were flat circular bread shapes with melted cheese on top, twelve in total with some red tomato paste under the cheese with a layer of bread covering the whole thing. The woman complied and brought over all twelve of the strange unusual 'cheese pies'. "Eh? Whatdoya think of that, my big friend?"

Theodore was unsure of how to grip the cheese pie, finally deciding to pick it up by the layer of bread around the edge. The piece tore off in a triangle shape, an he bit into the soft, cheesy goodness, causing a strand to stretch away from his mouth to the pie piece.

"It's, *erhm chomp chomp* delicious! This-" Theodore tried to say "piece of, but it came out sounding more like "piece-a."

"It's marvelous! Fantastic! So good...."

Theodore finished it off, then ate two more of the pie pieces.

Brutus smiled in delight and said, "You'd never guess where I picked up the recipe. A wise man once said...." Brutus stood up on the table and picked up a pie. "Cheese! For everyone!" With that, Brutus chucked a pie at some dancing Imperial woman, then Brutus picked up another one and chucked it at some drunk old man, who thought someone nearby did it. He punched the nearest person to him, which was a big orc man. The orc too was drunk and didn't let the man's age hold him back. "Now that's entertainment!" proclaimed Brutus who sat back down and dove into the pies.

Theodore laughed at the fight, then leaned back in his chair.

"My my, that was delicious! What's sorts of strange desserts do you have cooked up for us tonight?"

 

Brutus had tried to keep up with the general in eating, but Theodore was too much for him. Determined now to out eat the general, Brutus said, "Okay, my Breton friend. You can eat, but lets see how you do with...chaurus pie! Freshly delivered from Skyrim and killed right in here! And those black beauties come straight from the hold of Solitude, the maddest hold in all the wonderfully barbaric land! Think you can out eat me, general?"

 

Theodore belched loudly, preparing himself and his stomach for the challenge

"As if you would ever stand a chance!"

Theodore wasn't really that sure though, he had never liked Chaurus pies, or the creatures themselves. Vile and repulsing, he thought.

 

"Alright, my friend..." Brutus had the same woman fetch them the dessert from the other table again, but this time shooed her away so that Brutus could concentrate.The pie was covered in cream and cherries, and the chaurus pie itself was stuffed with apples and blueberries. Modifications of Brutus. Brutus wasted no time in digging in, bringing shame to every last Imperial who's ever been born from his terrible terrible tablemanners. In between bites, Brutus said, "Now, I know *munch*, you said that you didn't want to *munch* hear about Thalmor, but why?"

 

The cherries and cream Theodore swallowed down easily, then began to devour the rest of the pie, which, to his surprise and happiness, went down very easily because of Brutus' additions.

While eating Theodore thought about the question, finally formulating an answer.

"It's party *chomp* time! I'll gladly talk politics *chomp* tomorrow, or any other time, but I'd rather just celebrate being alive and wel right now!"

Theodore continued eating, putting away one, two pies then four and five, hastily shoving the food down as quickly as possible.

 

Brutus' face was going red with trying to keep up with Theo's pace, but he did his best and performed admirably, only being half a pie behind. Pointing a finger across the room, Brutus said, "It's party time for them too! See the woman over there? Breton with red hair?"

 

Theodore, seeing that Brutus wasn't far behind, upped his already staggeringly fast pace. It was unfair, really, as Brutus has no way of knowing that Theodore has won several eating competitions in High Rock, holding the record for most steaks eaten in a day.

"What about that her?" he asked, somewhat confused.

 

Brutus looked at the Breton with eyes of lost hope, and simply dropped his piece of pie and frowned in defeat. "What a wonderful illusion you have. I thought you were Lord General Theodore Adrard, when in fact you are the world eater." He smiled when he said this and tapped him on the shoulder to show he was joking. "That, my friend is a Thalmor spy. I found her out last time she was at one of these parties. I charmed her with a spell when I suspected her, then made her tell me everything. Afterwards I got her so drunk, she didn't remember a thing! So she's still here spying occasionally. They want to know what a Telvanni Wizard is doing in Cyrodiil. They think we have Dunmer allies."

 

Theodore threw his hands up in victory, then belched loudly and leaned back, relaxed and happy, though only for a few moments.

"World eater I am not, but pie eater I am! I guess now is a good time to tell you that this isn't my first competition. Har har, it was fun though!"

Theodore re-inspected the woman, frowning slightly.

"So have you fed her false information? Or just let her try and find out why a Dunmer wizard is here? Why is he here after all? I say that purely out of curiosity, obviously," he said genuinely.

 

"Ah you cheeky bastard, well played. No, I don't give her false info. The Thalmor unfortunately are too smart for that to work for too long and I'd be found out. No, I let her come occasionally, thinking there's something to be found. As long as they think so, they don't try and assassinate me. As for Endar, he simply needs a place to do research, and I need a tutor for Illusion."

 

"A student of the magics eh? I'm sure my friend Mister Ceno will enjoy that, being a battlemage and all. Hmm, I wonder if any have penetrated my abode...undoubtedly so. I my have to root them out when I return. But enough of politics! Lets continue this party!"

Theodore drank the rest of his flask of wine, but waited for his host to take the lead.

 

"Aha, yes! Let's show 'em how we live in Cyrodiil!" Brutus stood up on the table now and grabbed two bottles of fine wine and started guzzling it down at the same time. The people in the hall cheered as he downed them and they too started drinking more as well. If the Thalmor were looking for evidence of the Empire's weakening, which wouldn't be too hard for them to find, no one could say Brutus provided it.

 

***
Gracchus had, upon arrival, headed off to his room. He unpacked his things, stowing them in the chest, then wandered the halls for several minutes. He discovered the library, a study of sorts, among other things, when he found Master Dremin's room, who Brutus said was a Telvanni wizard. Interested, Gracchus knocked on the door, hoping he was home.

 

Several seconds passed, then the door opened just a bit, and in front of Gracchus stood a short Breton woman, probably in her mid to late twenties and wearing commoner clothing. She stood in the crack of the door, preventing him from seeing much of the room.

"Can I help you?" When she spoke, it wasn't with the mannerly tone that one would expect from a castle servant or the formality of a noble. There was actually a hint of annoyance in her voice.

 

Gracchus didn't notice she wasn't similar to most servants, him having dealt with few, He was born a commoner, after all.

"Hello, madam, I am General Gracchus Ceno. I'm actually looking for Master Endar Dremin, is he in?" Gracchus asked.

He had changed into finer, yet comfortable clothes, like one might where to a friends house party. His red tunic with gold lacing was paired with black pants and gold lacing, along with his black boots and gold buckles. He also wore his Imperial cape, red and gold as well.

 

Elara recognized the name well enough. She turned and looked back in the room. "Are you?"
No response could be heard from Gracchus's end. Master Endar had long since sound proofed his room with a range of spells. Nothing he said in the room could be heard outside unless he wished.
Elara turned back to Gracchus. "The party's in the main hall, and several of the other wings. Mister Drenim isn't looking to partake in your festivities. Nor is he offering any."

 

Gracchus frowned, but figured he had better eat least explain why he was here.

"Actually, that's why I'm here. I have no interest in partaking in the festivities either, and would rather enjoy more...civilized company. But, if he wishes me to leave, I shall."

Gracchus turned his back to leave, deciding to go back the castle library.

 

"Alright then."
The door closed as Gracchus walked away. However, Gracchus hadn't traveled far when the door opened again, and the woman hurried down the hall after him. "Hold up! Mister Drenim just asked if you were the General that was in Skyrim several months ago."

 

Gracchus smirked a little before he turned around, but smiled kindly once he did.

"Yes, yes I am. I've been back just a few months. Why?"

 

She shrugged. "I don't know. He just said that if you were, to let you in. If I had a guess, I'd say he's interested in something you did while there."

 

"Haha, I'll take that. If you would escort me in..." Gracchus motioned with his hand for her to go first, then proceeded to follow behind, entering the room.

 

Endar's back was turned to the door when they came in. He stood facing the opposite wall, studying four large open scrolls he had hanging from it. Each one had a different combination of symbols and runes on it, with the largest having a sketch of the dead Khajiit from earlier as well as a single column of text that was virtually unreadable. Endar was almost finished making the necessary changes to insure that next time he wouldn't kill his subject. His right hand glowed with a magical blue aurora as he rearranged the runes on one of the scrolls. He didn't acknowledge it when Gracchus entered the room. He'd meant to, but his mind immediately went back to his work before he had time to turn around, and he quickly forgot.

 

Gracchus stared at the scrolls, certain runes recognizable while others where completely foreign. Had his classes at the Arcane University not been so long ago, he might have been able to decipher more. Eventually, he gave up on trying to read them, instead focusing on the wizard himself.

He seemed...oblivious to Gracchus entrance, odd considering he had asked for him. So Gracchus watched, and waited, knowing better than to disturb a man at work. Hopefully, the Dunmer would realize he was no longer alone soon enough.

 

Endar confined working with the scrolls for another couple of minutes, then casted a spell on the largest one, making the writing on it briefly turn blue. He turned around and crossed the room to his desk. He noticed Gracchus as he passed, but didn't stop moving, he opened one of his tomes and began to write in it. Without looking up, he finally spoke. "Hello General. You wanted to see me?"

 

"I figured more civilized conversation could be had here than at the party, regardless of the subject matter. It seems you're busy though, and I doubt how useful I could be in the matter. If I need come back later, I can leave you to your work," Gracchis said, as he watched the mage write in the massive book.

 

"I am busy." said Endar as he wrote. "You won't often find me when I'm not." He closed the book and picked out another one, then began flipping to the page he desired.

"But at the moment, I am considerably less so than usual. I would finish recording my findings, and then, if you are still here when I'm done, I would ask a question of you."

 

"Then stay and wait I shall. Perhaps you have some menial task I could perform, to help pass the time as well as help you out?" Gracchus asked.

He was honestly interested in the man, Endar being, hundreds of years old, a mage who seemed to be very knowledgeable in the arcane, and just and interesting character.

 

Endar looked up from his book and for the first time, met Gracchus's eyes. "You wouldn't happen to know what an Alfiq is would you?"

 

"The Khajit subspecies correct? They look like common cats, very small, and I believe the author of Mixed Unit Tactics mentions them, along with that they might be spellcasters," Gracchus said.

He has spent some time in Leyawiin in the past, and learned a great deal about Khajit while there. Gracchus had also almost memorized Mixed Unit Tactics, it being a favorite of his.

 

"Good. Some of my most recent work has involved them. I was going to ask you to go fetch one for me, but that may take considerably more time than you are willing to spend. However, I am interested in this Mixed Unit Tactics book you mention. I've never read it myself, but if it mentions the Alfiq, I would like to take a look at it. Go to the library and bring me a copy. That should be easy enough."

 

Gracchus turned to Elara, thinking that maybe Endar was speaking to her. His face wrinkled up when he realized the "go fetch" was directed at him, but nodded before heading back to the library.

The book was easy enough to find, sorta by title on the "M" section, so he grabbed it off the shelf and hurried back to the master wizard.

"Here it is, Mixed Unit Tactics. Enjoyable read. You'll find the Alfiq in the Khajit-Bosmer conflict chapter."

 

"Ah, good." Endar took the book and sat it on his desk. He was glad that the General had mentioned this to him, as he never would have suspected that information on the Alfiq could be found in a military strategy book. He studied Gracchus for a few seconds, making note of his age.

 "I have recently heard a few things about you. Things that I very much enjoyed to hear of. You see, politics bore me, and I take little interest major world affairs, but there is an exception. That is when they involve the Thalmor. You are the General who turned on them there, correct?"

 

Gracchus nodded, but frowned slightly. The events in Skyrim still brought forth sour memories.

"That I am. Right place, right time really. What is it you want to know?"

 

"Details, General! That is all I want to know." Endar looked more interested in this than Elara was used to. Endar truly despised the Thalmor. "Did you speak with their leader? How did they react to being turned on?"

 

"While I was there, two Mer led them. One was named Osgumund, who was eventually recalled to the Imperial City, and Valindil, an evil bastard who enjoyed torturing his victims.

Osgumund was a decent Altmer if there ever was one, even training some of my battlemages to use Elven magic. He seemed to be not as fanatical as Valindil. Not a lot more I can say about him, he left fairly early.

Valindil was a monster. The Nord leader, Baldur Red-Snow, would have died under the Altmer's torture had I not intervened. He got his though, as he was captured, killed, had his entrails pulled out and him for all to see.

After that, I used his capture to inspire the Thalmor troops, who lead the vanguard once we broke the walls of Falkreath down. Then they became trapped between our two armies, Nord on one side and Imperial on the other. Those that escaped were mowed down by my archers, who I'd hidden in the trees along the only road out.

A few were left in Helgen and a fort, from when I convinced their leader to use his forces to attack them. It weakened their overall strength, making the betrayal easier.

Anything more specific you wish to know?" Gracchus asked, glad the Dunmer had actually taken an interest in him.

 

Endar thought over what he'd been told. "So you tricked all of them?" He actually chuckled, which was something he virtually never did. "That just goes to show their misplaced arrogance. There's nothing I hate more than someone who can't live up to their overlarge ego. No, I don't think there is any more you can tell me. That was more than satisfying to hear the details of."

Endar looked around for a minute, then realized that he really wasn't in the middle of any projects at the moment. None that he could carry out here at least. He decided that he liked this Gracchus Ceno, if for no other reason than because he'd spited the Thalmor on a large scale, and that he'd humor the man's desire for "civilized conversation" if that is what he still wanted. Endar wasn't big on small-talk though, and wasn't quite sure how to start.
Thankfully for him, Elara spoke up. "So you're traveling with that Lord from High Rock right? where are you two heading?"

 

Gracchus smiled when Endar laughed, thankful to have broken the ice.

"I'm headed to Sentinel, in Hammerfell, to try and work out an alliance, or at least something like an alliance between us and the Redguards. Theodore is going home, to Camlorn, in High Rock. His father in law, the king, is dying, sadly," Gracchus responded, happy his presence here was not perceived as an annoyance.

 

Endar raised a brow. "You wouldn't happen to be taking a ship from Anvil would you?"

 

"That was the plan, although we haven't really discussed it. We may decide to take the scenic route. Why?"

 

Endar turned and opened a drawer on his desk, shuffling through it until he procured a thin leather-bound book. It had a button seal holding it closed. "I am much too busy to go there myself, and I like to keep Elara around for convienence. If you could take this to the castle and give it to the mage named Borkar, I could pay you well. You're a battlemage, correct? I have a spell tome you can keep if you'll make the delivery."

 

"I'd be glad to. I'm always looking to add to my skillset. The castle in Anvil, correct?"

Gracchus grabbed the leather bound book from the mage, sliding it in his pocket.

 

"Correct. And don't read it! It's for Borkar's eyes only. Now..." he began shuffling through another drawer. "...is there a particular school or spell you're interested in?"

 

"I won't," Gracchus chuckled.

As Endar shuffled through the drawer, Gracchus thought hard.

"I'm fairly skilled at restoration and destruction, so what do you have in those schools?"

 

Endar frowned and closed the drawer, then began shuffling again. "I should have... Here we are!"
He pulled out a fairly thin, old looking gray book that had a burning hand on the cover, as well as a few arcane symbols. "If you can comprehend what's in it, this tome should teach you how to conjure up a fire storm. It's considered by most to be a master level spell, so if it's too hard, maybe you can still sale the book for some coin at least."

 

Gracchus gingerly held the book, slowly flipping through its pages. Some of it was simple, other times it was almost impossible to read, but Gracchus knew he had enough time on this trip to decipher it.

"It'll do just fine, Master Wizard. Thank you very much. And I'll take good care of your book," he said, patting his shirt pocket.

 

"Very good." Endar sat for a moment, not quite sure where to go from there. "Is there anything else?" Gracchus was apparently a skilled, or at least confident, spellcaster to be sure. Though he didn't seem to have much interest Endar's own work, so the elf wasn't quite sure what to talk about when it came to "civilized discussion".

 

In all the business over the errand and just general chit chat, Gracchus hadn't realized how late it was.

"Well, I think I'll try and get some sleep tonight. Don't worry, I'll deliver your book, safe and sound," he said, patting the pocket the book was in.

With that he bowed, turned, an left, heading straight back to his room. Once there, he undressed, leaving him in only his loincloth, and crawled into the silken sheets, drifting into sleep almost instantly.

 

Once Gracchus had headed off, Endar sat still for several moments longer, still trying to picture the looks on the Thalmor's faces when they first realized that their "puppets" had turned on them. He allowed these thoughts to entertain him for several minutes more before getting out another journal to once again begin writing. He'd forgotten Elara was even in the room until she spoke up, breaking the near-silence he'd been enjoying.
"You know, you really need to learn how to socialize a bit. You know, like hold down a normal conversation with someone other than me an' the Count."

Endar didn't even look up. "And you need to learn that you're a stewardess and not a councilor. It's late, you can leave now."

She got the hint. Elara nodded and gathered a few of her things and headed out toward her own room down the hall. She'd be up for several hours more, spending a good part of the night lying awake on her bed reading some of Endar's discarded notes. Meanwhile, the wizard himself worked in his journals and finished writing two spell tomes. When he was done, and began putting away the tomes, he noticed a thin, gray book that he could've sworn wasn't supposed to be there.
"That's odd..." he said. This book was the one he had intended for Gracchus to deliver to Anvil. He considered going out and finding the General, but that seemed like far too much work. "Oh well." Borkar can wait. Whatever it was I sent, he can return it after he realizes the mistake. Endar headed to the wall with all the scrolls, and began the tedious nightlong task of copying them. I would be well into the morning before his work was finished.

**

Across the palace, Theo was quieting down, the party fading off as the night wore on. He conversed and drank, but was feeling rather tired himself.

 

Brutus however was unaffected. At least not by sleep. Brutus had two Nord women who were almost a head taller than he was around his arms, but he needed the extra size, considering he could barely walk in a straight line. Heading to the back of the palace with the giggling women, he turned to Theo and said, "Come on, T-theow! The...the party. It's not oveh...yet." The women were drunk themselves, but handling it a lot better than he was. One of them laughed a little more than what was considered necessary at what Brutus was hinting at.

 

Theo wordlessly followed, but once the count got out of sight, he broke off and went towards his room, were he sunk in a leather chair. The alcohol was overpowering, and he passed out within a minute.

 

Brutus didn't notice Theo disappearing on him. He was too busy with his latest acquaintances. When they arrived in the room, Brutus pushed the two onto the bed and had them strip. When they did, Brutus, with great difficulty, started to strip as well. When he finally removed his clothes he said, "And now I shall waggle my maggot in...in." Brutus gagged, throwing up in his mouth, but he kept it in, barely. "Now, like I was....sayi-" Before Brutus could finish, he passed out and fell on the bed, snug in between his two disappointed guests, who too soon fell asleep along with him.

 
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Windhelm

morning

 

The day before the wedding, Veleda found Menel dozing off a hangover in Candlehearth Hall, waited while he cleaned himself up, then set off for the Grey Quarter to pick up some spell books that were supposed to be coming in on a shipment from Blacklight. There had never been a better time to get access to Telvanni magic, since the surviving wizards were reputed to be scrounging for gold and more willing to trade than they had been in the past.

“I thought you were doing your drinking at the New Gnisis Cornerclub?†Veleda asked as they walked.

“Was. Drinks are good, but I think the meat on the spit might be shank of Nord. And the company’s horrible. I haven’t seen such a pack of sourpusses since I left the College of Whispers.â€

“The Dunmer have had a hard century or two.â€

“Haven’t we all. How’s the king?â€

“He’s...† She shrugged. “The king. Very proper. A bit on the arrogant side. What you’d expect really. He did encourage me to continue training apprentices, which was a surprise.â€

“No, I mean how is he...† Menel made a lewd gesture.  At Veleda’s wry expression, the Bosmer sighed. “You haven’t bedded him yet? What are you waiting for? Nobody’s going to buy that chapel-going virginal bride thing, if that’s what you’re going for.â€

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Can we talk about something else?â€

“If you’re out of practice, I could get you warmed up.†The Bosmer’s eyebrows waggled.

“With your little twig?â€

“It’s not the size that matters, my queen, it’s what you do with what you've got.â€

“As of tomorrow, such talk is treasonous. I could have you hanged by your thumbs.â€

“Ow. Kinky. I'm slightly aroused."

 

"Thank you for the status report."

A little voice piped up near them. “Would you like to buy some flowers?† Veleda stopped mid-stride and looked down at the young brown-haired girl, dressed in a ragged, dirty dress. She was holding a basket up towards them.

Menel peered into it. “Got anything illegal?â€

There were only a few half-wilted field flowers in the girl’s basket. The elf huffed and walked on, but Veleda hesitated at the girl's downcast expression. “Wait, don’t mind my friend. We dabble in some alchemy and are always looking for exotic ingredients. Your flowers will do for some basic potions. I’ll take everything you’ve got.† The girl’s face brightened, especially when Veleda paid twice what was asked. Curious, Fire-Hand asked the girl her name and where her parents were.

“It’s Sofie. They’re... they’re dead. My mama died when I was little. I don’t remember her very well. My father was a Stormcloak soldier. One day he left and didn’t come back." Her voice cracked with emotion. "I’m all alone. I try to sell flowers so I can buy food. It’s not much, but what else can I do?â€

Shocked into silence, Veleda glanced at Menel, who had returned grumbling to her side. The Bosmer started shaking his head. “No. No way. You don’t need this. Don’t even...â€

Veleda ignored him and turned back to the girl. “You have no one to look after you? It’s good that we met, then. I was hoping to hire a promising young woman to be my handmaiden. The job is boring, though. You may prefer to sell flowers.â€

Hesitantly the girl asked, “A handmaiden? What would I have to do?â€

“You'd be given nice clothes to wear, and have to sit next to me at meals, such as at the feast tomorrow. And later on you’ll have to attend lessons, once we find you a tutor. But you would have your own room and you could still pick flowers, if you wish. Only you needn’t sell them, just bring them to me. What do you say?â€

Sofie wavered, seeming not to trust that the offer was serious. “I... I guess I could do that.â€

Veleda smiled. “Then it’s settled. Go up to the palace and ask the door guards to show you in to Jorleif. Tell him that Fire-Hand sent you, and that you are to be given a room near mine and let in to breakfast. I’ve got some errands now, but we’ll be back soon and will see about getting you a dress for the feast.â€

“The palace?† She seemed frightened again.

“I’m afraid so. It looks imposing, but the rooms are quite cozy.â€

“My papa fought for the king, but I heard he...  he's a bad man. Don’t tell the soldiers I said so.â€

Veleda shot Menel a warning glance not to say anything. They weren’t in uniform or even in armor, so obviously she hadn't realized that they were Stormcloaks. If she got spooked, she might run off and not take the offer. Keeping her voice light, Veleda replied, “He’s not so bad, but you’d be working for me, not for him.â€

“Who are you?â€

“My name is Veleda. I’m new to the palace myself, so you and I can learn about it together. If you don’t like it, we’ll find somewhere else for you to live. It’s better than being on your own, isn’t it?â€

“I guess so. Are you really sure?† At Fire-Hand’s nod, the girl’s apprehension eased and her voice turned excited. “I’ll go right now. Thank you, mam... I mean, Veleda... I mean, my lady!â€

They watched the girl run off, and Menel shook his head. “What’s your new husband going to say when you start bringing home strays?â€

“She’s a Stormcloak child, a war orphan. I couldn’t leave her out here.â€

“There are lots of war orphans, from both sides.â€

“Maybe I can help those eventually, too, but for now I can help this one, at least until we can find a family to take her in. You saw her. She’s a sweet thing, but that won’t last if she stays out here much longer. And just think what would happen if another sort of person came upon her instead of us.â€

Menel regarded her with distaste. “You’re nesting. Haven’t even got the old ball and chain clamped on and already you’re Veleda Hearth-Warmer. This is a sad pass.â€

“Don’t be ridiculous. Come on, I’ve got a lot to do today.â€

As they continued on, Veleda had to reflect that Menel’s words weren't wholly false. It wasn’t that she was “nesting,†rather that the problems she would have passed over as sad facts of life now seemed like personal responsibilities. She wondered how Ulfric handled it, this sense that every person in Skyrim was his charge and their burdens were his. Veleda wondered if he would be relieved that she wanted to help him take it on, or if he would come to resent her for it.

 

***

The next day within the Palace, Ulfric hadn't been sitting in his throne, but standing, surrounded by Baldur's men who would be escorting the lot of them to the temple and stand between them and the civilians. Galmar was among them, waiting for Baldur and Rebec to arrive for the departure to the temple. And of course the Queen. Galmar had actually dressed up for the occasion. By polishing his hammer and sharpening the claws on his gauntlets. Ulfric simply sharpened his war axe and had the sword of Queen Freydis waiting for Veleda in hand.

 

Turning from their conversation, Galmar looked and saw Baldur in his new armor for the wedding. "Baldur, about time. Where's Rebec?" asked Galmar.

 

"And Veleda. Do you know if she is ready yet?" asked Ulfric.

 

"She's with mother, making sure everything is fitted right on her before her wedding," answered Baldur. "Rebec will be out soon."

 

A few minutes later Rebec emerged from upstairs, still adjusting belts on her new naval officer uniform as she stepped next to her husband. "The queen will be down soon, Your Majesty. Ysana's working her magic. It'll be worth the wait."  She looked over Baldur's armor proudly and gave him a wink.

 

Baldur didn't bother holding back his smile both from her wink and pride in how Rebec looked herself. Galmar looked down at his old gear and frowned after seeing Baldur and Rebec's new stuff. Ulfric offered him some new toys before, but Galmar wouldn't hear anything of it. He was regretting that now. "Well look at you two," he said, trying to hide the jealousy in his voice. "I thought the Imperials were the ones getting all fancy and dressed for weddings."

 

"Jealous, Stone-Fist?" Rebec smirked. To Ulfric she said, "Thank you for the gear, Your Majesty. I didn't expect it."

 

"Of course. It was long overdue. Couldn't have you thinking I didn't appreciate you as well," said the King.

 

"Well we got the message loud and clear. Thank you. The eye seeing thing with night vision was really cool. That Wuunferth's like an Eorlund with enchantments," said Baldur.

 

At last Ysana appeared with Veleda right behind her.  The new queen was dressed in a simple but finely made dress of black velvet, with an embroidered band of gold, red and green at the neck and sleeves, a sabrecat fur collar and a gilded sword belt. Wuunferth had contributed to her outfit, too, giving her a slim gold circlet set with rubies and emeralds and enchanted for magicka. Ysana had put Veleda's hair in large curlers and treated it with oils to make it shine, and had given her a muted, natural makeup of red cheeks and lips and kohl at her eyes.

 

Veleda had never felt intimidated by a group of soldiers, but she was usually approaching them for command. Smiling nervously at Baldur and Rebec, she stepped toward the king. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Your Majesty."

 

"Wow, your mother has quite the touch, Baldur. I'm impressed," said Ulfric, his reaction genuine but tame. Baldur wanted to say they should have seen Rebec, but thought better of it and gave a whistle.

 

"Not bad, Veleda! Ma, you did great, yet again," said Baldur. Ysana licked her thumb and wiped Veleda's eyebrows before standing back to admire her work once more.

 

Smiling and turning back to her son, she said, "Ah well, it's nothing. Thank you Baldur. And thank you, High King." She was being modest in her reaction, but on the inside she was glowing much brighter than her smug smile showed.

 

"I'm presentable then?" Veleda smiled. "Thank you, Ysana. I'd just as soon have worn my armor, but I can't get the char smell out. The people would probably prefer this." She waited for Ulfric to give his command.

 

"You're forgetting what city this is," said Baldur.

 

"Yes, armor would have been just fine. They may actually say it's your Cyrodiil background that made you dress this way. Not that it matters. Alright, lets get a move on," said Ulfric.

 

"Right. Men! Move out," said Galmar as if they were going on a military destination. The Necro Nords lined up on the left and right of the Palace hall, already marching their way out to provide a section from the people outside for the royal couple and their court. Baldur leaned over to Rebec and whispered, "You looked better."

 

"You're a little biased," Rebec whispered back, though she smiled, pleased. They filed in next to Galmar and walked along after the king and queen, stepping out into the bright morning sun. A few snowflakes wafted down, but for Windhelm it was a beautiful day.

 

It was a short walk to the Talos temple, their path packed every step with onlookers not just from Windhelm but from all the surrounding countryside and other parts of Skyrim, as well. The guards had been working them over all morning, sifting out the rabble and anyone who looked like trouble.

 

Only invited guests were allowed in to the temple itself, though the normally quiet hall was standing room only. Sunlight filtered down through the windows on the statue of Talos, head bowed, sword piercing the serpent. Towards the front, Menel stood with a now-bathed and finely dressed Sofie.  The Bosmer hadn't been happy about being given babysitting duty, but he gave Veleda a wry grin as she and the king approached.

 

Sofie, finally putting two and two together, said in amazement, "She's going to be the queen?!"  It was so loud that guests in the front laughed, and Veleda smiled at the girl and gave her a little wave.

 

Ulfric hadn't gotten the chance to speak about the girl, but he wanted to. Why, he wasn't sure. Perhaps he wasn't used to someone taking things on themselves. Even with Baldur, he had to talk with him about a few things because he didn't like having things done without him knowing immediately before. It was the same when the alliance was made in Falkreath. He was a bit controlling admittedly, which was the real reason why his court was so small, but Veleda taking things into her own hands was a good sign, not a bad one, even if her bringing Sofie under her wing without saying anything did make his bear snout twitch. He needed the help from her as much as Galmar and the others to rule the Kingdom properly. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he thought. It just made it easier. Ulfric hadn't realized he was glaring at the girl, but he didn't change his expression when he realized he was. Instead he simply took his position in the front of the chapel and left things at that.

 

Sofie shrank back at the king's glaring look, and grabbed for Menel's hand. The Bosmer looked down at the little hand as if it were a slaughterfish, but after a moment clasped it with an exasperated look. Fire-Hand is going to pay for this.

 

The queen-to-be had noticed Ulfric's expression, too, and hers firmed in response. If they had to work out their share of authority over something, it might as well be over an innocent victim of the war.

 

As Lortheim and Jora walked to the front as well to start the short ceremony, Baldur had taken his place next to Galmar who was at the edge of the bench. Ysana was next to Rebec. "It's a good thing we have a feast as well. Always seemed a bit strange to me that people put on such expensive attire as that dress for such a short occasion. I guess she can wear it other days too though."

 

"Normally I'd agree, but Ysana has talent. Nice to see it," said Galmar.

 

"Don't get your hopes up, Galmar. You're not her type," said Baldur, glaring at Galmar while he whispered so Ysana couldn't hear.

 

"Hehehe, we'll see about that, boy."

 

Rebec craned around looking for Vigge. He was nowhere to be seen, not liking crowds or pomp. He'd show up when the food was being served. Turning eyes back to the front, she glanced up at the big Talos statue that loomed above them all. Their family had never much liked the imperial cult, including Talos, but people said he was Ysmir too, like Wulfharth. If that was true, then it was fitting that Ulfric would marry under the war god's sword. Rebec thought about Runil and their own wedding. Like the king and queen, love had always gone together with the warrior life for them. It was the Nord way. Turning her eyes to Baldur, Rebec put her gloved hand in his gauntlet and smiled up at him.

 

Baldur was still eying Galmar before she put her hand over his. Both of them were glaring at each other, neither backing down. When Baldur felt the hand however, he forgot about the conversation and looked at Rebec while she looked to him. He knew what she was thinking about. It was pretty hard not to notice. Smiling, he put his other hand over hers and laced his fingers through hers. That was another thing he liked about their new attire. The fingers were free and allowed them to touch. He then scooted closer to her and leaned his head against Rebec's.

 

Ulfric had been carrying his Jagged Crown in hand but placed it on his head now that the ceremony was about to begin. Jora had started to clear her throat, so it was clear that she would be doing the speaking. Before she began, Ulfric quickly handed the sword of Queen Freydis in its scabbard to Veleda for her to take. "You recognize this?"

 

Veleda took the sword and admired the handiwork. "I'm afraid I don't."

 

The priests overheard the conversation and raised an eyebrow before looking at each other at the same time, clearly surprised that she didn't know. Ulfric gave them a look that said for them to mind their own business. "It's the sword of a High Queen in the second era. She ruled on her own, no High King with her. A strong Queen from the good old days. I thought it only fair that you get something legendary and prestigious as well to have if you'll be my Queen. This was recovered by the Dragonborn." As he spoke, he signaled for the priests to begin the rites. When he did, Jora walked forward and waited for the others to quiet down.

 

"We are gathered today, to respect and honor Talos with a marriage of our High King and now High Queen. This is not your typical marriage. It is not just witnessed by Mara. Talos is Ysmir and Ysmir being High King as well will give credence to this joining. Just like the life of most soldiers, this ceremony will be brief. For soldiers are what they are, yet may their lives be long before they go to Sovngarde. Before we proceed, is there anyone here brave enough to challenge the credibility of this marriage or the ones partaking in it? Anyone willing to challenge the god of war's judgement?"

 

Baldur took a look around the room at the various soldiers and nobles in the back who did not stir, then to the front of the palace with Ulfric's court. Then he looked up once more at the towering statue of Talos, imposing indeed like he was hoping there would be at least one who would dare, just for the chance to fight.

 

Veleda's eyes moved around as well, just waiting for someone to object. Her parents would be screaming objections from Cyrodiil. The priests themselves, maybe? She had sheathed Queen Freydis' sword, and filed away the name to look it up later, but noted the doubtful expressions. Glancing at Ulfric, she remembered his scowl at Sofie, and the business-like manner with which he had approached everything. That had seemed proper before, but now a moment of panic set in. I'm making a terrible mistake. Turning her eyes towards the figure of Talos, she reminded herself sternly that this was for Skyrim. Years ago she had determined that she would sacrifice personal freedom and happiness, maybe her own life, to keep Tamriel free from the Thalmor. That goal was larger now but it was still the same commitment. She took a deep breath and looked back at the priestess.

 

Satisfied that none had said anything, Jora proceeded. "Then by the authority of he who has risen from ash, and he who has risen from the binds of mortality, and by the authority given to me by the High King, in Ysmir's name, I proclaim High King Ulfric Stormcloak and High Queen Veleda Fire-Hand married." Jora signaled for her husband to continue the next step. He brought over a bowl with a ceremonial skyforge steel dagger and two royal rings in his hand.

 

"We now spill royal blood to symbolize the death of the Queen's old role as a single woman. Just as a Nord dies when their blood is shed. And the rings will bind them together and their finger wounds joined to symbolize the High Queen's rising into power through this marriage, just as a Nord rises to Sovngarde through a warrior's marriage to war." Jora and her husband waited for the couple to allow them to proceed.

 

Her expression more grim than the usual bride's, Veleda reached out her already scarred hand, holding it steady. Ulfric did the same.

 

Seeing that the two were stern and unwavering, Jora signaled for her husband to continue. After he sliced lightly at the tip of both Ulfric and Veleda's ring fingers, he pressed them together over the bowl, then placed the rings on their fingers. Then Jora took the bowl and dipped her finger in and began to paint their faces with it in swirl designs that Nords sometimes place with warpaint on newly wed couples. "And now we take the remainder of this royal blood, and place it at Talos' feet. By doing this, we ask him to bless this bloodline, so that it will stay strong and rule strong, just as he did when he still roamed the land. And now, it is done. Long live the King and Queen! Long live the Stormcloaks!"

 

The crowd in the temple erupted into cheers and shouts of well wishes. The loudest were Veleda's apprentices, who made up one rowdy section in the back.

 

Rebec joined in the cheering, then turned to Baldur. "Well. Talos weddings are bloody affairs, it seems. Of course, you and I got smeared with enough blood before and after ours to last for a hundred weddings."

 

"Oh yea, our wedding will be hard to top. Don't expect that anyone will for some time, eh? When Red-Snows get married, we make sure there's plenty of red to go around," he said. Remembering that day and being caught in the moment of the wedding made Baldur smile. Looking at Rebec, he put a finger under her chin and slowly drew near her, until he finally planted his lips on hers. Galmar rolled his eyes, but then leaned forward when that reminded him of something.

 

"Wait, you forgot to kiss, you two!" he said, pointing to Veleda and Ulfric and grinning as he did.

 

Veleda glanced over at Galmar and was about to wave off his words, but the suggestion was picked up by others in the crowd who turned it into a chanting demand. Glancing at Ulfric, she said, "I think they're going to riot."

 

"It was bound to come up eventually," said Ulfric. Taking no longer to give the crowd what they wanted, Ulfric took the initiative and stepped towards her, placing his hands behind her back as he locked his lips to hers, giving it a good presentation for the crowd, but making it brief in time. Once he pulled away, he smiled and turned to the crowd who was clapping and cheering, some even whistling. Baldur was among them. Laughing, Ulfric said, "Alright, begone with all of you! Go on, get out of here and enjoy yourselves!"

 

Veleda waited until some of the crowd had cleared, then stepped over to where Menel and Sofie stood. Brushing a hand over the little girl's cheek, the queen said, "Everything alright? You go with Menel back to the palace and I'll be along. You'll sit next to me at the feast."

 

The Bosmer shot her a withering look, then took Sofie's hand, resigned to nanny duty for a little while longer. "Come along then, young Nord. Have you heard the one about the Khajiit and the drunk barber?"

 

Meanwhile Veleda returned to Ulfric's side, avoiding his eyes. Several people came up to congratulate her and the king, including Baldur and Rebec. "Thank you," Veleda replied quickly. She had seen the Red-Snows' kiss earlier, and the contrast couldn't be more plain between their marriage and her own. Even if it wasn't unexpected, the display irked her.

 

Ulfric noticed the look on her face, but wasn't completely sure what to make of it. There wasn't anyone around, so Ulfric decided to ask. They'd need to get in that habit anyway. "Something on your mind?" It was obvious that there was, all things considered, but he didn't know what else to say. They may have been married, but neither were fooled into thinking that they would be caring in the way that two in love would be. Not now, anyway. "It gets better. Soon, the day will be behind you and you'll be back to work, mixing magical concoctions and so on."

 

"Is it that simple?" Veleda forced a smile, then waved her hand. "I know. I just hope we don't both live to regret this. It's fine. This is for them, not for us." She gestured at the people filing out, and the larger crowd that had gathered outside in the square.

 

Ulfric despite having been through this before found himself in alien territory now. With Elisif, he hadn't given a damn about her, so he just told her to suck it up and do what she was told. But with Veleda, she was loyal. And also a good Nord. So he respected her and did care enough to try and make her feel better. But at the same time, not coddle her. "It is that simple, if you choose for it to be. Otherwise, you risk making yourself miserable for dwelling on things too long. You said you hadn't planned on getting married before. Well, this isn't a traditional marriage. I won't get in your way more than necessary and you the same I imagine. Neither of us has to be closer than that unless we choose to. Maybe some day we will."

 

Veleda glanced at him, surprised that he was soliciting her feelings at all. It calmed her somewhat. "I'm not one to look back or to dwell. Just jitters, I suppose. They've passed. Thank you, and for the sword as well. I'll wear it proudly."

 

Ulfric looked down thoughtfully, then back to her and nodded. It would take some getting used to for him as well. "Alright, then. What do you say we make one more crowd appearance, then you can go your own way until it's time for the feast?"

 

"Very well. After you, Your Majesty."

 

Ulfric took her arm and lead her to the entrance of the door. As expected there were a lot of people waiting for their return. They didn't disappoint, filling the air with cheers and cries as he returned their calls with waves, occasionally shaking hands as they walked by. As they made their way back to the doors of the palace, Ulfric said in a low tone. "Now, about this girl. Who is she?"

 

Right to the point. Veleda was relieved about that. Briefly she recounted Sofie's sad tale. "I told her that I would take her on as handmaiden, but that was to save her pride. I plan to look for a home for her, perhaps see about starting an orphanage here. Also, she thinks you're a bad man." Smiling a little, she went on, "You might try harder to convince her otherwise?"

 

Ulfric stayed quiet for a while before he gave an answer. "She can think what she wants. Like with the civil war, I never tried being anything other than what I was. Everyone else was free to think what they wanted. If she thinks I'm a bad man, so be it. I'd be interested to see why, for curiosity's sake. Anyway, you should be careful on how many causes you start taking up. People may get the wrong idea with your first act as Queen being to start an orphanage. Not that it matters. Get my meaning?"

 

"No, not really. I didn't think about it being a first act, just something which needs doing. As for Sofie's impression of you, it probably comes from the Dunmer. She sold flowers near the Grey Quarter, and some passers-by showed me the pallet where she sleeps. In the freezing cold." There was firmness in Veleda's tone, if not quite challenge. "If people see the children of veterans starving in the streets, they'll not gladly sign up to leave their families behind."

 

"There are things that need doing all over the place. Some things take priority over others. If it were me, I'd have her sent to the orphanage in Riften. However, you taking her in is fine. As for the orphanage, other things take priority. An orphanage would be nice, but taking care of the land grants in the Reach is more important. Once some room is freed up and things improve, people may start taking others in on their own. Then the orphanage you intend on making won't be as over-burdened.

 

I wouldn't say I'm a bad man. Though not really good, either. I'm practical. But, if you wish to take care of this orphanage situation first, you're free to. It won't hurt anything. What I'd like to know, though is where those Dunmer get the nerve to call me a bad man while they have free room and board in my city. I don't see them offering a hand to any of the Nords without homes."

 

Veleda shrugged. "They're a proud people abandoned by their own gods, if the stories are true. Maybe some of them were rich or politically powerful before and now they're reduced to poverty. It's easier to blame the local ruler than face what happened to their home. You must be used to negative gossip. The Dunmer complaints are nothing to what the imperials said about you."

 

"Comes with the territory. I am used to it. You will be too. You're inheriting a lot of that by marrying me. For every person saying negative things, there's another saying the opposite. They may not like me, but then children usually don't like it when their parents give them tough love. In a way, we are their parents," said Ulfric.

 

"I'm used to being cursed as a traitor, so I'm not afraid of criticism. Though Jorleif told me that our marriage has renewed fears you will isolate Skyrim from the rest of Tamriel. I know you're sending the Red-Snows to Hammerfell. We should talk about similar measures for Cyrodiil and Morrowind."

 

As the king and queen were speaking, well wishers pressed in around them behind the screen of guards, craning their necks to gawk at the new queen and gossip about the pair. Some called out to her. Glancing over, Veleda said, "Should I go greet them?"

 

"Yes, let's greet them, then we can discuss the matter of Cyrodiil and Morrowind," said Ulfric.

 

Veleda walked over to the guards and started taking the hands that were stuck through them, clasping one after the other. Finally, when the crowd had died down as people went off to look for mead or a hot drink, she returned to Ulfric holding the flowers and little gifts people had pressed into her hands.

 

"Heh, enjoyed that did you?" he said smirking before walking next to her to the Palace.

 

"It's so strange. I admit, I keep expecting Thalmor assassins to jump out at me. I haven't had that feeling in a while." Inside the palace, a maid took the things from her hands to bring them to her quarters.

 

"Probably best you don't lose that feeling. You never know." Ulfric took a seat at the table where the feast would be laid out on soon and waited for her to take a seat as well. "Now, about this Cyrodiil and Morrowind thing."

 

Veleda sat down across from him. "Have you made any plans to send ambassadors?"

 

"Ha, and let the Imperials think we need them? No. Marius only worked as one because he's not really one of us, regardless of what Baldur said. He and Rebec will need to go there eventually to get things straight for the great war, as far as us going through Cyrodiil, but besides that, I have no plans on sending anyone there on a regular basis. In fact, no. Baldur and Rebec can stay. Let them come to us. They need us. I'll send them a letter with an invite for them to visit my court."

 

"Do that, but don't dismiss the idea of an ambassador. Someone able and energetic. Skyrim needs representation in trade, and eyes on what is happening down there, since the situation can change quickly. It's to our advantage, not theirs."

 

Ulfric said, "Trade is fine as it is. We get enough of that from the East Empire Company, who wasn't exactly happy when Motierre blocked it off from us during the war. Especially from someone in the family of those who are in the higher positions in that trading company. The current Empress knows that people are wary of her being like her spineless father. She wouldn't dare try that again, not that there'd be a reason for her to. What Motierre did was as bad for them as it was for us. He only did it because of the Thalmor. Trade will take care of itself without my interfering. Like I said, they need us. And everyone knows it. As for Morrowind, I'd be more open to them, but I don't know if much good would come of it. They're too busy with their own problems with the lizards and rebuilding to care of others."

 

Veleda's finger tapped the table, but after a moment she shrugged. "As you say, Your Majesty. It's not that I want to go looking for problems, but better to see them far off than when they're at your doorstep." Standing, she said, "I'll take my leave then, until the feast."

 

Ulfric was about to let her leave, but he sensed her frustration. Quickly he said, "Wait, I'll consider what you said about the ambassador. Just...let me think over it some more. Consider candidates and so on."

 

She turned back, surprised. "Good. I... honestly I didn't expect you to listen to me as much as you have."

 

"Neither did I," he said, simply. "But that's what you're here for."

 

She had to laugh at that. "Very well. You can blame me if it goes wrong. Until later, Your Majesty."

 

 

To be continued
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Windhelm, continued

 

***

Baldur and Rebec had wandered out into the streets, looking at the vendors set up for the feast, and pausing to listen to a bard singing a song about Ysgramor. As they passed a group of old men sitting around playing tafl, Rebec stopped as she heard a voice growling, "You're a damned dirty cheater. I saw that."

 

The other man was having none of it. "Bite this, Tsun-Biter!"

 

Rebec turned, grabbing Baldur's arm. "Oh no. That's papa."

 

"Sounds like he's gonna be in a fight. Should be good," said Baldur, grinning as they followed the voice.

 

The two men had stood up, strewing tafl pieces across the path, and were pushing at each other's chests.

 

"Papa, no!" Rebec tried to shout above the noise, but there were too many people talking too loudly in between. As the proper brawl started, the other passers-by stopped to watch, laughing. Nords loved a good fight, and Dunmer loved to see Nords roughing each other up.

 

The "cheater" was a head shorter than Vigge and had a correspondingly shorter reach. After he had taken a roundhouse that staggered him back, and a hook on the jaw, he got frustrated and barreled into Vigge's midsection. The two men plowed into the onlookers behind them and soon other fists were flying, too. Rebec saw some guardsmen headed their way and had a flashback to Markarth.

 

Pushing her way through the crowd, Rebec hauled a Breton off her father's back and thwacked another man with her gauntlet, then managed to shove her way in between Vigge and his bloodied opponent. Seeing his daughter, Vigge stopped short with his fists still in the air. "Out of my way, girl."

 

Rebec shook her head. "Not a chance. You'll end up in the jail and miss the feast. You had your fun, papa, now back off."

 

Onlookers groaned in disappointment that the brawl had been called off, and started going on about their business. Vigge's opponent was on the ground, moaning, but was helped up by his friends.

 

His blood cooling, the sailor's expression turned sheepish and he grinned a little, turning to see Baldur come up. "How now, son-in-law. I'm just honoring the ancestors with the old five-fingered salute."

 

"Haha, that's my pa! No complaints here, old man. You get put in jail, I'll just get you out, no problem." Baldur stuck his hand out for Vigge to take. "And the other man too. Can't have people throwing around claims of corruption. A man handling from Tsun-Biter's punishment enough anyway."

 

Vigge shook Baldur's hand vigorously, then put his arm around Rebec's shoulders and flipped at the lace on her collar. "Look at you, all tarted up."

 

"It's a naval uniform. Don't you like it?"

 

Pulling her in with his arm, he kissed her temple. "What do you need all that for just to go sailing? Alright, no pouting. Come, son-in-law. I'll buy you both a drink."

 

Candlehearth Hall was packed, but they had set up serving tables outside along with braziers for hand-warming. "Keep a hand on your purse, children," Vigge said as they walked through the crowd.

 

"He's a lot more talkative now, eh?" said Baldur, whispering behind him to Rebec.

 

She made a glass-tipping motion with her hand. Vigge had been at the mead already that morning. "And beating down some fool puts him in a good mood. I take after him in that respect."

 

Baldur shrugged in acknowledgement that what she said made sense. Seeing an empty table ahead, Baldur quickly ran forward and secured it before anyone else tried to. He made sure to pull a chair next to him for Rebec to sit. "So, pa. I think you've proved to everyone already that you're no milkdrinker. So wouldn't you like to spend at least one night in the Palace of Ysgramor?"

 

Vigge distributed sloshing mugs of mead to all three and shot Baldur a quizzical look. "You worried about me, son-in-law?"

 

Baldur gave him the same look, thinking the answer obvious. "Well, of course. Why wouldn't I be? I know you can take care of yourself just fine. That doesn't mean you have to. Besides, if any of your sailor buddies knew you passed up the Palace of Kings, they'd probably gang you."

 

The old man took a long draw on his mead, burped, and said nothing further. Rebec, watching him, shook her head. "You're wasting your time, Baldur. This stubborn old fool would rather sleep on his ship in the middle of a snowstorm."

 

Her father took out a cigarette, lit it, and sat back. "So where are my grandchildren?" This was directed at Baldur.

 

Baldur grinned, then glanced at Rebec and said, "They're coming, I promise. If Rebec still feels like having more after the first. We've settled on Ragna if it's a girl. Not sure about the boy name yet, though."

 

"You could name him Vigge. Vigge the Littler." The old man's expression was placid except for the mischievous glint in his blue eyes. When Rebec snorted, he reached over and gave her ponytail a tug.

 

"Papa, have you found any sailors for me?" Obviously Rebec was eager to change the subject.

 

"You won't find good ones for what you're paying. Just louts and skeevers."

 

She sighed and turned to Baldur. "This is why it's hard to keep a professional navy. The real sailors want to go where the money is. We may have to keep relying on merchant auxiliaries."

 

Baldur said, "Well, that sounds fine to me. We don't want to waste our good sailors for smaller roles. We could focus on leadership roles. First mates and so on, then pay them more to train our own. Then eventually we'll have good sailors for less pay. I'm sure you guys thought of that already though. And the name..." Baldur through Vigge a wink. "I'll keep it in consideration."

 

"I suppose. It's hard to keep disciplined crews together and trained when they're not all committed to the navy. And now that it's peacetime they'll lose their fighting edge. Maybe I need to set up a training exercise for the summer, after we get back from Hammerfell." Rebec turned to her father. "Do you want to come to Sentinel with us, papa? You're talking about grandchildren, but you haven't seen the boys since they were babies."

 

"I'll be dead by then," Vigge grumbled. "What're you going to Hammerfell for anyway?"

 

"Oh hush it, old man. You're too stubborn to die. If you did, you'd probably turn down Sovngarde for the Deadlands because it's too peaceful." Baldur started chuckling at imagining Vigge at the whalebone bridge, biting Tsun's leg, as his namesake demands, then turning back because Shor's Hall was too soft for him.

 

"Anyway, we're going to negotiate and crack some Redguard skulls. Make sure this alliance with Hammerfell stays. We want the whole of Hammerfell, not just the Forebears. Now that they're united, we may not even get that if we don't do something. They don't trust our southern brothers and think we'll let them fool us into their control again. So we need to reassure them that isn't the case."

 

Vigge made a skeptical noise. "Hm, well, good luck with that." He downed his mead and stood, apparently intent on finding another tafl game or brawl, or both.

 

Rebec called after him, "Are you at least coming up to the palace for the feast?"  When the old sailor just raised a hand in acknowledgement, she shook her head and turned back to Baldur. "Talkative, eh? Anyway, we probably ought to go find your ma before Galmar does."

 

"Hmph, as if he'd have a chance," Baldur said sourly as he stood. "He's not exactly charming."

 

"Don't be so sure. Your ma's had a long dry spell."

 

They were stopped several times on the way by Stormcloaks, hustlers and beggars, finally making it back to the palace. The throne room was a hive of activity preparing for the feast. Tapestries had been hung on the walls depicting scenes from Nord history. Rebec paused at one. It showed a woman at the stern of a ship, pointing out towards Tamriel, with a frozen Atmora in the background. She was shown wearing armor similar to Baldur's. Behind her in the boat were shaggy oarsmen and passengers.

 

"Rebec the Red. I wonder which of those men are her pity husbands."

 

Baldur said, "Wouldn't be surprised if it was the lot of them. You know how many husbands she had? Heh, bet you wish you got that draugr armor now, don't you? Eorlund could have made the skirt longer."

 

"He'd have to fill in the sides, too. By that time he might as well make me a new set entirely." She looked around at the servants' activity. "You know what this feast is missing? Boldir. No sign of that cursed bird?"

 

"You just had to say the B word, didn't you?" Baldur's expression sunk briefly until he shrugged it off. "The bird likely won't be ready to come for another week. Who do you think is going to recite the list of names? Ulfric? And when you were announced as the High Admiral, did he make you give a speech?"

 

Rebec looked horrified. "Gods no. I'll leave that to you."

 

"Ah, well if he didn't make you give one, then there's no reason he'd make me give one, right?" asked Baldur.

 

"That's what we've got a king for. And now a queen. You couldn't pay me enough to take that job."

 

"Thing is, he seems to fancy me as a shield thane. And as co-head of the military, I'll have to instill confidence in the men. There are those who still see me as someone who was given titles rather than earned. I think the Queen probably feels the same way. We talk about her being a strong Queen, but people are going to want to see if that is true, or not."

 

"Strength is in deeds. We aren't fancy talkers like the imps. Battle speeches, now that's something else."

 

"Ha, tell that to Ulfric. He gives speeches better than any Imp. And the Queen does come from Cyrodiil," said Baldur. "If he does make mention of it, I suppose I won't mind. I can give one, I'd just rather not. I find them to be pretentious. I'll just speak from the heart and keep it brief. I wonder if the Queen will or not. Seems appropriate."

 

"This isn't going to be boring, is it? Remember Herkel the Fool."

 

"Lets see, we have to listen to someone recite five hundred ancient Nord names, some of them paragraphs long, then possibly some speeches. Lets just say, the feast part couldn't come sooner. At least there's mead. Maybe we can throw in some songs to liven things up, eh? The after party's what I'm looking forward to."

 

"Paragraph-long names." Rebec snickered. "Well, I don't see your ma here anywhere. We'd better go check Galmar's quarters."

 

***

After Baldur and Rebec snagged Ysana, who luckily for Baldur was not in Galmar's quarters, Ulfric's team of servants finished preparations for the feast. The table was covered in mostly meats with large bowls of vegetable soups and bread next to it. Other wooden tables were put out for various commanders and ship captains, as well as some of their guests. The main table was reserved for Ulfric's court, namely Galmar, Baldur, Rebec, Jorleif, Thrice-Pierced and Baldur and Rebec's parents. As well as of course Ulfric and Veleda.

 

Baldur sat next to Rebec and Galmar, and across from them was Vigge and Ysana, with room at the end for Ulfric and Veleda, with Sofie sitting next to her. Baldur looked around and saw lots of unfamiliar faces staring at them, since they were at the "privileged" table. Probably wondering who their guests were. Leaning over to Rebec, Baldur said, "Where's Mazoga? She'll be late."

 

"I told her about it, but I don't know if she'll come. She said something about it being a Nord festival, not a place for orcs."

 

Baldur said, "The Queen's got a Bosmer here. Did you tell her that?"

 

Rebec looked over to where the fat little Bosmer was wedged in among Nords, already shoveling his face full of food. "Uh... no, I didn't know about the elf. He looks like he thinks he's a Nord."

 

"Oh well. A shame," he said.

 

Across the table, Ysana was staying quiet, not used to so many people around and feeling out of place. Turning to Vigge, she said, "So, you're Rebec's father? Heard you gave my boy some trouble."

 

Vigge wasn't too happy about the setting, either, though the food was good. He'd said a gruff hello to Ysana and otherwise hadn't uttered a word to anyone. At her question, he mumbled something and speared another slab of roast pork.  Rebec leaned over. "I think what papa meant to say is that he had to figure out if Baldur was good enough for me."

 

"And what's your answer now, Sir grumps?" Ysana gave him a smile, but she was curious to the answer, as was Baldur, although he didn't want Ysana nagging him.

 

"Ma, let the man eat in peace. He's a show-er, not a teller. And he's been nice enough."

 

"My warning still stands, boy," Vigge said to him, though his eyes were mirthful. Of course he meant the warning about limb removal if Baldur hurt his daughter. Turning to Ysana, he asked gruffly, "You're some kind of priest?"

 

"You know what kind of priest she is, old man. Rebec told me she told you." Baldur narrowed his eyes, but he was smirking.

 

"Yes, I'm a priest of Dibella. Or I was, anyway. Why do you ask?"

 

"Yes, why do you ask?" Galmar finally opened his mouth, now interested in the conversation for the first time.

 

"Making conversation," Vigge growled back at Galmar. He then went back to his pork, stabbing it ruthlessly with his eating dagger. That was the beginning and end of that conversation.

 

Veleda watched the exchange with a wry smile, until Sofie piped up next to her. "Dibella? Which goddess is that one?"

 

"Goddess of beauty and the arts," the queen answered.  "And torture," Rebec added across the table.

 

"And potato mashing," Baldur threw in with a devilish smirk.

 

"Sweetrolls," Rebec added.

 

Sofie brightened at that. "I love sweetrolls."

 

"So does Baldur," the admiral replied. "Without frosting."

 

Baldur looked at Rebec and said with a straight face, "Not all the time. I'm just picky where it comes from. Only trust my own recipe." Ysana just sat there, face turning red whilst holding back her fit of laughter that was surely to come. Galmar just looked confused, clearly out of the inside joke.

 

"Do you make good frosting, Mister Baldur?" Sofie asked.

 

"It's High General," Veleda corrected. She didn't know the joke, either, but could guess the gist of it, especially when she saw the look crossing the admiral's face.

 

"His is the best in Tamriel," Rebec replied, only barely controlling her laughter.

 

Baldur took a look at Vigge half fearful and half curious to see what he was thinking of the conversation. Ysana was wide eyed, but she hid her face in her hood. Baldur took a swig of mead to keep from bursting out laughing. "Well, thank you my love. But we're a team, don't let her fool you. My frosting would be nothing without my wife's cooking skills. Her sweetroll's always the softest, most tender delicious sweetroll you'd ever bite into. By my Nord's honor, I swear that to you."

 

"Wow!" Sofie's eyes were wide. She had been shoveling in food almost as fast as Menel was, but the talk of sweetrolls was only making her hungrier, which fortunately stopped any further questioning.

 

Rebec, nearly choking from suppressed laughter, said, "My love, I think you'd better give a toast to our new queen, and to the true High King of Skyrim."

 

"Of course. To High King Ulfric Stormcloak and High Queen Veleda. Long live the King and Queen!" The table all raised their tankards and slapped their cups together. Some of the mead spilled, but no one paid any attention to it.  The shout echoed across the hall as guests raised their mugs.

 

"Thank you, Baldur. Nice to talk about something other than what you two do in the bedroom," said Ulfric.

 

"Well, you put those nice fires in the room, so it seemed only fitting we use them to bake," said Baldur to save face. Avoiding Vigge's eyes and Ysana's snickering, he said, "So, Veleda, who's this young lady?"

 

"Oh, this is Sofie. She's going to be helping me out while I get used to my new duties." The queen smiled at the girl. "You haven't got a moniker yet, have you? You'll have to earn one."

 

"A mon-" The girl appeared confused.

 

"It's like a nickname almost, little one. Mine is the Unkindled. My father in law, here has Tsun-Biter. Veleda's is Fire-Hand," said Baldur. "Maybe if you become a strong girl you can have one as well."

 

"And some become a clan name, like the ones read out today," Veleda added. At that, the girl frowned and her face fell. It was apparent that she made some association to her parents from the conversation. Laying a hand on her shoulder, the queen explained, "Sofie's father died bravely in our cause. He is feasting tonight in Sovngarde with all the heroes of our ancestors. To the honored dead." She lifted her glass for a toast, and out of the corner of her eye noticed Sofie's head raise and her expression ease somewhat at the image.

 

Ulfric took the initiative and said, "To the true sons and daughters of Skyrim. May we thank and honor those who fell to give us the freedom we have today!"

 

"Aye, to the Stormcloaks and their family members who support them," said Baldur as the others toasted. Baldur saw Ysana avert her eyes, as she didn't toast. He knew the reason.

 

"And also, to the other Nords who fell victim to this war, torn apart from us by the Empire. They may have been our enemies, but they are our brothers. And they were worthy foes." Ysana looked to Baldur from the corner of her eye and smiled a little, then slowly raised her cup as well.

 

"And to the worthy among our allies," Rebec added, obviously having a speech or two in her after all. "Redguard, orc and Dunmer. To Jodun and Reval. Gods avenge the hands that felled you."

 

Veleda added, "Hear, hear. To the Bosmer, as well, and all who fight beside us. May they inspire courage in others to do the same."  At this Menel gave a war whoop and sloshed his ale mug in her direction.

 

There were other shouts in the hall, a toast that went on almost as long as the recitation earlier, though with more drinking.

 

The line about the Bosmer made Baldur's eyes go to the table. Eventually, Baldur said under his breath, "Maori. Wherever you are... to you as well."

 

By the time the toasts were done, more food had been brought out, though true to Herkel's tale, there were a few who'd already collapsed into their plates, though in no danger of freezing to death in the warm hall.

 

Veleda took Sofie up to tuck her in, then returned and sat at her place, not having eaten or drunk much herself. Across the hall, she watched Ulfric talking with his men. Predictably, the Red-Snows were hanging on each other nearby, exchanging mooning looks. Though earlier the sight had bothered her, the queen decided it was only her doubts about what she was doing that had unsettled her. She and Ulfric would probably never look at each other that way. She respected him, however, and it was obvious from the way he took her ideas seriously that it was mutual. That was a start.

 

Galmar was already in his room, passed out from food and mead coma, while Ysana was still at the table with Vigge, still out eating the other men. She hadn't taken her eyes off of her sun for most of the night and that hadn't change now. Turning to Vigge, she said, "Look at them. Wonderful, isn't it?"

 

Vigge's slightly bleary eyes turned toward his daughter and her husband. He didn't reply for some moments. "If it lasts," he answered finally.  "You have doubts?" she asked.  The sailor shrugged. "She thought the other one was grand, too. That was a long time ago."

 

Ysana looked back to Rebec curiously, considering that thought, then shook her head. "No, I don't think it was quite like this. I didn't know the other one, but when she mentioned them getting his remains, there wasn't much in her when she said it. When you really love someone, I mean really love them...and you find out they're..." Ysana stopped herself from continuing, not just for herself, but for consideration of her present company, realizing Rebec's father hadn't brought a wife. "Did she lose her mother?"

 

"A few years back," Vigge confirmed in a mumble. His deeply lined face twitched a moment, then returned to its placid stare.

 

Ysana put a hand on his shoulder for a few moments, then rubbed his arm before standing up from the table. "I'm off to bed now. Have Baldur show you to your room. Oh, and if you still have doubts about my son and how he feels about your daughter, tell him to show you A Gift of the Hawk."

 

Vigge started a little at the hand on his arm, glanced at Ysana, then looked back as she stood, seeming to see her for the first time. "Good night," he said simply, returning to his mead mug. It was empty. He stood, tottered a little, and stared around, wondering if the palace had a privy or if it was all for show.

 

Seeing him, Rebec came over. "Papa, you alright?"

 

"Gotta piss."

 

"Come on, let's get you to a room and then you can pass out when you're done." Signaling Baldur, Rebec took Vigge's arm and led him upstairs. She could read his silence and grunts more easily than others, and knew that he felt out of place, and out of sorts from being at a celebration without his wife. He accepted her help and didn't protest about the room, either. At the door he gave Rebec a quick hug and kiss on her forehead and growled, "Now go on. That bard'll start crying if you're gone too long."

 

"Battle Bard. Battle Bards don't cry, pa. In public," Baldur said, coming up in time to hear the comment. "Good night. You'll thank us later when you've had a night off the pallet to rest."

 

"Good night, son-in-law," Vigge slurred as the door shut behind him.

 

Rebec turned, grinning. "He's claiming you now, at least. Maybe he'll eventually learn your first name."

 

Baldur put an arm over her shoulder and lead her to their quarters. "I'll take son-in-law over grunts. It's nice hearing him call me son. That was a good feast, eh? Even with the speech, which luckily came before the name reciting. Otherwise, everyone would've been too bored to listen. Ma and Vigge seemed to get along."

 

"He was talking to her. That's something. He misses mama still. I imagine your ma's not quite over Ulrin, either."

 

"No," he said simply, knowing she was not. Walking into the room, he quickly drpped his armor, then laid out into the bed eagerly, thankful to finally be through the long day. Looking to her, he said, "I couldn't imagine having to be put through what your pa is right now. If you pass first, I won't be sticking around here for very long."

 

"You just go on," Rebec answered, shrugging. She was disassembling her uniform belts. "He wants to keep the house, but I think he'll be happier if he moves to our little town. Especially if there's a child."

 

"There will be," he said. "Little Ragna. Or Vigge, hehe, or something. Or Bjornir."

 

Rebec smiled. She was trying to put aside her fears and sadness for Baldur's sake. "Ships to tinker with and a baby to sit on his knee, that'd stop him talking about dying for a little while. If he can get the baby away from you and your ma."

 

"I think we'll all be competing for time with the child. May need to make more just so everyone can have one." Baldur's eyes were shut as he pictured that. Under the sheets, he smiled then rolled to his side. "Hurry up with those straps why don't you. I need you."

 

"This thing... I think it's the first test of a naval officer's dexterity." Eventually she got the uniform off and a wool shift over her head. Crawling into bed at last, she said, "How you think Ulfric's doing with our new queen? Has to be better than Elisif."

 

Baldur put an arm over her waist and rested his head next hers and said, "You think they're doing anything? So soon? With Elisif he wouldn't care what she thought, but with Veleda, someone loyal, I'd think he'd give her some time first. To get used to things."

 

"Maybe. Looks like she's already got a spare lined up if they can't have their own child. Cute girl, though. We shouldn't have teased her about the sweetrolls." She grinned, not really repentant at all.

 

Baldur let out the laugh he was holding back at the table, then said, "Well, you started it. I was just going along. I can't believe you did that in front of Vigge. You like putting my life on the line, don't you?"

 

"Well you do like sweetrolls." She laughed, then reached over to douse the lamp at the bedside before returning to her comfortable spot on his arm.

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Tacitus

Topal Sea

Midday

 

The Imperial flotilla sailed with the wind, a steady breeze going north to south, on this calm afternoon. Nature and the currents spurring the ships along at a quick pace.

 

Blissful was the only way to describe the setting, even with the small armadas directive in mind, Tacitus thought it serene. He longed for these moments, him, a ship, and the sea.

 

Both fortunately and unfortunately, the masts of the Altmer ships broke over the horizon. Instantly the High Admiral snapped to attention, shifting his focus away from the sea and to the enemy. The Thalmor cargo ship ran heavy with gold, silver, wool and food, all headed for Elsweyr. Similar to the last ship the flotilla came upon, this one too had a cutter escort.

 

The large cog lumbered over the waves, while the agile cutter danced ahead to draw the fire of the Imperials away from the merchant ship.

 

Tacitus ordered the three galleys that accompanied him to tear off for cutter. The rowers pushed and pulled, heaving their ships away from the group. The escort ship had little choice but to try and forestall the ships after it, knowing the more numerous Imperials had the advantage.

 

That battle was very one sided, both sides exchanging arrow fire before one galley landed its ram on the cutter's starboard side. The Altmer sailors scrambled around like ants, hopelessly trying to survive. As the ship sank into the depths, the Imperials ships went about collecting any survivors they could find. Who knew what one sailor might have overheard, and the Penitus Oculatus was sure to want to question them.

 

Through his spyglass, Tacitus watched the cog's crew arm themselves, with everything from brooms to swords. The captain obviously thought his ship was fast enough to escape the trio of Imperial ships after him, but was sorely mistaken.

 

After a few minutes of chase, the dromons ran the ship down, and pulled alongside the cog. Tacitus, on the caravel slightly trailing, yelled with his magically aided voice, "Surrender or die!"

 

The ominous message was not lost on the cargo ship's crew, as several could be seen yelling and arguing amongst themselves. The cog never faltered, however, so Tacitus had little choice but to try and take the vessel.

 

Boarding another vessel at sea was dangerous, even on a calm day. Grappling hooks were an option, but if one ship sank the other could go down with it. Thankfully, Imperial engineers developed a specific tool for the task.

 

Mounted on the a bow of each dromon was a bridge with a large iron spike on the bottom. After the dromons had maneuvered around to assault the cog, the bridge was dropped and the spike impaled itself onto the merchant ship's deck, giving easy access to the Imperial marines.

 

In a futile effort, the Altmer crew made the first move, attacking the marines with sword, broom, and fist. Blood covered the deck, mixing with seawater causing people to slip and slide. Tacitus had already begun boarding a rowboat to inspect the cog himself, and hadn't even left by the time it was over. Several of the Altmer had surrendered, choosing to forgo the fate so many of their brethren had followed.

 

Tacitus, vest in bottomed and face scruffy, looked nothing like one would expect from an admiral, which is what he wanted.

 

Pompous, haughty fools. Let them know that this disheveled mere man bested them on this day. Us, inferior beings, fighting on their turf at sea, won this battle, and decisively so, Tacitus thought happily.

 

It may have been wrong to add insult to injury, but these people aided the Thalmor, whether it was forced or not mattered little.

 

Tacitus had moved past the prisoners, the captain not among them, and into said captain's quarters. A simple bed and desk took up most of the room, the rest a chest occupied.

 

"Take that back to my ship, I'll have a look at it later," he ordered the men following him like ducklings.

 

The drawers and beneath the bed held nothing, so Tacitus moved into the cargo hold to inspect his booty.

 

Bales of cotton stacked deck to ceiling took up the left side of the hold, while chests and barrels filled the rest. Water slowly seeped in the front of the ship, where the dromons ram still stuck in the side. So long as it didn't pull out the ship would stay afloat, albeit not for long. The moving crew knew this and hurried along, hoisting barrels to the top deck to move them over.

 

As his blond hair reached the sunlight once more, the galleys had arrived, leaving the wreckage of the cutter still floating on the water.

 

A messenger from their captains approached, his face filled with both eagerness at the battle but horror at the blood on the deck.

 

"Sir, we took seven captives, non high priority. Shall we transfer them to your ship?"

 

As had been custom, the admiral was supposed to question the captives first, but Tacitus found no joy in it and hadn't done it since his appointment. He figured he had to this time though, intuition telling him he needed to.

 

"Yes, I suppose I must take care of that nonsense. See you're captain is congratulated," he said gruffly, before he remounted the skiff and was rowed back to the Tempest.

 

**

 

Tacitus spent most of the day evaluating losses and damages, which were both few. One galley lost some oars when it scrapped the cutter, and the dromons bridge spike had someone embedded itself in the cog, so that would have to be replaced. Casualties were low, the arrows being the only form of injury. Only two men ha died, one from the cutters arrows and another from the cogs. After that was over, Tacitus moved to his quarters at the rear of the ship.

 

Much to his surprise, the chest from earlier was waiting for him. He had forgotten completely about it, but was now eager to open it.

 

After grabbing a hammer, he was able to break the lock on the front. Inside were documents and papers of every kind, including a journal. Tacitus picked it up, opening the cover, and read.

 

Captain's Log- Corelas

 

We left Dusk early this morning, sailing over fairly calm waters. My crew, if you can call them mine, is continually lost. With the Thalmor impressing all the veteran sailors into the navy, I'm stuck with younger and younger sailors. One of them even fell of the boat yesterday, and we had to rope him in. I fear for them if the "Mer-eating" Imperials find us.

 

**

 

The cutter's captain met with me today. If ever a ship commander believed he could single handedly stop the Empire, surely it was that one. He raved on and on about our "naval superiority" and how he was going to defend us if we ran into an armada. When I asked him why several merchant ships had been lost already, he claimed it was tropical storms or "monsters of the deep." When I asked him about those last lines, he became really pale and said, "I've seen things you wouldn't believe boy," and then hurried back to his ship.

 

Tacitus stopped right there and tried to recall himself ever seeing any strange sights, besides random lights on the water most men called sea fairies. The scholars back in the Imperial City said they were either shiny types of fish or illusions of our lamps shining back at us. Most men thought instead they were people, just like us, who swam under the water with their own lamps. Some sailors even claimed they had fish tails, but most just laughed and went on.

 

Tacitus shook his head at the thought of swimming fish-people with lamps and went back to reading.

 

A small squall popped up in the night, so we detoured to the north slightly. Look out spotted a shark yesterday, a big monster that was about half the length of the cutter. Scary.

 

**

 

The men have been told to be on their guard as we near Senchal. Historically this has been pirate habitat, but now we have the Imps to deal with as well, so we must always be ready.

 

**

 

We outran some pirates yesterday, if only by stupidity on their part. Somehow, two of their ships collided, and they could be seen pointing towards the water. Don't know what that's about, but those Argonians are weird folk.

 

**

 

Imperials on the horizon. I'll try and outrun them, we don't stab a chance up close. If it comes to it, I'll tell the men to fight, but I fear for them.

 

I've changed into my sailors clothes, so they won't know I'm the captain. Hopefully they never will. Those rumors, even if they are Thalmor propaganda, are enough to make anyone worry, especially if what they do to captains is true.

 

The last entries were hastily written, the final one almost illegible. But Tacitus now knew the captain was aboard, and couldn't afford to waste the chance to talk to him. He left the book and went to the hold to find the prisoners.

 

The twelve Altmer sat huddled together, scared, obviously, and horrified at what might happen to them.

 

Tacitus approached the cell, blonde hair in a ponytail, vest and shirt disheveled, scruff covering his face. He looked nothing the part the Thalmor admirals did, prim and proper and all business.

 

"Which one of you is the captain? Corelas?" Tacitus asked, adding a bit of gruff too his voice.

 

No one said a word, but the Altmer captain twitched nervously while others glanced at him.

 

Clearing his throat, Corelas stood.

 

"I'm the captain, I'll come with you. Just don't hurt my crew, please."

 

Tacitus grabbed his cuffs and pulled the sailor out, then thrust him in front.

 

"Move," was all the admiral said, poking his captive with the toe of his boot.

 

The pair walked to Tacitus' quarters, every sailor who was at work eyeing them. They reached the cabin, where Tacitus thrust his prisoner in the chair.

 

Corelas quivered, literally shaking in his boots. His voice wavered as he spoke first, scared and hopeless.

 

"I...please don't hurt me. I was just shipping goods, you understand right?"

 

Tacitus dropped the scary admiral act and jumped on his bed. He kicked off his boots and stretched out, looking relaxed and comfortable.

 

"I'm not going to kill you, or your men for that matter. I'm not some evil Mer murdering monster, just a sailor like you. So, as long as you are honest with me, we won't have any problems. Understand?"

 

Corelas didn't trust the man, no matter what he said, but feared for his life and knew it best to just comply.

 

"Got it," he squeaked out.

 

"Good. Now, what is the situation in Alinor like, hmm?"

 

The question was broad, causing the Altmer to stumble a bit with his answer, but he spit it out.

 

"Sailors, they are taking all the good sailors and impressing them for the navy. And mages, whoever shows affinity for magic is forced to become a medic or battlemage."

 

"See, wasn't so hard, was it?" Tacitussaid condescendingly, not wanting the prisoner to become too comfortable.

 

"Any more information?"

 

"We, huh, the propaganda is more outrageous all the time. I usually now it's not true from what I hear in Elsweyr, but others hate you. The fanatical have gotten worse, and the purges in the other provinces are more frequent and harsher."

 

Tacitus took note of all the former captain said, knowing it would prove valuable to the Penitus Oculatus.

 

The Altmer suddenly stood up, but abruptly say down when Tacitus glared at him.

 

"Sorry, but I thought of something else. There are rumors they are sending the fleets after you, since you are becoming such a hassle. Some even say they are going to blockade the ports already. That's it though, all I know."

 

The Altmer sighed, hoping his information was enough to save him.

 

Tacitus rose, leading the Mer back below decks, but instead took him towards the rear of the vessel instead of the front, where a few other cells stood.

 

"You are going to stay here, alone, so your crew can imagine what exactly happened to you. See if any of them spill the beans. Have fun."

 

Tacitus left the awestruck merchant captain in his cell, hopefully to ponder on the Imperial's both generous and devious plan.

 

**

 

Tacitus stood outside the cell where the rest of the sailors slept, grabbing his mug of ale and sliding it along the bars to wake them up.

 

"Rise and shine sh*tfaces. Your captain unfortunately failed to comply with my wishes, and, if you ever wish to see the glorious sun reflect of your yellow skin, I suggest you don't follow his footsteps. They sadly lead right off the edge of the ship," Tacitus said grinning. Although he hadn't much liked interrogating individuals, he found playing mind games with the poor saps would be fun indeed.

 

Because of his threat, every captive sailor spilled their hearts out, some breaking down in tears. The trip back to Leyawiin flew by, and as he handed the sailors over to the PO agents, the shocked expressions when the men saw the captain, alive and decidedly not drowned, were priceless.

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Lorgar Grim-Maw, Lucienus, 

 

Imperial City

 

Evening,

 

 

Lorgar watched in silence the activity in the imperial city, looking at the civilians living there normal lives. He had once truly considered retiring and settling down with Milly, thinking back to it, Lorgar had laughed at the prospect of that, Normal life wasn't for him, killing was the only thing he excelled at, the thing he had done his entire life. Stopping now seemed impossible, settling down seemed impossible. Even being raised as a skaal by his uncle, the thing he looked forward to most was the next battle. 

 

 

Even after regaining myself, the only that fills me is the act of bloodshed. Violence is my virtue, as is death.

 

 

"I'm surprised you went through with it." 

 

 

Lorgar knew that dark, and somewhat mocking voice, he didn't even bother to turn his head around. "A wolf doesn't feel anything for the elk it kills does it?" The voice chuckled, "No it doesn't. Though I wonder what it would feel if it killed the niece of its closest friend?" Lorgar responded, "Nothing, The wolf merely defended itself. In fact it gave its prey a chance to live, in which it refused." The voice chucked again. From the shadows of the rooftop entered a man in a dark long coat, he had dark brown hair, which appeared almost black. His eyes were a sickly grey, and his skin was as pale as snow. Lorgar nodded at him, while the dark man knelt,

 

 

"My lord..."

 

 

"Luicenus." 

 

 

A twisted smile was on the ancient vampires lips, as he got up from his kneeling position. He walked toward his commanding officer carrying a large black longcoat, similar to his own. He said apologetically, “I put in an order for a custom-made armor set for you, young master, unfortunately it's not ready yet, I’m afraid you'll have to make due with a longcoat." Lorgar waved his hand, as he let the imperial put the black long coat onto him, which had a bloodwolf service badge attached to the left shoulder. Lorgar let out a slight sigh, as Lucienus stepped backward. The dark man smirked, as he said in a polite voice,

 


“Something troubling you?†Lorgar eyed him with his red orb of an eye, before shaking his head, “Nothing Captain. Give me a sitrep on our forces in the imperial city.†Lucienus nodded “All Bloodwolf personnel, except you and I, are heading to the muster point, including the three squads which you stationed here.â€

 

 

Lorgar simply said “goodâ€, as he began to slowly climb off the roof using a ladder, as his feet hit the ground, he noticed Lucienus standing a few paces away from him. Lorgar ignored that as he began to walk through the dreary streets, with Lucienus following close behind. The rain was falling down heavily, as the two men went through the market district. Lorgar asked his companion,

 

 

“What’s the situation in the White-gold?†Lucienus responded, “Empress Moitre has suffered two assassination attempts, during the second she was put into a coma.†Lorgar’s eye brows raised, “How did you come across this information?†Lucienus said quietly, as the rain fell onto his exposed head “I have sources, reliable ones.†He turned around as if to scan for any onlookers, “If the Elder council is wise, they’ll make there move now. Empress Dales is in a very vulnerable position.†Lorgar snorted, “I doubt any of them are aware. There most likely saying she’s merely ill.†Lucienus nodded, “No doubt. They’ll start becoming suspicious though, and it’s bound to leak to the public sooner or later. This will be looked down upon.â€

 

 

Lorgar’s steps were muffled under the sound of the pouring rain, “Not my problem and I care little. I own nothing to the empire, as I own nothing to that puppet.†He continued, “Regardless, I need to talk to you about Milly-â€

 

 

Lucienus interrupted him, “I’ve arranged passage for Lady Quentas to Raven rock on an East Empire Ship. Don’t worry; I made sure her living quarters were decent, if not luxury.†Lorgar responded “Excellentâ€. Lucienus yawed “I presume were picking her up right now?â€

 

 

“Correctâ€

 

 

 

Lorgar walked, with sound of rain in the background. The man silently muttered, "Cigar." Lucienus reached into his coat pocket, and drew out the tobacco filled product, but to Lorgar's dismay it was a cigarette, Lorgar groaned, as Lucienuis placed it in his mouth, and lightly conjured a speck of fire from his right hand, gently lighting the cigarette. Lorgar inhaled a long and deep breath of the fumes, Lucienus snorted, "You are aware of how bad those are for your lungs?" The nord shrugged in response, and countered by saying "Why are you carrying cigarettes?" Lucienus sighed in annoyance, "Cigars are too expensive, my lord, you'll have to make do with those from now on."  

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Balgruuf, Irileth, Jon

Noon

Castle Bruma

 

"Guardsman, come here, if you please," said the once Jarl of Whiterun. Even amongst Nords, in a place covered in snow, it couldn't be more apparent how out of place Count Balgruuf the Greater was in Castle Bruma. It was simply a way for him and Tullius to feel that he hadn't lost completely, not that he was in any real good terms with the now deceased Imperial General. It was a way to appease the small force of Nords who chose to stay with him. But a Nord knows a loss when he is dealt one. This was worse to him than simply being exiled.

 

"Yes sir, Count Bal-"

 

"It's Jarl. Jarl Balgruuf!" he protested.

 

"Er, right. Sorry. Jarl Balgruuf. What was it that you wanted, sir?" asked the guard.

 

"Have Irileth come see me. I'm waiting on a report on this General from her. She was sent on scout duty outside of the city and should have intercepted a courier by now. Move! Time is of the essence," said Balgruuf. The guard immediately ran off to do Balgruuf's bidding.

 

***

 

"Move it, move it!"

 

Jon shouted at the group. The Bruma was close, too close for his liking, but he needed to inform Hayn one way or another. If anyone deserved to be given a chance to live, it was him. Looking in the faces of his men, he saw that many of them turned their eyes away from him. He deserved as much. He was the one who brought this on them, thinking he'd find a much needed sympathizer in Miss Bathory. But instead she decided to support the pretenders of the Ruby Throne. Talos would have had their heads, if he hadn't left this world.

 

"To arms!"

 

As a few figures approached them from the flank, dressed in Legion armor, his men drew their weapons.

 

"Halt!" Hard-Heart had to shout at the top of his voice. It was Hayn, and two others he presumed to be from his guard. He couldn't see their faces under the thick fur hoods. "Hayn! You're not imprisoned?"

 

"I take it you failed then," Hayn didn't show any emotions and he walked up to him and shook his hand. He just stared at the White-Gold Tower in the distance. "Shame, but it was expected. Too many variables. Too many secrets and shadows. No place for the likes of us, Imperial Politics."

 

"Yes, I failed. And Tullius is dead because of me. We're moving to Pale Pass, in hopes that the Stormcloaks will accept what remains of our forces into their ranks. Or become mercenaries. Former Legionnaires seem to be in high demand," Jon gave Hayn a quick smile, but grew serious. "I don't know their fates, but I've lost a good deal of my men already. If we can avoid hostilities with Bruma, I think we can make it to the Pass. If not, I hope they are wrong about Sovngarde only being for my people. It would be good seeing you again in the next life."

 

"You'll die before you surrender?"

 

"I bowed to one pretender on the Ruby Throne in my youth, but never again. The only King I'll honor now is the High King of Skyrim. Far from the White-Gold Tower, no Dragonborn Emperor is needed for the High Throne of the Nords."

 

***

Irileth and a small detachment of Bruma guard had just come through the southern gate of the city and were climbing the hill towards the palace when the messenger met them.

 

"Did he think I was sitting around in the tavern," the Dunmer grumbled as she heard Balgruuf's summons. She was in a testy mood. Not that this was unusual. "You men return to your duties. I need to report to the jarl at once."

 

She proceeded on alone to the county hall and strode up to Balgruuf's chair, snow still clinging to her cloak and copper-colored hair. "My lord, I'm here to report. I intercepted the courier we were warned about, and sent him on his way. Then we followed him, and a good thing, too, since he wasn't alone. There are about three hundred or so armed men coming up the Silver Road, some in legion armor but with no colors. What are your orders?"

 

"Three hundred?" Balgruuf sighed and put his chin on his fist as his other hand tapped the arm in his chair. "I told the White-Gold they should have sent more men! We only have seventy five guardsmen for the city. Then the Imperial legion only sent us one hundred fifty when this Jon man started raising trouble. Where is the Legion? Jon had more men last I heard. Did he leave men behind to hold them back while he retreated?"

 

"I don't know, but if these malcontents attack us, it will be the last thing they ever do. Shall I send archers to the walls?"

 

"No, they won't make a move for the city. They can't take Bruma with three hundred men. Not with these walls. Any General worth his salt would know that." Balgruuf stood up out of his chair and started to pace. "No, if he wanted Bruma, he'd have done what Ulfric did and deliver an ultimatum. Ulfric....seems like no matter where I go, I'm forced to deal with rebelling Nords."

 

"The Nords have always made trouble, my lord, just not for the empire," Irileth pointed out dryly. "They can't take the city, but we must be alert to sabotage from within. We don't know if this general has supporters in Bruma already."

 

"What can he really do? Before, he was a threat when he first came here with an army under his control, but now? He's coming near my city with only three hundred men? If you ask me, I don't think he's got Bruma under concern." Balgruuf walked back to his chair and stood in front of it. He ran a hand over it, looking at the Cyrodiilic design and once again cursing the gods for putting him here. The chair's fabric was Bruma yellow, similar to Whiterun's guard colors. Fitting, but still not Whiterun. Something in his mind constantly and something he'd never forget.

 

"If you ask me, I say he's trying to get to the Pass. It's the only reason why he'd still be coming here with so few men. He'd have to know I wouldn't be convinced to join his side with such a small force. And we know the Legion was sent after him. This is an act of desperation. So really, it's no longer Bruma's problem and therefore not mine. But...."

 

***

"Hayn, Hard-Heart wants to see you."

 

Jon had sent one of his soldiers to the rear guard. An hour or so had passed since Hayn returned to the group and they neared Bruma with each step. Sooner or later, they'd have to pass by the city walls. Before long the familiar disfigured face was besides him.

 

"I need you to return to the city, with a message. If need be, I'll be willing to meet with the Count to establish that I'm not interested in Bruma as of now."

 

"Yes, Sir."

 

The Imperial nodded, but didn't otherwise look at him. Something new was in his tone, but he couldn't place what it was.

 

***

 

"Then let Ulfric Stormcloak deal with them." The Dunmer spat out the name." He ought to be pleased with more trouble for the empire."

 

"No, Irileth! We can't just let him walk by. We do that and we'll be sending a message to everyone in the Empire and beyond that you can just rebel any time you want and get away with it. Skyrim was bad enough. But if we let Jon's men get away, it'll be worse. The Thalmor could get wind of it and see just how bad things are starting to get around here." Balgruuf turned around now and faced his loyal House Carl. "We don't want more trouble for the Empire. Trouble for the Empire is trouble for us. So, it's up to us to do something about it."

 

The Dunmer drew an impatient sigh. "You said yourself we don't have enough men except to defend the city. You aren't thinking of going out there, are you?"

 

"We don't, true. Not in a head on confrontation. But we won't fight them head on. The Legion sent us men and I intend to use them. I want you to to send the word around the city. All those who once called themselves Sons of Whiterun are to take up militia duties once again and guard the city. In the meantime, I will take Seventy of our guard up to the path to Dragonclaw Rock. I'll see if I can't get this man to stand down. He outnumbers us, but he'll have to go uphill. While I'm there, you have the other Legion soldiers waiting on standby and you watch on horseback from a distance. If he doesn't listen, you give the order to send our soldiers in from behind. Maybe we get lucky and the rest of the Legion catches up. If not, we'll force his men to surrender with what we have."

 

"My lord, you should let me handle this. With Cyrodiil in such chaos, we can't afford to lose you."

 

Balgruuf stubbornly shook his head and said, "I think you already know what my answer to that is. If there's any hope of convincing this Jon to stand down, it needs to be man to man, Nord to Nord. Now go, before we miss our chance to act." Irileth scowled, especially at the notion that a Dunmer woman might not be as effective in negotiation, but she knew he was right.

 

"Exiled and a treaty in place and we are still dealing with rebellious Nords.  Very well, my jarl. I will do as you say." She hurried off to carry out his commands, giving orders to the castle guard to protect Balgruuf with their lives.

 

***

 

"Hayn?"

 

Jon looked at the figure that approached them. It was too soon for him to return, and he was followed by someone else. They seemed to know each other. Why was he back already?

 

"Jon! We're walking into an ambush!"

 

"What!?"

 

Hayn and the stranger came closer, heavy of breath. The stranger looked like a hunter of sorts, and was somehow familiar to him. Where had he seen him before?

 

"Tell him what you saw," Hayn looked at the hunter.

 

"Yes, sir... um," the hunter looked nervous for a moment, looking at the commander of the forces. "I saw Legionnaires move north, along the road... um... I was just about to return from the hunt when I came across Hayn here and... well... I thought I owed you that much..."

 

"You owed us?" Jon stared into his eyes, trying to place where he had seen the man before.

 

"Yes, sir... um... you let me stay in your camp in the mountains, when the Justicars came lookin' for me. I figured I owed you for saving my life."

 

Of course, he remembered the man now. Talos worshiper, escaped by the hair from the Thalmor, but with nowhere to go. Jon nodded and looked to the mountains in the north.

 

"I'm assuming the stone monolit before Pale Pass. The best place for an ambush in these parts, but very close to the Skyrim border. Balgruuf must be desperate to stop us. But there is nothing e can do about that ambush now. Our path has been chosen. Spread the word, that we must be prepared for an attack from the flanks as soon as we near the monolit. From there we move slowly and with as much caution as we can."

 

***

 

Balgruuf was fast approaching the famous Dragonclaw land mark, with only his guard at his back. He was thinking now, that maybe he should have mixed the units with Legion, since Jon would likely know they had some. It may lead him to smelling the ambush. Although, he figured he'd probably somehow suspect one anyway. Once the seventy guardsmen got in place, Balgruuf turned to see their faces. Most were uneasy looking, as they got the gyst of the situation. Balgruuf was sure part of it was because he was leading them, and he was no general. That and he hadn't fought in some time. Not while leading men. The Falkreath fight hadn't required much of that from him. Balgruuf laughed to himself, recalling stories from the soldiers who said he fought with two greatswords when he was really just carrying one as spoils of war back to the camp.

 

He carried with him now a steel sword and shield to go with his old steel plate armor. The same one Ulfric and his cronies defeated him in and took away his honor. Balgruuf wondered now if he was truly doing this for the good of Bruma and the Empire, or was he doing this to somehow in his mind get back at Ulfric in the closest way he could...

 

***

Drawing nearer Dragonclaw Rock, Jon let out a laugh. From the look of it, none other than the Count himself had shown up. And if the Count himself showed up at this time, the attack wouldn't start before they had shared words. To his left, Hayn started to laugh as well, followed by the other officers. The deep roaring of laughter from the informal leader of the Orcish troops he had left drummed in his ears. For the guardsmen, it must have been a sight that induced both fear and hope. Fear for going up against the many Legion veterans before them, and hope that they thought the ambush hadn't been detected. Jon's group continued to advance on their positions, reorganizing itself. The group of Orcs left, maybe 15 or so, centered itself around Jon.

 

"Remember," said Garak, the Orc leader, to Jon. "An Orc follows the strong and those are followed to the death. Malacath will be pleased with the ones following you, dead or alive."

 

"It is a shame Sovngarde is not open to your kind, Garak, I would have been honored to see you there."

 

"And a shame Malacath wouldn't allow you to us!"

 

The group countinued to near Balgruuf and his men, eventually stopping maybe fifty meters or so in front of them, positioning themselves to prepare for an attack from any side. Jon walked a few meters out from the group, hoping it would give Balgruuf the signal that he was willing to talk. Balgruuf didn't change his facial expression when he heard the laughter. Neither had his men.

 

As Balgruuf stood in front of his men, suddenly Balgruuf shouted so Jon could hear, "You know what's the real joke is that you think you're getting past that border." Jon just rubbed the ridge of his nose at the comment Balgruuf made, waving for the Count to walk out to him, and the the laughter started to die down, and murmuring started to take its place. Questions about the Count being a coward was one of the things Jon did hear, from where he stood. Irileth sat ahorse on a cliff overlooking the rebel troops' flank. Most of her men were concealed in the rocks behind her, though she had set a few of their archers and battlemages on the cliffs. At the laughter, she shook her head.

 

"Damn arrogant bastards. No wonder the empire discarded these." She kept her eye on Balgruuf's banner and the jarl himself. Anyone made a move to strike at him, and they'd be the first to go down.

 

"Well?" asked Balgruuf. "Do you wish to speak or not?"

 

"Not with all your guards around," Jon shouted at him, rolling his eyes. "Come out and meet be in the middle, like any reasonably civilized man would. Don't want your men to tell the story of how you couldn't even muster the courage to do that, do you?" The voices carrying up to her on the cliff, Irileth shook her head again and grumbled about Nord stubbornness, then ordered the archers near her to ready arrows and take aim at Jon and the orc who appeared to be his second.

 

"No one fire unless on my orders," she said sternly.

 

"Why? You and all the rest can hear me just fine. Or is it that you don't want your men to hear what I have to say?" Now Balgruuf did step forward, but not close to Jon, just enough to be clearly seen. He kept his shield hand ready to raise in case someone tried anything. "Why do you men fight?" Jon rolled his eyes again and walked out to the middle, where he had requested Balgruuf to meet him. Again he shouted.

 

"Why are you afraid to show common civility?"

 

Balgruff shook his head and said, "I asked you a question. Why are you and your men fighting? I have words with all of you, not just you. So address me in front of your men! Is it because you seeked power? Is that it? Or is it that you were just upset that a twenty year old girl in pink frills did something that you yourself did not? You think you're special for not fighting? Think that the Nords of Skyrim will give a damn that you hid on some mountain while others waged war?"

 

"I think I'd like to do this conversation without having to shout everything I say, but if you want to address me in front of my men, I can order them to come closer. But perhaps you should think about what I have to say that might not be good for your own troops to hear, before you jump to conclusions."

 

"What, is the cold air too much for you? Too hard on your lungs to speak out? Fine, since your commander won't answer my questions, then how about you?" Balgruuf started pointing his finger to the soldiers behind Jon. "Or you perhaps? Why are you fighting? I can't speak of the Orcs and other races among you, but the Nords...when you die and go to Sovngarde, what will you tell Ysgramor when he asks what you fought for? To help a General sate his ego? Is that something you can boast about? For eternity? Stand down and live to face the true enemy. The Thalmor!"

 

"I don't think you're going to get more of an answer from them, Count. These people, as I, don't find your insults anything more than humorous, given its source. Risking the guardsmen of the city, just to sate your own vanity and anger about being driven from Whiterun. At least my men know why they are here and have followed me willingly." Garak and the other orcs started to move up to Jon, weapons sheathed to signal that they didn't intend to attack, just walk up to their commander. Hayn stayed behind, continuing to make sure their shield wall was ready for deployment if it came to it. Luckily a lot of Jon's troops wore the heavy uniform.

 

Balgruuf said, "You can have the pot call the kettle black all you wish, but I don't think your men do know why they are fighting. Not really. I don't know what lies you've told them or yourself, but whatever the case may be, this is a hopeless endeavor. You used to have much more men than this. Where are they now? I suspect the Legion took care of most, right? I'd guess that they're on their way as we speak. You don't know the current politics as they stand, but I do. Skyrim is not letting large bodies of soldiers over their borders. Even if you disarmed yourselves, they'd have to send word to Ulfric first. Even if he said yes, your men won't get the go ahead in time. By then...you'll already be dead. At best, you'd get one man over while the rest are left to die for no reason whatsoever!"

 

As the orcs began to move, Irileth considered having an archer fire a warning shot, but decided against it. The stand-off was too tense, and she had seen before how such things could get out of hand. They must know they were covered anyway. For now, she watched and listened.

 

"Then I'm wondering why you are out here, throwing away the lives of your own men for a pointless exercise of trying to balm your wounded pride," Garak shouted. "If fighting the Thalmor is so important to you, you wouldn't be out here risking your own life. This is about you and only about you."

 

Jon threw a glance at the orc, but didn't comment on what he had said. Instead he addressed Balgruuf again. "If you think the true enemy is the Thalmor, you're better off letting us pass. Fighting us won't do anyone any good. More likely, we'd both die in the fight, and so would most people here, even the ones hiding."

 

Balgruuf paused for a moment, then looked around to his men. After a few moments, he cursed, then started to pase forward to Jon's position. "Sir, what are you doing?" said one of the guards.

 

"Stand down and stay where you are!" Balgruuf shouted. As he walked towards Jon by himself, he sheathed his sword and continued to speak, stopping just close enough to see his eyes, but far enough not to be within striking range. If he needed to run, he could. Irileth's arrows would be enough to allow him to get back to his men. "I am out here risking my neck and men's lives, because I wish to prevent bloodshed, not cause it. I want you to stop this madness, and reconsider. Look at what this is all doing. It's only making us weaker for the Thalmor and its for no good reason at all. Skyrim is independent, Cyrodiil is allied, and we're trying to focus on the Thalmor. We need all hands on deck for this war! Please, don't let this...foolishness be your legacy. Ulfric was a rebel, but he was a rebel with a plan and a cause. You have neither."

 

"Bah," before Jon could say something, Garak spoke again. "You just want to make up for your past mistakes with what you do here, because you don't want your own legacy to be that of the leader who never made a decision before he was forced to. You talk of not wasting men, but here you are, wasting them on your own vanity. For your own sake, I hope you never have to see Sovngarde, knowing that you have to justify your weakness and indecisiveness at Whiterun and the foolishness you show now to your ancestors!"

 

Jon threw another glance at the orc, looking a bit surprised at him, before taking his turn to respond to Balgruuf. "If you think so, you're as blind as they say you were. I had hoped that the stories they told about you were false, but apparently they weren't all false at least. Tell me, did you side against Ulfric because you were at odds with him? I don't know the specifics, but I've heard rumors of him being trained by the Greybeards were a part of it."

 

He paused for a moment, but didn't allow him to answer before he continued. "The White-Gold is failing, through centuries of inaction and allowing pretenders on the Ruby Throne. I'm a general and a warrior, but not uneducated on history. I returned to the city to try to do something about it, and I failed. So now I'm going to one of the only people left worth following. If you want to prevent bloodshed, you'll stand down and let me pass, for I'll be damned before I put my trust in the White-Gold again."

 

"I'll be honest with you, Jon. When I marched my men up there to meet you, those same questions came into my head as well. I wondered myself if I was just trying to save face, but you know what? If I were in that same position, I'd do exactly what I did before. I may not have let the legion in my city, but I deployed guards to fight Ulfric's men. I made a choice. My biggest mistake was saying I didn't take a side when I know good and well I did. That's my mistake, and I can't take it back. Perhaps if I fully committed sooner, I wouldn't be here having this conversation with you. But what matters is in the end I did make a stand. Just as I am doing now.

 

The White-Gold is in rough shape, and has been for a while, but rebelling against it when you had no real chance of changing anything isn't helping anyone. Neither is this. If I let you pass, all that would happen is you would be slaughtered at that Skyrim border wall. If you surrender, you have a chance to help us. You wonder why I am standing here with my men ready to risk their lives? To be honest, its because I'm not entirely sure the Legion is coming. And if not, then it's up to me to stop you and send a message to any other would be rebellers. Just stand down, and let your men do some good. This is the last time I'll ask."

 

"Then you'll better run, little man," Garak, again, took the word before Jon did. Talkative fella that one, Jon had to admit. Much more than most Orcs he knew. "Because fighting for the White-Gold isn't something I'd place on the list of doing good. If you won't stand down, you'd better have an answer for your ancestors."

 

"Garak is right, I fear," Jon continued, calmly to let Balgruuf know that he wouldn't attack before necessary. "Supporting the Empire doesn't do any good. It is time it was allowed to follow their True Emperors to the afterlife. This... necromantic continuation has gone on long enough and isn't doing anyone any good, least of all Cyrodiil. So let me pass, or draw your blade. We might lose this fight, with your ambush and all, but not before we overwhelm your entourage. Is this really worth dying for? A crumbling Empire, not even worthy of such a name?"

 

Three of the Orcs started to walk back to the others. They knew what they had to do; pass on to Hayn that if it came to fighting, their main objective was to storm the count's guards, preferably managing to take him a hostage to make the ambush stop. If it was led by his Housecarl, she'd have to allow them to leave or fail her duties to protect him. If.

 

"Heh, think it will be that easy, do you? There's a reason we took our spot up hill. My other men will have time to group up with me. But you're right. You will lose. It isn't the White Gold we fight for. It's the people of Tamriel. If the Empire falls, it won't be because of the Thalmor." Now that the words were exchanged, and everything was said that needed to be said, Balgruuf walked back the way he came.

 

From their position on the ridge, Irileth's captain muttered aside, "Are you hearing this, Irileth?"

 

"Yes," the Dunmer answered drily. "Defeatist nonsense. They won't fight for the empire, but won't fight against them either. No wonder they ran to the mountains and hid while the rest of us stood up to Ulfric."

 

The captain shifted, reset his arrow and took aim again. "Just say the word, Housecarl."

 

"Not yet. But when you fire, aim for that loudmouth orc first."

 

Well, no one can say I didn't try for peace. At this point, these men are simply fighting to save face. Heh, I'm still not convinced neither am I. One way or another, I won't have people saying I didn't do my part to quell another rebellion. Especially one with no cause.

 

Once Balgruuf was satisfied that Jon and his men weren't going to surrender, Balgruuf started to make preparations. "Wedge!" he called out. The men immediately organized into a wedge shape, one, to better repel Jon's men as they came, and so that the men on the sides could act as a new front line to charge to the left or right in case they needed to run to a different location. Jon's men immediately charged forward with his order, so that they wouldn't be too prepared for their advance. As promised, they made a mad dash straight for them to try and overtake the group quickly. As they ran towards them, kicking up snow, Balgruuf gave a loud whistle, giving Irileth her signal to fire.

 

"Fire!" Irileth called, even before the whistle. The writing had been on the wall, and she didn't want even the remotest chance that a stray arrow would hit Balgruuf because they waited too long.

 

The first volley sailed down the canyon, cutting into the ranks of the orcs and the first line surrounding Jon. They may have been heavily armored, but the longbowmen were fitted for that, and their first volley was of high-quality glass, ebony and even dragonbone arrows. Irileth had known that they would have a small window to do a lot of damage and demoralize the rebels.

 

She didn't wait to see what the damage was, already wheeling her horse around to charge down into the flank with her infantry. The captain would command the archers and battlemages on the cliffs. The latter began raining fireballs and shock spells down on the troops massed in the path.

 

As always, the way things happen in battle so quickly always surprised Balgruuf. He didn't even have time to think before the arrows on Jon's men started raining. Some of them raised their shields, but Balgruuf's men along with him charged down the hill, making them choose between arrows or swords. Balgruuf saw an arrow hit Jon's neck, but it went down through the shoulder. It made him stumble, and made the initial charge less forceful, especially since they had to go uphill in snow, but Jon gave the command for them to keep fighting. Now it was Balgruuf's men who were fighting to get to him, and Jon's men were the ones fighting to protect.

 

Balgruuf was breathing heavily as he struggled to push back an orc, their breaths colliding heavily with each other in their faces. Balgruuf's Nord blood made it easier to exert himself in the cold, but the Orc had natural fortitude and was of a younger age. Still, the orc was no match for Balgruuf's heavy weight from uphill falling on the Orc's knee when he kicked downwards with his steel plated foot. The Orc stumbled back, only to be replaced with another one, who protected his injured friend, only to receive a blade on his face from one of Balgruuf's men next to him.

 

Eventually the rebel forces were pushed back, and they were forced to drag Jon back and form a circle around him. But not before trying to surround Balgruuf's smaller force and trap him. Balgruuf saw the red line in the snow leading to Jon, but he couldn't let himself be trapped. "Right side, form the new front line! Push our way to Irileth!"

 

Irileth and her troops slammed into the flank, and Nord war cries sounded out on both sides as the men met in a roil of battle. Above her the archers were forced to slow their fire to aim more carefully as the two forces mixed.

 

From her horse, the Dunmer housecarl slashed down with sword, cutting away men on either side of her as she fought her way towards Balgruuf. The rear guard would take care of itself, and she was desperate to get to the jarl and fight beside him even if it was for one last time. The heavy-armored front guard of Jon's men stood in her way. Pulling her horse around, she sheathed her sword and began casting lightning spells into their backs.

 

On the cliffs above, the captain commanding the archers saw movement in the cliffs across the valley. Concerned that there might have been rebels hiding in the hills, he pulled out a spyglass to see what they were about. "Those are Sons of Whiterun," he shouted. "Sons of Whiterun on the other side of the path, don't fire on them." Some of them had apparently disobeyed orders to stay behind in the city, unwilling to leave Balgruuf's side in a fight. They had all survived together in the Skyrim wilderness too long. The captain watched through his glass, and laughed when he realized what they were doing.

 

Balgruuf had further to go, now being on the side flank instead of the front, to fight their way to the main force. While they were fighting through, a rebel Nord caught him on his shoulder with a steel hammer, denting his shoulder plate and possibly breaking a bone in the process. When that happened, his men quickly flooded in to push them back, and Balgruuf out of anger rushed forward and slashed his attacker across the face before his men forcibly pulled him away. During that tussle, Balgruuf saw Irileth stubbornly fighting her way through the men and casting lightning. He wondered if she cast a calm spell on the horse or something to get it to push through that way, but whatever the case was, it was as stubborn as she was.

 

Her body standing over the others gave them a destination to fight to, but it also gave the enemy a target. Before he had a chance to call out her name, he suddenly heard a loud thunderous noise and rumbling come from his left. From the cliffs, he saw large snow covered boulders tumbling their way into Jon's ranks from behind. He heard calls of the Sons of Whiterun echo from beyond, and his guards cheered as they watched Jon's rear get flattened.

 

Irileth had been so focused on getting through to Balgruuf that her luck ran out. An orc fighter saw his chance and charged her horse from behind, slashing at her leg with his axe. In one confused moment there was a crash of boulders into the rear, the horse reared and leaped forward, and the Dunmer housecarl fell into a press of shouting men.

 

Some of her own men seeing her go down rushed forward to try to reach her, but she had advanced too far and there were too many enemies in between.

 

A moment later, Irileth re-appeared again, her rage causing her to fall into her native idioms. "FILTHY N'WAH!" she shouted, sword in one hand and shock spells still coursing out from the other. Blood oozed down her leg and from a gash in her head from the fall, but she ignored it until her opponent and several of his friends nearby were dead.

 

Then the housecarl's long experience of battle re-asserted itself and she paused to assess what was happening. Balgruuf was still on his feet up on the slope, but the rebellious general and the orc leader were not. The avalanche had caused confusion in the rear.  Men were still fighting for their lives, but there was no fire in it. Across the narrow valley there was a hesitation like a sigh.

 

Recognizing the moment for what it was, Irileth cast an alteration spell to carry her voice and began shouting. "Followers of Jon Hard-Heart!  Your leader is dead!" The housecarl didn't actually know if Hard-Heart was dead, but she was a Dunmer and had no qualms using deception at a decisive moment in a battle. "Lay down your weapons and your lives will be spared! Why are you fighting? You are Nords, brothers! Lay down your weapons and live to fight your real enemy!"

 

Breath held, she paused to see if her words were having any effect.

 

Jon was on the ground, barely alive, but alive enough to hear Irileth's words. He tried to speak up, but the combination of the wound and the chaos of the fight, kept him from being heard. When the others heard her, some of the rebels ceased in their attacking, although a few continued. Without Jon to tell them otherwise, a lot of them took Irileth's words to be true. The effect was that some of the men dropped their weapons and stepped away from the fighting, while others continued on. Balgruuf's men pushed them back along with the Legion soldiers. Some of Jon's men dropped their weapons again, finally losing their stubborn attitudes while others were needlessly slaughtered. It was now that Jon opened his eyes, hearing failing as he looked up to watch the snow fall on his face, contemplating what indeed would he tell Ysgramor when he went to Sovngarde and was asked why he fought, when Thalmor threatened his ancient land.

 

Before he could think of the rebuttal, which in his mind he knew was as weak as he claimed the Empire's leaders were, a wave of Legion and Bruma soldiers started running across his vision. They were charging, unaware that he was there. A few men stepped over him, and he wondered if they'd ever recognize it was him. As thoughts of escape to the border ran through his head, a Bruma soldier finally looked down on him, his expression surprised, then soon turned to anger as he realized who he was. No more than a few seconds passed from him fantasizing of escape before a standard issue Cyrodiil styled steel blade sunk into his neck to make Irileth's words true, finally ending Jon and his rebellion for good.

 

Eventually, Balgruuf's soldiers slaughtered the last of the men who still fought. A fourth of Jon's men had given up, while the rest were killed. Balgruuf lost almost half of his guard and thirty legionnaires. But the battle was over, as quickly as it started. Smiling now, Balgruuf took a knee, then fell on his side, as his adrenaline left him to the pain in his left shoulder.

 

Seeing men still fighting, Irileth cursed Nord stubbornness once again and resumed her determination to get to Balgruuf's side. She was wounded, but so were a lot of the enemies she passed, and some of them threw down their weapons at first taste of her shock spell.

 

At last she found the jarl, down and gasping in pain, but alive. Her own adrenaline still coursing, she knelt beside him. "My lord... are you... well..."

 

Before he could answer, another sound echoed against the mountainsides, carried on the harsh Jeralls winds- the sound of legion trumpets coming up from the south. Irileth looked up at the sound. "Finally."  That was the only word she could manage, but the meaning was clear.  Reinforcements from the Imperial City had arrived, too late to do anything but mop up.

 

"Well, that seems to be the norm...as of late," he said, referring to their tardiness of course. Balgruuf forced himself to stand, leaving his weapons on the ground while he tried to get his dented armor piece from his shoulder. Two of his men came up to assist, but he shooed them off, so he could do it himself. Balgruuf waited for the Legion to finally reach their position. A female General was in the front, trying to look tough from the look of her, which wasn't that hard from the size of her.

 

"These men have surrendered. They're all that remains of Jon's men," said Balgruuf.

 

"Who gave you orders to interfere?" she asked.

 

"I did, since you people took your sweet time getting here. I don't know whether the Stormcloaks would have really let him over or not, but my men's actions made sure that question never needed answering."

 

"Hmph, you risked your life for nothing. We'd have caught up and ended him just fine."

 

"Really? If he reached the cave leading to Pale Pass, I doubt it. His men can hold you back in there for days. Meanwhile, he'd already be in Skyrim. In any case, he's dead. I need some of your men for my city until I replace them with new guards. And I'll need your help bringing in our dead whilst my men recover. Is that going to be a problem?"

 

"No," she said, clearly not happy having to take orders from Balgruuf. But she had to admit he was right.

 

"What are you going to do with the prisoners?" he asked. "Let them go to Skyrim?"

 

"After all this, they're lucky we don't send them to the block. Instead, they'll be forced to rejoin the Legion and split up. That's that." Balgruuf looked back to Jon's men, who now looked lost. He shook his head then nodded to the General before walking off.

 

"Alright, Bruma guards, back to the city. Irileth, lets go."

 

"Yes, my jarl." The Dunmer limped along behind him. When one of the guards offered his arm, she hesitated but grudgingly accepted his help. Balgruuf and the men walked back to the city in silence, until finally, they reached the city gates. As the men walked to either the guard barracks or the infirmary, Balgruuf ordered the soldier helping Irileth to go.

 

"Go rest with the others. I'll take her to the infirmary."

 

"Sir, aren't you injured too?"

 

"I'm better off than her. Now go." As the man walked off reluctantly, Balgruuf looped one of the Dunmer's arms around his shoulder on the uninjured side and continued their walk through the city to the castle. "What the hell were you thinking back there, Irileth?"

 

"Thinking I needed to save your ass," she answered, wincing.

 

"Heh, well it's like I always tell you. I had everything under control. Sometimes I wonder if you think I'm the same age as my children," he said.

 

"Long habit." They had reached the infirmary, where more wounded were being brought in. "Just let me sit down. I can heal myself if I get a bit of rest. And heal you."

 

"Alright, you know where to find me. My shoulder can wait till then. In the mean time I have a city to run. And...thanks. Irileth. Not just for this, but for staying with me even after exile. You're a true friend." The Dunmer gave a grim smile.

 

"What else would I have to worry about?" She then turned and spoke sternly to the other guard that had accompanied them. "I expect you to keep a close eye on him while I'm mending."

 

Balgruuf saw as the guard's face grew stern and he saluted her before turning to him, staring intensely. He didn't know what sort of training she put the men through, but apparently when she gave the order to keep a close eye, she meant it. Balgruuf chuckled to himself lightly before turning to walk away. "Heal up soon, Irileth. That's an order."

 
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Lorgar Sky-Wind, Lucienus Valerius, Catia Ceno, 

Evening.

Imperial City, 

 

Lorgar opened the heavy oak door, and stepped inside Catia and Grahhus's relatively "luxurious" inn , with his vampire comrade close behind. With a flick of his wrist, Lucienus strange glowing purple eyes became a sickly grey color, while Lorgar closed his right. They didn't want to arouse suspicion. Both of the men wore almost identical uniforms, having a dark longcoat, along with a pair of black leather gloves. Lucienis quietly told Lorgar,

 

"I spotted five men on the rooftop near the fox, I think the Occultus is on to us." Lorgar swore, "****. Let's be done with this then." The two men went up to the counter, and Lucienus asked the girl in-charge in a polite voice, 

 

"Excuse me miss, we would very much like to speak to the owner, Catia Ceno. Tell her a friend of her husband is here."  

 

Ena looked up at the men, a chill going down her spine. Both men were decidedly creepy, especially with their strange eyes. One of them she somewhat recognized, in fact she was sure she knew him, even with the white hair and closed eye.

"Lorgar, is it? I don't think Catia would want to speak to a wanted man," Ena said, hands on her hips.

 

Lucienus gave the girl a bright smile, as he gently put his gloved hands behind his back, and unkown to everyone else, a faint green light started to shown on his palm, which soon traveled to the woman silently and almost invisible. Though he continued to speak politely, his voice betrayed a dose of annoyance and scorn,

 

"My dear, Colonel Grim-Maw is a very busy man, and has limited time. I do suggest you tell Catia a friend of her husband is here to see her, be a good lass now."

 

Ena's sarcastic gaze dropped, replaced by one of calm acceptance of the orders.

"Right this way gentlemen," she said cheerfully, leading the men up the stairs on the right.

The spell being cast didn't go completely unnoticed, as in the corner sat a very nondescript Bosmer, Filin the Fox's bard, dressed in simple peasant clothes but paying careful attention to Lorgar and Lucienus. Once the men traveled up the stairs, he dropped his septims on the table and exited quickly, eager to share his news.

 

"Sneaky." Lorgar muttered under his breath, and Luceinus gave him a mocking and sarcastic smile, "Well now, we didn't have to spill her blood out threw her neck, what an accomplishment, my lord." Lorgar dryly said "Don't joke like that." The girl lead the two men to Catia's office. 

 

Ena rapped on the door, which opened soon thereafter.

"Ena, who is," Catia looked up and saw Lorgar, shock and fear crossing her face. "You shouldn't be here, do you know how much danger you've put us all in? Hurry in here, before someone sees you, if they haven't already."

Catia led the men inside the office, while Ena, uncharacteristically cheerful, hummed her ways down the stairs.

 

Lucienus whispered, "i'll watch from the shadows", which caused Lorgar to nod his head. The vampire disappeared in a flash of darkness. Lorgar entered the innkeepers office,  before bowing his head. He spoke in a different tone than before, slightly warm, but controlled and calm,

 

"Forgive me for intruding Catia, I have little time to explain. First off, I offer my sincerest thank you for taking care of Millernius for me, i've come to relieve you of her. I'm sending her to a safe location, a remote island known as Solsthiem, you may know of it."

 

Catia sat down, massaging her left temple as the elbow on the same side arm rested on the chair's back.

"You're welcome," she said, no kindness in her voice. 

"Just hurry, and please leave as quickly as possible. If it's found out I helped you in any way, this could fall back on Gracchus. Please, just get your wife and go," Catia said frantically, losing the little patience she had

 

Before Lorgar could respond, Lucienus reappeared in the room, covered in blood with his sword drawn. He spoke in his usual, carefree voice,  "My lord. It seems some peasant has alerted the Occultus. There marching to the fox as we speak" He shrugged "I think there's fifteen of them...well...fourteen now." Lorgar lost his composure, 

"Fifteen?!" Lucienis gave a "Meh" face, while he carefully wiped the blood of his drawn blade with a hankerchief. Lorgar hurriedly. got up "We need to get out of here now, where's Milly?"Lucienus eyed the sword, taking off ever drip of crimson, "Well, that might be difficult on her own. She is pregnant, after all."

 

"Okay-WHAT?!!???" The nord practically yelled, his face filling with shock, he turned around to Catia, with a look of horror, "Millies pregnant?!" 

 

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you not get the memo while you were fleeing charges of treason with this vampiric lunatic?" Catia said, rising as her blood boiled. 

Pointing hard to her right, she said, "Next room over. Get her and leave. I wish you would let her stay and not drag her under with you, but she is your wife."

 

"Well that's nice of you-" Lorgar interrupted the "vampiric lunatic" in a harsh and commanding voice,  "Captain. Head over to the roofops and snipe them, hit and run tactics. Delay the bastards with arrowfire as long as possible." Lucienus, crisply bowed before his commanding officer, while saying, "Yes my lord.", disappearing in a flash of darkness. Lorgar suddenly became very serious as he walked up to Catia, "Empress Dales has just been nearly assassinated twice, and General Tullius just got his head lopped off." He took a sealed letter and handed it to Catia, "Give this to your husband, do not let anyone read this. I recommend getting out of the imperial city as soon as you can."  

 

"I'll relay the message. Any other advice?" she seethed.

In the tavern below, Filin had inconspicuously returned, completely unnoticed. He took up his flute and played a lighthearted jig, a few people even dancing, completely unaware of the trouble brewing over their heads.

 

"Yeah, watch your back." In a sprint of in-human speed, Lorgar had gotten behind Catia in an instant, grabbing her in a headlock, and gently forced down a liquid into her throat, "Dont struggle, this is for you and your husbands benefit."  

 

Catia had little time to react, only managing to kick over the chair in her panic. Before succumbing to the potion, she thought of Gracchus, his name forming on her lips as she slipped into unconsciousness. 

Awoken by the yells, Lyra, Gracchus' mother, hobbled across the hall, blanket draped over her stopped shoulders, and knocked on the door.

"Everything alright deary? I thought I heard yelling?"

 

Lorgar said, in a kind and soft voice, "Help, Catias collapsed" Lorgar gently picked her up in his arms and rushed forward to the door

 

Lyra didn't recognize the man, but seeing Catia's limo body spurred her to action.

"This way, into my room," she said, leading Lorgar to the room across from Milly's.

 

Lorgar had never seen this woman before,thankfully she had never seen lorgar, meaning she didn't know he was a wanted criminal.He followed the older woman to her room

 

"Place her on the bed, please, and I'll go get some water," Lyra said, leaving the room and going further down the hall to get a pail of water.

 

As the unknown woman left the room, lorgar gently layed catia's unconscious body on the spacious bed, and whispered into her ear, knowing she wasn't awake "I understand your fury, but heed my warning, the occultus wouldn't let you be unless I made you seem like a victim." And with that, he began to leave the room, opening the door which lead to the hallway

 

Several Penatus Oculatus agents suddenly burst up the stairs, right as Lyra came back with the pail of water.

"AHHHH!" she screamed, the men with swords scaring her witless. 

Her body became limo and fell to the ground, water spilling all over the floor as she did.

 

A spectral arrow came bursting forth from the window, onto the three man fire team, exploding In a ball of frost and ice freezing the area around and turning it and the men into a frozen barricade.

 

Lyra was unconscious, Catia unconscious, and Lorgar had a clean escape, once he grabbed his wife of course. He rushed forward and slammed the door to his wife's room open

 

***

 

Across from the window the arrow entered through, Lucienus was holding a massive conjured bow on a rooftop, with the weapons color being a pale blue. It was a custom-made spell, a gift from an old friend. Instead of normal spectral arrows, it fired explosive freezing arrows, very useful for situations were crowd control was needed. Near the fox's entrance, a dozen or so Pentiulas Occultus agents waited, for word from there fireteam. Normally the Occultus would deploy a small group of agents separate of the main force to see if the area was secured, and would enter in tight and formal formation. They were highly team reliant, and mainly light infantry. Which means Hit and run tactics would only work for a small amount of time. Lucienus got up from his crouched position, he had the advantage. He had the high ground, and the rain and lack of light meant the Occultus's vision was strained. As mentioned, there were around a dozen or so of them, who most likely already called for reinforcements. As powerful as the vampire assassin was, his style of fighting and tactics was best suited for one on one engagements, along with small groups. Meaning he had to be very careful.

 

Hit and Run tactics...arrowfire....so many opportunities. Small harassment should work.

 

With a flick of his wrist, he disappeared in a cloud of shadows and reappeared on nearby rooftop right above the squad of soldiers. He reached into his coat, and pulled out a small vial of some sort of fine powder. Lucienus gave a sadistic smile. From time to time, you could see wandering magicians and minstrels practicing there "magic" to unsuspecting children, such as conjuring a flash of light. This was simply a clever trick, made possible by a powder made from void salts combined with fire salts. It was flashy. In his hands, Lucienus held the same powder, except it was ten times as more concentrated as the magicians trick. With a slight smile, he dropped the vial containing the volatile material, and turned away while casting a simple spell to protect his eyes. In the second the vile dropped onto the soldiers, the darkness was consumed by bright and painful light,  and the area around was filled with screams. Many of the soldiers dropped to the ground, covering there eyes in pain and shock. Lucieuns laughed darkly,

 

Next step. Elimination.

 

The man disappeared from the rooftop. One of the agents , a muscular imperial had regained his eye sight but was still dazed, he lazily drew his Gladius while yelling out, "What in Oblivion." Unlike most of his comrades, he wasn't grounded. His eye sight spotted a dark figure inside the alleyway beside the accursed inn. He was smiling and waving at the man. The imperial furiously yelled, "Bastard", as he charged onward into the alleyway, ignoring his fallen comrades.  As he entered further and further into the darkness, he suddenly remembered his training. Never go anywhere alone. Before the man could run back to his group, a steel blade was sticking out of his stomach, and a gloved hand was on his mouth, muffling his screams. Lucienus let the body drop once it felt limp and cold. He disappeared and reappeared on another roof, this time drawing from his back a real, physical bow. It was as black as the abyss, long, and strangely didn't have an arrow string. It was a relic passed down in his family for countless generation. He had received it from his father's lifeless corpse. At that thought, Lucienus gave a sad smile,  before taking aim on the group, causing a bright flash of tang to lighten the dark. A spectral bowstring had formed, purple the very same color as Lucienus's true eyes, and a spectral arrow had taken it's place on the bow. 

 

Lorgar, hurry I can only cover you for so long. 

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Lorgar Grim-Maw, Milly Quentas, Witchie, Lucienus Valerius 

Imperial City,

Evening, 

 

Lorgar rushed forward, and kicked open the door into Millies room, in the background Lorgar could hear the sound of screams, Lucienus was holding them off. A single taskforce of Pentiulas Occultus soldiers usually consisted of twelve agents, but in a high class operation, two other taskteams were on standby near the area, in case the situation got out of hand. Meaning Captain Valerius could only hold his own for a limited time before being overwhelmed. 

 

Hold out a little longer Wraith 

 

The oak doorway opened in a bang, granting the nord entrance into his wife's room. It was very spacious and had expensive looking furniture, which Lorgar knew belonged to him and Milly. Milly must have moved quite a bit of their stuff into the room when she decided to stay at the fox. In the corner of the room, sitting on a writing desk, was Millernius Quentas. She was as petite as ever, as she lightly snored and drooled, with her splendid golden hair messily sprawled across her shoulders, which was unusual, since she prided herself for her lovely hair. Her pale skin matched the white/violet dress she was wearing, and her trademark large gold spectacles were set beside her on the table, neatly taken off. Though many people at court had sneered at her "mouse-like" appearance, and constantly made fun of her for it, Lorgar thought she was utterly adorable, both in her appearance and her wonderful personality.  This is the first time he had seen his wife in around a month, and all he wanted to do was embrace her,

 

Unfortunately I don't have much time.

 

The nord gently tapped her on the shoulder intent on waking her up. The woman stirred, before yawning tiredly and stretching out. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, and placed her spectacles on her face. She moved her head to see the person, who woke her up, while saying,

 

“Yes Catia-“

 

As she faced her husband, her eyes filled with shock and her voice trailed off. Lorgar smiled weakly, “Hey dear-“ Lorgar was interrupted by Milly, rushing forward and pulling the large nord into a massive bear hug, squeezing him tightly, she squealed,

 

“Lorgar!!!†Lorgar gently returned the hug, patting her back lightly, “It’s great to see you too honey.†They remained in the embrace for around twenty seconds, sharing each other’s warmth. Milly was smiling and words were forming in her mouth. Before she could speak, Lorgar interrupted her in a kind, but controlled voice,

 

“I’m sorry dear, but we don’t have much time. You need to pack, only essentials, right now.†Millies gaze grew dead serious, un-characteristic of her, before nodding her head. She ran forward to her dresser, and began to pack clothing. She spoke in her normal voice, but with a slight sense of seriousness in it,

 

“I assume you’re sending me somewhere?†Lorgar nodded his head, as he helped his wife put clothing in a pack. “Yes. To Solthsiem, you’ll be staying with my cousin Frea.†She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Is she aware I’m coming?†Lorgar chuckled slightly, “No. But I’ve written a letter of introduction for her. Trust me, Frea’s the type of person who would insist a non-hostile traveler to stay at the village for a few days, if she knows you’re my wife, and you’re pregnant, I’ll doubt she’ll ever let you leave her care†Milly asked another question, igoring the fact Lorgar knew she was with child “Frea would be at the place you grew up, the skaal village, correct? How will I find it-“ As Milly said that, a figure suddenly appeared inside the room, it was Captain Valerius. Though Milly was surprised, she wasn’t scarred. She knew this man.

 

“You…â€

 

Lucienus turned and gave the girl a bow, “Lady Quentas.†Smiling, he faced once again towards Lorgar, “Sir, two more taskforces have arrived, with reinforcements from the watch just around the corner. I’m afraid they’ll be here in several minutes. I held them off for as long as possible.†Lorgar swore loudly, as he handed Milly a bag, “Milly. I’ll meet you at the dock.†Before Milly could say anything, Lucienus said, with a worried look, “And what will you be doing?†Lorgar smirked, “My mansion contains sensitive information. I’m going to torch it.â€

 

Lucienus frowned, and protested, “My lord, we don’t have time-“ Lorgar shook his head, “I need to do this. Some of those documents could raise my warrant from five thousand septims, to over twenty.†Knowing it was useless to argue with a nord, Lucienus instead took out a large black bow, and threw it towards his commanding officer, “Use this sir.  It’s a family relic. It reacts to daedric blood. It’s similar to a conjured bow. You won’t need arrows to use it. I’ll deliver lady Quentas to a safe location, and then I’ll retrieve you from your mansion and watch from the shadows.†Lorgar grabbed the thrown bow, and scanned it while it was in his hands. Its beauty was undeniable, with its glossy black color, and delicate carvings.  Lucienus nodded his head, and saluted, which Lorgar returned. Before Milly could say anything, Lucienus grabbed her from behind, and in an instant both the vampire and imperial disappeared in a flash of shadow. Lorgar himself wasted no time jumping out of the window, and into the rainy streets below,

 

****

 
Lorgar walked through the hallways of his once proud estate, now a hallowed shell. Since Lorgar, and Milly left, the staff has abandoned it and let the cob webs and dust settle in.

 

Not prime estate anymore for sure. 

 

Lorgar was clad in the black longcoat Lucienus had provided him, along with the vampire's ancestral bow, which only reacted to beings with daedric blood and power flowing in their veins. Lorgar needed to double check on everything, destroy any sensitive documents and files, and see if he needed to fetch anything. Lucienus had said it was a waste of time, and a blunder, but Lorgar had to be sure. His footsteps were silenced and with care he approached his study. 

 

The study wasn't much different from the rest of house. A dusty desk and bookshelves. Some books were missing, probably taken by servants before they also abandoned the place. But something felt wrong about the room. Suddenly the door slammed behind him and was overgrown with a wall of ice spikes. A large section of the room where he was standing lit up with fiery glowing runes on the walls, floor and ceiling. The windows was also covered the same icy wall as the door.

 

"What do you even fight for?" And in front of him behind the desk was the court mage sitting. 

 

Lorgar's eye brows rose, as his stoic face adopted a frown. He couldn't break through that wall of ice, as well as the windows. Lorgar was trapped in his own study

 

That bastard's here. I should have known....

 

He drew his bow slightly, and let his power flow through it, causing a blood red spectral bowstring to appear on the dark weapon. He moved forward a few steps before responding in his normal voice,

 

"Does it matter what I fight for? That question I have asked myself so many times over the last year, with the answer changing each time I asked." 

 

The runes around him glowed brighter and a few even had small flames burst forth as Lorgar got closer. "You may want to take a few steps back and take your hand of your little bow. Unless you want to be turned to ash."

 

Lorgar, while lowering the bow slightly, kept it in his hands, as he moved four paces backwards, observing the exits, which were impossible to break through at this time

 

"Good boy." The wizard picked up a couple of shackles from under the table and put them on the desk.

 

Lorgar's eyes narrowed on the shackles, which he could tell were rune-forged, and were made of silver. 

 

****, I'm not going into those things

 

Lorgar had told his second to watch him from the rooftops, hopefully, Lucienus would arrive to assist him soon. For now, Lorgar had to stall by talking. He deadpanly muttered, "Didn't know you were into that sort of thing, mage." 

 

"I'm not really. But one of the maids is, also likes to bring a blindfold. But enough about that. Put these on and you receive a quick death." 

 

Lorgar's closed eye flashed sharpening, and the fury of Hircine filled his veins and thoughts, causing the red orb to glow even brighter, "Like how you gave a quick death to Tullius?" 

 

"He wanted to split what little that remained of the Empire. Such a traitor can't be allowed to live. Even you must understand that." 

 

"He deserved better than a Butcher's blade," Lorgar snarled angrily, his temper getting out of control. "He fought for the empire his entire life, everything he did was for the empire. And you reward him like that?!" Lorgar showed his fang-like teeth in anger, as his hand quenched into a fist.

 

I need...clarity...Tullius knew the consequences of his actions...he made his own choices and decisions, and it costed him his life. Still...he was my friend...my comrade...my brother...

 

Before he lost it, Lorgar took a deep breath of air, and cleansed his mind from the fury. He wouldn't be blinded. Calming down, he once again spoke in his normal stoic voice,

 

"And besides, I doubt he would want to follow a little girl like Dales. Two assassination attempts and she's already in a coma."

 

"She'll be up and walking in a couple of days." He paused for a second "And yet he followed Mede and his Thalmor acquaintances. He had lost his head, figuratively and the result was to lose it literally. You've also lost it, you attacked the Stormcloak generals. And for what?"

 

Lorgar's face once again showed little emotion, as his eye's glowing light began to recede, "I lost my way a long time ago, when I accepted a deal with a devil. What remains is a shell. Just like this mansion. My soul is forfeit to the hunting grounds. My blade, and threw my blood Hircine, compelled me to reap Baldur Red-Snow's life, as it did his with Wife Rebec Hull-Breaker, and his friend, Boldir Iron-Brow. Yet I still fight, because I made a promise. One which I intend to keep." He starred at the mage, his eye changing hues of red, “When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back. I've been staring at the abyss for quite some time now, and it has starred back at me. I have seen the night, the truth about this irredeemable world, and yet I will fight on regardless, and refuse to turn into a monster." He continued, " My uncle used to tell me I was good at reading people. What I see before me is man whose obsessed with power. A man who can’t even protect a little girl...who is the real monster, me or you?" 

 

The mage looked bored at Lorgar's little speech. "Well that depends on how you define monster." The shackles floated off the table and opened up in front of Lorgar. "Don't you think it's time to end this madness you've succumbed to? If you live you will only cause more suffering and death. Is that what the Skaal teaches? Or do you have no respect for your own heritage?"

 

"The Skaal believe in the way of the all-maker, and the way his creations represent." He closed his eye for a second, while saying, " I follow the path of the wolf, kill when it is necessary to survive and live, and care for the rest of the pack. The only way I can live is through battle, I am nothing without it, I kill when it's necessary, to make a living for me and my soldiers, as the wolf does." He opened his eye, causing bright red light to brighten Lorgar's face, "On the contrary, mage, I've never been following my heritage as closely as I am now. My mind is clear, and I have clarity of thought."  

 

"So instead of settling down and learning simple farming, you think killing is a better path? It's time to put on the shackles." 

 

"It's the only thing i'm good at. I've been fighting and killing my entire life, I kill with purpose and nostalgia." Lorgar looked at the silver shackles, he wouldn't give in. He slowly, but steadily drew his greatsword, "I'm going to whatever hell is meant for me, but until then, I will never surrender, or lay down my weapon. Neither imperial, nor Stormcloak will stop me from my endless battle."

 

I won’t give in...I will never stop...I will never move backwards but forever forward...In the name of the wolf, I will fight the enemy, regardless of their allegiances....the night will end.

 

"You have no real purpose. You kill because you want to. You reject the simple life because you want bloodshed. But if it's the Hunting Grounds you seek, put your hands into these shackles and your passing will be fast. Or you will feel the searing pain as your flesh is burnt away from your bones."

 

"My purpose is to kill. The All-maker wanted me like this. But unfortunately for you and your puppet, I have people to live for...† As Lorgar said those words, the Ice covering one of the windows shattered in a ball of fire, as a shadowy figure jumped in through the doorway. Though some of the ice scratched him and the black jacket he wore, he continued through the room in a flash of darkness, using supernatural speed to reach the white haired nord. 

 

And as the ice in the window broke, the runes activated and the two got engulfed in flame. 

 

The engulfing fire storm was right at the two men’s feet, both Lorgar and Lucienus could feel the utter heat of the spell, however, right before it consumed them they disappeared in a flash of darkness. They instantly reappeared on a roof, located in the market district. Lorgar was on his knee's breathing heavily, he survived. By the all-maker he had escaped death. He turned his head to thank his second, who was bowing his head,

 

"My Lord are you-"
 

"JEESH MAN, YOUR HAIR IS ON FIRE." 

 

Lucienus looked up to see his fine black hair being torched into cinder, as flame spread on his head. Lorgar rushed to him, taking off his coat and relentlessly beat the vampire's head with it. Lucienus yelped,

 

"OWWW OWWWW OWWW..."

 

****

Lucienus, with his hair slighty tinged, grouchy stood at attention, as his CO and his CO’s wife said their goodbyes.  Millies eyes were filled with tears, while Lorgar looked like he was about to cry. Lucienus snickered,

 

Let’s hope he doesn’t act like that infront of the men.

 

Milly was crying, she said in an unstable voice, “Why…why can’t I come with you?†Lorgar muttered, “I’m sorry honey. That’s too dangerous, as is the imperial city. Cyrodili is soon going to be engulfed in the flames of war and I’m going to be fanning flames of war around Cyrdoili, surrounded by…people who aren’t suited to be around a person like you. I’m not letting you stay here, and I can’t let you come with.†Milly planted her face into the nords shoulder, weeping, “When will you be there?†Lorgar comforted his crying wife, gently patting her back and felt her stomach, “I’m not going to leave you-both of you. I will be there in Solsthsiem as soon as I am able.†He compassionately kissed on her forehead, before taking out two letters. He held the first letter to Milly, before giving it to her, “This is the one for Frea.† He put it in her pack, before handing her another letter, “You asked how you would get to the village earlier. Once you arrive in Raven Rock, head to the local inn, the Retching Netch. Ask the owner for a dumner by the name of Teldyrn Sero. Give this to him. He’ll take you there after paying him some gold, which you won’t have any troubles with†She looked at him worriedly, not even a master actress could pretend to this extent, these tears, worries, and hopes were genuine

 

“You haven’t been in Solsthiem for several years, right? How do you know this “Sero†is still in Raven Rock?†Lorgar affectionately put his free hand to her cheek, “I doubt Telydrn has anything better to do then stay in his loathed town, trust my dear, he’ll be there.†And with that, Lorgar eagerly kissed her on her red lips, which Milly enthusiastically returned. They kissed, without any other thought except their love for a full minute, before stopping. Milly hugged her husband one more time, before sadily heading forward onto the dock, and into the ship. With all of its passengers on board, the ship’s captain steered his ship onward, and left the dock, leaving two longcoat clad men alone.

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Skjari, Dales

Imperial palace

Noon

 

Her memory stirred, passionate moans, laughter, sweat, sharp steel. Blood...blood everywhere. Darkness. And then light. The young woman's blue eyes opened, and her vision returned after adjusting to the light in the room. Her body felt very tired, and limp. She struggled to turn her head, and saw a man sitting on a chair, reading a book. It was her puppet master. She sighed slightly, as her unsparkling, and cold eyes moved around the room, taking in the rest of her surroundings. She noticed her masters hands channeling magic, and soon a strange looking frost worm materialized into the room. 

 

"Awake I see." He said as the ice wyrm stopped from taking full form and he closed and put down the book on the table next to him. "You should be fine. Though I would suggest taking it easy when standing up." 

 

Dales slowly, and steadily attempted to have her upper body straighten out. She felt like shit. She yawned quietly, before saying in an emotionless tone, "How long was I out?"

 

"Almost two days. You lost consciousness at the evening and was out for the whole of the following day. And if you look out you can see that it's noon."

 

She glanced to the window, before shying away from the blinding light and covering her face with her sleeve, she groaned slightly, "What-Ah..." She fell silent for a second, before she coldly starred at her master, "Homunal, were is she? I trust you managed to capture her." 

 

"Got two of her fingers. But sadly, she got away." 

 

Dales eyed him, with her navy orbs. They didn't have the normal gusto and sparkle connected to Dales, "Your saying Lilly let her get away?"

 

"I wasn't really around, I was in Skyrim along with you to fix you up, so I don't really know who to blame. She jumped through the window and we aren't exactly near the ground.

 

"How...unfortunate." Dales snorted. "Have I missed anything?"

 

"Lorgar did a hasty visit here in the city. He's lost it completely. Hircine this and bloodlust that. He had someone to help teleport him to safety and he got away too. At least now I'm improving your room's defenses a bit as you can see." He gestured casually with his left hand to the almost complete frost wyrm, then to the roof where almost half a dozen of those things were neatly placed and completely frozen so they looked like glass sculptures decorating the roof, as long as one didn't look too carefully.

 

Her eyes sharped even more, "You... let Lorgar get away?" She chuckled darkly, "If he could evade you, I highly doubt your claims of his insanity... Did you arrest his wife?"

 

"Apparently she left the city earlier the same day. And just because he's insane doesn't mean he's clumsy or unlucky."

 

"So you let my assassin, and an extremely dangerous traitor get away when I was sleeping... how unlucky." She stretched out slightly.

 

"I can also start blaming you for seeing her to begin with. But I'd rather not start a rather pointless argument over the past as I assume you've learnt your lesson."

 

"I should have researched her background extensively. Yes, I understand. I don't plan on getting involved with anyone for awhile."

 

Skjari shrugged lightly, picked up and opened the book with right hand while he started to calmly channel the magic with the left hand to finish constructing the ice wyrm.

 

"So tell me. Have you dealt with Jon yet?"

 

"He's fleeing north. Caught half his army. And Tullius decided to lose his head, both figuratively and literally."

 

"A shame-"

 

Before she could finish what she was about to say, a loud voice interrupted, and someone ran into the room, yelling, "Dales!!!!." It was a female, she wore aristocratic clothing, and had strawberry-blonde hair. Her physically appearance was attractive, if not dead drop gorgeous. Her eyes, were the exact same navy blue color of Dales eyes. She looked slightly above Dales age, around mid twenties, Skjari could hear Dales mutter under he breath,

 

"Oh great." The girl rushed forward to hug Dales, but before she could Dales lifted her hand, "Lizzie, what are you doing here?" The girl, this Lizzie, responded in a energetic voice, "Visiting my favorite cousin, of course." Dales corrected her, "Second cousin."

 

Skjari chuckled as he was finishing the last touches to the ice wyrm and it slowly sprung to life. Lizzie, who was seconds before smiling like an utter idiot, gasped in shock and fear at the floating ice monster. Before she could scream out, Dales put up her hand once again, "Calm down. It's merely a guard."

 

"Something like that." He said and held forth his arm which the ice wyrm then slithered itself around from the elbow to the wrist, with the head looking back at him for a couple of seconds before flying up to the roof and joining the others, completing the imperial dragon symbol that the others had already begun to form. 

 

She looked up in awe at the mage's play of magic, before remembering her manners and curtsying the man, "Forgive me milord for my rudeness, I am Baroness Lizzie Flortus, second cousin to her majesty on her mothers side."

 

"I'm Skjari, the court mage." He replied casually. 

 

She smiled at him, before blushing, "My cousin never mentioned...she had such a handsome nord for a court mage." She energetically laughed, "Though her majesty doesn't seem to look at men for there handsomeness, eh Dales?" Dales grumpily sulked and said in a amusingly grouchy voice, "Shoo."

 

He returned a light friendly smile. And then he looked at Dales and the smile turned slightly coy. She was going to be his wife, might as well start acting the part. Dales gave a viscous snarl in annoyance, before waving her hand, "You must be tired cousin, I'll have have Skjari show you too a guest room. I assume you'll be staying for the night?"

 

"A month in fact." 

 

"Okay-WHAT?!" Dales sudden said, louder then intended, Lizzie started to giggle and said coyly and somewhat jokingly , "We can cuddle again-" Dales rolled her eyes blushing, , while saying, "I gave you a request, master mage, please show me cousin to her room."

 

He got up from the chair and bowed lightly to Dales and Lizzy. "This way. And pardon Dales, she's had a rough time with the recent assassination attempts." Lizzie waved to Dales, as she followed the master wizard out of the empresses room, at the door the wizard gave Dales a stern glare and then subtly formed his lips as if to blow her a quick kiss, to help her get the meaning. Dales only gave him a stern and defiant glare back to him. He rolled his eyes before catching up with Lizzy down the corridor. Dales however got the feeling her body and very soul had just been dropped in freezing water. 

 

Lizzy followed behind him closely, the mage could tell she was debating if she should speak, her facial expression was extremely worried. "Something bothering you?" He casually said and barely gave her a glance as he did. 

 

"Her majesty seems...different. Last time I saw her...she was such a happy girl."

 

"Power, responsibility, betrayal, attempts at one's life and so on can do that to you. It's all still rather new to her."

 

"I do hope she's alright. Have you considered...material pleasure to ease her a little?" She asked with genuine concern, "Snuggling up to her made her feel better when ever I visited her." 

 

"Flesh" She asked him, "I could...do some stuff to please her highness if you wished, if it would make her feel better."

 

"Here's your room." He said and opened the door to the guest room. "You can have one of the servants move your stuff in here." 

 

She nodded, before saying, "Watch out for her for me. She thinks I'm annoying and obnoxious no doubt, but I worry for her. She's so young..."

 

I'm too old for babysitting. "I will keep an eye on her." He gave her a light and courteous bow before heading back to Dales' chamber. By the time the mage got back to Dales room, she was already sitting by her desk reading a document, on her left side was a legionary at attention. Dales asked the soldier, "So moral is mixed?" 

 

He said in a courteous and professional voice,

 

"There are some unrest among the soldiers after the incident with Tullius and Jon, ma'em." 

 

"Things only need to stabilize. After the victory against half of Jon's army with barely any casualties and that he is now fleeing north out of Cyrodiil. I would say things around here will calm down rather quickly. When it does we can focus more attention on the more important southern border." Skjari said.

 

"As you say sir." The legionary said, turning around and saluting the mage.

 

"Dismissed." He said, slightly wearily. The legionary saluted both of them, before leaving the room. Skjari waited till the soldier closed the door behind him. "You need to start acting at least a little bit like my wife." And he sounded a little annoyed. 

 

"Why?" She said coolly, "It's a sham isn't it?"

 

"Do I really need to tell you why?"

 

"Yes, yes, You want to be seen as a positive light in public, want me to kiss you on the cheek and lip, and call you honey." She said sarcastically.

 

Skjari drew a heavy sigh as he fell back in a chair made of a levitation spell, making it look like he was sitting on an invisible chair. He leaned the chin at the left hand as he looked down for a second before turning his gaze back at Dales. "Well now I'm giving you the order to behave the part from now on, only subtly till the wedding is announced."

 

Dales rolled her eyes, "Yes I will."

 

"Good. Now who is this... relative of yours?"

 

"Lizzie?" Dales facepalmed herself, "My second cousin on my mothers side, she's the baroness of Appledawn, a small fief southeast of the imperial city."

 

"And what kind of business would she have here in the city, or more precise, the palace?"

 

She waved her hand, "Lizzie is as harmless as a fly, as stupid as she is. She's most likely visiting out of genuine concern, nothing nefarious. We're close I suppose." 

 

"Just make sure she doesn't become a burden."

 

"Her annoyance matters little, but I'll make sure she doesn't go overboard."

 

He got up from his invisible chair and walked over to the table and picked up the tome he had been reading when creating the ice wyrm, after looking at the book's cover for a couple of seconds it disappeared. "Can't leave my books to litter the place, now can I?" 

 

"You cant."

 

"Is there anything else?" 

 

"Nothing. Leave me. " Dales said tiredly. 

 

"Or..." He walked up behind Dales and put his hands on her shoulder as he leaned down to whisper into her ear. "I can stay if you wish." He slowly started to pull down her dresses shoulder straps, and Dales could feel the work of magic as her body was filled with a soft warmth and light sensation of lust and pleasure. "Feels good doesn't it? Don't you want more?" He whispered coyly into her ear. Dales was about to say something when the magic came to an abrupt end and he put the shoulder straps back. Leaning back he chuckled a little. "Don't worry, I'm just joking with you." And he made his way towards the door. 

 

Dales, who despite feeling strange and how suggestive her master was being, managed to keep a cold and straight face, and she didn't seem amused by the joke, she said as the mage left, "Not funny." And with that Dales went back to her writing desk.

 

Skjari smiled a little at Dales comment. "Try to cheer up. Things could be worse." He said as he closed the door. 

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Rebec, Veleda, Menel
Windhelm, Palace of Kings
morning

 
Rebec had moved Ysrarald Thrice-Pierced to a different corner so that she could take over the side table in the war room. She filled it with charts from the Palace of Kings archive and was pondering them when Veleda came down. now back in her battlemage armor.

 

"How's our royal cartography?"
 
"Good morning, Your Majesty.  Eh, not good. Some imp probably made these ages ago and they weren't much even before they got outdated. I have to resist the urge to scribble on them."
 
"Hm. What can we do about it?"
 
Shrugging, Rebec replied, "I could have copies of my own charts made, but it would be better to commission new ones from an official cartographer. I guess I'll have to take one along with me."
 
"You sound reluctant."
 
"I sometimes had to take passengers on to pay the bills, but it disrupts a crew to have lolligaggers aboard."
 
"It's different now that you're a navy vessel," Veleda pointed out. "You'll have to get used to taking along support infantry, even transporting them."
 
Rebec looked over at her sharply. "Is this about your battlemages again?"
 
"Alright, yes. The navy is too important to this war with the Dominion to have our force limited."
 
"It's not about limiting our force, it's about having the right kind,†the admiral insisted. “Battles are chaos, naval battles even moreso with the wind and waves changing at any moment. I get spellcasters throwing fireballs around and we could see the whole fleet go up.â€
 
“Then don’t think of mages only as an offensive asset, but a defensive one as well. The best way to counter mages is with other mages. I’ve seen it time and again.â€
 
“An axe in the forehead works pretty well.â€
 
The queen smiled. This was a stubborn woman. Could she be any more Nord?  Veleda’s eyes fell to the amulet around the admiral’s neck. “Oh, what is this?â€
 
Rebec’s hand went reflexively to her neck. “Family heirloom. It’s the hawk of Kyne.â€

 

Veleda leaned forward to inspect it.  “I recognize the hawk, but those other smaller symbols around the edge… Do you know, I think those might be Falmer glyphs.† At the horrified look on the admiral’s face, she went on quickly, “No, I don’t believe this is a Falmer amulet. The hawk marks it certainly as early Nord. In enchanting there’s the principle of negative and positive, frost versus fire and so on, but there’s also a theory of inverted co-relation… Uh, never mind. What I mean is that the enchanter was using Falmer symbology, probably altered somewhat, against elves. It’s fascinating. May I make a rubbing?â€
 
Rebec stared at the queen’s outstretched hand, hesitated, then finally slipped the amulet over her head and handed it over. Enthusiastically Veleda took it and ruffled through papers until she found an empty sheet and a charcoal. While she worked, she said, “Urag would love to see this, I’m sure. That orc is the only one I know of who can be called fluent in Falmer script.† A mumble was the admiral’s only reply.
 
When she was done, Veleda gave the amulet back and said, “Menel and I are going up to Morvunskar to see about using it as a training base and lookout. You could come along if you like. It’s usually infested with a mage coven that seems to have claimed it, but a patrol cleared them out recently and scouts report no new activity.â€

Accompanying Fire-Hand and her Bosmer sidekick to an empty fort didn’t have a lot of appeal, but the queen had spent the two days since her wedding enchanting the Black Wisp, and Rebec decided it was the least she could do.  Baldur was out on maneuvers, and they would no doubt be back before he returned. “Alright,†she agreed. “Let me get my things.â€

They met up with Menel and a small patrol of Stormcloak regulars by the crossroads outside the city. Veleda was also flanked with Necro Nords serving as royal guards.

Out on the road, Rebec eyed the Bosmer.  He had a city look about him, but was kitted out in rough Nord gear. “You don’t usually see mages wearing fur armor,†she observed aloud.

“It’s ******* freezing in this country. Have you ever taken an icy draft up the robe?â€

“Er... no.â€

“Well then.

“You weren’t born in Skyrim?â€

“I was born in Kvatch. Went to the Imperial City as a young lad to study with the College of Whispers.â€

“Why’d you come to Skyrim?â€

“That harpy up there dragged me here. She can be quite persuasive.† Veleda glanced back at the two, but only smiled.

“For the war, then,†Rebec continued. “Now that the war’s over, why do you stay?â€

“For the sausages.â€

Rebec stared at him a moment, trying to figure out if this was some kind of euphemism, but decided she didn’t want to know. Brightening, she asked, "Hey, do you know a fellow named Maori?"

 

Menel squinted aside at her. "Should I?"

 

"He's Bosmer. My husband helped him out of a jam once. I think." She hadn't read the end of Baldur's story yet.

 

Sighing, he replied, "Do you know every Nord from here to Akavir? In short, no, I've never met the fellow. But when I do, I'll be sure to give him the secret Bosmer handshake."

 

"He might be dead."

 

"Fascinating."

 

Giving up, Rebec picked up her pace and fell in beside Veleda. “Is the elf always that cranky?"

 

"When he's sober."

 

"I know the feeling.  Alright, Your Majesty, I’ll take you up on your offer of battlemages, on a couple conditions. One, they’re under my command directly. Two, they stick to ice and shock spells, and healing. No fire unless I order them to use it. And if I or any captain wants them booted for any reason, they’re out.â€

“That all sounds reasonable. I know mages have the reputation for being prima donnas, but I assure you, my men are trained as soldiers as well as spellcasters. They know how to work as a field unit. What made you change your mind?â€

“Like the elf said, you’re persuasive. Mostly because Baldur agrees with you, and I trust his instincts.â€

“You two are obviously very close.â€

“Don’t you mean we’re obnoxious?â€

Veleda laughed. “It’s not what I expected from two hardened soldiers.†She hesitated. “Aren’t you afraid...â€

“Of losing him?  Ysmir’s beard, I’m terrified.â€

“No, that wasn’t what I meant.†Veleda struggled a moment, then said, “I wanted to ask if you’re afraid that you might... lose yourself, being so close to someone, to a formidable man.â€

Rebec turned her head. It was obvious the queen wasn’t really talking about her and Baldur.  She also had to think a minute about the question. “No, I’m not.  I once was, with my first marriage, maybe also with Baldur at first.  But I’m older now, and anyway he would be the first to complain if I did that. You’re a formidable woman, too, Your Majesty. You’ll figure it out.â€

Veleda colored a little, and nodded.  They were climbing up the hill to Morvunskar, with the fortress gate ahead of them.  She was silent a while, then said, “But how did you...†The queen stopped and gestured at Rebec’s amulet. “It’s glowing. When does it do that?â€

“When someone’s using magic nearby.† They looked around, then back at the fort. “Ugh, great.â€

“Scouts were wrong,†Veleda said, understanding. She signaled for the others to move into cover.

From the trees, Rebec gestured up at the cliffs to the left of the fort. “I’ll go up and take a look.â€

 

Veleda stopped her. “Let me go. I imagine your husband is as afraid of losing you as vice versa.â€

“You’re a married woman, too, Your Majesty.â€

The queen hesitated. She still forgot that at odd moments. “Let’s both go, then. And Menel.†Gesturing at the Bosmer, she crept along behind Rebec, who had taken out her axes, to keep them from clanking against rock as well as to be ready for a quick attack.

When they were in position, they observed a Dunmer walking along the battlements opposite them, and another mage practicing spells against the far wall in the courtyard.  Rebec scanned the interior of the fort, then lifted her head to look up at the cliffs above them, but Menel pulled her back down.

“Wait.†The Bosmer mumbled something, looked around, then gestured. “One in that lean-to down there, more in the fort. None up on the cliffs.† At the admiral’s skeptical expression, he whispered, “Detect life spell. Best scout there is.â€

Rebec shook her head. “Fine. I’m going up on those cliffs up there, to flank ‘em. I’ll get one, maybe two with my crossbow, then you make a diversion of some kind and call in the regulars.â€

“I can conjure an atronach,†Veleda agreed. “But the scouts reported there were fire traps on the front gate. It’s likely the mages re-set them when they moved in again."

“Either of you good with traps?†Rebec asked.

Both women looked at Menel. He made a disgusted noise.  "Because I'm an elf?" Then he held up his hand, reminding them that he was missing two fingers.

“Maybe one of the regulars could do it,†the admiral suggested.

Menel hissed, “No, no, never mind. I could disarm traps better than those oafs with two more fingers off and my other hand tied behind my back.â€

“It’s settled then. Give me a few minutes to get up on the cliffs, then go to it.† Rebec wasted no more time, backing up and skirting around the back of the cliffs, careful not to loose any rock.

Down in the courtyard, the Breton was casting shock spells against a practice dummy, and talking to herself. “Join a coven, ma said. It’ll be fun, she said. Meanwhile I haven’t had a decent meal in three weeks and a bath in twice so long...â€

Abruptly she cut off as she felt something hit her arm. It was a loop of rope, and faster than she could realize what was happening, the loop was pulled tight, binding her wrists together.  The Breton looked up, about to yell, but a crossbow bolt caught her in the throat. All that came out was a gurgle. She dropped into a bloody heap, thinking, now look what you got me into, ma.

The Dunmer walking on the battlements was turned the other way and didn’t see her colleague go down. She turned just in time to dodge another crossbow bolt. It whipped past her cheek, leaving a bloody mark.  Crying out and grabbing her cheek, the mage then saw a fire atronach appear in the courtyard. Spying its master's enemy, the daedroth reared back to fling a fireball. The Dunmer managed to mostly dodge this, too, her natural fire resistance preventing anything but a singe. By now she was fully aware of what was happening. And she was mad.  Keeping an eye on the atronach, she searched the cliffs for the one pulling its strings. "Got you," the mage snarled, preparing a spell.

Meanwhile, from her perch on the cliffs, Rebec saw the front gate erupt in a burst of flame. “Ouch,†she muttered. “Grilled Bosmer.†She had another bolt loaded and as soon as the mage who had been lurking inside the lean-to stepped into the courtyard, the admiral loosed it, striking the male Altmer in the back.  He screamed and stumbled. By now ice bolts and fireballs began arcing back and forth across the battlements, the Dunmer engaged in a deadly duel with Veleda.  Rebec was too far away for a shot.  Fearing the queen might get the worst of the exchange, the admiral jumped down onto the battlements and began to run, loading a bolt as she went.

The Dunmer saw her and turned, firing off a bolt of flame in her direction. Diving under it, Rebec skidded on a patch of ice. Her crossbow knocked against the stone and the bolt fired wild.  “Shit!â€

Hand rearing back to launch another firebolt, the Dunmer sneered, “Pitiful Nord!  You cannot even conceive the power I wie- AAAH!† An ice spike protruded from her chest, frost hissing around it as it froze her heartblood. The Dunmer sank to her knees and fell forward, dead.

Menel and the regulars had mopped up the Altmer and were engaging two other mages that had run up out of the fort’s interior. In close quarters, these were easily dispatched.

The Stormcloaks then regrouped in the courtyard. When Rebec saw Menel, she started laughing. The Bosmer’s face was sooty except for raccoon eyes, and his eyebrows and forelock had been scorched completely off.

“Ha, ha, very funny," he complained.  Rebec was doubled over trying to get control of herself. Turning his wrath on Veleda, the Bosmer shouted, “How come it’s always me who gets the worst of it?  HOW COME, Fire-Hand?!â€

Veleda was grinning, but was busy healing her own and others’ frost and fire burns. The fire atronach still hovered nearby, though it soon disappeared in a purple flash.

Hooting and shaking her head, Rebec wiped her eyes and took out her canteen for a drink. She inspected her crossbow and, satisfied, said, “Alright, let’s scout the interior quietly. Couple of you stay back to watch the courtyard, in case any of their friends show up.â€

“I’m coming with you,†Veleda said.

Rebec didn’t argue. They slipped into the entrance, and immediately heard hammering to the right of the entrance.  Whoever was in there must have been banging so hard they didn’t hear the fight outside. Veleda motioned that there were two figures in the work area.

“I have an idea,†the queen whispered, and quickly explained her plan.

Dubious, Rebec finally agreed. A weakness of her crossbow was the time it took to reload. Maybe the mage could buy her some time.  She crept around to the far side and Veleda took the near side, both sliding towards each other until they were in place.

At the admiral’s signal, Veleda jumped in front of the doorway and cast a ward spell. Rebec hesitated a second, suddenly not trusting the plan.  It was just long enough for the mage apprentices inside to notice an intruder. As a female mage rose from her chair and yelled for help, Rebec swore and turned, ducking under the queen’s outstretched arm, and fired a bolt through the ward and into the mage’s face.  The smithing mage would have done better to throw his hammer at them, but instead he put it down and cast lightning. It hit Veleda’s ward, crackled and dissipated. By then Rebec had the second bolt loaded and fired it off, catching the man in his chest.

“I couldn’t have held it much longer,†Veleda said, dropping the ward and sighing in relief.

“Sorry.  I just thought you were talking about something more substantial than a shimmery bit of nothing.â€

“Magic consists of shimmery bits of nothing,†the queen answered, smiling briefly but inwardly impatient.  She had a brief moment of doubt about the plan to put battlemages on the admiral’s ship, but pushed it away. There was no other way to combat such attitudes but to get her men out there fighting.

Rebec said, “Alright, it looks like we have to head further in. I’ll get the others.â€

They proceeded cautiously through the fort, hearing noises but finding no one. As they got nearer to what seemed to be the central area, the noises became more pitched.  Someone was fighting. There were screams of rage and pain, and the whoosh and crackle of spells being cast. Veleda and Rebec exchanged looks. “Someone got tired of being apprentice?†the admiral suggested.

Creeping onto the staircase that overlooked the main room, they peered around the corner and saw mages battling a tall, black figure who seemed utterly unconcerned. Chills went down Rebec’s spine at the sound of his laughter and mocking. When the last mage was dead, he seemed to look at them, then turn and disappear into a purple flash much like the flame atronach had made as it slipped into Oblivion. The room was then quiet except the moans of someone dying, and dripping water from the eaves.

Slowly Rebec asked, “What... was that?â€

Menel regarded Veleda steadily. They were asking themselves the same question, but no one wanted to answer.

Rebec tried again. “Did I see horns?â€

Veleda hesitated, then replied, “It was obviously some kind of daedroth.† What she and Menel didn’t want to tell the others was that they had never seen or felt such power in conjured daedra, and this one was not only unbound, it could apparently slip back and forth from Oblivion at will. This had implications if they were to use Morvunskar as a training base. But the queen was more convinced than ever that they had to. If anyone was going to be able to investigate and deal with this phenomenon, it would be mages, and that would prevent this place from becoming more than an occasional menace so near the capital.

There was another unpleasant surprise further in.  The regulars who had cleared the place earlier had blocked it off. Once they got the barriers down, they understood why.

“Agh, Dibella’s sweet teats, what is that smell?†Rebec exclaimed as the door opened.

 

"If that's what Dibella's teats smell like, then count me very disappointed," Menel answered.

 

Inside was a blood-soaked room with charred remains locked in a cage. The regular Stormcloaks backed out of the room, leaving Veleda, Rebec and Menel staring at the spectacle, appalled.

The Bosmer picked up a bottle resting on a table near the cage door. “Paralysis poison,†he read. “Apparently it wasn’t enough to cage them, they had to be immobile first.â€

“Or that’s how he got them into the cage in the first place,†Veleda agreed grimly. She thought she felt accusation in the admiral’s glance, as if she and Menel were somehow responsible. “We’ll clean this up later. Let’s get back to Windhelm to report.â€

Once more out on the road, Rebec said,“Tamriel can be a really screwed up place, you know that."

Veleda glanced at her. “That it can.  But remember your husband. Tamriel has its good points.â€

The queen was right about that. Thinking about Baldur always made her feel better. Even when he wasn’t there, he gave her a happiness to carry around.  Rebec glanced at Veleda. She wanted to tell her something nice in return. What would Baldur say?  “And you got... your spells. You’re pretty good with those. And you get a fiery look when you’re fighting that makes me understand how you got your name.â€

“Thank you,†Veleda answered, smiling. She could tell the admiral was trying to be encouraging.

“And the elf’s got....â€

“His sausages,†both women said at the same time.

Menel spoke up from behind them. “You’re damn right. A nice bratwurst and a flagon of ale makes shit like this almost seem bearable.â€

 
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Skjari/Witchie

Imperial palace

Early afternoon

 

Skjari was heading to the den of vipers, the Elder Council's chambers. It made him wish that it was instead dragon priests of old he was meeting, it may have been a den of dragons then, but at least they were more straightforward. But those days were gone and he had to adapt to this new realm and era as best he could. 

Wearing clothes of which had the most imperial design of the clothes he had, even though it was still rather nordic, the White Gold Concordant treaty which Mede himself had signed attached to the belt at his side with a little magic, and his old ring and sword equipped. He couldn't help but to feel a little nervous, as so much hinged on this meeting. Standing outside the double doors to the council chambers, he took a deep breath and put his hands on them, opening them simultaneously. As Skjari opened the doors, seven heads within a low lit stone room turned towards him from a U shaped table. This room was reserved for smaller meetings when all of the Elder council either wasn't there, or simply wasn't all required. The Chancellor stood in front of them, whilst the others conversed and sipped their wines. Or pretended to. Just as there were six council members, so too was there six pillars, three on each side of similar design to the main Council room where the dragonfires once burned. Now, an old Colovian man spoke up, wearing a burgundy and turquoise shirt and trousers of obvious fine make, although not too fine that it seemed he was looking to impress.

 

In fact, nothing about him looked like he was out to impress, at least not for this occasion. His grayish white hair, while cut short was unkempt, he did not wear his Council ring like the others. In fact, unlike normal, he wore no jewelery that day, a detail his other colleagues did not miss. He had a message to send, and if that wasn't clear by his appearance, it would be by word of mouth. "Ah, Motierre's court wizard. Care to tell us why you have come to...grace us, with your presence? You understand we are busy men, here, and we do not normally take time out of our day to humor the wishes of just anyone."

 

"Just anyone, is hardly who is in front of us, Serivus," said another man, a Breton man in tan silk robes and a salt and pepper pony tail. He unlike his colleague did stand as he addressed Skjari. "Hello, court mage. What business do you have with us this day?"

 

Chancellor Doron Zethus stood at the head of the table, his thick arms crossed. He had the physique of a wrestler, and glossy dark curls held back by a gold circlet.  Every inch the Nibenean, he nevertheless kept his contacts with Nibenese revivalists- and the traditional tattoing on his chest- discreet. That morning he had met with Magdela Bathory and been convinced by her to give the court mage a fair hearing, but that was all he was going to give him.

 

"Take your seats, gentlemen," he said, gesturing. "I'm sure the court mage will not waste our time, but will get right to the point of this meeting." It was a warning. With upstarts threatening his position as well as the empress', and riots in his home territory, the chancellor had little patience for pleasantries or empty rhetoric.

 

"I will. But before I start, I want to know how many of you know of my heritage?" Skjari asked, trying his best at sounding a bit humble. 

 

A few of the men started turning their heads, whispering amongst each other to see if they had heard anything of it. Serivus didn't however. Instead, he said, "Unless you have proof of blood to Tiber Septim, I have to ask what does it matter?"

 

The chancellor had waited until everyone was seated, then took his own high-backed chair. "We've seen Nords before, court mage," he answered impatiently.

 

"I was hoping that I wouldn't have to take time to explain it all. As I assume you would only let someone of royal blood become emperor." Skjari said, with a mix of impatience and failed courtesy in his voice. 

 

Chancellor Zethus sat up in his chair. "Emperor? So you are here to declare yourself. What has become of the empress, and why is she not here to proclaim you her co-ruler?"

 

"Dales is still recovering from her assassination attempts. And as I stem from a long and ancient line of king of Skyrim, whom have kept the northern land united and safe from people like the Dominion, I intend to take up my old family's legacy for the Empire."

 

"Well, I hope you understand that none of us here are impressed by a line of kings from Skyrim," said Serivus. "Quintil, surely you aren't?"

 

The Breton council member said, "Well, it's better than nothing, but you'll understand Skjari that this isn't about your blood, as no matter what the case may be, you're still Nord, which brings more issues than it solves. We're more interested in what you'll bring to the throne. Northern politics are not Cyrodiilic politics."

 

"Yes, there will be no duels when things aren't going your way, Nord," said Serivus.

 

"Not to mention that you have not yet impressed in your current duties, let alone taking the helm of the entire empire," Zethus added forcefully. "You are not in charge of security, but two assassination attempts in as many weeks, the legion in revolt, and the spymaster running off with half the treasury before that. What have you been doing all this time while my homeland burns from rioters?"

 

"The assassination attempts were on the same day. And if it wasn't for me, we would be planning a funeral and not discussing a wedding. And it was I who decapitated Tullius and led the troops in chasing down half of Jon's army, and taking them down with very little casualties. And the new spymaster have managed to recover at least half of what the lunatic, werewolf Lorgar ran off with."

 

A small wood elf now stood up, wearing simple yet elegant red robes. "The fact that it happened at all doesn't bode well, Nord. That is what people will look at, more than the fact that it was prevented. Our Empress is still off her feet. And our Count of Bruma had to take up the rest of the job before Jon was allowed to escape."

 

"Who is responsible for these assassinations? How did not one but two assassins escape your notice?" Zethus demanded, adding to the chorus.

 

"Silence!" Skjari yelled with a commanding and slightly angry voice as more councilmen raised their voices. "It was the Thalmor that sent the assassins. It's the Dominion that right now stands outside our very doorsteps, threatening to subvert and enslave this land. I'm only court mage, my only duties are to assist in magical matters. But instead I also quell insurrections, help the empress in some of her rule and prevent assassination attempts on her. What do you people do? What did you do when Amaund was ruling this Empire with the Thalmor? I aided the Dales in overthrowing her father. I helped bring an end to this very treaty," Skjari grabbed the treaty from his belt and held it up so everyone could see the text banning Talos worship, giving away half of Hammerfell, the disbanding of the Blades and the signature of Mede himself. "This treaty that caused both Hammerfell and Skyrim to secede. This is what I aim to do." He set the document ablaze. "I aim to keep the Empire from suffering another such treaty. Suffering from supremacist elves from telling us what to do. If I become Emperor, this is what I'll do. Now I ask you; what do you intend to do?" 

 

"We aren't the ones trying for a seat on the throne, court wizard. And I hope yelling isn't your way of persuading," said Serivus, as coolly as he did before Skjari's yelling. "You helped the Empress kill Motierre, but so did our legion. Why has Dales chosen to marry you, and not a general who can command Legion loyalty? Or a noble who knows how our politics work? Or even one of our current councilors who aren't here today?"

 

"Oh hush, the only reason you're making so much noise is because he's Nord. Right now, we need someone to help Dales out and he's still prevented her death!"

 

"And the only reason you don't mind, Quintil, is because the Empress is Breton, and no matter what, her children will be Breton. And just because she needs assistance, doesn't mean any old person who she sees fit to marry should be supported! All these rebelling Nords around, how do we know his loyalty lies with us?"

 

"If it didn't, why did he kill Tullius and go after Jon?" said the old wood elf. This quieted Serivus, at least for the moment. "I'm not so worried about your loyalty, but rather what you'll do when made Emperor. It's no secret that you have Dales' ear. This marriage makes that all the more apparent. Now, these anti Dominion policies of hers...is that partly your doing?"

 

These idiots make me almost miss Alduin. "Yes, it was."

 

The chancellor's eyes had narrowed at Skjari's outburst, but he watched the burning display with faint amusement. Leaning forward, he said, "We were forced to accept Motierre for killing Mede, and the empress for killing Motierre. How do we know that you have not... helped your case here by making the young girl suddenly unavailable?"

 

"Well, the Dominion laws interest me more than any of this other stuff that's been brought up, which quite frankly is irrelevant," the old woodelf interrupted, looking straight to Serivus. "Now, you are aware that it isn't the Dominion that we're against but the Thalmor, yes? These anti Dominion laws, mainly ceasing trade with them has alienated many important traders and contractors who used to deal with us and the East Empire Company, not to mention all the anti elf sentiment. Which I'm sure you can understand is very important to me. I think we need to recognize just who is the real enemy here. A word from an Emperor would do much to quell some of this elf lynching and villainizing."

 

"The Dominion is ruled by the Thalmor. Summerset, Valenwood and Elsweyr split away from the Empire to form this Dominion because of the Thalmor. The Thalmor made this Dominion. The very same Dominion, who's merchants and traders our navy is in this very moment raiding. We are at war. At war with the Dominion. And this war began when we stopped following the White Gold Concordant. But the only reason we're not having a full scale armed conflict is because none have dared to invade the other's land. It's only a matter of time before it comes to that." Skjari looked at the chancellor. "Are you accusing me of having impregnated Dales?"

 

"Pregnant?" The chancellor laughed harshly. "I'm not accusing you of anything, court mage. But it's very convenient that you show up here after the girl is suddenly indisposed. And supposing we ratify you as emperor, are we to expect another assassination attempt, this one successful?"

 

"And they may rule the Dominion, but they don't control all forms of trade. The East Empire Company for instance still had dealings with the Dominion, to our benefit I might add, until Dales' interference. The Thalmor being kicked out is one thing. Alienating trading and contract partners for being in the Dominion is another," said the woodelf.

 

"He doesn't even understand something so basic and he wants to be Emperor?" said Serivus.

 

"And what would you do then? Have the open trade with the Dominion? Giving money to the Thalmor and help fuel their campaign against us? Do you think trade can continue between to warring parties? Or are you hoping for peace with the Dominion, and another White Gold Concordat?"

 

"It is a necessary evil that we must put up with. We can't afford to deal with dying trade anymore than they can, which is why we have smuggling merchants from them in the first place. We kept up trade with Eastern Skyrim during the rebellion as well through the East Empire Company for a similar reason," said the woodelf.

 

"Enough about that, I want to hear his answer on the assassination attempts from the chancellor," said Serivus.

 

"As would I," said another council member. The wood elf seemed put off, but he wasn't surprised that the elven issue was overlooked by the others.

 

"What would I gain from setting the assassinations up? I already proved my intentions with Jon and Tullius. So that would do nothing more than to show my skill in restoration magic. And if it wasn't for Dales poisoning I could probably have gotten to Jon in time to prevent his escape. Which would have aided my cause much more."

 

"Don't play games with us," Zethus replied, stabbing at the granite tabletop with one thick finger. "What you would gain is obvious. Do I need to spell it out for you? The Ruby Throne is empty, and you are offering yourself as its new occupant. With no real claim, I might add."

 

"We're not really entertaining the thought that he orchestrated these assassinations, are we?" said Quintil.

 

"He never told us who was behind it. Who were the assassins, court mage?" asked Serivus.

 

"The first assassin was a bosmer disguised as a maid. You can the new spymaster for confirmation, I think she can even show you this assassin if you wish. The second was that girl Homi... Homul... that bru-akaviri girl whose family was Thalmor sympathizers. I had my suspicions about her but Dales insisted on that she was only a good friend." He paused for a second. "And I have more to gain from marrying Dales. And for that I need to keep her alive. We're also... close to each other." If you count having her will bound to mine close.

 

"Touching." The chancellor made no attempt to hide the cynicism in his voice. He brushed a finger over his groomed moustache, thoughtful. Skingrad was still with them, it seemed. Cheydinhal was balking, but the count was a half-wit. Zethus' own home territory was in deep trouble, but that would only get worse if White Gold did not get a handle on unrest in the north. Calculating all these things, he glanced around the room to gauge the mood of the other councilors.

 

One of the councilors that hadn't spoken up, another Imperial with balding hair in a similar red robe to the wood elf said, "So the assassin utilized the maids, the same ones both the Empress and you have been rumored to be screwing around with? Quite foolish." Serivus smiled slyly, glad that his point had come up without him needing to say anything.

 

A few seconds later, he said, "Speaking of screwing, if he hasn't put a baby in miss Dales as of yet, I hope he can find the time to set aside miss Bathory to do so."

 

"Enough already! This is ridiculous. Like it or not, the court wizard is marrying Empress Dales. Do you men really want to spend all night squabbling over such nonsense? In a time like this? We're already divided among the counties, and most recently, our Legion until Jon was taken care of. Dividing the council and the throne during such a dire time is not only pointless, but quite frankly, stupid! Now, the court mage has come here in hopes of gaining our support." Standing up now from his chair, Quintil said, "And by Akatosh, you have mine, court mage. I'll be damned before I let bickering and squabbling be the downfall of this Empire. I suggest you men today follow my example. Good day." With that said, Quintil removed himself from his seat and stormed off from the room.

 

"Quintil has a point." said another councilor.

 

"But so does Maximus," said Serivus, pointing to the balding Imperial. "The competency of our future Emperor is a fair point. He isn't Emperor yet. He still needs our support to become one. Surely there are others better suited."

 

"Like whom? You? And I might add that I know that half of you have lovers of your own, despite being married. Though I will not mention any names." He only knew around a third had lovers from Lilly, but he took a wild guess on the others. 

 

"Me? No, certainly not. I'm too old to give young Dales a child. But as I said earlier, there's a whole council of reputable men suitable for the job. We can have a suitable candidate within the week," said Serivus.

 

"Yes, but they're all politicians. I'd rather have a fighter," said Maximus.

 

"Well, that's your desire. We have generals to serve that purpose. As for our lovers, we're not the ones who let a maid we were screwing get close to the Empress. And Magdela herself used to be involved with Thalmor men, switching sides as soon as Motierre was removed. Her involvement is another....question mark."

 

"I didn't sleep with that maid. She wasn't even a maid, she was disguised as a maid. Why do I need to tell you this twice? And how can you be sure that anyone in the council got a spine enough to stand for this land and not bend over and allow another Concordat like last time? I didn't accept it before so I overthrew it. Did anyone of you even try to do the same?"

 

"Few of us had our positions thirty years ago, court mage," Zethus explained patiently, as to a child. "And though Serivus' bedroom activities are legendary, that will be relevant the day he decides to claim the throne. Now, our friend Quintil can prate as he likes, but you all must agree this is a serious matter. No one knows this royal family you claim to be descended from. If your line is to become the new imperial dynasty, then we must weigh this matter carefully. I move that we put this matter to a vote one month hence, with the full Council present. By that time, court mage, I hope you will have made progress on quelling the riots and rebellions that threaten to tear this nation apart." And progress on paying bribes into the appropriate pockets.

 

Serivus now stood up as well, then said, "I agree, let it come to a vote. I've heard everything I need to hear. Before I leave, I'll say one more thing. You didn't overthrow the White Gold Concordat, Dales did. The Legion did. You tagged along. Unless you can show you had a bigger involvement than body guard, I won't be impressed. See you, court wizard." Serivus too now made his way to the door.

 

"I'll take my leave then." Skjari said and left the room himself without showing any courtesy. One day they'll be disposable, one day...

 
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Skjari, Lilly Quentas,

Imperial City,

Afternoon,

 

Skjari was standing in front of his Wraiths that had lined. He had managed to find some new recruits, a few even from the mage university. So he had 22 mages in his little elite force, the fourteen new ones were away training swordsmanship with the legionaries. The first eight stood lined up in the almost black armor, they had all gone through the initiation. A few almost jumped at the opportunity of more power, some took more persuasion to convince. But eventually they had all gone through with it. 

 

Now they wore the armor his generals had worn along with their stalhrim swords. The robe they wore under the armor came out from the cuirass, hanging on the sides and back but open in the front where a form long loincloth hanged between the legs instead. Some had the helmets on while other either held it at the side or kept it floating in front of them with levitation spells. Skjari himself wore his blue nordic noble's clothes, with red and gold as secondary colors.

 

Skjari raised his voice as he talked to them. "Today we're going to practice casting spells in full armor, it will impede you mobility and the helmet will impede your vision. But that's why you are going to practice so it wont hinder you in combat. Now put on the helmet those you who don't already have it on." 

 

They did as he said and the one on the far left spoke up. "Stupid helmet, can't see anything." 

 

"That's because you're wearing it backwards." The Wraith next to him said. 

 

"Forget I said anything." He said, sounding a bit ashamed, as he corrected his mistake. 

 

Skjari rolled his eyes a little as at the little incident. "Now that we got that sorted out. You know the spells you need to practice on, now get to it!" 

 

"Yes sir!" They said in unison and walked away. One stumbled a little as he took the first steps, apparently still not really used to the heavy armor. 

 

As the elite mages buckled around in there new heavy armor, A man approached flanked by two men clad in heavy imperial armor. Instead of legionary service badges, they wore the symbol of the east empire trading company,  identifying them as guards employed by the trading giant. Presumably the man they guarded, wore blue silk clothing, was very plump and was bald. He approached the imposing mage, and bowed his head, he spoke in a squeaky voice 

 

"You are the court mage, correct my lord?"

 

"Something in that way, yes. Though I seem to find my duties these days to be far beyond that of a regular court mage."

 

The man nodded, 

 

"I was told by an imperial officer to report an incident to you, he said you've taken over the role of the...recently deceased high-general." He nervously cleared his throat and adjusted his collar, 

 

"It's my regret to inform you a rather large warehouse filled with weapons for the legion, and navigational tools, such as maps, compasses, and charts for the navy, has been...destroyed."  

 

"Isn't that something more suited for the quartermaster to deal with before coming to me?"

 

The man was sweating, the mage was rather intimidating. "Sir this was a rather large, and important shipment, as youve taken over the role of tullius, your expected to oversee the movement of supplies and equipment. The attack was executed like a surgical strike. Apparently the suspect moved with "supernatural" speed and disappeared,in a flash of darkness or so says one of the surviving watchmen. I took the liberty of relocating guards from the market district and talos plaza to help search for the culprit in the waterfront."

 

Great, Lorgar and his friend has turned into pyromaniacs. "Keep the men and secure what's left of the equipment and supplies. I want everything to be as fireproof as possible. No more fires, do you understand?" 

 

"It was more of an explosion than a fire but I understand."The man bowed his head, before heading away. Just when witchie thought no more interruptions, a entertained female voice filled his ears, belonging to platinum haired spymaster, "Antagonizing the elder council won't win you any favors"

 

"I haven't even done anything yet." He said, sounding quite annoyed. 

 

Lilly chuckled, she was wearing full Pentiulas Occultus garb, along with a purple cape. As usual, she apparently didn't bother putting on a braw. She stretched her arms out,

 

"A certain councilors bed talk say's he didn't care, went on about being "disrespected by nordic filth" and the like"

 

"I was hardly disrespectful. I'm simply just no bootlicker." 

 

She tapped him on the arm in a friendly gesture, "Look, I know you aint the type to speak to milk-drinking noblemen in a polite manner, but it'll be a hell alot easier if you don't shout at them. These men are some of the most powerful in the empire, and wont hesitate to crush you. You want to win the ruby throne without bloodshed, you need to be a tad bit more diplomatic."

 

"If they hadn't started a babbling choir, i wouldn't have needed to shout at them." 

 

She raised her hand, "I'm on your side of course, just be careful how you speak and act infront of council. Dales assassination attempts have made her look weak infront of the court, thankfully we managed to halt it from leaking to the public, so there's no crisis." 

 

"Is there anything more?"

 

"The real reason I'm here." She looked just as annoyed as the mage, "We took a beating. The four fireteams I deployed to find my brother in-law are missing, along with my second. The task force took heavy casualties, five of my agents are dead, from arrows and blades."

 

"I hope you're not asking for my mages. And they're still in training."

 

"No, i just need permission to recruit and fill up our forces, along with allocation of some resources!"

 

"You don't need to ask for permission to recruit. But you'll have to make do with limited resources since some supplies got torched and in need of replacement. If you want more, you'll have to find it."

 

"Lorgar huh?"

 

"And some new friend of his. They apparently thought it would be funny to play pyromaniacs." 

 

She eyed him oddly, "Do we know the motive for the attack?"

 

"Vengeance, distraction, fascination with fire, or just a general desire to destroy. Take your pick. Lorgar's crazy and I wouldn't expect his friends to be much different."

 

"Did you by any chance relocate a large amount of guards to search foe him in the waterfront?"

 

"No. Some fella from the East Empire Company did. You probably saw him leave and I ordered him to have the guards guard and secure what's left of what we still have."

 

She sighed, "Allowing lorgar to move and escape through the rest of the imperial city easier with the lessened security."

 

"If he's smart he's already left the city. If not, I'll personally dump his ash into the sewers. I don't want him causing anymore damage to anything even slightly important. If you know where he is in the city again, come tell me first." 

 

"I will. He's likely covered his track already. If you've read his military record, you'll know not to underestimate him"

 

"Hopefully he will run away and be someone else's problem. I think the Dominion in Elsweyr could use a rabid dog." 

 

"I would compare him more to a wolf than a dog,and your sense of humour is pretty basic my lord" she said chuckling lightly.

 

"And I'm not really trying to be humorous. And see if you can flush the sewers, I think some filth need to washed out." 

 

"Asking a lady to go near such a vile area? My, my... chivalry is truly dead."

 

"No, I'm asking you to talk to the ones who know how the sewer system work and see if they can flood the sewers." 

 

"I was joking. And I have to be heading off now. Have a very nice day my lord." And with that Lilly began to turn away from the mage.

 

 

"Bye." He said but his voice was drenched in the sound of a very loud explosion. And he felt a strong wind as the shockwave hit him. He turned around to see that half the mages had had been knocked down, including his own Wraiths that now had problems getting up due the heavy armor. "What was that?" He shouted at them. 

 

"We wanted to see if we could do a combined spell. And mind getting a magica potion? I'm drained." One of the Wraiths said. 

 

"Me too." Another Wraith said. "Luckily I landed on something soft." He looked down on that something as he got up and saw that he had in fact landed on one of the altmer mages that had apparently also been knocked out by having the Wraith in heavy armor land on him. "Oh." But no one else appeared to be hurt, only shaken. 

 

Skjari couldn't help but slightly shake his head at the display. "Go practice swordsmanship with the others then till your magica have regenerated. And let the other mages take care of that altmer." After slowly and a bit clumsily getting back on their feet, the Wraiths saluted him and started walking towards the sparring field. Skjari himself walked over to Lilly. "You mind if we make a quick stop at your home? I need to blow off some steam." 

 

"You seriously want a quickie? Well, I suppose it'll be fine." The female imperial said, waving him over.

 

You could probably use one as well. The last week have been quite hectic and frustrating for the both of us." 

 

"Sex and work are two completely different things. I like some action from now and then" The noblewoman said heading to the Quentas manor, "I'm hosting a party tonight, shall you attend?" 

 

"That's why it's good to use the first to relax from the second. And what kind of party are we talking about?" 

 

"Typical noble stuff. Gossip. Wine. Some of my sisters from my coven are going to be there." She said nervously, "Should be...interesting."

 

Skjari looked over his shoulder as they walked towards the city to make sure no one was close when she mentioned her coven, it looked clear and a quick detection spell helped to make sure of it. "Well I got some reports to review over the legion that is now clearing out Bravil. We'll see. But I won't make any promises." 

 

"I take that as a maybe. Well okay than."

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Tacitus

Topal Sea

Morning

 

Choppy seas pushed the Imperial ships around like a benign puppet master, even as the sky spit on their heads. His brilliantly blonde hair, almost golden in color, tied back in a ponytail with bandana wrapped around the rest, the High Admiral frowned grumpily atop the aft castle. The rough waters nor rainy conditions caused the mood, however. It was his gut, sailor's intuition, that something about the ocean felt "off" today.

 

Every sailor felt it, moping around, some staring aimlessly at the whitecaps breaking, while the mates spurred them onward, but without any real conviction. Days like this were spited, spurned, despised. The doldrums of several days at sea with little action was sometimes the cause, but that was not the case today. Fortune favored the Imperial fleet, as to this point, the Thalmor had little answer to their marauding. More escort ships accompanied the cargo cogs, and would undoubtedly increase, but for now the Imperials reigned supreme on the southern seas.

 

Of course, no on was foolish enough to believe this was permanent, as the Thalmor fleet was both superior in number and skill, if the few reports were true. The saving grace for the Imperials was division, as the Dominion had to worry about the Cyrodiil ships near Valenwood and Elswyr, thus splitting their fleet in two. That, along with the hit and run tactics, meant that the Imps held the day, if for a short time. Today could very well be the end of that reign, as poor weather usually bore bad news.

 

Every thought those ill omens was erased as soon as the Dominion ships grew larger and larger on the horizon. Sailors, eager to be back on battle, hurried to their stations, and even the archers sensed a change in spirits. Tacitus brought his spyglass up to his right eye, examining the enemy ships.

 

Thalmor sailors, strangely, were all grouped near the edges of the ship, peering over the railing into the water. Archers aboard the escort cutters could be seen firing behind them, aiming at the water.

 

Langley rushed to the admiral's side, standing at attention awkwardly, as he was clearly anxious.

 

"Sir, the enemy ships are raising a white flag."

 

"And yet they don't stop, nor slow down...keep the men battle ready, and continue towards the Thalmor ships," Tacitus said in response.

 

The flotilla sailed onward, and as the Thalmor ships grew closer, Tacitus' gut became more and more anxious.

 

Finally, his fears were realized, when screaming and yelling could be heard as a great "Crack!" boomed through the air. The source of the noise was the slowest ship, the merchant cog, which rapidly began sinking beneath the waves.

 

Tacitus, his body swearing profusely and his skin cold to the touch, pushed the helmsman away from the wheel and turned hard right, towards the shore, unseen in the distance.

 

"Order the rest of the fleet to follow us! Onwards to the shore!" he yelled to everyone, as men stared dumbfounded at their commander's strange behavior.

 

Soon, the ships followed the Tempest, and the Thalmor did the same, all the vessels sailing and rowing hard for the shore.

 

It wasn't enough, as first one "Crack!" and then another exploded through the air. Tacitus looked over his shoulder, still at the wheel, to see the two escort cutter's sinking beneath the waves, as a sickly green hump cut through the water, but was gone as quickly as it came.

 

So entranced was the admiral that he didn't notice Langley tapping him on the shoulder, the fellow Imperials wiry fingers seemingly as fast the wind with how anxious was the first mate.

 

"Sir. SIR! There's a sandbar ahead, we can't make it to the coast," the man screamed.

 

Tacitus whipped his head around, then slung the wheel further to the right, so his ship sat parallel to the sandbar, a strip of lighter water several yards away. The rest of the flotilla followed suit, so they all sat parallel to the shore.

 

"When they see it, order them to open fire," the admiral ordered Langley and the signal man.

 

"Sir, what is it?" Langley asked nervously.

 

"I, I don't know. Just relay the order!"

 

Tacitus scanned the water, looking for any sign of his worst nightmare. Droplets of rain splashed across the waves, little ripples forming only to be swept away by the whitecaps.

 

All around, men looked at the water, the older sailors fearful with anxiety of the monster mentioned only in stories, the younger ones scared of the unknown.

 

The lookout's bellow broke the silence, snapping it like a feeble twig.

 

"There it is cap'n!"

 

Everyone's heads, as if on a swivel, turned to where the sailor indicated. A long, narrow, dark shadow moved silently through the water, growing closer and closer.

 

"Archers, prepare to fire," Tacitus said, then his voice grew louder as he shouted, "Order the ballistas armed and ready!"

 

The serpentine shape slithered towards the flagship, voices hushed and breaths held in fearful anticipation. Then, the serpent reared it's terrifying maw, raising twenty feet above the water.

 

It's skin, sickly green and splotchy gray, was covered in scales, while it's fangs, like a saber cat's, stuck out from its mouth. A row of spines stretched along it's back, cumulating in a paddle like tail, flat and thick.

 

Dumbfounded, neither the archers nor the sailors stirred, until the oldest of the sailors, balding and with a slightly hunched back, grabbed a harpoon and slung it. The naval spear hit with a "Slunk!" and the beast screamed, a horrible, high pitched shriek. It slithered back down, disappearing beneath the water.

 

Tacitus looked around, people smiling and patting the oldest sailor on the back, thinking he drove off the beast. Then, like a flash of lightning, the monster shot up from the depths, it's massive maw wide open, it's knife like teeth glinting in the glimmer of sun. The group around the old man scattered, but not before the elderly hero and three others were snatched up, and drug beneath the waves, screaming and thrashing as they did.

 

"Weapons, grab your weapons! Battle stations!" Tacitus ordered the men.

 

It was too late, as the creature was back already, wrapping itself around the lower part of the main mast, then snapping it like a piece of straw. It got a few arrows and another harpoon, but they seemed to not phase it, as it slipped beneath the ship again, a few more sailors caught in its mouth.

 

Men scrambled around, some hiding behind barrels, others running below decks, all scared senseless.

 

Tacitus, meanwhile, turned to the signal man who was just as frightened as the rest, and grabbed him by the shoulders.

 

"Snap out of it. Look at me sailor!" Tacitus ordered the poor sap.

 

The man blinked a few time then gulped before responding.

 

"I'm good sir. What are your orders?"

 

"Tell the other ships to ready their own harpoons and bows. And if it comes to it, retreat if possible. I'm afraid we're already dead in the water."

 

Tacitus finished giving commands just in time to see the monster was back, this time his men rallied in as much force as they could muster, arrows, harpoons, knives all aimed at the creature. It was just so quick, effortlessly darting up from the water on one side, only to reappear on the other, snatching away men as it did. Blood now covered the deck, the fangs of the serpent leaving huge puncture wounds in some men that bled everywhere.

 

Langley rushed towards Tacitus, looking nervous as always, his thin fingers twiddling as fast as ones fingers could move.

 

"What do we do? Half the men are dead, another fourth are hiding, what so we do?!" he yelled frantically.

 

Tacitus gripped him tightly on the shoulder, shaking him with his big beefy hands.

 

"Get it together! Order the other ships to aim their ballistas at us, and open fire the next time it shows up."

 

"Alright, ye-yes sir," the first mate stammered out.

 

Tacitus ran down the stairs, onto the main deck, and drew his sword, the curved naval blade perfect for slicing and thrusting.

 

"Men, gather around me! In formation, archer in the center! Aim at its face!"

 

The men rushed to their commander's side, forming a circle around the few remaining archers, but the monster was nowhere to be found.

 

"Crack!"

 

The whole boat shook, reeling from the impact. Shrieks and screams echoed up from below decks, the cowardly getting their dues. Scales scrapped along the wood, slithering up until it burst through the top deck, it's bony forehead covered in splinters from ramming the boat.

 

A forked tongue flicked out of its mouth, and like a malevolent dancer, it swayed back and forth, eyeing the group.

 

"Thunk!" "Whoosh!"

 

One of the dromons fired its payload, a large ballistas that cut through the air like steel through flesh. The monster turned it head, but the oversized arrow missed its mark by a wide margin, falling helplessly into the ocean.

 

The beast distracted, Tacitus screamed, "Open fire!" then charged forward, blade in hand and courage in heart.

 

His men followed, spurred on by their leader, harpoons and arrows flying like a swarm of angry birds. The admiral stabbed into the beast, blood the same green and gray color spurting out. The monster, angered by the attacks, shrieked, before grabbing a mouthful of soldiers to throw into the sea.

 

Tacitus stayed the course, knowing it was the only option. He lashed out again, stabbing furiously, but this time caught the personal attention of the monster, who's bloody and ugly head turned towards him. Fangs dripping with blood like a vampire, it struck at him, Tacitus barely rolling out of the way. As he hopped to his feet, he saw men empty handed, the supply of arrows and harpoons either used or cast overboard, and the ones that did hit left only superficial wounds.

 

The creature, at least some of it, slithered towards the Imperial, and reared up just in time for another ballista to shoot through the air, this time missing my mere inches, impaling itself on the aft mast. Distracted by the bolt, the monster turned toward the oversized arrow, allowing Tacitus to jump over it's back and get a few more slashes in. He wasn't the only one striking at the beast, as other sailors swung their blades toward the scaly skin. A few of the unlucky ones were swept over the railing by the serpents back half.

 

Aware now that the men actually posed a threat, the sea creature searched for Tacitus once more. As the High Admiral rolled away from the monster's maw once again, the slowly sinking ship lurched, and a dagger like fang pierced his calf. Up high into the air he rose, dangling from the teeth of the beast.

 

"Ahhhh!" he cried out in pain, darkness creeping over his eyes as he felt himself passing out.

 

The monster couldn't hold onto his catch, however, as it's head whipped around to avoid the last remaining harpoon and Tacitus was flung off, sailing through the air towards the wrecks of the Thalmor ships. The sudden shock of hitting the water forced him awake, and adrenaline driving his every move. He stripped off his boots and belt as quickly as possible, keeping the latter as he swam upward. He lost the rest of his unnecessary clothing as well, so he could more easily swim with a defunct leg. At this point hungry for oxygen, the admiral swam his way towards the surface, free of drag but slowly fading from pain. A piece of lumber, large enough to hang onto, floated by as he burst from the water, and he hurriedly used the belt to lash himself on, before passing out and drifting further and further away from his men.

 

**

Meanwhile, the remaining crew fought till their last breath, fending off the serpent long enough for a ballista bolt to finally pierce the scaly hide. It was too late to save the Tempest, as it sank below the waves with the body of its attacker. The remaining fleet searched for survivors, staying out until the sun was almost set before sailing home, their admiral lost to the sea, presumably.

 
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Gracchus, Theodore

West of Kvatch

Midday

 

Gracchus stood several steps from camp, the open spell book on a small rock while both hands were engulfed in flames. He focused hard, forgetting everything but what he'd read in the tome.

 

Just like a fireball, you must form the flames in your hands. Then, began to gyrate them in a figure eight like pattern. You should feel the balls forming together, until they have combined into one storm. Then, release it, while focusing, so as to not have it explode too close to the caster, and watch its destruction annihilate your enemies. Be wary, though, as anyone standing close could be incinerated.

 

Moving his hands through the air in the ritual the book depicted, he slowly conjured a huge ball of flame between the two hands.

 

Once conjured, Graccuus let the fire storm loose at the boulder setting in front of him, the huge flaming ball exploding on impact, fragmenting the boulder into little bits.

 

Gracchus immediately sat down, his entire magicka reserve drained and his body sore from the spell. This was the first time he had tried casting it, and he wasn't near ready to use it in battle. The charge was taking too long, the speed which the ball traveled was slow, and he was left with almost no magicka whatsoever. No, he still had a long ways to go with the spell, but was happy he got the first cast off without a hitch, and without searing his hair off, which had grown shaggy and somewhat unkempt recently. He walked back to camp, picking up the spell book as he went.

 

Theodore was waiting for him, two scrolls in hand and the figure of a mounted courier riding a pony disappearing into the distance.

 

"They're for you," the Breton said simply.

 

Gracchus nodded his thanks then opened the first scroll, stamped with the court mage's seal, as he sat down again.

 

General Gracchus

 

Jon Hard-Heart turned out to be an insurrectionist. And he had managed to drag Tullius down with him into treason. Tullius was executed soon after he showed his true face, but he managed to warn Jon and most of his army fled north and is now being chased by the new general of the legion Tullius once commanded. Dales has also suffered from two assassination attempts the same day, one poisoning and one grievous stab wound in the evening. Both attempts were committed by Thalmor agents. Luckily I was nearby and managed to save her from both the attempts.

Tell Theodore this and say that we hope that he will still stay favorable to the Empire for the time being. Even though it might be best if he keeps his son out of Cyrodiil.

 

Skjari Snowstrider

 

Gracchus set the scroll down, shock the only emotion in his body.

 

"Tullius, he's dead. Because of Jon. And the Empress was almost assassinated," he said slowly, as if talking to a child.

 

"WHAT?" Theodore bellowed. "Let me read it!"

 

His thick fingers grabbed at the scroll anxiously, and his eyes rapidly read as if they were enchanted with quickness.

 

"Aye, that's sorrowful news. And I thought Jon a decent fellow. I'm sorry about Tullius, I knew he was your friend. It'll be alright, you still have me," Theodre said half heartedly, his beefy hand resting on the Imperial's shoulder.

 

"I, I just can't believe he would betray the Empire. Not after we freed ourselves from the Thalmor. Who'll be High General? What's happened to Jon?" Gracchus asked.

 

"I would assume Jon fled to Skyrim, or at least is headed that way. Or maybe the court mage took care of him," the Breton said, trying to sound comforting.

 

Gracchus just nodded, as he was reminiscing about not only the times with Tullius, but also his others friends, Pilus, Marius, Lorgar, all either dead or gone. It had been a sad year, one marked by more death than any he could remember.

 

"What's in the other scroll?" Theodore asked, both men almost forgetting its existence.

 

Gracchus solemnly picked up the letter and broke the seal, which was just wax with no stamp signifying who might have sent it. It read,

 

Receiver of this letter, General Gracchus Ceno, 6th legion

 

General Ceno, when you receive this letter, know that High General Gaius Tullius has been executed under orders from the court mage. I did my best to find a way to restore the empresses soul, to no avail. Now I am a criminal accused of treason, which is justified. Catia most likely is annoyed, or furious at me, probably the latter. I gently incapacitated her with a simple brew, to discourage suspicion towards you and your wife. I implore you, do not defy Empress Dales and her puppet master. I have a very reliable source of information, Empress Dales has been planning for a wedding, and from what my second tells me, it's with the blasted mage. Resistance will do little, and you'll end up like Tullius, beheaded and declared a traitor to the empire. Play the part of the loyal dog, regardless I recommend for you and your wife to get the hell out of the imperial city. The drums of war echo. Better yet, I urge you, with all haste, to retire your commission with the imperial army, you've done more than enough for the empire, and you do not owe it anything. Settle down with your wife, raise a family, do what you told me you wanted to do during her majesties coronation. If you ignore my advice, and stay with the legion, know there might be consequences. As you know, war claims many lives, and not just simple soldiers. Furthermore, if you ignore my advice about defying her majesty and the mage, seek out General Retrius and General Lithin of the 9th and 12th legion, they raised there concerns with High General Tullius recently, and are not loyal to Dales. Do not trust anyone else, if your decide to purse this path.

 

Your comrade, Colonel Lorgar Grim-Maw

 

Blood boiling, Gracchus cast this letter to the ground, and furiously rose and marched around the fire.

 

"He knocked out my wife?! Worse yet it seems the blasted Nord is to marry the Empress! What the hell is going on back there?" Gracchus asked, not so much angry at the wedding just at the events surrounding it, death and treason and his wife being knocked out. Even with Lorgar's suggestion of who to trust if he rebebelled, it wasn't even conceivable for him, not right now, nor probably ever.

 

Theodore waited patiently, hoping he would get a turn at the message. His face was plain, normal, but internally his blood boiled and it was all he could do to not let his emotions break out.

 

Gracchus finished reading it the second time, then tossed it to Theodore, who's big hands caught it with ease. The Breton read, then gently handed it back to Gracchus.

 

"I guess now we know why Skjari recommended your son stay out of Cyrodiil," Gracchus told his friend.

 

"Aye, that we do. But now what will you do, retire as suggested or play puppy dog? That could earn you the High Generalship, though I wouldn't think that's what you want," Theo asked, masquerading that the wedding revelation didn't bother him.

 

"Retire, most likely. Too much damned politics in the military now for my liking, and I was contemplating it before all this. Now we have two general's killed, one fleeing, all in a years time, plus one of the best special operatives branded a traitor all while the Empress was almost assassinated, twice, and is marrying the court mage. What a screwed up world we live it," Gracchus said, voice dripping with exasperation.

 

"Very screwed up. I do have a question, though. What did Lorgar mean about "rescuing the soul" of the Empress?" Theodore asked genuinely.

 

Gracchus had put the letter away, and now produced a bottle of whiskey he presumed to drink straight from its container.

 

"Some babble that he and Tullius believed that the soul of the Empress was bound to Skjari. Didn't think much of it at the time, but now it seems even more evident with her suddenly deciding to marry him, Nord and all at these times," Gracchus said, the bottle almost never far from his lips.

 

"Hmm, interesting. Well, if you don't mind, I am going to see if I can't find some sleep. G'night," Theo said, walking back to his tent as casually as possible.

 

Gracchus, sad, angry, annoyed, unhappy, finished off the bottle himself, throwing the empty container into the woods and pissing on the fire, putting the few remaining flames out before stumbling off to bed. He was definitely going to need to cure his headache tomorrow, but for now he passed out instantly, entering a fitful, dreamless sleep.

 

Theodore just sat, staring at the flame of the single candle as it danced around inside the glass lamp.

 

Promises mean nothing to these Cyrodiilians it seems. "You're son with be consort, Empreror!" Bah, I was foolish to believe such nonsense. With the mage in control, I was kissing the wrong boots the entire time, and now the Nord is taking control. But it's no matter, a knife in my back just means a sword in theirs...

 

**

 

The remaining trip to Anvil was a short one, and as such the gang easily arrived by noon. They checked into rooms at a well to do inn, then went about their separate business, Theo unpacking his things while Gracchus left to make a delivery.

 

He walked into the castle, where a servant directed him to the court mages laboratory. He was looking for Borkar, so as to finish his end of the bargain with Endar. The general knocked on the door, and waited for a response.

 

There was a loud crash on the other side of the door, sounding as if something heavy had been dropped. The crash was quickly followed by the sound of a heavy pair of boots hurrying toward the door. The knob turned, and Gracchus found himself face to face with a large Orc. He had a dark green-gray completion, and wore a bright green mage robe that seemed slightly too small for him. In the Orc's right hand was a long twisted wooden stick that must have been his staff. Though the bow-like angle that it was curved made it seem ill-fitted to be used as a walking-stick.

"Yes?" he said, in a deep gruff voice that was not uncommon among his people.

 

"Are you Borkar?" Gracchus asked in as friendly a tone as he could manage, the previous days news still weighing heavily upon him.

 

"Why, yes I am." The Orc answered in a friendly tone. "And whose acquaintance would I be making this day?"

 

"General Gracchus Ceno, of the Imperial Legion. I do not come for official business, however. I have a delivery, for you, sir," Gracchus said with a slight smile.

 

"Delivery?" The Orc frowned, "I wasn't expecting any deliveries. And from a General. Is it from Chorrol?"

 

"No, from Kvatch. Master Endar Drenim, wanted me to bring this journal to you," Gracchus said, pulling out the weathered gray tome.

 

"Drenim?" The Orc's frown grew larger. He seemed slightly nervous. "He's in Kvatch? I thought he was up in Skyrim or something." He took the book from Gracchus and studied it without opening it. "Did he say anything about this? Any messages or the like?"

 

"Just to deliver this book to the court mage Borkar. And don't read it's contents, of course. Why, something wrong?" Gracchus said, frowning slightly and somewhat worried at the Orc's sudden change in disposition.

 

"No, no" the Orc quickly assured. "Just unexpected circumstances is all. I haven't spoken with Master Drenim in years. And I didn't know he was staying so close."

 

"Ah, well he seemed interesting enough, if a little awkward socially. We talked a great deal when I passed through," Gracchus said, his frown disappearing.

 

"That sounds like him." Borkar said. "Drenim definitly is an interesting character, if somewhat lost in his own world... Anyway, thanks for delivering this, whatever it is. Were you expecting payment for the delivery?"

 

"No no, Endar compensated me well enough. A fire storm spell tome, I'm a battlemage and figured that would be more useful than money."

 

"Ah, that's good to know." The Orc tilted his head slightly. "Firestorm you say? I'm no expert on destruction, but given the name, that one certainly sounds like a powerful spell."

 

"Master level, Endar told me, although I was able to cast it the first time without causing myself bodily harm. Surprised even myself, but even with that I'm far from being able to use it in battle."

 

Gracchus stroked his goatee a couple times, straightening out a few stray hairs.

 

"What school do you specialize in?"

 

Borkar's eyes brightened at the question. "Why, ever since I was a boy, I have been fascinated in the arcane, and how magic can be used to influence not only our world, but other magics as well. I specialize in Mysticism, as any true seeker of the mysteries of the world should."

 

"Well, I don't know about that, but Mysticism is a fine school in it's own right, as is Destruction," Gracchus said, a little fire in his voice.

 

"Oh of course!" Borkar quickly answered. "Only a fool would question the legitimacy of the school of destruction! What I mean is that Mysticism is, at it's core, all about unraveling the truth of the arcane powers of the world. That is why those seeking the answers to the mysteries of magic should always be knowledgable in this field. Many say that it is a false school. That illusion, alteration, and even... conjuration" he shuddered a bit upon mentioning the third school, "can be used to cover all that Mysticism can teach you."

The Orc's brow wrinkled. "Which is ridiculous of course! The very core concepts of each of these types of study are not at all the same as what Mysticism stands for!" A slight red coloring had begun to form on under the green skin of the Orc's forehead. By now, Borkar had entirely forgotten what he had been talking about in the first place, he was too lost in this rant. It wasn't even close to the first time that this had happened. "Sure, most of the spells can be classified differently if you look at them from a certain perspective, but there's more to magic than spells! People forget that there is a deep understanding involved as well that only those who research it can teach the world. We need Mysticism for that. Would you not agree General?"

 

"I certainly do. I wasn't trying to come off as angry, or even perturbed, and as we both take pride in our respective schools I'm sure you understand my," Gracchus paused, searching for a word that momentarily escaped him, then snapping his fingers as he found it, "stance on the matter. Sorry, momentary slip of the mind. Age seems to be sneaking up faster than I would like."

 

The Orc's green complexion returned as quickly as it had changed. "Ha! Hahaha! That's something I can relate to General. I may not look it, but I'm quite old myself to be an Orc. Anyway, it's good to see a human who has respect for the lost school. It seems nowadays that other than myself, only old Altmer and some Dunmer even consider it worth mention."

 

"I respect every school, product of my teaching I guess. Every form of magic has it's uses, I believe," Gracchus said with a warm smile.

 

"Exactly!" Borkar returned the smile. "I would like to meet whoever taught you one day. Sounds like one of the few mentors with sense left in this country."

 

"Next time you're in the capital, look up Imus Roxton. He's the head priest of Tiber Septim, or Talos if you prefer, and before I began my studies he taught me a great deal about magic. Tell him Gracchus sent you, then go to The Laughing Fox for drinks. My wife is the owner, so just tell them Gracchus sent you and they'll hook you up."

 

"Imus Roxton," repeated the Orc. "I haven't left Anvil in over a year, but I may just find the time soon enough. With all this talk of war no one seems to be shutting up about, the Imperial City may be the best place to be soon enough. Certainly safer than Anvil."

 

"I'm not sure anyplace is safe right now, but with Anvil being on the coast it makes it even more dangerous here, as I'm sure the Thalmor would want to blockade the port."

 

"Indeed. That's the price of beach-front property I suppose." The Orc let out a guffaw at his own bad joke. "But enough about the war. It is by far one of my least favorite topics to linger on, no offense General."

A sudden realization dawned on Borkar as his eyes went wide. "Wait a second... I'm not keeping you am I?" He looked at Gracchus apologetically. "I forget that a General like you wouldn't be doing courier work for a mage unless he had other business to attend to in the place of delivery."

 

Gracchus laughed a little at the pun, then said, "Actually, I don't really have anything else to do here. I'm on a mission to Hammerfell to create an alliance, but I really was just fulfilling my end of the bargain, as I don't have anything to say to the count."

 

"Oh, good." Borkar looked relieved. "Sometimes I tend to ramble when I get into an interesting conversation, and sometimes that can lead to... embarrassing misunderstandings, such as treating a Legion General like a Courier with all the time in the world."

 

Gracchus chuckled again, shaking his head.

 

"No no, I might as well be a courier today. And you haven't rambled, it's been a pleasant conversation."

 

"I've never met a General before, but I always figured your types to be less kind. Thank you." Borkar realized that he still had Gracchus standing at the door. "I'm sorry, would you like anything to drink? I have wine, or tea if that's more your thing."

 

"Tea, if you don't mind, I had...uh...enough alcohol yesterday, erhm," Gracchus said, somewhat embarrassed as he followed the mage into his study.

 

"Tea it is then!" Borkar headed over to a pot and began brewing. "So Hammerfell you say? Ever been there before?"

 

"A long time ago, right before they rebelled and I was only there for a short time. Waste of a trip really," Gracchus told the old Orc.

 

With that, the Borkar and Gracchus talked throughout the day, recounting old tales, and even discovering similar acquaintances. The old Orc did not get many visitors, as Gracchus learned, and he maintained an uncommon enthusiasm throughout the afternoon, and when it grew later, and the sun could be seen setting through his one window, Borkar was clearly sad to have to say his farewells.

 
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Lorgar Grim-Maw, Lucienus Valerius, Homunal Akney,

Imperial City Sewers,

Evening, 

 

“Brilliant idea, captain. The stench of the sewers will surely mask our scent from our enemies, and it’s very fun crawling through this fifth like a dog.†Muttered Lorgar, in a deadpan tone.

 

Ever since the fiscal at the manor, the entire city was on lockdown. The entrance to the main gate was covered in ranks of imperial legionaries, and the Pentiulas Occultus was scanning the city in fireteams. The dock was closed and no ship was permitted to leave, thankfully Milly made it out right before that happened, and the navy didn’t see it fit to pursue a single passenger vessel on its way to a backwater Dumner settlement. Regardless, Lucienus torching that East Empire Warehouse had caused the Occultus and Imperial watch to concentrate its efforts in the waterfront district, thankfully allowing Lorgar and his second to slip into the sewer unnoticed through an entrance located in the market district.

 

Lucienus replied in an equally sarcastic voice, “Well, mercenaries are considered “dogs of the battlefield†pretty fitting don’t you think?†Lorgar massaged his hurting back, before saying, “True. Look we’ve been crawling through these tunnels for a day now.â€

 

The imperial vampire spoke in his usual voice, with a hint of humor, “Well, my lord. I arranged for a meeting with some clients, they are offering us a very handsome contract, if I do say so myself. I mentioned your name, and they seemed quite impressed†Lorgar snickered, and said snarkly, “Well, unless there a secret group of giant rat people, or some kind of crazy death-cult I doubt any sane people would want to have a meeting in these sewers.†This was the two soldiers average conversation, Lucienus would tease Lorgar, Lorgar would respond in a very snarky way, and the cycle would continue. Hardily the proper way a CO and his second were supposed to discuss things

 

“Actually, as your friend Marius found out, the prime inhabitants of these lovely sewers are cannibalistic feral vampires. If you’re a member of the order, than this is the best place to dump bodies.†Lorgar’s eyes sharpened and narrowed, “I thought throwing around the name of that depraved club was bad mojo? Didn’t you tell me they had “eyes†everywhere, and wouldn’t hesitate to hunt you down if they knew you told someone about them?†Lucienus laughed,

 

“I highly doubt the daemon of a thousand names, and his whorish apprentice is listening in on our conversation. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Magdela was secretly ******* one of the giant rats noblemen.† Lorgar replied in a low tone of voice,

 

“I don’t think Maggie would lower herself that far to do something like that, depraved, souless, power-hungry, mages, sure, but she probably has standards, and giant rat people are probably a big no to her.†Despite the limited space to move, Lucienus shook his head,

 

“If her father told her to **** a giant rat man, she would have no choice but to do it. Trust me. I know those order types. I’ve been doing wet work operations for them for centuries now. Infact, I bet she would write some crackpot novel about her experiences with the rat man. Label “The lusty ratmanâ€, after publishing the book, it would become another best seller, just like the rest of her trashy novels.†Lucienus annoyingly shook his head, Lorgar continued on with the conversation,

“Well she did write a book on a vampire that preferred having sex with other woman. And there was that really bad one, Sons of Skyrim, pure propaganda. Portraying a brutal conflict like that into some sort of romantic fantasy, bah.†The imperial vampire nodded, in a humorous way, “When were on the topic of romantic fantasy, why don’t we discuss your choice of fiction-“

 

Lorgar interrupted the man, in a sighful voice “Eh, be quiet.†The vampire laughed darkly, “As you say, my lord.†

 

Lucienus broke the silence a few minutes later

 

“Not only did you-pardon … order me to destroy a warehouse filled with important equipment, you told General Ceno about the court mages secrets, also instructing him on whom to talk to if he wanted to cause a ruckus in the legion.â€

 

Lorgar shrugged, attempting to filter out the horrible stench assailing his acute sense’s, dead bodies were one thing, sewage was another.  He replied to his vampiric second, waving his tightly packed arm, “He’s not going too. He’s too loyal to the empire to do that sort of thing. However, his loyalty doesn’t blind him. He’ll know when to call it quits in regards to his military career.  Tullius was one of his closest friends; his death at the hands of the mage won’t win his good graces. He’ll start taking my words about Dales binding seriously with the information about the upcoming wedding.â€

 

Lucienus eyed his commanding officer strangely, “And how is this good news? So what if he retires?â€

 

Lorgar grinned, putting on an innocent expression, “Maybe I want my friend and comrade to have a long and happy, life free of war?â€

 

Lucienus unexpected swore “Bullshit.â€

 

Lorgar sheepishly put up his left hand, “Well, it’s true. Gracchus deserves to live the rest of his life in peace.†Shrugging the nord continued, “A side benefit of this is an honored general, a hero to the people and to the military, would be retiring his services. Gracchus is loved by the men.†Lucienus muttered “And?†Lorgar smirked again,

 

“And. Tullius, despite being a controversial figure, was still admired and liked by many people in the imperial army. Jon, despite being far less liked, was still a high ranking member of the legion. And now, if Gracchus retires from the legion, what is this going to seem like to the average soldier?â€

Lucienus gave his trademark dark smile, “Morale will plummet. Two heroes of the empire, one having his head lopped off, and the other, retiring his services. How does this exactly benefit us?"

 

Lorgar simply said, “Unrest in the legion. That bastard, the mage, will be dealing with the riots in anvil, the almost open rebellion in Cheyndiel, and now, sever doubt from the legion. Two of the general already extremely mistrust Dales and her regime; this will add fuel to the fire. Meaning he’ll be way too busy to look for us. By the time his hands are empty with things he needs to control, which he’s obsessed with, we’ll be gone from imperial controlled territory.â€

 

Lucienus sarcastically said, “So...were a side cause for an entire empire’s unrest, political and military instability, along with are paramilitary/mercenary force built on stolen and…â€relocated†Occultus and imperial funds, along with your former fief’s treasury which you hijacked.†Lucienus continued, “Meh, works for me.â€

 

They struggled through the tunnel for three more hours, before arriving into a pitch black room. Lucky for both men, both Lucienus and Lorgar could see well in the dark.

 

The room itself was medium in sized, almost completely bare except for a round table, which had a candle sitting on it. Lucienus approached the table, and Lit the candle with a spark of fire.

 

“Well it seems we got here early-“ A feminine voice filled the room, interrupting Lucienus, “You know I’m always punctual, my dear captain.†At that voice, Lucienus face twisted into a grin. Revealing his fangs. Lorgar’s vision could see three figures enter the room from a decaying oak door. Despite the trio wearing dark hoods and cloak, he could tell by their height, body structure, and mannerism of moving, two of them were high elves, while the third was human, the one who spoke earlier

 

The female went to the table, flanked by the two high elves. Lorgar could tell she was very short, especially compared to the lanky mer around  her.  She wore leather boots, and on her left hand, was a dark leather glove, while the left was bare. Her skin was very pale. Hanging out of her hood, were splendid white locks, very long in length. She took a seat on one of the broken, wooden chairs, while her two, presumably subordinates stood at her side. Her voice was formal, officer-like, clear as glass, and stern. Her darkened face starred at the nord

 

“So you’re, Lorgar Grim-Maw?â€

 

Lorgar glanced at Lucienus, who nodded his head. Lorgar reverted to his usual stoic voice,

 

“Yes I am, I don’t believe were acquainted-“

 

She sharply interrupted the former legionnaire, “We actually are. We met at…the empress’s coronation.â€

 

What?! Lorgar’s eyes narrowed, his glowing red orb glancing at the girl. He couldn’t see her face, and her scent was masked by perfume. He warningly said “Well, I don’t remember a faceless woman, forgive me for my lacking memory.†The nord said sarcastically, which caused her to chuckle slightly. She used the hand with the leather glove to slowly pull down her head. Deep blue eyes filled Lorgar’s vision, similar to the Lapis Lazuli waves of the ocean.  Her face was soft, and very pale. Her small lips were curved in a smile. Lorgar practically spatted her name out, instantly recognizing her face,

 

"Homunal Akney." The breton girl looked awfully smug, as she stretched out her arms. "By now, my dear "duke", i'm sure your aware of my true allegiances." Lorgar got up from his chair angrily, giving Lucienus the look of death, "You didn't tell me your clients were the dominion." Lucienus, who was moments ago, perfectly cool, spoke in a apologetic and pleading tone,  "Forgive me for the deception, my lord, but I doubt you would have agreed to go down here if you knew."  

 

Before Lorgar could speak, Lucienus interrupted him, "Please hear out her offer." Lorgar, cooled his head, and with a heavy heart, sat back down on his chair. Homunal continued to grin, saying  "Good boy. Now i'll get to the point. If you are aware or not, the dominion has been strengthening the border from Cyrodili into Valenwood, sending troops to the front. They've also been reinforcing our armies with mercenaries, rabble. Unlike them however, the shadow corps, not the military, would be the ones hiring you. and our offer is a very attractive one."

 

She glanced at the annoyed man, with a smug grin, "Special Operations unit status, good pay, and a commission for yourself as an agent for the dominion. Not bad right? I don't even know why my superiors are so interested in you and your men, your a bunch of savages and killers."

 

Lorgar didn't waste any time responding, he spoke in a clear, and decisive voice "Dont know? What I want to know, my dear girl, is why an assassin like yourself is so bad at lying." Homunal's face filled with fury, and her lips moved to say something, but was cut off, "Let's cut the bullshit. You've just failed a very important operation, assassinating the empress . Your superiors wont be pleased. What I think the situation is, you want to return not empty handed. If you return with your failure solely on your back, the best you can hope for is a desk job the rest of your life. At worst, torture, mutilation, and a message sent to the rest of the dominions human lapdogs.   So you want me and my men, an elite mercenary unit headed by a former imperial spymaster, as an offering, and to show them your not a total failure, which you are." Before she could say anything, Lorgar continued, "So here's how this is going to work, you sweeten the contract." Lorgar turned to his second while saying, "Cigarette."

 

Smiling, the vampire took the tobacco filled product from his coat pocket, and placed it into his CO'S vacant mouth. Before he could light it, Lorgar turned away, and instead placed his head forward, close to Homunal, moving the cigarette in his mouth, smirking. Homunal, whose hand was shaking in fury, snapped her finger, causing a flame to appear, and lit the cigarette, Lorgar pulled back, putting his hands infront of him, and gave homunal his most pleasant face, while inhaling deeply,

 

"Now, we deal."  

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Skjari, Lilly 

Imperial City, Quentas Manor

Evening

 

Lilly yawned tiredly, as she sipped the glass of champagne. The countess was wearing a very revealing low cut dress, sparkling blue, along with high-heeled shoes and white elbow high gloves.  Her long platinum was neatly done, and her ocean blue eyes were bored. Not even enjoying her own party, how unfortunate. 

It's been three hours since it's begun, and things haven't really gotten interesting. All the nobles did was sip lesser sums of alcohol, and gossip about one another in derogatory fashion.

 

I really need to find a strong man, or gentle woman to spend the night with.....

 

"I don't feel like I've missed much." She turned around and saw the court mage, still dressed in the same nordic nobles' clothes he had worn on the training field. Only difference from then to now in his appearance was that the clothes seemed cleaner now and that his hair was recently combed. "Sorry for being a bit late."

 

She smiled at him, walking to meet him, she said" You haven't. I was starting to doubt you would show, glad I was wrong." Some of the other nobles glanced at the court mage warrinylg, by now they had heard from one source or another his intention to claim the throne, some neutral about the situation, other's not so much. Lilly whispered into his ear, "Shall I introduce you to some of my sisters, or do you want to speak to some of the others of court." 

 

"Let's meet your acquaintances." He said in a normal tone but then leaned slightly closer and also whispered into her ear. "But remember one thing; my past is far in the past and shall stay that way." 

 

How did she know? Gracchus never seems to have told anyone. Or did she happened to have a spy nearby when I told the story in Skyrim? That thought made him slightly nervous, he didn't like the notion of being so watched. But he quickly decided to focus on the present and shook off the feeling as he followed Lilly through the crowd. 

 

The first person she showed him was a red headed Imperial, her skin was lightly tanned, and her face was covered in freckles. She was very attractive, in her own way. She had a bright smile, and wore a green dress. Her posture was straight, and she was carrying a glass of wine in her left hand . At the sight of Lilly she made her up way to the hostess of the party, and gently went in to hug her, "Lilly, it's been too long!!!" Lilly returned the hug and gave her a nod, "Marie, it's quite good to see you again, enjoying your self?"

 

She raised her glass. "Of course I am."

 

Lilly broke the embrace, and motioned to the nord next to her, "Marie, this is Lord Snowstrider , court mage to her majesty Dales Motierre." Lilly leaned in and whispered into the mage's ears, "This is Marie Walpurgis, our most promising sister, she hasn't become a full fledged member of the coven, she's till a discipline, but she's already more powerful than some of our full sisters." 

 

The redheaded witch curtsied the mage, "Baroness Marie Walpurgis. at your service my lord."

 

"A nord from the barbaric north." He said half jokingly as he bowed for her, he thought about kissing her hand but decided to not try to be charming this evening. 

 

She eyed him, still smiling, "As in barbaric, you mean untamed, free, wide open, and rugged?" She had a strange accent, it was somewhat rough, but charming and refreshing from the usual civil tone Skjari was used to around here. It was like the country side.

 

"That depends on how you wish to see it. I wont tell you anything real about Skyrim, other than to go there and experience it for yourself if you want to know the land."

 

"I'll consider that." She said, smiling. "Haven't gone on a vacation for awhile-" Before she could finish her sentence, her face filled with annoyance at the sight of a well dressed man. He was clad in a red dress-uniform of the legion, his hair was brown, and he was broad. She sighed, "Well if you excuse me, my lord." She faced Lilly, kissing her on the cheek, whispering, "Sister." And with that, she made her way away from the two. 

 

"Well that was interesting." He said sarcastically and slightly bored to Lilly in a low tone so that no one else could really hear him. 

 

Lilly chuckled under her breath, "What you were expecting her to go on about her experiments on living organisms or discuss the interview she had with a Spriggan.?" She glanced around the room and whispered. "I only told my sisters you were a brother from another coven. I doubt they'll really trust you. She grabbed his arm, "Come." 

 

He spoke in a low voice as he walked at her side. "I'm just a mage now. As I said; that time is far in the past." 

 

"Once a witch, always a witch." She made the occasional greeting to other guests from time to time moving among the crowd, before saying in a quiet voice, "Dales assassin has gone fully underground, and has completely vanished from the Oculatus eye, I'm sorry."

 

"Did you flush the sewers?"

 

"Yes. Before that, I dispatched an entire task force into scanning the sewers for Homunal. Nothing." She looked around, "She's crafty. I'm not surprised your hounds were only able to get two of her fingers."

 

"Why not just flush the sewers and wait at the the exits to see if anything interesting pops up?" 

 

"We did. Nothing but a few rats and the corpse's of some common rabble."

 

"But why waste time searching the sewers beforehand then?"

 

"Flooding the sewers would have destroyed any documents that could have been down there. Unfortunately, there were no sensitive documents to find."

 

"Documents in a sewer?" He said in slight disbelief. 

 

"We found the remnants of what appeared to be a dominion safe house down there. One of the banners were still in place, and it had sighs of being used very recently. I have my agents scan the premise, before flooding the area, but it was clear."

 

"Well I hope you didn't waste too much time searching as I doubt any documents wouldn't be kept in a chest. And a chest wouldn't be that hard to spot in the sewers. Unless it's underwater, but then it's waterproof and you might as well flood the place. Anyway, lets move on." 

 

"Yes-"

"Lilly, my dear." Standing behind them was a raven-haired woman. She looked like she was in her late twenties, and her skin was pale. Her eyes were purple colored, and her haired was very long, and neatly done. She wore a silk purple dress, along with a pair of dress shoes. She was quite gorgeous, even more so than Lilly and her sister. Skjari could notice her stomach was swollen, indicating she was most likely with child.

 

At the sound of that voice, Lilly stopped in her tracks and Skjari could see her skin grow pale and her hands start to twitch nervously, she cleared out her throat, respectfully bowed her head, and said, "Duchess Homulilly."

 

She eyed the man with her soul piercing gaze, before bowing her head. "Duchess Sayak Homulilly, at your service Lord Snow-Strider."

 

Skjari himself could looked at her eyes and couldn't help but to wonder what she had done with her eyes, they were obviously not natural. And compared to Lilly he was as relaxed and casual as usual. "Nice to meet you." He said with a bow. 

 

She gently offered him her hand, intent on shaking it, she didn't smile, and her mannerism was very stiff, "I'm sorry my lord. I was never really taught social manner's by my parents, we are supposed to shake hands, correct?"

 

"I thought the nobles of Cyrodiil was more for simply bowing and curtsying." He said as he shook her hand firmly. 

 

"Well, that's not practical? I think a nice firm handshake is a better sigh of familiarity. When we do this, we can tell how strong the other person is physically." As she said that, Skjari could feel some kind of pulse of magic flow through him, coming from the woman. It was much stronger than he expected from her of being capable of, but still weak for him. 

 

Seeing it as a test or challenge of magical strength, he sent a similar pulse through her to show that he was stronger, but he still held back so that there was good room for underestimating him. "I think if you want to tell how strong someone is, then have them lift a rock. I've met men that could crush my hand but still had a soft handshake."

 

If she was impressed she didn't show it. Her face was blank. She gently let go of his hand and said "As interesting as that would be, I doubt these social climbers would appreciate a true test of strength."

 

"Probably not." He glanced down at her belly. "Who's the father?"

 

"Some lesser noble. " She felt her stomach, her hand warmed by the life, closing her eyes slowly, she said "We made an agreement. He gets to wear my family name, and he stays away from me and her."

 

"What a lovely agreement." He said sarcastically. 

 

"I don't mind. I get to raise her the way I see fit, and don't have to be weighted down by a useless husband" She said with no emotion.

 

"If you think it's they best way, I wont stop you. Goodbye." And that was the end of the, what he thought, unpleasant talk about children. A subject he knew he would probably have to deal with in a near future. He turned to Lilly, hoping for her to lead him to someone or something else. 

 

Lilly's face was as pale as before, as she was looking at the duchess in fear. Ignoring Skjari the raven-haired spoke in a stoic tone, "Lilly. We need to talk. Somewhere, private." As she said those words Lilly gave her cavalier a pleading look, and gulped a mouthful of air. Noticing the look on Lilly, Sayak purple orbs stared at him, and unexpectedly, the same stoic voice began to fill his head, "I request you don't interfere, I won't hurt her. However as her superior I need to discipline her."

 

"Why can't you do it later? You expect me to find my way to the mead here without a guide?" He replied the normal way. 

 

"I'm leaving for a dark sabbath in a few hours. I unfortunately don't have the time. This will only take five minutes, and then I'll return her to you."

 

As much as he disliked having others command the women he slept with other than himself, he wasn't sovereign ruler of this realm, yet. So all he did was shrug. "As you wish. Just make it fast. Or I might start getting bored and come look for her." 

 

Lilly nervously lead the older woman through the party, trying her best to hide her worry from the rest of the guests. She lead Sayaka to an out of the way study room, and quickly locked the door. She could see in the corner of her eye the other witch cast a muffle spell in her right arm, Lilly spoke, "You wished to speak with my-

 

Lilly was cut off, as her body was roughly pushed forward onto the wall behind her by an unseen force, and she could feel a grip tighten around her throat. She tried to move her arms, but they were like paralyzed. Sakyaka Homulilly, the Raven-haired witch, was standing with her right hand raised to her throat, her face as blank as usual, and her words as emotionless as before. "You've been causing unnecessary conflict in the coven, again Lilly.â€

 

Lilly struggled to respond, with her voice being cut off by the iron grip, “I don’t know what you’re talking about milady-“ She yelped, as the grip tightened even more. 

 

“You ordered your agents to physically abuse your sister, when she was pregnant no less. 

 

Lilly struggled, as she replied in a hoarse voice, â€œI did nothing of the sort. Mother won’t allow this-“ Lilly was interrupted as the grip tightened even more. 

 

Homulilly spoke in a cool voice, “Your mother has no authority over my duties. The members of the moon council, have no authority over the other persons respected role, you know this. You've been harassing your sister again.†

 

Lilly, unexpected yelled out, “She’s not my sister anymore, mother disowned her.†

 

“No. Family wise, she’s isn't you sister. However, as a member of the coven, she’s still your sister, and a higher ranking sister. You will stop this idiotic rivalry with her.†

 

Lilly defiantly called out, “Whose side are you on-“

 

Coldly, the dark-haired witch interrupted her, “On the side of those who think logically, which you obviously aren't.†With a thud, Lilly fell to the ground, grasping her throat as Homulilly released her grip. She bluntly said, “You will submit to my authority. I order you to cease your hostility against your sister.†She turned away, and slowly opened the door out of the room. With a swift motion, she moved her hand through her silky black hair, and said before leaving, “If you don’t comply, I’ll take more drastic actionâ€

                                                                 

And with that Lilly was left in the room alone, to recover from he ordeal. She returned to the nord as soon as she was able, and bowed her head to him, “Forgive me my lord for leaving your side.â€

 

The nord was now holding a glass of wine that appeared to barely or at all have drunk from. "Do you have any mead here?" He then threw the glass over the shoulder, the wine however didn't leave the glass and it landed neatly on a table a few feet behind him. 

 

She quietly said, "I ordered quite a bit of Black-Briar from Riften. I think its time we take it out."

 

"Good, maybe that liven up the place. At least for me." 

 

Lilly ordered some of her servants to bring in the mead. She was still very pale, and her hands were still twitching nervously.

 

"What was that about?" He asked while waiting for the servants to bring the mead. 

 

She nervously played with her hair, before saying "Nothing... Sayaka is just extremely intimidating."

 

"Really?" He said in slight disbelief. "I find her to be a bit dull."

 

"That's just adds to her fear. She doesn't show anything while putting people in her iron grip, or make orders."

 

"If that's what you think." He took a short pause before continuing. "But what is wrong with her eyes?" 

 

"She apparently fought a coven in Skyrim once, an off shoot of the Glenmori witches. Their leader, a hagraven, conjured up some sort of poisoned ice spear at her. After being impaled on it, she torched the bird with an inferno of fire. She survived her injuries, but for some reason her eyes changed color. Or so the story goes."

 

"Or she just used extensive alteration magic." He said as he shrugged. "Ah, here's the mead." He grabbed a glass from the silver plate full with mead filled glasses the servant that walked him past carried. 

 

Shrugging "That's what my mother told me when I asked." By now all the other nobles in the room has spotted the new beverage, and rushed forward to taste it. 

 

One of the noblemen in front of them eyed the brew oddly. "Is this drink... nordic?" Skjari just nodded the best he could at the man, whom he thought looked more like a woman, while downing the glass in one go. The noblemam gave in to his curiosity, and took a swig, gulping it down like how he saw the mage do, he said, "This is... excellent."

 

"Yes it is." He then drew the index finger with his free hand across the mustache to clean up the mead with magic. He then turned to Lilly. "Lets find something or someone more entertaining than that last one." 

 

Lilly responded with a nod, "Do you want to meet some of my more liberal sisters?"

 

"As long as they're less stiff." 

 

"Want to meet lady grey and her harem?" She asked, with a curious look on her face.

 

"Harem? Sure, I guess." He said with little undertone of confusion and curiosity.

 

"Okay than." With a little unease, she lead him to another common room, which was filled to the brim with nobles. Lilly must known quite a bit of people. This common room was filled to the brim with flowers of many different colors and sizes. However that didn't draw the most attention. In the middle of the room was a particularly large sofa, and on it was six females. Two of them were sitting down upright, two of them were lying down on the sofa, and one was standing behind it. They all looked like they were in the early or mid twenties, and each could be considered attractive to various extents. All of them, however, were centered around one girl. She wore full black clothing, a very fancy dress, and had pale white skin. Her hair and her eyes were grey, but surprising, she looked very young, Twenty at the most, and she was around the same height as Dales. She was laughing out loud and talking to the other nobles around her, still having her arms wrapped around her, as Lilly called "harem".

 

Lilly turned around to Skjari, "You sure you want to talk to Lady grey?" 

 

"I'm not really sure about anything here at the moment." 

 

"You two have some things in common, so lets's go." 

 

At the sight of Lilly leading Skjari forward, Lady Grey raised up her hand and said joyfully, "Ah, Lilly, great party." 

 

Lilly smiled back and returned the wave, "Lady grey, it's great to see you again." She motioned towards the man standing beside her, "Lady Grey I'd like you to meet the court mage, Lord Snow-strider." 

 

"Nice to meet you." He said with a bow. And he was getting a bit tired on all these pleasantries, even though he did a good attempt at hiding his weariness, it could still be heard in his voice. 

 

Lady Grey put up her left hand, giving him a simple nod, "I'm sure your worn out from all that social manner rubbish. Don't bother. I'm Lady Victoria Grey, daughter of Duke Alexandros Grey of Helrthgen." Her accent was distinctively upper-class, though it wasn't snobby. 

 

"Where did you get... these?" He glanced at the other women at the couch. 

 

She started to lightly rub her fingers through one's hair, before saying, "These are all noblewowen, mostly from Colovion." She said winking to each of them. 

 

Lilly whispered into his ear, "There all initiates of our coven, Lady Grey has first claim."

 

"Is a requirement to be that kind of woman, or is it something they have to play along and deal with?" He whispered back. 

 

She whispered silently, "No. Though it really does help if you swing both ways or the same." She continued, "They say once you meet Lady Grey, you start going that way, or rather, her way. I cant really test that, since I never had a chance to really meet or talk with her before becoming a full sister." She smiled, "She uses her natural wit and charm to get girls in her harem, no magic there."

 

And I thought my coven was weird. He then stood there, trying to come up with a subject to speak of with Lady Grey. He still wasn't good at these imperial noble gatherings. So instead he hoped for Lilly to come up with something to discuss. 

 

"So Lady Grey..." Lilly said in a quiet voice and a grin, it was loud enough that Witchie could hear them, "This fine gentleman here has his own harem. A bunch of maids." 

 

Lady grey turned to him, giving him a smile, "Oh you..."

 

It was definitely not the subject he had expected to come up and couldn't help but show a little surprise and shock in his eyes before speaking. It also brought back the council's warning about having other women into his mind. A warning he had to heed, for the moment. "Something like that."

 

Noticing the surprise and shock, Lady Grey caught on, "Don't worry, brother, were all friends here." With a grin, she chuckled, as she lightly jumped onto one of her ladies, causing her to lie on her, the girl didn't seem to mind, as she joined in with her own laugh. Horsing around a little, she got back up into her normal position, with a girl at her side, and took out a bottle from a silk bag. The bottle itself was kinda of old and weathered, but he could tell it was mead. A very expensive mead. It had the words "Bluefrost" etched on it, she opened the cork and took a swig, before tossing it to him. "Bluefrost mead, early third era. Take a swig. Lilly told me we would have a nord here, thought you might want a high quality beverage. Relax and loosen up a bit."

 

He took a swig from the bottle, it was really good and he recognized that it had the basic taste of Frosthoney mead from the ancient days. But it still wasn't pure Frosthoney mead. Baldur had made a good try with the recipe he had sent, but as expected, the mead he had made wasn't as good as the that of the brew-masters of old. He looked at grey. "Really good mead." He said and sounded quite pleased before continuing. "But I'm no 'brother'." And couldn't fully suppress the undertone of bitterness in his voice. 

 

She gave him a solemn look, and her lips moved to speak, but before she could finish, an imperial man pushed Skjari out of the way roughly, stumbling forward, he reeked of alcohol. He had the same grey hair and grey eyes as Lady grey. He mumbled out words, "Ya'll, an lesbian whore, Lady Grey."

 

The noblewoman put her gloved hand to her forehead, and with annoyance said, "William, your drunk aren't you?" 

 

Lilly put her hand to Skjari's shoulder, in response to his bitter words, before whispering, "That's William Grey. Lady Grey's uncle." 

 

"Sounds and... smells like a nice fella." He replied sarcastically in a low voice. 

 

"Lilly do you mind?" Lady Grey said, winking. 

 

Lilly chuckled before winking back. "Go ahead." 

 

Lady Grey got up from her sitting position, and grabbed the nobleman by the collar, lifting him up. To the shock and surprise of everyone in the crowd, William fearful began to look around giving everyone pleading looks, Lady Grey gave him a warm smile, before saying to him, "Uncle, do you mind?" And with that she dropped him to the ground, and slothfully sank back into the sofa while William left the room in a hurry.

 

Despite that display, it really didn't unease the crowd, who began to gossip with the witch again. Lilly laughed out loud before speaking in a low voice, "Lady Grey's family is known for being very adept in magic and physically very strong. I doubt any of the morons are really surprised or scared."

 

"There was a levitation spell involved, that collar wouldn't have been able to hold his weight." Skjari said. 

 

"Lord Snow-Strider is correct." She eyed the door that her uncle had just left through, "He never did like me. Old fashioned bastard, one of these day's he'll mysteriously turn into a toad." Cackling, she stretched out her arms, "He smelled like Black-Briar mead. I assume you served it. Many of these nobles aren't used to mead, so expect to see a lot of drunk imperials, along with very rowdy behavior." 

 

"Maybe I should cast some magic or stuff something up my nose if they're all going to smell as bad as him." He said in an almost deadpan tone. 

 

"I would." Lady grey said, chuckling, she gently laid her head down into one of her ladies stomach, closing her eyes. You softly said, "Tell me, Lord Snow-Strider, do you miss your homeland?"

 

"A bit." But snoring was the only response he got, as it seems lady grey had fallen asleep. He turned to Lilly. "Stressful day for her?"

 

"Very. She doesn't spend all of time going to parties and fooling around with her harem. She's the vice chairman for the Grey logging company, this month is the busiest time of year for her."

 

He took another swig from the old mead bottle. "Find someone else to bother or find a bedroom?"

 

"Want meet my cousin?"

 

He shrugged. "Sure. And lets hope she doesn't fall asleep." 

 

Lilly led the mage to the upstairs reading room, passing by people holding mead bottles. They weren't even bothering to drink them from a cup. She stopped at the doorway leading into the room, before saying, "Katrina is barely a discipline, and she's very shy, so please don't go all scary nord on her." 

 

He looked at her with a slight surprise. "Scary? I'm not even trying to act intimidating." 

 

"You sometimes are, she's only fourteen."

 

"I can try to smile I guess." 

 

Lilly opened the door, revealing a dimly lit room. The entire room was filled with shelves of books of all sizes, and a warm hearth. A set of leather chairs were adjacent to the fire place. Sitting one one of the chairs was a girl. She wore an school uniform, the insignia on it told them she was a student of the imperial dragon academy. She had black hair, unlike Milly and Lilly. It was done in two braids. She wore a pair of glasses, silver in color. She had her families unique Lapis Lazuli eyes. She had a rather large tome in her hands, which she was intently reading. Lilly gently called out to her, "Katrina?" 

 

The teenager averted her eyes from her book, and gazed at her cousin, "Ummm...yes... Lilly?" 

 

She motioned for the nord to step forward, saying "This is my friend, Lord Snow-Strider."

 

Skjari took a step forward and smiled a halfhearted smile. "Hello." He tried to sound more friendly than bored, but even though the friendly tone was there in his voice, it wasn't very convincing. 

 

She looked at the imposing nord, before putting her head down, without looking at him, she said, "Ummmm...hello...my lord..."

 

"Why is she like that?" He whispered into Lilly's ear.

 

"Horrible social skills. Her mother sheltered most of her entire life and didn't teach her how to act to strangers. Mostly due to the fact she has a heart condition. So Katrina turned into a..." Lilly searched for the proper word. Before giving up, "Regardless, she's staying with me for the school year." 

 

"I hope she wont be a burden to your duties as spymaster." He then looked back at the little girl reading her book. While he was here could at least act a little socially. "What are you reading?" 

 

"Massacre...at... Sarthaal, butchering... of... the Falmer." She quietly said.

 

"If I remember correct, Sarthaal was where it was the other way around." 

 

She shook her head, "Oh...yes...my lord...it explains the background in the fall of Sarthaal, and how the nords counterattacked...I...like the...gory...descriptions about...what they...did... to the Snow elves."

 

"You really ought to teach her to speak properly." He whispered into Lilly's ear. 

 

She whispered back into his ears, "She has a speech impediment, I've tried." 

 

"Great." He whispered sarcastically before turning back to the girl. "Well it was nice meeting you." This time he managed to sound friendlier before he turned around and left the room, expecting Lilly to follow. 

 

Lilly gave Katrina a smile, before saying "Good night Katrina.", while the shy girl responded with a nod of her head. Lilly followed Witchie out, "Bed room?" 

 

"Yes. Sorry, but this party wasn't much for me anyway." 

 

"I'm sorry that -" The disgusting noise of people throwing up could be heard downstairs, followed by the sound of broken glass and yelling. Lilly put her palm to her head and then led them to the bedroom.

 
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Gracchus

Anvil

Morning

 

Sitting at his desk, Gracchus pulled out a quill and ink pot and began writing the letter he finally had time to pen.

 

Dear Catia,

 

I'm sorry for my lack of writing, this trip has been so busy I just haven't had the time. Now that we're stopped in Anvil for another day or so, I have some time to write.

 

Our trips has been mostly uneventful, a few meetings with count's, but nothing really exciting. I'll tell you anyway, in case you are curious.

 

We stopped in Skingrad, and met with Count Bathory the second day. That was mostly for Theodre, as he had some business to conduct with the count. I stayed out of the way in the library. We left the next day, and made it to Kvatch, where Count Brutus threw us a party. Not one for the sort of revelry he conducted, I ended up engaging in pleasant conversation with Master Wizard Endar Drenim, of House Telvanni. He was researching a form of Khajit mage, and surprisingly I was able to assist him. We had a nice enough conversation, and in exchange for delivering a book to the court mage in Anvil, he have me a fire storm spell book. I've practiced the spell twice now, once between Kvatch and Anvil and again early this morning outside the city. Both times went well, but I have to cast it faster for it to be useful in battle. And build up my magicka reserves, since both times left me exhausted.

 

Well, I delivered that book to the court mage, an Orc named Borkar, and we ended up talking for several hours, just enjoying each other's company. Been a while since I've been able to do that with anyone besides you, so it was nice. If he stops by anytime soon, don't be surprised, as I recommended he meet with Imus if he's ever in the capital, as well as have a drink on me.

 

I received the letter you sent me as well, and was sad to learn that Tullius was killed and Jon branded a traitor. More and more of my friends are dying these days, it seems. Lorgar told me some other things, but I don't feel comfortable writing them down were someone else might see them. I can tell you this, that a marriage between the court mage and Dales could happen soon enough.

 

As for my trip, I suspect we will leave for Sentinel within a few days. I've requisitioned a navy ship, called the Dasher, that the High Admiral set aside for the trip. It's a simple enough ship, equipped with sail and oar, which sets off soon. It seems to live up to its billing, from what I could gather at, so the trip shouldn't be too long.

 

Now, enough about my situation, I want to know how things are going back home. Is mom okay? What exactly did Lorgar do to you? I miss you immensely, and await the day when there are no more wars, no more fighting, and we can just settle down, stay at home and enjoy each other.

 

Yours faithfully,

 

Gracchus

 

As Gracchus set the quill down, he bumped the ink pot, knocking it on to the letter from Lorgar. Even reacting as quickly as possible wasn't enough, as most of the letter was stained black. Fortunately, the bottom of the page detailing the traitorous generals was spared.

 

Probably for the best, he thought, there's no telling what Skjari would do to keep his secrets from getting out. At least I still have the evidence of those generals to present, of need be.

 

**

Dear Gracchus,

 

I was pleased to hear you trip has been going so well up to this point, and that the letter reached you.

 

As for the circumstances surrounding it, they were less than favorable. Milly, Lorgar's wife, had moved into the Fox recently, after being evicted by the guards. Her husband being a traitor, they didn't take kindly to her living in the Spymaster's manor anymore. While with us, she discovered she was pregnant. Around that time, a strange pale man visited us, informing her Lorgar would be arriving soon. And he did, the strange pale man returning as well. I was obviously angry at him, abandoning his wife like that and betraying the Empire. I gave him a verbal lashing, until the guards arrived to arrest him. He didn't want me indicted in helping him, so he knocked me out, then lied to your mom about what happened. He fled, with Milly, leaving the Fox somewhat worse for wear. While it was for my own safety, the fact he didn't just turn himself in is shameful, as he endangered me, your mom, Milly, and Milly's children. Suffice to say he's not a favorite of mine.

 

On a much better but slightly connected note, I've left the day to day operations of the Fox to Ena, while your mother and I moved to the estate outside the city. The furniture is set up now, and it's only lacking you to make it a home. I hired away one of the Fox's waitresses, who lived outside the city, as both a convenience to herself and to help me around the house. Along with her brother, the stable boy, they are very helpful.

 

Your mother says hello, but worries that with the war coming you may not be home often. I worry too, of course, and hope you don't dally in Hammerfell too long. Your trip does sound fascinating, and your penchant for making friends hasn't left you it seems. I'll tell Ena to look out for the Orc, so she knows to give him a round on us.

 

I hope you hurry home, honey, and wish you the best of luck on your trip.

 

Forever and always,

 

Catia

 

**

 

It was indeed a few days, and even more than expected, before the Dasher left. An unexpected squall hit Anvil, so Gracchus received Catia's letter just before the ship set sail.

 

Hurriedly penning a reply, he quickly jotted down,

 

Catia,

 

I'm boarding the ship now, just as your letter arrived, the captain, a fine young Redguard, assures me that the trip will take, at most, three weeks. Until then, or until I can pen a better reply, just know that I love you and wish I could spend every day for the rest of my life with you. I'll write to you the next chance I get.

 

With love,

 

Gracchus

 

Handing the letter to the courier, Gracchus tipped him more than probably necessary, as the final calls were made to board the ship. The Redguard captain shook his hand, and Theo's as the two men made their way across the gangplank and onto their home for the coming weeks.

 
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Rebec, Baldur

Windhelm

Morning, 6 a.m.

 

Howling winds and stinging cold cheeks greeted Baldur that day as he took his steps out of the palace on his way to the docks. It was a typical Windhelm morning for everyone except those who were boarding the Black Wisp. Or, those who've never been on their way to Hammerfell that is. Which was all of two people. Baldur and his mother. Regardless, the day felt special to him. It was the first day of his new adventure with Rebec to a strange land he'd never been to. He was leaning on the cold stone walls in his refurbished ancient Nord armor, arms crossed and tapping his feet while biting his lower lip, hoping that Rebec's crew would be done loading up the ship with supplies soon.

 

His eyes were not the only ones on her crew. The other nearby ships, pitiful in comparison, were all gawking at the ship, as they were ever since they arrived, but now with more envious eyes when they saw the Kyne kissed crew that was lucky enough to be boarding it. Ysana was with Baldur as well, arms folded and leaning on his shoulder resting her eyes while they waited. Baldur took a glance at her and leaned his head on hers. Poor ma, not used to the cold or waking up early it seems.

 

Growing tired of waiting, Baldur dropped his pack on his left shoulder and then sat Ysana down next to it to rest on while she waited for him and the others. Baldur made his way to a small nearby ship with a small crew making repairs on their boat. Stepping on board, Baldur said, "Hey, who's your captain?"

 

"I am," said a long haired blonde Nord in an eastern Skyrim accent. Baldur turned his head and smiled as he took a step towards him.

 

"Hello there. My name's Baldur. I'm about to board that ship and take a long journey to Hammerfell, but I've never been on a boat for so long. I was wondering if you could tell me if I should worry about anything." The men behind him recognized who he was and started to snicker when they heard that the Stormcloak general was a land lubber. The captain grinned too, but he raised his hand and signaled for them to get back to work.

 

"Aye, I can give you a tip. Uhh, let's see. One, when you start getting too far from the coast to where you can't see it, you may want to go inside. You won't understand it now, but when you see all that open space and no land around, somethin messes with your senses. Don't want that. Clean drinking water isn't in abundance, so you'll want to keep your liquids in, if you catch my drift."

 

"Yea, I think I get it. But if I intend on taking multiple trips, shouldn't I make myself get used to it?" Baldur asked.

 

"If you're not a milkdrinker, yea. I'd say get used to it now while you can. Some people never do. Land lubbin belly achers for life."

 

"I see. Say, where does your crew take journeys to?" asked Baldur.

 

"Uh, we usually take trips to Solstheim. But we've been....reluctant. To go there again. Strange things have been going on at that island. Very strange things. People at night there used to act..." the Nord froze for a minute and had a strange look in his eye, which made Baldur match the look in confusion. When he turned to look at the others, they diverted their eyes.

 

Turning back to the captain, Baldur said, "They act what?"

 

"Anyway, we don't have much choice in the matter. The ebony mines have started yielding ebony again, which means more business for us on that island. So we gotta go. Whatever was goin on there though seems to have stopped. This adventurer we took there I think dealt with whatever it was. Some strange mages or something attacked 'em when we brought them here. We brought the adventurer there to find out why. We don't even remember the trip..."

 

"How could you not remember the trip?" asked Baldur.

 

"I don't know. I don't know," he answered, staring at his feet as if he was trying to remember.

 

"Right. This adventurer. What did he or she look like?" Baldur asked. After the man gave a description, Baldur proclaimed, "That sounds a lot like the Dragonborn! Do you know where the Dragonborn went? It's important."

 

"The Dragonborn? Yea, sure. Anyway, no, I don't. Last time I saw the err, Dragonborn, was a long time back."

 

"Hmm. Well, thanks anyway. Nice talk, and thanks for the advice," said Baldur. Walking back to the spot where he left Ysana, Baldur started wondering where the hell the Dragonborn went again, but decided not to ponder on it more. Perhaps they could take a trip to Solstheim sometime and see if they could find the Dragonborn there.

 

***
This is a bad idea. Rebec had seen more than enough of mage work on her adventure at Morvunskar. When she agreed to take battlemages on board her ship, she had assumed it would take Fire-Hand a while to get someone assigned.

"This is a bad idea," Menel grumbled as he walked along behind the admiral. "Why do I always agree to these things?"

Rebec turned to look at the Bosmer. "Why do you?"

"I'm an amiable fellow, what can I say. That, or the gods are mocking me. Did my things get loaded on board your ship?"

"Yes, I'm sure we've got enough smoked hams and sausages to get you to Hammerfell and back ten times."

"That ought to be just enough then."

At least they both agreed that his accompanying the Black Wisp to Hammerfell was a stupid idea. Veleda had decided on the spur of the moment that supporting the navy was so important that someone else could handle garrisoning Morvunskar, so she had re-assigned her second to the admiral's crew. They walked along now with Vigge trailing behind, taking his sweet time.

Accompanying them was a blonde woman of about forty years, wearing a similar uniform as Rebec's. Sigrid Kovirsdottir was the vice admiral of Skyrim's navy. She had been an East Empire Company employee for many years, working sailing crews and shipping offices, and was friend to Jytta, Rebec's mother. That the daughter had risen to the admiralty was a surprise. Rebec had been something of a ne'er-do-well and unstable. By the time people had started calling her Hull-Breaker during the naval war; Sigrid's doubts had mostly been alleviated. They'd come back when Rebec ran off to Falkreath while that war was still going on, but once again, it was hard to argue with the outcome.

"I'll be heading to Solitude within the week myself," Sigrid said to Rebec, "And then I'll see to what we discussed about doing advance preparations at Northwatch. Uh, Kyne's Watch. By the time you get back, we should have at least the beginnings of a seawall and pier built at the fort. I'll get surveyors out to lay plans for the town, as well, but for the naval exercises, the fort should suffice."

Rebec nodded. "Good. I heard the Thalmor had a torture room? Leave it intact for now. I want everyone to see it."

They had reached the docks by then, and Rebec waved at Baldur and Ysana and then turned around and waited until Vigge came into sight. He was ambling along in his bent-over way, hands stuffed in his horker-skin slicker. Sailors he passed on the way called out greetings and he returned each one with an unintelligible mumble. His own dinghy was already lashed to the side of the Black Wisp, and he'd finally agreed to hitch a ride to Dawnstar on Rebec's fancy ship, though she hoped they might still convince him to come with them all the way to Hammerfell. Baldur started walking his way towards Rebec's group, but Ysana, half asleep stayed where she was.

 

"Ma, let's go. Time to board up."

 

"If I move, I'll get hit by all that wind. These crates are blocking it," she said shakily.

 

"Ma, act like a Nord why don't you. It's not that c-"

 

"You say it's not that cold and I'll kick your ass," she said. Baldur sighed, then reached into his pack and pulled out his General cape.

 

"Here. Use this. Now let's go! Soon, you'll be wishing for the cold when we get to Hammerfell."

 

"Somehow, I doubt that," she said as she wrapped herself in the cape and lagged behind him. As they walked towards the group, Baldur looked over at Menel with a raised eyebrow, wondering what he was doing following them. Surely Veleda couldn't get Rebec to let a mage on board. When he reached them, Baldur smiled to Rebec and then rubbed his hands excitedly.

 

"So this is it, eh? What's he doing here; Veleda gave you a barrel of mead or something?"

 

"What am I doing here, indeed," Menel said, walking past Baldur toward the ship. "A fine question, my good Nord. Philosophical, even."  He was still talking as he made his way toward the gangplank. Rebec looked after him and then shook her head.

 

"Gods, Baldur. Check my head. Is there a hole in it somewhere? Long story short, he's coming with us. Some plan of the queen's to convince me that battlemages are a good idea. I'm not sure the Bosmer was the way to go on that." Baldur looked back at the mer as he walked away and then turned back with a nostalgic look on his face.

 

"Bosmer have a way of surprising you. Don't worry, you'll get used to him. He's Veleda's second after all. I trust his skill."

 

"On the bright side, he won't make much of a splash when I pitch him overboard." Rebec turned to look what had become of Vigge. He was with a pair of older ship captains, one of them talking in a raised voice. This time it wasn't a fight over a tafl game, but commiserating over the higher port fees they were being charged now that harbormasters couldn't count on regular imperial traffic. "Papa!" Rebec had to shout in order to be heard over the others. She gestured toward the ship. Vigge acknowledged with a wave and kept on talking.

 

"Come on," she said, taking Baldur's arm. "He'll get the picture when we're pushing off."

 

"Come on, ma, we're boarding up. You can hide from Kyne's breath below decks." Ysana didn't waste time and ran ahead of them to board the ship. "Don't lose my cape!" Baldur yelled. "Hey, do you need me to talk to your father about Hammerfell? I bet I can convince him."

 

"You can try. I think it would do him good. Some time in the warmth and with his grandchildren. I always hated the thought of him alone in that house, but now moreso." Now, being that she herself wasn't alone, and didn't have the same pressure to always be out at sea that she had before.

 

"I think he'll come. After that whole Bard castle in the sky thing, I'm sure he'd rather come and watch out for you if he can rather than you going off two provinces around the coast so far away. Hey, what's that woman coming along with us for? The one with the matching coat."

 

"I wanted you to meet her before we set sail." Rebec caught Sigrid's attention and called her over. "Baldur, this is my vice admiral, Sigrid. She's the one who took over so that I could go lollygagging in Falkreath last year. And she'll be doing some advance work for us in Kyne's Watch while we're gone."

 

The vice admiral smiled and reached to shake Baldur's hand. "I've seen you around, but it's good we finally get to meet, High General."

 

"Just Baldur is fine among us high ranking officers. Still not used to the title yet," he said as he shook her hand. "So, I suppose you'll be kind of taking over while we're gone then. Must be fun, since usually people in your position don't have a big work load. Others may think you'd be annoyed, but there's nothing worse than having a position where you mostly sit on your hands. If it wasn't for Ulfric not having a large court, that's what I'd be doing."

 

Sigrid raised a brow. "I haven't exactly been sitting around."

 

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Rebec said, "He didn't mean it that way. The navy doesn't have a lot of officers like the army does, Baldur. It's basically just Sigrid and me above the captains. She's been training recruits and keeping our auxiliaries paid."

 

"They've got the Vice Admiral out training recruits? I only train recruits because I choose to. That's why I think you guys ought to focus on hiring professional sailors for officer spots rather than for just basic crew members. They'd be more willing to take you up on the job offer then. Otherwise, there'd be no reason for them to take a pay drop. Anyway, I didn't mean to offend. That just goes to show you that even though the navy's getting more recognition, we're still not quite where we should be at. I think Nords forget that Ysgramor couldn't have made a successful reoccupation without a navy to get his men here in the first place."

 

"The navy's costing Ulfric a lot of money already. You got to build from the ground up. Anyway, I guess we should be off, I see Mazoga waving." Rebec clapped a hand on Sigrid's arm in farewell.

 

"Have a good trip, both of you. I'll be interested to hear what the redguard navy is doing."

 

"Me too," Rebec agreed.

 

"It'll cost him a lot more if we have to start raising pay just to get basic quality recruits. I say get what we can cheap and put the good money in the hands of those such as yourselves who can train the others and spread their knowledge. It'll cost us now, but it will pay off in the long run. You know that old saying, 'Give a poor man a fish and he can eat for a day, teach him to fish and he can eat for a lifetime?' Same thing applies to our military. Better to be able to teach our own men than pay for those who are already taught. But, I'm not an admiral, so you two would know better than I. Nice speaking to you, Vice Admiral," said Baldur.

 

Vigge shuffled past, ignoring both of them, and started climbing the gangplank. By the time Rebec and Baldur boarded, he was growling orders at passing crew. Mazoga came up to them.

 

"Morning, boss. General." She glanced over at Vigge. "Have I been replaced and you didn't tell me?" The orc's tone was amused.

 

"Ugh, no. Papa never could get used to me being captain."

 

"Eh, no offense to him or you, but it's probably time he learns, love. This is your ship," said Baldur.

 

"You try telling him that. Give me a hand here." Rebec gestured at the gangplank and bent down to pull it in. When that was finished, she signaled for the ground crew to cast them off and went to the steering. To some crewmen tying up loose rigging, she said, "Get below and man the oars. We're leaving."

 

"But your father said..." The sailor stopped at the expression on the captain's face and shrugged, gesturing to his companion to come along.

 

Rebec rang the bell and called, "Ahead easy!" There was a pause while the oarsmen got their act together, the ship drifting a little in Windhelm's icy wind, and then the Wisp surged out into the bay.

 

Baldur was standing at the rail towards the back of the ship to give Rebec some space to be Captain, and also to watch as their shadow ship trailed behind them. He didn't want to at first, but thought it important that they brought a backup team of men this time in case they ran into any more corrupt guards, or any trouble in general in Hammerfell. It was a smaller ship, holding twenty of his Necro Nords acting as guards for him and Rebec. They'd come in handy also if they ran into pirates and boarding was necessary. Baldur doubted that pirates were used to heavily armed soldiers, or that they were equipped to deal with them effectively if they encountered them.

 

He considered having them on the Black Wisp, but thought it best that his men and Rebec's stay separate. Since soldiers and sailors don't traditionally get along well. He was starting to regret that now, however, being the only land lubber besides his mother around. And maybe the elf too. One of the crew asked him to help them belay, but Baldur of course had no idea what the hell that meant. The man laughed and signaled for one of his buddies to help him. When he did, the two took some rope and secured some crates by tying it to metal rings on the rail, which Baldur finally guessed is what he meant. It was like coming back to Skyrim from Bruma all over again. Or joining the Stormcloaks for the first time.

 

Rebec guided the ship out to the open sea and then called a halt so they could wait for their convoy ships to catch up. She let them get a bit ahead and then called for the sail to be raised. The ship picked up speed as the sail filled out. When she had set a course, Rebec left the steering in Mazoga's care and went over to Baldur. "It's like a second date. A little easier than the first. The Wisp and I are feeling each other up, still haven't gotten really comfortable."

 

"Uh, should I be jealous of the ship?" he said teasingly.

 

"I don't know, but let's hope she's not jealous of you," Rebec answered, grinning. "I said I'd pitch the elf overboard, not you."

 

"I heard that!" Menel's voice came from somewhere behind a crate, where he was sulking.

 

Baldur turned to the elf's direction and said, "Ah don't worry Menel. We won't throw you. If you're anything like my old Bosmer friend, you'd likely make Solitude a poor city by eating all the fish."

 

"Fish is disgusting," came the indignant reply.

 

Rebec laughed. "No wonder we had to load twenty pigs worth of meat." Shaking her head, she pointed east. "It's clear enough today to see Red Mountain. Poor bastards over there are still getting dumped with ash."

 

"They were always getting dumped with ash. Of course, it's more so now. Must have been pretty damn bad if we of all people offered refuge," said Baldur. "Hey, I was talking to a sailor back at the docks. Told me some strange tale of mages from Solstheim going after the Dragonborn. Storm-Blade could be on that island. Want to take a trip there on our way back and see?"

 

"Solstheim isn't on our way back. And I don't want anything to do with any dragonborn or mages."

 

"I heard that!"

 

Baldur turned around, finally tired of the whining and said, "Oh stick a sausage in it and hush already! I thought Veleda said her mages weren't whiners."

 

"I don't mind if I do."  There was the sound of a crate being opened.

 

Rebec, ignoring the elf, craned her head around. "Where's your ma?"

 

"She's below decks hiding from the cold and using it as an excuse to huddle and flirt with some old sailor. I doubt he minds the distraction. And Vigge? I haven't heard him bossing around anyone for a bit. You need to teach me some of this sailor lingo by the way. What the hell's a chantey?"

 

"Ask the boys to sing you one. Maybe you can write us a new one. They..."  Behind her, she heard her father's voice, berating a crewman and ordering him to go secure cargo in the hold. Rebec turned back to Baldur. "You were saying about my father...? Hold on. I have to deal with this."

 

Approaching Vigge, Rebec stood with hands on her hips and said, "Papa, whose ship is this?" At his blank look, she went on, "Say it. I want to hear you say it." The old man mumbled a curse and threatened to put her over his knee, at which Rebec jammed a finger in his chest. "It's MY ship. You don't order my crew around. If I need your help, I'll ask for it. Now get belowdecks and keep Baldur's ma company. Make sure she's alright and ask her if she wants a hot drink. GO."

 

The sailor grumbled some more, but it didn't hide his half smile, and he obeyed. Baldur had followed to watch the scene, but not too close, so Rebec would be seen correcting Vigge on her own. When Vigge was sent on his way, he walked back with her now, then said, "Nice job, Captain. We'll see how long that will last."

 

"One of us needs to sneak below in a few minutes and see if he's actually doing it. And if he's managed to utter actual syllables talking to your ma. I've never thought of him as shy before, but I don't think he knows what to say to her. Alright, I need to go inspect the ship and make sure everything's humming. Still don't trust all this new equipment." Rebec leaned up and kissed Baldur's cheek, whispering, "We can inspect the captain's quarters tonight. Test out the soundness of the bed."

 

With a wink, she left him and started climbing up the mast rigging to check the sail ties. Her husband was still standing where he was, smiling at the thought and cursing her for making him anxious now. It was still morning and night was a long ways away, so he needed to find ways to keep himself busy. There didn't seem to really be much for him to do on the ship. Every time someone asked him to do something, he didn't even know what it meant. Baldur sighed and then decided he'd just walk around and see what he could learn. But first...

 

"Hey, Menel! Toss me one of those sausages, eh? I'm starving." Menel poked his head up from behind the crates. He looked dubiously from his sausage to Baldur and back.

 

"Alright, fine." Reaching into a crate, he fished out another sausage and tossed it at the general, walking towards him and gesturing with his own half-eaten link. "I don't know why the ships don't stock these anyway. Salt cod and hard tack? What sort of sustenance is that? Meanwhile these little babies are compact, pre-cooked, durable, delicious..." Baldur wasn't expecting the mer to come out and speak to him, but he wasn't surprised it happened over talk of food.

 

Deciding to stay a moment, Baldur took a bite of the sausage, then said, "It's because it's cheaper I'd imagine. How much did all this cost you?"

 

"Cost is no object. Actually the crown paid for it, so I don't know. But cost is still no object." Menel looked up at Rebec, who was by then at the top of the mast and had her spyglass out. Gesturing with his sausage, the Bosmer said, "Nice ass. That's one thing I'll say for the Nords. The hind quarters are quality." Baldur didn't think about what he was doing, but before he knew it, he swept his boot under the mer's feet and sent him on his back. The angered General then grabbed the little mer up by his collar and pulled him up to his face level off his feet. There wasn't visible anger in it, but the sternness in his voice gave him away.

 

"You watch what you say about my wife."

 

"Hey- what-" The Bosmer was prone and then hovering before he knew what had happened. He stared at Baldur, then shoved him- which was not easy to do when he was suspended in the air- and said, "Put me down, you big oaf."

 

"Oh I'll put you down alright. After all, that's what we Nords do. We pick things up..." Baldur grabbed Menel's leg while still holding his collar and lifted him over his head, then walked over to the crate of sausages.

 

"Not the sausages!" There was true panic in Menel's voice now.

 

"And put them down!" yelled Baldur as he dropped Menel face first into the crate. Afterwards, he grabbed two more sausages, thought better of it, then grabbed a third and closed the crate. Afterwards, he picked up another sausage crate and put it over the one Menel was in and yelled, "You'll stick to talking about sausages if you know what's good for you!"

 

Muffled, very unhappy shouts and knocking ensued, then silence. Finally Menel shouted through an air hole, "I am very sorry, oh general sir. Now will you kindly let me out?" By that time Rebec had returned to the deck and came up to Baldur.

 

"What's going on? Is that... the elf inside that crate?"

 

Baldur turned to Rebec with a disciplined face of a soldier, then saluted her and said, "Just teaching this soldier here some respect and military decorum. I overheard him disrespecting a superior officer, namely you. So, I corrected it, ma'am. It won't happen again. Right, Menel?"

 

The muffled reply was, "Yes. Yes, absolutely. Sir."

 

Rebec looked from the crates to Baldur and back. "What did you say, elf?" There was a long pause.

 

"I'd... rather not repeat it."

 

"Up to you if you want to make him repeat it. I'd rather you not. I can't guarantee I won't throw the crate overboard," said Baldur factually.

 

"Well you tell me, then," she said. Baldur looked to Rebec and paused for a moment, feeling slightly awkward since now he thought maybe he overreacted.

 

Sighing first, he said, "He was commenting on your hind quarters to me while you were up on the ropes."

 

"Commenting positively or negatively?" Rebec asked, eying the crate.

 

"What?" Baldur said, clearly confused.

 

Going back to the source, Rebec said, "Do you like my hind quarters, elf, or were you calling them fat?" There was a muffled groan.

 

"You promise to let me out if I tell you? Fine. I said you had a nice ass. I didn't know... Never mind. Let me out, please." Chuckling, Rebec gestured with her head for Baldur to do it.

 

"Let's not throw him overboard just yet," said Rebec. Baldur reluctantly shuffled forward and shoved the crate off so he could open the lid. Afterwards, he kicked the second crate over, dumping Menel out along with his sausages that now covered him. Menel greedily grabbed at the links rolling this way and that on the pitching deck, and stuffed them back into the crate, then grabbed his staff. He didn't go so far as to point it at Baldur, but held it in defensive posture in front of him. 

 

With the other hand, he straightened his armor, grumbling, "Jealous husbands. Should've remembered that part from..."

 

Rebec pointed at him. "Right. I'm the captain. No more such comments in front of my crew or my husband. Fire-Hand told me you were a professional, now start acting like it."

 

"I.... Yes. Yes, sir."

 

Going on, she said, "This is exactly what I was talking about with the lollygaggers. No time like the present then." Turning, Rebec whistled to summon her crew and waited while they assembled on the deck from various parts of the ship. When they were all there, she shouted to be heard. "Listen up. You all know my husband, High General Red-Snow. Stop your snickering. As you know, he'll be sailing with us for the foreseeable future, so we're going to take advantage of that. While we're at sea and not on oars, I'm splitting you up into three groups. One rotation will do ship duty, the other weapons practice, and one at-ease. When the general's available, he'll be working with you on weapons and block, and you're to work on crossbow and PT when he's not. I left a portion of the deck clear of cargo for just this purpose, so it's costing us money. That means it's your asses if you slack off on this. Got it? Good. I'll post the rotations shortly. Dismissed."

 

Baldur was surprised Rebec gave him a job. He didn't feel very useful on a ship and was grateful to have something useful to do besides stare at the scenery, which was quite nice at the moment. Mainly Red Mountain, and the distant clouds that settled around it, or ash. But without a purpose, he felt like dead weight. Like one of the crates. Especially being the Captain's husband. Privileged, while others were working. Of course, now that was different. Baldur leaned in and whispered to her. "How rough can I be with them? You load up any practice weapons by any chance? I had the army stop using wooden weapons and switched to regular dulled blades."

 

"We've got our own practice weapons stored below, but if you want others we'll have to take them on in Solitude. And you can be as rough with them as you want. Nobody gets coddled around here. But for a couple new ones, they all got a close-up view of naval warfare this year, so they're motivated. I'm going to go get the rotation sheets. Take it easy on the elf." She gestured with her head, grinning. "He just needs to admire while keeping his mouth shut."

 

"He can admire my boot in his ass. Because that's where it's going to be planted for the remainder of the day. Do me a favor and keep his rotation with me. I'll need an....'assistant'. Someone to demonstrate with. You understand," said her husband with a malicious glare, soon matched with his best attempt at a smile.

 

"Baldur." Rebec gave him a warning look. "He's the queen's second, remember. And it was just a harmless comment. If you're going to turn hagraven every time someone says something about my ass, this is going to be a long trip. Sailors, remember." The thought made her nervous suddenly. Baldur suddenly started looking around the ship as though he was surrounded by enemies, but he realized she was right. Still, if there was going to be any of that, he wanted them to be wary of saying it around him.

 

Taking a breath first, he said, "I promise, it's merely a way to teach the mer some discipline. After all, if he chucks spells as carelessly as he chucks comments about your ass, this will be a short trip. Very short."

 

Sighing and shaking her head, Rebec checked in with Mazoga, then went down below. Vigge and Ysana hadn't emerged when she summoned the crew, and she found them sitting against the wall holding mugs of warm cider. They were talking, or rather Ysana was talking. Rebec paused in front of them. "Everything alright?" Ysana was of course the first person to speak when she neared them, glad to have someone more responsive around.

 

"Oh yes, we're fine. I was just telling Vigge here about the time when we had a Thalmor actually come up to our temple. Needless to say, he didn't get very good service from our girls. There was a broom stick involved, some yelling, Hulga got involved. You remember Hulga. Apparently Thalmor don't like broom sticks. Oh well. I don't have to tell you they didn't try coming back."

 

Rebec grinned and glanced at her father, wondering what he thought about such a ribald description of Dibellan rituals. The old sailor's expression was inscrutable. "Papa, tell one of your stories. He's got some good ones. Uh... maybe not that good. I've got to get to it; we'll be hitting the Winterhold shoals soon."

 

When she came back out, Vigge was intoning about a whale hunt in which he'd been swallowed whole and spit back up on the shore.

 

"Wow, that's quite the tale," Ysana said, trying to stifle her chuckles. "Sounds like one of the tales my son spins. You know the other day he tried convincing me that he married a hagraven? At first I thought he was making a joke about you, but no. Silly man. He had too many meads I think."

 

"Ha ha, the hag. Only..." She glanced between the two. Was this really something her pa and Baldur's ma ought to hear? Not a chance. "He gets nightmares about hagravens sometimes, that's all. He told me that story, too, first time we properly met. Must've made an impression."

 

"You need any help, pup?" Vigge stirred.

 

"NO. I mean, no thank you, papa. You sit there and tell Ysana what a sweet daughter I was." Rebec left them again and went up to post the duty rosters.

 

As they neared Winterhold, she took the steering back from Mazoga and the crew had to man oars. By the time they were once again in open sea, Menel's sausages were being handed around for the midday meal, much to the elf's protest.

 

***

Baldur was standing in front of his first group of trainees, weapons handed out to them by Baldur's assistant, Menel. When he was still angry, he planned on putting the mer through the ringer, but seeing Rebec's nervous face at his jealousy made him feel childish and guilty over the whole ordeal, so he just wanted to forget about it and move on. The elf probably would have just made the others laugh and be unable to focus anyway. Despite Veleda's words, he didn't seem much like a soldier to him. Baldur's group was small, only ten men for now on the first rotation, which was fine, as he could give more direct instruction.

 

"Well, there's no need for an introduction I suppose. You know who I am already and what the deal is. So, before I can start training you, I need to know what you can do." One of the sailors, an old Nord with long black hair and a braided beard, probably older than Baldur, raised his practice blade. "Yes, what is it?" Baldur asked.

 

"I don't suppose in order to do that; you'll be fighting with us?"

 

"Yes, that's the easiest way to judge your skill. Why?" asked Baldur.

 

"No offense to you, lass, but yer lookin a bit green," said the old sailor, snickering a little with the others after he said it. Baldur raised a brow, but considered how he was feeling. It was true that the moving of the boat was starting to get to him and his stomach was unsettled.

 

"Don't worry about me. I just need to get used to this shaking. Not used to being on anything but solid ground. Now, who's up first?"

 

"You fighting in all that armor?" asked a Khajiit sailor this time.

 

Sighing, Baldur said, "Yes, why?"

 

"You don't expect to be able to keep up in your condition and wearing that, do you?"

 

"I wear armor heavier than this usually on a normal day and could probably take on several of you. But, if you don't want the handicap, fine." Truth be told, Baldur was more affected by the motion of the boat than he wanted to admit. Normally his boast would be true, but now he needed to be light. Baldur removed the breast plate from over his head and placed the ancient armor down by the chest where the practice weapons came from, leaving his gauntlets and kilt on. "Okay, if there are no more..." Baldur took a moment to pause, as the Khajiit's head moving unaccording to the horizon thanks to the ship sent a drop in his gut. "If there are no more questions, let's begin. Volunteers?"

 

The Khajiit stepped forward with a steel practice sword and shield, while Baldur had two practice iron axes and his new Nordic Carved shield with the axes and red snowflake, which he called Red-Snow's Rampart, covering his back scars. They circled around for a few seconds on the deck and then Baldur shouted begin, letting the Khajiit know to give him all he had. Just about as soon as the cat heard be- in begin, he was already on Baldur with a sword going towards his head. Baldur saw two swords coming at him, but didn't let that keep him from side stepping the attack and sending an attack of his own to the cat's chest, which he blocked.

 

Baldur followed up with a few more attacks that the cat parried pretty effectively. The sailors Rebec had weren't green it seemed, unlike his face apparently, so that was less work for him. While he pondered this, the cat spun, slapping Baldur in the face with his tail, then following up with spinning strikes from his shield and sword. Baldur expected this as soon as the tail met his face, having fought Khajiits and Argonians before, and fell on his back as if knocked down, then sent his feet shooting into the cat's leather tunic. However, he wasn't knocked down, just knocked back before landing skillfully on his paws.

 

"We Khajiit have excellent balance," said the cat whilst grinning as Baldur hopped up to his feet off his back. He wobbled a bit when he landed, but he regained his balance and pressed the attack. The Khajiit continued to parry his strikes for a few moments, even seeming to push Baldur back. The Khajiit was clearly enjoying himself, laughing while the fight went on. "Hahahaha, perhaps it is I that can teach you a few things, eh, General?"

 

Baldur gave him a smile that quickly faded when he felt his stomach churn on him. Suddenly, it felt like something was trying to come up, then his vision started to get worse. Feeling the motion beneath his feet, Baldur paused and closed his eyes to feel it and try to get used to it as the ship moved. The cat saw this and, being a sailor took full advantage. Seeing a nearby barrel, the cat tipped it over and rolled it towards Baldur's feet. "Don't they teach you soldier boys not to take your eyes off the enemy?"

 

Baldur heard the roll and hopped over it in time, eyes still closed. Before he landed, the cat was already fast approaching him. When he did land, he could hear his clawed paws racking on the wood quickly. When he was near, Baldur's eyes shot open, then he sent a furious boot shot towards him, which the Khajiit just barely blocked with his shield. The kick made the cat's shield hit his lip however, catching him off guard. Seeing this, Baldur pressed the attack, putting much more strength into his strikes than he did before, which surprised the Khajiit since he thought they were of equal strength. Suddenly, Baldur, having the cat thoroughly used to his pattern of attack since the sailor could only block at the moment, quickly fell on one knee and slammed his practice axe on the cat's exposed paw, which caused him to hiss out in pain and bow his head, which Baldur soon upper cut with his fist whilst still holding the axe.

 

Angered, the cat recovered and then ran towards Baldur at full speed, which was considerable. Baldur felt the ship tilt forward now, which made his stomach dip once more, but more importantly it sent the same barrel rolling towards him. Baldur looked back and hopped on it as it came, then rolled it forward with his feet towards the cat. Before he came too close, the cat thinking he would kick the barrel at him, hopped in the air as well. Only Baldur didn't kick it at him. Instead, he leaped towards the cat, legs before him ready to spring out. Before the cat knew what hit him, Baldur's boots met his chest, and he was on his back with one of his ancient boots pinning him to the ship's deck.

 

Before the cat could try and strike at Baldur again, Baldur put an axe in front of his face, signifying the spar was over. "Okay. Who's next?" The other sailors who were cheering on the cat were silent now, but they all raised their hand, eager to prove their mettle, and to learn. Baldur was glad of that and smiled encouragingly, but suddenly he dropped his weapons and covered his mouth. "Shit, hold that thought!" he said in a muffled voice. Quickly, Baldur pushed past the sailors towards the rail, one boot up on the lower rail to lean his head clear over as he hurled out chunks of sausage into the Sea of Ghosts. After the first launch, he could hear the men behind him laughing, but before he could say anything, the ship hit a wave and made Baldur cast out another wave of vomit in response. Waiting in that position for a bit to make sure he was done, Baldur finally wiped his mouth and then walked back to the men.

 

"You alright there, Red-Snow?" asked the old Nord, still laughing.

 

"Much better now, yes. It was that damn sausage I tell you. Oh sure, laugh it up. Guess what? You're next."

 

***

 

That evening when they neared Dawnstar, Rebec tried one more time to convince Vigge to come with them the rest of the way. "You don't have to be useful anymore, Papa! We just want you with us."

 

"No you don't," the sailor growled. "Now lower my boat so I can go home." Baldur came around to the two after he and another sailor placed the training weapons from earlier back below deck. Baldur wiped his nose and then stood next to Vigge.

 

"What's this about leaving? I thought you were coming to my castle in the sky." Vigge glanced at him and snorted.

 

"That where you keep your hagraven wife?" Baldur raised an eyebrow, then looked at Rebec, but quickly looked back to Vigge.

 

"Uh, you must've been talking with ma. Just another one of my bard tales. Anyway, what do you think you're doing?"

 

"I'm going home and I don't need your permission," said Vigge. Rebec made a sound of disgust and shouted over at some crew to lower the sail and anchor, and to signal the other ships that they were making a halt.

 

Baldur lifted his hand, then said, "Hold up on that boat. Can we at least talk about it first, man to man? I was looking forward to you taking the trip with us. After all, you give my ma someone to talk to. Why don't you want to stay? Don't you want to see your grandkids?"

 

"I'm too old for this shit. If Vilnur wants to see me, he'll come home like a normal Nord."

 

"Too old for what? Enjoying a nice cruise to Hammerfell? Old man, you're going. If my ma can handle it, so can you. Rebby and I want you to come. You won't do anyone any good waiting to die by yourself in that house."

 

Rebec could see that Vigge was weakening. "Papa, if you want to work, you can sit with the crew that's at ease and tell them your stories about sailing. It'll be good training for them. The dog's with your friends in town, right? You got nothing to mope around in that empty house for." Then she went for the kill. "You always told me family came first and that I was too independent. Where do you think I got that, you old fool? That's what you're doing now. Come see the boys and Suri before they're on their own and scattered to who knows where."

 

He softened at that. The sight of Suri so grown up had both made him feel time slipping away, even if the days without Jytta seemed long, and the nights longer. Rebec, to save his pride, didn't wait for an answer, just took his arm and led him away from the rail. "False alarm," she called to the crew. "We head on to Solitude." She glanced back and smiled gratefully at Baldur. He returned the smile and then went back to the rail when Ysana finally poked her head from under the ship. "Son? What's that I heard about Vigge? Is he leaving?"

 

"No, of course not. Who could ever want to leave a ship when you're on board, eh?" Baldur grinned at her before welcoming her over to look at the tower in the distance near Dawnstar. "Say ma, you didn't feel sick at all today from the ship?"

 

"No, not at all. Unlike you, I actually listened to the advice that man gave you and stayed below the ship to avoid that. Now, I think I'll be alright." Ysana put an arm around his waist and leaned on his side. Baldur returned the hug with his right arm and rested his head on hers. "Thanks again for letting me come, son. I know you had your doubts."

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"Oh come on. I heard the way you said you didn't think sailor life was for me," she said, somewhat ashamedly. He was talking about her Dibellan ways, she knew it.

 

"Don't be silly, I was just worried for you, not about you. I'm glad I let you come too." Rebec took Vigge to the hold and was going to get him settled with a bunk, but some crewmen were playing cards and challenged him to a game, which he couldn't resist. She felt better knowing he would fall in with sailor talk and probably forget he'd put up a fuss at all. Emerging back on the deck, Rebec conferred with Mazoga about the night's duty assignments, then came over to where Baldur and Ysana stood at the rail.

 

"How are the landlubbers doing?"

 

"Just fine," Baldur said, turning to face her. "These sailors are a rough bunch. Fighting nothing but recruits lately means I've fallen out of practice, so I had a little more fun training. Not Necro Nords, but they're not bad." Baldur looked around the ship, then said, "Where's Menel?"

 

"Sulking somewhere, probably," she answered. "I don't know what the queen was thinking, sending him with us." Rebec laid a hand on Ysana's arm. "Any of the crew bothers you, ma, you tell me, alright?"

 

"Of course, daughter-in-law. But I'll be fine. I can handle myself. You just focus on your ship, dear. Any more of those sausages left?"

 

Baldur put a hand on his mother's shoulder and said, "Uh, maybe we should go easy on Menel's food supply. I think I should talk to him. He's not the only one that needs to put up an effort to make this work. We need mages for this navy."

 

"There are honey cakes left down in the galley area. We're not as food poor as the elf likes to say. Not like we're going to be out in the ocean for weeks. You might look for Menel down in the hold too, if you want to talk to him. It's warmer down there." Turning back to Ysana, Rebec said, "Sorry if my pa's a bit gruff. He's a good man, just very... Nord." Baldur leaned in and kissed Ysana on the forehead and left the two to talk alone, while he set off to find Menel. She smiled in response and then waited for him to leave before she spoke.

 

"He's fine. He's just a little unsure of himself, I think. I think I remind him of his wife, or something. Maybe just speaking to a woman period reminds him of her. He'll come around. Baldur said her name was Jytta, right? Was she named after that Captain in Solitude? The one they said the High King made that bridge for to sneak her in?"

 

Rebec laughed. "No, and Mama hated it if people brought that up. I imagine they were both named for a woman from Atmora, a descendant of Rebec the Red. We're probably related to that captain, though. I think Papa doesn't know what to do with you because he's not sure yet about me and Baldur. To say that I didn't get along with my in-laws before, well... And my parents picked up on that, so they weren't crazy about Toki's family, either. This all is still pretty new for him. Me and Baldur, I mean."

 

Ysana was quiet for a moment, turning back to the rail to look at the snow veiled coast as they passed by. Eventually, she said, "Yes, I asked him about that. He told me he had his doubts. He said that you were crazy for this Toki as well. I didn't want to think on it, for Baldur's sake. I was a little defensive and said it didn't seem like it to me. Judging from how you talked about him. I said he should ask about that book of his if he has doubts, but..."

 

Ysana gave another pause and then turned back to Rebec. "I don't know if his worry is with my boy, or...nevermind. It's none of my business." Ysana averted her eyes from Rebec, down to her feet. She looked up slightly to see if Rebec would press her or not. Rebec was about to make some excuse about the ship and walk away, but the thought of Baldur rooted her there.

 

"What were you going to say?" Ysana wasn't sure still that it was her place to ask. In fact, she was sure that it wasn't, but she supposed that it was already out there.

 

"I'm sorry for asking this. You haven't given me a reason to ask this question. It's just that after hearing about this Toki and how that all turned out, then how things turned out with my boy...Baldur hasn't told me specifics, but I get the feeling he and Ulrin were at more odds than just being on separate sides of the war. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is...do you really love him? I just don't want him to be more hurt than what he already was." Rebec's tension eased a little. This was an easier question than to explain what went wrong with Toki.

 

"Ulrin hurt him bad. What I feel for him... I don't think love covers it. Can't really explain."  She was tempted to leave it at that, but tried to push further. "It's like... he's me and I'm him. We're pretty different, and we're still learning about each other, but we're one body. You sometimes don't know your own body, right? Still, nothing's closer to you. It's like that." She stopped, figuring it had come out as tangled and inadequate as it sounded to her own ears. "Anyway, to my pa, I guess it would look similar to how I was with Toki. I know it's different, though. I was a kid then, more excited about the idea of a man than really being with one."

 

Ysana expected to hear what she wanted to hear, yet she still sighed in relief when she heard it. "Thank you. You didn't have to explain yourself to me, but I'm glad you trust me enough to do so anyway. I wish I could say I understand it, but truth be told, I don't. Ulrin and I never got to be that close. Didn't get that far. However, being in love with the idea of a man, that I can understand. But enough of that. I'd like to talk with you about more than just my son. Like, sailing for instance. I've heard about your skill with a ship. How does a sea merchant learn to fight in naval battles?"

 

Relaxing, Rebec laughed again. "By fighting. I don't want to scare you, but the Abecean is thick with pirates and the Sea of Ghosts not much better. There's some who'll say I'm not much better than a pirate myself, but that's because I wasn't about to sit back and hope they'd go away. I hunted some of them, even. So what the imps' navy does for them- supposed to, anyway- I've been doing all along. The biggest change is on shore. The uniforms and saluting and all that. Baldur helped me with that stuff."

 

"It's funny; Baldur didn't strike me as someone who'd do well with taking orders. Neither did his father. He seems so...I don't know, defiant? Proud, maybe. Seeing him around the King was like seeing two grown bears of equal size in the same room, not fighting. Which as you know, bears are territorial. I got the same impression from you, so I was a little surprised to hear you two were military types. As for pirates, I'm not afraid with you captaining the ship, after all the stories I've heard. Your crew's pretty talkative. I've heard stories of pirates as a girl too. Peg legs, talking Macaws and so forth. Ever see anything like that before?"

 

Rebec said, "Ha, that's just tales. Sailors like horkershit even more than your average Nord, especially if it makes them sound interesting. Ship captain's a job like any other. Not much glamor to it. You ever been to High Rock or Hammerfell?"

 

"No, just Markarth. My mother raised me in Markarth on her own. I don't know, maybe that was part of the reason why I didn't immediately run off with Ulrin like he asked. I think I was afraid to leave. Baldur didn't get his adventurous spirit from me. It took everything in me to leave that temple and follow you two to Solitude. I'm glad I did though. So, think we'll see any pirates on our way to Hammerfell? If so, I think I should probably wear something other than these robes."

 

"Maybe if we have a priestess on board, it'll scare 'em. Sailors are funny like that. I won't lie; they could take a poke at us. Now that trade's back on, they probably think it's fat pickings, and they won't know we aren't merchant ships until they get up close."  Rebec paused, then went on more seriously, "I'm glad you came, too. I don't think you know how much it means to Baldur to have you in his life. Sometimes he's like... it's like there's a little boy inside who wants to be held. Don't tell him I said so, he'd be embarrassed."

 

"Heh, yea I can sense that sometimes. But when I try to be motherly and hold him, it just feels strange. Forced, almost. I suppose I just don't feel like I have a right to that role anymore. But I try anyway. But he's a man now. He won't let me hold him, really hold him. At least not for too long. But he has you for that now. You know him better than I do, after all. You're closer." Ysana said this in an almost jealous or regretful manor that slightly surprised herself. "Not that I hold that against you, of course."

 

"I can never be his mother. Maybe he'll..." She stopped as she was about to say that he might understand Ysana better when they had their own kids. "Well. Best not to talk about what may be."  Rebec looked over her shoulder at the sound of crossbow bolts thwacking into targets. Her men had taken her orders seriously. They were a good crew. She looked for character and discipline first, since those couldn't be taught. "Anyway, I'd better get back to it, ma. I hung a cloth around your bunk, so no one will bother you."

 

Ysana knew a part of her wished that Rebec wasn't right about her never being able to replace her. It felt overwhelming sometimes, trying to fit this role long overdue. Especially when her son went from a baby to a man and she never knew an in between. In a way, she could tell she hoped that Rebec was a way out. The thought made her feel low. She loved her son, but she just didn't know how to proceed with him. Turning around to the rail again, Ysana said, "Right, thank you dear. You have a good night's rest."

 

***

"Menel? It's Baldur. You down here somewhere?" Baldur was creeping around the lower deck which was dark at the moment, going slowly so as not to miss the mer. "I know you're down here." There was a groan from a pallet against the side of the hold.

 

Menel got to his feet, saluted wearily, and said, "More weapons practice?" He still smelled like sausages.

 

"By practice, you mean letting the others bang on your shield without retaliating? Ha, no. Not at the moment anyway. I just wanted to talk. That okay?" Menel regarded him suspiciously.

 

"Define 'talk.' Does this involve being hoisted bodily somewhere?"

 

Baldur started to laugh and then said, "With all your sausage talk, you make me think that's what you want. Err, not that I'm offering."

 

"Well that's a relief. What is it that you would like to talk about, general, sir?" Baldur was going to tell him to just call him by his first name, but he forgot Menel was a Stormcloak.

 

"How about an apology first? I admit that I may have...overreacted. A lot. I guess. So, sorry about the crate thing. I take it you didn't know she was my wife?"

 

"Uh... I did, actually." Menel took a step back, just in case, though the ship's hull prevented another. "I don't suppose it helps if I say I don't usually sleep with women. I do admire their... Well. If you say bygones can be bygones, who am I to argue."

 

Baldur's eyes narrowed at the elf, then he said, "In what world do you think it's okay to say that in front o-, nevermind. As you said. Bygones. You got the message. Heh, guess I was right about you and sausages then. Anyway, what I was going to ask you before that little incident is, what exactly can you do? What are your talents? If we better understood that, I could better relay the advantages of having you on board to the Captain."

 

"You want to talk magic? Fine. I'm an illusionist by trade, and alteration. I can move things, levitate them. I can make enemies fight each other instead of you for a short time, or turn them non-hostile. Since I joined the Night Watchmen, I trained in destruction and restoration. I don't know why Veleda... Her Majesty... sent me. I should be training apprentices and one of those should be here."

 

Baldur said, "Well, for one, an apprentice won't do very good to promote mages to the High Admiral, since their usefulness is limited. Looks better if a specialist like you is put on display. Your position here is a political one, which tells me Veleda either still doesn't understand her power, or just respects Rebec enough not to step on her toes. Then again, maybe it's us who don't understand her power yet. It's not clear whether Ulfric would go over her head if Rebec wasn't comfortable with mages or not. Perhaps she'd rather not find out."

 

"This is a diplomatic mission, isn't it? Maybe I'm supposed to soothe the savage beast if your negotiations go sour. As for the dispute over mages on ships, I'm going to stay out of it. Political bullshit doesn't belong in a war, but that seems like all we ever wade through, said Menel.

 

Baldur said, "Well, it's a good thing that Rebec likely agrees. You don't need to convince her with words. All you gotta do is really just not set the ship on fire I suppose. That and maybe show an instance or two of usefulness. I know that probably wouldn't be something you'd care about doing, but clearly Veleda thinks it's important. I mean, you lost fingers and toes for her. This can't be worse than that. Politics is the war you fight before you fight the war. Thank your lucky stars the politics here are simple and not like those south of the border."

 

"If you say so. Maybe I'm meant to show that the Stormcloaks have non-Nord allies. The token elf. I didn't come here just for Fire-Hand, you know. Anyone with eyes can see what the Thalmor are."

 

"Supremacist elves, yea. Although I have to wonder if having a few token elves like yourself in our military will really do anything. Like your Bosmer brethren in Valenwood for instance."

 

Baldur's eyes averted to the walls for a second and then settled back on Menel. After a few seconds, Baldur took a seat on the floor leaning against the curved side of the ship. A few moments passed, then he said, "I wonder. What do you think of us? I'm sure you've noticed a lot of Nords aren't as nice as we are. Doesn't that bother you? Although I suppose you're smart enough to see we're better than Thalmor. Sometimes, anyway. I mean, it's pretty clear to those of us on the outside that the Bosmer don't fit into their supremacist goals. But don't you wonder if in the end us Nords will do right by you?"

 

Menel waved his hand. "I don't take most things seriously. That might help to explain our earlier... uh, well. I have nothing against Nords. People are as they are; there will be the good and the bad everywhere. If I decide I don't like Skyrim, I'll resign my post and move elsewhere. The thing is, as the continent stands, there's nowhere you can go and not be threatened by the Thalmor zealotry. So I might as well fight here as in the south."

 

"And what happens when the men of the North and South start invading your homeland? You know this war will take us to Valenwood. What do you think will happen when our men are peppered with arrows and we're up against guerrilla tactics from those who've lived in trees and forests their entire lives? What do you think our next move will be? You've heard of me at least a little before, right? You heard about the farm burnings in Falkreath. That can-, no it will happen again as a tactical measure. I know those trees are very important to your people. Religiously so. Your Green Pact. What are you going to do when that happens? You'll likely be called upon to help do it yourself. Do you have it in you to do what's necessary to erase these assholes from your land?"

 

Menel sighed. "I've never been to Valenwood. My home is Cyrodiil. I can't answer your questions, because I don't know. The Bosmer brought this on ourselves, the ones who decided to use the Thalmor to oust the imperials. Talk about out of the frying pan into the fire. The Thalmor are doing some burning of their own, and I'm not stupid enough to believe that if they get what they want, the Bosmer will be treated as equals. Valenwood's only chance is to get to the point where it can stand on its own."

 

"It's a shame really. I had a friend from Valenwood. He told me about it a bit at one point, made the place sound enchanting. I wanted to go there, but not this way. Not by destroying the beauty of the place when we go in. I wonder what his answer would be. If he...anyway, it's good to hear your conviction. If I have anything to say about it, Valenwood will be standing on their own again. I promise you that."

 

Baldur stood up from by the wall and then approached Menel with his hand out. "Thanks for the chat. Get some rest; you'll need it in the morning." The elf hesitated a moment, looking at Baldur's hand, but then reached out and shook it.

 

"Thank you, general. For what it's worth, I do think that what you are doing here is important. Veleda sees the bigger picture, that is why I follow her lead. Her instincts are usually right. Good night then." He turned and flopped heavily down on his pallet, pulling the blankets up over his head.

 

***

Rebec had already passed them and gone into the captain's quarters, not wanting to disturb what sounded like a good chat. It at least didn't seem to be leading to fisticuffs. In her quarters, she started a fire in the little covered brazier, and heated water for washing. The new naval uniform wasn't as broken in as her old leathers, so she was always glad to get out of it for a little while. She washed and changed into woolens, then sat at the little desk and wrote her log entry, after which she took out the Hammerfell charts and looked over them. The routes were as familiar as the back of her hand, but it had been a while and she wanted no mistakes on this run. A few minutes later, someone knocked at the door lightly, just enough for her to hear.

 

Afterwards, in a teasing tone, a voice said, "Captain, it's General Red-Snow. May I come in?" Rebec looked up and then grinned.

 

"You may enter, sailor." Baldur opened the door slowly to avoid making noise and then slowly crept in as he closed the door behind him. Still creeping in, he moved his way behind Rebec's chair, laying his hands on her shoulders before leaning over to see what she was working on.

 

"So what are you working on, Captain? What's that genius sailor mind up to?"

 

"Nothing genius, just getting us to Hammerfell in one piece. I was considering where we should stop in High Rock. We owe debts to several shipyards, but I'm not going to stop at all of them. Just the ones where I think it could do some good. The ones that tried to gouge us, mainly. These Bretons got to figure out whether they're in the war effort or not."

 

Baldur scoffed and said, "War effort, they're too busy squabbling amongst themselves currently from what I've heard. My guess is we won't be hearing from them until they need us. By then it may be too late to ask for help. They refused us, after all. Never been to High Rock. We just staying at the docks?"

 

"Just making brief stops. I'd rather not give shore leave unless it's needed. Too hard to round everyone back up." Baldur walked over to the small window in the room and opened it to listen to the sound of the waves to offset the creaking of the boat. He took in the soft rolling sounds, breathing in the cool air as he did, then smiled.

 

"I could get used to this. Once the throwing up passes and you get used to the movement, it's pretty nice. In time maybe I'll start feeling like a part of the crew, but so far I'd say today went pretty good. What did you and Ysan-, ma, talk about?"

 

"You, of course. And sailing." Rebec turned. "So you were throwing up? I'm sorry, I have so many things to keep track of that I didn't notice. We should have some potions around here somewhere to help with nausea."

 

"Bah, I don't need any potions. The crew sees me taking that, and I'll be forever branded a land lubber for sure. No, I'll just have to get used to it. It was only twice during training and once after. It'll pass. I'm glad you two found something else to talk about. I want her to get her mind off of things rather than harping over me," he said, as he took a seat on the bed to remove his boots.

 

Rebec rested her arm on the back of her chair. "I don't think she's harping over you. She wants to get to know you, and she was worried about something my pa said about us. How I was as excited over Toki as I seem now over you." Baldur stopped taking off his second boot when Rebec mentioned Toki and what Vigge said.

 

Eventually he continued and said, "I see. Normally I'd ask you about that, but I know that isn't true. I don't need an explanation yet again. You've been doing enough of that already. Vigge will see it too, in time. I don't want her nagging the man or you about me and what's in the past. I understand where she's coming from, but it's unnecessary."

 

"She's worried about you getting hurt. For that matter, I'm sure pa was worried about me getting hurt when he said that." Rebec stood up and stepped over to him- it only took two steps in the small quarters- and put her hands on his shoulders. "They don't know what we do." She brushed a hand along his cheek and then glanced up at the open window. "So, here we are. Sailing. Is it like you imagined?"

 

He didn't answer immediately, a little annoyed that their parents had doubts about the two. "Right, sailing." Baldur snapped out of his thoughts finally, then grabbed Rebec's waist to pull her on his lap. "It is now," he said, grinning. "Seriously though, I do like it. It'll be hard putting it to words when I write about it. All that open space, nothing but you and a tiny piece of wood against all that open sea. I wrote about the sea before in those poems, but seeing it like this is something else entirely. At first I was worried about being dead weight, but you gave me a job, so that makes it better. Training while the ship is shifting adds a new element to fighting. Trains foot work. I'm sure I'm still just the Captain's land lubber boyfriend to them for now though. They say anything to you?"

 

"They wouldn't. I'm their paycheck. But I can read them, and they're worried you'll cause trouble for them. I've got another set of eyes now, and if you take a disliking to one of them, they figure I'll boot him. The little incident with Menel didn't help." She smiled wryly and played at his beard with her fingers.

 

"Just as well, then. It means they'll be on their toes and work that much harder. Sounds like a win win." Baldur reached for her hand on his face and held it to his cheek for a moment before bringing it down to hold with his fingers. He ran a finger over the palm of her hand and smiled before saying, "Sorry about worrying you over Menel. I don't know why I got so mad; this jealousy thing is new for me."

 

Rebec chuckled. "It's cute. I've never seen an elf with his foot that far down his throat. Just don't make a habit. If there are discipline problems, bring them to me. My crew runs on trust and I'll be honest, I'm worried about upsetting the routine already. New ship, navy rules. It's new for all of us."

 

"Depends on the discipline problem," he said. Suddenly he threw her off him to the side on the bed and then swung his legs over her hips. While resting on his knees, he took off his breast plate and then buried his face in her neck. Smiling with his eyes closed, he said, "What are you going to do if I disobey, Captain?" Laughing, Rebec turned her head to judge whether the little bed was about to crack in two. It seemed safe.

 

"Throw you in the drink, of course," she replied, stroking his hair and kissing him wherever she could reach. Holding Baldur's shoulders with her other arm, she paused and impressed the memory in her mind, wanting to hold on to this moment. She heard every sound a different way than most people, listening for the little telltale signs of how the ship was riding on the water and how the wind and water smelled, but that only made it more meaningful. "I've never had someone in here before. In my quarters, I mean," she said softly, realizing it only then.

 

Baldur lifted his head slowly to look at her eyes. What she said was something he wondered, but didn't see a reason to ask. "Good, I'm glad. I guess this will be a first for you as well as the ship then. It's only fair; you got to sleep in my quarters when I was a captain if you remember."

 

Chuckling, Rebec said proudly, "Yep. Helped myself, I did. And I was right about you." Leaning in, she kissed him, taking her time, though eventually she moved his hand around to her breast. "Slow and sweet," she said softly between kisses, making a request.

 

"Of course, Captain," he whispered. He took her invitation to knead her breast, his fingers trained already to find her nip through her shirt, although at the moment, they made his job finding them easier. He kissed and tugged lightly at her neck, occasionally letting her feel more so than hear his groans of pleasure resonate through her skin from his lips. Slowly his hands crept down her abdomen from her bosom, like a frostbite spider, steadily making its way down to her stomach. Then her belly button, which he played with a while, tickling her slightly. Then he went further down to her lower stomach. Just...above...her trouser line...then his hand sneaked its way back up her shirt while a smile crept on his face as he gently kissed her ear and his spider hand made its way to her belly button again.

 

"Fooled you," he whispered playfully into her ears. Rebec wasn't idle, her hands caressing down his back and along his arm and her body arching against his hand. She murmured, almost regretting that she had asked for him to go slowly, and her breath caught when he played at her belly button. At his teasing, she caught his mouth, half turning so that she was the one on top. After a long, probing kiss, she sat back, lifted her woolen shirt over her head, watching his expression as she brought his hand to her breast again.

 

After some time she leaned forward and began to play at his neck with her lips and tongue, moving slowly down to his chest. Her hand reached down and brushed the front of his loincloth, but then she smiled impishly and returned to his arms, saying, "Two can play that game."

 

"Aww, damn it, Rebby," he said whilst laughing once he saw she too was playing him. Breathing at an increased rate, Baldur took a deep breath to control himself and then he rolled to his side and put a leg over hers. Using his leg to pull hers towards him, Baldur seized Rebec's breasts gently in his hands and pushed them together to alternate suckling and kissing between them each. While his mouth was still occupied with one, his other hand once again slowly crept downwards. As it went further and further, Baldur looked up into her eyes to see her reaction once his fingers finally made their way past her trouser line to rubbing gently at her clit.

 

It was clear from the look in his eyes what he was thinking, but he said it anyway in a whisper as he cradled her head with one hand and pleased her with the other. His sweet words of affection being given credence with the sensations he so graciously provided for her. The reaction was instant as she went from smiling coyly to gasping, her head rolling back at the shock of energy through her thighs from the lightest touch. She held herself still a few moments, letting her body taste the exquisite friction of his calloused finger, then squirmed against the motion, her feet kicking along the bedclothes. Opening her eyes, she held Baldur's, feeling a surge of love for him.

 

Baldur listened to the gentle waves outside once more and tried to work a rhythm to it that he was sure Rebec would notice. The intense look in her eyes made him want to stare at her pleading eyes forever, but he could not, not while those eyes of hers seemed to be asking for even more. Baldur kissed her long, having to fight with her gasps to do so while he continued to move his fingers between her thighs.

 

"I'll be back, okay? Sit tight," he said apologetically for leaving her eyes. But he'd make it worth it. Slowly as requested, although admittedly unnecessarily so, he eased his head down towards where his fingers were, now replaced with the friction of his rough tongue against her sensitive skin while his fingers went into her after removing her pants. He used his other hand to grip her ankle and spread her leg up and open to give himself more room. Occasionally, he'd take breaks to taste his fingers, his arousal telling his tongue that it was the sweetest thing since moon sugar, while his love for her said the same.

 

Rebec's leg eased over his shoulder and her hand came to rest on his head, her fingers combing his hair tenderly while he worked to please her. Eventually she had to stop even that, body tensing, her breath expelled and shudders moving from her thighs upward and down to her toes. She let the waves carry over her, only half hearing the sound of the water lapping up against the ship and the pounding of her own blood in her ears. Murmuring Baldur's name, she didn't know if she pleaded with him to continue or to join with her. At that moment, he could do whatever he wanted. Right now, Baldur wanted nothing more than to end his torment and hers, but he wanted to prolong this, make it to the breaking point to where she could no longer wait for him to be inside her.

 

His body protested, challenging his will to not indulge just yet. Baldur took Rebec's hips in his hands, his mouth still at her center, then rolled them both over until she had him pinned down. Now he was at her mercy, which is how he wanted it, a smile showing this now as he lay in his submissive state with his head below her groin while his hands rested on her haunches to help her movements. She looked down at him, momentarily shy of the baldly erotic pose and unwilling to demand that he follow through, but Baldur's smile made her relax.

 

Laughing, she braced against the little porthole window's edge and with the other hand, cradled his head and brought his mouth once again to her. Rebec closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensation, though it was when she stole a glance at what he was doing that arousal raced up her back and made her weak. He knew that little maneuver was a gamble, but as this was a first for her in the Captain's Quarters, he wanted to be absolutely sure it was a night she would never forget. Something so good she'd wish she could tell the kids about it, but obviously couldn't.

 

There was complete trust between them and Baldur felt no shame in the way she straddled his mouth, gyrating and riding his tongue as he lay there holding her backside. As much as he was enjoying it, however, he couldn't stand withholding his ecstasy any longer. Rebec was above him, making her way to the moons, but suddenly Baldur wanted to join her in her heightened state. Baldur reluctantly yet eagerly ceased what he was doing and then leaned his head back to look at his handy work. Her core and inner thighs were moist from herself and his mouth; flushed and slightly reddened from all the attention it had been given. It was beautiful. Looking up to Rebec's eyes, Baldur smiled while breathing slightly hard and whispered, "Let me join you in my castle in the clouds."

 

Laughing, Rebec climbed down into his arms and lay next to him, brushing his cheek with her fingertips. She smiled at the wetness in his beard, the scent of her on him. It was intoxicating, both physically and because she had never been with a man who enjoyed her like that. Baldur wouldn't believe her if she told him, Rebec thought. It made her throat catch. He worried about other men, and their parents did, but nobody could tell how little reason there was.

 

"Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse with arousal and emotion. Then she kissed him hungrily, holding on to his shoulders, feeling desperate to have more. Sliding forward, she pressed her hips into his and slid her leg under his thigh, maneuvering until he was inside her. "Stay here," she commanded, holding him there as they lay face to face on their sides.

 

He was a little unsure why she thanked him. Certainly it couldn't have been that good? He'd never had a woman so pleased that they actually thanked him for it, but then again he'd never allowed a woman to do that to him, either. He wondered if Rebec was speaking of more than his current position when she commanded him, then said, "Always. Right here," as he pushed into her while cradling her head, using a clear double meaning. He gasped when Rebec first brought him in, then he did so again when he moved closer to her to move easier, gripping her backside to help him do so slow and sweet, just as she wanted.

 

After all the self-torture he had, finally joining her gave him an intense anxiousness in his gut and his chest that almost ached. So much that he had to bury his head in her neck and hold onto her body to control the shaking of his body, slow and sweet being a tall order for him now at this point. But he obeyed his orders regardless, going from kissing her neck to holding it with his mouth the way his arms held her head and shoulders to him and his hand held her waist by firmly holding her ass, which he also rubbed. He smelled the scent of her hair and the smell of her in the room, and also in his beard from his lips. All of it wonderful, as if she was enveloping his very being with her essence.

 

She murmured his name, hands moving along his back, brushing the scars there. From his grip on her Rebec knew he was very aroused, and that he couldn't last long, but she wanted to give him something memorable as well. She took a breath and concentrated on massaging him with her internal muscles, rippling and squeezing and then resting before doing it again. Baldur's eyes were closed, but soon opened when Rebec started doing what she was doing. His eyes widened when his body felt the full realization of it and let out two gasps of pleasant surprise, followed with moans that he tried to bury in her shoulder the best he could.

 

He tried holding out as long as he could, but after a while, he pulled back his head to look at her eyes, then he said with an almost pained look in strained words, "I'm sorry, it's too good. I can't keep that order anymore."

 

In the middle of the sentence, he pushed deep and then rolled Rebec over, pinning her down with his waist. For a while he enthusiastically speared into her, unable to control himself, but before too long, he sat up with his arms and put one of Rebec's hands on her clit while he moved. He put his hand under hers over her stomach to feel himself in her. A tear rolled down from his cheek, but he was too preoccupied to wipe it before Rebec noticed. It was clear that he was on the brink, unable to hold out for much longer.

 

Rebec saw the tear and wondered at it. Baldur gave her everything, something no man had ever done either. She was close, though, too, and fluttered her fingers to bring herself up with him. The grip of it caught hold, and she gasped triumphantly, removed her hand and clutched his shoulders, rocking her hips to let the friction of his body finish her. As she came, she buried her cry in his shoulder and arched into his chest, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull him deeper.

 

Once he saw that she was done, Baldur sighed in relief as he was trying hard to hold back. He wound his waist around as he went in, eyes locked with Rebec's as he finally was able to let himself go. Another tear fell as he finished and only at that moment did he know that they fell. His body still shook and made him thrust for a few moments before it finally ceased and he rolled to his side next to her. Still gasping and embarrassed from his tears, he put his head in under her chin facing her neck, still craving the feel of her nearness. Kissing tenderly at his cheek and ear, Rebec cradled Baldur and let her own breath return.

 

Why are you so good to me, Baldur, she first thought to herself. Then she remembered that he wanted to hear such things, and whispered it between kisses. Her experience had not taught her to expect that from a man, still less the kind of vulnerability as he showed her. His embarrassment was short lived when he remembered who he was dealing with. Once he recovered in her arms, he rubbed gently at her coarseness and sensitive skin, still flowing with evidence of their recent joining. He thought about shifting up in the bed to hold her, but couldn't help but stay. Rebec was right about him wanting secretly to be held.

 

Only with her did he feel comfortable enough to let someone do so. He brought his hand up to toy idly with her nipple while he rested on her chest. "I don't know what else to be with you. And, it's about time someone was," he said in a low yet clearly audible voice. Rebec lay silent, letting the sounds of the ship and sea come back to her. Holding Baldur, she turned her head to look out the little window. There were some clouds, but between them were the pinpricks of stars and the slowly coursing planets. Beneath that, the black, gently roiling sea.

 

To be on a ship again- her own ship- would have meant everything before. It still meant a lot, but to have such a man in her arms made that pale by contrast. Now she had them both. It felt like she had everything. Leaning down, she kissed Baldur's forehead gratefully, and brushed at the damp hair that fell across it. "You're happy, then?" He didn't answer at first, unsure of how to in the first place. He was searching for a word, but nothing seemed to come to mind.

 

"Happy, is just so plain and cliche. If I told you I was happy, I'd be lying. I sort of get why you choose not to express yourself with words at times now. Even with me as a bard, all the poems and songs, I can't think of an emotion that would accurately describe it. It would be like asking a poor starving man who hadn't eaten for weeks and you just gave a slow roasted ox to 'was the meat good'. If someone like ma asked if I was happy, I'd save them an ear full and say yes, but to you...it's not adequate enough. Only bad thing about a man that has everything is that he spends a lot of his time worrying about losing it. What about you?"

 

Voice languid, she replied, "I was thinking that I hadn't known the meaning of the word." Rebec fell silent, her fingers still playing gently in his hair. Her eyes moved down his body and she smiled, pleased and aroused, at the sight of his member on her thigh, still slick. Her mind drifted to what she wanted to do later that night, but the pleasant image was interrupted by a knock on the door.

 

"Cap?" It was a male voice, one of the crew.

 

Rebec turned her head. "Is the ship sinking or on fire? Is someone dead?" There was a pause, and a tentative no. "Then go away, gods damn it!"

 

The voice mumbled and withdrew. Turning her head back to look down at Baldur, Rebec smiled again and stroked his cheek. "You should sleep a while if you can, love. I'll be up in the night a couple times, but don't pay it any heed." He chuckled at Rebec's yelling and then held Rebec tighter when she said she'd be up.

 

"Ugh, don't tell me you have Captain duties even at night. Reminds me of Falkreath."

 

"I sleep hard but short when we're at sea. Don't worry, I won't stay away long." She tickled his beard and then laid her head back, exhaustion finally getting to her. It wasn't so much the physical work, but making sure everyone had what they needed and was working, that the whole organization of the ship was functioning smoothly, which wore her out. Even wanting to enjoy the afterglow with Baldur couldn't hold that off for long. Before she knew it, Rebec was fast asleep.

 

Normally Baldur would linger a while after she fell asleep to watch her, but tonight it wasn't so. A combination of the training and sea sickness, plus of course the nightly exertion and sleepiness that comes with that laid him out before he even knew it. He only woke up a little later due to having to relieve himself. He sat up to rub his head, which for some reason was wet, but soon realized it was of course Rebec's drool. Chuckling as he wiped it out, Baldur stood and placed on his night trousers to walk out to the top deck.

 

When he opened the door, he thought about what Rebec said when she mentioned the sleeping arrangements for the crew, and realized she wasn't kidding when she said the place was packed. He had to step over some crew members who hadn't had bunks to get to the top deck. The top deck had more, as most of them preferred the sea's night air to the stuffy air below. If not for the stars and the moons out, the entire area would have been pitch black. Once again Baldur marveled at the vast sea, the open air, crisp and cool all around him. The only time it was more magnificent was atop High Hrothgar.

 

Baldur almost forgetting why he came up finally snapped out of hazily staring at the dark sea and then made his way to the bow of the ship with the wisp figure attached to it. Baldur rubbed his eyes tiredly as he stared at it for a while, until a mischievous idea came into his mind. Looking around to see if anyone was awake, Baldur made his move. There were in fact people awake, but Baldur didn't really care. This was too good to pass up. Putting his left foot up first, he climbed his way up the rail, then worked his way to the wisp, having his arm hooked around her neck while he downed his pants to relieve himself from up high into the night air, then down into the freezing sea of ghosts.

 

"Ahh yea...now that's what I call sailing. Ohhh gods..."

 

"Baldur?"

 

"Huh? Ah shit!" he said, almost slipping in mid-stream. After he recovered, he pulled up his pants to climb back down. When he turned, Ysana was staring at him with a deeply concerned look. "Ma? What are you doing up?"

 

"I couldn't sleep and I saw you walk out of your room, so I thought I'd come up to talk. Baldur, what-"

 

"I know, I know. What can I say, I'm a big kid," he replied hastily in embarrassment.

 

"That's not what I was going to ask," she said with an almost angry voice. "What in the world happened to your back?" He looked at her confused for a second, almost forgetting the scars were there now that the Kynareth priest's ointment helped get rid of some of the aches he had, but a sudden look of realization hit him when he remembered.

 

"Ma, it's n-"

 

"You tell me it's nothing and I'll lay you out, boy. Now I'm tired of being left in the dark on your life. What the hell happened?" Ysana's voice was angry, but shaken a bit as well in her inquiry. Baldur looked down at her hands and he could see that they were clutching up into fists. He understood her anger. It was the same anger he had when he thought of Rebec's past pain and how he couldn't do anything to take it away.

 

Sighing at what he knew would be a long tale; Baldur closed his eyes and said, "It's just the realities of war. We can talk about this in the morning, okay? For now, I just want to sleep." Ysana looked like she was about to object, but Baldur put up his hand showing he'd have none of it tonight, then he let her embrace him for a while before he walked her back to where she was bunking near Vigge.

 

After he finally made his way back to the Captain's quarters, Baldur sighed heavily after dropping his night trousers and taking a seat on the bed. He sat there a while, remembering the scars again and how he got them. How close he and Rebec came to being permanently separated, and how he'd have to relay that now to his already distressed mother. He put it out of his mind for now, climbing back into bed and tucking his head under Rebec's chin, still wet of course from her saliva.

 

Rebec murmured when he returned to bed, and the motion of the ship woke her fully. Normally she would have gotten up then to make a round of the ship, but consciously resisted the notion. She had a compelling reason to stay in her quarters, and for now it could wait. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she curled an arm around Baldur's shoulders and went back to sleep.

 
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