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Civil War Aftermath Chapter 3: Season's End pt2


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Aerin (BT), Vex, Boldir, Carlotta, Mila

Riften

Afternoon

 

Aerin sighed, rubbing the bruise on his temple. It was superficial, but still pained him. He knocked on the door lightly, then crossed his arms unhappily. Several seconds passed by, and his annoyance only grew. Finally, the lock on the other side of the door could be heard opening, the the old oak swung open with a long creak.

"Vex," he said rather pompously, showing no hint of love towards his sister. "May I come in, or do I have to steal from people to be allowed that courtesy?"

Vex scowled, the dislike mutual, but nevertheless, she stepped back to allow him room to enter. "It's been a while Aerin." she said as he stepped through the doorframe. "You here to preach to me again?" her eyes went to his bruise, "Or do you just want a kiss on the head to make you feel better?"

"Can it. I'm not here to preach, I'm here to tell you to call off the dogs. I got mugged in the street last night, almost stabbed! We may not like each other, but the least you could do is tell your 'friends' to leave me the hell alone!" Aerin was furious, his cheeks flushing and temper rising. He disliked the Thieves Guild, but his sister had other feelings, which led to their mutual dislike for each other.

"These 'dogs' aren't mine. I don't own them, and they mostly do as they please." Vex was largely indifferent to Aerin's sufferings, but it did slightly annoy her that he believed she was responsible, as if she'd give him the time of day. "Of course, I don't know what you expected. After all, you've got a wild bitch of your own, don't you? Perhaps if you could keep a leash on her, my friends wouldn't have such a problem with you."

"Hmph. At least someone is trying to clean this city up, instead of funding it's squalor. Look around Vex, the canals are stagnant, the sewers filled with vagabonds and all manner of trash. People are openly bullied by Maven Black-Briar, and her lapdog the Thieves Guild. I said I wasn't going to preach, but for the gods' sake, at least make sure I'm not killed walking home from the bar. I doubt our parents would appreciate the fact you could've stopped it, and didn't," Aerin still had his arms crossed defiantly in the face of the family's unwanted rat.

Vex rolled her eyes. "As usual, you have no idea what you are talking about." Even if she wanted to, neither she, nor anyone else could do a thing about Maven Black-Briar. The woman may as well have been the Jarl for all the influence she held. And why would she anyway? The Guild was her means of getting by. And she was good at what she did, one of the best.
She headed back into her kitchen, making no motion for her brother to follow. The appliances of the room were covered in dust and cobwebs from lack of use, but the six-seat oak dining table was spotless, as was the exquisite ruby-encrusted silver candlestick that sat, lit, in the middle. She rolled up a map she'd been planning a heist on so Aerin wouldn't see it. "I honestly don't care what those two would appreciate. But you can lie and tell them I'm sorry in your next letter if it means so much to you."
As she'd expected, he had followed her into the house. She eyed his bruise once again. "Look, if you want them to leave you alone, your only options are to quit hanging around that big Nord girl, or to get her to drop the hero game she's playing. She broke a guy's jaw last week. Do you really think they are just going to let that kind of thing go? I wouldn't. And I sure as hell wouldn't make them do it either."

"That's not going to happen, she's the only one that sees this city for what it is, a cesspool of corruption. Do you really despise your family so much to just throw it all away for what, the thrill of stealing, the money? There's a reason mom and dad never visit. This city is dangerous, that's why they moved away. Look your house, your life. You have no relationship, your house is covered in dirt, and your family doesn't even talk to you. Is all that worth it, so that you can steal ruby and silver candlesticks?"

Aerin took a seat in a chair, the velvet cushions sinking in. He sighed and leaned back, relaxing and looking exhausted as he stretched out.

They despised me first. Thought Vex, at the mention of hating her family. All except Carlotta. She wasn't going to say that to Aerin though. Instead, she looked at the candlestick. There were hundreds of trinkets more valuable than this one spread throughout her house. Even if she quit thieving here and now, she'd still be set for a long time. She spared a glance her brother's way. He was exhausted, stressed, and hurt.
"I'd say that it's working a lot better for me than whatever you're doing is for you. So... Yeah. It's worth it."

"I didn't have to sacrifice my-"

A knock at the door interrupted him, and he glanced at it then back at Vex, before annoyingly getting up and walking to the door. He disgustingly looked at the cobwebs before opening the door. Much to his surprise, another member of his family stood, his older sister Carlotta, looking just as surprised and excited as he was.

"What're you doing here!? Don't looked so shocked to see me here, it's just as abnormal as you coming to visit, haha! Come in, just ignore Vex's lack of cleanliness. Here, take a seat," Aerin pulled out a chair for her, then sat to her left.

"Aerin!" Carlotta followed him into the house, smiling wide, but a little confused as to why her little brother was in Vex's home. She, Boldir, and Mila had gone to visit him a bit earlier but found he wasn't home. Her stop here was in hopes that Vex could tell her where he might be. As it turned out, that wouldn't be necessary.
He had only just taken his seat when she engulfed him in a hug. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

Aerin quickly moved his head so Carlotta couldn't see the bruise, and hugged her viciously.

"Oh, just catching up with our dear sister. How long have you been in town? Why didn't you see me sooner?"

Aerin smiled at his sister, completely forgetting about how mad he's been at Vex only moments earlier.

"We only got here yesterday." answered Carlotta. After breaking away from the hug, she sat down next to him. "Mila and Boldir are at the market. They'll be excited to meet you."

"Mila? I finally get to meet her! And I assume Boldir is...your husband? Thanks for the wedding invite sis, haha," Aerin patted his sister on the arm, laughing as he did.

Aerin seemed even more cheerful than Carlotta had remembered. Then again, it had been a long time since they'd last seen one another, and of all her family, it had been Aerin who she'd left on the best terms with. He was the one who'd written so many times after Tolik died, offering both his sympathies and his coin. In fact, he was the only one who'd been happy for her marriage in the first place, and now, upon learning of another husband, he is immediately as happy for her now as he had been then. It made her feel a pang of guilt, but not enough to override the joy of seeing him again.
"He is," she said. "If it helps, our wedding was small, that is, it was just us, Mila, and two others. It was earlier this year. It took a few months to work up to coming on this trip."

"It would've been three had you just written me! I could get there in a heartbeat," Aerin smiled, soaking in the warmth his sister always exuded. They were the closest siblings of the three, but still rarely visited each other. Carlotta had Mila, and Aerin had his crusade against the Thieves Guild. They still loved each other, but the distance and lack of income from them both strained their relationship. They used to write quite often, yet it wasn't the same recently, especially after Tolik died.

Carlotta smiled. She had no doubt that it was true, but that didn't mean it would have been easy for him. She did not want to put her brother in a position where he felt compelled to give up so much just to come and see her. She began to answer but was cut off by Vex.

"This is great to see, really. But I've got more important things to do than sit here watching you two have this little family moment." She nodded towards the door for the second time in two days.

Carlotta rose from her seat, not fazed by her sister's attitude. "It's good to see you again this morning as well, Vex." That was no sarcasm, she realized. It surprised her a little, but she actually meant it. Thief or not, Vex was her sister and she loved her.
"Come on, Aerin. I'll introduce you to my family."

"Lead the way sis," Aerin said, following Carlotta. Once they exited the door, however, he pulled Carlotta aside.

"Just ignore her, she's still so dead set in her evil ways that it's corrupted her to the bone. Always was like that, even when we were little. Anyway, enough with her, let's go meet your family," Aerin's smile returned, and he glanced over at the market to see if he could make them out.
 Carlotta didn't respond, not wanting any involvement with Vex and Aerin's feud. She just nodded and led the way back toward where she'd left her family at the market.

***

"That's ridiculous," said Boldir as he and Mila headed away from one of the market stands and towards another. The one they'd just left had belonged to a tall and slender Nord with long, dark red hair and a funny accent. He was advertising some sort of potion that he claimed came from the blood of the Falmer, or Snow Elves. The odd man had insisted that it was capable of making Mila stronger than a man full-grown. Or possibly allow Boldir to see through walls like the Snow Elves apparently could. It had taken much effort to pull Mila away from the scam artist, but he eventually managed to.

"Nu-uh." Mila shook her head defiantly. "It was just last year when the adventurer told us. He said that he found them in a cave way up north, and that they were blind, and wore clothes made of giant bug shells."

"Mila, the Falmer have been gone even longer than the Dragons were. Whatever the man saw, he was wrong. I think the Dunmer wear bug shell armor sometimes, and some of them are a bright gray skin that looks white. Maybe he was just confused."

"The Dragons came back." she pointed out. "What if the Snow Elves did too?"

She honestly had a point. Boldir had realized his mistake not a moment after he mentioned Dragons as a comparison, but he'd hoped Mila wouldn't catch it. He should have known better with her. "Look, Mila-"

"Hey!" Carlotta's voice from behind cut him off. He and Mila turned to see her and a stranger approaching. Is that Aerin? he wondered. If it was, Boldir couldn't see it. Aerin was even shorter than Carlotta, by about an inch, but his face was longer, with sharp features. His mid-length brown hair was much lighter than Carlotta's. All he shared with her was the green eyes, but even then, his were darker and more faded. The two of them must have favored a different parent. Then again, Vex had bright blonde hair. He shrugged. The family were obviously diverse.

When they got closer, Carlotta introduced them. She'd had to speak loudly to be heard in the market crowd to even get their attention. Now that she was closer, it was easier to enunciate without yelling. "This is my brother Aerin." She looked to Aerin, "and this is Mila." she patted Mila on the shoulder, "and my husband Boldir."

Aerin looked up at Boldir, shocked at his height.
"Welcome to Riften! Hope you don't mind the smell, or most of the folk who live here. Haha, and you must be Mila!" he said, squatting down to get at her eye level. "You're just as pretty as your mom described. I'm your Uncle Aerin, and it is a pleasure to finally meet you. And just so you know, if you ever need something," he lowered his voice slightly, still loud enough to be heard however, "that your parents won't let you have, just come to me."
Aerin rose back up to his full height, then said, "Speaking of things I might give you, how's about I make up for all those birthdays, and wedding, I missed, and I take you guys out to eat! My treat, of course."

Aerin's quick manner of speaking gave Boldir and Mila little opportunity to respond with greetings of their own, but Boldir didn't really mind that. "You didn't know we were in the city thirty minutes ago." he said. "This isn't going to get in the way of anything you had planned, is it?"

"Unless an army of Thieves Guild hating soldiers walk in, I doubt I have anything better to do. Plus, even if I did have any plans, you guys come first, seeing as we have a LOT of catching up to do," Aerin said cheerfully. His happiness somewhat bled over to his talking, as the more excited he was the faster he talked.

Boldir nodded, taking silent note of his mentioning of the Thieves Guild. "Then by all means, lead the way."

Aerin pushed through the crowd, uttering lots of "Excuse me's" and "Pardon me's" but eventually they reached the Bee and the Barb tavern. Aerin graciously opened the door, allowing his guests to enter before following suit. They sat at a quiet table in the opposite corner, where hopefully they could converse in peace.

Boldir and Mila sat across from Aerin and Carlotta. Mila, who had been holding in questions the whole time, finally burst out with the one she knew to be the worst, but couldn't help asking. "Do you own a boat?!"

"Haha, I wish! No, unfortunately I don't. They really aren't that popular anymore, not as many fish in the lake. But, I do know someone who does, so maybe in a few days we can go fish together. I can even teach you how if you don't know!" Aerin was like a kid in a candy shop, smiling and laughing, his whole face alight with joy.

"I know how!" Mila's smile would've stretched as far as his were she capable of it. "I learned yesterday!"

Carlotta shared a glance with Boldir before looking back at her brother. "So you know a fisherman? What's their name?"

"Is that so? Well, you've got about as much fishing knowledge as I do then!"
 Aerin turned to Carlotta, shaking his head. "Don't worry, my friend Runar owns it. It's actually one of the largest fishing vessels left here in Riften, and it takes him and two other men to man it."

Mila's eyes lit up. She'd been on a tiny, three-seat rental last night. The one her uncle spoke of sounded much more like she'd imagined back home. She grinned at her mother. "And you said I probably wouldn't get to ride on a big ship."

"I honestly didn't expect it to be so easy." she answered.

"The only place you'll find a bigger ship is on the coast. I've also heard the High Admiral is building her a new one, said to be bigger than any other in the navy. Unfortunately, Runar's isn't quite that big, but it isn't a dingy either."

He looked at Carlotta, making a 'tsk' noise before talking. "How dare you doubt such a wonderful city could crush your wishes Carlotta! I am offended on behalf of every citizen of Riften," Aerin's voice dripped with sarcasm as he said the last statement, and he placed his hand on his chest in mock shock.

"Oh stuff it!" Carlotta said playfully. "I grew up here, same as you. Even Boldir's from the area. Obviously not from the city if you can tell it from his accent. But he used to come here on occasion. Isn't that right Boldir?"

The corner of Boldir's mouth was still twisted into a smile at the mention of Rebec. She and Baldur would be in Solitude now. Probably overseeing the finishing touches of the Black Wisp. It was weird to hear about them all the way down here, in the opposite corner of Skyrim, from a man who had never even met them. It was strange to think about, but the two of them were known all across Skyrim. As he thought about it, he felt a certain longing. It would be good to finish with Riften and take his family to see his shield siblings once again.

"Boldir?"

"Eh?" Boldir snapped out of his thoughts and back to the present. His wife had said something about Riften, and a kid.

"I was saying that you used to come here sometimes, didn't you?"

"Oh, aye. When I was young."

"I'm sure you thoughts of the city are just as unpleasant as mine, although the food isn't all that bad," Aerin licked his lips, as the Argonian waitress had just brought out four succulent chicken breast for them.

"Let's dig in!" Aerin cried, wasting no time in devouring the juicy fowl.

The others quickly followed suit. Mila set about to obliterate her portion. She ate the chicken so quickly that it was a wonder that she tasted it at all. Boldir was not much better, but he at least tore his pieces off before eating them. Carlotta thought watching the two of them eat together was hilarious, almost like it was a competition to them.

Once Aerin finished, he belched into his hand and stretched out in his chair.

"Nothing like a good meal to take edge off. And now a round of mead for all of us! Except Mila, unless you guys are okay with it?" Aerin asked, while the waitress brought four bottles, but only passed three out.

Aerin took a good swig of him, the Black-Briar mead going down easily.

"No" said Carlotta.

"Aww, come on." Mila complained. "I'm thirteen now!"

"No." Boldir mimicked. If Carlotta wasn't going to let her have a drink, he'd stand by her on that. He followed up by taking a long drink from his own bottle. Regular Black-Briar mead wasn't his preference, but it was better than most of the plainer brews.

Aerin frowned, the leaned over to Mila, whispering, "Parents are no fun!" Then he raised his voice, asking, "So, who wants a sweet roll? Frosted, of course!"

"I do!" Mila exclaimed, to no one's surprise.

"One sweetroll please!" Aerin yelled out to a passing waitress. "So, what're you guys doing in town? Why the sudden inkling to come visit?" Aerin asked Carlotta.

"It was hardly sudden." she answered. "I've been wanting to bring Mila down here to meet everyone for a long time now. This was just the first time it was truly possible."

"Seemed sudden to me, because of the unexpectedness. A nice surprise though, and I'm glad you guys decided to come," Aerin smiled at his sister, then took another swig of his mead.

"So what have you heard from Ma and Pa?" asked Carlotta. "It's been a long time since I last heard from them. Vex says they left during the war to help where they could. And that they settled in Windhelm afterwards."

"Not too terribly much, just that they've settled down in Windhelm and seem to like it well enough. Don't see how, I always thought it was a snowy and miserable city," Aerin said, lacking his usual cheerfulness.

Boldir frowned slightly. "Have you ever been?" he asked. "Windhelm is far from how you describe. It is snowy, yes, and hard, but not miserable." The city had always been a place of companionship and brotherhood to Boldir. When he'd first gone, he'd felt like an outsider, but that had changed very quickly. He felt compelled to defend it.

"Umm, well no, as I'm not a fan of snowy weather," Aerin said rather sheepishly, somewhat embarrassed.

Boldir had thought as much, but seeing Aerin's embarrassment, he felt that he shouldn't have been so blunt in calling him out on his ignorance. He was family now after all, different as he was. Boldir took a swig from his bottle as he thought about what he could say to make Aerin feel less foolish.
"Well," he started, the empty bottle clanking on the table as he sat it down, "the cold would probably be worse for you than for me. I don't understand it, but maybe that could be enough to make a place miserable."

"You should visit Ma and Pa some time." Carlotta added. "Decide for yourself. Maybe your Nordic side will end up liking it." She herself had little trouble with the cold, but wasn't the biggest fan of Windhelm either, or at least based on what she had heard of it. It sounded like a fantastic place for Stormcloaks and historians, not so much for color-loving fruit venders.

"Maybe, I've never really put my cold resistance to the test! I'll probably visit them sometime, and maybe I'll find the city to my liking, haha. May even consider moving there myself if I like it so much!" Aerin said that last part somewhat sarcastically, as he didn't really expect to move to Windhelm, not anytime soon.

Carlotta smiled. That trip would be a long time in coming. If nothing had changed, then what cold resistance Aerin did have was not up to par for what was needed in most parts of Skyrim. "I'm sure they would be excited to have someone up there with them." she said before taking a sip from her own mug.

"Well, you guys could always move there! Not as many fruits to sell, but I'm sure you could find something else to do. And Boldir could...hmm, I don't believe I ever even asked what you did Boldir?" Aerin said a little sheepishly, realizing he'd forgotten to ask such a common question.

"I'm a Stor-" Boldir stopped himself short. It'd been months since he left the army, but it would likely be many more before the instinct to refer to himself as such was gone. "Ex-Stormcloak soldier. Now I'm Commander of the guard in Whiterun."

Eyebrows arching, Aerin was visibly shocked.

"Oh really, that's very interesting. I'm sure as an ex-soldier you could find work almost anywhere. What did you do before the war? Carlotta mentioned you were from around here, were you a farmer?"

"Only if that work involves fighting, unfortunately." Boldir hesitated before answering Aerin's question. He didn't much like talking about his time before the Stormcloaks. "I... was in the Legion before the war. I joined at a young age. Before that, I lived up in Shor's Stone."

"A fighter through and through eh? Having grown up nearby I'm sure you have some family friends. Heck, I might even know them!" Aerin exclaimed, then chuckled a little. He seemed to be out in good spirits by his families' arrival, so much so most anything was funny.

Boldir looked at Carlotta. She was curious as well. He was from here, but other than their secret about the Black-Briars, he had never really spoken at any connections with anyone in the area.
"I wasn't close to anyone in the city." he said. "My trips here with my father were rare and brief. Sorry."

Aerin smile wavered, but only for a brief second.

"Ah, that's a real shame. It's always nice to catch up with people you haven't seen in ages, right Carlotta? Haha," Aerin laughed at calling his older sister out.
 "You've been awfully quiet Mila, everything alright?" the kind uncle asked, turning to look at his adolescent niece.

"Yes sir." she answered. "I was just listening."

"You should try and remember this occasion." Carlotta said to Aerin, grinning. "That's a rare thing from her." She was joking, of course. Mila was usually a good listener. She nudged her daughter with her elbow.

Mila smiled and turned slightly red. "Actually... I was still thinking about the boat."

"Don't worry, I'll get you that boat ride!" Aerin assured, patting Mila on the shoulder.
 "Well," he said, looking around at the table, "if we're all done, we can go somewhere else, if you guys want."

"Actually," Carlotta said. "I think it's about time for all of us to begin settling down."

Aerin glanced at the windows, noticing the purple and crimson skies outside, and agreed completely.
 "You're right, of course. It's getting pretty late. You guys staying here for the night?"

"Yes," she answered, "we've already got a room rented."

"Alright then, I'll be headed home. See you tomorrow, and sweet dreams Mila," Aerin tickled his niece, smiling as he did.

Mila laughed and pushed his hands away, while everybody rose from their seats.
"It's been good to see you again brother." Carlotta said, giving Aerin one last hug for the night.

"Good to see you too Carlotta, it's been too long," Aerin said, returning the hug, and giving his sister a peck on the cheek.

Mila danced around her mother and Aerin and towards the stairs to their room. Carlotta gave her brother a smile as she broke away from the hug, then turned to follow. As she did, Boldir extended his large hand to Aerin. "It was good meeting you, New-Brother." he said, sounding so uncharacteristically friendly for anyone but his immediate family that it briefly stopped Carlotta in her tracks.

Aerin firmly shook Boldir's hand, and smiled at the large Nord.

"Likewise," he said, before leaning in closely to whisper, "Can I talk to you, alone?"

Boldir's brow furrowed, but he nodded. He turned back to Carlotta. "I'll catch up with you, Love. Aerin and I have something to talk about."
 Carlotta looked puzzled, but nodded before turning and heading off. She was sure that Boldir would tell her what it was about when he got to the room.

"This won't take long, I promise. It's just, after hearing that you're a guard commander, I can't help but ask," Aerin lowered his voice, barely audible even to a man standing as close as Boldir, "I need help, taking down the Thieves Guild. Please, this city is a mess, and I think you can command enough respect to clean it up."

Boldir was visibly surprised by the abruptness of this extreme request. It was sad that things were so bad that Aerin was coming to him, but Riften hadn't been his problem in many years. He couldn't make it so again, not now that he had a family to look after. "No." he said softly, shaking his head.

"Sudden right? I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean right away. But once you, you know, have some time... this city is ruled by Maven Black-Briar, and she has a choke-hold on the Thieves Guild, and uses it to drain money from every vendor in the city. Please, I'm asking you a favor as your brother," Aerin pleaded, his almost always present smile gone, replaced by a solemn frown.

Boldir sighed. As if he didn't know all of this already. "Look, believe me when I say that there are very few things in this world that would give me more satisfaction than wiping Maven, her pets, and all the rest from the face of the world, but that is simply not possible. They are worse than I think you realize. I'm not putting Carlotta and Mila at risk by going after them. You're a good man, Aerin. Don't pursue this. If not for your own well-being, then for your family's."

"You're right, we'd need extreme backup. And only if our family was safe. Sorry I asked you, it's just I've undertaken this personal crusade, along with a friend of mine, and it's gets under your skin, until you can't stand it anymore," Aerin said, fidgeting with his fingers as he did.

Boldir nodded, then put a hand on his shoulder, leaning in close enough to smell the mead on his breath. He spoke even more softly than before. "I knew you were not a fan of the Thieves Guild, but I didn't know that you were already do- trying to do something about it. Now that I do, I have to say something... As long as my family is here, I want this "crusade" you speak of to stop. I'm not asking. Us being family, it puts more people at risk than just you."
He hated to speak like this to Aerin, as he did like the man, and now, knowing just how strongly he felt about the scum in this city and the fact that he was actually making an effort to do something about it gave Boldir a new perspective of him. He respected what he was doing, and that he was brave enough to do it, even if it was ultimately futile.

Aerin grimaced, realizing the implications of his actions against the Thieves Guild, even more so than the occasional mugging.
 "I understand, I won't endanger any of you. Have fun visiting Riften," Aerin said, turning away and leaving with a frown in his face.

 

Boldir wasn't happy to end on the sour note, but he let Aerin go. He didn't want to send the message that he was on the fence about helping. Anything else, thought Boldir, if it had been anything else, I could've done it. He hated that he could not help, but there was no way he'd put his family, or even himself, at that kind of risk. The Black-Briar family was too powerful to risk going against.

 He headed upstairs, where Carlotta at on the bed and Mila at the desk by the wall. 

 

"What was that about, Dear?" Carlotta asked. 

 

He came and sat beside her, then spoke softly so Mila wouldn't hear. "He wanted my help in dealing with the crime here. Eventually even the Black-Briars."

 

"What?!" Carlotta was shocked. "And you said 'no', right?"

 

"Of course I did. I told him that he'd be wise to stop trying himself."

 

Carlotta sighed in relief. But she was worried for her brother. "So that bruise on his forehead, do you think that's from-"

 

"I don't know, he didn't say. But I'd imagine it was. The Thieves Guild are thugs, and they work for Maven. I wouldn't put it past them to attack someone for speaking out against them. There aren't many in this city who would do a thing to stop them."

 

Carlotta felt a little bad that there was nothing to be done about this situation, but family comes first. "Do you think he'll listen to you?"

 

"I don't know. Probably not. But he did promise to stop while we're in the city."

 

"That's good." Carlotta yawned. It had been a big day, and so would tomorrow. "Well we can drop this for now. Hopefully forever. Let's get some sleep."

 

"Agreed." Boldir looked over at Mila, who was drawing in the candlelight. "You going to bed Mila?"

 

"Not yet." she said. "I'm gonna finish this first."

 

"Alright," he took his shirt off and laid down beside his wife. "Just make sure you put the candle out when you're done."

 

With that, Boldir rolled over and went fast to sleep.

 
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Dales Moitre, Karsh the Raven, 

Afternoon,

Imperial City,

 

Dales groaned in discomfort, as she supported herself on a tree stump. Her cousin, Lizzie, was busy talking. Dales wasn't even paying attention. Admiral Tacticus's recent disappearance had troubled her greatly, and while not wanting to completely give up hope on finding him alive, Dales needed to find a suitable replacement for him. Which is why she had a problem of spending her afternoon in a garden, which was filled with obnoxious bureaucrats, and greedy noblemen.

 

Dales popped a small olive into her mouth, as she said, 

 

"Lizzie, you should care more about the state of the military and navy, instead of the latest court gossip." 

 

"Hmmm?" The red headed imperial said, looking up to the sky. Dales sighed, as she face palmed herself, 

 

"Admiral Tacticus, the man in charge of the imperial navy, has vanished. Lost to the sea."  Lizzie's eye brows raised, as she put on a smile, "Oh him? Daddy told me about this Tacticus. You should have expected it."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"He's a peasant, I heard he was raised on a farm. You dont give people that low Dales, positions of such importance." 

 

Dales didn't respond, but put on a scowl. No one should be judged in terms of ability for there social class, it was a backwards way of thinking, unfortunantley ingrained in the upper class. She really wanted to punch Lizzie in the fact right now, but she decided against it. 

 

Suddenly she heard fluttering from closely behind and before she knew it, a black bird sat on her shoulder. "Hello, girl smaller than most other humans. You don't mind if you give me some of that food?" She heard in the ear on the side which the raven sat on

 

Lizzie's eyes became blank as her hands started to tremble, "Dales...there's a-"

 

"Come on, some of that meat would be nice." He pointed with one wing at a slice of meat at the blanket, totally ignoring the other humans. 

 

Dales raised her eyebrow, she gave a small grin, "Karsh? It's been too long." 

 

"So you do remember me? Good, now just so you know, I've flown for a long time without food or much rest. I'm starving!" 

 

The Imperial Empress, gave Lizzie a reassuring hand wave, "Dont worry, he's a pet to Lord Snow-Strider." She grabbed a little piece of meat, and offered it to the bird. 

 

Grabbing it with his beak he gulped it down rather quickly. "More." 

 

She gave him another piece the same size,

 

He gulped it down all the same. "You know what, just keep feeding me till I stop eating." 

 

"Dont be greedy." She said calmly. 

 

"You're talking to the wrong kind of bird then." He said before eating up one piece after another, till almost all the meat was gone. 

 

"Now that your fattened up, how do you know i'm not going to bake myself a crow pie since your ate all of the meat?"

 

"First of all: it's raven, not crow. Second: No pies, ever." 

 

"Crow, Raven. Your all the same to me, all you do is leech off dead bodies, or in you care, living people." Her mouth twisted into another grin, and her stone cold blue eyes scanned the bird. She spoke in a low whisper so Lizzie couldn't hear them,  

 

"What does master request of me?"

 

"He wanted me to check in on you. Probably just to see how you are doing." 

 

She looked at the raven oddly, "Huh? No diabolic schemes? No order? Just to know how i'm doing?! That dosen't sound like him..."

 

"Maybe to see if you're doing well or just to see if you're having the city collapse while he's gone. I didn't get of an explanation to why I check in on you." 

 

"Why dont you try to prevent a crumbling empire from going broke for a  day? It's not as fun as it seems." She said dryly, she motioned to her cousin, "This buffoon is distracting me from my work. She insisted I spend time with her. How annoying.,.

 

He looked at the other girl and tilted his head before returning his beak to Dales' ear. "So? Anyway, how is the situation?" 

 

"Same as always."

 

"Ya sure?" 

 

"I'm sure."

 

"Feels odd to just come here to you and have nothing real to report back. No crisis, no assassination attempts, no monsters under your bed?" 

 

"It's been quiet over here. Since master left." 

 

Well then. I'm taking a nap." He stretched out his wings, one wing hitting Dales in the face and jumped forward and drifted down slowly onto the blanket. Where he found a nice little spot and sat down. 

 

"GET THAT CROW AWAY FROM ME!!!" Lizzie said, flailing her arms in an unlady like fashion, while Dales sat there stoically. Lizzie backed away from the raven. Dales sighed, 

 

"Calm down, cousin. Besides, he's a raven" 

 

Karsh looked up at the almost hysterical woman and tilted his head, then shook it slightly as if disappointed and then resumed his attempt at a nap. 

 

"Excuse me Karsh, my older cousin seems to have a weak constitution. Can I offer you a nap on the royal pillow in the palace?" 

 

Karsh looked at Dales and waved with one wing for her to get closer.

 

Dales complied, offering him her ear, 

 

"Is it a soft pillow?" 

 

"Very soft. And comfortable."

 

"Give me your forearm, I need something to climb up to your shoulder with." 

 

She stretched her arm out to him. 

 

Karsh climbed up on her forearm and from there wandered up to her shoulder, having to bury his talons into her skin a little to not fall off during the climb. "Now off to the pillow!" He said and pointed with one wing right ahead. 

 

Dales didn't shudder at the slight pain, but gave the raven a dry look, "Do you seriously think i'm going to act as your pact mule because your lazy to fly a small distance to an open window?"

 

"Big palace, many windows. I'm staying here on your shoulder for now then." 

 

"Your frightening my cousin with your presence, and it'll look strange for the imperial empress to be walking around with a raven on her shoulder ."

 

"Bloody waste to climb up on your shoulder then. Which window?" 

 

Giving him a smirk she said, "The one on the top floor, the biggest, and too the far right of the building."

 

"The building is round. Far right is quite a relative term in that sense. How about north, south, west and all those other directions a bird like me can make use of." 

 

"Just look for the window which has black curtains." 

 

"Okay." And he flew off towards the big tower, hoping he wouldn't have to circle around it too much. 

 

****

Fifteen minutes later, Dales and Lizzie decided to leave, due to the atmosphere apparently being ruined by the arrival of the "talking crow". Dales didn't really care, since the sooner they left, the sooner Dales could look for a temporary, or permanent depending on the situation , replacement for Admiral Tacticus. As they walked down the corridors of the imperial palace to Lizzie's room, the girl wouldn't shut up. They turned a corner, 

 

"And so, then Halela ran-"

 

At the same time a servant, who was carrying a vase with a Spider Lilly,   bumped into Lizzie, spilling the water all over the duchess's crimson dress. The servant, in the accident, dropped the vase onto the floor, causing it to shatter. By the yelp that came from the servant, she was likely injured, she fell TO the ground because the impact of hitting Lizzie. The servant was a girl, very young, most likely sixteen or seventeen at the most. She had long black hair, which was done in braids, a pair of glasses, and deep, blue eyes, which Dales swore she reconised from somewhere. Unfortunately, Lizzie was less then pleased with this turn of events. Her face became disorted with anger. The servant girl spoke in a quiet, yet apologetic voice, her eyes were tinged with tears, 

 

"I'm...sorry..."

 

"Useless cur!!!" Lizzie stepped forward, and launched her hand in a slap straight towards the girls face. However, instead of colliding with the servant's face, her hand was stopped suddenly. Though small, the hand that stopped Lizzie's was incredibly firm, and tight. Empress Dales Moitre said, in a cold voice, as she tightened her iron grip, which caused discomfort to her cousin

 

"That will be enough, Duchess."  Lizzie's vision began to fill with tears, 

 

"Dales, i'm-"

 

"That's your majesty to you."  Though not rough, Dales didn't put an effort into pushing her gently away from the downed woman. Facing, her Dales told her, "I think you've been here long enough. Your father and mother are most likely worrying about you. You should leave first chance you get."  Turning around, she didn't bother to see her leave, she knew she would. The sound of feet stomping off angrily confirmed the Empresses suspicions. 

 

Dales crouched down, and asked the downed girl, 

 

"Are you alright?"

 

Still sniffling, the servant stretched out her left hand, revealing a jagged cut. Dales muttered somthing under he breath, as she reached out. The servant squealed, and moved to return her hand, but Dales soft touch stopped her from the maid withdrawing.

 

"Dont worry, I wont hurt you."  Dales mended the injury using a healing spell, to the surprise and wonder of the servant girl.  Dales gave her a nod, before taking her hand away. The servant girl blushed slightly, as the empress left without another word. 

 

****

 

Opening his eyes he looked around the room. Karsh sat on the biggest pillow in the royal bed, big with red sheets with black and gold decorations of dragons and an imperial pattern of swirls and lines. The room itself had some nice furniture and but not much decoration. A couple of trinkets that looked to be from the Empire's glory days were spread around the room, but they were few. He got up and walked across the bed and the then used his wings to glide down to the floor. He walked up the door that was slightly open, but the opening was barely enough for him to squeeze through. He turned right and started walk down the corridor to see if he could find this big chested blonde woman. A few moments later a maid came walking through the corridor towards him. He gave a a quick wave with one wing and a croak and she just looked at him with wide eyes while she passed, eyes peeled at the raven walking in the palace. She kept walking while looking over her shoulder till she eventually bumped into another maid walking the opposite direction. Karsh turned around when he heard them collide and then fall to the floor, and started laughing at them and continued down the corridor, while still laughing for a few seconds. 

 

A knife , laced with Lapis Lazuli color, came flying forth straight towards Karsh's head.

 

After another minute of walking a dagger suddenly came flying towards Karsh, the blade flew right above the raven's head and jumped out of shock before quickly hopping to hide behind the nearest vase. 

 

Who sent you." Said a voice, in a dead serious tone. The person who owned it was a rather, by human standards, attractive looking human, with long platinum blonde hair.  She was clad in leather black armor, which looked similar to leather legionary armor, minus the color. She was readying another knife, and she spoke again. Her breasts were noticeably large, very large. "I aimed to miss the time before, I can detect your magical presence, Raven." While calm, her voice betrayed deep fury, "Did that bitch Homulilly send you to spy on me?!" 

 

Karsh peeked forth his head from behind the vase. Noticing the features that had been described to him, he first reluctantly stretched out his right wing and started waving slowly.

 

Another dagger came flying, this time missing by a single centimeter. 

 

Karsh quickly retreated behind the vase again. Crazy woman. That brown haired woman in the north is nicer than this. He thought to himself before peaking forward again and gave up a small and almost quiet croak. 

 

"I wont ask you again." A flash of light erupted from her left hand, and came trailing towards Karsh.

 

The shock mostly hit the vase as he pulled back the head but Karsh could still feel the electricity go through his beak. After a few seconds he decided to take a gamble and walked out from his hiding position behind the vase with both wings raised high in the air. 

 

"Good, I accept your surrender. Now who sent you. What are you doing in the Imperial Palace?"

 

Her left hand was gloved, while her right wasn't. The right hand was glowing with magic, while she held a slim knife in her left. 

 

Karsh slowly walked forward towards the blonde woman and stopped a few feet from her, he then waved with one wing for her to get closer. 

 

"No. Answer, my question now. Speak. I know you can." 

 

Karsh just turned his wings and shrugged the best he could. 

 

In a burst of surprising speed, the woman rushed forward, and grabbed Karsh with her right hand.

 

Karsh started croaking almost frantically as the woman's hand sealed around his neck. Then he calmed down and the croaking became less intense as he raised one wing and pointed to the side of her head. 

 

The hand tightened

 

The croaking stopped but he still held out the now slightly shaking wing pointing towards the right side of her head. 

 

 "This is your final chance before I turn you to ash"

 

Karsh brought the wing back to his beak which opened and closed without any croaking coming out and then pointed to the side of Liily's head again. 

 

She moved him closer to her ear.

 

A dampened and struggling voice filled her ear. "Loosen your grip." 

 

Her hand loosened slightly, 

 

"Even though your assumption that I can speak is correct, I can only speak directly into an ear." 

 

"Then speak. Who sent you?"

 

"My boss. Big fella, black hair and beard, is from the north." 

 

"Lord Snow-Strider?" Her face grew slightly pale, but she didn't drop him, "Why did he send you?" 

 

"To check in on Dales and to give you a request for information." 

 

"What does he want?" 

 

"Can you let go of my neck and put me on your shoulder instead? It's hard having to hang like this." 

 

"I would rather talk to you like this." By her voice, you could tell she wasn't in the mood for negotiations. 

 

"He wants you to dig up information about the count of Cheydinhal's family. See how the family works and if there's any internal or external disputes. And to write your findings down on a small letter and only give it to me for delivery." 

 

"Get some dirt in other words?"

 

"Probably just something he can work with. Now can you let go of my neck?"

 

She threw him to the ground.

 

Karsh tumbled around a for a feet before stopping and quickly getting back on his feet. He looked at Lilly and croaked angrily at her for couple of seconds before turning around walking down the corridor. Bloody animal mistreatment. 

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Theodore Adrard

Daggerfall

Morning

 

Several braziers sent their flickering light to all corners of Theodore's room, but despite the numerous fires it was still dark. A few candles on his desk focused the brightness on his parchment. A jar of tar black ink sat nearby, while the pheasant feather quill's colors shone brilliantly, even in the subdued light of of the fires. Theo massaged his temple with his left hand, the massage stopping once he had a a decent layout in mind for his letter.

 

The quill danced across the page, scratching out a letter addressed to none other than the Empress Dales and her husband-to-be, the court mage Skjari. Finally setting the quill down, Theodore took the parchment in between two sets of sausage like, pudgy fingers. He quickly reviewed it, and decided it was to his liking. It read:

 

Dear Empress Dales,

 

How go things back in the Imperial capital? I have good news from High Rock, and also some sad news. Unfortunately, my wife's father passed away, and my wife's sister's husband took the throne. He then attempted to assassinate me, with poison, and a hearing found him guilty. I was forced to execute him, but now I've take the throne.

 

It seems all will not end well, however. My wife's sister escaped, and is probably recruiting the noble families loyal to her, with a plan to put her on the throne. I've called my allies, and we will soon depart to crush this rebellion, and hopefully unite High Rock not only under my rule, but under the Empire's as well. It is because of that point I ask you permission to utilize the Imperial troops stationed here. Though they aren't numerous, their professional and orderly manner of conducting war will be essential to turning the tide.

 

I've heard a few troubling things from Cyrodiil, most notably the execution of General Tullius, in part because of a rebellion. A sad day, but I think you have a very capable replacement in General Ceno, or whoever you choose for that matter. I also heard you are due to be married to your court mage, and I congratulate you both and wish you a happy marriage. Please do not think that I am angry, or that I feel slighted by your not choosing my son. I understand the politics behind it, and know this to be the best and most reasonable choice.

 

I wish you a happy marriage, and I hope that you can steer the Empire towards prosperous days. Please remember my request, and consider it with due diligence. I also would appreciate a quick reply, as I will send this with the utmost haste.

 

Sincerely,

 

King Theodore Adrard

 

Theodore folded the letter, then stamped it with a wax seal, bearing the family crest, a black bull with flaming eyes, and underneath it the initials TA. The King of High Rock gave the letter to a courier, who had waited patiently outside the room.

 

"Get this to the Imperial City as quickly as possible," Theodore ordered the Breton courier.

 

"Yes, your majesty," the courier said with a bow, before sprinting from the castle.

 

Theodore smiled, the notion that he was now the king one worth grinning about. As he walked towards the town itself, he passed his mother conducting court business in the great hall. She sat on the throne, several lesser nobles seated at the table in front of her. As Theo walked through, he made out bits of the conversation, and it sounded like they were discussing how many men to send with Theodore when he left. The king didn't catch much of the conversation, as he and his entourage of guards exited the hall fairly quickly.

 

Theodore had around ten men escorting him, along with several disguised as peasants dispersed in the town, all placed along his route. He took no chances, not wanting anything to ruin his plans, or his reign. Which is why he and Elayne had been trying again, hoping that more heirs meant a smaller chance of losing their foothold on the throne.

 

The guarded king soon reached his destination, as the crowds quickly cleared to let their liege pass. It was the waterfront district, specifically Henry Leland's office. He entered the main warehouse area, where strong backed men lifted crates or rolled barrels, moving goods to and from ships. Across the bustling floor stood a staircase, which he ascended as quickly as a man of his stature could be expected to.

 

Theo lightly rapped on the door, which bore an emblem of a cog at sea, along with a semi-circle of words saying Leland Shipping Co. A somewhat high pitched voice said "Enter," and the king obliged, strutting into the room.

 

"Your majesty," the midget of a man said, bowing as he did. "Please, be seated. What brings you to my office on such a fine day?"

 

Theodore, dressed in fine silken clothes, black and green and blue, sat before one of the only people in High Rock, let alone Daggerfall, that could command the utmost respect from the shrewd politician.

 

"I've come with a proposition, friend. Don't bother with drinks either, I'm not in the mood," Theodore said, as his host had risen to bring over a platter of drinks, so Henry promptly sat down.

 

"Ah, a proposition...this couldn't have anything to do with the recent execution, and the escaped former queen, could it?" Mr. Leland asked, stroking his triangular goatee with thumb and index finger.

 

"I figured you'd heard. No surprise, you were always well informed. Yes, it does have something to do with that," Theodore said, rising as he did, and turning to look out the large window that overlooked the harbor.

 

"How many ships do you have, here, with you?" Theodore asked, his smirk unseen by the businessman.

 

Hmph, dramatics won't help you fat man, Henry thought, referencing the theatrical back turn.

 

"Well, I have a fleet of forty ships, but only fifteen here, and of those ten are not in use. They were trading with the Alinor and Valenwood prior to the Falkreath Incident, but ever since then I have them occasionally sailing to minor ports, Jehanna, Taneth, and Dawnstar. Most just sit, because I can't over saturate the market with constant trading. Why do you ask, my liege?" Henry said, leaning back in his chair to loosen up a little.

 

"Dawnstar and Taneth and Jehanna..." Theodore repeated, still looking over the port, while Henry just rolled his eyes at the melodramatic flair. "How would you like to sell me those vessels of yours?"

 

"That's a pretty fair sum, even for a king, not that I'm saying you couldn't afford it, of course. It's just, that's would put a strain on anyone's coffers," Henry replied, eyebrows raised.

 

Theodore returned to his seat, the smirk disappearing as he did, while Henry's eyebrows reset to their normal position.

 

Shrewd man, Henry, and every bit a businessman as Nords are warriors. He still thinks I'm overly dramatic, but where's the fun in letting someone know the true you? Count Brutus thinks me an avid partier, General Ceno a fat drunk, Empress Dales a poor upstart. And Mr. Leland thinks me a a performer, a dramatist. None completely true, but also not completely false, Theodore thought, letting the slight frown on his face linger, so as to plant little seeds of doubt in Henry.

 

"The cost in gold is exactly why I won't be offering you septims in return, but two things instead. The first, a chance for you to acquire not only land, but a title as well. I would bestow upon land near Wayrest, after I take care of a few things there. I'm sure that piques your interest, no? While it is not the extraordinarily grand city it once was, I have little doubt you could remedy that, given time," Theodore smiled after he finished speaking, his grin ever so pleasant and genuine, but of course neither thing could be believed to be true.

 

Henry's face didn't change, except a single raised eyebrow when the king first mentioned the prospect of a title and land.

 

I could do a lot near Wayrest. Land and a title would only increase my holdings, while the city itself has always been a trading hub, Henry thought, internally very interested but externally calm and cool.

 

"And the second thing, your highness?" the Breton businessman said simply, betraying no emotion.

 

"I would like to create a national bank, with you as the head. Of course, you'd still report to me, and their would be a council to assist you, but I hope this way we can consolidate all of our wealth into one single series of banks. Seeing as you have a history in banking and financial success, it is only obvious you have some say in the creation," Theodore said, smile still plastered on his face.

 

It's usually me wearing the smile in these meetings, but of course I'm always in control of those meetings too. There's never any control with a man who could execute me for by given reason. Still, it's a sound proposition, one that I would be foolish to pass up on, Henry thought, still stroking his goatee.

 

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to make that deal. Nothing personal, just business," Henry said, tapping his fingers on the desk, done with his beard petting.

 

Theodore just shook his head, looking very disappointed. Nervous much? First the goatee, now the tapping. Or maybe he's just restless. Either way, it's time to end this.

 

"I'm so very disappointed in you Henry, I thought you smarter than this. It looks like things will have to be done the hard way, it seems," Theodore solemnly said.

 

What?! He won't kill me for this surely, it just haggling, business...no he's, just messing with me, that's all, no need to panic, Henry started a cold sweat, but he showed no signs of fear.

 

Theodore called out "Guard," which cause a guard to enter at once with a small box. The king proceeded to open it once the guard left. Looking first at the box's contents, then at Henry, Theo said, "I expected more, frankly. And here I was hoping it would be simple."

 

Henry stared hard at the box, wondering what was in it. A dagger? Poison? Some kind of torture device? No, he won't kill me, but I've heard rumors that he's ruthless, maybe even evil. What is it?

 

Theodore looked inside the box once more, then closed it and spun the wooden container around to it faced Henry. "Why don't you open that up, and see if it changes your mind," the king said dryly.

 

Henry opened it quickly, not sure what to anticipate. Inside sat several large jewels, the largest of them the size of a grape, much to the breton businessman's pleasant surprise. Just more theatrics, phew. Henry thought.

 

"Ah, yes, I think that'll do nicely. You may have ten of the ships, while I get this lovely box of jewels, a title, and position as Head Banker. Works out nicely, I'd say," Mr. Leland said, now the proprietor of his trademark faux smile.

 

"I should've expected you'd want the jewels from the start, you greedy business men are all the same. I'll have them gone by tomorrow, don't worry. Their captains will be given the choice to either quit or join my service. Either way, I have plenty of men to man them," Theodore said, rising to leave.

 

"I'm afraid you never said why you needed them, your majesty," Henry said, rising as well.

 

"That's right, I didn't. It doesn't need to be said either," Theodore said gruffly, much the way he did with merchants and businessmen, knowing better than to engage in salesmen talk.

 

"My apologies, of course. I want aware it was a secret," Henry said, following Theo as he walked towards the door. "Speaking of secrets, I thought you'd like to know your missing queen contacted me. Via courier of course."

 

"I'm assuming it wasn't to ask you about how your day had been," Theodore said, now stopped in front of the exit.

 

"Uh, no sir. She wanted a loan. She didn't say what for."

 

"Of course not, she isn't that stupid. Most likely to raise an army, or hire one. She'll find her efforts bear little fruit, however. No army large enough exists to resist what I have planned for her. Good day, Mr. Leland. Thank you for your ships," the King of High Rock said, leaving as he did.

 

Henry wipe sweat from his brow the minute Theo was out of sight, then sank down into his plush desk chair. He couldn't ever pinpoint it, but something about that King Adrard through him off, knocked him off his game, and it frightened him more than anything in the world.

 

Theodore smirked as he descended the stairs, addressing the nearest guard, "I so do love my job at times."

 

The guard nodded, replying, "Me too sir."

 

"Alright, enough chit chat. Off to Fort Sandwall on the morrow, so get some sleep boys," Theo commanded, so the men headed back to the castle.

 

**

 

Fort Sandwall sat a few minutes north of Daggerfall by horse, just an intersection of two roads. It was fairly new, only half a century old or so, and housed a great deal of the Imperial garrison in High Rock. The fresh stone was a stark contrast to the old, dreary, weathered look of Daggerfall, and it's dragon banners flew proud atop four main towers. The royal entourage, consisting of a around a hundred or so troops, which is what Joselyn Gaerhart and her court had decided on, came to a stop outside the new fort. The ships Theo bought sailed ahead, maybe already docked at Camlorn. It wouldn't be long for Theo's troupe, but this stop would add time.

 

Theo and several men approached the gate, while a sentry yelled down, "Who goes there?"

 

"The King of High Rock!" a guard called out, causing the oak doors to swing open with a long creak.

 

"Take me to your commander, please," Theo instructed another soldier, one who appeared to be a little higher ranking.

 

"Yessir," the tribune said, leading the king an his men through a few passages before stopping in front of a simple wooden door.

 

"The legates inside," the man said, before quickly leaving to resume whatever it is he was doing.

 

Theodore knocked, deciding even as king he should extend someone the curtesy to allow him entrance.

 

There was a slight pause, and then the muffled reply.

"Come on in."

 

Theodore's large hands gripped the doorknob and twisted it to the right, pushing as he did. The rusted iron hinges groaned like an old man, and the smell of finished oak and strong drink assaulted Theo's nostrils, which flared to take in the pleasant aromas, mixing to compliment each other nicely.

 

"Legate," Theodore addressed the middle-aged soldier, who's black hair was short and close cropped, and a shadow of stubble covered his jaw.

 

"Tidings." the man responded in a bored tone, eyes just coming up from a document on his desk. "What is the-..."

He stopped as his eyes took in Theodore's wide frame. It seemed as though the Legate had been about to go into a typical greeting of his when speaking to privileged nobility. It was obvious by his tone that he had said the same words to countless lords and ladies, but the moment he realized who he was speaking to, things changed.

"Forgive me, King Adrard." he glanced around the room, began to stand, then stopped himself, probably remembering that he was of the Legion, not High Rock. Still, it was clear that he was not prepared for this meeting. "Please, have a seat."

 

"Don't fret, I haven't been king long enough to warrant such greetings yet," the king said with a laugh, patting his rotund belly before taking his seat.

 

Theodore looked at the black haired Breton legionnaire, who looked obviously uncomfortable with the presence of the new King of High Rock.

 

"I come with a request, Legate...I'm sorry, I don't know your name?" Theodore said apologetically, his eyes appearing completely sincere.

 

The Legate relaxed a bit. "Reyderic Montrose," he answered, sounding more composed than before.

 

"Ah yes, now I remember. And how go things here in High Rock for the legion?" Theodore asked, his smile relaxing so his face was simply calm, placid.

 

"Heh, in all honesty it starts to feel more like leading a guild branch than a military one. We weren't given enough soldiers to garrison the forts we are under orders to man, and so we had to recruit a lot of the boys locally."

Reyderic sighed. "Sometimes it almost feels like the folks down in the good old Heartland have forgotten that they even put us up here. We get more help and supplies from trading with locals than we do from Cyrodiil.

... Not that I'm complaining." he assured hurriedly. "It's hardly a difficult post. You people keep your own order well enough."

Legate Reyderic smiled. "So that's my unofficial update, actually, I'll probably just write all that down, word-for-word, perhaps add a just a few little details, and make it my official report, and send it south." He chuckled. "How do you think Empress Motierre would feel about the Legion being run like a guild?"

 

"Not sure how our young Empress would respond, I've met her personally and still she confounds me, but that may be a product of her age and the difference in how we think," Theodore rubbed the fine wooden chair he sat in, his fingers tracing over the grain as he spoke.

 

"I hope you lot haven't gotten too complacent," Theo said with a chuckle, "because I just requisitioned your use from her majesty. We have some rebels forming, my sister-in-law's allies who purport that I took the throne...well, I'm not sure what they claim, seeing as I was the one nearly assassinated. But it really matters little, as I've already begun amassing my forces in preparation. I do not doubt the Empress will say yes to my request, but even so I wanted to gather your thoughts on the matter."

 

The Legate looked perplexed. "You're going to war? Like in Skyrim? That explains the troop movements, then. We recently wrote White Gold about that but have yet to see a response. We all assumed it was Dominion-related, that you were prepping them for going south."

Reyderic took a moment to breath. "Sorry, this is... a lot to take in. So you're asking for Legion assistance against these rebels. So much for quiet post, eh? Well don't you worry, if the Empress gives the okay, my men will march with you." He paused again, but he did not look nervous or afraid. He just looked shocked.

"... It's been a long time since most of these men have fought anything but bandits or the odd ogre, and some of the newer ones have very little experience beyond their training. I honesty hope your request is accepted. Most of them could benefit from seeing real battles before the next Great War."

 

"I see it the same way. I'd rather have a fewer hardened veterans than numerous green boys, so this gives us good chance at real world training," Theodore flashed a quick smile, but his face soon turned back to stoic stone.

 

"You should've seen the butt kissing I did in the letter. My nose came away browner than my mustache! I'm sure you've had to do the same, though, given your job. If you don't mind me asking, what're your number legate?" the king asked, head titled slightly to reflect his asking a question.

 

"All together? We number at around five hundred men throughout the province. Like I said, they're mostly inexperienced, but still well-trained."

 

"Well, I hope by the time this ends you'll have one of the finest fighting groups in all of Tamriel, sir. Both of our men will be well prepared once this conflict is over. I don't foresee it being easy, by any stretch of the imagination, but I've prepared appropriately and don't see it stretching out for very long," Theodore said in a commanding tone, but not like he was giving orders. It just suggested he was in charge, which he was being the king.

 

"Well like I said, when the Empress gives the order, you have our support. I'll write a letter myself as well. Perhaps it will help your case."

 

"I appreciate the thought, Legate. Well, I think I'll be off now, sir," Theodore said, easing out of his chair and rising.

 

"It was good to meet you, your majesty. Here's hoping your reign works out better than Rolston's." Reyderic tapped a fist to his chest and nodded as a gesture of respect. "Something about you makes me think you will make a good king."

 

"And you a great general, Reyderic," Theodore said, bowing his head slightly before leaving in a flourish of cape, the door shutting resoundly behind him.

 
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Maggie, Karsh

West Weald

Early morning

 

A layer of frost blanketed the countryside, but on a terrace overlooking the heath, a woman stood before an easel dressed in nothing but a black silk dressing gown and slippers.  She was apparently heedless of the cold. Behind her, smoke rose from the chimney of a large, Nordic style hunting lodge.

 

The painting on her easel wasn't of the countryside before her, though it was a landscape. In the foreground of the painting were tall, craggy mountains, snow-riven and forbidding.  In the right-hand corner of the painting was the Imperial City, small and frail in comparison to the mountains, and beyond that the colors turned a dark swirl of green, purple and black, a void.

 

The woman, Magdela Bathory, dabbed at the blackness a bit, then stood back to inspect her work, and sighed in frustration.

 

As she inspected the painting, with her keen hearing she heard the soft sound of wings by a bird flying towards her. Before she could however make out where the bird came from the black bird had already landed on top of her painting, starring at her with a tilted head for a small moment before raising one wing like it was greeting her.

 

Maggie looked up, brush in midair, and smiled at the bird. "Well aren't you a clever little fellow. And bold, as well. Here to beg, are you?  I don't suppose you're an art critic."

 

The raven looked down on the painting he was standing on, examined it for a couple of seconds and then looked up at Maggie again and shook his head.

 

Momentarily startled that the bird actually understood her question, Maggie laughed and gestured toward the cottage. "Come to the door, then, and I'll see if I can nick some toast from my guards' breakfast. It's too cold to paint anyway. The pigment keeps drying out."

 

The bird jumped off the painting and flew to the cottage where he landed next to the door, looking back at her as if waiting for her to open it.

 

Maggie left the terrace door open as she went inside and found her nightblades at their breakfast. The smoke from the chimney was from their fire, and they had not only toast with butter and jam but sausages, ham and fried eggs at the little kitchen table.

 

"My lady, sit," one of them said, jumping up. It was a surprise for them to see her wanting breakfast. The mistress fed herself at night, typically, and from a different larder than their own.

 

"No, no, it's not for me. We have a visitor."  Maggie picked up a piece of buttered toast and returned to the door, ignoring the strange looks from her guards as she held it out for the bird to take.

 

The raven took the toast and started tearing off pieces that he ate greedily. And very soon the the food was gone.

 

"Hungry, are you?"  Maggie returned to the table and took another piece of toast, returning to give it to the raven. Her guards exchanged glances but said nothing. They were accustomed to stranger things than this.

 

As greedily but not really as viciously he ate up that toast as well. Then when looking back the guards that were almost staring at him, he stuck out his tongue at them.

 

Laughing, Maggie said, "Now sir raven, be nice. They are giving up part of their breakfast. But I say, you still look hungry. Would you rather come in and have your own plate?"  She glanced back at the guards. "You don't mind, do you, lads. I suspect this clever boy once belonged to someone. Nikol, go fetch my painting supplies from the terrace and take them into the parlor, will you. I'm going up to get dressed."

 

She left the raven's care to the put-upon guards, except for Nikol, who set about his assignment.  The others, after some hesitating and whispers, stacked books up on Nikol's chair and set out a plate of food for the raven. They all knew better than to grumble out loud. One didn't just retire gently from Bathory service. Not intact, anyway.

 

With a few flaps the raven had flown up on top of the books and started eating from the plate while giving the guards equally suspicious glances back at them as they gave him.

 

Despite her friendliness, the woman appeared to have forgotten all about her "houseguest," returning downstairs and going to the parlor where her painting had been set up again by the window.  In fact her manner was more strained than usual, and distracted, her friendliness more from habit than any true feeling.

 

The guards, meanwhile, watched the raven wolf down food like a grown man.  "There's nothing left!" one of them exclaimed finally, when the bird seemed to expect more.

 

Only then did Maggie return to the kitchen.  She was dressed in riding clothes, still finely tailored though nothing fancy. "Still here, hungry magpie? I suppose you should come through to the parlor then. You can't stay here permanently, as I won't be here long myself and the cottage will soon be empty, but I could do with some company."

 

The lodge was decorated with the stuffed kills of generations of Bathory relatives, including a stuffed hawk, though no ravens.  On the mantelpiece sat the dragon statue from Skjari's office, head high as if presiding over all the others even though it was smaller.  Maggie returned to her easel and began to putter with tubes of paint.

 

The raven quickly nicked a small remaining slice of meat from one of the guards plate and flew away from the table before any of them could react. He landed on Maggie's shoulder and gulped the meat down. She then heard in ear closest to where the raven sat, "You're not easy to find. But thanks for the food."

 

Starting, Maggie dropped the paintbrush, streaking the hardwood paneled floor with sky blue. It wasn't easy to surprise her. "I... Did you just..."  She stared at the bird on her shoulder, unsure if the stress and loneliness of the previous weeks and her self-imposed exile were playing tricks on her mind. It wasn't easy to feed out here in the countryside, as the faint glow in her eyes attested.

 

The raven gave up a short croaking that gave the impression of laughter. "I believe I just did."

 

Maggie paused. "You were looking for me? For what purpose? I gather if you were a Thalmor bird, you'd have already pecked my eyes out. Tried to, anyway."

 

"You'd probably just shoot lightning at me if I had tried that. I'm here because boss told me to check if you're still alive."

 

"Who is boss? I am alive, as you can see."  Undead, technically, but the term was so morbid.

 

"Big fella from the north. Black hair. You know him."

 

"Skjari?" Maggie's smile returned. "By the divines, he's trained a real live..."  She stopped, and mumbled a spell to check. "Yes, you are alive, not a spirit or mechanical. I shouldn't wonder, with all the food you put away. Remarkable!  How is our emperor-to-be?"

 

"On his way south to Leyawiin when I left him. And Bravil's got a lot fewer skooma dealers. Pity he didn't stay for the executions, I really wanted to feast on some tasty eyeballs."

 

"Don't worry, war is coming and that should give you plenty of those to feast upon. So Skjari is attending to the south. I am glad to hear it. It was kind of him to send you all this way to look in on me. How did you find me?"

 

"First I went to Skingrad, didn't find you. Flew around the city but still didn't find you. Then I found a drunk guard that told me a little about the Bathory family estates. He then went on mumbling about quitting the bottle because of hallucinating talking birds."

 

Maggie laughed and bent over to retrieve her brush, a delicate affair with a raven perched on her shoulder. Returning it to the palette, she said, "I was called to Skingrad, but I didn't go. I'm a writer, you see, not a painter, but the writing isn't going very well. I came here to try to finish my book, before..."  Her words trailed off.

 

Changing the subject, she turned and gestured at the dragon on the mantelpiece, addressing it. "Malyolkril!  Wake up and greet your comrade."

 

The little dragon shuddered, its gem eyes opened, and its head turned to look. The statuette then belched fire with a sound of disgust.  A bird, not even another dragon.

 

Smiling, Maggie said to Karsh, "Another of Skjari's pets. I couldn't part with it when I left the city."

 

"I think I've seen it before. Got a more closeup introduction with his big brother though. I just wanted to look a little closer at what it was guarding and next thing I know I'm pinned to the ground with it's stone jaws wrapped around my neck. This one doesn't seem to be more friendly towards me."

 

"It's a dragon, or a figure of one. They're prickly. And how shall I address you?"

 

"Boss named me Karsh. And that's what I'm usually called by people who know me. Those who don't usually just call me a thief. You said you were writing a book?"

 

"Karsh."  Maggie reached up a hand and brushed a finger over the raven's feathers. "I'm supposed to be. My last work."  She paused before adding, "For a while. I feel I owe to certain persons the immortality of literature, a kind of immortality only achievable by extreme magical means...  But forgive me, you aren't likely a literary critic, either. I'll bore you with such talk. I should offer you a better gift for your services than just a country breakfast. What sort of reward would suit you?"

 

"A shiny."

 

"Something shiny? Like a piece of jewelry? I don't have my whole collection with me, but we ought to find you something suitable."  Maggie walked up the short stairs, the raven still on her shoulder, to her room. She picked up a jewelry box from the dressing table and opened it, ruffling through the delicate gold chains and gem-crusted earrings. "See anything you like? Are you just going to hide this away in some nest of yours, or do you have a mate you'll bring it to?"

 

"To my hideaway. My line of work doesn't really allow for mating. Got a few friends back in the tower city though, but they would just steal it from me as I steal from them. It's raven game."

 

"I see. Well take this, then. It ought to be unique enough."  She selected a gold and ruby bracelet formed from cunningly entwined thin strands into the body of a snake, the head biting its tail at the clasp. "It is Saxhleel make, very rare nowadays."

 

One of the guards called up from downstairs. "My lady, you have another visitor."

 

Maggie's expression went sober. She might have grown pale, except that her enchantments always kept up a healthy, rosy glow to her skin. The raven's visit may have been serendipitous, but this likely was not. "Very well, I'll be right down," she called back. "You will have to excuse me, Karsh. This is probably important."

 

Karsh didn't really care about market value or rarity, all he cared about was that it was shiny. But he didn't really care about choosing and just jumped off her shoulder and to the jewelry box and picked up a small emerald encrusted ring instead and hid it under the chest feathers. Maggie had gone down the stairs while he hid the ring so he hopped over to the staircase to get a good look at downstairs, spying was what he was trained for after all.

 

At the door was a young girl, thin and frail looking with blonde hair. "My lady, your father sent me," she said, a fearful waver in her voice.

 

"Leni. I expected he'd send Jem."

 

"Your brother is missing, my lady."

 

There was a silence, then Maggie said, "Very well. I must get my things. Come on, you should help me pack."

 

As the two women ascended the stairs again, Leni started at sight of the bird.

 

"Just a friend," Maggie said, as if this explanation covered everything. "Sir Karsh, it seems I must vacate earlier than I'd expected. Did you find something you like?"

 

Karsh lifted his wings in a shrug and flew up on the table by the jewelry box and started to look for another little piece. Maggie couldn't see the emerald ring under his feathers and she didn't need to know.

 

Caught up in her own thoughts, Maggie seemed entirely unconcerned about the state of her jewelry box. From her walk-in wardrobe, she called out, "How is Mother?"

 

"Countess Anna is well,  milady. As well as usual."

 

"Which is to say, not very."

 

"Count Darius hasn't told her about Lord Janus. Said it would upset her. I think he means you to find him, milady. That, and he wants to talk about the empress and such."

 

"Of course. Though I don't know the latest."

 

"You're not living in the palace any longer, milady?"

 

"No."

 

Leni began folding the dresses that Maggie was throwing out on the bed. "They say we'll have a new emperor soon. The court wizard is marrying the empress. Wasn't he...?"

 

"Yes. Was."  Maggie appeared from the wardrobe again and walked over to the nightstand where Karsh was ruffling through the jewelry. "What do you know of the empress, my greedy little friend?"

 

Karsh looked up from the jewelry box and waved with one wing for her to get closer.  Maggie leaned down, while the servant watched them with surreptitious glances.  He stretched his neck so his beak got close to her ear. "Always hold your ear next to me if you want to hear me speak, I'm a bit tired of having to wave people closer. Anyway, I know that she's short, blonde and doesn't really like ravens."

 

"I was thinking more of how she fares now, since the assassination attempts and with the upcoming wedding. Do you know any of it?"

 

"She's a lot more stiff. You didn't hear this from me but as boss put it: 'She got a stick up her ass.' And I don't know much about the wedding, only that boss traveled south to get it approved by the council. Does this mean it has been approved?"

 

"I see. Well, Dales could do with being a bit stiff, at least in public. I haven't heard of any major opposition to the marriage, except Cheydinhal, who won't shut up." Brushing at the bird's wing with her finger, she turned back to Leni, who was now studiously avoiding watching the two converse. Walking over to the bed, Maggie began stuffing some of the folded clothes into her valise. She kept talking as if she had been talking to the servant all along. "I've done all I can for Lord Skjari now. Once the threat from Jon Hard-Heart was lifted and I knew the Council would give him a hearing, the best I could do was withdraw from the palace. Now we must all see what sort of emperor he will make."

 

"Yes, milady," Leni murmured. She wouldn't express an opinion even if she had one.

 

Maggie returned to the wardrobe. Half to herself, she continued talking. "I've considered the prospect that he is a spirit of Pelinal, you know.  Perhaps called forth after the Oblivion Crisis by the scheming of that doomed Priory near here, the one the Thalmor raided even though it was only full of old people and ghosts.  But there is more caution in Skjari and less zeal."  A pause, as more clothes flew out onto the bed.  "No, his gifts and his weaknesses are of the Nords, not of the divines.  Recapitulating wars of the Dawn, but forgetting why they do so.  He is only left with the hatred of elves and nothing more.  Not that we imperials remember ourselves, either.  Perhaps the only honest ones left in Tamriel are the Thalmor.  And for that, they might win."

 

The servant girl was only half listening. Being Anna Bathory's favorite chamber maid, she got a lot of practice at tuning out nonsensical talk. Absently she said, "They say it was the Thalmor behind the attack on poor Lady Fidenas' estate. Maybe she'll see you, milady. She won't see no one else but one or two maids."

 

Poking her head out of the wardrobe, Maggie said, "Jocasta? What are you talking about?"  She hadn't seen her acquaintance since Dales' coronation, and didn't relish the thought. At the coronation party, Maggie had convinced Jocasta that the new empress would look out for the Nibeneans' interests, but that was political talk, mostly empty.

 

"Oh, you wouldn't have heard, I'm sorry, milady. There was an attack on Lady Fidenas' estate. Some Khajiit bandits or terrorists or something, killed most of the family." Leni glanced at the raven before adding, "Lady Jocasta escaped and your father gave her refuge in the castle. The servants say... the cats, they..." The girl stopped short.

 

"Raped her. I see. Poor Jocasta. It seems Skjari's trip south was none too soon."  Maggie came out slowly, considering all of this. Her eyes fell on the mess of clothes on the bed.  "This is a waste of time. I'll not need any of this. It's likely I'll not need anything at all. Leni, shut the valise and let's go. Leave the rest."

 

Turning to Karsh, she came back and leaned down to him as she'd been instructed. "I must leave now, Sir Karsh. You'll have traveled long to find me, I expect, so you'll want a rest before you return to 'boss' in the south. I'll instruct a nightblade to stay behind and feed you whatever you want. Is that satisfactory?"

 

"What's going on?" Karsh sounded quite curious.

 

"I'm being summoned to return home. It was inevitable. I'm surprised he let me alone this long. My father keeps a tight leash on all our family."

 

"And what was that rambling about Pelinal and wars and Thalmor about?"

 

"Oh, nothing. I've been by myself for weeks now and am prone to chatter. All I know about the Thalmor is that they appear to be too busy at the moment to bother with me. No doubt Skjari's doing, and that handsome admiral who's gone missing, poor soul. I hope he got my package." Straightening, Maggie went on, "If Jem has gone missing, no doubt Father thinks we're together conspiring. Ironic. Lord Janus is not here, Leni, in case you were wondering."

 

"Of course, milady. I'm ready."  The thin girl was struggling to pick up Maggie's case, so the countess called up her nightblade guards and gave them quick instructions to bring her things to Skingrad Castle, with one of them staying behind to care for Karsh and lock the cottage up after he had gone.

 

After the servants had left, Maggie turned back to look at the raven. "Try to leave at least one or two pieces from that jewelry box behind for me. For luck. And tell your boss... tell him that I miss him."

 

Karsh waved her down so he could speak with her. "Sure, I'll tell him. And who's this Janus? And what conspiring?"

 

She listened, then straightened again and sighed. "He is my brother. Be glad that you weren't sent to find him. He'd have invited you to stay to supper, as the main course. I'm sure it's nothing. He's gone off whoring without permission, no doubt."

 

Karsh jumped down from the table and towards the stairs, looked back at Maggie one more time and just gave her a quick nod, then looked down the stairs and saw one the nightblade guards, an average looking female imperial with shoulder long brown hair tied up in a ponytail at the back of her head. He flew down the stair and straight to the guard and landed on her shoulder. "Now you are going to do exactly as I say. Miss Bathory says so. Now go up and fluff up the pillows, then go down and roast and slice some tender meat, then you shall bring me the meat on a plate and feed me the meat piece by piece while I relax on the pillows. Got it?"

 

The guard looked from the bird to Maggie and back. "My lady, am I to...?"

 

"Yes, yes. It's a magical bird, some accommodation must be made." Maggie hadn't heard what the raven demanded, but cared neither about that nor what the nightblade thought of it. There were more important matters on her mind, and far worse duties that she had asked of nightblades before.

 

She took a last, regretful look at the stacked manuscript on the desk before turning and resolutely leaving it behind.

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Tacitus, Maori, Gracchus

Valenwood/Skingrad

Afternoon

 

Tacitus turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees, his shoulders twisting to allow such movement, as he gave the forests of Valenwood one final look. He could still smell the sap, thick and heavy, and the leaves rustling drifted to his ears as well, which were red and raw from bugs and the thick jungle, which took as much a toll on him as did the Thalmor. Tacitus' rags hung in shambles, his pack having more cloth than his clothes. His pants were now basically a loin cloth, with a rope tied around his waist upon which his cutlass hung, and he had no shirt to speak of, revealing a horrible rash of some sort and numerous scars from Thalmor mistreatment, although none were near as bad as was possible. His chest was still prominent, and his arms, but his face was sad, and his broken nose all the worse for wear. His platinum blonde hair streaked with brown, and hunt shaggily down below his shoulders.

 

Still looking back, Tacitus could see occasional glimpses of gold flashing in and out of the trees, Thalmor soldiers preparing for the inevitable war. Ahead, Imperials donned in leather and steel armor did the same, eyeing the one handed Imperial just as wearily as they did his Bosmeri companion. They walked across no mans land, a thin strip of plain in between the two armies, every soldier watching their steps.

 

"Warm welcome, eh?" Tacitus asked Maori, who he'd come to respect, but not necessarily know the last few days.

 

"Better than I expected." Maori said, not at all liking being where he was, but knowing it was necessary. He heard of all the mistreatment elves received in Cyrodiil lately, but he hoped being with the Admiral would help him. Still, he was cautious. "Well, you saw mine, now show me yours. Your homeland, I mean."

 

"I hope that's what you mean. I don't happen to swing that way, haha," Tacitus said with a light air, trying to hide his nervousness. These men wouldn't recognize him, they were no sailors, and there's no telling how they would react to his letter from General Corio. It was a crapshoot, that much was fact.

 

"We may have to start swinging all sort of ways if this turns south. With our weapons, I mean," said Maori. "For your sake, I hope you really are an Admiral. Me, I'm at least swift on my feet. They'll probably question me as well as you, I assume. May even have to see the inside of a cell for a while."

 

"Wouldn't doubt it, although I'd like to see 'em try and shackle me," Tacitus held up his stump, then chuckled again.

 

They were about to the Imperial defensive line, were ditches filled with spikes waited for them. Several mounds of dirt held abatis, or tree branches with each branch sharpened to a point and the end stuck in the dirt. Chevel de frise, anti-cavalry defenses made the openings in between the outs and mounds strategic choke points, so any attacker would have to filter through the funnel like areas, lined with the sharpened stick traps.

 

"Stop right there!" an Imperial guard cried out, while two others aimed a bow at Tacitus and Maori.

 

"Drop your stuff on the ground, and walk forward. Now," the man said, and Tacitus obliged so as not to provoke them.

 

Maori was about to do the same, but then he caught a glance of one of the Imperials and how he held the bow. He couldn't help what he did next. "You're doing it all wrong. The way you're holding that, the arrow would drift to the side. At worst, you'd graze me." In truth, the Imperial was aiming it just fine, for a human. But it was hard for a Bosmer to accept imperfection with archery.

 

"You really think nows the time to critique him?" Tacitus asked out of the side of his mouth.

 

The soldier stammered, looking mightily embarrassed. "Uh-uh, I-uh, was-"

 

"Just shut up Claude," the guard who shouted the first time said, then commanded, "Drop you weapons, elf, before we drop you."

 

"Alright lads, I'm dropping them," said Maori as he laid his bow and arrows down. As he was removing his hidden daggers from various parts of his armor, he said, "Sorry about that, Tacitus. Was kind of a reaction thing. You humans could learn a thing about archery from us. Especially now."

 

"Hmm, you'll have to take that up with the generals. My naval archers are the best, they have to be to hit targets at sea like that," Tacitus grinned an ugly grin, showing the lack of teeth he now exhibited.

 

The soldiers came out, around four of them, picking up the weapons and escorting the pair towards a ramshackle shack, where Imperial banners hung over the windows. The guards were silent, probably watching the their prisoners. Inside the dimly lit cabin sat a lean, yet muscular general, who looked at a map...angrily, if one could be angry at a map.

 

"What the hell do you want, Tribune? And who's the elf, and blonde-one-hand?" the perturbed man said, almost yelling at the group.

 

"That would be your Admiral, who gave that hand for his land, so watch your mouth, asshole," said Maori. Oops.

 

"Hahahaha! You're a f****** funny Bosmer, ya know that? As if I'd believe that mangy looking mutt could've ever been anyone....important," the general's voice trailed off, his smile fading into a stern frown, possibly realizing this man might be the High Admiral

 

The Imperial general studied his kinsman, trying to distinguish if it was the naval commander. He'd seen him only once, when the man first became admiral, as he'd been apart of the selection committee. Tacitus probably didn't remember him, one face in thirty. But the general thought he did, the blonde hair and the horribly crooked nose both looked familiar, as did the large frame of the man.

 

"What's your name, Imperial?" the general asked, hoping questions would reveal the man's identity.

 

"Tacitus, and considering what he went through, I think you should speed this up so we can get some damn rest. He deserves that, at least. And a meal. With meat. Lots of meat. And maybe some for the friendly Bosmer that assisted him, hmm?" Before the wave of suspicion from his own people hits. It's a shame, but I can't blame them.

 

Tacitus was about to answer when Maori jumped in. S*** Maori, just be quiet, please, he thought.

 

"Tacitus Silus Meridius, sir. High Admiral of the Imperial navy, er, I was before my ship was sunk. I was captured by the Thalmor, and tortured, before...I escaped. Maori here assisted when they were transferring me to a new prison. He could tell I was important, so he and a few friends got me out of there. They didn't make it, sadly. Look, if you don't believe me, check my sword. It's inscribed, I got it when I was promoted," Tacitus said guiltily, knowing that lying was the only option. They wouldn't believe him if he said he was going to deliver an axe, to someone who "stains the snow."

 

The Imperial general rubbed his chin, then motioned with his hand for the sword. He pulled it out of the scabbard, then flipped it over to read the inscription. High Admiral Tacitus Silus Meridius it said, and the general glanced up warily eyeing the pair.

 

"General Tyrellius Flaccus, of the Tenth Legion. Pleasure to meet you both. I'll grant you food and lodging for the night," the usually foul mouthed Tyrellius was decidedly cleaner tongued, something his men found quite unusual.

 

"That's more like it," Maori said, completely oblivious to how little his demeanor helped. He was going to ask the general info on Skyrim and the alliance Cyrodiil had, but figured that would be suspicious. "So, what happens after that?"

 

"I assumed sea-ninny here would probably want to return to the capital to look after his precious boats, so you lot would be leaving ASAP. All the better for it, I don't need any distractions here on the front lines," General Flaccus grumbled out, dropping the niceness.

 

"Boy, you lot sure don't have any respect around here, do you? The man lost his hand. If that's how you treat recent POW's, then the sentiment of wanting us to part is shared." Maori wasn't aware of the irony of talking about respect, given his bad jokes. "In any case, we need to leave asap anyway. He's got a war to get ready for, and I guess I can hang around for a while to give information. Then I'm off to Skyrim. If that's all, I'd like to be shown a room."

 

Tacitus laughed, loud and hearty, and shook his head. "That's how soldiers treat each other Maori. Plus, I wouldn't want to stick around this shitified hole anyway. Place smells like landies, probably no baths for miles. I smell better in prison. We'll leave in the morning, with two horses," Tacitus didn't ask for the horses, but commanded them.

 

Tyrellius grumbled some more, his hands balling up into fists. He wasn't accustomed to taking orders, especially not from a s***-for-brains elf and this sailor.

 

"Whatever. Take the f****** horses. Oh, an by the way, we only have tents. So, these losers will show you to your lovely accommodations. Any more questions?" the general asked, with an evil grin on his face.

 

"I'm a Bosmer from Valenwood. I sleep outside most of the time, branch-romper. So keep on grinning." The only person it will be an inconvenience to is his mother tonight. Maori said this to Tacitus under his breath with a grin.

 

Tacitus slapped his friend on the back, laughing as he did, before they followed the soldiers outside, leaving General Flaccus silently cussing the Bosmer and Admiral.

 

**

 

The next morning, the pair rose early, greeted by plates of hard bread and a porridgey mush that smelled like feet, and tasted little better. Tacitus put on some new clothes, a pair of peasant trousers and tunic.

 

"Well, I guess it's better than the worms you tricked me into eating," Tacitus said before taking a bite. His mouth convulsed into a grimace, and his lips pursed.

 

"Ugh, I take that back."

 

Maori took a sniff, then poured out the food. "Yea, **** that. I'll use the bread to attract some birds, and we can get some meat later. At least the worms didn't smell like Mannimarco's dead asshole."

 

"How would you know, you didn't eat them!" Tacitus exclaimed, then went on eating the mush. He'd eaten worse before, so it wasn't that bad considering all things.

 

"I've had worms before, and a few beetles and so on. Now that's good eating! Crunchy, juicy, then chewy...Mmmm. I like to play with them with my tongue and feel the life smush out of them while I chew slowly. That muck you're going down on... Bleh. There's not even any meat! Not much anyway. I bet it's khajiit. You ever had khajiit? Gives me the runs. Too sweet. Cathey-Raht's pretty good, though."

 

"Gods you're a disgusting creature. As if the cannibalism wasn't enough, you've lowered yourself to eating insects. Anyway, you ruined my appetite, so pack up an lets go," Tacitus looked a little queasy after the bug talk, so he packed quickly and waited for Maori outside.

 

Maori followed behind him while he continued the conversation. "Is it really cannibalism if it's not my race? I mean, yea I eat Bosmer too, but humans and such aren't my race. Anyway, you should try it sometime, it's just meat like anything else. And the bugs, we have beetles the size of your head, and they kinda taste like shrimp, really, except with a different texture and so on. I like to pack them with peppers and slow cook them on a shish kabob over the fire and wrap the whole thing with lemon soaked Cathey Raht tail. Oooh Y'ffre, what I wouldn't do for that meal right now...I'll settle for some seared deer though. Where are we going again?"

 

"Oh shut up about the f****** bugs already! I'm about to hurl," Tacitus pulled himself up on the horse, a strange action with only one hand.

 

"We're going to Skingrad, then to the Imperial City. Skingrad is the closest city, about half a days ride. Then we'll book it to the capital before nightfall, and if we can't just ride into the night. So, get your brown a** up on the horse, and for the love of the gods don't eat the damn thing," Tacitus pleaded the Bosmer.

 

Maori didn't bother hiding his amusement, laughing as he nimbly mounted the beast, then looked down at his grumbling belly. "You better hope we find a minotaur or something, then. Minotaur steak. Auhhhh, I've never had that before...This'll be great! I can see Cyrodiil without having to worry about Justiciars now."

 

"Yay for Maori, the hungry Bosmer who can now travel unassailed. Lets all give a big whoop-de-f******-do for him!" Tacitus mocked, before sending a boot into the horse's flank, causing the beast to gallop off.

 

"Oh hush your grumpy mouth. You're just in a bad mood because you ate the soup equivalent of man spunk, hehe. You're home now, so there's that, if nothing else."

 

"Last I heard, my home was taken over by Skooma smugglers. I grew up in Bravil, and it turned to s*** not long before I was captured. That ship was my real home, out on the ocean. We were givin' the Thalmor a real a** whoopin' too, and I hope they didn't stop on my account," Tacitus said, slowing his steed into a trot.

 

Maori didn't have an answer for that. Tacitus' luck, despite surviving was rather shoddy, so he figured it was best to stay quiet for a while. Anything he said would only make things worse anyway.

 

The admiral pulled on the reins, stopping his horse in front of Maori's. "What, no ill times comment or smart a** remark? Seems all I've got to do to make you quiet is talk about my awful life, which is even worse than you think. My wife and kid died in childbirth, so how's that for tragic? My parents made it out of Bravil okay, so there's that."

 

Tacitus started riding again, the horse resuming the trot. "Funny, I can count on my fingers how many people know that about me. Color yourself lucky," he said grumpily, then rode on in silence.

 

Maori trotted along next to him, then said, "Well in that sense, you're luckier than I. I'm glad you have someone to be proud of what you've done. And to mourn for what it cost."

 

Tacitus lowered his voice and looked away from Maori, saying to himself, "Proud of what I've done, but not of what I'll be doing."

 

He then raised his voice and said, "Whatever. Let's just finish the ride in silence and maybe my mood will improve."

 

Maori looked like he was about to say something else, but then he turned his head in front of him and did as he suggested. His grumbling stomach giving him extra incentive to do so, as it was hard to talk on an empty stomach. Suddenly the stale bread he had didn't seem so bad after all.

 

***

 

By the time the pair reached Skingrad, Tacitus' mood had improved considerably, and they'd started talking again as if nothing had happened. Tacitus was usually the type to hold a grudge, but he'd taken a liking to Maori, even with his recent hatred of the Thalmor growing to enormous proportions.

 

The men got into the city via the western gate, bouncing atop their horses as they waded through the crowd.

 

"You ever been here before?" Tacitus asked his companion.

 

"In Skingrad? Hell no, I avoided this place like the plague. Thalmor crawling all over the place. I stuck to the roads until I got to Cheydinhall to get to the narrow passages in the mountains to Skyrim. Couldn't go through Bruma, that place was crawling with them too, due to the presence of the Nords and the worshipers of Talos and Ysmir. It was a shame too. This place is...so alien. All the stonework..."

 

"What about the Imperial City? Ever visit there? Because if you think this place is alien, just wait," Tacitus said, using his horse to wedge his way into the crowd. Up ahead he saw several men on horseback as well, but he didn't think much of it.

 

"I mean, I saw it...Kinda hard not to see that giant dick standing in the middle of the isle there, but I didn't go in. It would have been suicide for me and my sister for sure. Belly of the beast and all that. She and I spent a number of days camping under the starts looking at it. It just saddened me more to think the Thalmor had it under their grasp, almost like in the days of the Ayleids."

 

"It is rather dick like, isn't it? The gleaming white and gold dick. Rather appropriate since most people see us as dicks anyway," Tacitus laughed a little, but stopped when he saw who the men on horseback were. More Imperial soldiers, with a gray-haired general seated on a dapple gray destrier, or war horse. Both had proud, almost haughty look about them.

 

"Just our luck, looks like we've run into another general. Hope this one isn't a prick like the last," Tacitus told Maori, as they approached the procession.

 

"I think that comes with the job description. Thalmor commanders aren't the only ones I guess. Never met an officer in any military that wasn't at least a bit of a prick. Need to be I guess to command men. That's why it's surprising for me to hear Red-Snow's an officer. Maybe not too surprising. You're a little like him, or at least you seem like you used to be. I can tell you used to be a more easy going person."

 

Tacitus turned and looked at Maori, specifically his crotch.

 

"Yup, just as I suspected, this Red-Snow character has got you all hard. Hmph. I used to be a whole person, physically and emotionally, not torn into pieces by people dying and torture. I'll never rest until very single one of those bastards are killed, and the ones that surrender will get the same punishment I got. Ya know, you aren't the first to help me on this trip. A Khajit, by the name of S'viir. He was crucified, his entrails spilled onto the road and vultures unleashed on his eyes. I hate them more for that than my hand, because at least I'm still alive," Tacitus' voice was venomous, his hatred causing veins to stick out in his neck.

 

"Whatever, let's go talk to this general, let'em know I'm back. Not every day your High Admiral is returned," he said sarcastically.

 

Despite the gruesome details of the khajiit's death, Maori cracked a smile from the hard on comment. He was a good friend who he hadn't seen in a while, so he was naturally excited to see just what he was up to. Maori felt for Tacitus, to be sure, but stories like his were all around. His anger was there, but it had been dulled over the years. Now he mostly fought the Thalmor out of habit more than anything else. Tacitus' freshly kindled severe hate brought back many of the memories in Skyrim as well, with the death of his sister.

 

Tacitus rode his horse up the the general, pulling beside the man. He had an aged face, with a salt and pepper goatee, while his hair was gray going on white. The most striking feature were his bright green eyes, lively things that looked years young than the man that wore them.

 

"Hello?" Gracchus asked the man, somewhat shocked to see such a raggedy person riding a horse.

 

"Didn't figure you'd recognize me, I'm High Admiral Tacitus Meridius, newly escaped from Thalmor custody. Heading back to the capital now," Tacitus said with a reassuring smile, but his overall appearance and lack of teeth only made it slightly creepy.

 

"Is this some kind of joke, sir?" Gracchus asked sternly, his brow furrowing with annoyance.

 

"Take a look," Tacitus handed the general a slip of paper, signed by Geberal Flaccus, identifying Tacitus as who he said he was.

 

Maori felt quite out of place among the Cyrodiils, but he felt it even more so around this new general, whose attire was more ornamented than the last one, and bearing a black cape with the red drake insignia of the Legion on it. But even so, he spoke up to help Tacitus out. "It's true. He was captured by Thalmor. A few of my buddies and I helped him escape, but they didn't make it. We just came out of Valenwood."

 

The Imperial stamp gracing the letter, along with Flaccus' easily recognizable child-like scrawl and profanity laden content all meant it checked out.

 

"I'm General Gracchus Ceno, of the Sixth Legion. We were actually heading over to that inn to stay for the night, and you two are welcome to join us. Smells like you guys could use a bath. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" Gracchus asked Maori with a friendly smile.

 

The smile and lack of suspicion threw him off, especially after the rumors of elf mistreatment from the Empire. Recovering from the surprise of his lack of dickery, he said, "I'm Maori of the wilds of Silvenar. Good to meet you. I've got a bit of information I can give your people and the Nords on troop movement and what forces they have."

 

"Ah, a pleasure to meet you," Gracchus said, continuing to smile, "I'll get you to write those down when we get to the inn."

 

Tacitus watched the general, surprised at the lack of prickness most generals exhibited. He seemed genuinely nice.

 

"What, no questions first, no shackles, no suspicion of me being a spy? Not even going to berate me for being an elf?" said Maori, being suspicious of his politeness.

 

"I had my suspicion, at first, but seeing Admiral Meridius' sword, and the letter you two brought erased those. No one can replicate Tyrellius' gods-awful handwriting, and even the best Thalmor spies couldn't replicate his sailor like mouth, no offense Admiral. Plus, while I don't buy your story, Tacitus fits the description of the Admiral that I heard. But, if you are spies, don't think we won't find out," Gracchus said the last part menacingly, his smiling dropping to show how serious he was.

 

"But a missing hand doesn't seem to fit the description, so I'm guessing the Thalmor did that. I'm sorry, they are truly vile beings," Gracchus told Tacitus, dismounting as they reached the inn.

 

"Nothing you could've done. They'll get there's, from me and the gods," Tacitus said simply, his face stern and hard set.

 

Maori said, "Hmph, you should be glad I'm not a spy. I was able to fool even the Thalmor, and they're experts at that sort of thing. I know how they work. I plan on working as a spy during the war as well. I need some info myself by the way. I need to be filled in on a few things that happened with this alliance. But we can save that talk for later. Right now...I need meat."

 

"I'll tell you what I'm able to. After the you," Gracchus said, holding the door open for the man and mer. The tavern was fairly nice, it being on the upper tier of city inns.

 

"A little fancy for us, eh Maori? I sorta miss the bug infested ground and mile high trees," Tacitus said sarcastically.

 

"Yea, I agree. I always get a little antsy indoors when I can't feel soil beneath my feet," Maori said, dead seriously, not noticing Tacitus' sarcasm. "Not as fun or efficient walking on flat ground, but at least we get to eat again!" Maori raced inside and took a seat at the first table available, taking in the scene of everyone inside, and the smell of old booze on the ground. It was much quieter compared to Nord inns and taverns, that was for sure. And the smell of their drinks was so different from that of Valenwood's, which smelled more like meat gravy, grease and fat than any liquor. But that was because it was. Or rather, it was both, since they didn't use plants for such things.

 

Gracchus sat across from Maori, with Tacitus joining the Bosmer. Gracchus called a waitress over, and asked for a bottle of wine. Cheap wind, but better than anything the admiral as his friend had had.

 

"So, what is it you want to know about Skyrim? I can't tell you everything, but I will tell you what I can," Gracchus said, pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle that had appeared almost instantly, the waitress moving quickly in serving a general, even if his friends were a but raggedy.

 

"Just the basics. What's your relationship with them as far as this alliance goes, what happened in the war, that sort of thing. I have information, but I want to make sure that they will be fighting with you, so I won't waste a trip there giving them info I'll give you. And also if you know who a friend of mine is, named Red-Snow. The Thalmor Royal General is interested in him now all of a sudden, and I'd like to know why now."

 

"Well, I can tell you I just saw Bal-General Red-Snow in Sentinel, when we both met with Governor Jeleen. I'm unsure of why the Thalmor would take interest in him. As for the alliance, it started as a product of Empress Dales approaching me with the idea of rebelling, put together by General Tullius. Red-Snow had tried to convince me during his brief incarceration, but I was a fool and did nothing. We moved, killing their colonel and trapping them between our armies as we attacked the walls. Then the rest was mop up, clearing them out of Helgen and Fort Neugrad. That about answer your questions?" Gracchus asked politely, but he was really not enjoying recounting the events. It seemed like everyone that recognized him wanted to about the events in Skyrim. He was ready to just out it all behind him and move on.

 

Tacitus listens to the story, this being the first tile he'd heard of the real meat of the Falkreath incident. Speaking of meat, the waitress brought out three plates of fresh ox-steak, pink in the middle and filled with more juices than a fruit.

 

Maori attacked the meat as soon as it hit the table in a blind savage swirl of biting and tearing at the steak. His mouth salivated so hard at first, that his mouth ached from the sudden onset. Before talking, he licked the plate clean, then let the food settle for a while before he spoke. Maori finally spoke up, and got Gracchus to give him more specific's being interested in his friend's adventures while he was gone, and eventually was told about the avalanche, the siege, the militia, even about Lorgar, the Witchie character, and etc etc. "Wow, that all's...wow." I can't believe it, that girly bard turned out to be something after all. And MARRIED! I can't believe it...

 

"Thank you for humoring me, I'm sure you can understand my interest. It makes sense now why the Thalmor guy's interested, but it's nothing you'd be concerned about."In fact, knowing this, I think it's a bit insulting. This Corio let their Admiral go just to deliver a message. Either he's over confident, or he meant it to be an insult, or both."Anyway, knowing all that, I can safely assure that I'll be utilized during the war to my full capabilities, since I have friends in high places in Cyrodiil and Skyrim. So knowing that, what would you like to know first? I have knowledge of troops being used, some naval info, albeit limited, and some knowledge of troop stations, but most of it is expected. They're pulling all the tricks out for this war though."

 

Gracchus was more careful with his steak, eating it slowly bit by bit, and actually utilizing his utensils. He was appalled at the savagery in which both Tacitus and Maori attacked their steaks, but it wasn't surprising given their previous circumstances.

 

"Tell me everything. I want to know all that you know about their troops, moral, stations, movements, armament, navy, everything you can possibly think of. Also, I want you to write it all down as well, so I have a copy in case of start to forge anything," Gracchus pulled out a parchment and quill and ink, sliding it across the table to Maori. This elf and his info may be my ticket to the High Generalship, if my previous deeds and Baldur's letter doesn't convince Skjari and Dales.

 

Maori looked down at the parchment, then to his greasy hands, then back to Gracchus, then said, "Uh, I...can't write, actually. Never needed to. You'll have to write it as I speak."

 

"Oh, of course. Probably better this way, I have trouble reading others hand writing and your hands appear to be quite greasy, which would only smear the ink," Gracchus pulled the paper and inkwell and quill back, dabbing the quill on his tongue before dipping it in the ink, and scrawling Maori Report at the top.

 

"Alright, let's get this going. So, everything you know, and please don't go too quickly."

 

"Alright, first troops. As you know, the Thalmor soldiers serve as their elite specialized forces, and they're all lead by their Justiciars. The Dominion forces makes up the brunt of the force, which is mainly Altmer, and it has a minority of Bosmer now, bigger than what was available last time in the war. Unlike last time, they've now incorporated some Cathey-Raht and Pahmar-Raht as shock troopers in the dominion forces, although most of those are still reserved for Khajiit forces in Elsweyr. I'm sure you're aware of the Altmer using goblin slaves before? They've brought those back now as well, unlike in the first war. They'll likely be using those for fodder, and to harass you at night. Their goblins also have these weird lizard mounts, but I forgot their names.

 

Morale's pretty damn high among the Thalmor themselves, but the Dominion soldiers are as you would expect. Some of them, maybe most of them either support or accept that the Thalmor are their masters, and have mostly accepted what they say, but not all of them. They'll fight for them all the same however, so don't expect any rebellions. Even if they don't believe what the Thalmor do, a lot of them are glad for what they've done for the elven position of power in Tamriel over man. But almost everyone's still dreading the next war, since most of them are expecting this one to be on Valenwood and Elsweyr ground mostly.

 

As for positions, as you can expect, they're highly fortified on the Valenwood border, but like you, they've also lined it with many magical traps in large fields. You'll need your battlemages to clear them as you advance. They also uncovered these massive glowing stones from secret underwater Ayleid cities, two of them at least, and I think they're using them to work as giant automated magic attacking devices. I have no idea how to disarm those, but if they're as powerful as I've heard in legend, you're going to want to find a way before your men advance. And the word from the navy is they have some kind of holy weapon that will ensure they win the naval battle if you invade. Some kind of magic bird? But I wasn't able to get more on that, sorry.

 

Armament's what you'd expect. Elven light armor for Thalmor soldiers, and light leather armor for Dominion forces, but they spent a lot of coin enchanting the arrows and weapons of those who are guarding that fortified line to Valenwood. And the khajiit are getting in on this from Elsweyr as well, so expect to have to deal with them as well. Any questions?"

 

"They've got a F****** SUNBIRD?!" Tacitus yelled out, nearly choking on his food as he did. Several patrons looked at the table with contempt, as this was not an establishment where people like Tacitus frequented. "Erhm, sorry, but I'd heard legend of such things, and attributed to sailor talk, but if they're real than that'll be a problem. A huge problem."

 

Gracchus watched the outburst, somewhat embarrassed by his companion, but didn't show it, and didn't say anything about it. He had had to write quickly, but he got all of what Maori said.

 

"Yes, I have some questions. Firstly, how defended are their cities? Same with the Khajit cities. Secondly, what about the Elsweyr-Valenwood border? What are its defenses like? Lastly, who is the High General, so to speak?"

 

"I can answer that one. It'd be General Corio, the fella that did this," Tacitus held up his stump, showing the scar from the Nordic axe where his wrist should be.

 

"Right, that's him. He and Bal- uh...High General Red-Snow...wow, that'll take some time getting used to. Anyway, they had history. This Corio, I don't know a great deal about him besides that he's the one responsible for the operation that got Valenwood for the Dominion in the first place. He was a failure when we met him in Skyrim, so I don't know how or why he's the Royal General now. As for Elsweyr defenses, they're obviously fortified pretty good at the border, since that's where their cities lie, but I haven't been able to get past the Valenwood forces stationed near the border to learn more about the khajiit. The cities of Valenwood are as you would expect as well. The closer they are to the border, the more fortified they are. Ships make up the difference near the south. They consider it a flawless defense. The capital Falenesti's almost as fortified as the Valenwood Cyrodiil border. Expect magic traps on the beach as well. And of course the other giant crystal shooting thing."

 

"Sounds like they've planned accordingly. Which they were expected to do, no one ever touted the Thalmor as unintelligent no matter how much we hate them. What about weaknesses, are there any holes we can exploit in their defense, that you've seen?" Gracchus asked, his voice hopeful but not expecting much.

 

"Sorry, I'm not a military man that could really spot anything out like that. At most, I could say that they're very confident in their defenses, so if they failed, maybe they'd be taken off guard. From what I can tell they don't expect it to hold you off, but kill a lot of men. And I mean a lot. And so far, it seems like that will be the case. You want to win, expect heavy losses again. Maybe worse than the last time."

 

"That's what I hoped you wouldn't say. But, it was expected, so we'll just have to give it all we've got, and it may cost all that we've got too. Thank you, Maori, for all of the information. It'll be of great benefit, no doubt about it," Gracchus said kindly, although he didn't smile, the thought of all the lives they'd have to sacrifice depressing him.

 

"Yea, at least you won't be going in blind. So there's that. Now you'll know what to expect, and you can at least counter the magic trap fields. I have to go to Skyrim and tell them the same thing now too. But I'll stick around with Tacitus for a bit to the Imperial City before I head off."

 

"Well, if you two are done trading information, I'm going to go take a bath," Tacitus said, rising and wiping his greasy hands on his pants. "I advise you do the same Maori, we smell like a**."

 

"I'll go get us our rooms, and you two can go to the bath house next door," Gracchus said, walking over to the counter area.

 

The elf saw a pretty Bosmer girl not far from their table, chit chatting with a Dunmer and some Imperial women, who held their noses and were laughing at him. Maori looked confused, then took a whiff of himself under his arms. Is it really that bad? No one ever complained before. "Yea, I can't wait. I hate when I smell bad. I'm usually as rosy as a flower, but I was out FIGHTING THALMOR," he said at the laughing Bosmer girl to shut her and her friends up. Standing from the table, he said, "Let's get out of here, then."

 

"Shut up Maori," Tacitus said, slapping his companion on the shoulder and pushing him out the door.

 

Maori wasn't really looking forward to the bath. He felt best when he had a layer of earth on his skin. It felt more rugged, rough. Less vulnerable. But he supposed if he went any longer like this, he'd start growing trees. The bathhouse was attached to the inn's building, and looked like a second door to the side of it. Upon entering, he saw a large rectangle area with a pool built in to the stone, and a roof area surrounding it held up by stone columns. The area above the pool didn't have a roof, allowing one to see the skies.

 

A natural spring fed the pool, which was heated via enchanted stones. Tacitus dropped his clothes, wading right in. The warm water soothed Tacitus' aching joints, and he sank down into the water, dunking his head under to wet his mangy hair.

 

"Feels good, eh Maori? Like a new man, haha," Tacitus scrubbed himself with a bar of soap, the layers of dirt and mud giving way under the soap's assault. His hair was trickier, as it was caked with leaves and twigs and such. Pulling the sticks pulled his hair with it, so it was a painful process. "Gods damned, place Valenwood, it's still trying to kill me even when I'm miles away."

 

Maori dropped his bow and arrows, and all the daggers on his person, and his mask that he had on his belt while he wasn't wearing it, since he didn't need one in Cyrodiil. He let out his red-orange mohawk and undid the ponytail before he finally jumped in. He didn't know just how dirty and sore he was from traveling and living on the move constantly until all of the dirt melted off around him and the soreness melted off as well. Tacitus' answer was given by way of a long sigh as the elf slowly sunk under the water until bubbles from his mouth rose, then died away as he sank deeper. When he finally popped up, he said, "Not bad, I admit it. Not bad. So when we get to the Imperial City, what do you think they'll say? Think they'll reinstate you? I mean, you're not dead, so you're still the High Admiral."

 

"Who knows. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't. Probably think I'm a sleeper agent or something, or just a regular old spy. I'd be wary to reinstate me, but honestly I don't think there are a lot of other options besides me. But, I am still the High Admiral, so even if I'm not reinstated I'll probably be offered another job," Tacitus was still running his fingers through his long hair, which had regrown after the Thalmor cut it off. It was shaggy, but not the past shoulder length from before his capture. He wished it was, as he'd always liked his hair long.

 

"If not, I can put in a good word for you elsewhere up North. Not every day you get an experienced ex High Admiral for your navy. But if the good word of that Gracchus man doesn't get you your job back, on top of the intel I brought, then **** this place. I'm going to help you out with that in any way I can. I know what it's like wanting the means for revenge, but having that means taken away from you."

 

"Thanks for the offer, and who knows, I may have to take it up. I wouldn't count on it though, as I doubt they would take my job away from me for surging. But then again, politicians aren't my strong suit, and I wouldn't want them to be. A bunch of spineless cowards politicians, only good for screwing things up so we can fix them again."

 

Just then, the door opened and in walked Gracchus, who'd changed out of his fancy general's armor and into a pair of brown trousers and a blue shirt, which he began taking off upon entering. Tacitus was surprised at the physicality of the man, who was more muscular than one would expect from an again general. Gracchus waded in, sinking down under the water before surfacing and taking a seat on a submerged bench.

 

"This feels wonderful. Would you believe in Hammerfell they actually cool of the bathhouses because it's so hot? I prefer my water nice and warm, thank you," Gracchus said chuckling a little.

 

Maori looked at the two Imperials relaxing and looked at himself, in a bathhouse with two humans. It was certainly something unexpected, but not just because it was in a bathhouse, and he of all people was there, with his mohawk and savage looking tattoos of nightmarish monsters on his face. But because of the strong contrast just over the border of the dominion. The Thalmor, and perhaps the gods themselves see it fit to pit man versus mer in an endless struggle. Yet here he was, helping humans and befriending them. That in it of itself was already a victory easily gained, even if the war wasn't. The thought made him smile in defiance as he closed his eyes and laid back in the pool, knowing the Thalmor would hate the sight if they could see.

 
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Rebec, Baldur (Celan, Colonelkillabee)

Moving into the Alik'r Desert

Morning

 

Baldur was very reluctant to lose his armor, but eventually the Ra Gada, and Rebec, convinced him that it was better for comfort if he dressed in their way. He picked his Ancient Nordic refurbished armor especially for the trip, but when the Ra Gada described the feeling of sandstorms scratching at the skin, and the number it could put on someone with no facial protection, or in Baldur's case, no nether regions protection, he was much more willing to accept their fashion tips.

 

The governor already had their equipment lined out for them, including Rebec, and the Necro Nords. Baldur was given a noble's desert warrior outfit fortified with leather and steel, and a leather strap over his chest and back with a medallion depicting the Stormcloak bear on it in steel. Obviously Jeleen had expected all of this some time ago. Baldur was given a dark tan general's cape to go with it as well, with the Stormcloak bear symbol on it in white, which was covered by his shield with their family crest as usual. The Necro Nords were similarly outfitted, minus a cape.

 

They took with them four Bakyakas, shaggy looking creatures with long curved necks that had thick fur almost like a mane on their front part of their bodies, mainly the neck and front legs on the upper sections. Baldur at first wondered how something with such thick fur lived in the desert, but when they told him the two huge humps in it's back stored water...he got the picture. The creatures looked comical, like someone mated a cow from Skyrim with some a horse. It's front furred side was also blessed with strong thick legs for climbing up sandy dunes, and the fur only served to keep the creature even better protected from the sand of the Alik'r.

 

It's forehead also had a thick set of fur on it, that connected to the fur on the back of it's head as well. The creatures carried the water, food and other things that the men didn't carry. Baldur and Rebec's things were on the horses that they were given to travel on. As they were the High Admiral and General, it was good for appearances to see them traveling on horseback like nobles.

 

Suri was also traveling on horseback as well. They traveled light, taking what they needed only, so as not to overburden the beasts. The majority of their stores were water, though the Alik'r guides who met them in Sentinel said they should make comfortable time to Zelik'ma, the oasis which frequently served as a gathering place for tribal leaders or inter-tribal weddings.

 

While Baldur and the Necro Nords prepared for their journey, she and Suri had spent several days drilling on horseback, Rebec using her rope and crossbow and Suri a Ra Gada shortbow. After trying on the armor that had been laid out for them, Rebec decided that the steel was hindrance she didn't need. Jeleen came through with suits of finely made lamellar, the deep red scales woven together with turquoise rope and decorated with beads. The women wore this with loose-fitting cloth pants and wrapped themselves in cloak and cowl that would serve to protect both from sand and the cold of desert nights.

 

Riding alongside Baldur, Rebec scanned the horizon. It was just after dawn and they had been riding for several hours, trying to get some distance before the sun rose high. The sands were streaked in purple and rose and blue, almost like an ocean, but there was already a hint of the heat to come, more of a smell than sensation. If they had been able to smell anything but beast.

 

"So who runs out on first, leaving us to die- the bakyakas or their masters?" she joked, keeping her voice low. The guides kept to themselves, talking in a dialect that not even Suri understood, and Rebec had immediately distrusted them. Considering the past history the two had, such as with Samuel, Baldur learned to trust Rebec's instincts when she didn't trust someone. Granted, that seemed to be most strangers, but that was likely for the best; especially in foreign lands.

 

"Those stubborn beasts? I bet if either of them do, it's the guides over those...things. I tried to pull one earlier to pack it, and the damn thing spat in my face..."

 

"Maybe that was their way of saying hello." Rebec took out her canteen and sipped at it. Even in the relative cool of the morning, the dryness of the desert sucked the moisture out of eyes and mouths. It would be worse the further they got from the ocean's humidity. "Keep your eyes open. There are beasts with worse greetings than that." They had made the mistake of looking through a desert bestiary in Jeleen's library. The prince had said that such horrors were only in the deep desert and kept away from the well-traveled routes, but that was small comfort.

 

Baldur's eyes were trained on the sky, as he saw his worst nightmare come to life when he went through the book. And he saw some pretty horrifying things in his life. Something that he never thought could exist, but there it was, staring him in the face, with it's wrinkly exposed breasts showing. It was worse than a hagraven. It was a hagraven with wings. A woman/vulture. "I've got my eyes open, alright. I thought harpies were supposed to be sexy. Why would Kyne create such freaks? Ugh, what if those are Kyne's daughters?"

 

"I highly doubt that Kyne had anything to do with that. More like some daedric prince's party trick."  Her own nightmare had been a ghostly white creature with bulging black eyes, like a cicada except with razors for claws. The book speculated it was a kind of dreugh, twisted and re-shaped by the desert. And then there were the sand wraiths.

 

As the sun drew higher above them in the sky, it was easy to believe those were all around them. As close as they were to the coast, the wind picked up colored sand and swirled it into writhing, lifelike forms. Any chatter in the group died down as the Nords began to suffer in what was for most of them their first exposure to real heat in all their lives. At midday the guides called a halt in the shade of some red bluffs, and Rebec had to go around cautioning them to drink slowly and eat little. Even Suri was quiet.

 

They couldn't afford to nap all day, so struck out again in the late afternoon and didn't stop until they reached a natural spring in some cliffs, where they set up their night camp with just a little light left in the evening sky. The guides unloaded and watered the animals first, then set about making a campfire. The little cluster of cliffs was a regular stop for travelers, with fire rings already in place, and the spring controlled by a spigot in a rock.  The metal handle was shaped like a man's face, or like a grotesque mask. Water collected in a tile basin cut into the rock.

 

Baldur and the rest of the men were already making a rush for the water in the spring. The men were pushing and shoving at each other, and started to bicker over who got to drink their fill first. Just when it looked like there would be a fight, Falgrum came over to the two men blocking the spring and ran their heads together. The commander then had the soldiers line up, and the two subdued men drank last. "Guess none of them were with the Legion in Hammerfell." Baldur said while observing them acting like children. He'd have scolded them before, but the day in the desert was too damn hot, and although it was night now, the heat from before sapped any desire to order the men around. At least for now until he rested. Vigge's words were echoing through his head in full clearly audible verbatim. "Hot as the deadlands". Check. "Sand in your boots". Check.

 

And yet, even being just barely in the desert, the place already had an effect on Baldur. The sands were so beautiful to observe, when you could take the time to do so, and the blazing sun wasn't blinding you. In the distance, where the wind really picked up, you could even see large mounds of dunes shift in shape before your eyes. The "magic" of the desert that they all talked about was apparent. Every so often, you could hear the loud groan of the sand rubbing in the wind in the distance as well. And at night, like it was now, this was especially eerie. He made a silent hope to himself that the harpies didn't travel at night, then looked around for Rebec before setting up a tent.

 

Rebec had offered to help cook the dinner, and so had Menel- who was very motivated- but the guides shooed them away and Suri whispered that it was better not to insist. Desert folk took hospitality very seriously, even if it was paid hospitality. Rebec sent the men who would take first watch off to get some shut-eye, then sat down with Suri on a rock shelf overlooking the fire pit. She spied Baldur and waved him over.

 

Baldur ruffled Suri's hair as he came by, then sat with Rebec, plopping down wearily before placing a hand on her shoulder. "So much for a vacation, huh? Just can't catch a break. At least it's a nice view, though."

 

"And we had horses! A whole day on horseback is no picnic either, though."

 

"You'll get used to it," Suri consoled. "It gets better in a day or two, after your skin is toughened."

 

"Ra Gada skin, maybe. Nord skin takes longer. Any of the Necros had any of that exposed, it's red as hot coals now, and probably feels like that's what it's got on it."

 

"The desert is so beautiful, though." Suri's face was beaming as she looked out at the velvet darkness creeping up from the sands. "It tests, but it also purifies."

 

Rebec gave her niece a skeptical glance. "I like my impurities."

 

"Speak for yourself, softie. Necro Nord skin's already dead. And speaking of impurities, I made sure to bring some more of this from the ship," said Baldur who procured another bottle of Baldurbrau, which he put in front of Rebec only to pull away and drink some himself. Grinning, he said, "It may be hotter than Mehrune's asshole out here, but I brought a little Skyrim with me."

 

"Ohhh gods, hand that over." Rebec made a grab for it, keeping her voice down so as not to attract attention. If the men overheard, they'd have mooning Stormcloaks hanging around like vultures. Baldur already sneaked a bottle into him before he joined the two, but Rebec didn't need to know that. He waited till she got a good swig, then grabbed back at it for another drink.

 

"Suri, how often do you find yourself in the desert out here, and why?"

 

"I came twice with Mother to negotiate trade deals, but we didn't go far in. I've never been to this oasis everyone's talking about. For years I've longed to study with the sword masters in the deep desert, but my parents wouldn't allow it. Fighting in Skyrim convinced them I'm not a little girl any longer." Baldur suddenly started doubting the wisdom of bringing Suri with them. Their work was dangerous, this even more so, being so far from Skyrim. At least in the war, he had an army. The Necro Nords were just about as elite a force as you could find in Tamriel, other than a few rare knightly orders, and the Justiciars themselves, but he only had twenty of them. If something happened with Suri, it would be his fault.

 

"You know, Suri. You shouldn't be in a hurry to risk your life. There's a reason I didn't kill my first man until I was twenty five. As much as I hated my pa, I made sure I stayed with him until I finished my Legion training from him."

 

"Are you going to lecture me, too? I've been studying swordplay since I was five. But I didn't come along just for that. What you're doing is important, and I can help you. Do you know how many people died here because the Thalmor under-estimated us? That was our parents, and now it's our turn."

 

"Never try to cut a tree down in the wintertime, Suri. That's all I'm saying. A patient man doesn't need to swing his blade, when he has impatient enemies who will gladly fall on it," said Baldur.

 

"I'm not cutting trees for fun. Or do you think that's the only reason I'm here?"

 

"No, of course not. I wouldn't be out here myself if I didn't need to be, and your aunt and I like to fight. Or at least, I did." Baldur thought back to his initial excitement with the pirates. Him almost having his throat slit wasn't part of that plan. And Rebec would have been alone. "It's your homeland, and you want to be a part of helping it, I get it. It's just that if anything happened to you, it would be my fault. And you're a part of my family now, so naturally I worry. That's all."

 

Suri's defensiveness eased. "It wouldn't be your fault. That's saying I'm not responsible for myself, and I am. I would rather risk my life for something important than stay home and let others do the work. Hammerfell has a chance of being truly free now, but only if the Thalmor threat is put down for good." Rebec smiled over at her husband.

 

"Can't argue with that, can you? Besides, Suri dreams about stuff a lot crazier than this. She wants me to take her to find Yokuda."

 

"Cyrus went there, they say," Suri replied, sheepish. Baldur didn't smile, but she had a point. However, he wasn't sure he could use that with her parents if something did happen. They were reasonable though, and likely understood the risks. Vigge on the other hand was practically looking for an excuse to hate him, at least from his perspective.

 

"The Thalmor aren't likely going anywhere for a long time. Besides back to Alinor, maybe. Anyway, wasn't Yokuda sunken a long time ago by the Sword-Singers? How would we go there?"

 

"There are supposed to be islands of it remaining still above the water. I've been studying water breathing potions, and with those you could even study the sunken parts." Suri's voice had turned animated, the subject clearly firing her imagination.

 

"What did you lot do, anyway, to sink your whole continent?" As she talked, Rebec leaned over and grabbed the mead bottle back from Baldur's hands.

 

Suri was silent a moment. "It wasn't a matter of what the Yokudans did. Nirn requires a balance. From time to time, adjustments need to be made."

 

Rebec laughed, choking on a swig of mead. "That's some adjustment."

 

Her niece appeared uncomfortable with the topic. "It's what the Ansei says. You shouldn't make light, Aunt Rebec."

 

"I think the Ansei is the one doing that."

 

"From what I understand, they were set upon by their Emperor, and when the Ansei realized they weren't welcome, they decided to sink Yokuda with a magic sword technique. Imagine what would have happened if Wulfharth decided to take up that mentality as well... Or Jurgen..." said Baldur.

 

"That sounds to me like bragging," Rebec answered. "No swordsmen, I don't care how powerful, could sink a continent."

 

"Our ancestors did it to Nirn. That's where your beloved oceans came from, love. Look at how powerful the tongues were. Wulfharth had a shout that restored our years almost fully when taken by Alduin himself. Magic is an extraordinary force."

 

"Sunk the whole thing?" Rebec sounded skeptical. "If a man farts and the world ends afterward, he can start to believe he's got magical gas. If he survives, that is."

 

"Are you calling Sword Singing a fart?" Suri made as to be offended.

 

Baldur said, "Your aunt is skeptical by nature, which serves her well...at times. Some think it was sunk by natural causes of some kind. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle. Perhaps some sort of lava channel was hit with the magic, causing it to sink. It was an island continent, after all. Or maybe they had the help of the HoonDing."

 

"So what happened with the Left Handed Elves?"

 

"What happened with the Snow Elves?" Suri asked pointedly.

 

"Alright. You got me there," Rebec admitted. "Funny how the Ra Gada and Nords are so alike in some ways and so different in others."

 

Baldur said, "Personally, I'm not ashamed of what our ancestors did when it comes to the Snow Elves. I'd say I'm sorry that the two sides had to come to blows like that, but Tamriel's history was built on our two sides trying to eradicate the other. If we didn't do it to them, they'd have done it to us. And now that hatred has left them twisted and deformed. Dwelling in caves like freaks. I won't say they deserved it, but that's war. Things get out of hand. I'm sure the Yokudans had their reasons."

 

"Living in caves," Rebec scoffed. "That's more tall tales from mead-drunk adventurers or hunters scared of their own shadow. You ever seen one?"

 

"You bet I have, and I have their ears to prove it," said Baldur. "During my time as a merc. It was my last official job as a Black Mongrel. They're not around anymore. I wrote about the first time I found them. It was actually right in Hafingaar. It's not done like the other book is, but it's close. You don't want to find them. They've trained chaurus."

 

"You aren't pulling my leg? This isn't some kind of bard thing?"

 

"I wouldn't joke about that, Rebec. We lost a lot of good people on that mission. I still get nightmares on it. The ears are in one of those chests in your home in Solitude along with a few other interesting things I collected in my adventuring days." Rebec pursed her lips. She would've preferred the thought of Baldur battling twisted elves with trained monsters in dodgy caves as a bard story rather than reality, especially when they were far from home facing gods knew what else.

 

Before she could answer, Suri asked, "How long were you a mercenary, Uncle? What made you decide to join the Stormcloaks instead?" Baldur had to think on that for a while. He hadn't thought about those days in a long time, and preferred they stay out of his head. He only put that last mission to paper because he was thinking of his children...and if the coming war claimed his life.

 

"I was a merc for...about six years, I'd say. At least in the "professional" sense. After that mission with the elves, I got tired of losing friends, so I left the band after that in year 192." Baldur turned to Rebec, then said, "That's part of why I flipped when Reval died the way he did, and why I'm kind of glad Boldir retired. After that, I just wandered, singing and drinking. Mostly drinking. If I was in a real bad spot money wise, I'd do the occasional job killing bandits or guarding milk drinking nobles while they traveled Skyrim. I joined the Stormcloaks because I saw one last chance not to end up as either a lone drunk, or another dead Nord in some cave chasing glory without a cause, because he has nothing better to do with his life. Even if I died a soldier, at least I died with a family, and a cause worth fighting for beyond gold."

 

Rebec took his hand, and smiled sadly. Now she didn't know if it was worse to hear about Baldur's fighting, or about him looking for a family. "You had some good shield brothers during that time, too, didn't you? What about that axe-wielding Bosmer?" Baldur held her hand in return and smiled while he reminisced on some of his friends.

 

"Oh yes, definitely. Being a bard did me some favors. I won't tell you what happened with Maori yet, so as not to spoil the book, but he was a character. You'd like him, if you don't mind his palate... and my friend Toralf, an ex Thieves Guild member who loved to kill, steal, sing, albeit badly, and of course, cheap women and cheap booze, which for him went hand in hand. I miss them both. But I wouldn't change my past even if I could. It just makes what I have that much sweeter. Like a starving man who was just given a steak."

 

"Maybe I should become a mercenary," Suri said. At Rebec's shocked look, she laughed and stood to her feet. "I'm just kidding, Auntie. I'm going to go talk to the guides and see if I can get anything out of them about who's coming to this meeting, and how long it'll take us to get to the oasis."

 

Baldur shrugged, then said, "I don't have anything against the profession. It's just a hollow existence. Dead end lifestyle. But if you want some experience, but more excitement and gold than the soldier life gives, then you should go for it. The Alik'r mercenary group's an option. Make sure you ask about them, by the way. And the food. I'm starting to get too tired to eat."

 

"The ones who were in Skyrim? Alright, I'll ask." Suri picked her way carefully down the rocks towards the campfire.

 

Rebec watched her go, then elbowed her husband. "Gods, Baldur. If we come back and Suri's joined some desert merc group, I'll never hear the end of it."  She grinned. "So when do I get to read the rest of your book? Did you bring it?"

 

"Mm, I did, but now's not really the time for reading it, don't you think? Maybe later when we're done with at least some of this. What about you? Been a while since you told me one of your sailor tales."

 

"Don't make me think about the sea when we're in a sea full of sand. Before we go home, we'll hit Stros M'Kai. That's as sailorish a place as anywhere in Tamriel and you can listen to all the yarns you want in their taverns. They have a battlemage school and I'm told that's where their forward navy base is now, so it's an important stop for us. Maybe we'll run into my old pal, Bel Aksim. He's a ship captain, helped me get establish down here when I was first starting out."

 

"A ship captain? He's not one of your..." Baldur remembered briefly her talk of acquaintances, and hoped that any ship Captains she was with before was someone they didn't come across.

 

She bit her lip. Damn. "Uh... we probably won't run into him. I haven't seen him since before the war. Who in Oblivion knows where he is now. Running smuggler lines to Elsweyr, maybe." Rebec stood, shaking her cloak to rid it of sand. "Let's go see if the stew is ready. I hope they didn't put too much chile in it. Ra Gada always making stuff so blasted hot."

 

Baldur followed her, albeit silently. Him getting his confirmation of the two didn't leave him in a chatty mood, and he hoped for this captain's sake he didn't meet him. Nothing good could come of it for anyone. At least she hadn't seen this captain in a long time though, he thought. Suri came up to them and relayed the information that the guides expected to reach Zelik'ma sometime on the third day, if the Nords were able to keep up as they had the first day. That seemed a point of doubt. "And they said we were being 'watched,'" she added.

 

"What does that mean?" Rebec asked.

 

"I gather that it means the tribes all know you're here, and they expect some travelers to join us soon. I'm sorry, I couldn't get any more details out of them than that."

 

Rebec and Baldur exchanged glances, but when bowls of stew began to be passed around, appetite from the long ride took over. As the admiral predicted, it was studded with the red pepper paste of Baldur's fame, as well as orange, with a starchy potato-like vegetable and lamb sausage.

 

After they had eaten and the tents were set up, Rebec asked her husband, "Have you ever had a sand bath?"

 

Baldur raised an eyebrow, then said, "How much of that mead did you have? You found where I stashed it, didn't you?"

 

"No, but I will now. Come on, I'm not sharing a tent with the stink we're both giving off. Get your sleeping clothes and we'll go off close by where no one's watching. Hopefully." Rebec recalled the guides' words, that they were being watched, and wondered how that was possible when for miles around all you could see was desert.

 

She found a spot out in the darkness near the camp where the sand was glittering with minerals and not too fine, then began stripping clothes. "If you try to wash with water, a minute later sand will be stuck to your wet skin and you'll be dirtier than when you started. This is how the desert folk clean themselves when they're out and about."

 

When Baldur was naked, Rebec scooped up a pan full of the sand and said, "Ready? Cover your eyes."

 

The whole time Baldur was stripping, he was waiting for someone to pop out and say 'gotcha!' He never heard of sand bathing before, at least not from anyone but animals, and he wondered how uncomfortable it would be to actually be dumped with it. But Rebec's expression was stern... which, given how silly he felt doing this, seeing how serious she was made him laugh. "Alright. Ready I guess."

 

"Trust me, you'll feel better."  Unceremoniously Rebec dumped the pan full of hot mineral sand over her husband's head, then grabbed some scrub grass and used it as a cleaning mitt, the grass and grains of hot sand blasting away at the surface of his skin and then being carried off by the wind. By the time she got to rubbing at his hair and beard, she was laughing. "You're an official sand rat now, my big Nord."

 

"Wonderful, this is every man's dream. When they're five, that is," he said, laughing in turn at the unexpected strange experience, which somehow actually worked. How anyone figured out how to bathe in sand the first time was beyond him. Probably observing the bakyaka and other animals of the desert. By the time she was done with his hair, he shook his body out like a dog to get the remaining dust off, then threw his hair back and forth to do the same. "Your turn now," he said with a grin, looking forward to cleaning his wife. Besides the obvious fun of it, he wasn't going to say it but her hair somehow managed to trap the smell of bakyaka in it even though they were riding on horses.

 

"Alright, go for it." Rebec put her hands over her eyes, but didn't completely trust Baldur not to succumb to bardish wiles, so took a peek just as he dumped sand over her head and she got an eyeful of it. Then she yelled and got a mouthful, too. Spitting and blind, she then found that the grass made her ticklish, and ended up swallowing a good bit of sand in the effort not to laugh.

 

Baldur had the grass in one hand and his other hand on his stomach from laughing, which he couldn't help. "You never could keep from peeking, could you? Ha, serves you right! Don't worry, I'll clear it out." Baldur took extra care with her hair, then applied the grass to her belly to tickle her again for good measure, then started wiping the rest of the dust from her hair with his hand, then lifted her head up with a finger under her chin to see the eye. Gently, he had her open the irritated eye, so he could carefully blow on it to get any dust from out of it. Letting go so she could blink, he said, "Better?"

 

"This is supposed to be more relaxing."  In fact the combination of cool night breezes and hot sand was both invigorating and good for their sore muscles. Rebec wrapped herself in her loose sleeping robe, and made a stop at the well to rinse out her mouth. While Baldur went off to set up their tent, Rebec helped Suri clean herself in the same way, then tried to tell Menel and the Necro Nords how to go about it. Most were skeptical of the notion and declined. They would learn.

 

The final touch was a pot of aromatic oils that Raesa had tucked the Red-Snows' pack. Inside their tent, Rebec put a little of it onto Baldur's back and arms and rubbed him down with a rough-weave cloth, just enough to replenish the skin's oils but not enough to make the sand stick. She let him do the same for her, then rubbed a little on his lips to heal the cracks from the day's dry heat. By the time Rebec finished, her thoughts had fully turned to other comforts, and she tested out the oil's work with a kiss, and then a few more. Climbing on to Baldur's lap, she wrapped both arms and legs around him. Her thigh muscles complained from the long ride, but she was too busy to notice.

 

In truth, Baldur hadn't been planning on any nighttime festivities, due to exhaustion, but by now, especially after the sand shower, most of that had passed. While she held onto him, he ran his fingers through her hair, then breathed in the scent of the grass and oils on her neck. He groaned softly into her skin from the pleasantness of it, and so that she'd feel tingles go down her spine as he ran a finger down her freshly oiled back. "I was wondering if we'd ever find time for this in the desert. You smell wonderful." By now his wandering hand found it's way to her haunches where they encouraged her to grind against him. He thought back to when he first saw her, and how he never would have imagined that first night to lead to all this.

 

She complied, smiling as she rested her cheek against his and squirmed on him, then reached down with her hand to help them along, and squirmed some more to seat him more deeply. They were both too tired for long festivities, but in any case Rebec was so eager that that wasn't necessary. Turning her face into his shoulder to stifle her moans, she let the heat rise up through her middle until it flooded through her limbs. Then, trembling and docile with relief, she kept moving to urge Baldur to the same.

 

He could feel from her quivering that she wouldn't take long, which was good, since he too was eager from the built up tension of rubbing each other with the oils. Feeling her constrict around him while inside her when she finished brought him closer to the edge, which made him lay back while he continued to help her move against him while he moved along with her. He could feel her tensing up again a few minutes later, and he put a hand behind her head to kiss deeply as she constricted again to accept his release, which was shared with her second. He groaned again as he did while they kissed, then pulled at her bottom lip playfully after he sighed from relief. "Ah, hehe. Suddenly, I feel like I haven't walked in weeks."

 

"Amazing how that works," Rebec agreed, smiling, the tension all gone out of her. Outside the night air had grown quite cold as the desert gave up its heat as quickly as it had built it up. Drawing their light coverings over them, Rebec nestled into Baldur's side and tried to fall asleep. The nagging worries of the trip tugged at her thoughts, but tiredness overcame them.

 

Sometime later, Rebec awoke and extracted herself from Baldur's embrace, throwing on her sleep robe and going outside to relieve herself. Just as she had finished, she looked up to find the female Alik'r guide staring down at her with glittering eyes. Rebec suddenly realized she was without her axe, but the woman remained completely still, and a second later seemed to vanish entirely.

 

Grumbling something about them being worse than elves, Rebec was almost back to the tent when she felt more than heard others moving in the camp. This time she did retrieve her axe, quickly, though when she emerged again, a man she didn't know said, "You must be the Nord admiral.  I am Kematu and have been looking for you. We'll speak more in the morning."

 

"We'll speak now, if you know what's good for you," Baldur said from behind Rebec. He hadn't had time to slip anything on and was nude with nothing but an axe in hand. Falgrum came forward a moment later with his claymore pointing towards the back of one of the Alik'r men moving around their camp. The Alik'r merc didn't seem bothered, though. His sword wasn't even drawn.

 

"We don't take kindly to sneaky types moving in through our perimeter. State your business," Falgrum said, keeping his good right eye trained on the mercenary leader while the milky one seemed to stare through him.

 

Kematu looked around at the trio, and then at the Alik'r merc who had been caught. To Baldur, he said, "These aren't normal Stormcloaks, I take it. Good. You're not fools, then. You have nothing to fear from us, don't worry. Like I said, we'll talk in the morning." Without another word, he and his mercenary walked off with one of the guides who signaled for the two to follow them to their side of the camp.

 

Rebec exchanged looks with Baldur, her dubious expression visible in the moons' light. "These redguard are like Khajiit. I'm not sure I can sleep any more tonight. I'll get my gear and relieve one of the men on third watch."

 

"You're in charge with me, so I need you to rest. That's what these guys are for. But if you insist, then fine. Falgrum, you're on night duty too. Double patrol," he said.

 

"Got it. I barely sleep anyway. Oh, nice outfit, by the way sir." Baldur looked from the redheaded Nord to his nakedness, then grinned.

 

"Well, it wouldn't have been the first time I had to fight naked. Go on with you now." He left for the tent then and slipped on his night pants, then climbed back to bed, not shaken by the sneaky Ra Gada enough to lose sleep. Rebec looked from the campsite back to the tent, torn. Finally she decided that she would go back to bed, but remain alert to listen for any trouble. That lasted for all of five minutes until she was fast asleep again.

 

The night was a short one, their guides eager to get some distance behind them before the sun rose. Breakfast was cornmeal rolls with goat cheese and cups of hot tea. Baldur awoke before most of the others along with Rebec, and went off to Suri's tent to wake her, knowing she'd want to talk to the Ra Gada warrior as well. Tapping on her tent flap with an axe after walking past the group of Necro Nord bedrolls, Baldur said, "Suri! Rise and shine, we've got company as of last night. It's Alik'r."

 

After a moment, Suri poked her head out, sleepy-eyed and her normally pulled-back hair loose and wild with curls. "Is everything alright?"

 

"I don't know, really. We're not under attack, so that's a start." Suri mumbled something and disappeared into her tent again. Meanwhile Rebec came over.

 

"The Alik'r say they'll talk to us on the way. They want to get everyone moving. I think they're the mercs who were in Skyrim. Though they don't like being called mercs, word to the wise."

 

"I'm sure he'll get over the slip up if I do. Anyway, tell them I need to speak to their leader now. We don't answer to them and I want to make that clear. They need us just as much as we need them, and I'm not walking anywhere with them without knowing more. I'm not going in this blind," said Baldur.

 

Grinning, Rebec said, "Aye aye, General sir. I'll tell them. But they're right that we should move soon." A few minutes later, there were impatient redguard assembled in the firepit area. The pink of dawn was just starting to show above the cliffs.

 

Baldur came over with his brown horse behind him, grinning at the sour look they were giving him. Kematu said, "Well? What is it, Nord? I'd rather we not be late, and travel is easier if we move b-,"

 

"Yea yea, I get that. My men are all lined up and ready to leave. I just wanted you to answer a few questions now and not when you please, so start talking now while we wait for the others to line up. One, who are you exactly, two, why were you looking for us, and three, who's going to be at this oasis?"

 

"I am Kematu, leader of the Alik'r warriors. I was the one in Skyrim who was given such difficulty in my search for the Thalmor spy..."

 

"If my wife didn't already say it, you should know that wasn't us. You were dealing with Balgruuf. He wasn't on our side, so that means he had to tolerate the Thalmor. But, from what I understand, your men didn't actually come out and say she was Thalmor. Why was that?" asked Baldur. He looked behind him and saw that his men were lined up now, so he hopped on his horse and waited for Kematu to walk beside him while they walked over to where Suri and Rebec were waiting close by.

 

"We were aware of the Thalmor and the assistance they were receiving. If we mentioned them, we'd have surely been set upon as your men were in Whiterun hold."

 

"Balgruuf had some Thalmor spy holed up in his city?" Rebec asked as they walked along. "How did you know about it way out here in the desert, and what business of it was yours?"

 

"The Taneth sent us. They saw her take off to Skyrim, and we went after her, since we don't involve ourselves with the Crowns or Forebears, and we're known for our hate of the Thalmor. There was no one better. After that, we went around and questioned who we could on her location. Simple. Except the part where we couldn't get in the city."

 

Baldur said, "So why were you looking for us?" Kematu stayed quiet for a while, as if he was wondering that himself.

 

Finally, he said, "I was looking for you, because our enemies were looking for you. Why, I'm not sure. As I said, we're neutral, so if you came around here normally, we'd send you on your way and direct you to someone you actually need to bother yourselves with. We'll fight for whoever needs us to against the Thalmor. So that's the only reason why I'm here with you know, and as I said, I don't know why they want you, but that's why we're going to the Oasis. They've agreed to have a nonviolent meeting there, so we can all get some answers."

 

"So this could be a trap. For you and us."

 

"Could be. Probably is," he said simply. "But my men are ready for that. They're waiting for us now near the meeting spot. The other group, Alik'r Warrior mutineers; they don't know I'm with you. There's also another warrior band called the Warriors of the Satak. Snake worshiping warrior band. You'll recognize them by their distinct forked tongues and wavy blades. They're new upstarts. But we underestimate no one."

 

Rebec glanced at Baldur. "You think that snake worshiper we saw in Sentinel could've been watching us?" Baldur raised an eyebrow, as did Kematu.

 

"Wow, maybe. That's really creepy," Baldur said.

 

Kematu's brow wrinkled in frustration, then said, "We need to be careful, then in that case. I don't know why they'd be interested in you. They're probably just keeping tabs though, like I am. Still, there's too many eyes on you, and I'm in the dark as to why. And I don't like it. We need to double time it to the Oasis."

 

"I'm all for that," she nodded. "I wouldn't think this would be so complicated. Redguard hate Thalmor more than anyone. All we're asking is for people to work together to make sure the Thalmor are no longer a threat to any of us. But I know these are ancient gripes people have with the Nords and imperials."

 

By now, Baldur and the others moved to the front of the Necro Nords and behind the guides who were patiently waiting. While they moved to the front and finally continued their journey, Baldur said, "Which won't matter if we're all dead from Aldmeri blades. If the Alik'r are neutral, I'd have thought that would extend to all branches, but whatever reason they left, it must have been bad enough to split when Hammerfell is supposed to be united. But it seems that the Ra Gada are just as split as ever. Even if they're not killing each other while they are. Not much different from the Bretons," Baldur said.

 

Kematu turned his head sharply up at Baldur on his horse, then he said, "Do not compare the strength of the Ra Gada to those...those..."

 

"Milk-drinkers?" Baldur cut in while smiling.

 

"Uh, yes. Milk drinkers. The Ra Gada will stand together when the time comes. You just better do your part and show that we only have to worry about one enemy when the war comes. We may be all humans, but the Ra Gada were outsiders to all Tamriel dwellers when we first arrived, and I'm not that certain that has changed."

 

"You lot and the Bretons get along just fine when you're going after the orcs," Rebec mumbled. It was one reason she had decided not to bring Mazoga along, despite her first mate's protest. She and the crew of the Black Wisp would do some short-distance trading routes for Vilnur and Raesa in the meantime.

 

The sun began to beat down on them, though at the same time there was a hot wind that blew sand into their faces, making it difficult for man, mer and beast to breathe. The day before, they had followed a hard-beaten trail, but as they got deeper into the Alik'r, any sign of a visible trail vanished. Once the sun was straight above them, it was impossible for the Nords to tell which direction was which, yet the guides kept on.

 

They made a short stop for lunch, but with no water source and the scathing wind, it was difficult for anyone to either eat or rest. By afternoon, the sun was no longer as bright. Suri came alongside Rebec and Baldur and said, "The Alik'r are worried about something."

 

"If they say 'we're lost', I'm having desert rat for dinner," said Baldur. "What's the problem?" Before Suri could answer, they heard raised voices from among the Alik'r, an argument. Some of them had stopped and others were gesturing as though to insist that the group keep moving. Rebec moved her horse ahead to find out what was going on, but then a sight that chilled her blood made her hold up.

 

All along the horizon, a wall of what appeared to be dense, brown cloud rose up from the ground and towered into the sky. They all saw it. Sandstorm.

 

Baldur followed after she stopped, and suddenly it was pretty obvious what the Alik'r were arguing about. The Nords followed as well to gawk, which was shortly followed by grumbling and nervous cursing. Eventually Kematu came forward before them to tell the others the plan.

 

"We're moving forward. The faster we advance, the faster we'll get through the storm. When we approach it, we'll huddle up in a circle and cover ourselves until it passes, so we can more easily protect ourselves and so no one gets lost. I hope your men are ready."

 

One of the Nords stepped forward and said, "You must be confusing us with our brothers east of the border. We're not afraid of a little dust up." Baldur looked away from the man to the wall. That's not a little dust.....

 

"Bravado, how useful," Kematu said. "If the storm doesn't make you nervous, the creatures that hunt within it may. Some of the monsters of Hammerfell travel within the storms themselves. Things like giant scorpions, sand wraiths, harpies...."

 

Baldur's eyes shot open at the mention of that, and he looked at Rebec. That's just ******* great!

 

Rebec wanted to smile at Baldur's fear of flying hagravens, but she was having enough trouble keeping control of her nervous horse. The argument among the Alik'r seemed to have ended, so they all trudged towards the oncoming wall of sand.

 

The most eerie thing was the quiet. When they neared the storm, the group lashed the pack animals and horses at the center of the circle and then formed up, weapons drawn, to wait out the onslaught. Rebec stood next to Baldur and gave him a last meaningful look before drawing her cowl over her face to protect it from the sand.

 

Baldur did the same, bringing his sand colored head wrap over his head and pulling the neck wrap over his mouth, as did the Alik'r and Necro Nords. Some of Baldur's hair from the side still poked out from the narrow opening for his eyes that he left uncovered for now. The Alik'r picked a spot and raised their hands for the others to stop, and the group knelt as they watched the storm's slow approach, waiting for it to encompass them. The horses were getting increasingly wild, and Baldur started wondering if they'd have to let them go. The bakyaka however were fine. They were well adapted to dealing with these conditions, from their thick fur and long eyelashes, to their fully closeable nostril passages.

 

The wind was getting more audible as the storm approached, and a lump formed in Baldur's throat as the ominous wall of sand and only the gods knew what else came even closer, like an approaching army. Baldur started imagining the sounds of charging men running on their front flank like back in the civil war. For a minute he almost thought he actually heard it. Wait....

 

Baldur and the others suddenly turned their head, and in disbelief they gawked as a group of Alik'r warriors came over a dune and started charging them with raised blades! Falgrum was the first to react, as they hesitated briefly from the unexpected ambush.

 

"To arms!" the fire haired Nord cried. At once, the group all raised their weapons and voices in their Yokudan and Skyrim war-cries.

 

Just perfect, Rebec thought, letting go of Suri to draw her second axe. Kematu's enemies, or their own, had obviously decided to use the screen of the sandstorm to try to gain the upper hand. There was no time to damn them for the folly or admire the hubris.

 

Desert warriors slammed into the Nords on a banshee charge, and as Rebec's axes flew, she could only hope that they were meeting the flesh of enemies and not her companions. In the dense fog of sand, with everyone shrouded, it was difficult to tell which was which. She tried to keep close to Baldur and Suri, but even their shouts were swallowed up by the storm.

 

A sword bit into her arm from behind, and Rebec half-turned to slash back at the form wielding it. They grappled, the Alik'r using a dagger in the off-hand which always threatened like a stinger. Rebec's advantage this time was power, and she used her greater weight to make her blows count. The redguard feinted, falling back and back, until Rebec realized that he or she was trying to draw her away from the others so as to swarm her and finish the job. Rebec gave up the chase, backtracking towards the Nords' defensive circle. The lamellar armor protected her from the cuts, though her arm ached and began to swell, and her cloak was in ribbons.

 

Baldur was standing side by side with Falgrum, trying to remain close with Rebec and Suri, and trying to fend off anyone that got too close, but with the chaos of the storm, it was hard enough protecting themselves. The ambush was a mad dash. Barely any technique at all went into their strikes, their only goal being to kill who they could. To Baldur's dismay, he and Falgrum could make out the form of a Necro Nord being sliced and stabbed on the ground in the sand in front of them. He couldn't understand what the Ra Gada were saying, especially with the storm, but he could occasionally make out angry cries with Rebec and Baldur's name in them. It was clear they knew who they were and that they were looking for them. However, it seemed that they couldn't find him, due to the similarity of his outfit to his men's.

 

Falgrum charged forward and shoved his claymore down in through the Ra Gada's heart who was still stabbing the body to finish off the Nord. Baldur nearby jumped over his head after he knelt, and brought his axes down on two charger's skulls, filling them with electrical charge. Afterwards, three chargers came for Baldur in full sprint, then Baldur looked behind him and said, "Now!"

 

When he did, Baldur rolled backwards behind his commander, and Falgrum greeted the chargers with a wide swing, cutting through two of the Ra Gada's necks and grazing the last one's shoulder. The Redguard fell backwards and scurried off behind the other wave of attackers. Baldur could hear his horse in the back going crazy amongst all the chaos, and it was starting to become problematic for the group, so he ordered the men to part, then he cut it's burden and saddle off and smacked the animal's backside and forced it to charge into the oncoming attackers.

 

Amidst the tumult, Menel suddenly realized that he'd been huddled down among the pack animals with his hands over his head. It was an instinctual reaction to extreme stress, but, ashamed, he forced his legs to straighten and began to look around for targets. It was too late for a frenzy spell, but when he saw two Alik'r massing a Necro Nord, he fought his way through the sand and cast a calm spell on the Nord's opponents, began hitting them at close range with ice bolts from his fryse hag staff.

 

Nearby Rebec had found Suri and helped put down the opponent she was facing, then sheathed her ebony axe and used the injured arm to hang on to her niece while she tried to breathe. The fighting seemed to hit a lull, but then Rebec thought she heard a shriek which was different than the wind. Dark shapes descended on them from above, and razor sharp claws sunk into the admiral's back and shoulders. She felt herself being lifted off the ground, and this time it was Suri who was hanging on to her.

 

The redguard dug her boots into the sand, and between Suri and the creature, Rebec felt like she was being torn into two. Ignoring the pain shooting through her body, she hacked back wildly at whatever was holding on to her. The creature shrieked again, and after a moment dropped Rebec to the ground, apparently going off to look for other prey.

 

Baldur saw the beasts descend from the skies to his wife, and for a minute, he couldn't believe what he was seeing, and froze. That lasted for about a second before he was running with axes raised to get to it, but Rebec was already dropped before he got there. Suddenly, a mass of shrieking black flew at Baldur from his left and right side, and as he raised his weapons, two Necro Nords tackled the harpies out of the air before either of them could reach him. Baldur could hear screaming in the distance, and figured that the things were attacking the Ra Gada who ambushed them as well. While he was looking in the distance to try and see, more shrieks above him was heard, and before he knew it, he was set upon by a group of the things, but he wasn't sure how many.

 

He began slashing this way and that, and felled one of the creatures by slicing open it's chest at it's exposed disfigured unnatural breasts, but more kept coming. The Necro Nords were slicing into the group as well, but before they could do anything, Baldur was already being lifted from the ground. Two of the things had dug their talons into his left and right shoulder which forced him to yell out angrily in pain, and he was forced to drop his axes. Baldur saw Menel being picked up as well. The last the Necro Nords saw of Baldur was the sight of him still struggling wildly as the things pecked at his head, both having a beak full of his locks, before finally disappearing completely in the sand above them.

 

Rebec got a glimpse of Baldur high off the ground and tried to scream, but the choking sand stole the sound away. The fury of the sandstorm rose to a fever pitch, drowning out all sound and movement but its own churn. There was so much sand in the air that it felt like any creature trying to stand was being pulled down by the weight of it, as if the ground and sky were conspiring to swallow them all up. There was no more fighting, as every person or beast still alive was forced to fight the sand for their survival.

 

Then, silence.

 
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Stalks-Deep-Waters

Windhelm

Noon

 

The trip to Windhelm may have been more fruitful than he had hoped. After leaving Whiterun due to all of the jobs with good pay was handed to the Companions, he continued eastward in hope of more jobs. On the border to Eastmarch he was attacked by three bandits on the road, a small band in bad shape and one of them had been recently injured in the left arm. They were probably fleeing from something, whether it was from the Companions in Whiterun to Eastmarch or from the Stormcloaks in Eastmarch to Whiterun, he did not care. The man that acted as their leader was bald and a great red haired mustache that reached below the chin, but the most distinct feature was that half the nose was missing and that injury looked really old. He looted the corpses and cut off the head of the mustached leader and put in the sack he used for that purpose when bounty hunting, hoping the man might have a bounty in Eastmarch. It was a slim chance but he was running low on gold. 

When he arrived at the gates of Windhelm he was greeted by the usual warm hospitality guards used to give him, suspicious glances and one or two muttering the slur lizard. He didn't pay them much attention and walked through the city to the palace. When he walked into the palace he got more suspicious glances that bordered more to starring. The only man that didn't look like a guard in the large hall was a nord sitting and eating at the long table at the far end near the throne. This nord also had a big mustache which almost got Stalks to think he had just killed that man's brother or cousin. He walked up to the man while trying to ignore the guards. "Are you the steward?" He asked the nord. 

 

The nord looked up from his plate of lamb he was enjoying to the unusual guest before him with curious, and somewhat wary eyes. He took off hat lined with thick white fur, then said, "Aye, I'm Jorlief, steward to High King Ulfric Stormcloak. What can I do for you? If this is about a house, I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

 

"No I'm wondering if you got a bounty on a bald man with a large red haired mustache, kinda like yours, and have half the nose missing?"

 

Jorleif paused for a moment, reflecting on what he could remember, but not being able to recall exactly. Sighing as he reached behind his back, he pulled out a scroll roll of papers and sifted through a list of unclaimed bounties. "Lets see...There's... Jorund Draugr-Face? Hmm, yea he seems to match the description. I suppose the nose thing explains the name. That's a really old bounty, for twenty five gold. For...horse thieving, and....." Jorlief pulled away from the paper in disgust and looked to the Argonian and said, "Bestiality. Ulundil will be happy, I'm sure. You have proof of the deed?"

 

He reached for the sack hanging by the belt at his side, thankful for the oils that covered the inside and kept the stench and rot contained. He pulled out the head and held it up rather close to the human so he could get a good look. "Here he is." 

 

Jorleif quickly slid his food aside, then examined the head. The smell was palpable, but he was used to merc types shoving heads in his face. He was careful to examine the wound on the nose, making sure it wasn't fresh, and that the Argonian didn't just cut off some guy's nose with a mustache. It checked out. "Here, gold well earned. Windhelm thanks you, Argonian. You can take that with you. Was there anything else?"

 

"You sure you don't want the head? The skull could make a fine totem." He said a little jokingly as he put the head back in the sack before receiving the gold. "Well, you got any more bounties? Something actually worth hunting down."

 

"Always. The Stormcloaks are better patrolling the lands now, especially Eastmarch now that it's the capital, but bandits will always rear their ugly heads. Good practice for the boys, eh?" Jorleif said to a palace royal guard, which were now the Necro Nords. The man had his bear helmet on and was leaning on the back wall with a claymore in his hands, resting it's point on the floor.

 

He said, "Aye, when they stick around to fight, anyway. Even the green recruits are proving too much for them lately. There's that one band though, the ones attacking caravans. They're proving to be a big nuisance. They hit and run, never stick around for too long, and they know better than to challenge us. Makes it hard to get at them."

 

Jorleif looked puzzled at the moment, as he couldn't recall such a bounty. Looking through the stacks, though, he found what the Necro Nord was talking about pretty quickly. "Ah, I see. Here, think you can handle this bounty?" It read:

 

"By order of High King Ulfric Stormcloak

 

To all able bodied men and women of Windhelm. There have been bandits harassing caravans at a fever pitch, despite heightened troop numbers around. They attack quickly, and then run off, never sticking around for long. However, we do know that the bandit leader's name is Lilith R'is, a female Dunmer warrior that once resided in the Grey Quarter. She has long black hair, shaven on one side, and a scar over her nose. She was noted for being rather unstable. She fights with an ebony blade, magic, and wears what appears to be actual dragonscale armor. Very illusive, unpredictable. Her men look like typical common rabble, but they specifically target argonian caravans that go to and from Riften. Her hideout is unknown, but she was last reported being seen near Ironbind barrow and Silverdrift lair, past Nightgate Inn.

 

A reward will be offered to anyone who kills their leader and brings her head.

 

Jorleif, Windhelm Steward."

 

After reading the the note he put it down in one of the many pockets at the belt. "Dragonscales? If the few stories I've heard about dragons are true, then that armor must be quite the patchwork. And how much is the bounty on?" 

 

"It's on the back of the note. Two hundred gold coins. As for the armor...that's what the reports say...but I've never even seen dragonscale armor before, so I wouldn't know how accurate that claim is. Should fetch a pretty Septim if it's real, though, eh?"

 

"Well if they're not, at least the ebony will be nice. Anyway, know where the general store is in this city? Mr Draugr here had some things I want to sell off." He patted the bag with the head. 

 

"You'll want to go into the Gray-Quarter for that. Place called Sadri's Used Wares to your left outside the palace. If you see a man there shouting at any Dunmer, do yourself a favor and ignore him. I won't bad mouth him because he's Galmar Stonefist's brother, but he's not worth you wasting your time on him, believe me. He usually sticks to the Cornerclub, though."

 

"They rarely are." And with that he walked down the hall and out of the palace. He took the left gate out of the courtyard and it wasn't long till the streets turned dirty and and the houses was in quite bad shape compared to the rest of the city. Most of the people he passed by was dunmer and most of them gave him not only suspicious glances but some bordered to spiteful stares. It made the reception he got on the way to the palace feel like a heartwarming welcome in comparison. 

Not before long he saw another nord wearing scaled armor with the head of a goat strapped to the shoulder pad. This man was bald but had an enormous grey beard. "Hello." He said to the man as he was the only one nearby who appeared at least not hostile to the argonian. 

 

"You one of those 'Skyrim for the nords' type?" 

 

The question caught Stalks off guard and left him silent for a few second before he thought of a response. "Yes, outsiders like me don't belong here." He said with a sarcastic tone. 

 

"That's just what Ulfric wants you to think. If that's what you really believe, then you're a fool. Never had much patience for fools, myself." The nord said, apparently not noticing the sarcasm and then he walked past Stalks with a grumpy "Hmph".

 

Stalks stood there and watched the nord walk away for a few seconds, wondering what had just happened. Probably have bugs in his ears or something. He thought and dismissed it all as some crazy nonsense and walked on till he saw torn and dirty red banners, with gold triangles pointing down from the top of the banner and a gold dot inside each triangle, hanging from the facade on a building that lied in the corner of the street. As he walked past what he assumed was the Cornerclub he saw a nord commoner in brown and beige clothes standing with a bottle of mead in one hand and waving the other as threateningly as he could at some dunmer woman while yelling what he assumed were racist slurs, but the man sounded so drunk it was almost impossible to make out what he was actually saying. When the nord noticed Stalks he yelled "Slyzart!" and then some more gibberish at him before going back to harassing some dark elf woman. The general store Sadri's Used Wares wasn't too far from the Cornerclub. Stalks opened the door and hoped that whatever dark elf that owned this shop would be nicer than those out on the streets. 

 

As Stalks opened the door, Revyn the shop owner could hear the intoxicated nord's drunken harassment pour in. "Hmph. Damn Nords. Even with my people's contribution to the army, they still allow that loudmouth to harass anyone he wants! That Red-Snow is all talk. He wants to honor the mer that died in his command? Well start here! Um, sorry. Uh, what can I get for you? All goods here are legitimate, I promise you."

 

"I'm looking to sell mostly." Stalks walked up to the counter and took off the backpack, which was little more than a roll of leather tied up at both ends, untied the ends and rolled it up. On the leather lied two iron axes and a steel mace, a small necklace with a small iron medallion shaped like a horse head, an iron dagger, a fur hat and two pairs of a bit dirty but still functional fur boots. "What will you give me for all of this?" 

 

"Ah, more iron junk. You adventurers always shovel that stuff in. The iron goods and the fur boots will ring in fifteen gold." The Dunmer picked up the necklace now, then inspected it, holding it up towards a torch on the wall behind him, then placing it down back on the counter before inspecting the steel mace and it's edges. The steel mace I'll give you twenty five gold for, and the iron medallion's really only as good as the amount of metal used to make it, which isn't much. You may as well keep it. But...If you do me a favor, I'll throw in an extra ten gold coins."

 

"You keep the medallion. And what favor are we talking about?" 

 

The Dunmer smirked, then ducked under the counter for a while, shifting and pushing past goods he kept hidden for being the most expensive. When he came back up, he produced an ordinary looking mead bottle with no label on it. "This is a typical Nord mead, mixed with a little Ash Creep Cluster and Bonemeal. We Dunmer back on the mainland used to play a prank when another mer was courting a woman we had eyes on as well. Sneak a little bit of this in, and it'll drain a man's energy enough so that they can't get an erection for an entire day! Sneak more in, and it relaxes the bowels so much that they defecate themselves. Sneak even more in....and well, anything more potent than that and you could apply it to blades as a poison to sap stamina, but I just put in enough for the bowel movements. Give this to that drunken asshole outside, and we can see just how much like an asshole he really is!"

 

"Sounds simple enough. If you give me my forty Septims and take all this. I'll grab the bottle and trick the drunkard." 

 

The Dunmer smirked, and laughed with glee, then said, "Good! You're an adventurer, so your face isn't known around here. You can do it and no one will be able to say who did it. Not that those Nords could tell the difference. They probably say we all look the same. Within our own races, that is. Come back when it's done. I'll have the extra gold waiting for you. Here's the forty septims for the goods you gave me."

 

"Good." He put the gold in the pouch, moved all the stuff from the leather roll onto the counter before wrapping it up and putting it back over the shoulder. Grabbing the bottle of mead he left the store and walked back onto the street. The man was still rambling, only interrupted his yelling when the took a swig of mead. 

Holding the bottle like he himself was about to drink from it, Stalks walked up to the man. "Five Septims you can't drink this whole bottle." he said calmly. 

 

"Oh yelny? Feyll kjive nee aht!" The drunk said and grabbed the bottle and started gulping it down rather fast without taking much of a breath. Very soon the bottle was empty and the drunk smashed the bottle into wall. "Shive Scheplims." The drunk sounded quite triumphant. 

 

Stalks didn't reply and instead put his hand on the nord's chest and pushed. And he didn't put much force into the push but it was still enough to cause the man to lose what little balance he had and fall back on his butt into the dirt. The drunk rambled some more and tried in vain to get up. He eventually managed to get on all four and by then the poison had done it's work as the dark brown spot on the pants testified. Chuckling, Stalks walked back to the general store before the smell got too intense. As he opened the door the curses, or what he assumed were curses, followed him into the store till he closed the door and the drunk's yelling got so muffled it was almost silent. 

 

The Dunmer didn't need any words from the Argonian to know that the deed was done, he could already hear it when he came in. "Well done! Here, take it. Now I'm gone, I've got to see this!" Revyn took off like an excited boy and opened the door and ran into the cold of the bleak alleyway. In the distance, Stalks could make him out saying, "Hey! Everyone come look, Rolff shat himself!"

 

Putting the additional gold the dunmer almost threw at him into the pouch, Stalks looked around around if he could find something the store owner wouldn't miss much. Consumables were his choice of things to steal and of things the owner already had more than a few of. He grabbed one nirnroot, an apple, a couple of Septims that lied under the counter in some half forgotten corner, some Imp Stools and Swamp Fungal Pods. Then there wasn't much to it that he felt confident enough to get away with and walked out and closed the door behind him. In the distance he could see a dunmer crowd gathering around what must have been the drunkard Rolff. Though he couldn't see due to all the dunmer standing around laughing. Giving the entire event one more chuckle he walked in the opposite direction and when he was far away enough, he hauled the apple out and started eating. 

 
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Lorgar Grim-Maw/Saladin Fury-Eye

Fort Dunstad,

Mid-day

 

Knowing the terrible path of my destiny that was laid before me, and with absolute clarity of mind, I walked that path paved with the corpses of my enemies and friends alike with relis-

 

"Colonel, sir." 

 

Lorgar dropped his ink pen in annoyance, as he turned his head. A Blood Wolf Commando, in full uniform was waiting by the door into his office. He was dressed in the standard dark leather longcoat of first company, and was wearing a silk scarf that covered his lower face. Beside his Bloodwolf service badge, was his rank insignia, which showed him to be a staff sergeant. Lorgar raised his eyebrow under the painted balaclava he wore. 

 

"Yes sergeant?" 

 

The non-commissioned officer straightened his back out, and gave him a crisp saluted,

 

"Miss Homunal wishes to speak to you." 

 

With a sigh, Lorgar dropped the book he was writing in, and marked his last page, with "Sundas, 12th, Hearthfire." He gently closed the book, and said to the commando,

 

"Tell her I’ll be with her in a moment."  Nodding, the soldier turned around, and headed to the Thalmor agent's office. Lorgar himself got out of his chair, and followed out of the doorway moments later. He passed by the mess hall, and the barracks. Soldiers in his way made sure to remove themselves, and salute as he walked passed. He reached into his coat pocket, taking out a cigarette. He took out a match, and lit it gently. Putting it in his mouth, he opened the door leading to Miss Homunal’s office. As the Bloodwolves official dominion handler, she had final say in matters, and was usually very busy with paperwork.

 

As Lorgar entered her office, he glanced at her. Lorgar still wondered in amazement the striking similarities she had to him in terms of appearance, with her pale white hair, along with her deep blue eyes. She was naturally short, but her occupation as an assassin should have afforded her a more built body. To Lorgar’s knowledge, her lack of muscle was due to her having very powerful alternation magic done to her, to make herself more appealing to Dales Moitre during her failed assassination operation. Her breasts were noticeably small, but firm, and her skin was eerily pale. She was twenty eight, but she looked no more than fourteen or fifteen. Lorgar even heard she had worn Akavari styled Kimonos to seem more exotic to her target, 

 

Dales certainly has…very strange tastes in women…

 

Clearing his throat, he said,

 

“You requested my presence, ma’am.â€

 

Not bothering to avert her eyes from the document she was reading, she said in her usual emotionless tone,

 

“The Dominion Intelligence report came in.†She gently threw Lorgar a replica of the file she was reading. Lorgar caught it with his right hand, before scanning the pages for information. Most of it was useless reports, but one thing caught his eye. He snorted,

“So, were providing funding for Khajiit terrorist cells, are we?â€

 

Homunal chuckled dryly,

 

“Most likely for quite some time now. They just haven’t bothered telling us grunts until recently.†Lorgar continued reading; his facial expression was invisible underneath the balaclava.

 

“Very effective terror tactics, torching the mansions, slaughtering the men, raping the women. Sure to send chills up the spines of the imperial nobility. Incredibly sloppy though, could have simply cut their throats out under the cover of shadow, and be away much quicker.â€
 

“Less dramatic. Less effective.â€

 

“True, I suppose.â€

 

Continuing, Lorgar kept reading. Nothing else was really interesting though. Gently putting it back on Homunal’s desk, Lorgar asked the dominion agent,

 

“Was the… interrogation successful?†Homunal’s blue eyes filled with annoyance, and she said in a bitter tone,

 

“As masterful as Commander Fair-face is in her…art, no. The prisoner’s refusing to break. I highly doubt she appreciates us after we exterminated her resistance cell.† Saladin’s voice was tinged with curiosity in response,

 

“What did she exactly endure?â€

 

Homunal eyebrows raised, and she said in a deadpan tone,

 

“You want to know the grisly details?â€

 

Saladin nodded. Homunal stretched her small arms, before saying,

 

“Four advanced physical sessions, along with four advanced physiological.â€

 

Saladin’s head tilted, and the room filled with brief silence. A minute later, Saladin broke it, before turning around,

 

“How unfortunate. She is no doubt a waste of space, since if she’s remained unbroken through that, I doubt we’ll crack her. I’ll arrange to terminate her immediately.† Homunal raised her hand, stopping him from leaving the room.

 

“Hold it, that can wait. If you don’t know, I summoned you for a reason.†She put her tiny hands onto her desk, and said rather professionally, “Southeast of here is a small town, Alderwood. The local garrison if having extreme difficulties with a…Bosmer rebel cell.â€

 

“So? Let the army boys handle it. I doubt this op is vital enough to allocate Bloodwolf resources and personnel."

 

“Problem is, that “cell†I mentioned is composed of single resistance fighter.† Lorgar’s turned around in suprise and interest,

 

“A lone wolf operative?â€

 

“Yes. Hit and run attacks from the forest. All kills have been from the bow. So far thirty soldiers have been killed. I want you to handle it personally; I owe the garrison commander a favor.â€

 

Saladin let out a growl,

 

“Fine, I’ll handle it then.â€

 

“Right away?â€

 

"Fine.â€

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Rebec, Baldur

Alik'r Desert

Day

 

Rebec stirred, coughed, then gasped for breath as the sand in her throat made her feel like she was choking. Dimly she heard voices and felt hands pulling on her, dragging her up from the sand that partially buried her.

Remembering the battle suddenly, Rebec panicked and began to fight whoever was pulling on her, but she calmed when she heard Suri’s voice. They poured water over her eyes, which were swollen shut, and let her drink a little. Stinging pain cut through her back and shoulders.

Clutching at Suri, she gasped, “Baldur. Baldur...â€

“He’s gone, Aunt Rebec,†Suri answered sadly. “I’m so sorry.â€

“Dead?â€

“Just gone. Kematu is out scouting, maybe he can tell us something soon.† Suri’s voice sounded dubious.  “Come over here, sit down and let us tend your wounds.â€

Rebec hardly felt anything as Suri removed her armor and began cleaning the cuts and bruises. As moisture let her eyesight return, she saw that the sky was now a brilliant blue, the sandstorm gone as quickly as it had come on, the landscape a clean white as if scoured. Scattered provisions and dead bodies were gradually revealed as the wind cleared the grains away.  Others were digging out and being tended to, both Necro Nords and redguard.  Two of the bakyaka huddled nearby, and soon Rebec saw a Nord leading one of the horses back to their smashed caravan.

Seeing Kematu appear, Rebec jumped up and over Suri’s protests, ran over to him. “What did you see? Where have they taken Baldur?â€

Before the mercenary could speak, from behind Rebec a woman’s voice intoned, “There is nothing you can do. Your mate and his companion are offerings to Tava now.â€

Rebec whirled. It was the female guide who had been watching her the night before. The admiral stabbed a finger into the woman's chest. “Someone else is going to be an offering for your bird god! We’re going after them.â€

The woman brushed Rebec’s hand away and gave Kematu a withering look, as if to say you deal with them, if you like Nords so much.

 

Kematu's stare was hard, but it was through Rebec, not at her. This was the last thing he needed right now, the very last. Whatever reason he lost so many of his men to his second, those two were somehow related. But now he only had one, and he was slighted by his enemy again for the second time. But it couldn't be helped. "We need to move on. Nothing's changed. You're the High Admiral of Skyrim, so now you alone speak for Ulfric. You still have a mission to finish, and my enemies still want you."

 

Rebec turned back, her eyes wild. "We're going to find Baldur. There is no discussion about this. They flew off..." She paused and looked around, trying to get her bearings, but she had none. Desperation clawed her along with frustration, but she forced both down with a will. "Where were they headed? That's where we're going. Do you know where these creatures nest? You must know something about them."

 

"We don't know anything about where they went, Nord. They don't nest, not in any one spot for long, anyway. They move around, hunting in the desert. Just as we do. Nothing in the desert stays in the same place for long, like the sand in the wind. Wherever they're taking your husband, it's their temporary meeting spot to feed together. Like a pack."

 

A Necro Nord came up to the pair and said, "Admiral, the Queen's second is gone too. We found his staff in the sand and the General's axes." The soldier handed the two's belongings over, then said, "What's our next move?"

 

"We keep going," said Kematu forcibly.

 

"We search for them," Rebec said almost in unison with Kematu, and with equal force.

 

From behind them, Suri spoke. She was gazing at her compass. "The storm came out of the north. The creatures were flying parallel to the front. They went east." She paused, then pointed out towards the horizon. "That direction... I think."

 

"That's good enough for me." Rebec took Baldur's axes and Menel's staff, and took them over towards a bakyaka. "Gather what you can, men, but all we really need is food and water. We have to have speed now."

 

"Damn it, you stubborn Nords! We don't have time to delay ourselves any further, I need to deal with these upstarts, you need to talk to the Crowns. The Oasis invitation was clearly a trap, but my men are there, waiting, probably with no idea we were attacked. If those ambushers get back and they think I'm dead, my men will be dead and the power struggle in the Alik'r will continue. You don't want that, you need our numbers for the war. Now I'm sorry that your friends are d-" Kematu paused, when he realized his mistake and silently cursed. "We have to move."

 

Falgrum stepped forward now, as did some of the other soldiers with hands going for weapons as if Kematu just admitted to killing the two himself. "Watch your ******* mouth, Redguard."

 

"Or you'll what? I'll say it again, they're dead," said Kematu, letting anger get to him, which wasn't like him. But his Alik'r warrior band was at stake. "And if they're not, they'll make their way to the meeting point, just like us."

 

Rebec turned around. "We're going to look for them, with or without you. Baldur is one half of this diplomatic mission and we're not just going to abandon him and Menel- our queen's second, in case you got sand in your ears- without even trying to rescue them. And if we all die, then it will be known that you abandoned diplomats under your protection and your enemies succeeded. How will that look for your men?"

 

"You realize what a waste of time searching for him is, right? You're assuming the harpies didn't change direction, and that they're traveling in a straight line. We waste more time and my men get attacked, then your diplomatic mission in the Alik'r is over. That happens, and the Crowns and Forebear won't have the confidence to make any negotiations with you. We're a lot more important to this region than you realize, Nord."

 

Falgrum stepped forward now, then said, "Then let's get moving. I'll follow you to the meeting while the High Admiral searches."

 

"Who the hell are you, exactly?" Kematu said. "I need the High Admiral with me. I don't know who you are, and neither will they. They want her and I have her. She's the only bargaining piece I have."

 

"That isn't true, I'm the Necro Nord Commander, which means I'm in charge. General Brund may outrank me in the Stormcloaks, but among us, I outrank him, which means I have say over these men, and when High General Red-Snow's gone, I serve in his stead. So that means I can speak for Skyrim until the Admiral returns. With or without him. So I'm promoting myself to High General. Now move your ass and let's go if you're in such a hurry. And if they don't like me, then they'll have no choice but to wait on her anyway," said Falgrum.

 

"They'd just kill us if that was the case. You better be ri-"

 

"I am," the Nord Commander said, cutting Kematu off. It wasn't true what he said about speaking for Baldur. Unless Rebec died too, he was still just a body guard, and he couldn't promote himself to High General either. But there wasn't any other way to resolve the issue at the moment, so Falgrum was going to have to play diplomat in the mean time. Looking at Rebec, he winked with his good eye when Kematu wasn't looking.

 

Rebec's hand had tightened its grip on her axe hilt as the Alik'r talked about "having" her, but she relaxed it when a deal had been struck. She wanted Falgrum and Kematu with her, all the better to find Baldur, but if they came to blows then she would be no closer to helping him.

 

"That's settled then. The guides will come with me, since you know where you're going. One bakyaka apiece."

 

The female guide spoke up. "We can go faster without a beast. Carry water on our backs."

 

That sounded like suicide, but when Rebec looked at Suri, the young woman nodded. "Speed. We'll take some provisions on the horse."

 

"Alright then, it's settled." Rebec wasted no more time talking, though there was some discussion among the Necro Nords about how many would go with her. Most of them felt responsible for her and Baldur, but she directed half to accompany Falgrum. If there was a trap waiting for him up ahead, they would not go down easily.

 

Still, as she looked back at Falgrum and Kematu, Rebec thought it was far more likely that they would get out of it alive than she would. Kematu didn't waste time with goodbyes, and Falgrum knew time was of the essence, so he headed off quickly with Kematu and the eight other Necro Nords ordered to follow him. Rebec got nine others, as two were killed in the ambush. Which made eighteen of them left, not counting Baldur.

 

"Nords. Foolish. This is why you don't marry high ranking officers and have them lead armies. Now your blasted High Admiral's off chasing her dead husband and I'm stuck with y-"

 

Kematu was cut off by the sudden appearance of a Nordic Carved Greatsword in his face the length of a child. Kematu stared at the point, but his expression was the same. Falgrum's was not. The other Nords stood by, waiting to see how it would play out. "Say it. Say it one more time, desert rat, and your brains will paint the sand." Kematu nodded with his head below him, and Falgrum could see the Redguard had his sword out as well, pointing to his gut, as well as a glowing green hand.

 

"You've got reach. I've got a paralysis spell. I wonder who's faster, Nord. You don't want to find out. We'll both end up dead," said Kematu.

 

"I'm a Grim One. I'm already dead. Now move, asshole." Kematu sheathed his blade, as did Falgrum, then they continued on their journey silently for the remainder of the trip.

 

***

As they walked along, Rebec tried to keep her fear at bay. It would only cloud her judgment, and she needed all her wits if she were to get Suri and herself out of this alive, let alone rescue her husband and Menel.

Suri came up alongside. “Aunt Rebec...â€

“I don’t want to talk about it, Suri. Let’s just keep concentrating on the way ahead. Look for any traces, something they might have dropped as clues of where they were taken, feathers...† It was implausible that the desert wind would have left anything like that. Even as they spoke, it was raking across the sands, erasing tracks.

But then the guide did see something. She pointed at a dark stain on the sand. “Their leavings.â€

Rebec bent down to examine the stain, then wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Harpy scat smells worse than troll. Well, we know we’re on the right trail.â€

As evening drew in, they came to the ruins of an abandoned town built partially into some red cliff walls. Mud huts extended outward, most of them crumbled in. Rebec didn’t want to stop, but the guide convinced her that they should rest until the moons were high and could allow them to continue on.  She lay on her bedroll, acutely aware that the warm body she had grown accustomed to sleeping next to wasn’t there. Hold on, Baldur. You survived the war and Thalmor torture, you can survive this.  

When they started moving again, the guide insisted they turn south. “The warrior, he told you half the truth,†she said. “He didn’t want you to know so that you would follow him instead. We know a place Tava’s children like. Bad place. I hope you can hear the drums of your ancestors calling you. You will need their guidance to the Far Shores today, I think.â€

“Guess she hasn’t heard of Sovngarde,†one of the Nords grumbled.

As they came up over a dune later that day, the guide pointed towards a line of ridges, blood red with streaks of mineral green and blue. “Bad place.â€

The admiral took out her spyglass and searched the cliffs. There was no movement, but she thought she saw piles of brush grass and wood that looked like bird nests. That made her heart race with hope. “Let’s go.â€

As the group reached the first line of hills, there was a screech and the flap of large wings. What appeared over the ridge wasn’t a harpy, however. The creature had the body of a sleek sabre cat, a serpentine face with a row of fangs, compact wings that let it hop short distances and pounce, and on the back was a curved stinger like a scorpion’s, only much larger.

The redguard guides shouted in dismay, “MANTAKYA-KAUR!â€

Rebec didn’t stand around to gawk at the fearsome-looking beast. She had her crossbow out and firing at it before the long name was off the redguards’ lips.  The Necro Nords’ discipline also showed, and they formed a defensive circle around Rebec and Suri, swords and axes ready.

The monster swerved when it saw the defenders. Rebec’s bolt stuck in its foreleg, though it hardly seemed to notice. Flying across to the ridge behind them, the manticore paced, snarling down at them. Rebec loaded another bolt and fired it towards the creature’s neck. Hissing as it struck, the beast batted at the bolt with one clawed foot, but kept pacing.

They didn’t hear the other manticore until one of the Nords gave a yell and went rigid, his eyes bulging from the poison of the creature’s sting.  The man’s neighbor gave a battle cry that made the creature pause, but as the Nord rushed it, the manticore stood up on its hind legs and grasped him as if in a deadly embrace, its fangs snapping at his neck.  Blood shot out from the man’s headless neck as the manticore tossed the man’s head aside, still helmeted.

The creature then turned its eyes on Rebec, exposed by the gap in the line.  In the meantime the first manticore had leapt down on the defenders from the other side and was thrashing around as sword and axe tried to make cuts in its tough hide, the fighters always having to dodge the stinger.

“Aunt Rebec!†Suri saw the second manticore preparing to charge her aunt. Rebec had dropped her crossbow and drawn her axes.  Out of instinct more than planning, Suri shouted at the creature and waved her arms. “Hey you! Hey! Over here!â€

The manticore stopped and turned its eyes on Suri, now seemingly undecided about which target to go after.
 

It started forward slowly, leonine, but even the beast stopped when something else came over the ridge. It looked like sand devils, but these made straight for the warrior group, and sometimes there appeared to be a woman’s body with glowing eyes amidst the swirling grains of sand. They were sand wraiths, attracted to the sound of battle, and they swept into the valley, attacking man and manticore alike.

Rebec cursed and shouted over at Suri. “Let’s finish this one. When it charges, you go right and I go left. Then let me handle it. Grab your bow and let loose.â€

The manticore paced, appearing to consider retreating, but its mate was in the thick of battle and its own rage got the better of it.  With a growl it began to run, and took a leap towards Suri, who sprung aside and had to roll to miss the stinger that came over the beast’s head and tried to pin her. Rebec advanced quickly and brought both axes down in unison, slashing the manticore’s hind quarter.  The beast roared and buckled, turning around to look for its tormentor.  In that moment, Suri got to her feet and lifted her sword, ready to plunge it into the beast’s head, but the manticore saw the motion and reacted with a swipe of its powerful clawed hand that knocked the redguard aside like a doll.

Rebec dislodged her axes and struck again, this time at the stinger, burying Kyne’s Talon so deeply that the stinger lopped sideways on its own weight. The manticore stumbled and shrieked, but with a growl it clawed forward, eyes intent on Suri.

The girl was on the ground, scrambling back. “Aunt Rebec!†Suri’s voice was panicky.

There was more reason to panic than she knew. Behind them, a sand wraith was coming towards them, drinking up the blood that congealed on the sand. Rebec saw it and knew they had little time. Her niece had little time. Desperate, Rebec remembered a weapon she possessed that in the right circumstance was even more powerful than an axe- but would it work?

Turning Jodun’s ring around on her hand, Rebec slammed her palm down on the manticore’s flank. The serpent stone on the ring glowed as its power was engaged. Shuddering, the manticore stumbled sideways and fell. It was still growling and the stinger moved lazily, so it was not paralyzed completely, but incapacitated for now. Rebec ran to meet the wraith.

How do you fight sand? Damn quickly, that’s how.  Rebec used one arm to shield her face while she slashed back and forth at the center of the whirling mass.  Burning hot sand blistered her skin. The wraith didn’t bleed, but it jerked at every blow and seemed to weaken. Suri had found her bow and was shooting arrows into its center as well. Finally the sand cyclone dissipated in a yellow flash as the demon in it was sent back to Oblivion.

Rebec turned, and her mouth fell open in horror. “SURI! WATCH OUT!â€

Behind the redguard, the manticore had struggled to its feet. Its stinger reached forward and prodded Suri’s back, then the manticore opened its maw, sunk its fangs into her, and flung its head, tossing Suri through the air and into a cliff face.  Her body hit the rock with a thud and crumpled to the ground, motionless.

The admiral screamed, stood rooted a moment, then her horror turned to rage. Baldur was probably dead, and now this overgrown lizard lion was hoping to turn her family into a meal. Sheathing her axes, Rebec drew her rope, swung the lasso, and aimed it towards the beast’s head. The loop closed over the manticore’s neck, and before it could react, Rebec ran forward, wrapped the other end around the creature’s stinger, and knotted it quickly to hobble the creature’s movement.  If it were at full strength, the manticore could no doubt snap the rope, but already injured and still suffering effects from the ring’s paralysis power, it tried to turn towards Rebec and stumbled. It was enough that Rebec could draw her axes and hack at the stinger until it fell aside, useless. She then came around and buried her axes again and again into the creature’s skull until its head was a bloody mess, the jaws snapping ineffectually.

 

Suri was unconscious, her own blood pooling beneath her. Her body was so rigid that Rebec was reminded of the stiffness of the dead bodies she had buried in the war, but Suri’s skin was still warm. She was paralyzed from the manticore’s poison, not dead. The other manticore lay dead, as well, and the survivors began going around helping their comrades. The redguard guide came over to where Rebec struggled to get Suri’s armor off. The guide bent down and pulled Suri’s eyelids back. Her pupils were as big as saucers. Frowning, the guide said, “We must go quickly. Cannot stay here. Others  will come. I know a place.†At Rebec’s hesitation, the woman said, “Your mate may be dead, but this woman will also die if we stay.â€

Rebec looked past her at the decimated group of Nords and redguard, many bleeding from injuries and marked with burns. They were in no shape to fight anything right now. She looked back at Suri. The girl’s face was ashen. “Hang on, Suri,†Rebec whispered. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.â€

The horse was nearby, trembling like a leaf but unhurt. They made a litter and laid Suri and other injured on it. The dead they would have to leave behind. Rebec was numb as they walked. She had known this trip was dangerous, but the desert was grinding them down one by one. If it left her alive and took the others... No. I’m going to save them both.

It was twilight when they saw a structure made of dark blue stone, square with towers at the corners, set up on a plateau. It appeared deserted, but when they knocked on the high door, it eventually opened. The guide spoke dialect with someone within, and they were admitted.

“What is this place?†Rebec asked her.

“It is a holy place. One of the last like it. They revere the Ebon Arm.â€

Rebec paused, staring after her. Suri revered Ebonarm and considered him her patron. This had to be a good omen... didn’t it?

The inner courts were echoing and cool, though they occasionally saw dark-robed figures. There were only a few sconces burning, but moonslight shown through the windows in the room where Rebec and Suri were installed. Two indigo-robed female healers came in to check their wounds.

“Her first.†Rebec pointed at where Suri lay on the bed, still unconscious. The faces of the women were grave as they examined the girl, though when one turned to Rebec, she smiled and nodded once at being asked how Suri was doing.

“You must rest,†the healer said as she bathed and dressed Rebec’s wounds. “This one is infected.†It was one of the older tears from the harpy claws.

Still, Rebec fought sleep, sitting in a chair by Suri’s bed, and trying not to think of Baldur.  Sometime during the night, a wiry old redguard man appeared at the door. He was robed, but wore an ebony sword at his side. He nodded once at Rebec. “My name is Asafu. I am Ansei here.â€

“Rebec Red-Snow, High Admiral of Skyrim. Thank you for helping us.â€

The Ebonarm priest nodded, then folded his hands and regarded Suri for a long moment. Gesturing, he said finally, “I wonder, does she go to the Far Shores or to Sovngarde?â€

Bristling, Rebec sat up. “She’s not going to either one.â€

“She is already there.â€

Rebec turned to look at Suri, her heart thumping. “No, you’re wrong.†As she took the girl’s hand, however, she found it still stiff, and this time cold.

From the door the Ansei said, “The poison of the mantakya-kaur, it lodges in the heart, weakens it. Sometimes the heart cannot recover. You did not reach us in time. I am sorry.â€

“No. No, no.†Rebec brushed her hand over Suri’s forehead and willed the girl’s eyes to open.  No, no, no, no, not Suri. Not Baldur.

Rebec climbed into the bed and curled up against Suri’s lifeless form, arm thrown over her protectively. She felt like she was falling from a great height. She hadn’t reached the bottom before sleep overtook her.

 

***

 

Earlier just after the storm

 

A great gust of wind passed by. And then another. And another, but this time stronger. All around it was dark, but Baldur could feel air pressing against his face. He opened his eyes now, and when he did, Skyrim's fair blankets covering the ground greeted his sight below his feet, very far away. The confusion of the sight passed when the shrieking cry of a mighty bird of prey called up above him. His neck was stiff from looking down so long as he slept, but he willed himself to look up. Greeting his vision was the sight of a beautiful and very large hawk-like creature, which was holding him between its powerful claws, wrapped around his body.

 

Feeling him stir, the bird looked down at him and seemed to be smiling, even though that was not possible. It was more of a feeling than anything else. He at first was terrified of being so high, but strangely, the higher the bird soared, the safer he felt. It was almost nostalgic, the view of the sky before him. As if he was once up here before. Wearily, he said, "Where are we going?"

 

The bird let out another striking cry, this one so loud that Baldur's ears reverberated from the sound. But he had a sense that the thing said home. He smiled at that and nestled in her talons. Feeling once again safe in her embrace.

 

Suddenly, Baldur heard a loud hiss from below him, which sent chills down his spine, and he could sense that the bird holding him felt the same feeling. Below him was the form of a grey and hideous giant snake, baring its fangs at the mighty bird and Baldur as well. It was covered in a cloud of ash, so he couldn't quite make out its full size, but it was large. Very large. The more it hissed, the more Baldur thought he could understand what it was saying.

 

"Home is with me! You know it well. Come down here and stay with me. You're mine." The great snake shot up at them with a velocity that seemed impossible for anything that large. When he did, it released from its sides what looked like a sort of hood within its skin that made its body look larger, and there was a large cavity in the middle of the thing's body. A hole missing from it. Instinctively Baldur knew it was the thing's heart, but he got the feeling this particular snake's real missing heart wasn't something he could see.

 

The sight of it made him melancholic, as if he remembered the thing that took it from him. The thing's face then changed, and for a second Baldur thought it stole his face away, as it looked just like him. No, it wasn't him. Someone else, someone different, someone bad. Strangely enough, a part of him wanted to go with the snake. But the presence of the bird made him want to stay much more.

 

But he wasn't sure that would be up to him. As large as the snake was, it couldn't raise up quite high enough to get to him, but when it opened its mouth, it shot out two large streams of venom so great in size, that they looked like green rivers rushing towards them. The bird skillfully dodged what it could, but there was just so much. The bird was struck in its wings, and the venom ate away at it like a corroding acid. It gave another powerful shriek, but in its pain, it let go of Baldur, causing him to fall at great velocity towards the head of the snake. The thing hissed again, as if it was laughing, then said, "Soon, you'll be home!"

 

Baldur looked away back to the skies, watching as the great bird dived towards him to try and reach him. and he reached out towards her with his hand, but he just got further and further away....

 

The great bird shrieked again, but this time its call sounded closer, but not as mighty. It was an ugly screech that filled him with dread. A sharp pain went off immediately after that on the tip of his head, as if the thing pecked him, but it was too far away for that. Another peck struck him in his skull again, then....

 

"Ahhh! ****!" Baldur suddenly snapped out of his dream, but for a second, he wondered if he was still dreaming. He felt the same air, but this time it was much hotter. And there was something in his eye stinging him. Some liquid that he could feel on his head falling over his face.

 

Blood. He saw it drip down on his chest, from the sharp pain in his head. Then far below his feet, he could see not the welcoming sight of snow, but the harsh blazing bright light coming from the tan sand of Hammerfell's deserts as he soared high above them. Then the memory of what happened hit him like a tidal wave. The pain in his shoulders from talons lodged deep into him also confirmed where he was. A black mass above his head flapping in the air filled in the rest. The last thing he remembered was seeing Rebec grow smaller and smaller as he went higher and higher into the air, carried away by the abhorrent monsters of his nightmares.

 

Seeing that, he let out a panicked cry of fear and disgust from the close proximity. He could see its grotesque looking bosom flapping in the air as well, and blood was dripping down from his shoulder while he struggled. "I must have blacked out from the pain. Or blood-loss. You ******* bird! Let me go! Wait, on second thought, don't let me go!" he said, realizing just how high they were. Looking around in a panic, Baldur could make out the shapes of other harpies nearby, looking back at him from the noise he made. One of them had a round looking figure under it, being carried in the same manner as he was. The blood in his eye prevented him from seeing clearly, but he was sure it was another person. "Hey! Who's there?" he said, squinting at the person in the air with his left eye in vain.

 

The round lump under the other bird stirred and groaned. Menel had had no visions or dreams during his flight across the Alik'r. He blacked out from fright and lack of oxygen early on. Now that he was somewhat conscious, he wished he'd never woken up at all.

 

Spitting feathers out of his mouth, he glanced over, saw Baldur, then realized how far they were off the ground and nearly passed out again. "Oh, I'm not here, this isn't happening," he moaned. "I'm near a warm fire and the meat's almost done..."

 

Baldur's eyes squinted from the familiar voice, then he said, "Menel? I should have known that voluptuous body was yours! You okay?" Baldur still couldn't see, and tried to move his arms, but he realized he couldn't feel them at the moment. Perhaps it was the pain shooting down from his shoulders that made them numb, or the blood-loss, but whatever it was, they felt as if they were missing. But he found that with concentration he could make them move still, albeit stiffly. Using his hands to wipe away the blood, he could finally clearly see the Bosmer wizard beside him a little ways off.

 

"Are you making a pass at me, Red-Snow? This is hardly the time." The elf shifted, testing the harpy's grip, but it only caused the bird to lodge her talons more firmly around his shoulders. Anyway, it was a long way down.

 

He strained to look over at Baldur and shouted over, "I hope you have a plan, General. I don't want to get wherever they're going."

 

Baldur looked below his feet dangling in the air, then around at the creatures by him, and back to Menel. Now that he could move his arms, the feeling was slowly starting to come back, but not quickly enough for his liking. He lifted them slowly up to look at his shaking hands, and then brought them to fists in anger. He had no plan. "We're fucked."

 

Baldur took a look at his wedding ring, and the blue eyed snake made him think on his dream. No, I don't want to go just yet. I've got to get back to my family. Baldur lifted his arms a bit higher, but the more he did, the more pain shot up from his shoulders to throughout his arms. "Gah, damnit!" Baldur took another look at his wedding ring, then finally knew what he had to do. "I've got a plan, but you're not gonna like it. How much can you move your arms?"

 

Menel flapped his arms a bit, looking like a sick bird himself. "A little. When you say I won't like it, I hope you're being dramatic."

 

"Don't worry, you have magic. This may be easier for you. And really, anything we do can't be any worse than being eaten by these ******* things right?"

 

"Oh, I see, it's all up to me, is it?" The truth was that casting spells required mental discipline. Meanwhile, Menel was about to piss his fancy redguard armor.

 

"Not quite, but your magic sure would help right about now," Baldur yelled, sounding annoyed. "Well, I can't really get you to help me, but you can help yourself. When I say go, I want you to cast a calm spell on the thing holding you. Make sure you're grabbing the thing's leg first! It may loosen it's grip when you do so. Then climb up on its back. After that...you gotta persuade it to land. Force it any way you can. As for me, I'll improvise. You ready?"

 

"Are you serious?! That's your big plan?" Grumbling, Menel paused to collect his thoughts. He had known a Calm spell, once, before his life started flashing before his eyes. Taking a deep breath to concentrate didn't help, as he just swallowed a feather and started choking. "Oh gods," he said when he could breathe again, his tone miserable. "We're going to die."

 

"Shut it, you're a Stormcloak remember! That talk is for milkdrinkers, and I know you're not. At least this way we got a chance to fight these things. Don't kill it, just torment it. We should be able to make these things flop d- Ahh!" The harpie carrying Baldur apparently didn't like all the chatter going on between the two, and pecked him right on the open wound on the top of his skull. "Damnit that's it! We're going now."

 

Baldur thought back to what he said to Suri about liking to fight, and how that had changed. He didn't care before if he died because there was nothing to hold on to. But now..."Uh, Menel. In case I do die...tell Rebec..." Looking down below his feet and at the blood trickling from his arm, he realized just how screwed they both really were. This may be the last moments of his life after all. The realization of it just hit him at that moment, and the thought of Rebec being alone, maybe even remarrying one day made him sick in his stomach. He didn't really think she would, but with time, who really knew? Maybe to some captain, like that Bel Aksim guy...

 

"No, **** that! We're getting out of this right now. No more talk, on my count, Menel..."

 

"Oh, why do I always end up in spots like this. It's always me." Menel fought back the nausea and panic, thinking about Baldur's mention of his wife. He didn't have any such reasons to get out of this mess, but the Nord did, and he himself wasn't ready to die. Not in such humiliating fashion. "Alright, alright. Calm spell in three, two..." The Bosmer cut off to mumble the spell's incantation, and painfully reached his right hand up and back, hoping it was aimed at the harpy and not empty air or his own head.

 

Baldur saw the aura of green light surround the creature, and immediately began to work. "It hit! Grab its leg before it lets go!" Baldur raised his right arm quickly, ignoring the pain of the creature's dagger like talons going deeper into his flesh as he reached up. Yelling out from the pain as he grabbed its leg, Baldur reached over with his left hand at the same leg and pulled his head closer to it, causing tears to come into his eyes before he was finally close enough to clench his teeth into the now madly squawking harpy's leg.

 

Hang on- that was the part Menel forgot. It was always something.

 

The relaxed, happy harpy slowed her flapping and loosened her grip, forgetting what she had intended to do with the rotund elf in the first place. Then it was Menel's turn to claw, kick and scramble to hold on to her leg. "Aaaaaagghhhh!"  His grip was loosening when the harpy, sick of all the nonsense and just wanting to go home, shook her leg violently to try to loose its burden.

 

Fortunately for Menel, she had the most force on the upswing, and instead of dropping like a rock, he was flung upward towards the harpy's side. The Bosmer grabbed one, then another feather that simply came loose in his hand. "Oh Yffre!  Oh ancestors!" Menel wailed, and the harpy squawked, not liking this circumstance anymore than he. She dipped and turned, stretching out her wings to glide, hoping it would shake the noisome bug off.

 

Menel lay prone, stretched out on the harpy's outstretched wing, afraid to move. They were careening towards some mineral-painted mountains, and he guessed they were nearing the eyrie. Sheer survival instinct made him crawl painfully, slowly, up the harpy's wing towards its back. Once there, he buried his hands in feathers and hung on. Now what?  He looked back to try and catch a glimpse of the general.

 

Baldur's ordeal hadn't gone as smoothly as planned. The bird was attacking him as if frenzied, and while beating at him with her wings to get him off her leg, the two started to rise up higher, before eventually the bird abandoned trying to hit him all together and instead soared up very quickly, then down to try and throw him up and away from her. At one point, Baldur actually lost his grip completely, but he managed to grab a wing at the very last second, which he now hanged on to for dear life. He was being swung around like a ragdoll, flapping around along with her wing, while she tried taking out his eyes with her beak.

 

Baldur could see the other harpies coming after him now, five total. He was running out of time. Baldur losing all options repeatedly punched at the harpie's head with his right hand while the left one hanged on to a wing. Every time she came in to peck, Baldur connected with a swing. It didn't always hit her; sometimes he'd hit a beak instead, and now his fist was bleeding as well, and all the shaking of the wings made him throw up. But he kept on punching and punching, until finally one connected hard enough. Perhaps too hard. The bird lost all its senses and fell from the sky like a rock at an alarming rate.

 

Baldur screamed as the two interlocked foes flew straight between the crowd of harpies coming at them. The harpy Baldur was holding on to collided in a explosion of feathers with another harpy in mid air. Baldur had the wind knocked out of him, as did the creature, but they soon recovered, and the second harpy flew around the now unconscious one, beating it off of her with her wings before finally straightening up, and descending to reach the harpy Menel was on. It hadn't noticed the extra weight at first, due to having been dazed from the impact, but Baldur was clinging to its back, and holding onto its feathers for dear life. 

 

The bird did some aerial maneuvers, flying around in a spiral, but the Nord grabbed its neck and was going nowhere. Baldur's eyes were closed while it flipped, but he felt like throwing up again all the same. Stealing a glance at his wedding ring one last time, Baldur knew what he had to do. He wouldn't like it, but it was time he made this freak land. "Birds don't always beat snakes, bitch!" After pulling his head back, Baldur let out a long battlecry, then slammed his open mouth onto the neck of the bird before sinking his teeth into her flesh enough to taste its blood. It was disgusting, a sickly sweet taste that was unexpected, but it only made him angry and sink his teeth deeper. His arms and legs did not remain idle. They both squeezed around the bird's body for all that the Nord was worth, like a boa constrictor.

 

The effect was immediate. The Nord and the bird started falling down, but at an angle, which let Baldur know the creature had enough control to slow down. Otherwise, it would have fallen straight down like the other harpy did. It was trying to scare him, and it started squawking and flapping around madly when Baldur decided to squeeze and bite even harder. The other harpies were in pursuit as the Nord general descended towards the sand of the Alik'r desert.

 

Menel's eyes fixed not on Baldur, but on the other harpies who had come to fight their sisters over the prizes. Eyes widening, the Bosmer realized that time really was growing short for this adventure to end.

 

"Um, alright.... let's see..." Still clinging to the harpy's back, he began to riffle through his mental bag of magic tricks. He was interrupted once when the harpy squawked angrily, a sign that the Calm spell had worn off. Menel cast the spell again, putting the harpy back into blissful apathy, then decided on an experiment. His mastery of alteration was chancy at best, but he had studied paralysis on some hapless apprentices.

 

Waiting until the harpy was in glide mode again, he tried the spell. It had the effect he hoped- the harpy was frozen into her gliding stance.  Menel shifted forward carefully to adjust the weight, and both harpy and elf began to dip towards the ground.  It required several more castings until the harpy was so close to the ground that Menel could safely tumble off her back- but then, he found himself paralyzed, not by magic but by fear. The thought of bones cracking and being impaled on sharp stones kept him on the harpy's back. She started to climb again. Finally, desperate, Menel cast the paralysis spell once more, spied a dune he hoped would give him a soft landing, and jumped, screaming all the way down until he hit the ground with a thud and started rolling down the slope.

 

Baldur's ride wasn't quite as smooth, but the descent was steady. One of the other harpies caught up to the pair however, and was trying to get a grip on Baldur, but his shield was still on his back, preventing any grabbing from his behind. It tried to desperately grip at the furiously flapping cape fabric from under the shield, but he was going too fast, and the harpy's claws tore straight through the cape's bottom. The two soared over the rocks Menel glided over, and the bird desperately tried scraping Baldur off on them by flying upside down, but the shield once again prevailed, making loud scraping noises as the two surfaces collided. Baldur once again clenched his teeth, causing the harpy to straighten up, although Baldur still had the problem of the other harpy in pursuit.

 

He couldn't hear the squawks of the other ones however, meaning they either gave up or went after Menel. He didn't have time to think on that now though, as the other harpy finally caught up, and was inching closer to Baldur's right side, ready to peck his eyes out. The creature got even closer now, so close that Baldur could smell the thing's breath. He had to pull back as it struck out towards his face, and when it tried again, Baldur made it fall back by quickly punching it between the eyes. When it recovered and tried catching up, Baldur threw his weight to the right hard, causing his harpy ride to veer off to the side so hard that when he stuck his foot out, it connected with the second bird and caused it to fall face first into the rocks, where it stayed and did not get up.

 

Seeing that made him nervous, as landing time was coming soon. Maybe sooner then he thought, as the harpy seemed to be losing too much blood, and its flapping got weaker. Baldur let its neck go and tried holding onto the wound, but it was too late. The bird was falling now, flapping as much as it could manage, but the approach was still way too fast for Baldur's liking. All he could manage to do was brace for impact as the harpy fell hard into the reddish soil before they could reach the dunes Menel got to. He managed to echo a quick prayer to Kyne just before the impact, and before the General was knocked out.

 

Menel had just started to think that the rolling, rolling, rolling down the slope of the dune had a curiously calming effect. He had started to form the thesis of a new illusion spell based on the sensation when he hit the bottom of the dune and came to a halt, staring up at the sun. This, too, was comforting in its own way, and anyway when he tried to move, his bruised and scratched-up body complained. So he decided to lay there a while and ponder the mortal condition.

 

Vaguely, the Bosmer heard Baldur yelling, and tried to ignore it. Not like he could do anything about it anyway. What he could not ignore was the squawk of several harpies who had crested the dune and were looking down at him, a fat little worm that would make a nice meal for one or three of them.

 

As two of the harpies began running towards him in their comically awkward gait, and the other took flight and started circling around to cut off his retreat, Menel leaped up. "Oh no you don't! I'm not falling for that trick again!" Shouting a battle cry, he lobbed a fireball at the two harpies and then turned his attention on the one in flight, and aimed several lightning bolts at it. The fire spell proved especially effective, catching the unlucky harpies' feathers like kindling. Squawking in pain and rolling wildly, they managed to put out the flames in the sand, but Menel hit them with another fireball just as they were recovering from the first.

 

The harpy in flight took longer to manage, but eventually she came tumbling out of the air, too, feathers smoking, and only twitched a little on the sand. Satisfied, Menel started running as fast as he could waddle towards where he had heard Baldur's voice. Now his battle rage was up, and though it might take them a while to get there, you didn't want to be around a Bosmer when he got really mad.

 

When Baldur finally arose from his slumber, the first thing that greeted his sight was the rosy and purple colors of the darkening sky. He laid in his fallen position for a while until his senses came to him, which unfortunately meant he could feel pain again. He screamed out from his body's agony, and when he could feel something stabbing into his arm and leg.

 

He managed to lean up and see two pieces of harpy rib piercing him just above his knee on the side and into his upper bicep. He could move his leg, but his left arm was numb, and felt almost useless. The harpie itself had a broken wing as well as a ribcage from Baldur's weight, and of course an open neck wound. The thing's leg was snapped back as well, which gave Baldur an idea.

 

He stood up slowly and painfully, acutely aware of all the cuts and scrapes, as well as the bone stuck in him as he limped over to the harpy body. His right pant leg was torn, completely revealing his lower right leg while the rest of the cloth hanged over his foot. He remembered dropping his axes back at the storm, and knew he'd need some form of weaponry, so he made do by stomping on the harpy leg and tearing the bottom half off.

 

He then tore the bone off from the foot by stomping on it and ripping the bone out with his right hand, then gripped it between his fingers. He would use the talons as daggers if he encountered anyone or anything else. Satisfied that he was no longer defenseless, he made his way to the dunes where he last saw Menel. Slowly. As that was all he could manage with his injured leg. But at least he was alive, for now.

 

Menel came charging up over a dune, his eyes wild and a fire spell primed in both hands, but there were no more harpies to char, just a wounded Baldur limping towards him.

 

"General! I..." The Bosmer was about to say something, when the adrenaline eased, and pain, exhaustion and dehydration took its place. Crumpling to his knees, he looked wearily up at Baldur and said, "I don't know about you, but I've felt better."

 

Baldur wanted to collapse as well, but his desire to get back with the others made him stay where he was. "I feel like I've just been shitted. But..we've got to keep moving. Especially now while it's cool." Baldur wearily turned around and took a knee on his good leg. "There's a pouch of water under my shield. Remove it and drink. I need you to be strong enough to heal my wounds and pull out these bones."

 

At mention of pulling out bones, Menel's eyes fell to the harpy bones protruding from Baldur's leg and arm, and he made a face. "Ugh. I've seen some injuries in my time, but that... that takes the cake."  Mmm, cake...

 

Wearily Menel got to his feet and retrieved the skin from under the general's shield. He drank and then handed it back. "Wish we had something stiffer. You know I can't heal you before those things are out. All of them. If I cast a heal spell on you, the flesh will just close over those bones and they'll do even more damage coming out. In absence of drink, then..."

 

The Bosmer cast a calm spell on Baldur, then unceremoniously yanked the harpy bone from his bicep. He had used this one-two combination to treat trauma before, but sometimes the patient took a swing at him just out of reflex. He waited, ready to duck, before he went on to remove the other bones.

 

Baldur couldn't feel his left arm much, so he didn't react much from the initial yank. However when Menel yanked out the second one from his leg, his muscles just collapsed, causing him to keel over in the dirt. Baldur growled out at Menel and kicked at him from instinctive anger caused by the pain. "Sorry about that. I guess I should have mentioned the shield is magic resistant. Take that off before you start healing."

 

"Oh...oh yes, you might have mentioned that." He went around and gingerly unloosed the shield's straps, tossing it aside. "So you withstood that without the calm spell? Nords, stoic, I see." Menel cast it again for good measure before yanking out the other harpy bone, and quickly following it up with a healing spell.

 

"Healing spells aren't automatic, you know," he said, as if to an apprentice. "They work by accelerating the body's natural processes. If something is interfering with those, it won't take well. Something like exhaustion..." The Bosmer was getting around to suggesting they find a safe place- if there was such a thing in this gods-cursed desert- to bed down for the night. He had a sneaking suspicion the general would be bent on finding his wife.

 

Baldur allowed himself to relax so that the calm spell could take as much of an effect on him as possible. It helped a great deal when it came to ignoring the pain, but his anxiousness to see Rebec and Suri again was too great. "We can rest once we've found the others, Menel. It'll only be harder in the morning with the sun up. You want to rest, then that would be the time to do it." He tried looking around to find the moons, but he couldn't see it from this angle. "Tell me, are the moons out tonight? And please say one of them is a crest."

 

Grumbling, Menel stood and looked out over the horizon. Reluctantly he said, "I suppose they are."

 

"Follow the line from the bottom of the crest to the top of the one with light on its right. That's North. Those things took us east. I can tell from where the sun was when we were taken out of the storm. We'll backtrack west until we reach where we were, then North to the Oasis where the others should be." Baldur learned that trick from his father a long time ago. It was something all legion commanders knew, as well as Stormcloak commanders and practically every sailor.

 

Menel squinted. "The line from the bottom of the... Oh, blast it, let me help you up. You'd better do the navigating."  Grumpily the Bosmer thought how it would soon be so hot you could cook a sausage just by setting it out on a stone.  If you had a sausage, which he didn't.  More was the pity. There was nothing for it but to trudge on.

 

***

Even though she didn’t want to sleep, grief and the effects of her own wounds drew Rebec into a few hours of deep rest. When she awoke, there was soft rose light coming in from the courtyard outside her room.

Rebec sat up on her hand and regarded Suri mournfully. She appeared so peaceful, lying there, her hair spread out on the pillow. Images flashed before Rebec’s eyes, of Vilnur with a bundle on his arm so tiny that he was afraid to hold her; then a little girl with braids following Rebec around and wanting to hold her axe and saying that she was going to be a sailor just like her. That fascination had ended early. Later on, she grew more serious, studious, always polite. Rebec thought it was down to the teasing Suri endured for being half Nord. It made her turn inward, to look to her intellect instead of social affirmation, and made her always check her behavior to do what was proper, so that no one could say she wasn’t a true redguard.

Tears swam in Rebec’s eyes, and instinctively she reached for Suri’s hand.  “It’s not fair, Su. You would have been thrilled to end up in a place like this. Said Ebonarm guided us to it. Only he’s deader than you are, that's plain. You were too young to end up like this.† She sniffed and brushed the free hand over her nose. “I’ve got to go now, Suri, but I’ll be back for you. Baldur needs me now. I couldn’t save you, but maybe I can still save him. Or else we’ll all go to Sovngarde today. If that's where you ended up.â€

Rebec forced herself to get up, releasing Suri’s hand. Then she stopped. Had she just seen the girl's fingers move? She watched, ready to chalk it up to her imagination or the tears swimming in her eyes, but then it happened again. Gasping in surprise, Rebec leaned her face down in front of Suri’s mouth. A moment later, she sat up, elated, and shouted out for the healers to come. There had been a breath; very faint, but it was there.

The two healers came running in a moment later, still in their night robes. One of them began checking Suri’s neck for a pulse, while the other drew Rebec away and back to her chair. The one examining Suri looked up, and said reverently, “Lord Ebonarm has sent her back from the Far Shores. He was not yet ready to receive her service there.â€

Laughing, and crying, Rebec held on to the healer’s arm. “I knew it. I knew it couldn’t be true.â€

“She is still very ill,†the healer continued. “We must watch her carefully over the next days and practice all our arts. Masri will show you to a different room, Admiral. We need the space, and you must get your own rest. Such exertions of spirit are not good for the baby.â€

Absently Rebec asked, “What baby?†She met the healer's eyes as comprehension dawned in both of them.

“You didn’t know?  I’m sorry, it is a routine test for all female patients... But of course, it is still early days, I should have realized.†The healer fell silent then. The Nord woman's husband was missing, so what would normally be happy news would likely be a shock.

Too much was happening at once, and Rebec’s head was spinning.  She couldn't take it all in, and went along docile as a child as the healer led her off to a different room. Crossing the foyer above the entrance hall, she saw the great doors being opened. A cluster of desert warriors entered. The man she had seen that night, the Ansei, approached and talked to them. When he turned and noticed Rebec, he nodded greeting and came up the stairs to meet her. Briefly the healer told him about Suri’s recovery.

Asafu’s thin eyebrows raised, though he did not seem all that surprised. “A welcome development. I’m afraid I don’t have any other good news, Admiral. The patrol we sent out last night found no trace of the rest of your party or of the harpies. We aren't giving up, however.  Another patrol will leave momentarily.â€

“I’m going with them.† Rebec spoke automatically, and after she had said it, she paused. With what she had just learned, caution dictated that she should stay behind and let others do the searching. As soon that thought crossed her mind, however, she rejected it. If Baldur was out there, hurt and needing her help, then she would use her last breath to find him. They were in it together or not at all... all three of the Red-Snows, now.

 

The Ansei and healer made some protests, but after five minutes of arguing, they gave up and went off to get her some provisions for the search.

 

***

Baldur was trudging along through the desert with almost no energy left, having already drank all the water he had left. Of course, the Bosmer had done a good job helping with that. He was already to the point where he no longer sweated, but his wounds had started to feel somewhat better, at least, though he still couldn't move his left arm much. He needed to rest; they both did. But he couldn't, not until they found the others. He wasn't even looking in front of himself at this point. His face was covered by his hair due to his head being slouched over, as if he had to watch his feet in concentration as he walked. "Faster, Menel. We're almost there, I'm sure of it," he said monotonously, half hearing himself say it.

 

Menel eventually had gotten so tired and dehydrated that he couldn't even mumble anymore. At Baldur's words he nodded slowly. There ought to be a spell he could cast- something for stamina- but in his mind the spells swam uselessly.

 

Once he thought he saw smudges on the horizon. They looked like dancing sausages, and he laughed at that notion, which came out as a thin croak.

 

The smudges grew nearer, more distinct. They weren't dancing sausages, but people. People meant real sausages! Menel straightened, pointing triumphantly. They were saved!

 

A moment later, an arrow flew past his ear, shocking the Bosmer out of his relief. The "rescuers" were more hunters, and he and Baldur the prey.

 

Baldur didn't notice the arrow, but he didn't hear Menel's footsteps anymore. Looking up from the ground to see where he was, he finally saw what his holdup was. Between his dirty and sweat filled hair, he could see what looked to be about fifteen armed Alik'r warriors coming straight for them over the dune, two of them on horseback. At the sight, Baldur's stomach dropped so hard he thought he'd see it on the ground if he looked. Turning around to walk away as if uninterested, Baldur said, "Run."

 

While hobbling, Baldur could hear the oncoming footsteps from the approaching horsemen. When the galloping got too close, he ducked, but not quick enough. The Alik'r sword from the warrior hit him at full impact, but it missed his head and hit his shield, hitting him in the back and knocking him down face first. When the horse came back around, Baldur took his shield off and threw it at the warrior. While he was distracted, Baldur ran the harpie claw across the horse's side, causing it to rear up and knock the warrior off of its back.

 

The horse ran off, bleeding and startled. But the Alik'r warrior was up on his feet, ready to take out the insolent Nord. Baldur hobbled over to him with the bloodied talons in hand, but it was clear to the warrior he was easy pickings. The general on approach even stumbled as he came near him. The warrior swung his sword around left and right in a skillful display, then charged his easy future kill. But to his dismay, when he struck at the man, he quickly side pivoted around the swing, and before he could recover, Baldur buried the talons in his throat, and ripped the soft flesh from it, leaving him gurgling his blood face first in the sand.

 

"Oh no, no, no." Menel's dread rooted him in place. Would this desert never be done with them?  For some reason he heard Veleda Fire-Hand's voice in his mind then, how she had forbidden him to die when searing cold took his fingers and will to live both, during their trial to join the Stormcloaks. If Fire-Hand were here, she would berate him mercilessly for giving up because of a bunch of smelly redguard.

 

"You bastards!" The Bosmer tried to yell but his voice was too dry for sound to come out. So he let loose with the first spell that came to mind, hoping it wasn't Charm or something equally useless.

 

It was a fury spell. Those worked best when the target didn't see where it came from and was left with only its allies to turn on. As it was, only two of the redguard stopped to fight each other. The others came on, charging Menel, now angrier than ever.

 

Oh shit. Reaching quickly for something else in his repertoire, Menel cast a chain lightning spell that stopped both redguard in their tracks, paralyzed and shaking with electric shock.

 

Meanwhile the Bosmer had fallen to one knee. He was spent. Out of mana, out of energy, out of time. Dimly he heard shouting and thought that must be the Nord. Menel had gotten used to the idea that he would die next to Nords, but he hadn't expected it to be in the middle of a desert.  Turning his head, the Bosmer looked blearily as more warriors rushed them. This was really the end, then. He would die a warrior after all.  Hope you're happy, Fire-Hand. You really got me into it now.

 

Baldur couldn't believe his luck. He and Menel escaped the clutches of harpies, survived falling from the sky, being wounded, dehydrated and exhausted, only to be taken down by more Alik'r warriors later. Baldur remembered how lucky he felt with Rebec not to long ago, and how she told him he thought he was too good to be true. He always remembered stories about Sai taking something away if one was blessed with too much luck. Perhaps that's what the gods were doing now. And now he'd never be able to see his wife again, until she came to Sovngarde.

 

Hopefully still his. And it would be long before he ever saw Boldir again, being a family man now. Although he was glad that the Nord would live a long happy life with a wife and child, unlike him. Angry and feeling betrayed by the ones he so revered, Baldur lost his senses at that moment, and ran straight at the oncoming soldiers with the bloodied talon in hand, no longer caring that he was outnumbered, now that death was assured. He'd have tears in his eyes if he wasn't too dehydrated to shed them.

 

***

 

Rebec's patrol heard the sound of battle before they saw it. She recognized Baldur immediately as one of the two figures the attackers were bearing down on- his shield gave him away, even if his sweat-soaked hair looked as dark as hers.

 

She spurred her horse and hung on as the little desert mount cleared a valley and came down on the next dune, scrambling a little to find its footing before dashing on with breath-taking speed. The Ebonarm devotees were nearly as fleet, and a good thing, since after seeing two of their men be hewn down by this new rider, the rest of the Alik'r turned to mass her, pulling her down from the horse.

 

The admiral disappeared into their midst, but after a moment, one of the desert warriors went flying- on the end of Rebec's boot. She came upright and turned, Kyne's Talon already blooded, flashing in an arc towards the rest of her attackers. Most of them were able to jump back in time, but one caught a swipe across an arm and his chest that hurt him though not fatally.

 

"Baldur! Baldur, are you alright?" she shouted. "A little help here, yes?!"

 

He thought he was imagining her at first, but when the other Alik'r didn't attack him and instead faced their enemy, Baldur ran over, his adrenaline making him ignore his pained leg, and was quickly at her back. Baldur ran over and side stepped a weak sword thrust before sticking the talons into the Redguard's eyes that Rebec injured, then he picked up his sword, ready to defend her with his last breath. The Ebonarm men reached them by now and fended off the attackers by Menel, cutting them down before they overran him. The last of the attackers fought desperately to not fail again in their attempt to kill the Nords, but they had long lost their chance for that.

 

Baldur and Rebec rotated clockwise back to back, cutting down anyone that got too close. It wasn't long before the ambush was thoroughly countered, and two of the last ambushers decided to try and route. As he was running away, Baldur borrowed Rebec's ebony axe and chucked it furiously at the back of the Alik'r's leg, causing him to collapse, injured but not dead. "Don't kill that one!" Baldur said as an Ebonarm follower charged after the pair on horseback. It wasn't long before he trotted past the downed man, and decapitated the other that almost got away. Exhausted physically as well as mentally from near death, Baldur finally collapsed to the ground, albeit with a slight smile on his face, daring to think it was finally over.

 

Still in battle stance, Rebec swiveled back and forth, her axe held ready. There were no more attackers, however. Then she turned and saw Baldur's little smile. Laughing and crying again for the second time that morning, she fell to her knees in front of him and took his face in her hands, kissing him. Pulling back, she said, "You smell like harpy, my love." Then she laughed and kissed him again. He smelled worse than harpy, actually, but it was still the sweetest stench.

 

Baldur started laughing between kisses and smiled mischievously, wondering if he should tell her how he had to bite one of the thing's neck. But he decided against it, figuring he'd have a good laugh about it later. Leaning forward, Baldur fought his weakened state to hold Rebec as tightly as he could, as if more harpies could come and take him away all over again. In her ear, he whispered and said, "Rebec...there's something I want to say to you so badly right now."

 

She closed her eyes and held him tightly in return. Whatever happened next, they had a few more minutes together. "I'm a captive audience," she said at his ear, refusing to let him go even to see his face.

 

Smiling, he simply said, "Water," laughing a little afterwards. That got her to let go and she stood, laughing, and retrieved her skin from the horse's saddle. Across the saddle she saw several redguard trying to get Menel up. He had fallen face-first and lay there like a lump, though he didn't appear dead.

 

Returning, Rebec handed Baldur the water and helped hold the skin for him as he drank.

 

He coughed a little from drinking too fast, but he recovered easily and drank his fill. Now that he had some liquids in him and he wasn't threatened with death, he noticed all the tears and breaks in Rebec's armor, but she seemed to be fine. He figured she found a healer. He put his arms around her again and rested his forehead against hers, taking in the blue of her eyes for a moment before speaking. "How are you? Where's Kematu and the other men? And Suri?"

 

She was too emotional to speak at first, but finally said, "There's a monastery near here. Followers of Ebonarm. Suri... I think she'll live now, but it was a close thing. We had split up, Falgrum going with Kematu to the oasis, Suri and I with some of the others and the guides to look for you. Got attacked by these... things, I don't know. Come on. I can tell you the rest later, after we're safe and you've had some food and rest." She stood and reached for Baldur's arm to help him.

 

Baldur was all too happy to accept her help, long abandoning being stoic around her. Seeing her come to his rescue reminded him on Boldir's words in Whiterun on how she was stronger than he thought, and how he underestimated her. He didn't think he did, but he realized all the worrying he did for her life in battle was doing just that. He always said she was his equal, but maybe before he didn't believe it as much as he should. It was very apparent now though, which brought him great comfort, although he'd always worry about her regardless.

 

Hearing about Suri being close to death alarmed him, but she was apparently fine now. Everything was fine except the business with Kematu. But that could wait. Falgrum could handle things for a while. His whole attitude currently was docile like that and it hadn't changed by the time they got to the monastery, except when it was time to see Suri, and the healers insisted she still needed to be left alone. "What exactly happened anyway?"

 

Rebec gently but firmly moved the healer aside, just so they could look in and see Suri. She was still far too pale, and hadn't woken up yet, but even from the doorway, Rebec could see her chest rising and falling in short, labored breaths. That was much better than nothing. "It was a manticore," she answered, whispering. "I guess that's what it called in Tamrielic. Half lion, half scorpion, with some snake in there somewhere- and huge buggers. There were sand wraiths, too, and when we were fighting one of those, that's when the manticore stung Suri. The poison almost did for her."

 

Baldur remembered a sketch from the bestiary, and would have asked if she was joking if his niece wasn't so near death. He swallowed hard, thinking on what Vilnur and Raesa would say. "Damnit, that wouldn't have happened if I...nevermind. It couldn't be helped. I don't know what I'd do if she died. How do you tell someone their child..." Baldur stopped again for the second time, remembering the sore subject with Rebec. "I sure hope Falgrum can get the others at the oasis to wait. We're not leaving this place until I know Suri will recover for sure. But when we do leave, Kematu's rebel leader will pay dearly." Baldur walked off from Suri's room and took a seat at a table, trying to put these worries out of his mind, at least for today. He waited for Rebec to follow, and signaled for her to sit in his lap.

 

Rebec followed, though after a hesitation during which she thought about her secret. It still didn't seem real, and maybe the healers didn't know what they were talking about anyway. It had happened so fast, before they'd even had their "honeymoon," though since they got started pretty early anyway...

 

It was better to wait until she knew for sure to tell Baldur, Rebec decided as she walked over to him and took her place on his lap. "So what happened with the bird things? I take it this one didn't want to marry you." She grinned a little.

 

He sighed from the comfort of her cushion on him, then laid against her shoulder and rested his eyes. He and Menel didn't sleep at all, and it was just starting to catch up to him finally.

 

"Menel and I forced the things to land. Well, Menel landed. I crashed. I got juggled from one of them to a second one after I hit mine too hard and it fell to the ground, then I bit into the other one's neck and squeezed with my arms and legs and held on for dear life. The marriage ring was the inspiration. In short, it was a nightmare. One I'm sure I'll be revisiting in my sleep, unfortunately. Had a strange dream before all that too. A big hawk was carrying me, and a giant snake with a hole in its chest that looked like me shot venom at it and tried to eat me. At first I thought it Kyne and Shor, but I think the snake was my father trying to kill me, and you were the hawk. Basically my mind knowing you'd come for me."

 

Rebec gave a strained smile, thinking how close she had come to not finding him in time. The attendants brought a bowl of soup, so she moved aside a little to let Baldur eat. Menel arrived just then, practically being carried by two young female assistants- no doubt playing up his "injuries" for the attention. He sat across from Baldur and when soup was brought, fell on it like it was the most succulent meat.

 

The admiral glanced at him, then said to Baldur, "You bit that thing? Hope you don't get any strange diseases."

 

Menel mumbled something which was muffled by soup, and at Rebec's question he repeated, "Panacea spell. Learned it in some moldy books we found in the Grey Quarter." He paused to shovel more soup into his mouth, then added, "Might not take care of anything too strange."

 

"You need to get over to Suri's room when you're up to it," Rebec said. "She could use all the Panacea she can get. I don't think these healers have any magic."

 

The elf nodded, then concentrated on his soup. Rebec was going to leave him to it, but spoke up again. "Thank you, Menel, for helping Baldur."

 

"I washn't mush hep."

 

"Still. I'm glad he wasn't all alone." She glanced at her husband and leaned in to kiss his forehead, even filthy as it still was.

 

Baldur blushed a little from the attention and smiled with a mouthful of soup. Between eating, he said, "Menel's of course being modest. He killed some of the things while I was knocked out from the crash apparently, as I saw them heading to him before I did. And he healed my wounds a bit. I had harpy bone stuck in my arm and leg. I think the mer's earned a bit of Baldurbrau, don't you think? I could sure use some now. Menel, have one of my men bring my things. I assume you guys brought my weapons and pack?"

 

"There's no Baldurbrau here, Baldur," Rebec said, breaking the news. "We had to use speed so I sent the bakyakas on to the oasis. I've got your weapons in my things, though. It's a miracle I found them. Stuff was scattered to Oblivion and back after that storm." She hailed the attendant and asked about mead, but got a frown in reply, and when the woman came back, she had a flask of sujamma. Rebec sniffed it, recognizing the bottle from the Dunmer shops. "Well, not close enough, but this is the closest we're going to get." She poured cups for Baldur, Menel and herself.

 

Baldur finished his soup, then downed the sujamma, remember being given the drink once when walking through Windhelm. His mind was more at ease now, but it wouldn't be completely until Suri was awake. And there was one other matter as well, something he'd need to ask Menel, but now wasn't the time. He had a plan for dealing with Kematu's enemy, but it would be a lot easier to pull off if Menel could help him. "Where are they keeping the captive at? Tomorrow we need to see about interrogating him. We may be late to the meeting, but at least when we get there, we'll have more information going in."

 

Rebec brought her cup to her lips but stopped herself, and lowered it back again. A twinge of guilt about Jala flitted through her mind, but she pushed it away. Leaving the liquid untouched, she stood up and pulled on Baldur's hand. "Army talk can wait til after you've had a bath and rest. Admiral's orders. You too, Menel. We need your sparklefingers rested and ready."

 

Baldur didn't complain, he was too tired to anyway. Before he got up though, he took Rebec's cup and downed it, since she didn't drink it herself. He didn't think it odd; after all, it wasn't mead. He could use a bath, though he wished he could take a real bath and not a sand one. When he hobbled over, he said, "What are we going to do with Suri when she wakes up? Pretend like she didn't just almost get killed and not tell your brother?"

 

"Let's take first things first," Rebec answered. "Vilnur knew the risks and so did Suri. You remember what she said, about being responsible for herself."

 

There was a real bath in store for him, after all, since the monastery had a hamam. When they were done, one of the healers came and checked their wounds again and gave them potions. One of these was to help them sleep, so sleep they did. It was well past dawn the next day before either of them woke up.

 

When they went to Suri's room, they found a welcome sight. She was still in bed and her breaths were shallow, but her eyes were open. The healers told Rebec and Baldur sternly that they were to only stay with her a few minutes.

 

She sounded almost guilty as she said, her voice practically a whisper, "I'm sorry, Uncle, that I wasn't more help in finding you. I'm glad to see you're alright."

 

"From the sound of things, your distraction probably saved your aunt's life, so you did plenty. And look where you ended up, with followers of Ebon Arm. So everything turned out just fine, Suri. It's a good thing Ra Gada aren't fragile." Baldur placed his fingers along side her cheeks to test her temperature. She was rather clammy, but she looked better than before. "You may need to stay here a while, but we'll remain here until you're fit to travel again."

 

Suri gave a pained smile. "I talked with the Ansei a bit this morning. I think this is why I was supposed to accompany you. To come here."

 

From her other side, Rebec said quietly, "You aren't leaving."

 

The girl looked from her aunt back to Baldur. "I would only slow you down now, so I can't help you on your mission. After I recover... if... the Ansei said I could become an initiate."

 

Rebec spoke up again. "Hold on now. You're going to stay here- forever?"

 

Pausing, Suri replied carefully, "When you fight the Thalmor again, I will join you, if I can. By staying here, I will be a much greater aid to the cause then." Her eyes shifted to Baldur. "Please understand, Uncle. You and Aunt Rebec are the greatest warriors I know. You and Boldir and Jodun and the rest, you have shown me what it meant to be a warrior. But I have wanted to do something like this all my life."

 

"Going your own way is something Rebec and I both understand. It's just...different now that we see what it's like on the other foot. It's the second time I'll be leaving a niece behind, but it's hard to deny this place is perfect for you. I'll leave something behind for you to remember us by before we leave, okay? I'll have the Ansei place it on your bed while you sleep." Baldur gave a forced smile, then walked from the room to leave Rebec with her niece for a while. Truth was he had wanted her to stay partly, for her safety. Or at least that's what he told himself he wanted, but now that it was actually happening, it was different.

 

Rebec came out a few minutes later, fighting tears and doing a poor job of it. "Well doesn't that beat all. It seems wrong to leave her behind. She's not a kid anymore, I can't order her." It's obvious that she wished she could. Baldur played around with the idea of doing just that with Sentinel's backing, but quickly pushed the idea out of the way. If he himself could stay out of all this, he would. He tried hiding his sadness for Rebec's sake and placed a hand on her shoulder.

 

"Don't worry, you did the same thing with Vigge and you didn't leave him forever. We'll see her again. And when we do, she'll have a whole book of Ebon Arm quotes to tell us. We'll have to do this all over again ourselves some day, you know. Same conversations about safety and everything. Who knows, by the time we next see her, she'll probably be such a good swordsman, that she can split Thalmor nethers off without us seeing her draw a blade!"

 

Rebec tried to smile but it didn't carry very well. "She said she thought her work with poisons might have helped her survive the attack. Said she experimented on herself with cardiac poisons before. I don't guess I'll be telling Vilnur and Raesa that. Anyway, Menel came by this morning. Argued with the healers, belly butted one of them out of his way so he could get in to spell Suri. Sounds like he's feeling better. If you're feeling up to it, I guess we can head out today. I want to get to that oasis. Falgrum's surrounded by worse snakes than those manticores or the one in your dream."

 

"Alright, we can do that. I'll have one of my men leave Suri one of our extra Nordic Carved swords. That should make her happy, I think. We'll have to use Kematu to translate what that prisoner says." Baldur wished they could stay longer, but if they did, Kematu may assume they were dead. Baldur had to lose the armor, as it was too torn and damaged, so the Ansei gave him a simple white robe with a white kufiya and a gold colored agal. The Necro Nords that survived the attack with Rebec were about to set off when one of the Ansei came over with what Baldur thought was yet another desert monster trying to eat them. http://tamriel-rebui...ardedit_104.jpg

 

"What the hell is that, a giant argonian?" Baldur said, one hand on an axe.

 

"This is a pack lizard." said the Ansei who brought it over. "A gift. From the healers."

 

"A gift for what?" asked Baldur.

 

Asafu rested one hand on his sword hilt, and with the other gestured up towards Suri's room. "You have brought us an initiate, one touched by Lord Ebon Arm. The mantakya-kaur is rarely seen. We fear them, but that is because they are the consummate warriors. Here is one who tasted their poison and lived. By her own words she sought the lord's guidance in coming here. This visitation has been a great blessing to us all. We are often forgotten out here, few seek us out any longer, and it can be easy to despair that what we do has no meaning. You all have helped remind us of our purpose."

 

He paused, then added, "And we were not untouched by the yellow elves whose steps fouled our deserts. They do not deal in just conquest, but in trickery and deceit and foul magics. If your mission is to oppose them, then I would help you in your task."

 

Baldur nodded in recognition of what he said, then with fixated wide eyes approached the animal slowly. It regularly flickered its tongue, tasting their scents in the air, as if judging them based on that alone. The Ansei watched the Nord amusingly, and handed him the reins he used to guide the animal to them. Baldur slowly ran his hand alongside the apparently friendly and domesticated monster lizard, and the lizard blinked, seemingly puzzled by this behavior, and once again flickered its tongue, which got a taste of Baldur's cheek. Whether it actually meant to or not wasn't clear, though in Baldur's poetic mind, it did. At that moment, the Nord was instantly hooked.

 

Asafu chuckled to himself, then said, "You'll want to give it a mark so others know it is owned. We have brands that w-"

 

"No brands!" Baldur yelled. "Sorry, I've had my own experience with that. You, Arnbjorn. Bring me my pack," Baldur said to a Necro Nord. The soldier brought his things over along with his axes, then Baldur took out his face paint container, then carefully applied the swirl mark he wore himself onto the beast's cheek, and trailing off to its neck with another secondary swirl. "Rebec, come over here!"

 

Rebec could respect what the priest had said, even if half of it sounded like mumbo jumbo, but she wasn't happy at all about having an unpredictable desert beast in their camp. The bakyakas were bad enough. Reluctantly she approached, whispering to Baldur, "We got to take it with us or offend the guy, but we're selling this thing once we get to the oasis."

 

"What? No way!" Baldur looked around and smiled at the Ansei, and then whispered to Rebec, saying, "This thing is amazing, Rebec! He seems well mannered enough, look how he took to us. I'm naming him Fafnir," said Baldur.

 

"Faf is right. Faffing around with shady creatures is apparently your favorite pasttime."

 

Behind them the Ansei asked, "Is there a problem?"

 

Rebec turned and lifted a hand. "No, no. It's a lovely... lizard. Thank you, Ansei. We'll gather our things and be on our way while we still have daylight."

 

Menel appeared then, looking rosy-cheeked but in bad temper. Being bathed by redguard women had its charms, and going out into the desert again did not. He brightened when he saw Rebec retrieve something from the packs.  "My staff! Oh, how I have missed you darling." He kissed the scruffy, rune-engraved piece of wood. "Have I told you about how I took this off a fryse hag?"

 

"Half a dozen times by my count," Rebec replied. "Load your pack on the lizard and let's get a move on."

 

"Heh, you're one to talk, troll wrangler. Vigge told me all about that. Hand it here, Menel. I could use something to lay my back on while I ride on Fafnir," Baldur said while petting their new companion. "Come on, Rebec. There's plenty of room on this big boy."

 

"Ohhh no. I'll take one of those desert ponies or nothing."

 

Baldur sighed, then crossed his arms. "Rebec, I let you drag me through the sea on a piece of wood that made me sick for the majority of the trip. You can sit on a lizard. This is our honeymoon, and yet the only thing we've managed to do is get poked and prodded, sliced and diced, chewed and finally spit out by this damn desert. Relax and just go with it; it'll be fun!"

 

"Guilt, now, is that it?" Rebec regarded him skeptically, though she had a little smile she was trying to hide. "Fine. But if that thing pitches us off into a ravine, I'm cursing you out but good on the way down."

 

Baldur noticed the smile regardless, then ceased his pouting. Now looking as giddy as a child, he turned back and regarded Fafnir, wondering how he'd get on. Happy that the Nords seemed to like their gift, the Ansei while the two were talking already came over with a leather saddle like seat with a back rest, which they attached onto Fafnir's back. After it was secure, the one that brought it over said, "Rub your hand over his nose and say 'TANG!' Then turn around. It means help."

 

Baldur looked puzzled, but did as he was told. When he rubbed the nose and repeated the word, Fafnir dipped his head and lifted Baldur up between his legs, causing him to roll over its head and land perfectly in place against the seat. "Well, that's certainly new. Your turn Rebec. Like I said, fun, hehe."

 

Rebec's eyes widened at this method of mounting. Grumbling all the while, she hesitantly followed suit, and was pitched  straight into Baldur's lap, laughing in spite of herself.

 

Baldur caught her with his hands around her waist, and immediately grinned from his cozy spot between the seat and her. The Ansei threw Rebec the reins, then Baldur thanked them again for the gift. Baldur slapped the side of the lizard to get him going in the direction of the oasis, with the Ra Gada guides in the front, and the Necro Nords trailing behind. Nuzzling her, he said, "See? More cozy then being on horseback right? You can fall asleep up here. Which I definitely plan on doing."

 

Rebec grumbled something non-committal and kept casting nervous glances at the ground, as if expecting to be pitched off or rolled on at any moment. The surviving Nords and redguard guides were joined by a few of the Ebonarm initiates, who were being sent to help guard them and to observe the meeting.

 

As the caravan moved out into the desert, Rebec looked back towards the monastery, wistful about leaving her niece behind.

 

Baldur was hoping this would cheer Rebec up about Suri, but he knew it wasn't to be. He just avoided death, so he wanted to enjoy things from then on before it was time to deal with more Ra Gada, but with Suri being gone, it was hard to, her presence being hard not to notice missing. Sighing from being depressed about Suri and a little disappointed Rebec didn't enjoy Fafnir as much as he did, he sat back in the seat and closed his eyes to try and sleep.

 

At Baldur's sigh, Rebec looked back and saw him settled into the saddle with his eyes closed. She studied his face, worried that his injuries might have taken more out of him than she had thought, and that they were pushing things too much. But on the other hand, she wanted nothing more than to be out of this desert and headed back home, and knew he felt the same.

 

Settling down into the saddle, she put her head on his shoulder and closed her own eyes. At first she felt restless, and kept opening her eyes to scan the horizon. The lizard's swaying gait was calming, however, like a cradle, and so was the sensation of having Baldur near. Soon she fell into a light, alert doze, the way she slept while at sea.

 

At one point, one of the Ebonarm initiates called up to her, and pointed towards something on the saddle, a carved button. Cautiously Rebec pushed it, and a fabric canopy came out of the saddle and settled over them, shading out the brutal sun. Now this, this she could get used to.

 

Baldur stirred a little, enough to notice that the heat was no longer beating down on him as intensely before. Opening an eye more fully now, Baldur smirked and said, "No way, this is great! Wish we had this on our way into Alik'r. This is how diplomats should travel."

 

The initiate smirked after hearing that, knowing this was probably all more than either of them expected. What Asafu had said was true, but what he didn't say was the healers insisted the Nord woman travel comfortably due to her pregnancy. They also insisted they not tell the husband, believing that to be a woman's prerogative.

 

Baldur was put in a better mood from the shade, although he felt a little bad about his men, but that didn't last long. Whispering, he said, "I'm sorry about Suri. If you want, we can always come back after this business in the oasis is done. We don't have to go off to the Crowns immediately after, and I was thinking we'd take a break anyway first."

 

"Well, maybe. She might take that as us checking up on her, though. Suri is a strong girl. What most worries me is that I'll have to tell her parents how ill she was- still is, really. I can't imagine how hard that would be, to let a child go like that, knowing they're off in the world somewhere." Rebec reflexively put an arm over her stomach, though she was trying not think about the baby. Looking to cheer them both up, she said, "Now all we need is someone to come up here and fan us. Maybe Menel can do it."

 

Baldur smiled and placed an arm around her again, then said, "I bet if we offered him some sausages, he would. Only, if things get any more luxurious, we'll have to start drinking milk. And so what if we're checking on her? We're her family. She'll have years to be on her own now, so she'll get over it. Who knows, maybe she'll want us to. Tell you what, we'll take that break anyway, but we'll visit her after we're done, to give her some time on her own. That way we can at least see if she got better for her parents."

 

"I guess we can do that. I'm not looking forward to coming back to this desert, but with the lizard..." Obviously Rebec had warmed up to the idea of having Fafnir along, after all.

 

Baldur chuckled at that, and said, "So you do like him?"

 

"He's useful. If a strange beast can make himself useful, I've got nothing against it, I suppose. Same for elves."

 

As if on cue, Menel appeared by the side of their mount, looking up longingly at the shaded dais.  Noticing him, Rebec grinned and said, "Come on then, wizard. But you got to get on him the same way we did."

 

The negotiation between the lizard and its plump new passenger was delicate, but the up-ending onto its back was anything but. Menel crashed into Rebec, who crashed into Baldur, and they were all there in a heap until they managed to untangle themselves. It then took a little while for them to get comfortable again, and Rebec had a fit when Menel started stripping down to bare feet.

 

Still, smelly feet were far from the worst they had endured in the Alik'r, and the only trial they suffered on their first travel day out of the monastery. In the desert, "uneventful" was a very good thing.

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Dales Motierre

Imperial Palace

Night

 

Dales sat in her desk, along. It was far past the eve of Twilight, and the darkness crept around her, with only small candlelight to light the way. She was writing in her log book, recording the events of the day. She had a particularly heated discussion with the merchant guild on taxes, so she was looking forward to the abyss of sleep. She half heartily glanced at her undone bed, which covers were messily laid about. A small tinge of Nostalgia hit her inside, as she imagined not just two months ago, Miku cuddled up in the bedcovers, snoring loudly, She always looked so cute while she dreamnt.

 

Nothing but phantom pain now.

 

A wiry Breton, a peasant but incredibly comfortable in a fancy setting such as a palace, walked briskly through the hall that ended in Dales' room. A single spoken word, "Messenger," revealed his purpose to visit such a grand place. The guards on either side frisked him over, then allowed him admittance to the Empress' personal chambers.

 

"Empress, I have a message from King Theodore Adrard of High Rock, marked with the utmost urgency."

 

"Your majesty." She said correcting him with a slightly cold, yet polite voice. Her eyes looked over to him worry, unknown to the man, Dales readied the hidden black steel dagger in her dress.

 

"From King Theodore? I heard that he ascended to the throne quite recently, I trust the coronation went smoothly?"

 

"Apologies, we couriers are usually in a hurry, going from one delivery to the next. I tend to forget my manners, ma'am, er, your majesty. As for the coronation, last I 'eard he executed his brother-in-law before gettin' the crown, so I suppose that's smooth. Although, supposedly the wife of the King-for-a-day escaped. Sorry again, that's just what people have taken to calling Aleron Rolston, who King Theo executed," the Breton man rambled a bit, but nevertheless he managed to get out his point.

 

She got out of her chair, and gently moved to the pitcher of water near her bedside, "Very good. May I offer you some refreshments, must have been a tough road."

 

"I would take kindly to some of that water, Empress, but I doubt I can stay long, a courier's life is spent on the road," the man said with a smile.

 

She gently poured a glass for the courier, and handed it to him. She asked him , "May I have the letter?"

 

He blushed visibly, accepting the glass in exchange for the letter.

 

"Sorry again your majesty, I thought I already delivered it."

 

Dales opened the sealed document, and quickly read it in her head.

 

Dear Empress Dales,

 

How go things back in the Imperial capital? I have good news from High Rock, and also some sad news. Unfortunately, my wife's father passed away, and my wife's sister's husband took the throne. He then attempted to assassinate me, with poison, and a hearing found him guilty. I was forced to execute him, but now I've take the throne.

 

It seems all will not end well, however. My wife's sister escaped, and is probably recruiting the noble families loyal to her, with a plan to put her on the throne. I've called my allies, and we will soon depart to crush this rebellion, and hopefully unite High Rock not only under my rule, but under the Empire's as well. It is because of that point I ask you permission to utilize the Imperial troops stationed here. Though they aren't numerous, their professional and orderly manner of conducting war will be essential to turning the tide.

 

I've heard a few troubling things from Cyrodiil, most notably the execution of General Tullius, in part because of a rebellion. A sad day, but I think you have a very capable replacement in General Ceno, or whoever you choose for that matter. I also heard you are due to be married to your court mage, and I congratulate you both and wish you a happy marriage. Please do not think that I am angry, or that I feel slighted by your not choosing my son. I understand the politics behind it, and know this to be the best and most reasonable choice.

 

I wish you a happy marriage, and I hope that you can steer the Empire towards prosperous days. Please remember my request, and consider it with due diligence. I also would appreciate a quick reply, as I will send this with the utmost haste.

 

Sincerely,

 

King Theodore Adrard

 

Wasting no time, Dales drew a page of parchment and began to hastily scribble on it,

 

Your Majesty Theodore Adrard,

 

I will waste no time with pleasantries. You have my full support. Show my seal to the legionary officer in-charge, and you'll have full access to the imperial legion forces stationed in High Rock, along with any resources I can allocate. Crush these rebel scum in the name of the Dragon, King Adrard.

 

Your Empress Dales Motierre,

 

She decided to add some humor to the letter, King Theodore seemed like a man who appreciated it. She added,

 

PS. when I visit you next time, make sure you have a selection of maids and maidens for me to browse, I hear there's some mighty fine ladies in High Rock.

 

She rolled up the parchment, and sealed it with a golden dragon wax seal. She handed the letter to the messenger, and told him, with a cold voice,

 

"Take your time before leaving, if you want anything to eat, just go to the pantry, i'm sure the servants would fix you up some food."

 

"Much obliged Empress. I may grab some salted meats for the road, those always travel well. G'day to you, your majesty," the courier bowed as he left, then swiveled on his heel and walked quickly through the door.

 

Dales let out a sigh. At least three more hours of work before sleep. She sat back down on her desk, and worked into the night.

 

**

 

Theodore Adrard

Camlorn

Mid morning, several days later

 

The newly crowned king of High Rock sat at the same desk he'd used as a lowly lord, scanning over his letters. Ones meant to be sent sat on the left, ones incoming on the right. The most prominent of the outgoing were letters to High King Ulfric Stormcloak, Governor Jeleen of Sentinel, one addressed to the Crowns leader as well, and one destined for the ash wastes of Morrowind. All held roughly the same message, with a few tweaks to personalize them, that King Theodore was now in charge in High Rock, and he planned to stay that way.

 

In his hands was the brief message from Empress Dales, his pudgy fingers twiddling the golden Dragon seal before using a small blade to pop the wax. The contents were incredibly light on details, all business and no play.

 

Hmph, seems our Empress is a little busy to trade pleasantries with the fat Breton. No matter. Hehe, the part about the maids is light hearted, but disturbing as well. Time to call upon the Legion it seems, then off to war!

 

The fleeting foray into thought aside, Theodore penned a quick letter addressed to Legate Montrose, explaining that his request for Imperial aid had been a resounding success. The king slid the wax seal inside the envelope as well, ensuring the authenticity of his words. Passing it off to a messenger, the letter was gone in a heartbeat. All that was needed now was patience, which Theodore was thankfully blessed with.

 

Message sent, the King of High Rock waddled his way down the Castle Camlorn's lavishly decorated hallways, passing by rows of tapestries depicting countless battles, weddings, beddings, and funerals, all of some significance to the city of Camlorn.

 

Several showed House Adrard's rise to power, Theodore's five greats-grandfather being the first Adrard to sit the cities throne. He had come by it not using patience, but by usurpation, using his army of peasants and common folk fed up with the previous Lord's rule to overthrow him. The Baron Theoden Adrard became Lord, and so began the line. The bull emblem gracing countless castle banners had also been his invention, as his men called him the Bull-Headed Baron for his fondness of wearing a helmet set with a pair of bull's horns. Theodore still had that helmet, keeping it refurbished and occasionally wearing it for commemorative occasions.

 

The hallways eventually twisted and turned until Theodore arrived at his destination, the war room of the castle. Inside his son leaned against the back wall, knowing his place was not in the center of discussion. Already huddled around the table, eyes squinted and backs hunched, were Captain Alix Vette, Theodore's guard captain, Lord Derric Estermont of Shornhelm, and four dukes.

 

One stood taller than the others, equal height to the giant that was Estermont. He was Duke Jhared Mon, more politician than fighter. His money laundering was well known, and he bore his families insignia of a white owl on a green field. His gray hair slid neatly across his balding head in combover fashion, a rather unsettlingly sight for the older man.

 

Next to him was Alix's older brother, one of three, of which Alix was the youngest. Duke Edwistyr Vette wore his emblem, a mottled feather falling towards the ground, which was appropriate as he and his men were regarded as the best shots in High Rock. His hands calloused from bow work, his black shaggy hair and sharp features matched Theodore's guard captain's perfectly.

 

Across the table from Vette and Mon were Dukes Paul Gondwyn and Irbran Theirry. Gondwyn was a stark contrast to the peregrine sigil on his vest, one that was almost totally covered by the monstrosity that was his beard. Braided as it was, even accented with golden bands, the stocky, short man still had the chocolate brown bush rather unkempt. Known as the Dwarf of the South, more on stature than on any likeness to the Dwemer, he owned that title, wearing it as a badge of honor. "If ya don't let it bother ya, than it only drives them crazier," he always said, usually added with a hearty, booming roll of laughter.

 

Duke Irbran Theirry was the youngest man in the room, barely more than a pre-teen. His blonde hair was perfectly fixed, and his face fair as a maiden. He was a stranger to battle, but it would slight his family, renowned sailors boasting a sinking ship emblem, so he was allowed to meet in the war room.

 

Edwistyr Vette and Irbran Theirry both swore fealty to Camlorn, while Paul Gondwyn and Jhared Mon kneeled to Daggerfall. Lord Estermont's men had traveled onward, attempting to bolster their forces in anticipation of the upcoming war. It was that war that brought Theo into this room, and he took his place at the head of the map filled table. The chair groaned from his size as he sat, but no one commented and they pretended not to notice.

 

"King Theodore," they said in unison, with the young Theirry's voice cracking as teenage boy's voices was like to do.

 

"Gentlemen. What information have you, Lord Estermont?" Theodore asked the most experienced war leader in the room. His land bordering the Wrothgarians, he constantly fell under the threat of roving Orcish bandits, and this was more experienced than anyone else in the room as battles and war.

 

"It would seem that Wayrest has bowed to Evermor, along with Jehanna. Farrun is loyal to you, but extremely isolated. Some factions of Evermor, such as Baron Farr, are loyal to you, but they have little hope of showing outward resistance, lest they be completely wiped out," Derric Estermont spoke confidently when it came to war, breaking off his speech to take a swig of malt beer that left traces of foam in his medium length black an gray beard.

 

"What of Northpoint? Any news from them?" Edwistyr Vette asked, fingering the family ring on his hand as he did.

 

"Nothin' I heard. Last I knew they seemed like to remain neutral. Bugger them I say. They'll come around once we whoop the traitors," Paul Gondwyn said, voice deep and loud.

 

"No. Northpoint joining our cause adds the legitimacy that will persuade some minor nobles to loose themselves from the she witch Lielle's grasp. As of now, the table is evenly set, and I'm sure she's calling herself queen and asking for help. So, if we can take the line neutral piece, it'll all but ensure our victory," Theodore spoke in a commanding tone, asserting his dominance per the men. None of them minded, even as independent as Lord Estermont was the concession made to him and his honorably nature were enough to keep him truly loyal. All Theodore had had to do was promise him a commanding role in the upcoming conflict against Lielle Rolston and the Thalmor and he came over quite easily. Things would get much trickier when bartering with The Lord of Northpoint however.

 

"Next order of business, what plan have you drawn up?" the king asked.

 

"Two prongs of attack. One will march south to besiege Wayrest, while the other sails north to assist Farrun," Estermont said, tracing the large with his fingers on the map.

 

"Let me add to that," Theo said, smiling a sly smile. "You, Derric, will take a force of green boys and old men through the mountains. Their scouts will catch wind no doubt, and seeing as you are the obvious choice to command will think that the main force. We will keep the northern assistance to Farrun the same, although that relies on more Northpoint help than I'd like. The southern assault will change. I think that once they figure out that you are coming, they'll be blind to another sea born attack from Daggerfall. Their armies will have left Wayrest defenseless, and open to us for the taking."

 

Lord Estermont smiled a wide grin, shaking his head in mocking fashion. "This might actually work, as I'm the only one crazy enough to do it. So it seems settled, one fleet sail north from Camlorn, one south from Daggerfall, and a third marches through the mountains."

 

"I'll have to treat with Northpoint for this to work, so I leave on the morrow. Duke Mon, what is the financial situation? And have my ships from Leland arrived?" Theodore asked the hunched, older man.

 

"I've received word that the major shipping companies will provide us with provisions, which are already on their way. As for your ships, they arrived an hour or so ago, crewed by the men you left," Jhared Mon said, rubbing his hands together a he spoke.

 

"Good, we'll have them sail for Farrun, while my ships will sail south to meet the Daggerfall fleet. I plan to sail with my men to Wayrest, along with Duke Mon and Gondwyn's men, while you, Estermont, will take and split your force between the Farrun fleet and the mountain force. When Northpoint joins, they'll sail for Farrun as well. Now, take and send out orders for the men to prepare to leave upon my return from Northpoint. I want us at full battle readiness as soon as Northpoint agrees to join us," Theodore ordered his noblemen, the leaving as they began to pen orders to their troops.

 

The king meanwhile went straight for his room, where his son and wife were waiting with supper on the table.

 

"Everything settled?" Elayne Adrard asked, beginning to help herself to the food.

 

"Yes, the war plan is in place while I have received permission to utilize the legion forces. They'll never know what hit them, when all is said and done," Theo responded with a smile.

 

"Well, I'm glad that all straightened out. Wouldn't want to have to do things the hard way. You'll be happy to hear that I'm late," Elayne said without missing a beat.

 

Both Theodore and Roland began coughing, as if they were chocking on food from the lack of subtly the mom/wife had used. Theo coughed a little longer, finally whiling away the dribble on his lips.

 

Roland, who'd waited on his father to stop coughing before speaking, said, "Gods mother, you just enjoy ruining dinner don't you? And now I have to deal with a little sibling running amok."

 

"Don't be rude Roland, this is great news, if a little ill timed. This is what we'd been trying for after all, and I'm glad to see my seed is still strong as ever, harhar!" Theodore said, deciding to increase his sons level of discomfort.

 

"Shut up!" Roland yelled out, putting his hands over his ears. "I'd rather not hear about your sex life while I eat."

 

"Oh please, it's not like we don't hear about yours all the time," Elayne said slyly. "Half the maids and serving girls in this castle believe you're going to make them a very pretty Lady someday. Leading them on like that isn't very nice."

 

"It's not my fault they think they can rise above their station just because I allow them to share my bed," Roland started eating again, glad the topic was his night life and not his parents.

 

"You'll be happy to hear, Roland, that we decided to let you join the war. Wasn't too hard to convince your mother, even as protective as she is. I was thinking you could sail to Farrun, accompanying Duke Vette and his men. I want someone I trust watching the Northpoint men in case something happens, and sending both of you and some of Estermont's men will ensure they'll match up with at least even number if they betray us. Which, I doubt they will. Also, you may want to have your armor shined, as I suspect a wedding is in your future," Theodore said, enjoying himself as it was his wife's turn to be surprised.

 

"Excuse me, what do you mean, honey?" she asked, the word 'honey' sounding almost venomous.

 

"Dear, he is almost 18, and if we wait any longer he'll never marry. I also believe that will be a concession Northpoint will be adamant about, some kind of marriage to seal our alliance. Frankly, it isn't a bad idea, but I thought you had better know before Roland and I left tomorrow," Theodore said calmly, while devouring his food decidedly not calmly.

 

"Fine. But that doesn't mean I have to like the harlot," Elayne spat out.

 

"You haven't even met the poor girl yet and you already hate her. This will make family gatherings awful," Roland said, all game for the idea. He longed for a companion, which is why he filled that void with numerous amounts of maids. "Although, I can think of a dozen or so people who may be jealous."

 

"Right you are, we'll have to keep a sharp eye out for poisonous soup," Theo said with a chuckle.

 

They family finished their dinner, then ran off to bed in anticipation of the long ride ahead of two of its members.

 
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Aerin (BT), Boldir, Carlotta, Mila
Riften
Midday

Aerin stood with Carlotta, across the market inspecting a clothes stand. The garments were poorly made, scratchy wool and cheap cotton that would fall apart just from one wash, but there was little else to look at in the town. Jewelry sure, but the prices were exorbitant. There were weapons, but Carlotta had little use for them and Aerin liked his shortsword perfectly fine. So, they tried not to look too disgusted when viewing the thick woolen sweater the toothless, archaic Nordic man sold, while his wife sat behind him knitting more. The colors were nice, a deep red and sharp green, but they were much too flamboyant for the sibling's liking.

Aerin was about to politely decline the man's insistence he try the shirt on, when he noticed Boldir almost violently pull Mila aside. He couldn't blame the man, even with as cute as Mila was she could still be a brat, but the way he scolded her had Aerin perplexed, to say the least. He turned to his sister, accidentally ignoring the old peddler which caused his wife to mumble something about 'ungrateful foreigners'. "Carlotta, what is that about?"

Carlotta shrugged. "I don't know." It was true that she didn't, but she had a good idea of what must have happened. There wasn't much Mila would do that could set Boldir off like that. Only one thing really came to mind.

Mila's right arm felt like it was going numb after only seconds of being squeezed by Boldir's large hand. "What is it?!" she cried out, as he pulled her out of the market throngs and beside the wooden railing above the canal. She could see from his angry look that she had done something bad, but could not for the life of her tell what it was.

"What have I told you repeatedly since we got here?" He sounded even angrier than he looked. Despite not knowing what she'd done, Mila already felt ashamed. Boldir rarely got mad at her, and usually didn't get this mad when he did. She must have done something really bad.

"Uhh..." Mila racked her brain. He'd told her not to stray on several occasions, but she hadn't. He was right behind her when she began talking to friendly blacksmith, Balimund, about a pretty white coat of armor that he called 'mithril'. It had caught her eye and she'd asked him about it. That was all. "I don't know," she said. It embarrassed her that she could feel a little water in her eyes. "I really don't."

Boldir took a slow breath, and eased his grip on her arm. "Gods Mila, I know I've said this many times. Do NOT give our names to strangers!"

"I-" Mila paused. That's it? She had expected something worse. Back in Whiterun, everyone knew their names, and half of Riften's merchants knew them by their looks by now. Mila didn't even think of Balimund as a stranger anymore. He'd seen and spoken to them many days these past few weeks. "I didn't think he was a stranger," she said meekly.

"Everyone not from home is a stranger." he responded quickly. "Other than me, your mother, your uncle Aerin, and... I suppose Vex as well. No one else needs to know who we are."

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "I just didn't think about it. It didn't seem too important."

"It is the most important rule we have. This is not a safe place. People will take advantage of us the moment they get the chance."
Balimund didn't seem to Mila like the type to take advantage of anyone, except perhaps to squeeze a few more coins out of them than his products were really worth. Her expression must have given this away, because Boldir continued. "There are other blacksmiths in the city, but Balimund is the best. It is the wealthy who buy from him. Did you know that he forges for the Jarl's family, as well as the Black-Briars?"

She'd heard the name 'Black-Briar' periodically over the last month, but never got a full explanation as to who they were. All she knew was that they were rich, and most people didn't seem to like them. "Why would he tell them our names?" she asked. "And why would they care anyway? We didn't do anything to them."

Boldir sighed. "You don't have to here. You haven't seen much of it, but this is not a nice city. Not like Whiterun. There are people who could and would do a lot with our names." His frown faded, and he patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry I had to get stern with you. It won't happen again, will it?"

"No." She rubbed her stinging eyes, still a little angry that she'd let herself tear up over this.

"Good girl." Boldir smiled and, much to her discontent, roughed up her hair. "Let's get back to your mother and Aerin."

Aerin couldn't help but crack a smile when Boldir ruffled his daughter's hair. He'd always wanted kids, but hadn't found the right girl. Contrary to town rumor, him and Mjoll were just friends, and while they'd experimented with expanding their relationship, it never came to fruition. She was too ambitious, even more so than Aerin, as she always talked about moving to another city, presumably to clear out thief problems, while he was content with saving Riften then planting some roots. Occasionally they still slept together, as neither could bother with a relationship while they fought the Thieves Guild, but it never amounted to more than a few rounds in the bed.
He was so lost in his self contemplation he didn't realize Boldir and Mila were now standing in front of them. Mila's eyes glistened slightly as if she had started to cry, but the smile on her face said she was over the scolding, probably forgetting what it was even about. "So, did you see any other weapons you wanted? Like maybe a broadsword or a war hammer, or are you content with your dagger?" Aerin asked his niece playfully.

Mila put on the most serious face she could manage. "Oh no, I like the great axes best. Momma won't let me have one though."

"Ah, an axe person like your father...well, since mean ol' mommy won't get you one, maybe if you ask really nicely I will!" Aerin had lowered his voice when speaking about his sister, hoping a well deserved swift kick to the backside wasn't imminent.

Mila couldn't keep her composure, and shortly after a smile cracked, it turned to full-on laughter, forgetting all about the ordeal about the names. "Uncle Aerin! I was kidding!"

Aerin put on his best fake shocked expression, trying to looked completely surprised. "Wha-what?! You mean you don't actually want a battle axe? Why not, it's perfectly reasonable for a young girl to have one!"

"I tried to hold Boldir's broken one once." Mila admitted, as the giggles died down, "but I could barely lift the handle."

"I find that hard to believe, look at those muscles," Aerin squeezed Mila's biceps, "Wow, their huge! Larger than your dads even!"

"Right!" she laughed, "and I've also got his beard!" she took the ends of her long hair and brought it under her nose, making a mock beard.

"You know, in the right light-" Boldir started, earning an elbow from a chuckling Carlotta.

"I think Carlotta could use a beard to hide that mug!" Aerin got a little more than an elbow, his bicep receiving a sharp knuckled fist. "Hey! I'm just kidding!"

"Kid on someone who isn't your big sister." Carlotta said, putting extra emphasis on the word 'big'. It wasn't much of a threat, she knew, as she was without a doubt the physically weakest of the three siblings.

"Ugh, Me big bad Carlotta, me punch arm and elbow ribs," Aerin imitated her, adding the troll-like inflection to his voice.

She rolled her eyes and decided to move on, turning to Boldir, "So what are you thinking about for lunch?"

Aerin was about to make a snarky comment to Carlotta when he saw Mjoll across the market, her left arm in a sling and a frown upon her face. "If you'll excuse me, I have something I need to take care of," Aerin said, briskly walking away before anyone could even reply. He practically ran across the marketplace, anxious something was seriously wrong with his friend.
"Mjoll, what's going on?" he asked upon arrival, not even bothering with a greeting.

"Aerin, there you are" His friend didn't look pained despite the fresh wound. "It's nothing serious. I'll buy a potion for it soon." She shook her head. "It was the damned Thieves Guild. One of them was just released from prison, but you know as well as I how little prison does for their lot. I saw him following a man this morning, had a dagger out and everything. In broad daylight! I almost got him, but another came out of nowhere and got my arm with his club. They were both gone by the time I got my sword out."

"Mjoll, I already told you that we need to lay off the Thieves Guild, what if something happened to Boldir and Carlotta, or worst of all Mila? They would never forgive me," Aerin pleaded his friend, putting his hand lightly on her shoulder.

"How could me stopping a mugging come back to hurt them?" Mjoll shook her head. "I'm sorry Aerin, but them being in town is no reason for me to allow these vermin to beat and rob people. It's not even related."

"Apparently it is. I don't know the specifics, but I think the guild and Boldir have a history, so if they learn of his presence then there could be repercussions, on him and his family. Just hold off, please," Aerin was getting frustrated, as his friend just didn't understand what having a family member close to him meant to him.

Mjoll could clearly see his frustration. "If he has a bad history with them, he should've agreed to help us when you offered. But that aside, I don't see what the problem is. Are you saying I should have let the man get mugged?"

"Yes...no, I don't know. I'm just trying to placate Carlotta, and she and Boldir told me not to mess with them, so that's what I'm doing. Plus, you trying to stop them only got you hurt, and the men still got away! So hold off, just for a little while."

"The man they were after got away unharmed. That's reason enough for me to know that I made the right move. I'm sorry Aerin, but I'm not holding off. Not as long as people like that thief continue in their ways. They're the entire reason I'm in Riften. If this Boldir has a problem with what I do, he and I can talk it out ourselves."

"Fine. But know this, Mjoll, that of you do anything to endanger Boldir, Carlotta, or Mila, that'll be the end of my helping you."

"End of your helping me?" Mjoll looked hurt. "Aerin, you are one of the only people here that has ever raised a finger to help make a difference." She frowned. "I'm going to talk to Boldir tonight. You said he was a skilled man, that he could help us deal with the Thieves Guild, as he did in Whiterun. Even if he won't, I will talk to him about his contagious "do nothing" philosophy."

"Shhh, don't speak too loudly, you know as well as I do that anyone could hear us, and that includes the Thieves Guild," Aerin spoke with a lowered voice, much as he had the entire conversation.

"Sorry." Mjoll lowered her voice to match his. "What I said stands. If your sister's husband wants us to allow crime to run unchecked, then perhaps it is time they left. I will say as much to him tonight."

"Go ahead, but know who's side I stand on," Aerin left his warning in the air, walking past Mjoll and towards their house.

***
Vex
The Ragged Flagon

"So you remember all those firs I got a few years back, thinkin' they was 'furs'? Well I finally found a buyer..." Delvin looked confident. "Three threes."

Vex almost laughed, but that wouldn't do in front of the younger members, instead she managed a mocking chuckle as she peered under her overturned wooden cup, the carved whale bone dice beneath read two fives and two twos. "Two fives... You can't mean that you kept those all this time? It was an entire caravan."

"Five fives." The young, muscular Nord, Garthar, looked between the two of them, his eyes alight with humor. "You mean to tell me that you hit a caravan of wood thinking it'd be fur?" He laughed louder than was necessary, as Nords often did. "Oh that's rich!"

"Seven fives." Said a chuckling Rune.

"Yeah, well it's payin' off now. Got two thousand shiny septims for the lot of it. Oh," Delvin looked at Rune, "and you're a liar."
Everyone lifted their cups. Vex saw that Garthar had two fives, Delvin had none, and Rune sat with three, Vex's two left the total at exactly seven. The look on Delvin's face was near priceless. "How in the blazes d'you do that?"

Rune's toothy grin was not an uncommon sight, but even Vex wasn't accustomed to seeing it spread so wide. The young Imperial pushed back his long brown hair and shrugged. "It's a good thing you managed to sale all those firs, because something tells me you will be glad for the extra cash when this is over."

Delvin grumbled and cast out his die. He was down to his last one. Garthar still had two, and Vex four. Somehow though, Rune held on to all five of his own. They all scooped them up and dropped them into their cups. "So..." Rune spoke as they shook up the dice, "did any of you hear about Molgrom? He's finally out, and the first thing he did was go after some man in broad daylight."

This was news to Vex. Molgrom Twice-Killed was an old friend, and a clever thief. Daylight robbery wasn't something she would have expected from him. The guards mostly worked for the same people they did, but even so, they couldn't play stupid to blatant crime in the streets. "No, I didn't hear. What happened?"

"It didn't go well." They all brought their cups down to the table. Vex peered beneath. Three threes and a two. Rune continued. "That Lioness woman showed up and nearly split his skull. Lucky for him that Thrynn was keeping an eye on her. He clipped her in the arm and the pair of them took off. The man never got touched. My turn? Three threes."

"I'll be damned." Delvin shook his head. "Four twos... Where are they now?"

"The pair of them are back in the Cistern now. Molgrom has calmed down since. Says the man had a hand in his arrest."

"Five threes." Vex wagered. "It'll be good to have Molgrom back, so long as he can keep that damn knife of his sheathed. He brought in a good bit of gold."

"Seven threes." Garthar continued. The Nord was more interested in the game than in old members he'd never met.

"Well I think-"

"Hey!" Rune was interrupted by a woman's voice. Vex recognized it immediately as belonging to Sapphire, a jewel thief and one of their youngest, yet most skilled members. She pushed past the lookout, Dirge, and approached the table. "Where's Brynjolf?"

"He's topside." Vex answered. "He'll be back later tonight. What's the hurry?"

"I heard something that he needs to know. It was my turn to follow the Lioness woman."

The whole table groaned. Will that bitch not let up? wondered Vex, If Aerin doesn't want her to get killed, he needs to control her. "What is it that she did this time?"

"It's not what she did, it's what she said. It was in the market, so I didn't hear perfectly, but she was talking to that Imperial fool out by the market. The one she's usually with, and she spoke of getting outside help from someone named Boldir. She said something along the lines of him striking against the guild here, and that he's already done something similar in Whiterun."

Boldir?! Vex barely managed to hide her surprise. This didn't make any sense. He came here with Carlotta and Mila. There is no way that he would be doing something so stupidly dangerous. "That's ridiculous. One man couldn't bring us down, no matter how dangerous."

"Now hold on a minute, Vex." said Delvin, "This actually explains what happened in Whiterun. Battle-Born called off our deal, and we haven't had a job pulled off in there in months. What else did she say, Sapphire?"

"Well it was mostly whispered, and she only got loud for a bit near the end. That's when I got closer to hear better. She said that, and she said something about seeing him tonight. I didn't catch much else."

"Then we've got some time. Good job Sapphire. Having that woman watched turned out to be a good idea after all." Delvin shrugged. "Best move we can make now is have someone follow her to the meeting and see what this Boldir fella is about."

Vex realized this was her best chance to fix whatever was going on here. "I'll do it."

"That's reassuring." Delvin stood up. "Now I had better take this news to Bryn."

"Oh no you don't." Rune grabbed his arm, still grinning as though nothing was amiss. "Vex is dealing with it, and Brynjolf is busy. He can hear the news when he gets back. You've still got a die on the table."

"You're a damn grubber, you know that?." Delvin sat back down, while Vex stood.
"Take over for me, Sapphire. Win and I'll give you half. Lose to anyone but Rune and I'll bust your lip. I'm going to find the Nord woman now while we know where she is."

"Alright. Good luck Vex." Sapphire took her seat. She could hear Delvin cursing and Rune laughing as she headed back through the hidden back door to the Cistern. The main headquarters of the Thieves Guild was as busy as ever. The light cast from the well above fell down the center in a solid stream, and illuminated the large round sanctuary for her extended family of thugs and ruffians. Members everywhere talked and trained and gambled and planned. A few years ago, they had been but a shadow, a handful of old, unlucky thieves who clung to the hope that their fortunes would turn and the guild would prosper. Now, they numbered so greatly, even she had a hard time remembering all the new names. Wealth and jobs had become abundant, and they had contacts in every city save Whiterun.
Whiterun. If Boldir had anything to do with that, I'll... Vex wasn't really sure what she would do, but that was nothing compared to the second accusation. If he truly was plotting against them here in Riften, and dragging her sister into it as well, then there was going to be hell to pay.

Once she was topside, Vex headed for the market. Despite the dense crowds, Mjoll the Lioness wasn't hard to spot. Even if she didn't wear a full suit of iron armor, carry a sword plus battle axe, and stand half a head over everyone, she would still stand out. The woman resided in Riften, but she stood apart from the locals. She carried herself tall and proud, but rarely seemed to interact with anyone, and was always just a little outside of whatever crowds are formed up. Except when she's with my brother.
Mjoll's affiliation with Aerin bugged Vex. It had nothing to do with care for her brother of course, but it made her uneasy. There wasn't a man or woman in the city that knew they were siblings save for Mjoll and a few harmless old-timers, and that was thanks to Aerin. What if she were to let that bit of information slip, and the guild were to learn that one of their opponents was directly kin to her? Then they would assume that she had been protecting, or even siding with him. Situations like that could lead anywhere.

Vex found a comfortable bench on the other side of the market and took a seat. It turned out that Mjoll was a dreadfully dull person. The Nord eventually found a seat of her own and remained there for the next few hours. Even her humorless, deadpan expression was boring. When the sun fell behind the walls and darkness finally began to take hold, she finally stirred. Most of the market stalls were not yet ready to close, and so the crowds remained, albeit smaller, and so it was not difficult for Vex to go unnoticed. Mjoll headed into the Bee and Barb, and so Vex followed.

The tavern was almost always busy, and Vex found tonight to be no exception. She spotted Mjoll heading for the counter, to an empty seat beside a huge dark-haired Nord who dwarfed even the Lioness. All three of them stay here. With that in mind, Vex pulled up her black hood to hide her face and light blonde hair. It would be to her eternal shame if Carlotta's daughter were to come tugging on her sleeve with a question as she eavesdropped on her stepdad.
There were no empty seats close to the pair of them, so Vex simply crossed the room and leaned on the wall nearby, making sure that her hood blocked Boldir's view of her face were he to turn and look. If she didn't draw any attention, the density of people in the room should allow her to go unnoticed.

Boldir's voice was low, but not a whisper. He most likely made the common mistake of assuming the noisy room made their conversation private. Vex had learned long ago that it was not so. She noticed that he sounded far from happy.
"-to know, who is it that told you my name?"

Vex strained to listen, but could not make out what Mjoll said in response. The woman sat too far and the room too loud. She would have to piece it together from Boldir's end of the conversation alone.

... "I didn't want that getting out. You're the only person he told?" ...
... "Good. That is reassuring to hear. What is it you are here for then?" ...
... "Is that so? Well you have me wrong. I said 'no' because I'm here with my family. I have no interest in putting them at risk by joining the two of you in your futile crusade." ...

Vex breathed a sigh of relief. The idea that Boldir could have been planning against the guild was not one she relished in. If an anxious thief didn't slit his throat in an alleyway first, the Black-Briars would have him, Carlotta, and probably even Mila arrested. Vex knew that people who get caught crossing the Black-Briars, or even those under their protection, are rarely seen again. She was not particularly worried about Boldir, but the thought of her sister or niece being harmed on his account had infuriated her almost as much as the nonexistent plan would have.

... "Yes, it is futile, and suicidal as well. However, I think you're right. We have spent many weeks in this city now. I am not going to fight you on this. Give me two days longer with my family, two days in which you don't do anything stupid, and I promise, we will all be gone." ...
... "Don't be sorry, I may think what you're doing is foolish, but I won't pretend it's not commendable. I respect it, and you can tell Aerin as much." ...
..."You misunderstand. That didn't mean I approve. I wish he'd quit for good rather than just while we are here. He is my family now, after all. I do not wish to see his life ended early."

Vex had heard enough. She slipped out of the building drawing as little attention as when she'd entered. So Sis's leaving in a couple of days... For a moment, Vex considered 'obtaining' a going away gift for them, but then decided against it. That would just make her and the big guy mad. She passed through town without drawing a glance, and would soon be back in the Flagon, where she could expose the whole matter as the misunderstanding it was. Crisis averted. Good job, Vex.
***
Maul (Colonel)
Black-Briar Manor

Maul was in a particularly pleasant mood, not that you could tell from his face. He just got his hands on an old drunkard who thought it would be funny to piss on Maven Black-Briar's estate. Needless to say, he wouldn't be making that mistake again, and he may even give up drinking to make sure he didn't. After that business was done, he made his way back inside the manor, where Maven apparently wanted his hulking presence. He was her right hand man, but his time serving as such was rarely at her side, but in the streets where he more comfortably worked. If she wanted him in attendance to something, she was either having a meeting with someone that needed more convincing, be it by intimidation of his presence or by how he got his namesake, or she had a job for him. Either way, tonight may prove to be interesting. Talos knows he could use some interesting, not that he gave a flying **** about Talos. In Riften, Maven was the only god worth taking note of.

A few clicks from the door from Maul's key to the manor announced his arrival, though the only person surprised after the door opened was Maul when he saw who was inside. "Brynjolf?" he said. That scam artist almost never came around here, as Maven didn't want to openly be seen associating with the thieves guild, though not everyone knew Brynjolf was in it. They knew he was a scam artist, but he was a poor one. A good cover up to throw off the suspicion of being a master thief. At any rate, his presence here meant that whatever Maven had planned for him must be important.

"Maul." The thief returned the greeting curtly. He was sitting at the far end of the dining room table, just in view of the front door. The rest of the table was not visible from where he stood.

"Maul's here?" It was the voice of Maven's grandson, Sibbi. "Hurry up and get back here! We need you!"

Maul was lucky that his facial expression hardly ever changed except to go from mean to meaner, as any time he saw Sibbi, his disgust for the man filled his mind. Even the name did. He was nothing like his grandmother and he never would be. Maven knew this plain, though Maul was smart enough not to express the same feelings with her. The only thing he expressed was a will to obey, unless told otherwise, which is what he did now as he moved into the room and stood at Maven's side before taking his seat. Maven respected that in him and granted him the mercy of not having to kiss her ass in front of the others, so he was silent as he sat, waiting to see things unfold.

"Brynjolf," Maven's voice was sharp like a dagger. It betrayed no emotion, but always came off as more commanding than any Jarl. It was the voice of a person who was always in charge, and knew it. "Repeat to Maul what you've just told us."

Like any scam artist, Brynjolf usually wore his own masks well, but Maul could see in him a hint of confusion. Emotions and thoughts are difficult to hide in front of Maven.
"One of our thieves returned today. She had been tailing a vigilante named Mjoll. People call her 'The Lioness'. You have probably heard of her plenty. She has acted against us before, and so we decided to keep tabs on her, to keep her from further hurting any of our own. While she tailed, she overheard Mjoll talking to a man named Aerin. Never did know the man's last name, he didn't take an interest in us until a few years back, but he's mostly been harmless. The conversation wasn't entirely clear, but she did overhear the Lioness talking about making a move against the guild. She admits that it could've been a mistake, as they spoke low, in large crowds. She said it sounded like they were getting outside help from a man named Boldir, and that she was meeting him tonight. My best thief went out to listen in on that meeting. That way we can confirm one way or the other if this is for real or not. Odds are she can tell me everything by the time I get back. I'll come straight to you with the news."

Hemming Black-Briar, Maven's son and Sibbi's father, was the only one in the room to wear a smile, unless you count the smug grin that was ever-present on his own son. "When this thief of yours has told you where this Boldir is and who he is with, we will deal with all of them accordingly."

"Like I said," Brynjolf started, "we don't know for certain that there is a plan at all. The hearing was very vague, and-"

"You need not worry yourself with that part." interrupted Sibbi. "We have questions of our own for this man. Just find him for us, and any others."

Brynjolf nodded. "Of course."

Maybe Brynjolf didn't understand, though Maul was sure he did, which was why he tried to protest, but Maul was starting to get the picture of things perfectly well. Whether or not this Boldir was involved with them or not, Mjoll the Lioness was a rather annoying pain in the ass. If the Thieves Guild and Maven got to this man, it would give Mjoll something to think about next time she tried to start trouble. And that went for anyone else in the city that got any fanciful ideas. Though, if this Boldir man was someone Mjoll thought she could go to, perhaps it would be better if he dug a little to find a little info himself.
"Maven, if you don't mind, after Vex gets back with this information, I'd like to do a little info searching of my own around the city." Maul looked to Brynjolf and gave him a meaningful look of recognition. Everyone knew Vex was the best thief in the thieves guild aside from Brynjolf himself. "Anyone Mjoll thinks she can go to has to be someone we should know about. And as you know, knowing is my thing."

"All that I need to know, is this man's location." Maven said flatly. "Once we have that, I want you to bring him here to me. If he has any allies, gather some help and bring them as well. I care little for Mjoll unless she actually has a plan. When this business is over, you can look into that."
Maul nodded to her, then stayed silent. He wasn't worried, since no matter who this man was, it was unlikely that he had the connections or power Maven had. Whoever he was before, they'd find out soon enough, and it can only be an advantage for Maven by then.

Maven coughed, it sounded like a choking cough, but stopped far too abruptly. For the briefest of moments, so fast that Maul was sure that only he had seen it, a flash of annoyance crossed her face. "Sibbi, go to that alchemy shop and fetch your sister."

Sibbi got up left the room without a word. When he was gone, Brynjolf spoke again. "So I'm good to go then? I'm sure we're all anxious to find out what..." he cast an involuntary glance at Maul. It was brief, but the look was one of a man who'd been beaten. "... Vex discovered."

Maven waved her hand, "Yes, go. And be quick about it. I would have this all dealt with tonight." And with that, Brynjolf took his leave as well. He didn't make a sound as he exited the manor. After a moment, Maven looked back to Maul. "I want you to remain here until he returns."

"Of course, Maven. What are you thinking?" he asked, curious since the flash of annoyance what was on her mind. Why she wanted Ingun made him wonder as well. Sometimes her talent with elixirs was put to good use.

"I am thinking that you are paid to obey. Not ask questions."
Maven stood, and abruptly headed toward the door that went upstairs. Leaving only Hemming with him.

Maul gave a rare smirk that faded when he looked at Hemming. Classic Maven. Vex better hurry it up so I can get this business over with. I'm curious as to why something like this would attract Maven's attention. Mjoll is an annoying bitch, but she's never been able to do anything with Maven. They haven't even spoken. So why the interest in her now?

***
Vex, Boldir, Carlotta, Mila
Riften

Vex felt better than she had in a long time. After disproving to those who knew of the matter that Boldir intended to harm them, she went into the Cistern and paid Rune for the lost dice game. From there she went on to win her money back in two more (games not involving Rune, of course), and then some in an arm wrestling match with Viper the Fleet. It was nearly midnight, and most of the others had either left or found places to sleep in the hideout when Brynjolf finally returned. By then, Vex was propped up on one of the beds set up for senior members, reading her copy of 'I'm My Own Grandpa'. She noticed his shadow rounding the corner from the brazier-lit entryway before he was actually visible. This being where she usually waited late at night, he immediately headed in her direction. "So did you get what we needed, lass?"

Vex hated it when he called her 'lass', but she knew it to be a reflex of his, and he meant nothing by it. "Your lass got everything we needed. That Boldir guy doesn't want anything to do with us. It was all just wishful thinking from the Lioness. In fact, he'll be gone in a couple days."

"That's good to hear, but do you know where he is?"

Vex closed her book and laid it aside. "What does it matter where he is? He's got nothing on us."

"Maven wants to know. She doesn't seem to care much about the plan we thought he had. She seems more interested in the arrest. I'm guessing she wants to sort out the deal herself. That bruiser of hers, Maul, is gonna be rounding up him and anyone with him, but I take it he's alone, considering he never was part of a scheme after all. Oh, and they want a description."

"So she just wants to snatch him up without a reason? What happens then? She tortures him?"

"What Maven does is her own business. Since when did you start growing a heart for strangers?"

Vex knew she had to keep it up, for her sister's sake, that she knew and cared little about the man at the inn. "I didn't. What she does to him doesn't matter to me. It just seemed... wasteful, is all."

"Wasteful?" Brynjolf paused for a moment, confused, then his eyes widened. "You aren't taking that kind of an interest in targets now, are you?"

"Shut up!" Vex sounded angry and embarrassed, exactly as she intended. "I don't care about him. He's staying at the Bee and Barb, alone. He's a big guy with black hair and a beard. There, happy?"

"Sorry about this, lass." he chuckled as he headed off, towards the hidden exit that came out beneath the chapel. "Next time, fall for a wealthy target."

She waited until she could hear him climbing the ladder, then quickly slipped off the bed and made for the sewer exit. The Flagon was empty save for a few newer members gambling and drunkenly milling about. None of them said a word as she raced past them and into the Ratway sewer system. The route was longer than the one Brynjolf took, and farther from where she headed, but her running could make up for some of that time, and Maven's goons would no doubt take a few minutes to organize before heading out. She had to reach Boldir before they did.

The sewers felt long, even with the guild shortcuts she took, and the dark twists and turns made that stretch seem all the longer. Finally, when she was out the sewer gate, she continued her flight under the moons and stars, bounding through the shadows like a ghost, seen only briefly by the occasional passer-by, then lost again in the dark patterns cast by the the clouds. Not a soul could have recognized her until she entered the perpetually crowded Bee and Barb inn, where no one could make a scene and go unnoticed. She slipped upstairs and made for the first room in a row that she knew to be large enough for a family of three.
The lock was child's play, and as luck would have it, all three Iron-Brows laid asleep inside. Vex wasn't religious, but she whispered 'thanks' to whatever force blessed her luck tonight. "Pssst! Wake up!"

Boldir stirred. He'd been dreaming of giants, of all things. He watched as a group of them slaughtered Thalmor and Imperials alike, in the plains of Whiterun. "No," he called out to the beasts, "There were no Imperials here. It was only elves." The giants didn't seem to care, and neither did he, he realized. Just as he raised his large battle axe to help, a giant's club appeared and smashed the end to bits. "Why did you do that?" he asked it. The giant looked him dead in the eyes, and spoke with a woman's voice. "HEY! Wake up!"

"What the-?" His eyes opened, and a hooded shadow stood at the foot of the bed. Someone's in the room! Boldir rolled from under the sheets and to the floor, landing at a crouch. He grabbed his Nordic war axe from the mantle and spun around. "Carlotta, get behind me! Mila! Your dagger!"
The shadowed figure cursed and disappeared through the door. Mila sat up in her bed, right behind where the woman had been. Her face was invisible in this darkness, but the moonlight through the window lit her dagger up a bright white. She already had it up. Good girl.

"Will you stop it?!" Carlotta's cry was frantic. "That was Vex, not some killer!"

"Yeah, no shit!" Vex's voice came from the other side of the door. "Now are you gonna let me come in without chopping my face off?"

Boldir took a few breaths to steady himself, and set aside his axe. Abrupt wakings were not something he took well. "Come in. You better have a good explanation for-"

"Saving your lives isn't good enough?" Asshole. Vex entered again and glanced at Mila's still raised dagger. "Is that thing glowing?" Her thieving instincts went crazy. The dagger had to be worth a fortune. Not now! "Nevermind. Put it up. It'll draw attention." She looked back to Boldir and Carlotta. "We have to go, NOW. They'll be here in minutes, maybe less."

Nobody moved. "Who will be here?" Boldir asked wearily.

What's wrong with these people?! Do they not see how rushed I am?! "The gods damned Black-Briars, that's who! Maven's gonna be sending her favorite dog Maul, and a team of others. Believe me big guy, more than even you can handle."

The Black-Briars? Boldir shared a brief glance with his wife and the two of them were up. Carlotta began stuffing things frantically into a bag, while he put on a shirt, boots, and a belt.

"Hang on. The Black-Briars?" Mila was confused. "What do they want?"

"I'll explain later, I promise." said Boldir as he lifted the heavy chest containing his Nordic Carved armor. "Just get together what you can.

He'll explain later? What's he got to explain? Vex eyed him as he hefted that rattly chest of his. That won't do at all. "Leave the chest! We need to be quick, quiet, and discreet. We can't be any of those with that thing."

Boldir hated it, but Vex was right. He dropped the chest in the corner and threw on a deer fur cloak. "How long do we have?"

"We don't have any time at all." Vex said. "That's enough, let's go! Now!" She turned and headed for the exit. Carlotta followed close with an overstuffed pack on her back. Mila was close behind her, carrying nothing but her dagger and small travel bag. Boldir took the rear, opting to be where he could keep an eye on all of them.

In the tavern below, Vex peeked out the marketside door and saw none other than Maven's large pet himself, Maul, wearing full steel armor and with a mace at his side. He was flanked by about ten other thugs, some in guard uniform, and some not. They were approaching through the market, not twenty meters away. She quickly snapped her head back in. "Out the other door. Hurry!"
They wasted no time in obeying. The four of them made their way to the opposite end of the tavern and were out the door not a moment too soon. It wasn't over yet. Vex figured that they had perhaps a minute before Maul realized Boldir wasn't upstairs. She rushed them to a nearby alley at the other side of the canal. She noticed as they passed that the gate was closed, and two guards stood by it. Could I convince them to open it? She peered around the corner of the house they hid behind. There's no way Maven would have alerted them for this, is there?

She didn't have time to decide. One of Maul's men bounded from the inn and past the alley, straight to the gate, where he stood talking to the guards, no doubt telling them to keep the gate closed. Shit!
Vex knew what had to happen. She would have to take the them to her house. "This way." she hissed, and lead them through the shadows of the city. Through alleys, over canals, under porches, and around streets they ran, stopping periodically to time their sprints around any patrols. By now, Maul would have his thugs searching the streets, and getting help from every guard they meet. But this was a big city, and she knew it better than anyone. Soon enough, they were behind her house. Vex lead the way into the back door, and promptly locked it behind them. Hearing that latch click was one of the most satisfying things in the world.
She turned and looked at the trio. All three looked confused, and the girls looked scared to boot. Mila was breathing heavy, and her skin was pale. Vex patted her on the shoulder. "You did good." She looked up at her sister. "Eventful night, huh?"

"Eventful night?!" Carlotta felt like screaming, and only managed to control herself because Boldir and Mila watched. "Do you mind telling us what is going on?!"

Vex glanced at Boldir. "You said you'd explain later." she said with a fake, 'knowing' attitude. It was probably an asshole move to put this on him, but she didn't much care, especially after saving his life. Plus, she was genuinely curious of what his answer would be. He wasn't supposed to know anything. "Why don't you tell her for me?"

Boldir scowled. "I already told my wife everything there is... Or at least was. Why don't you explain to me why Maven Black-Briar knows I'm here?! In fact, how do you know what's going on?"

"What is going on?" Mila shouted. "None of you are making any sense!"

"I'll be honest," Vex looked at Mila. "I'm starting to feel about as lost as you are."

"How are you lost?" Carlotta said, perplexed, "you're the one who knew what was happening!"

"Yeah, and then big guy here said he'd explain, insinuating that he knew something on his own, and now just confirmed it." She jabbed a thumb in Boldir's direction. "You've met Maven before, haven't you?"

Boldir glared at Vex. She was more clever than he'd originally figured. And much more conniving. She'd been pretending that she knew more than she did this whole time. She'd been waiting to put him on the spot for this ever since the moment he'd uttered those brief words to Mila, and only to sate her own curiosity. I'll explain later... Damn. He would have to explain the Black-Briar situation, to Vex and to Mila. But that could wait. Vex knew something he didn't as well, and that was how they learned that he was in their city. "I'll tell you everything, I promise. But first, tell me what lead up to you saving us from the thugs, and what brought them our way."

"Fine." Vex relented. "One of our thieves was in the market today-"

"Oh gods!" Mila interrupted. Water was forming up in her eyes. "It was the blacksmith wasn't it? It's because I told him our names!" Tears began to freely roll down her cheeks, and she turned to Boldir and burried her face in his cloak. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! I didn't know-"

What in the world? "No," Vex said, "stop that! You didn't have anything to do with it." She let the girl wipe her eyes and continued, telling them all about Sapphire and what she'd heard. How she, out of strictly love, had personally volunteered to eavesdrop on Boldir's meeting with Mjoll, and went back to the guild telling everyone that it was all a misunderstanding. She told them of Brynjolf's return, and how he had told him that Boldir was alone.

"So why didn't you give a fake location?" Interrupted Carlotta.

"Because, sweet sister, they would get there and realize I had lied. Unlike with the inn, where there is plenty of evidence that you were actually there. And then, they would've been after me as well. Believe it or not, I actually want to get through all of this unscathed. It was already too late for you three. The best I could do was reach you before Maul, which I did... So yeah, I've basically been busting my butt for you three all day. You're welcome."

Boldir hesitated, then extended a hand. "I never thought I'd say this to a thief like you, but... thank you."

Vex glanced at his hand, but didn't take it. "What is this? Court? I told you my end. Now it's your turn."

Boldir sighed. He wasn't sure how to break this to Mila, or how she would respond. "Can we find a place to sit first?"

Vex lead them to her kitchen. The dinning table could seat six, so Boldir sat at the end, Carlotta and Mila sat on one side of him, and Vex, the other.
"Alright." Boldir looked at Carlotta. She nodded, with him always. "I was young when I had my first run-in with the Black-Briars. Back then they were lead by Maven's older brother, a man named Torven. This was when I was in the Legion, stationed at Fort Greenwall north of the city. We collaborated with the family on some matters, and along with a few others, I was eventually moved to work for the Black-Briars personally. To skip over most of the details, a friend of mine brought into light just how bad our new bosses really were, and so we brought the news to the Jarl. When he sent me and a group of others to arrest Torven, it got ugly, and I ended up killing him. What happened after that doesn't matter, but it lead me leaving the Legion for good. Since then, I've always used my devotion to Talos as a cover for why I had to leave, to keep what happened in Riften under wraps."

 

The room was silent for a good few seconds. Vex was shocked. She remembered when Torven had died. It was notable because that same day, Jarl Karsten, Layla's father, was murdered, and the following days had been chaotic. This explains why Maven wanted him caught with or without a crime. Just hearing the name Boldir was enough. "So... You killed Maven's brother?"

"Yes, and she tried to kill me soon after."

"And all this happened, what, over twenty years ago? You survived, got away from Maven and lost her for good. Became a family man, had a good life, and then saw fit to bring your family back here, to a place run by people wanting to KILL YOU?!" Vex scowled. "And here I thought I was helping someone with common sense! I should throw you out now! Let her have you before you drag the rest of us down too!"

"He isn't the only one who knew!" Carlotta retorted. "We discussed this before coming to Riften. I agreed that we should come. He looks completely different now, and only through near impossible misfortune could we have gotten caught."

"Then the gods are ******* funny. Because that's exactly what happened." Vex shook her head, muttering, "Parents dragging their kid into a death trap. You know, Ma and Pa may not have loved me like they do you or Aerin, but I actually am starting to appreciate them now."

Carlotta gasped. "Aerin! We forgot about Aerin! They know Mjoll is related, and they'll come for him next."

"It's alright. None of them know he has sisters. We can't do anything for him now, so you can try praying, if that's still your thing." She got up and headed for the stairs. "I've done some stuff to conceal the attic room upstairs. You three can stay in it until we figure out how to get you out of this city. The sooner the better. Knowing Maven, she'll take drastic measures once you've been hidden for too long. I can hide you from Maul. But don't expect me to be much help if a Dark Brotherhood assassin comes searching."

"Mila?" Boldir looked the girl's way. She was avoiding looking at him, he could tell. "I'm sorry that I haven't been telling you... everything. We- I thought it best if you didn't know. So you could come here and enjoy the trip."

Mila turned around in her chair. "You lied to me." she said quietly. "You told me that they didn't need a reason to be bad, but they had one. That's why you didn't want me saying our names." She finally turned and faced him, teary eyed and angry. "You yelled at me for putting us in danger, but you put us all in danger!"

"Mila, it's not-"

"No! I don't want to listen to you! You're a liar!" She threw back her chair and stormed out the room the way Vex had gone.

Carlotta scooted closer and put an arm around Boldir. "She'll come around."

"Did you see her face, Carlotta? She hates me for this. What kind of kid looks up to a father that lies to them?" He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so broken. "I brought us here for her... This was all for her. I just wanted," he cursed as he felt a slight bit of water forming in his own eyes. He blinked it away. "I just wanted her to see her family, to see the places we came from. To give her what any decent father would!" But no. Thrice damned Maven and the thrice damned guild had to ruin that! He leaned low and held onto Carlotta, leaving his head on her shoulder. "And now we're stuck here... What do I do?"

Mila sat at the bottom of the stairs, just on the other side of the wall. Her face was buried in her hands as she sobbed. A hand on her shoulder spun her around. "You shouldn't be eavesdropping on your parents." said Vex. "Come on up. I'll show you your new room."

***
Maul

 

It was late when Maul finally returned, but nobody slept. Every Black-Briar had remained up, each undoubtedly with different thoughts on what was to happen next. Not that any of those thoughts mattered save Maven's own. Even Ingun was up, standing close behind Maven in the entryway. Hemming and Sibbi could be heard talking in a back room.
"So," said Maven, glaring at Maul with a hard-to-read expression that hinted at something bordering between anger and disappointment, "I presume you failed?"

 

Maul knew better than to make excuses, so he gave it to her plain. "Yes, I failed. He wasn't there. At least, he wasn't when I got there. Others saw him in the inn along with a woman and a child, but they were gone by the time me and my men got there. I alerted the guards by the gates, so he must still be in the city. I think someone tipped him off."

 

"If he's still here, then it's only a matter of time. I want you to insure that we have someone loyal at the gates at all times, and nobody leaves the city without being checked and without us hearing of it. After you are sure the gates are secure, get some rest. Tomorrow, I want the guard force notified, and the streets more heavily patrolled. Brynjolf says that he is a large man. He can not go unnoticed for long. When all this is done, you are to meet with my grandson and begin your search for this person you believe tipped him off."

 

"As you say, Maven. Shouldn't be too hard. I already know where to start..." Mjoll. She was last seen talking with him according to Vex. She'll know. And if she won't talk, I bet I can get that shrimp that follows her around like a lost puppy to sing for me. It's time they learn whose city this is.

 

"Good. And Maul, when you find him, I want him captured, not killed, along with the woman and child seen with him. I would recommend bringing help to avoid any case in which he he proves more than your match. Be quick in this. Take too long, and you give him more time to figure out a way to escape, and I will have no choice but to resort to measures I would prefer to avoid."

 

"Got it." Maul was about to leave it at that and head through the door, though one final thought came to his mind... "Maven, one more thing. I'm sure by now you know what I'm planning and who I plan on visiting. Do I have the same restrictions with them as well?"

 

"Mjoll lives." Maven said plainly. "The Jarl is obsessed with her, and she is useful in her own right. As for her friend, you may do what you will."

 

Maul gave another one of his rare smirks, then sank back into the darkness of the city. That darkness not being completely literal. Mjoll wasn't likely to give him anything anyway. He knew that. Not on her own. But the bitch who followed her? If he didn't talk, he could make her talk whether he wanted her to or not. One way or another, someone would talk. They always did. And if they didn't, well...

 

At least he could have a little fun while he was at it.

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Stalks-Deep-Waters

Nightgate Inn

Early afternoon

 

Stalks opened the door to the inn. It was a rather traditional inn with a long hearth in the middle of the house and tables along the walls. The counter with the innkeeper was at the far end of the room. Not many people in the inn apart from the innkeeper. Stalks walked up to the hearth first and stretched out his hands to warm them up from the cold weather outside. After a minute of warming up his hands he approached the innkeeper. "Good day. I'm looking to trade and for some information." 

 

"Yer in luck then, lizard. Hadring can't keep his mouth shut to save his life." Or others... said, a Nord man in simple brown farmer's clothing said.

 

"You hush that, Fultheim and keep a mug in your mouth! Ignore him. Now, what kind of info are you searching for, traveler?"

 

Stalks gave the nord farmer a quick glance and then turned back to the innkeeper. "I'm looking for a bandit leader named Lilith, she's a dark elf."

 

At the mention of that name, the innkeeper's face turned sallow as his cheery expression went haggard. It was clear the man knew of who he spoke. "I may have heard some rumors, but they're just that. I don't know where that devil is, but I know one thing. You'd best just go and ignore that one, Argonian. Especially you. She takes an interest in your kind especially from what I hear...I have heard rumors of why, but as I said, they're just rumors." While the Nord spoke, he quickly wrote on a small piece of paper and passed it to him under a mug. It said that her hideout was in Ironbind Barrow, and that every so often one of her men would come in strange armor they claimed was dragonscale armor of all things, and they threatened him with his life if he didn't help keep their whereabouts a secret. Some of them even sneaked into his room just to prove a point. He was risking his life helping him out with this task. It told him which direction to go as well to reach them, and if he cleared the weirdos out, he'd get a free night of drinks on him. "So, is there anything else I can help you with? Some spiced wine to warm the blood perhaps? Or some mead? I'm about to pull out another batch soon, aged since before the civil war."

 

Slipping the note into one his many pockets he had on him, Stalks then hauled his backpack onto the counter. "I also want to trade. Got a lot of fresh wolf meat." 

 

The Nord gave him a deplorable look. "We Nords don't eat wolf meat, boy. Not since Lady Mara granted Sai the ability to take their form."

 

"Got some salt for sale then? Got to keep the meat preserved." 

 

The Nord brought out five small pouches of salt and placed them on the counter. "Fifteen gold for all of them. Can't sell more, I need it for my own meats."

 

"Fair enough." Stalks said and picked up and carefully counted fifteen coins that he then put on the counter. He then opened the backpack and started preparing the meat with the first pouch of salt. When he was done he still had two pouches of salt left that hanged by the belt among the other pouches and pockets and closed the backpack and put it back over the shoulder. "And about her." Stalks then lowered his voice and leaned a little closer. "Maybe you should report some of her crimes anonymously and get her a higher bounty. In case I fail, a higher bounty would attract more mercenaries."

 

The Nord pondered that, though if it got out to Lilith that her bounty increased, he was sure she'd know. The man's nervous face turned stern as he said, "Got it. I'll get to it if you don't return here in a day's time."

 

Better take it slow then. "I'll be going soon then." Stalks then turned around and took a few steps to the hearth to warm himself up fully before going out in the cold again. 

 

Afterwards, Hadring went back to his duties for a while. Eventually some more people came in, and started demanding more mead, so Hadring went down into the cellar and filled some more bottles from the keg. After he came back up, the thirsty Nords practically threw him their gold so they could hurry up and drink. This wasn't particularly unusual, and he didn't even bother to count the gold, knowing in a few moments, they'd be shelling out more coin and too drunk to stop.

 

Stalks tried not to pay much attention to the nords and sat down on a bench, pulled off his boots from his somewhat strangely shaped legs and held the feet up to the fire. At first Stalks didn't pay much attention to his surroundings till he noticed that that farmer Fultheim was looking at his feet like he was some kind of freak. "Never seen an argonian's feet before?" And Stalks almost had to yell to not have his words drowned in the loud chatter of the drinking nords that had just come in. 

 

Fultheim was always somewhat tipsy, so while normally he'd no better than to stare, today he didn't really care. "Nope. Can't say I have," he said simply, not at all sure if he spoke loudly enough to be heard. The Nord's mug was empty, so he stood up now to get another bottle for it, though something he could notice even in his desensitized state stopped him from doing so. "What in the hell's wrong with you?" he asked another surly Nord nearby.

 

The man's face looked like it was about to implode on itself as he held a shaky mug of mead to his face, then suddenly dropped it on the table. From the looks of it, the man didn't even drink a drop, and after the mead spilled, everyone knew why. "Gah, that mead smells like an Orc's ass!" Fultheim said. The man who almost drank it suddenly lost his stomach contents, unfortunately adding to the already rancid smell.

 

Stalks chuckled at the event at how the nords couldn't hold their dear little mead. Then he stretched out his legs so they got a bit abnormally long and the three big and slightly curved front claws on his feet scrapped against the stone around the hearth. He then pulled them back before burning his feet off and started dragging the boots onto the feet. After a minute of trying to get leather boots, that was originally made for humans, on comfortably, he got up from the bench and started walking towards the door. 

 

"What's all the fuss about?" said Hadring. "No one insults my mead, damnit." By now, the Nords that just recently bought a bottle started to look at theirs as though it could blow up any second. One woman slowly opened hers and took a whiff, then quickly turned her nose away. "Give me that!" the innkeeper said angrily. After he took it away, he started looking around at the other Nords who were all waiting for him to try it himself. The whole tavern went quiet and watched as Hadring nodded his head and ruffled his lips beneath his beard, as if to say 'Now watch me.'

 

But before Hadring could even take a sip, the smell threatened to knock him cold. His hesitation was enough for the other tavern dwellers, and they all started grumbling and rising from their seats. "Now hold on just a second! I-It's not so bad! Look!" Hadring forced himself to take a sip, and as soon as he did, his neck muscles tightened up as he retched himself on the stone floor.

 

Stalks stopped as he was about to turn the handle on the door when the ruckus caused him to turn and look at the innkeeper. He lingered for a moment before deciding to go back or he'd never get those free stuffs and a possible raise on the bounty. He snatched a mug of mead from the counter and smelled it briefly before dipping his tongue in it and then quickly spitting it out on the floor. "Rot and bile." He said briefly and indifferently. "Either that or your supplier got some really weird spices. Hey, are you going survive?" Stalks tilted his head a little as he looked at the innkeeper. 

 

The Nord was still coughing up whatever was left in him when he gave Stalks-Deep-Waters a bewildered look. "Bollocks!" he said, though he didn't stay to argue, and instead ran towards the cellar door coughing the entire way down. A long time passed as the man disappeared into the cellar again. When he finally came back up, he looked even paler than before when the Argonian mentioned Lilith's name. He took a seat in front of the merc at one of the tables, then said, "She knows. I don't know how....but that sick bitch knows."

 

"Knows what?" Stalks asked, sounding a bit confused at it all. 

 

"S-She must know, t-that I told you! She somehow r-replaced my mead with another holding the Orc's...all this time he was missing, and she had him....Damnit, I don't know! Get out! Get out of my inn and take your trouble with you!" Hadring said all he was going to say. After what he saw in the cellar, he wasn't going to have anything to do with the Argonian anymore. He had long since wondered where his Orc customer had disappeared to a few years back. To him, the reappearance of the orsimer in his mead keg could only be the work of that Lilith and her rumored insanity. He didn't know how, and he didn't care how. "Get out!" 

 

Stalks shrugged. "Sure, I'll go. But my only trouble is that I'm a bit short on gold. Lilith is actually your problem." He then turned around and started walking towards the door again. 

 

"Hmph! You think you can squeeze coin from me? Forget it! I've had enough of this. Threaten my life, that's one thing, but no one messes with my mead! If she wants to send me to Sovngarde, then so be it. I'll be waiting for her if you won't take care of it." Hadring stood from the table and walked over to where he kept his farmer's axe in a corner, then walked back down into the cellar to dispose of his ruined batch of mead.

 

The coin better be worth it. Stalks then left the warmth of the inn and headed out in the cold weather. At least the wind was calm and the sun shone bright in the sky and gave of a little heat. He walked around the inn till he reached the main road and from there it was to head north for a while and then head off the beaten path up the mountain. It wasn't far till he reached the point he was heading up a dirt road dotted by piles of rocks that had a piece of cloth attached to the top. If the directions was right, he would at the end reach a cave entrance that would lead to the barrow. And true enough, at the end of the path was a ancient nordic wall with a gateway and behind it wastwo huge rocks leaning against each other among some nordic stone pillars and between the leaning rocks was the cave entrance. 

Going inside was an option but he didn't like the idea of walking into a trap. But figuring out a plan of action had to wait as his belly started to grumble. He gathered some firewood and picked out a spot a bit to the far left of the cave. While he wasn't hidden from anyone walking outside of the cave, he had a nice lookout over it and he would be able see anyone walking out before they would spot him. The wind wasn't blowing so lighting the fire wasn't much of a hassle and when the fire had shaped up he rolled up his backpack and put some of the meat on a sharp stick and started to roast it over the fire. He ate as much as he could as the meat was plentiful. Which was also a downside as he had only taken so much as he expected to trade it all off for something lighter. He moved some of the meat from the backpack to another smaller bag he kept alongside the backpack, the bag actually used to store food. As he sat there eating the meat he contemplated how to manage the logistics. When he was filled on the meat he still had some left that didn't fit into the food bag, and while having lots of food was nice in a way, it was also a burden to carry around. He then got an idea of what to do with the extra meat. He sharpened another stick and impaled the meat on it and the one he had just used. Put them over the fire and slowly started to roast them as he picked up his mortar and some herbs he had in his pocket. While it wouldn't be as potent as with an alchemy lab, he had learnt the skill to practice alchemy with the bare minimum of tools available. When the meat was done he poured the little concoction over it all. A nice little paralysis poison that while not freezing the victim completely, it would cause severe movement and speech problems. He leaned the stick against a rock near the fire and walked away and hid behind another rock further away. Bandit life was tough and free roasted meat was certainly something they wouldn't say no to. Now it was only to wait. But it could take a while so he tried to make comfortable where he now was crouching among the rocks. 

 

"No, let us go! Where are you taking us?" He heard coming from the cave some time later.

 

"Shut it, lizard. That's the tenth time you've asked."

 

"I told you we should have just killed them."

 

"Go ahead and be my guest. I'm sure Lilith wouldn't mind. Go ahead, asshole!" said an Orc in scaly spiked armor. The attire sure enough looked like dragon scale armor, though the coloring wasn't all the same, and the patch work was lazy. The Nord alongside him was dragging a sniveling little argonian girl, maybe sixteen winters in the snow behind him by her shirt.

 

"Bah, you know I'm just kidding. After what she did to Hamren..."

 

"Shh! Don't talk about that. I've still got nightmares...to be honest, ever since that happened, I've been thinking about leaving this place. It's getting too crazy for me. But then...the gold..." the Orc looked down at his dragonscaled gauntlet in disgust. "This is far and beyond what I ever expected to be doing, but at least all we have to do is sell the armor. The people around these parts are so stupid, they'll believe anything! Though I have to admit, the armor is a good likeness.

 

"Yea, and who cares anyway? These Argonians are no better than beasts themselves. If it gets me gold, and I don't have to see it, then so be it. Hey, is that a fire up ahead? We didn't post any scouts right?"

 

"Not that I'm aware of. Be careful, could be some stupid adventurer not knowing we're here. Watch these two while I investigate," said the Orc bandit. He dropped his bound Argonian prisoner by the Nord, then drew a steel great sword, which he dragged on the ground behind him as he approached the camp with the cooking meat. "Hey, come here! Free food!"

 

Stalks tried to stretch his legs as much as he could behind the rock while getting seen, he felt a bit stiff from having crouched for some time. He waited while the bandits began feasting on the wolf meat. Somehow he didn't blame them, he would have done the same if he found some cooked food right there for the taking. Fortunate for him at least was that he didn't need to worry that much about poisons, something the bandit's would fins themselves much more unfortunate about. A couple of minutes went by and when they began burping and throwing the sticks on the fire, he pulled his spear from his back and ran forth. As expected the bandits were slow to notice him and slower to react. The closest bandit, the nord, got the lower end of the spear through the throat and the orc had just gotten up when Stalks pounced him to the ground with the middle of the spear. Now crouching right above the orc, he pressed the middle of the spear against his throat while holding his head right above the orc's, opening the needle filled mouth and hissing lowly at the bandit. "Hello." Stalks then said a low and slightly amused voice. 

 

The Orc grew furious from his vicissitude, but from the spear pressed upon his throat, the Orcimer could not do much for the time being but look at the ugly Argonian's mug. Irony. "Screw you, lizard. Send me to Ashpit already. I've already killed plenty of your kind, hehehe."

 

"Not just yet. You are going to tell me everything you know about what I am to expect inside that cave." 

 

"Ha! And risk Lilith's wrath? Nothing you do to me can be worse than what she'd do. If you're looking to take her down...good luck, lizard."

 

"Well you wont have to worry about her. You tell me all I want to know and your passing will be quick." 

 

The Orc was about to tell him to **** off, but then he decided it would be best to lie instead. "Fine, what is it you want to know, lizard?"

 

"Everything." 

 

The orc began slowly creeping his hand to a nearby rock as he spoke. "Okay, thanks for being specific. Well, there's bandits inside...lots of 'em further in, lightly guarded. You could probably just walk in without much trouble." 

 

Stalks put the foot down on the orc's hand, not for the rock but to cause pain. The only thing that kept his hand from getting impaled on the claws was the leather boot. "Layout. Numbers. Equipment. Supplies. Traps. That everything."

 

After the Orc snarled, he started thinking about the things the Argonian was asking. Finally, being tired of the predicament and seeing no way out, the Orc let out an ear splitting cry, then he opened his mouth to reveal his large tusks fully before finally clenching down with them to bite at and eventually chew off his own tongue. "Gggllaahhh!" Gurgling in pain was all he could manage before he spat the end of the blood covered muscle at Stalks.

 

Slightly annoyed by the outbreak, Stalks let go of the spear and put both his hand against the jugulars at the orc's throat and pressed. A few seconds later the orc had passed out and he tilted the orc so lied on the side so the blood and tongue wouldn't suffocate him. Standing up he drew a heavy sigh. He then began the routine procedure of checking the pockets and inspecting the armor. He found about twenty Septims in the pockets but nothing else. At a closer inspection of the armor, he noticed that the scaled were quite small for having belonged to a dragon. It took him a few seconds to realize who the scales actually belonged to, but that was mostly because the nature of these scales were slightly different from his.

Then he suddenly remembered the argonian girl. He looked in the direction where she had been but she was gone. Stalks shrugged and dragged the unconscious orc towards the fire. Well there he first began with feeding the fire some more wood before undressing the orc down to only the pants and pulling out his tongue and washing away some blood. Then grabbed the nord's iron axe and the orc's iron dagger and placed them into the fire and sat down on the orc's chest. More waiting. 

 

The orc didn't take too long to wake up, which when he did, he was clearly disappointed, as he expected to be dead. And to add insult to injury, an Argonian was now sitting on his chest. Realizing that, the Orc tried biting at the Argonian's leg fruitlessly, thrashing around as he did.

 

"Couldn't you have stayed asleep a little bit longer for the iron to heat up? Anyway, no tongue doesn't stop an interrogation. You can still nod and shake your head. So I'm simply going to rephrase my questions to yes or no. So..." He punched the the orc hard in the belly to get him to stop thrashing around. He then hauled up a vial from a pocket, uncorked it and held it up to the orc's nose and quickly pulled it back so he wouldn't fall asleep again. Now with the calmed orc he pulled off his boots. Turning around so he sat astride atop the orc he stomped his feet on the orc's hands so they got impaled on the claws. "Are the intial guard group more than two?" Stalks said as he pulled forth his dagger, contemplating on where to start. 

 

The Orc seemed to know what the Argonian was about to do. Though he didn't look that scared despite that. The Orc stayed silent having a thoughtful expression while he did. 

 

"Not going to answer?" Stalks put the against his chest with the flat side lying against the skin. Then stuck it under the skin and slowly started cut up an entry point for the actual skinning. He made the entry point a dozen inches long and ran diagonally towards the shoulder. Once the entry point was done he pulled back the dagger and held it visibly to the orc. "A bit ironic isn't it? You know what's coming if you don't answer. So answer my question. Are the first guard group into the cave more than two?" 

 

The Orc predictably bawled out from his harrowing torment, thrashing around even more before, but of course it was once again fruitless. Against his will, his head nodded violently, saying 'yes'.

 

"Good. Now are there any traps activated by pressure plates or wires on the floor?" 

 

The Orc looked at him sternly and got another slightly thoughtful expression. After another moment the Orc kept his silence and closed his eyes, looking to be readying himself for the next cut.

 

"Not going to answer?" He slid the tip under of the dagger under the skin and then pulled it back to clean off the blood and put it back in the sheath. Instead he reached for the iron dagger that had been lying in the fire. Holding the blade with the flat side almost touching the skin while the tip sunk deeper in under the skin has he started the flay the orc alive. When he removed the the dagger and put it back in the fire he had cut a triangle with one side still attached to the body. Stalks grabbed the corner near the middle of the chest and pulled it to the side so the piece of skin now hanged at the orc's side, with the scorched flesh underneath now exposed to the elements." Should I skin the rest of you and turn you into leather armor?" 

 

The orc's neck muscles were bulging out so much during the flaying from his violent clenching, that it looked as though he'd bust a blood vessel. During the torture, he made sure to shake his head to say no, so it seemed forced out of him as the truth to stop the torment.

 

Stalks knew that barrows usually have quite a number of traps, so he had expected a nod. Maybe these were disarmed by the bandits but there were also a chance that the orc was lying. "Do you have much gold stored in the hideout?"

 

The orc nodded eagerly, much more eagerly than he had been at answering any of the other questions. 

 

"Are there people more well armed than iron or steel weapons and your leather armor. Or should I say 'dragonscale armor'?"

 

The Orc nodded his head anyway, with the look in his eyes like if that question bored him. 

 

"Are there any archers?" 

 

"Mmhmm!" said the Orc, shaking his head impatiently.

 

Stalks now sat pondering what more he could ask but with the format of his questions being limited, he couldn't come up with anything. "Well then.." He said as he lifted his feet while shaking the hands off from the claws. Once he got up he put one foot on the open wound on the orc's chest while picking up the axe from the fire. "A quick death was it." He raised the axe but then he moved the foot from the chest to the leg. And the axe fell, cutting off the foot and the heat from the axe scorched the stump on the leg so there wouldn't be any bleeding from it. "But that was before you bit off your tongue and I knew what your armor was made from." 

 

The Orc predictably wailed out into the open air, almost howling from his senses being overwhelmed with white hot pain. He started to laugh hysterically even, and eventually he blacked out. Though before he did, he managed to get one last glimpse that gave him another reason to laugh at his predicament, and it came in the form of several archers nearby; bandits who overheard the screaming.

 

Stalk also noticed the archers and cursed his clumsiness for not remembering to gag the orc. Quickly throwing the axe at the bandit to give them a distraction he then quickly grabbed a potion from his pockets that was reserved for emergency situations only. Drinking it he suddenly disappeared from sight as he became invisible. Drawing his spear he quickly walked in a half circle towards the bandit's as light footed as he could. 

 

"Hnh, maybe Bruggash wasn't an idiot after all, looks like whoever did him in was just clever, judging from that potion... form a circle! Swords out!" said a Dunmer bandit. It was evident that not all of them were as idiotic as the doltish green brute who lay unconscious on the ground.

 

Stalks walked further to the side and barely managed to get outside the circle that was forming. Now with the bandit's trying to circle him in where he wasn't he decided to sneak around and towards the cave. Luckily he still had most of his belongings with him but the boots were still by the fire. And when he came into the cave he wished that he had managed to grab them before drinking the potion. The first part of the cave was a long stretch with ice covered walls and cold stone and dirt on the ground. When the cave entrance was almost out of sight when the potion wore off. He gave a quick glance over the shoulder before disappearing behind a corner. When the small passage ended he came into a much larger room. The barrow entrance was underground and the large building with two stairs separated by small wall in the middle and with two large enough to walk on the sides along the cave walls. And at the top of the stair was a massive arch typical for nordic barrows. 

There were no bandit's in sight but that might change soon when the bandits outside give up their search for him. He began ascending the stairs as fast as he could without scraping the claws against the stone. Once atop the stairs he saw the doorway leading into the barrow. Inside the doorway was a room with two empty sarcophagi but draugr corpses in sight. In the middle of the room was grate. He put on foot on it to see if it was a trap but it didn't open. Looking down the grate he could see the floor of what appeared to be another room about two stories down. Then a bandit, a nord male in a patchy argonian scale armor, appeared down there and he seemed to be quite drunk or ill as he stumbled forth. He reached high for something to grab as he began to fall and his hand gripped a large ring that was hanging by a chain at the edge of the pitfall. Right beneath where Stalks where now standing. The grate fell apart to the sides and Stalks how had been having most of his weight on the foot that had been on the grate, now found himself quickly losing balance. He quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to regain balance enough to prevent the fall but he did manage to begin turning around when he fell. Turning half a circle he let go of the spear with one hand and latched onto the the ledge with the other. But it wasn't a good grip and he was literally hanging by the claws.

Looking down on the bandit to see if the bandit had noticed anything he saw that the nord was instead very busy with throwing up his belly's content on the floor. Feeling the grasp of the ledge fading quickly Stalks made the split second decision and let go while aiming to land on the nord. The nord was still bending over when Stalks landed on him with on foot on the shoulder and the other near the rear. When the nord was pressed to the ground he could both hear and feel the crack on the nords spine as it took most of the impact. And the nord's body wasn't something steady to land on either so soon after the spine broke on the nord, Stalks lost balance as well and fell to the ground. The joy of surviving the fall and not landing on his own spear was soon replaced by the fear of that someone might have heard it all. Standing with with the spear ready he listened carefully for any sound of footsteps, not even noticing that he had one foot in the pool of vomit. When he was certain that no one was coming he looked down on his foot in disgust as he lifted it up from the vomit. He scrapped off most of the filth on the dead nord's back and then moved on in what he hoped was the right direction. He soon came to another corridor and this one was broader and had finer walls. Passing through the nice corridor he found it leading into a room to the right. He peeked around the corner to see what and who was in there.

The room turned out to be much larger than what one would have expected, given the size of the previous corridors of the occupied barrow. It was a very large stone area, with one big staircase leading down to the bottom level in the middle and two walkways on each side going alongside the walls up to a plateau were a curved wall with strange lettering on it, almost like a grandiose gravestone etched into the wall. That wasn't the most interesting thing in the room, however. What was, was the row of tables in the middle of the room, and the evidently new shackles on the walls and what they held rows and rows of deceased and flayed Argonian bodies. Males and females and even some hatchlings. Not all of them were fully skinned. Some were only partly excoriated, seemingly for patches of the darker scales they possessed. 

In the middle of this abhorrently lurid scene was something even more shocking than the carcasses that decorated it. The presence of a lone woman tearing into the corpse of what appeared to be one freshly killed victim with black tools, ancient in appearance. The woman was staring at the body intensely, but was otherwise calm. She had a woolen cloth around her mouth, presumably to protect her mouth from any juices that might squirt up in her face. She was very much a Dunmer from her appearance. Piercing red eyes graced her fiercely intense glare, and her long black hair draped over the side of her face, showing off the other shaven side, and her elven ear, pierced with a small golden forked ring at the upper tip. Her armor was also peculiar, as it was different from the ones worn by the bandits before. The scales for one were much larger, and the patchwork was masterful, and the scales shared a uniform bronze, almost golden color. The woman was a bit of a sight to behold. Attractive, by human standards. If not for the bodies strewn about, one would not guess what activities she got up to. Lilith was starting to pick up the intensity of her tearing, and now she even started humming as she worked. Suddenly, the body she was cutting into reared up from its position on the table, and the Argonian let out such a horrid wail, that even the draugr that once roamed this barrow may have been taken aback if they were still shifting about to hear it. Lilith continued to hum however and she forced the victim back down, then cast a paralysis spell through his body, forcing him into the rigid state he was once in before from shock. The more abrasively invasive cuts made it unlikely that he'd rear up again.

After he had figured out what the armor the orc had been wearing was made of, half the things he saw didn't surprise him. Disgusted but not really surprised. He had heard stories of what some land-striders sometimes did to his kind, especially the dark elves of Morrowind. He leaned back from the doorway and sheathed his spear and took the bow from his back and drew a steel arrow. With the arrow readied and pointing down, he took a deep breath and took a step out into the doorway for a clear shot, took aim and let the arrow go.

 

Lilith didn't move from the spot she was in at all, so the arrow hit its mark directly where her heart would be. Though when her body jerked back from the hit, all she did was stop her cutting. Dropping the tools she was so feverishly working with, Lilith looked up at where the arrow came from, then pulled down her woolen cloth. "You know, I've been waiting for a chance to really test out this armor... I've been trying to replicate the quality, but with no success. The Nords don't seem to mind however, or at least they don't know any better. With the rise of the dragons, they're willing to take just about anything that even looks dragon-like for the novelty of it." Lilith pulled the arrow out from the thick scaly hide, then shoved it into the throat of the Argonian on the table. She didn't seem surprised by her guest at all.  "So, I saw you with my spell, and I saw the shape of a tail. Are you shadow-scale? Sent for me by the Dark Brotherhood? Do you serve Sithis? I serve the Madgod, so I have already won. Or have you come to volunteer for my pet project?"

 

Stalks had already readied another arrow when he saw what had stopped the previous one. Aiming this time for her head. "Neither." He said in a calm voice when he let the arrow go. 

 

Lilith smirked, then picked up the corpse she was mutilating with a telekinesis spell to block the arrow. After that, she threw the body towards his face with it before drawing her ebony sword from her back, a one handed blade. Jumping to the side he managed to dodge the body and he drew a third arrow. He took aim while trying to predict her movement and sent his last ranged attempt at taking her down flying. 

 

The arrow was shot as she shot the body, so this time the arrow did wound her. It skidded along her outstretched arm, the scales actually aiding it in its journey, then it ricocheted off from her limb, and past her head, cutting part of her ear. In her adrenaline heightened state, she hadn't felt it and she continued to throw bodies in his direction. "There's something I want to show you... a gift from the madgod! I saw a vision...of his time in the Shivering Isles!"

 

"I don't care about you visions or your Madgod." Stalks shouted back in annoyance as he dodged body after body, hoping her magicka would soon run out. 

 

"Are you sure? You'll like it! He showed me a vision of a room, just like this one! And a fighter brave, just like you...green! Just like you....though he was an Orc. And do you know what happened to that Orc?" She finally stopped casting her spells, though it was probably not for running low on magicka. "I'll show you. For the Madgod provides, and he provided me with the location of a most interesting piece of architecture..." Suddenly, the Dunmer raised her hands with her blade in the air, and they began to glow a bright blue. When she dropped her hands, the wave of magicka swept through the entire room, though at first, nothing happened. A few moments later, all of the bodies within the room began to shift with life once more, even the ones shackled to the walls.

 

"Oh come on." He shouted and now he was really annoyed. He reached for an arrow but soon found that the quiver was empty. Cursing loudly in Jel he put the bow stowed the bow away and drew his spear instead. With the spear ready he charged the woman while trying to trample down any bodies that hadn't fully risen. 

 

Lilith pushed two nearby bodies in front of her, laughing as though possessed by a daedra, then she ran past the horde of shifting bodies, adult and younglings alike to a small room with an ascending wooden staircase. Before she could be pursued, she pulled a chain from inside that made a steel barred door fall and lock into place behind her. "Bye bye, my sweet lizard. Have fun feeding your kinsmen!"

 

Seeing as the chain opening the door on his end was broken he immediately turned around to see the now fully risen and aware of their surroundings. The first undead to try to attack him was a short youth and Stalks made the crazy decision to run towards the horde of undead and jumped on the youth's head, burying the claws on the foot a little bit into the head to not slip on the footing. Then the next step landed on another taller undead argonian's head and he kept jumping from head to head for three more undead he trampled on till he made a last desperate jump to the plateau where the circled wall with the big strange text was. Letting go of the spear to free his hands he managed to grab the ledge barely but with the adrenaline pumping he quickly managed to pull himself up. Looking down he saw the undead horde making their way up the stairs and the bodies that had been thrown up the stairs were now making their way across the walkways on the sides. Seeing as the undead now came charging from the sides he also saw an opportunity. The middle was now clear and he waited till most of the flayed ones were just a feet from reaching him when jumped down, grabbed his spear and made a quick dash for the doorway he came in through. He ran all he could down the corridors and up some stairs and all the time the undead horde could be heard behind him. He met a couple of bandits in a room with a wooden staircase and a small stone bridge. The bandits were standing on the small bridge and they first drew their weapons and got ready to attack Stalks but when the horde appeared behind him they froze. Stalks didn't care and rushed up the stairs and pushed them down from the bridge to serve as a delay for the undead as ran across it. It bought him some seconds of time as the undead shifted focus to the bandits but as soon as they were dead they went back to chasing Stalks.

When he reached the entrance of the barrow he rushed down the large stairs and as he did he saw the several bandits coming back through the icy cave. The dunmer that had ordered them before when Stalks had sneaked around them started yelling: "He's in here! Ready your arrows and take aim." The bandits managed to pull their arrows from their quivers when the horde came rushing out of the barrow. "Run! I mean fire! No run!" The dunmer shouted frantically. 

 

A few of the bandits managed to send an arrow flying into the horde before they were consumed by fear like the rest and started running. Stalks ducked a little as the arrows flew above his head and then joined the bandits' run for their lives. As they ran Stalks used his tail to trip a couple of bandit that ran besides so they could slow down the horde. As with the bandits on the stone bridge it bought a few seconds of time but they were still chasing them. When they reached the exit of the cave Stalks had proven to be a bit faster than all the other bandits who were all at least a few feet behind. Making a quick little detour to his campfire he picked up his boots in the haste and kept running down the dirt path with bandits and undead in tow. When he hit the the big road he saw a large band of Stormcloaks walking towards him in strict lines. Waving his arms in the air with the spear in one hand and the boots in the other must have been an odd sight, he had never felt so lucky in his entire life. "Bandits and undead! Bandits and undead!" He screamed for all his lungs worth as he ran towards them. 

 

The Stormcloaks suddenly drew their weapons, although they hadn't yet seen the threat. The captain leading them was about to question Stalks, thinking he was a bandit trying to pull the wool over their eyes, but that soon changed when they heard screaming from the barrow. At first, they froze and hesitated just like the bandits at the sight of scaleless and skinless Argonian undead, but as they got nearer, they readied their blue shields and formed up in a line. "Charge!" The female captain said. Though it was more like a careful march, given no one wanted to fall victim to the horde.

The bandits who ran from the undead didn't even have time to think when the Stormcloaks came and cut them down along with the shifters behind them, though it was really a mercy granted to them. The horde fought fiercely, but without armor and weapons, they didn't stand much of a chance and were quickly reduced to piles of ash before too much longer. Once the last of the things were finally cut down, they all started to turn towards Stalks, their suspicion returning from before. The captain walked up to Stalks now and removed her full faced helmet, revealing a blonde freckled woman with a braided ponytail. "What in the hell was that about? You're not a necromancer, are you?"

 

With the spear was sheathed and the boots lying on the ground he held his hands against the knees for support, breathing heavily as he was catching his breath. "Lilith the bandit... raised the undead. I'm just a bounty hunter." He reached into a pocket and pulled out the paper the steward had given him about Lilith's bounty and held it up to the captain, hoping that it would work as proof for what he had just said.

 

The captain took the bounty from him angrily, then looked back at him, then to what was hordes of skinned Argonians. There were reports of Argonians specifically being attacked by her band. And they never could get them, they were too evasive. "What was she doing with them?"

 

"Take a closer look on that bandit's armor." He pointed at a bandit corpse and then straightened up his back but his breathing was still heavy. 

 

She signaled with a nod for one of the men to go check. When the man took a look, she heard him groan with disgust. "It's not really dragonscale armor... It's Argonian scale armor..."

 

"Gods... I was afraid he'd say that... my cousin came in with a suit of that a week ago. I knew it was fake, but... he paid almost four hundred gold coins for that. I'm guessing Lilith escaped?" asked the captain.

 

"Aye. Once I've caught my breath, I think I'm going back up there to see if I can't get that door she escaped through opened." He picked up the boots began putting them on. "And if you don't mind. I would like if you reported this to the steward or the Jarl. See what you can do about the armors she sold. And get the bounty raised."

 

"Maybe if I'm lucky I can get it raised throughout Skyrim. This shit should not be allowed to happen anywhere else. I'll have my men search the barrow myself, we'll handle it from here for now citizen."

 

"Sure you will. But I'm still looking to collect." He adjusted the boots so they sat comfortably. "I will try to not get in the way." He then added, trying to be reassuring. 

 

"Mmm, fine. You found and uprooted her hideout, so you deserve that much. Lets go and be quick about it."

 
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Avitus Agrippa,

 

 

Two and a Half years Ago

 

 

"Attention" Said Legate Agrippa Avitus, glancing around at the assembled soldiers in the mess hall. Clearly not hearing him, he raised his voice, and yelled out aggressively "Legionaries stand at attention!!!"

 

 

Each and every one of them stopped what they were currently doing, got out of their seats, straightened their backs, and saluted the officer, with a tide of worried,

 

 

"Legate, sir." â€˜s

 

 

The imperial legionary strode forward, clad in full battle gear. He wore straight steel imperial heavy armor, along with a red tunic underneath. He had armored greaves and gauntlets, also carry with him underneath his arm a steel imperial officer helm, which had a horse hair mane painted red. At his side was an ancient looking imperial gladius, which had the words "Lupus ovina" carved onto its blade, along with a steel dagger. He spoke in a clear and commanding voice,

 

 

"Most of you've heard the rumor High King Torggy, Lord of Skyrim, has been assassinated. Unfortunantley, those rumors are true. I've just gotten word that he was murdered by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm."

 

 

The military silence broke, and the crowd started to mutter among themselves, but were stopped by Avitus raising his hand warily,

 

 

 

"That's not all. Ulfric has declared himself High King, and splintered Skyrim." That caused a huge uproar, with soldiers raising there voices. Agrippa had to calm them down again,

 

 

"His Majesty, Emperor Titus II Mede, has deployed parts of the sixth legion to crush the usurper, and has ordered General Fury-Sword, along with half of the second,  to the Bruma border, due to the likely hood of riots from the local nords..  Including us. We are to leave right away."

 

 

That did it, everyone in the room began to rush from the room, intending to head to the barracks to get outfitted.

 

 

 

***

 

 

"You are not going." Agrippa said, with his voice practically oozing anger. His wife, Maria shook her head, giving him a pleading look, "It's not your decision Agrippa, i've already requested my old position back, General Tullius accepted it."

 

 

He put his arms up in annoyance,

 

 

"It's only been three months. Three months since you gave birth to Ephemia. I'm not just going to let you enter that warzone." Maria gave him a slight smile, and put her hand to his shoulder, "Your making too much of a big deal. General Tullius assured me he wouldn't be sending me to a frontline position. I'll just be with a small unit of men in Whiterun, which is officially neutral. I wont be any danger. I would never leave you and Ephie, you know that."

 

 

Two years, and one month ago,

 

 

"Titus Mede II is dead,"

 

 

"What!?" Yelled out Legate Avitus, who was busy writing a requisition form. Avitus's second, Tribune Artorias nodded his head solemnly,

 

 

"Assassinated. Amaund Moitre, count of Sutch, has taken over." Avitus got out of his seat, shaking his desk, "We need to speak to General Fury-sword immediately."

 

 

Artorias gave him a sad look, as he stretched his hand forward, showing a sealed scroll. Avitus looked at him, and grabbed it rather hastily, after noticing the seal of the 4th legion. After opening it, he scanned,

 

 

To Legate Avitus Agrippa, Second Legion

 

 

It is my regret to inform you, of your wife, Tribune Marie Agrippa's passing.  She was killed by Rebel forces during the Siege of Whiterun. I...I dont knowing anything behind the circumstances of her death, except she was with the medical corps when she was felled. You and your daughter will receive compensation.

 

 

Yours, General Gaius Tullius, Fourth Legion,

 

 

Avitus rammed his fist into the wall, screaming in rage, and before the Prefect could do anything, he turned over his desk.

 

 

 

****

 

 

Bruma

 

 

One and Half years ago

 

 

"Freedom-"

 

 

The rioter was cut off by a pilum embedding itself into the man's throat.  Avitus drew his Gladius, while holding his shield up in his right hand. Everything was chaos. His Cohort was being overwhelmed by the sheer number of nords. The winter blizzard, along with his helmet obstructed his vision, but he could see bodies among the streets everywhere, including both rioters and legionaries.

 

 

Filthy savages.

 

 

Another one, a nord clad in hides ran forward, attempting to bring his axe down on Avitus, who quickly brought up his tower shield to block the strike. The axe landed on the steel with a thud. Avitus quickly slashed at the man with his Gladius. The nord side stepped away from the legion officer, while shouting,

 

 

"Arkay take you!!!!." He ran forward again, this time tackling Avitus to the ground, using his full body weight. Avitus landed hard, along with full weight of his armor. The nord roared , sending his salvia onto Avitus's furry filled, he tried smashing his axes head into Avitus, whom's head avoided the blow. Still holding onto his steel Gladius, Avitus stabbed his blade into the man's exposed throat. With a growl, the nord let out a last breath of air, before falling limp. Avitus with a yell threw the corpse off his body, Standing tall, he shouted,

 

 

"Hold this position-†An arrow found it's mark into Avirtus's shoulder, causing him to sputter out random words, and knocked him back. He grimly grabbed the arrow's shaft, finding it not buried deep into his flesh, he ripped it out.  Scanning the battlefield, he could see his troops struggling against the bulk of the rebel force.

 

 

So this is the end...

 

 

A large nord, clad in chainmail strode forward with a nordic greatsword in hand, apparently intending to finish the imperial soldier, but stopped as a black arrow entered into his chest, sending him tumbling into the ground.

 

 

"For the Legion, for the Empire!!!", could be heard, along with the sound of trumpets.  Suddenly the rioters began to withdraw, as dozens of legionaries charged from behind Avitus, bearing the banners of the sixth legion. A man with greyish-black hair, was in the front line, clad in the gold armor of an imperial general, having a customized hint of purple on his chest piece. Beside him, was a very tall, bulky man, clad in a pitch black leathercoat/dark hood, who was carrying a drawn bow. Her muttered quietly,

 

 

"It seems we arrived in the nick of time Marius." The man, who Avitus now knew as Marius Imperius, general of the sixth legion, strode forward duel-wielding two imperial shortblades. "Men, kill these rebel scum in the name of the Dragon. Forward."

 

 

***

 

 

Currently

 

 

"Dispose of this treachery, General," Legate Avitus said, crossing his arms.

 

 

"You dont speak to me like that, Legate." Said General Fury-Blade, getting angry. Avitus aggressively spoke, "We're soldiers. We follow orders. You followed your orders when Amaund was in power, you follow orders when his daughter is in power."

 

 

"Dales? She isn't anything but a girl. A weak girl who whores around."

 

 

"General!!! She is the Empress. You will treat her majesty with respect.†The general laughed darkly,

 

 

“She obviously has no respect for herself. You’ve heard the rumors haven’t you? She’s a lesbian ****.â€

 

 

“What her majesty does in her spare time is no concern to me and should be no concern to you. What reasons would you have to replace her? With who? Tullius thought the same, and look what happened to his miserable head.

 

 

“I won’t make the same mistake-“

 

 

Avvitus cut him off, “You shouldn’t be making this mistake at all. Mark my words, “sirâ€, this will end in your beheading if you choose to follow this path.â€

 

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Gracchus, Dales, Maori, Tacitus

Skingrad & the Imperial City

Morning to Afternoon

 

Gracchus woke from a wholesome sleep, his body rejuvenated from yesterday's bath. He'd also gone to bed early, so early he rose, the bright orange sphere just now peeking it's head over the eastern horizon. He dressed quickly, putting on his underclothes and a simple pair of pants and a collared shirt, washing his face in the basin and packing his things, before he left to breakfast.

 

As he passed by the High Admiral's room, he saw that Tacitus was also awake, but had yet gotten dressed.

 

"I'm off to breakfast, if you'd like to join," Gracchus said, peeking through the slightly open door.

 

"I'll be down in a moment, let me finish getting ready," Tacitus replied quite gruffly. He was still visited by nightmares, and hadn't slept as well as the general.

 

Gracchus went on down the hall, stopping in front of Maori's room. He knocked lightly, so that it wouldn't wake the elf if he still slept.

 

Maori had gotten used to sleeping in short periods due to the dangers of the wilds of Valenwood, but also do to his own regretful dreams. So he hadn't slept much, but he was still well rested, spending most of the night thinking while resting his eyes. Hearing the knock, he arose, already dressed, then said, "Yes? Is it a woman? Hehe."

 

"Gods I hope not, or my whole life's been a lie. General Ceno, in case you couldn't guess," Gracchus said through the still shut door.

 

"Why don't you let me in, or I'll get my men to busy it down," he then joked.

 

After a few seconds, there was clicking from the other side of the door, then the elf swung it open. "Just once, just once I'd like for it to actually be a woman. Come in...." he said with a sigh.

 

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of girls for you in the capital. Speaking of which, you better get to packing, we're leaving before lunch for the Imperial City. Me, you, and Tacitus have a date with the Empress. I've got my own news, and you two get to tell her about the grand escape," Gracchus said, standing in the doorway.

 

"I get to meet the Empress huh? That aught to be interesting. I'm already good to go, I'm used to having to travel quickly. We've gotta get some of that steak on the go though before we leave."

 

"I'm headed down to breakfast, so you can join me if you like. We can order some steak while we're there," Gracchus said, backing into the hallway, were he saw Tacitus walking towards him.

 

"All packed up?" the general asked.

 

"Yeah, let's get some chow. He paint face, you ready?" Tacitus asked, peeking into Maori's room much the way Gracchus had his.

 

"Paint this," he said, pointing at his crotch while grinning. "Lets make it quick, I'm excited to see that giant dick up close." How appropriate for the last Emperor they had. Wonder what this one's like. "This Empress. She anything like her father?"

 

Gracchus glanced at Tacitus, and they both chuckled.

 

"Not like her father at all," Gracchus said, still laughing.

 

"She murdered her father, is the thing. Brutally, so they say," Tacitus added.

 

"Ah, sounds like my kind of Empress. So she's a warrior, then? Good. A no nonsense Empress is what you need," said Maori.

 

This time it was full blown laughter from the general and admiral, Tacitus even grabbing a stitch in his side, while Gracchus wiped away a stray tear.

 

"Not quite...for one, she's no warrior, actually no more than a young woman. Also she-" Gracchus was interrupted by Tacitus, who out it more bluntly than the general would have.

 

"Is a lesbian. Or so the rumors say. The rumors also say she's somewhat promiscuous. So no ideas, lover boy," Tacitus said, aiming a light hearted quick at Maori's groin.

 

Gracchus was thankful Tacitus addressed Dales' sexuality as mere rumor, even though the general knew it to be fact. Much easier on him if he ever had need to deny the claims, as rumors could be refuted where facts could not.

 

Maori's eyes darted from the admiral to the general back and forth to see if they were pulling his leg, but the laughing was too authentic for that. "A young lesbian promiscuous girl walks into the White Gold Tower to slaughter her father. Sounds like a setup for a joke with a punchline went wrong. I'll believe it when I see it." Maori said, ever the skeptic. "In any case, she murdered her father, so that's enough for me to like her, I think."

 

"Well, I'm glad the Bosmer approves, who knows what we'd do if he didn't!" Tacitus lightheartedly exclaimed, turning his back and walking out into the hallway.

 

"Come on, I don't know about you but I'm hungrier than a horde of trolls," Gracchus said, following the High Admiral.

 

"Yea..." Maori said, still thinking on their description of their Empress. Surely a general and admiral wouldn't slander their Empress that way unless it were true? If so...."This is a strange place indeed." he said as he followed behind the hero general.

 

Downstairs, a hearty meal of sausage, flat flour cakes with sweet maple syrup and eggs met the trio. They began to devour them, while Gracchus sent up a few soldiers to grab their things, so they could leave as soon as they finished the meal, which was soon over. As the waitress came to gather their plates, Gracchus caught her attention.

 

"If you want those steaks, nows your chance," he said to Maori, motioning towards the waitress.

 

"Don't take too long, I'd like to get home so I can see how many ships the bureaucrats sunk while I was away," Tacitus added cynically.

 

Maori turned to the waitress and smiled, saying that he indeed wanted the steaks from before with it. "Make it four, and here's a tip," he said, placing a small pouch of gold on the table along with an extra six on the side. "Should have brought some beetles to go with it, but oh well. Would have made a great side dish."

 

"I'll take your word for it." Gracchus said, his nose wrinkling up at the thought. A soldier, one of his, approached them, casting the occasional glance at Maori.

 

"General, we have the bags packed and loaded, sir."

 

"Very good, thank you. Go grab a quick bite to eat, so we can leave as soon as we finish," Gracchus ordered, sternly but not unkind. "Well, there you have it Mr. Meridius, we're almost ready to go."

 

"'Bout time. Now if beetle brains would just hurry, we could've left an hour ago. Just like in Valenwood, always waiting on you, Maori," Tacitus obviously joked, leaning back in his chair.

 

"Ha, well in Valenwood, we actually had good reason to wait. Lots of things that can eat you in that place when you're not in a city. Unless you count the Bosmer themselves, but they're obviously not ones to go hunting people to do it. Usually." The waitress came by with his steaks and placed them all in front of him. They obviously were leftovers cooked from the previous day, so they were saltier from being preserved, but that didn't bother the Bosmer as he swiped them all up and placed them in his pack.

 

"Okay, we can leave. Huh, Imperials waiting on my every whim? Now that sure is a twist. I could get used to this, hehe."

 

"Don't get too used to it, I wouldn't be surprised if you were chosen for inspection when we entered the palace. And the guards are very...thorough, if you catch my meaning," Tacitus said with a sly grin, leading the way as the three men exited the inn.

 

Gracchus laughed a little, mounting Lil Ceno who was being held by a soldier, to make it easier to get on. Not that Gracchus needed any help, as he and the dapple gray destrier could practically speak to each other. Beside them were the two horse General Flaccus lent to Tacitus and Maori, all saddled up and ready to ride.

 

"Mount up, and we'll be off," Gracchus said, watching as Tacitus awkwardly got on his steed with one hand. "Isn't that a sight."

 

Maori could sense his horse was a little stressed, probably due to the rough handling of the men. Resting a hand at the beast's head, he gently rubbed it until it gave a satisfying snort and shake of its head. Smiling, he mounted the steed, then said, "Oh are they? Well, so are the Thalmor. I'll make the legion boys regret it too if they get too thorough...you have any idea how bad a fart can be from a carnivorous cannibal?"

 

Tacitus, finally having managed to mount his horse, shook his head and spat at the ground.

 

"Blasted hand, it's good for nothing. As for you breaking wind, I think you did enough of that in Valenwood as well. Thought you were going to kill everything within a mile of camp."

 

"Well maybe if you could keep up, you wouldn't have to smell my back-draft, eh? Hehe. And speaking of keeping up, hya!" Maori took off ahead of the others and stuck his tongue out at Tacitus as his horse galloped past.

 

"The race is on," Gracchus said with a wink, then snapped the reins and dug his heels, spurring Lil Ceno into a sprint.

 

Tacitus however, was very ungainly on the horse, and he had trouble even getting the horse to go.

 

"Go! Onward! Hya! Hya!" he snapped the reins repeatedly, but the horse slowly walked instead of ran. "Gooooo!"

 

**

 

His chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, Lil Ceno came to a stop right outside the palace. Gracchus knew he'd probably catch hell for disturbing the piece, but no on had been injured, at least by him am his horse. Behind him was Maori, who was just beginning to pull up.

 

"That was rather fun! I was sure you would win using your power of animal speech," Gracchus said with a laugh, dismounting in one fluid motion and leading Lil Ceno by the reins to a water trough. "Say, where's Admiral Meridius? He get lost?"

 

Maori was rather embarrassed, but he didn't show it. Obviously this Imperial had a good relationship with his horse. That was something magic and animal commanding couldn't replicate anymore than skill augmenting spells could replicate true talent. Looking behind him, he saw Tacitus finally making his way to them with his horse doing a light jog rather than a gallop. "I think I could run faster than that! Hurry up, you Sload!"

 

"Can it, before I have you arrested for a spy! It's not my fault the horse is defective, he won't run! All he does trot!" Tacitus said. If Maori was embarrassed and didn't show it, Tacitus was angry and wore it all over his face, from his red cheeks to sweaty brow. "How about next time we boat race, then we'll see who's laughing!"

 

"Don't be so sour, Admiral, just be happy he didn't-"

 

Almost as on cue, the horse reared up, then arched his back as he came down and the High Admiral flew very high indeed.

 

Maori shot spittle from his mouth and laughed immediately when the horse decided the Admiral should try his luck at flying. "Quit laying around, Admiral, we've got important business to attend to."

 

"Why don't you, haha, give him a hand, Maori?" Gracchus said with a gut wrenching laugh, his abs growing sore from the thunderous laughter.

 

"I out to hand you an a** kicking, but I think I bruised a few ribs on the fall. Just watch your back Ceno, I'll be comin' for ya," Tacitus said in mock anger, even as his face was beet red.

 

Maori was about to make a joke about 'giving him a hand', but this time he did manage to stop himself from saying yet another bad joke. Though holding it in just made him laugh more. After helping the admiral up to his feet, he took his horse by the reins and guided it off with Maori's own horse. "Okay, lets go now. Enough lollygagging about, Admiral."

 

Tacitus didn't even bother with a thank you, instead just brushing himself off quickly before casting the most hateful glance one could imagine at his horse. He mumbled something, but all Gracchus could make out was the words "new boots," so he didn't respond, stifling a chuckle as he turned on his heel and started towards the door.

 

Inside, a young man, presumably a butler, stood by a door, face blank and hands held behind his back.

 

"Could you take us to the Empress?" Gracchus said, dropping the previous playfulness in his voice.

 

The butler was about to say something, but was interrupted by a cool, professorial voice, "I'm afraid i'll have to frisk you, Lord General Ceno as well as your companions, sir." The man in question wore the white-gold armor of a palace guard, but didn't have the standard issue helmet. His hair was jet black, with a few grey spots here and there. His most distinct feature, however, was his very dark blue eyes, which under the right lighting conditions, could appear as dark violet to the untrained eye. He had a cleanly shaven beard, and a huge warhammer on his back. He was flanked by two palace guard. His arms were crossed.

 

"Since when do they frisk generals like Ceno? Is that normal?" Maori asked.

 

"Simply following protocol, sir." He said, raising his eyebrow at the sight of the Bosmer.

 

"Settle down, Maori. I assume it's standard procedure after the two assassination attempts. And before you ask, I didn't tell you because it didn't seem relevant. You too Admiral, although I'm not sure you care either way," Gracchus said as he raised his hands to allow the pat down. "Captain Imperius, it's been a while."

 

Tacitus too adopted the arms raised pose, making no arguments but I pleased all the same.

 

"I'll go first then," Maori said. He had eight or so knives on him, but he left it to the guard to find them all, not wanting to make it easy on him. "Don't get too frisky. You'll regret it...."

 

"I doubt we would want too." Muttered the older man, in a slightly deadpan tone.

 

The officer motioned for the two other men, presumably under his command, to search the Bosmer. They were thorough, and surprisingly quick to discover all of the Bosmer's knives, After double checking, they placed the discovered weaponary in a chest,

 

"When you leave the palace, we'll return your weapons. Not since Skyrim, sir." Captain Esmerdus Imperius said, responding to Gracchus.

 

"So not as long as I thought. I never did get the chance to offer you my condolences for the passing of your brother. Always a sad business, even if we were never on the best of terms towards the end," Gracchus said as the guards frisked him, finding only a dagger in his boot besides his cavalry saber.

 

Chuckling darkly under his breath, the captain said, looking deeply at the wall, "Was hoping it would stop with me being a casket carrier for my brother. Not one month ago, had to do the same service for Maria." He was referring to his daughter, a commander in the the Penitus Occultus.

 

"What happened? This news is grim indeed, yet it somehow must've slipped by me. Again, my sincerest condolences," Gracchus said, while the guards moved to Tacitus, who had his cutlass along with the axe in his satchel, which was confiscated along with the entire bag.

 

"Terrorists, or so I'm told. The new spymaster was less then forthcoming with the details. Some group called Blood Pack, or Blood Wolves. Tried searching up the term, found nothing." He nodded his head at them, "You're clean."

 

"Do you mind leading us to Empress Motierre?" Gracchus asked Captain Imperius. "I'm unsure of where she is, and you know the palace better than I."

 

"Follow me." He said politely, not waiting for them.He took them down a few hallways, "Glorious building, is it not?"

 

"The Ayleids sure knew what they were doing." Maori said.

 

"Quite. Gloriously confusing, as well, even if I've visited numerous times," Gracchus said, following the guard captain.

 

"I have an office here, and I still get lost," Tacitus added in a monotonous voice.

 

"You hail from Valenwood sir?" Captain Imperius said to Maori "I heard the buildings there are made from the living trees, grand and majestic."

 

"That would describe all of Valenwood, but yes. The grandest is as you know, Falinesti."

 

"Must be a magnificent sight to behold. As grand as the imperial palace is, I would not recommend visiting in the dusk or darkness of the night, this place takes a sinsiter edge, and I swear by akatosh, the place is haunted." The captain said nervously.

 

"Haunted? With what I've seen, I wouldn't doubt it," Tacitus said, casting a glance over his shoulder.

 

"I knew a sailor would know when something's up." He glanced around his side carefully "I've heard tales about maids disappearing, and then reappearing the next day with teeth marks strange ghostly moaning, and mysterious rope burns."

 

"Sounds like hogwash. Ghosts have been well studied by mages who can summon them, and if you had ghosts, you'd know. They're not as subtle as people think," Maori said. "My mother was a mage. Conjuration was her specialty. Didn't help her any though when it came down to it."

 

"Well i'm a simple soldier. I keep a fine distance away from the supernatural."

 

"That doesn't sound quite like the ghosts of sailors' tales, but these city ghosts may be different. Who knows what goes on in these halls..." Tacitus said, someone eerily, not knowing what did in fact go on inside the palace.

 

Gracchus, however, suspected something else was at work. "I think there is something at play here, although it may be less supernatural than you believe."

 

"Yeah like what?"

 

"Oh nothing, just a old man mouth's running," Gracchus said, hiding a brief, sly smile.

 

"I bet my mother would agree," Maori said. "Making oneself seem more interesting than one actually is."

 

The captain adopted an amused look,"You are aware, I was the one guarding her door last year General Ceno? And only perverts bring that stuff up in civil conversations." He didn't say who the her was but Grahhcus knew.

 

"I was unaware, but since I am now aware you know to why I speak. I'm sure everyone here does, it is not exactly an Albecias Plebo novel," Gracchus said, referring to the recently famous mystery author, whose partially fictional stories, The Windhelm Butcher and Gold of Sancre Tor captivated Cyrodiil's attention, filling the previously unknown niche of guard-solving-mystery novel. "If it was a mystery, you'd be just the guard to figure it out."

 

"Regardless, the walls here are sound proof. I really doubt someones...ehem part before the epilogue is that loud."

 

"If the gods have any mercy, they'll strike me down before I have to listen to anymore of this," Tacitus said, glancing up at the ceiling. "Nothing? Not even a little fireball or some thunder?"

 

"I'd have to agree, this took a turn for the weird back when we began discussing ghosts, and has only gone rapidly downhill from there," Gracchus added.

 

Captain Imperius chuckled, before raising his hand to stop them. They were at the Empresses's study room, he gently knocked at the door.

 

"Your Majesty?"

 

A voice as cold as steel came from the door, "Yes, Captain Imperius?" The imperial officer cleared his throat, and said "High Admiral Tacticus and General Ceno have returned, your majesty." Her voice didn't change, "Ahhhh, excellent. Please send them in." The Captain opened the door for the group of three.

 

Gracchus led the way, walking into the office of the empress. Bowing, he said, "Your majesty. I have news from Hammerfell, although my trip was rather brief."

 

Tacitus followed, awkwardly bowing as he wasn't as accustomed to it. "Your majesty, I hope my return isn't too much of a shock."

 

The Empress was sitting at her large oak desk. Her blonde hair was messily done, and she had huge black bags under her pale blue eyes, which were stone cold, there was no enthusiasm, or energy on her. She wore a simple grey dress, and no jewelry. In her own way, she would be normally a very attractive person, she however, looked a good deal older then what her age suggested.

 

"General Ceno." She gave him a slight nod, before scanning Tacticus, her face was emotionless as was her voice "I had begun to search for a replacement for you. Glad to see your still among the living...my condolences... for your arm...."

 

"Thank you, although..." Tacitus began to roll the sleeve up, revealing the stump was only at the wrist, "I didn't lose the whole arm, just the hand. As for me being here, you have Maori to thank for that, he helped me escape, otherwise I'd be hidden on the jungle somewhere."

 

"Captured by the dominion eh?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously for a millisecond, before becoming stoic one again. She turned her head to the Bosmer, "Then I thank you sir. Without you, the empire would be lacking it's High Admiral, and I would have to spend three weeks doing the paper work for a replacement."

 

Maori took note of that. It made it sound like it wouldn't have been any more of an inconvenience to her, but he was a little forgiving due to her enervated state. It wasn't at all what he expected to see, but she was young and this was clearly a big job. "So does that mean Tacitus will be receiving a boat and he can go back to work? That's really the only reason I've come and put myself in such out of place surroundings for myself. Any questions I can answer, I'd be glad to if it in some way helps."

 

"As long as Tacticus can handle the position, I see no reason to sack him." She glanced curiously at the Bosmer, "What region was he held in exactly?"

 

"He came from an old Imperial fort they renamed Fort Kalamon, southwest of Elden Root near the border of Elsweyr," Maori said. "From what I can tell, that's where they'll be keeping the high end prisoners from the human provinces. Easy to ship them off to sea from Haven nearby if they have to."

 

"Well, at least one of us knows...all I remember was washing ashore in Elsweyr, then heading west upon capture," Tacitus said with a frown.

 

"Can you mark it on a map for me?" She asked Maori, taking out a medium sized map of Valenwood.

 

Maori pointed a finger at a sort of small traingled point that went from Valenwood's border to Elsweyr's. "Here. It had a decent enough force there when I was there, but from the looks of it, it may be getting set up as a command center. If that's the case, then we got him out at the best time possible. Any longer and there'd be no chance of getting to him. Anyone who goes there now will likely be there for good."

 

She marked it with a pen, "My Spymaster would be eager to know this. Thank you." She gave him a polite nod, "If there's anyway I can repay you?"

 

"No offense, but I recommend you order your spymaster not to try anything. Empire spies are rather easy to spot out, since the Blades are no longer around, and the place is very deep in Dominion territory. I only got in because the place was just being established, and I was stalking their general for months. Oculatus need a few decades of practice as a spy organization before they can reach that caliber again. As for repaying me, nothing really comes to mind, but I thank you for the offer."

 

"My Spymaster would agree with you, the Occultus is highly incompetent." She took out a small bottle of wine and several cups, "Shall you all have a drink?"

 

"No thank you," Gracchus said politely. "I'd rather cut straight to business, if you don't mind."

 

"I'll take one. You have any whiskey? I find wine too fruity for my taste," Tacitus replied.

 

"You want the hardcore stuff?" She put away the fruity beverage, and took out a Cyrdoilic brandy labelled "White Dragon", pouring a glass for the man.

 

Tacitus downed the whole thing in one swig, smiling after it went down. "It's been too long...tastes better than I had hoped."

 

Gracchus pulled a letter from his pocket, setting it on Dales' desk. "For you, your majesty. It's from High General Red-Snow, whom I'm sure you remember."

 

"Been my best friend for the last month." The empress said, taking a swing herself from the bottle. She grabbed the letter from Gracchus and read it,

 

"Yes the Nord who joked about raping my maid."

 

She put it on her desk after a few seconds of reading, "Hmmmm, this is thrice a higher up has recommended your promotion, making friends all over I see."

 

"It does appear that way. As for the mission in Hammerfell, it was resolved rather quickly because the Nords had sent a delegation as well, and seeing how they were on better terms with the Redguards, I left them too speak on behalf of our alliance. It seemed the best decision, and one they agreed with, so I left it at that," Gracchus said plainly, no nonsense in his voice.

 

Maori had to chuckle at that, as well as the comment about Baldur making fun of her maid. "Not surprising though."

 

"And you trust that they will?" She said, her voice having an edge of steel that was uncharacteristic of a girl her age,

 

"Like I said, they are on much better terms than us, and they have recent dealings with them. If you recall, they had a Redguard contingent with them in Skyrim. They also seemed better prepared, as my arrival was rather...unwelcome," Gracchus said, equally as hard as Dales.

 

 

"I dont trust Baldur. I trust you though, so good work. After Mede abandoned Hammerfall, I doubt they would want to engage in a dialouge with us anyways. " Hearing the Bosmer's comment, Dales turned around sharply, and her eyes filled with burning fury, "What do you mean not surprising?! Miku was a strong girl, I find it not funny at all that she was scared out of her wits about what happened in Whiterun."

 

Maori smirked, then said, "I was actually talking about the difficulties the hero general, here had with the Nords. They're a stubborn lot. Redguards...even moreso. They make a cute couple. As for the girl, I mean no disrespect, as I don't know her. But, if she feared rape around the general of the entire Stormcloak army in a city they're defending, one that wants to be defended...well. I'd have to question her common sense."

 

"I trust him, and respect him, and I doubt he'll do anything to harm the alliance. He's smart, and knows better than to start anything now," Gracchus said sternly.

 

Calming down, and adopting her serene and melancholy look like before she said, "Alot of civilians will believe quite bit. They're devoid of common sense. Forgive me for my outburst." She turned her head to Gracchus,

 

"I'll ask you this General, are you sure you want the position? This will be tiring, consuming, and dangerous"

 

"No, actually, I'm not sure. I don't know that I'll be what the Empire needs, I don't know that I won't live up to the overwhelmingly high expectations, I don't know that I will survive to even lead our men. But I do know that I will not falter, that I will give my dying breath to Cyrodiil, and I will remain loyal to the Heartland, or the gods strike me down," Gracchus said, a brief smile flickering across his face and a slight twinkle in his eye.

 

"That was lovely general. Now why don't you pull your skirt up and run along, I'm sure there are some dolls you could play with," Tacitus jokes of course, as he really found Gracchus' intentions to be quite noble.

 

Maori said, "I don't know this man, but my friend that scared your maid is a very smart individual. If he says he's your man, I'd take his word for it. And, I haven't heard of any recent activities from your other generals. Besides going rogue and so on. Seems pretty obvious to me. Especially since loyalty is a problem lately, and this guy's obviously loyal."

 

"Cut the speeches already." She waved her hand, "I was already considering give General Ceno before all these recommendations came in. I however, need to be absoutley sure of your priorities."

 

"My priorities? What priorities could be called into question, your majesty?" Gracchus asked, slightly perplexed. "I'm afraid I'm unsure of what you're asking."

 

"You need to be completely devoted to the job, and to your duties as my top military officer . I will be working you like a packmule, General. In other words very long nights in the office, inspections of the troops, your usual duties times twelve. You will also be expected to interact with the nobility, and the Elder council quite a bit." She let those words sink in before continuing. "You are a lord. My knight of Roses. I've tolerated your...distaste for the nobility, since I know your discomfort for them. But I wont be able to if you accept this position. You will also need to unite all the legions, Lilly has been whispering to me rumors of unrest and Rebellion in the various legions of the imperial army, you'll need to put them down, anyway you can."

 

"I can assure you, my lady, my entire devotion will be to my job. My wife is already used to not seeing me, but she seems quite busy, even in retirement, with her still running the inn while also managing a household," Gracchus said, but stopped and cleared his throat before continuing. "As for the nobles, I believe I've moved past my previous reluctance to communicate with them, what with my meetings with Count Bathory and Count Brutus, along with Lord Adrard and Governor Jeleen. I assure you, I will have no problems with the nobles, even if I'm still reluctant to over associate with them, lest some of their uglier qualities rub off. As for the disgruntled legions, I've heard of them as well, and have a plan in place."

 

"That bastard Lorgar left his large information web extremely tangled, presumably purposely to sink into the shadows more easier. And Lilly network is strained already, so you'll mostly have to rely on your gut, and the men still loyal in these legions to gather intel. I will ask you one last time, are you sure you can handle this position?"

 

"I'm sure I'll give my all to the cause, and that's all any of us can say about anything. If I must, my entire life will be spent here. Also, I agree Lorgar left a mess when he left, including making enemies of all his former friends, it seems," Gracchus said confidently, every part the general he was.

 

"I'd have to agree with the previous recommendations," Tacitus said, halfway through his fourth glass of whiskey, which showed in the way he swung the glass about when talking. "I was newly a captain, unproven even, when I was appointed High Admiral. It worked out well enough, I suppose."

 

"And the bodies of an entire Occultus Taskforce. The Wolf's dark thoughts are his own, so we cannot judge, i'm afraid." She added sadly, "I suppose congratulations are in order then, High-General Ceno."

 

Gracchus turned to Tacitus, and to Maori, kindly asking, "Would you mind giving us a moment alone?"

 

Tacitus rose, setting his glass down. "Let's go Maori, I know of some bars that stay open pretty late. I'll show you a grand Cyrodiilic time!"

 

Thank the gods. "Right behind you, bud. Nice meeting you, Empress," said Maori. She seemed fine enough, but the formality in the place was killing him.

 

She gave him a surprising smile, before adding dryly to the bosmer, "It's good to have someone shorter then me around here."

 

Once the duo had left Gracchus smiled at the empress. "I appreciate your willingness to give me the job, but wouldn't it be more prudent to wait on your soon to be husband to make such a monumental decision? You could of course give me interim status, so we no longer have to operate without a High General, but I know my wife would kill me if I were to make any decisions without her. And from what I gather, he's to be given greater duties than just Court Mage and consort. I don't presume to tell you your job, but decisions like these shouldn't be made on a whim."

 

Her eyes narrowed cooly, ignoring him she said."I see. So you do know. Who was it who told you,Lorgar, or Tullius?"

 

"Lorgar," Gracchus said, frowning a bit.

 

She gave him a pained look, and a humorless smile, "From the letters I found in Tullius's office, he also informed Tullius that..lord Snow-Strider was a stormcloak, leaving the former part out despite obviously knowing."

 

"He is?" Gracchus asked, completely taken aback, as evidenced by his furrowed brow and arched eyebrows. "I had no idea."

 

"The paranoia got to him. He was rambling quite a bit in his diary. This piece of information most likely drove him to his betrayal." She stretched out her arms , "Lorgar taught me the art of hunting. He always said, they were three parts of it that mattered most." She raised hand, and raised her fingers according to the number she said,

 

"One, Misdirection."

 

"Two, Distraction."

 

"Three...Deception."

 

"Well, what I said still stands. I accept the job on an interim basis, but I advise you wait to make the permanent decision," Gracchus said in a soft, fatherly tone.

 

"Then wait for the court mage to finalize it then." She said, glancing at the wall.

 

"Everything alright, Empress?" Gracchus asked, concerned.

 

"Nothing is alright, Gracchus." She said, looking sad, her face filled with emotion "Hey...do...you mind I you listen to me? Lilly offered, but I know I can trust you."

 

"I don't mind, not at all," Gracchus said with a smile, taking a seat in a chair. Although I could be home with my wife, which would be a much more welcome homecoming,he thought, but maintained the grin.

 

"Everyone I seem to care about...just dies or leaves me. Elan, Miku, Lorgar,Tullius....Homunal" She gripped her stomach hunching forward on her chair, "I can still feel her blade thrusting into my body. I feel...like it would have been better if I simply died."

 

"You can't think like that Dales," Gracchus spoke freely, knowing this was more important than custom and titles. "We cannot control what hand we are dealt in this lifetime, but we can control when we play out cards. You can't control the past, but you can shape the future, and not just your own but a whole province's. That's something special, a once in a thousand lifetime opportunity."

 

"But is that me...or him?"

 

"I dare say that's both of you. He can't be emperor without you, just like you need his insight and experience. You're a team, a partnership, weaker apart than you are together. I don't know much about him besides the time we spent in Skyrim together, and the few meetings we've had here, and from what I've seen there are worst marriage prospects out there. Give him a chance, that's what I say."

 

"You don't know him like how I do. But regardless, I doubt I'll ever be truly happy with him. It doesn't matter, duty comes first after all."

 

"I don't suppose I do know him, really, at least not in the way that you do. Positions of power rarely give us both duty and happiness, usually forsaking the latter for the former. Whatever the case may be between you two, I hope you can resolve it so it does not interfere with the running of Cyrodiil."

 

Dales just silently starred off into space, before muttering, "You're excused General Ceno, I'm sure you're tired and would like to return to home."

 

"Don't let it bother you too much," Gracchus said, rising and bowing before leaving. He stood outside the door, leaning against the wall, head slightly hung. Poor girl...she's had too much thrust upon her for someone her age. She's seems abnormally sad, even with all the stress though...I hope nothing is wrong.

 

Gathering himself from his thoughts, he walked off down the stairs, his boots tapping in a rhythmic pattern as he descended.

 

**

 

Seat once again on Lil Ceno, Gracchus rode up to his house, nestled just north west of the Imperial City along with several other houses, forming a pleasant community. With the sun just setting, he could see Catia sitting on the front porch, easel pointed west at the brilliantly purple, red, orange and yellow sky that was nothing short of beautiful. Just like her, nothing short of beautiful, Gracchus thought with a smile, around the same time Catia realized she had a visitor. Turning, her eyes squinted, until a visibly shocked expression overtook her face, causing her to drop the paints in her hand. He ran out to the road, with the spirit of a filly, where she was met with the wide open arms of her husband, twirling her around. Locked in a wonderful embrace, the stared I to each others eyes for what seemed like hours, not saying anything.

 

Eventually the annoyed whinnying of Lil Ceno interrupted their lovers embrace, as the horse had no time for humans and their intimacy.

 

"Someone wants us to get a room, I think," Gracchus said with a sly smile.

 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd put him up to it," Catia said, the largest smile she'd ever worn on her face.

 

"Lets not disappoint him," Gracchus said, leading Catia by one hand while passing off Lil Ceno to a nearby stable hand. He then picked Catia up, slinging her his shoulder while she laughed like a young woman as he ran I to the house, climbing the stairs as quickly as possible, setting her on their bed before shutting the door.

 
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Eduard Laenius

Location: Throughout Cyrodiil & Skyrim

15 weeks ago

I’m leaving the Imperial City, as well as Cyrodiil, a very happy but tired man. As a result, the Grand Champion is dead. I was paid quite well for murdering Kaye, and framing that Elf. Which I had felt bad about, until I remembered I was getting paid to ruin the Altmer’s life. The man who signed the contract even gave me a keepsake, Kaye’s mask, not that I really wanted it. I’ve always pondered starting a collection, only to decide collecting gold was more useful. I’m doing very well now though, and maybe I’m due for a change or two. We’ll see.

Also, the Brotherhood once again has a foothold in Cyrodiil. It’s not too deep yet, but I recommended a very capable man to lead them. Recruitment on the other hand, was far more difficult than I had planned for. It seems their name doesn’t carry as much allure as in the past. Even if I am the one asking around. Though I got a few well established names to join. As for the leader, Nex was always reliable for Jon and I. It’s not my problem anyways, I suppose. The Brotherhood cleared him, so it’s all up to him now. I hear they’ve already got some solid contracts, so that’s a positive sign.

At the end of the day, my pockets are full. That’s all I really care about for the moment.

13 weeks ago

I decided to stop by an old friend of mine before finishing up my trip back to Dawnstar. An old bandit, Tyran. I wasn’t aware that he had relocated to Skyrim. Probably because he keeps his operation quite small. Very efficient though, for bandit standards. I asked him if he’d buy Kaye’s mask, and he offered a respectable amount. He’s always been one for collectibles. However, I… turned him down. I believe I’ll be keeping this unless I get an offer I can’t refuse. Besides, Jon may want to see it at least one more time. He always enjoyed watching the guy fight. Oh well, some things can’t be helped.

Speaking of Jon, I received a letter from Livia through him. “You’ve been gone a long time. I’m really worried about youâ€. Leave it to her to worry way too much about me. I guess it can’t be helped. I’d do the same if she was away. That’s how families operate. Leave for a month without talking, and you assume they died. Oh well. I’ll be home to greet her soon. Speaking of which, I forgot to pick up something for her. I’ll have to double back and ask Tyran if he’s got anything from Cyrodiil I could… buy.

10 weeks ago

I’ve been back in Dawnstar for almost two weeks now. It’s been nice sleeping in a house regularly. I had seriously forgotten how that felt. It will definitely make getting up much harder. It can’t be helped. Livia was quite excited by my return, as she usually is. That’s always a boost to my mood. Then there’s that girl. Karita. Hmm. It seems the more I try to distract myself from thinking about her, the harder she pounds on my mind. She’s an interesting girl, with a very distinct charm to her. Though she tends to speak of her and I as “usâ€. She’s overestimating what she has, but I don’t really feel like killing this relationship. Not yet. Maybe I will. I always do.

As for the Brotherhood, I am about to embark on my second contract. A bit closer to home this time. There’s a successful merc here in Skyrim, goes by the name Red. I’ve gathered some information leading me to believe he’s holed up in a cabin North of Whiterun. Red. That’s a name that will fit him soon enough.

9 weeks ago

Red is dead. As I had thought, he was holed up in a small cabin. I stalked him for about three days before I struck. Waited until his annoying companions left for their daily errands, then I entered through a cracked window. He never even heard me. From what I hear, while he was successful, he wasn’t all that clean. Overkills and overall sloppy work from someone who was getting as big a name as he was. I took his sword, Nordic from the looks of it. It’s definitely custom work though. Damn good work too. It’s a shame he never got to use it against me. For him, anyways. I’ll probably put this next to Kaye’s mask.

Payday is tomorrow. Couldn’t have gone any better.

7 weeks ago

Life is good. There isn’t much more I could ask for, other than the obvious. I’ve got a good stream of gold, and a soft bed. And a girl with whom to share it. She’s quite easy to get attached to, I suppose. I enjoy her company well enough. It still bothers me when she says “us†though. I don’t want to get into deep, but I don’t want to cut off my relationship with her either. If only she wanted me for the same reason I wanted her, we wouldn’t have this problem.

Jon is getting back into the game pretty seriously again. Which is good news. I loathed holding him down to protecting my sister during the war. I’ll just have to take Jon’s word for it that the pay and the friendship were more than enough.

Lastly, this whole Brotherhood thing is continuing to bear good fruit. I completed a quick contract last week, and pocketed 500. For a two day job, that’s not bad at all. Especially considering how easy the target was. Just a young hunter. Kind of like I was back in the day. Obviously, he wasn’t as skilled. And he probably shouldn’t have cheated on his girl. Would have spared him having a contract on his head I hear.

Speaking of which, I may want to watch my own interactions from here on out. At least while I’m in Dawnstar, right?

5 weeks ago

Another two weeks at home. Though that will be interrupted here soon, unfortunately. Brotherhood contract will be taking me near the border of Skyrim and Cyrodiil, somewhat near Pale Pass actually. I can’t help but think back to the war. The pay is very nice, but the price is very steep. Never a soft bed to sleep on. The food is garbage. But the gold? Shiny as ever.

Karita left on a little trip last week. Supposed to be gone until next week. I sent someone to tail her and make sure she makes it back in one piece. As of right now, she’s the only girl I’m seeing. Which… doesn’t matter to me much right now. She gives me everything I want. Good food as well as a good time. I don’t see any reason to let her go, even if I do worry I’m starting to get attached.

17 days ago

I’ve been scouting and stalking my target for about four days now. Her name is Ria. I wasn’t given much information other than the location. Turns out she’s lightly guarded by four men who wait outside her camp all day. Well, twelve men on three shifts that is. The window during the second shift change is longer than the first. It seems as though the night shift are the laziest. Can’t blame them. She would though. If she were to live through their failure.

Which she won’t.

Present Day

I’m about two days out of Dawnstar. The girl is dead, and my pockets are once again full. I also have a very nice ring that I took from her. It seems every time that I go out, I come back with something more beautiful than last time. Well. Other than the one minor contract. Nothing good about that whole ordeal, other than the quick pay.

It’s been a long trip, and I am ready to rest in my own bed once again. Maybe I’ll invite Karita over, since she should be back in town. I do have a little bit of spare energy.

 
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Gracchus Ceno

Ceno Homestead/Imperial Palace

Morning

 

"So, where will you stay?" Catia asked, as she held her hands out towards the fireplace, not wanting Gracchus to see her eyes twinkle with the beginnings of tears.

 

"Morndas through Fredas I'll be in the Imperial City, and I'll probably stay in the office. I think Tullius kept a cot there for late nights, so I'll use that. If I can be home for Loredas and Sundas I'll try, but it may be easier for you to come see me, as I don't know how busy I'll be," Gracchus said, slightly downcast. The realization he was going to have to leave Catia again was just now hitting him, and it was a sad thought indeed.

 

"I'll get up there as often as I can," Catia said, rising and walking behind her husband, who sat at the table,wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "Don't be upset, this doesn't change anything. I've dealt with you being away for years, and a couple more won't hurt me in the least."

 

"I know you'll be fine, I'm more worried about myself," Gracchus said with a smile, grabbing her hand and kissing it.

 

"Oh hush up. Now, you better get going or you'll look bad to the Empress," Catia said.

 

Gracchus rose and kissed her, then left quickly out the door before he changed his mind. Outside, the stable hand had Lil Ceno in hand, and Gracchus climbed up and took off south, towards the gleaming White-Gold tower that stood high above all.

 

I'm the worst husband in the world, constantly leaving like this. At time I wish we were like the Red-Snows, always together, traveling to exotic locations all around Tamriel. But I couldn't have her in harms way, there's no way I could do that. I can't let the Empress know I have any reservations about the job. I really don't, not about the work, just the hours. It'll be worth it once this is all over. I can take her to see the auroras of Skyrim, the great sand dunes of Hammerfell, the huge Wrothgarians, which I'd personally like to see. What a day it'll be when I no longer have to deal with thoughts of war.

 

**

 

Gracchus sat at his desk, and getting his first order of business done. It was a meeting, of all the generals, that he knew he needed to get accomplished. He could sort through all the problems with anyone who was disgruntled, along with setting down the new protocols he had in mind. All heavy armor changed over to light, as the deserts and jungles would be hell in any sort of heavy armor. No spears, not a one should be in Valenwood. Too long, too gangly for jungle fighting. Elsweyr was going to be a challenge too, with all the sand and uneven dunes. The sieges there would be long and hard, and supply lines were crucial, so they had to figure that out. But that's why he was calling this meeting, to set down all these ideas and mandates, and open it up to let the other generals have input as well. He may be High General, at least for now, but that didn't mean he was a dictator.

 

So, he penned letters to all the legions, minus the fourth that was almost completely destroyed in Skyrim. It was simple and quick, and read,

 

Generals of the Imperial Legions,

 

I have been given the post of High General on an interim basis, but I do not see this as a detriment or a hindrance. I would call all of you to meet with me in the Imperial City in two weeks time, so we may discuss the protocols and procedures we will employ in our assaults upon Elsweyr and Valenwood. It will be a discussion, not a dictation, so feel free to present any ideas you might have. I will also deal with the disgruntled feelings some of you seem to harbor, as word of that has reached my ears as well.

 

For the glory of the Empire,

 

High General Gracchus Quintus Ceno

 

The letter penned, Gracchus gave it to his secretary, a small Imperial man who's name escaped him.

 

"I need ten copies, on my desk by this afternoon for my signing," Gracchus commanded.

 

"Yes sir, I'll be on it sir," the man said, drawing his quill and starting right away.

 

"I'll be in meetings, if anything comes up," Gracchus said, leaving.

 

He walked down the hall to a meeting room, which had a long, old table surrounded by chairs. Inside was a wagon maker, who had provided the army in the past.

 

"Ah, General Ceno, I was hoping you wouldn't forget," the elderly man said.

 

"No, an I hope you haven't either. How many wagons have you made now?" Gracchus asked, taking a seat.

 

"One-hundred and fifty, with the other one-hundred and fifty coming soon. By two and a half months time they'll be finished," the man said.

 

"Good, good. I find it easier for us to provide the transportation to our comrades than them having to be held up with transporting their own wagons across those distances. And if we are attacked on a moments notice, I should find it important they get here in the smallest amount of time possible," Gracchus said, more to himself than to the elderly wagon maker.

 

"Of course, general, of course. Also, I congratulate you on your appointment to High General, although it is still saddening about that Tullius business. He was gruff, but it's still sad," the man said.

 

"He started this venture with you, did he not?" Gracchus asked.

 

"Yes, and I'm glad to see you're continuing it. But I must go, other business you see. Thank you for your time, general," the man said, bowing and leaving.

 

"Good day to you," Gracchus said.

 

The next few hours went much the same way, successions of leather makers, blacksmiths, farmed and shippers and all kinds if people the army needed. Maybe a smaller force could cover its own expenses, but the legion was too large to cover it all. Eventually, the last man walked in, and it was finally someone Gracchus knew.

 

"Valvius? Valvius Hateria? What're you doing here?" Gracchus asked, standing to shake his legions head engineer's hand.

 

"Well, I had some business with Tullius, but since you're the new High General I guess my business is with you," Valvius said.

 

"Really? What did he have you doing?" Gracchus asked.

 

"He ordered larger versions of the onagers we used in Skyrim, along with some battering rams and other siege machinations. The cities of Elsweyr will call for it he said. So, I was coming for my annual status report," Valvius said with a smile.

 

"Well, what is it? How are the machines coming?" Gracchus asked eagerly.

 

"They're coming, although we've had problems translating the onagers to a larger size. We need stronger rope, is the problem, so I've ordered some and it should be in soon. The battering rams are nearing completion, and we're set to test them in the coming weeks," Valvius said triumphantly.

 

"That is good news. Continue on, and report to me as you would Tullius," Gracchus said with a smile.

 

"Of course, High General," Valvius said, saluting him then leaving.

 

Gracchus followed him, since that was the final meeting. By now it was midday, so he returned to his office, where half the letters awaited his signing. Once done with those, he moved on to another pile of paperwork, but was taken aback by a name he saw on the papers.

 

Prisoner Regulus, in one of our solitary condiment cells, has been indicted in a potential breakout plot. No one was harmed, but the prison committee recommends adding a minimum of five years to his sentencing. That would bring the total to thirty more years of prison.

 

The prison committee on sentencing.

 

Gracchus sighed heavily, a frown crossing his face. Damn it Regulus, why can you just keep your nose down and finish our your term. You dumb fool, you always were more trouble than you're worth.

 

Gracchus picked up his quill, writing that he agreed with the recommends five years, with a further recommendation that he me moved to maximum security if he already hadn't.

 

With that, his mood was ruined for the day, so Gracchus solemnly set about signing and mandating and recommending whatever he needed to, until the sun set and he fell asleep at his desk, quill still in hand. It was a rough job, but he loved it nonetheless.

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Jon- Laenius House, Dawnstar, Late Evening

It was another cold night in Dawnstar, as Jon finished pouring himself a drink. He was expecting to have a relaxing evening.

Marcel is supposed to be in town. More news for me. Which is good. I’ve been needing something to take my mind off the mercenaries. Frustrating business, that is.

He sat down, and comfortably finished his drink before stepping outside. He was greeted by the now familiar cold, along with a heavy wind sweeping across the snow.

I could do without this, honestly. One thing Cyrodiil has on Skyrim for sure.

He continued on, pulling up some fabric to cover his mouth. Jon had never really enjoyed the cold all that much. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get completely used to the bite, like all of his Nord neighbors around town.

As he made his way out of Dawnstar, he checked to make sure that he wasn’t being followed. It was out of habit, and not worry. Some of his employees thought he was a bit paranoid in that regard. Jon always replied with the worn-out but true ‘Practice makes perfect’.

Should be just around this…

As he cleared the bend, a familiar noise pierced his ears.

… Renee.

“Jon! You made it!†Renee basically shouted, even though Jon was only ten or so feet away.

“Is that really so surprising, Renee?â€

“Well. I guess not. But. It’s really nice to see you again!â€

“Right. Always a pleasure. I take it Marcel and Siri are inside?â€

“Of course! I’ll go-†the Imperial began.

“No, we can just go inside. I’d rather be out of the wind anyways.â€

“Oh… uhh. Right! Come on then,†Renee said, stumbling on her words as she motioned him inside one of the traders very spacious tents. As they entered, Marcel was quick to greet.

“Jon! How good of you to stop by. I’d venture to say you’re my favorite customer, and you don’t even buy that much!â€

“I’ve barely stepped inside, and we’re guilt tripping me already? It’s good to see you too, Marcel.â€

“I’ve got to make money somehow, don’t I?â€

Jon returned a small smile, before taking a seat.

“I take it you’re here for the usual?â€

“Of course he is! That’s all he’s ever bought from us, sir,â€
 Renee cut in.

“He’s always going to ask. It’s the businessman’s way, after all. Unfortunately for you Marcel, she is right. I’m here for just the usual. Where is Siri?â€

“You don’t have to worry about that! I can go get it from her,†Renee responded quickly.

“That’s quite alright. I’ll go see her myself this time. I didn’t speak to her last time I was here, if you remember.â€

“She’s not m-†she started to say, before Marcel interrupted sharply.

“Why of course, Jon. After all, you’re the only customer she seems to enjoy talking to anyways.â€

“I can’t imagine why…â€

Marcel laughed, before motioning to Jon to look outside with him.

“She’s in that tent over there. Remember to come back and pay me,†he said, still laughing.

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that. I shouldn’t be too long.â€

He headed out towards Siri’s tent, hearing Renee mutter something under her breath. As he arrived at the tent, he stopped.

“Siri?â€

“Jon? You actually stopped by this time, how nice of you. Please, come inside. You must be freezing,†she said with a gentle voice.

“You still seem to know me better than both of them,†he remarked as he stepped inside the tent.

“You know as well as I do that’s not true.â€

“All about the memory, right?â€

“You know me just as well as I know you. Now, I take it you’re here for this?â€

She held up a small journal that was in pristine condition. It almost shined.

“It’s not the only thing I came for. Intelligent conversation can be hard to come by around here.â€

She smiled softly, as Jon took the journal and then sat down.

“So, honestly, how are things going around here?â€

She sighed.

“It’s… not going to great to be honest. I’m sure you must be aware of that. Wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t already know…â€

“How bad?â€

She opened up a large book, muttering to herself as she flipped through the last couple pages.

“We’ll be done within the year if things don’t take a turn for the positive. It’s the regulars, Jon. Other than you, they just seem to not be around anymore. Either they died, went away, or just don’t do business with us anymore. And it’s not Marcel’s fault either. I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. This is all I’ve ever known. If this goes under, we’re all screwed.â€

Jon stood up, facing towards the entrance of the tent.

“I figured as much. Marcel… he didn’t come out to greet me. Even Renee has lost a little of her bite,†turning back to face Siri, who was still looking at the book.

“We have good periods though. Maybe I’m wron-â€

“You’re never wrong. Not with numbers. You know that.â€

Siri turned from her desk, and looked Jon in the eyes.

“But I want to be. Just this one time,†she said, her voice breaking off as she finished speaking.

Jon approached her, tapping her shoulder.

“Hey, there’s no need to fret. It’s a difficult world. And I don’t have to double check your numbers to know it looks bleak. But you know as well as I do, Marcel will find a way. He always has. There’s no reason for me, or you for that matter, to start questioning his abilities now.â€

Siri blinked her eyes a few times, collecting herself.

“Uhh… right. He’s never let us go hungry before, I guess.â€

“Exactly. Now, Marcel’s probably waiting on me. I should probably get going.â€

He nodded, and then turned to head out of the tent.

“Jon, wait. May I ask you something?â€

He stopped, and glanced back at her over his shoulder.

“Of course.â€

“How come it seems like you always know what to say? To me, I mean.â€

What…

It was a rare moment. He was caught off guard. He regained his train of thought quickly however, barely hesitating.

“We think a lot alike, Siri. Now, may I ask you something?â€

“... fair enough.â€

“Why would you ask me something you already knew the answer to? It’s not like you to copy me,†Jon said with a smile. He then glanced back, seeing he caught her just as off guard as she had him. He had almost left the tent, before turning back quickly. “Goodbye, Siri. Good luck with all of this.â€

“... yeah. Right… Good luck to you as well,†she mumbled as Jon left. She turned back once again to her books, flipping through every page.

He quickly walked back towards Marcel’s tent, where he could see Renee standing outside.

“Goodness! You were gone for a while. She didn’t cause any problems, did she?â€

“Oh come on Renee. You know she’s incapable of doing that.â€

She rolled her eyes.

“Right…†she said, stepping inside. Jon wasn’t far behind.

“I take it you found everything alright?â€

Jon tossed a bag across the table.

“Of course. I always do.â€

“That’s why we love you.â€

Jon nodded, and turned to head out of the tent. He then turned around for a brief moment.

“Renee, Marcel?â€

“Yes Jon?†Marcel said, feeling the bag for weight.

“Take care of yourselves.â€

Marcel looked up for a moment, before nodding.

“Of course, Jon. Have a good one.â€

“Right.â€

“Bye Jon! Are you sure you can’t just stay here for the day?â€

“Quite sure, Renee. I’m a very busy man. Good luck in your travels,†he said, stepping back outside. It was now snowing a bit, which was severely compounding visibility due to the heavy wind.

Great…

He pulled up the fabric a little bit further, shook his head, and then headed back towards Dawnstar. He did a quick scan of his surroundings as he entered town, and then continued at a quick pace back to the house. He let out a small sigh of relief when he reached the front door. He kicked as much snow off his boots as possible before entering. He always hated having a wet floor.

Now, for a little bit of relaxation, he thought as he sat down in the now comfortably worn-in reading chair. Between Eduard and himself, it saw a lot of use. He then pulled the journal out from his pouch. He could tell that Siri had spent more time on this one, as it had elaborate patterns on the cover. Why she spent such time on something Jon filed away in a chest, was one of the few things that truly baffled Jon.

Boredom? No. That can’t be it. Ahh. I’ll never figure it out. Let’s just get started.

He flipped the journal open, and began to scan through it.

This one’s been organized by category. How nice… hmm… Major News, Noble Disputes, City News… Well, best to start from the beginning. Major News… hmm. High Rock? Why would she write about… Oh. Well, that’s why. A change in the kingship. A messy affair. It might interest Eduard, actually. A failed assassination attempt… what is this. Resulting in the crowning of the victim of as King? Theodore. I always hate to assume the worst. It could be coincidence. But it could be more. I suppose that’s not really something for me to know, now is it King Theodore? Fair enough. Now… on to the shallow problems of Cyrodiil’s nobles. Oh goodness. Your daughter ran away with a boy without permission. Put her down, she’s obviously not worthy. And look at this. Why in the world would someone burn down your personal library? I would chalk this up to your ignorance, and not that of foul play. And then. Wow. Yeah, moving on.

He quickly flipped to the rather fancily labeled section ‘City News’.

Let’s see. Ordinances… minor crimes… hmm… what’s this?... Bravil… Skooma problems?... Not just problems either. A full blown epidemic, looking at this. Even the Count couldn’t stay safe? Lost their life to the whole ordeal. Just another statistic to add to the problems that nasty little product has caused. Punishment. Make it swift, make it harsh enough to last.

He put a small tab in the journal, quickly getting up to get some water. From the size of the journal, he was going to be here for a while. He then returned to the chair, and began to scan around some more.

What else do we have… hmm… Laws, Bills, Purchases… Hmm… What’s this? Special Notes… Well, that needs to be checked out. Let’s see here. Oh? This section is labeled “Empress Dalesâ€. Siri must have caught on to my interest from my letters. Good. Now… This is quite concerning. It seems our Empress is set to be married to the Court Mage? Nothing formal… but it definitely seems as if it’s a strong possibility. That reaffirms my suspicions, sadly. It seems as though our new Empress is a puppet, at least to some degree. I guess nothing awful has happened yet. So, who knows. Maybe her being a puppet isn’t all that bad. I can’t help but recall how Eduard told me the man was pressing quite hard for the Thalmor’s destruction. Almost as if… that was all he cared about. Hmm… let’s just look over at the newer laws and bills… Interesting. If you were to ask me, Dales is doing her best to try and jumpstart the economy. Could be successful. But maybe not. Not really my expertise. Now… look here, this is more up my alley. Arming the military up, are we? It seems as though even more fighting is in the future. Fair enough, can’t blame anyone for that. Not in these times I can’t. Tread carefully, young lady. I can’t help but fear the worst. Empress, you’ve done nothing to deserve such fear. Well, except for being young, impressionable, and seemingly a puppet. But the question in politics seems to be who isn’t a puppet nowadays. And because… assassination attempts? On the girl? Interesting. Thwarted... By the Mage. Of course they were. A dead puppet is far less useful, I suppose.

He closed the journal for a second, allowing himself to get a sip of water as well as stretch.

Lorgar Grim-Maw/Saladin. With it’s own section. Good. Well, maybe not. Let’s just see what you’ve been up to. Hmm. Now, this. This is either concerning, or a good turn of events. I hate to assume the worst, but again. It’s what I do. You and the Bloodwolves are on Dominion payroll? Please. Just let this turn out to be some undercover op. We really don’t need someone like you on the other side. It’d almost be sad for you to die in such a situation. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Pick the right side Lorgar. You have to be smarter than you appear. After all, you were quite respected even before this supernatural bogus I’ve been hearing more and more about. We’ll find out if my faith is misplaced sooner or later. I’ll have to ask Eduard what he thinks is going on. He knows you better. Somewhat. What else did he say about you?... ‘Knowing him might just be an impossibility, given his seemingly unstable mind.’ Hopefully you’ve stabilized a bit since the war. Hopefully.

Finally, he decided that he had read enough for the night. He closed the journal, and put it in the correctly labeled chest. He then grabbed some paper, and began to write.

Lex,

This news is to spread only to our members, and keep it close to the hip. I don’t want this leaked.

There is a traveling merchant, by the name of Marcel. You’ve met him once. I have included his travel schedule. You, as well as everyone else, are to buy your supplies from him for the time being. Don’t let him haggle you too high, as he will suspect something if business gets too easy. But don’t be extremely stingy either. I also included a good sum of gold. That is to be given to someone other than you, to buy the enchanted Elven sword. Can’t miss it.

-Jon

 

~~-~~--~~-~~

 

Eduard Laenius, Jon- Laenius House, Dawnstar, Early Morning

It was another windy morning in Dawnstar, as both Eduard and Jon went about their mornings. Eduard was busy grabbing practice arrows out of the weapons chest, while Jon was looking to finish the news journal he had purchased the day before.

“There’s been a lot of interesting news as of late,†said Jon, with just the slightest hint that he was still tired.

“Are we talking your kind of interesting news, or mine?†Eduard replied.

Jon shook his head as he grabbed the book out of his chest.

“Both.â€

“Why don’t you start with the news that would interest me,†Eduard said in a curious tone.

“Where do I even begin? Skooma lords are taking over cities in Cyrodiil, riots are breaking out. The turmoil seems to be ramping up down south. On top of that, the Empress is getting married to the Court Mage. And your old partner Lorgar is now running a unit under Dominion payroll.â€

Eduard sat down, and looked down thoughtfully for a quick second.

“Lorgar hasn’t changed at all it seems. Hopefully he’s doing that for the right reasons. Last I heard he was a traitor, but you never know. As long as Livia is in Skyrim, I won’t have to worry about that Nord running Cyrodiil. Unless he starts branching out from his Elven hate to just hating all races but the Nords. Though his command is troubling to say the least. But all of this turmoil in Cyrodiil has me thinking…â€

“The general,†Jon cut in, with a slight nod.

“Yes. Gracchus Ceno. I didn’t make much in the way of friends during the war, but he was an exception,†Eduard said, standing up.

“Right. You know, you could always write him. Rila can find and track anyone down for a fair price.â€

“She’s coming into town? That’s almost a coincidence. I shouldn’t waste any time then. I’ll have to move training to the evening. Which won’t matter too much, it’ll be just as freezing then as it is now.â€

Jon chuckled at his partners mutual dislike of the recent cold spell in Dawnstar. He had been reading the journal this whole time, and came across more relevant news.

“Also, General Tullius is dead. Says here he was guilty of following a formal general in a rather messy insurrection attempt. I would say I’m sad to see him go. Maybe someone else is though,†he hinted.

Eduard didn’t need the hint, but he nodded his head anyway. He proceeded to grab some paper out of his desk.

General Gracchus Ceno,

It’s been awhile since we’ve had any contact. Too long, you might say. I don’t have all that much time to write this, so I will keep it as short as I can. You’re probably getting busy enough as is with Cyrodiil going like it is.

Speaking of Cyrodiil, I’ve heard of it’s many struggles, as well as all of the political games going on. As capable a man you are, I’m sure you’re well aware of the impending danger. Stay safe, and don’t get pushed around too much.

As for me, I’m doing fine. I do odd jobs here and there to keep the money flowing, and everything is relatively quiet. How long that will last, I couldn’t tell you.

One last thing. If you ever need anything, Legion business or otherwise, don’t be afraid to ask. I travel fast.

- Eduard Laenius

P.S. I’m sorry about any and all losses you’ve suffered during all of this. It’s never easy on anyone, even those hardened by war. I wish you and your wife the best in all of your endeavors.


Eduard folded up the paper perfectly and signed his name on it.

“How much do you think it’d cost me to get this first priority?â€

Jon squinted for a second.

“450? Should get it there faster than anyone in Tamriel, and she’d probably be willing to take the return mail if need be.â€

So much…

“Fine. Better be damn quick. I’m almost considering taking it myself at that price.â€

“Oh come on. She’s a friend, and not just to me.â€

“Right, I know. But that’s quite the bonus. I guess I’m not spending any of this at the moment though. Speaking of spending money though, what do you think of purchasing a safehouse? In case the war ever ends up coming to Skyrim’s coast?â€

Jon shrugged his shoulders.

“Could be a good idea. Make it somewhere warmer, if you do decide to get one.â€

Eduard laughed, before heading out to find Rila.

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Karsh

Imperial City

Afternoon

 

"So then... she touched my arm, starred into my eyes, and told me she wouldn't hurt me." Muttered the incredibly shy and nervous Helen Quentas, putting away her blushing face.

 

Lilly didn't even bother to pay attention to little Helen's gushing, she was pissed. She felt furry towards that scamp Elizabeth Motierre. That  whore. How dare she try to slap my injured Helen. That useless... Oh I'll make her pay. Lilly then heard a knocking on the window and as she looked she that raven again, pecking on the window. When the black bird noticed that he had gotten her attention he raised one wing and started to wave with it. That stupid bloody bird. She kindly smiled at Helen, before saying: "Excuse me dear, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have some work to finish. Don't worry love bird. You can tell me about all the details at dinner." Helen nodded a couple of times, before taking her leave of the rest room. Lilly opened the window and snarled at the bird. "What the hell do you want magpie." 

 

Karsh waved with the wing for to lean closer and as she did he stretched his neck to get the beak right next to her ear. "If you take away that p you'll get the name of someone who treated me much better. Maybe you should do the same? I'm the messenger of your boss after all." 

 

"Does it look like I give a ****?" She said putting on a furious expression at the mention of the name of Maggie. "I'm his number one lover, magpie. Not that stupid author. Don't mention her name again, magpie." Lilly crossed her arms in annoyance. "I'll ask again, what the hell do you want? It's my day off, and I'd rather spend it with my cousin." 

 

"You do know everything will go back to him right? Should I really mention how you mistreat me and that you almost killed me? I'm the only raven he got." Karsh then paused for a second before continuing. "And if you don't remember; about a week ago I came with that request about Cheydinhal."

 

"Then I'll enchant an even bigger bird to hunt you down and eat you." She said, her voice saying she was serious. She started to mutter something under her breath, as she took out a sealed scroll from her chest area. "Here." 

 

Karsh grabbed the small scroll with his beak and then moved it to his talon before turning the head upwards to her ear again. "You really think it's good idea to impress someone by sticking their eyes out? Why don't you play nice and I'll tell him nice things about you instead."

 

"Look here bird-brain..." Lilly's sharp hearing picked up a noise coming from the door. She turned away from the raven before calling, "It's alright if your curious Helen. Come in."

 

The door opened slightly, revealing the small, glasses filled face of Helen Quentas. She quietly called out, "I'm so sorry Lilly...."

 

Lilly shot a warm smile, "It's fine Helen, come here."

 

She quickly ran over to Lilly, hiding behind her and going close. She whispered, "Are you a talking bird?" 

 

Karsh turned to look at the newly arrived little girl and raised one wing and waved a little as in a greeting. 

 

Helen asked in a timid voice, "Whats your name Mister Birdie?"

 

The raven then waved with the same wing for to come closer. Helen look at Lilly for confirmation, who nodded her head while rolling her eyes. Helen nervously approached the bird, and lent her ear to him. Karsh looked at her with a slightly titled head before putting his beak near her ear. "Hello, little girl. Or rather, girl smaller than the other girl here. You're quite a giant to me. My name is Karsh. Anyway, what's the bigger girl's problem with talking ravens?"

 

She squealed in surprise and joy at the sound of the Raven's voice. At the comment about "The bigger girls problem" her face puffed up, "What, is Lilly mistreating you?"

 

"Calling me names, throwing me into the ground, threatening to kill me, almost killing as well." 

 

"Lilly!!!" Helen's adorable face was annoyed, "That's not very nice. Are you hungry Karsh?" She asked, to which Karsh took a step back and nodded his head eagerly at the girl. 

 

Lilly put her palm to her face, "Don't feed the bird dear."

 

Helen ignored her, and took an olive from a bowl on the table. She offered it to him. The black bird grabbed the olive and swallowed it whole and then gave off a small croak. She smiled, "You look cute when your eating, mister Karsh." This time she picked up a chunk of ham and put it close to the Raven. Karsh grabbed the ham and dropped it down on the window frame, put one talon on it as he started to rip smaller pieces of it and gulp them down. The bird looked up at her with a piece of ham hanging from his beak and nodded his head before going back to eating. "You have a mate, or some little birdie babies?" He gulped down the last piece of ham and shook his head. "Oh..." Tilting his head the bird looked at Helen with a slight curious look. Noticing the strange looks, the girl once again went close to his beak. "Is something the matter?"

 

"You look a little disappointed." 

 

"Oh it's nothing." She said, blushing a shade of red.

 

"Oh come on. Tell me, tell me, tell me." 

 

"Ehhhh?!" She looked away before saying, "I've.... always wanted to be a mother and have children. But... recent events have called the possibility of that into question."

 

"Eeeeh? What?" 

 

"It's nothing." She said, raising her hands.

 

"Anyway, you got some more food? And a pillow to nap on?" 

 

"You can sleep on my pillow, and there's some more meat in here if you want?" She said kindly.

 

"Good. Give me your arm. Need somewhere to sit."

 

"You want me to carry you instead, mister Karsh?"

 

"Flying isn't exactly ideal for tight spaces such as corridors and small rooms. And one step for you is several hops for me. So of course I want to be carried." Karsh said a bit promptly. 

 

She offered him her two hands and he moved the scroll from the talon to his beak and climbed aboard the two hands and sat down. Helen carried the bird out of the room and across the hallway, ignoring Lilly's strange looks. When she reached he room, she used her small legs to open the door. Inside, was a large room, filled with pink color, along with fluffy stuffed toys, and books. A huge amount of books. She went over to her large queen sized bed, and gently placed the bird there, while grabbing an embroided pink fluffy pillow and placing it beside the raven. And after putting down the scroll on the bed he hoped up on the pillow and made himself comfortable. 

 

She said, giggling, "Anything else you need?"

 

Karsh put his beak next to her ear as she leaned down. "Some more food. And do tell that bigger girl to start treating me nicely." 

 

She laughed, "Mister Karsh, too much food is unhealthy for you. You don't want to be a fat Birdie do you?" 

 

"Well, to boss's dismay, a side effect of his enchantments is that I can now eat much more food than a regular raven. So give me more food, ey?" 

 

She ran to the larder, and got a bunch of sausages, before heading back and placing them on a plate that she placed it on the bed. She then sat down besides the bed while resting the head on crossed arms at the edge near the plate, before saying, "Whose your boss?"

 

Taking a few steps off the pillow towards the plate he stopped next to it only to put his beak next to her ear. "Big fella from the north. Black hair." The raven then started eating on the sausages. 

 

"Lord Snow-Strider? Lilly's friend?" Karsh looked up from the sausages and titled his head a little as he looked into the distance for a few seconds before he then gave a nod and began eating again. "Hmmmm, Mister Snow-Strider is very nice to me, though he's a tad bit cold. Does he treat you properly Karsh?"

 

Karsh looked up at her and titled his head again for a few seconds before stretching his beak to her ear. "I don't know what working conditions for birds are considered 'proper', but I'm fed and don't have to suffer anything like the big girl put me through. Worst part though is having to fly long distances with little food or rest."

 

She laughed softly, "Lilly is normally a very nice person. She lets me stay at her place, feeds me, pays for my tuition, and always listen to me when I want to talk. She works very hard, and very long, but she never yells at me. Maybe she just doesn't like birds?"

 

"And what's not to like about me? I'm charming, cute, got nice fluffy black feathers and I can talk." 

 

"Maybe it's the stigma Ravens have, for being thieving carrion eaters. I read in a book that Raven is a delicacy in the Blackwood region. Maybe Lilly tried it and didn't like it. Hence why she doesn't like you."

 

"Then Blackwood is filled with crazy people with bad taste. And it's not my fault people have their shinies laying around for others to grab." 

 

She started to stroke his back, "Well that's dumb, your as cute as a kitten, you little Birdie you." Karsh just lifted his wings in a shrug and went back to eating. "So karsh. Have you ever been in love before?" Karsh looked up at her with a slice of meat hanging from the beak, giving her an annoyed stare and then gulped down the piece. Then he quickly shook his head and started to tear off some more pieces. Helen put on a angry expression before sulking into her bed,"Hmpth, well same to you."

 

Karsh let her sulk while he ate till he could no longer stuff himself. When he was done and there were still a few sausages left, he walked over the bed to her ear. "I wanted to eat without you interrupting all the time. Now that I'm done, you want to say anything else before I take my nap?" 

 

"What do you find attractive in women, Karsh?" Her eyes getting dreary.

 

"Hmm, its strange. All I can think of is lush blonde hair, sweet cherry red lips, deep blue eyes and... shortness."

 

"You fleshy people are a strange bunch. No appreciation of an ink black plumage." 

 

"Well, people don't have Plumage. Unfortunately, people tend to judge your attractiveness on your face, ummmm... butt-ox, and how large your breasts are."

 

"So according to that, the big girl should be really attractive because of her breasts. As I said before: you're an odd bunch." 

 

"I think Lilly is very attractive. From what I hear from Laurel, Lilly's maid, Lord Snow-strider finds Lilly very attractive." She blushed, "I'm probably at the bottom though, I'm very plain."

 

"Well I'm off to take my nap." The raven then walked away from her and placed himself comfortably on the pillow and closed his eyes. 

 

Helen stretched out on her bed, careful to avoid hitting the bird, "I think I'll join you." She closed her eyes, and let the void of sleep taken her.

 

Some time later on Karsh woke up from his nap. Looking over at Helen he saw that she was still asleep. But he didn't pay her much attention as he started to explore the room. Poking at the fluffy stuffed toys with the beak and reading the the title on a few books that lied around. A few of the toys fell over but otherwise they were quite lifeless. The books were mostly novels so the titles came off as nonsensical to Karsh. "Lilly of the Imperial Garden" read the title on one book and Karsh simply assumed Helen was into gardening. When he got bored of the room he walked out the half open door and into the large corridors of the mansion. 

 

Suddenly an unfamiliar voice entered Karsh's ear, "My, my. An enchanted raven. How so unlike Lilly."

 

Karsh stopped up and before he could turn around he felt that he was hit by some kind of magical force, it was quite subtle as it went through his body and then left him in the direction he had heard the voice. Leaving him with a slight feeling of being drained yet he couldn't feel that anything was missing. He then turned around to see who had spoken with and cast the strange spell at him. 

 

The person in question was a human female. By Helen's words on standards, and from behaviors and talks Karsh had watched and listened to, she was apparently quite attractive. She seemed to have the all the curves in the right places. She had fine brown hair and was quite tall. She looked like she was in her mid twenties, with no wrinkles or any imperfections on the skin to speak of. She was wearing a plain green dress. She gave him a smile. "Ah. I see. You one of those familiars. You cannot communicate without me being close, correct?" Karsh looked at her with a titled head for a few seconds before giving a nod. She leaned in ,"May I have your name?"

 

He carefully stretched his beak up to her ear. "Karsh."

 

"A pleasure to meet you Karsh. Obviously you don't belong to Lilly, I'm afraid she doesn't have the knowledge and experience to make such a fine and advanced specimen as yourself. Who is your master?"

 

"Big fella from the north with black hair." 

 

"Ah Lord-Strider? I've heard quite a bit about the man. A powerful mage, and formerly a brother from another coven."

 

"He doesn't like to talk about it. Bad experience I guess." 

 

"Poor man." The human woman said, putting on a sad face, "Covens aren't for everyone. He must have a heart made of glass. Poor dear."

 

"As I said: he doesn't talk much about his past. You'd be better off asking him." 

 

"As much as I would love to. He is absent, is he not? Business in Cheydinhal?" 

 

"On his way to Leyawiin last I saw him. But I'm only telling you because he's on official business." 

 

"How unfortunate." She glanced over the raven, "Is Helen sleeping?" 

 

"Yes. How so?" 

 

"Just curious. She's very dear to me."

 

"You heard her snoring, didn't you?" 

 

"Oh I did. But I was unaware of it being Helen. Lilly... really doesn't like this mansion. Too many bad memories. I didn't know if she was staying her with Helen or not." 

 

"Bad memories?" 

 

"Lilly was bullied quite a bit by her older sister, Milly, along with her father in these grounds. Poor child."

 

"Reminds me a little of what I heard about Dales. Anyway, you here to meet Lilly?" 

 

"Yes. But it seems she's away." 

 

Karsh was silent for a small moment. "Hey, can I sit on your shoulder?" He then said. 

 

"I'm afraid you can't do that." The woman gave him an apologetic smile, as suddenly, Karsh heard the hissing of an animal coming from the females sleeve. Soon the head of a snake could be seen at her wrist. Karsh slowly started to back away with eyes fixed at the snake.  The snake just stared back with the occasional forked tongue flapping out. "This is just my little pet." The woman said calmly as she straightened back up. Karsh just kept walking backwards away from the snake. Not giving as much as a croak in response. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite." She said with her kind voice. 

 

When Karsh had backed away a few feet from the woman and the snake he quickly turned around and flew away in the opposite direction. He flew through the corridor till he reached a large stair leading downwards to the entrance hall and a servant was just opening the door only to be greeted by a raven flying at her. The servant ducked as Karsh sailed over her head and out on the street and then high up in the sky above the rooftops. He was about to fly south as he remembered the note he came to pick up in the first place. Quickly turning around he flew back to the mansion and started checking window to window for Helen's room. He reached the pink of Helen's room, the black haired girl was still sleeping sounding cuddling one of her stuffed animals. He started pecking hard and intensely at the window to get her to wake up. 

 

Helen yawned loudly and left her large bed. She tiredly opened the window.She sleepily said, "Karsh is that you?" Karsh jumped past her and flew onto the bed and started looking frantically after the note but it was nowhere to be found. "You want sleep in my bed?" Helen asked curiously. Karsh started croaking at her for a moment before he then flying over to her desk and starting to look over the stuff there. After making a bit of a mess of the desk he flew over on to the dresser and starting ruffling through the stuff there. Helen suddenly got very flustered and called out, "Don't look through there!" But the raven didn't stop and after going through a couple of clothes and other small trinkets he found the note and he picked it up in the beak and looked at Helen with a tilted head. "Just... please stop looking in there." Karsh didn't really bother with her discomfort over the situation and instead stretched out his wings and flew through the room, past Helen and through the window and then up into the night sky. 

 
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Rebec, Baldur

The Oasis of the Alik'r

Noon

 

The general had long since meant to step out from the canopy on Fafnir to walk with the others, but the sway of the lizard combined with the hazy heat created by the shade that dulled the more intense warmth of the Alik'r desert proved too much. He stayed there sleeping for most of the trip, even with Menel and his disgusting feet, though eventually he did kick him out.

 

He only stirred again when he heard one of the Ra Gada say something in their rare tongue, though one of the words he did manage to pick up, which meant 'city'. When he got the blur of slumber from his eyes, he could make out a large rocky area with two small mountain-like formations covered in rich earth and tropical trees. From here, he could make out the smoke of fires probably from cooking in front of cave dwellings. From the rocky area came a large stream that pooled into a sizable spring which had a scant amount of trees around it with decent shrubbery, but not much plantlife elsewhere due to the spring pooling over sandy ground unlike where it trickled from. On the other side of the spring a good ways away from where they were, Baldur could make out some creatures nearby that looked like some sort of turtle, except the legs were thicker and longer, and its top was flat and had plants growing out of it.

 

And from there, he also could make out yet another half bird creature, though this one looked like a half ape, half magpie, or parrot with a mix or red fur and feathers, along with a bit of blue. It didn't look as freakish as the harpies, but it made him nervous all the same.

 

Rebec had slept more than she intended on the trip, as well, even with her nervousness about more attacks. As Baldur stirred, however, so did she. The sight of vegetation on the horizon and a few wispy clouds above it was striking, after what seemed like weeks of nothing but the desert. Taking out her spyglass, she observed the activity in the oasis, and spotted some blonde heads that stood higher than the others.

 

"Looks like our men made it here, anyway," she said over her shoulder.

 

"Of course they did. They take after their leader," said Baldur, smiling with pride. It didn't take him too long to see the men break off from the group they could see ahead coming from the activity of the people further into the oasis and towards them. In the distance, a tall man with red hair could be seen along with a Ra Gada beside him, and he knew immediately it was Kematu and Falgrum. Wasting no time in meeting their entourage.

 

Rebec put away her spyglass and glanced down at the ground. "Nobody explained the dismount procedure here. I guess we jump and hope for the best?"

 

Baldur looked over from where they were to the side, then pulled back. "Eh, maybe. Let me try something else." Baldur got up from behind her, then crawled out from the canopy towards Fafnir's head. Baldur didn't know what he was doing, but he figured the thing was trained so well, maybe it would know what he wanted. "Uh, Fafnir...down?"

 

Baldur remembered the word he responded to for up was tang, so the likelihood of him responding to tamrielic was unlikely. Rubbing the top of Fafnir's head while pushing down, Baldur said again, "Down!" This time the lizard did obey. Coming to a stop, Fafnir bowed his head as if to drink, allowing Baldur to slide down his head, albeit ungracefully and landing on his hands and knees. "Okay, you're good to go!" he said to Rebec near his head ready to assist with the landing.

 

Rebec was pondering swinging down by her rope, but ended up sliding, getting caught half way down so that she turned sideways, then tumbling off into the sand at Baldur's feet with a thud. Rising up on her elbows, she spat sand from her mouth and stared up at him. "We'll have to work on that."

 

Baldur stifled a chuckle as he helped her up, then brushed sand off the both of them before grabbing Fafnir's reins and continuing the walk to what one of the guides called a city. From what he could tell, it was more like a large village with cave dwellings and large yurts. By the time Kematu and Falgrum met up with them, Falgrum and the other Grim Ones that met up with them were all gawking at the lizard that accompanied their Admiral and General. Kematu on the other hand went straight to the pair, then said, "Thank the Alik'r you stubborn Nords are still kicking. Where in the world did you find a pack lizard?"

 

Rebec, still dusting herself off, came along after Baldur. "It's a long story. We met up with a few other desert inhabitants who were, shall I say, less than happy to see us. Ended up at a monastery of the Ebon Arm. That's where this beast comes from. I'm surprised to see things so peaceful here. I expected we might find a bloodbath."

 

"Yes, well. I still hold some respect with the others, it seems. I came in peace, so while Anazar tried so hard to make what you expected happen, it did not, and his followers were willing to listen. Falgrum also helped and assured them you all were coming. Anazar tried to persuade them that you all were gathering an army. Your arrival will obviously gain us some trust, but obviously there's still something bothering them. But they will not reveal it to us until the gathering. Anazar must want me ill prepared to defend myself from the accusations."

 

"Well you're in luck then. We brought a friend along with us," said Baldur signalling to one of his men. The Nord came over with a gagged Ra Gada mercenary and pushed him to his knees.

 

Wide eyed with delight, Kematu said, "Good...now we're getting somewhere. The gathering will commence later in the day. We should take the time to question this man, then come up with a strategy. They'll have a yurt set up opposite of theirs and surrounded in a circle of the villagers here to observe, including our men. They'll have them mixed up so that neither side can organize against the other. We're not the only ones here, though. The Satak warriors are here as well, and they'll be watching. Waiting."

 

"Are they the ones who attacked us?" Rebec was unfamiliar with all the tribal names, and worried about her own and Baldur's inexperience and how that could jeopardize their mission. But mostly, she was mad. The attackers weren't responsible for Suri's injury, but they would have ended all of them if they could.

 

Kematu said, "No, it was Anazar. The prisoner you brought, that will be useful in proving so, as his tongue is not forked. I tried convincing them that was why you were not here, but they wouldn't listen. Now, they must. Though he'll probably say he had no knowledge of it. And since we'll be physically coercing him, his word won't amount for much either. So if you want to blame anyone, it will be that man."

 

Baldur raised an eyebrow as he took note of the name. Payback is definitely something I want...but it seems unlikely that will happen with this setup. And peace is preferable...but...

 

"Take your prisoner by the spring. The others will be arriving soon, as will the entire village," said Kematu.

 

"Fine." Rebec studied Kematu a moment, still not sure that the whole thing hadn't been a setup and he was involved. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the female guide who had accompanied them the whole way- her name was Tala, Rebec had overheard- leave their group and slip into the collection of yurts at the edge of the settlement. They had no friends here. Maybe, the Nords had no friends anywhere anymore.

 

***

 

Baldur watched as the Ra Gada started setting up the meeting area, making up their separate portable tan colored yurts while they watched. When it was finished, Rebec and Baldur's entourage sat around guarding it while Baldur, Rebec and Menel went inside along with the prisoner Baldur tied to a wooden chair. Kematu came in shortly later, looking frustrated and weary eyed even more so than usual. "Okay, so who wants to start? I can translate," he said. The Ra Gada was a lean bald man with a tattoo that looked like a beast's claw swipe over his face. His eyes were closed, but you could still see his frustrated expression.

 

"I've got questions, sure." Rebec stood up from the low stool where she'd been perched. "Did the Crowns hire them? And if so, who, and why?"

 

The man remained silent with his eyes closed as predicted, though did mumble something in Yoku, probably something not polite. Rebec glanced at Baldur, then at Menel. "You got something for this?"

 

The Bosmer shrugged, then stepped forward and cast a Calm spell on the man. The man opened his eyes as if frenzied, then suddenly got a hell of a lot more talkative, though it didn't seem like anything useful. In fact, Baldur was sure he heard him say every curseword in Yoku that there was. Baldur looked to Kematu in confusion.

 

Kematu sighed, then said, "Ra Gada aren't keen on magic users... in fact, our people hate it even more than yours, though there are some exceptions, such as individuals like myself, and we have our own Ra Gada magic. This one's got a strong will it seems, to have resisted whatever spell you used."

 

"Soften him up, Rebec," said Baldur, who was uninterested in why it didn't work. Though he took note of the magic hate.

 

Rebec had actually laughed at the stream of profanity. They weren't any closer to their goal, but she had picked up a few words. "Ah well. I guess we do this the hard way." Earlier she had taped her hands for this reason, having interrogated pirates more than once. Axe hilts and clubs were faster but risked knocking the subject unconscious.

 

Stepping up to the redguard, she grabbed the man's forelock and pulled his head back so that he was forced to look up at her, and said in Yoku, "Too bad your mates aren't here to see you get beaten up by a woman." Still holding his head, with the other she socked him a sidelong blow across the nose with her backhand. Blood spurted out onto the man's tunic and her hand, but she didn't let him recover before hitting him again, then once more. After that, she paused. Just when the man relaxed, thinking the first round was over, she gave a quick kick to his manly assets, connecting with a satisfying thud.

 

Baldur was probably enjoying seeing her work more than he should, and he had a slight smirk on his face when the man gasped in pain from his nethers being assaulted. "Menel, take his armor and clothing off from his chest and arms."

 

The Bosmer's hands had instinctively moved to shield his own nether region when Rebec's boot landed on the redguard's. He mumbled something, not used to all this tough stuff but fascinated by it in a clinical way, and started removing the prisoner's cuirass.

 

Meanwhile Rebec stood back, arms crossed. When the Alikiri raised his eyes to give her a hateful look, she flexed her hand and smiled back. "I'm not done yet. Not by a long shot."

 

"Hopefully after this we will be, actually. Hold his left arm up, Rebec." Baldur lightly pinched at the muscle near his tendons in proximity to his own armpit to signify what he had in mind. The prisoner's feet were tied together, and although his hands were now untied, he knew better than to try anything.

 

Rebec did as she was bid, for good measure prying the man's middle finger from his fist and holding it back an angle. If the prisoner was worried about a finger breaking, his mind would be less prepared for what Baldur was about to do. Menel, meanwhile, was examining the man's armor to try to figure out how he had resisted his spell.

 

Baldur rubbed his fingers on his robe to get the finger oils out for a better grip, then he lifted his boot where some sand still was and used that to wipe on his fingers to make what he was about to do hurt more, as well as so he'd grip onto his flesh better. While Rebec held his fingers, Baldur said, "Tell us who sent you and why."

 

The man said in Yoku that Baldur was the son of a Sload fucked by Molag Bal. Evidently Molag Bal was similar in Tamrielic as it was in Yoku, so Baldur got the gist. With that, Baldur quickly jammed his fingers into the man's arm below the pit at the pressure point, then he gripped it with all the strength he could muster. Then, he pulled. He did it quick, but the damage it did was very apparent. The man had a small bloody hole in his arm with a few bloody strands coming out.

 

Anyone else would have blacked out from the pain, but this man resisted Menel's spell, so Baldur knew he wouldn't. Though, that didn't keep him from screaming out like someone dropped lava on his groin. No doubt the pain was at least doubled from him being focused on what Rebec was doing with his finger before Baldur acted.

 

"While you're at it, break the finger too, Rebec."

 

Before her natural hesitation could make her think otherwise, she wrenched the man's finger back until it made a sickening snap. The man naturally tried to draw his hand in to protect it, but Rebec grabbed it back, heedless that she was further injuring the broken finger. "You'll never draw a bow again," she said in a friendly tone, using Yoku. "Of course I could get my friend here to heal you... but, no. That offends you. Next finger." She grasped another one, giving the Redguard a moment to think it over.

 

"Stop! Stop! I'll talk, I'll talk, you pale bastards, I'll talk!"

 

"Oh, so you do speak Tamrielic! Would you look at that," Baldur said in an amused tone. Kematu wasn't phased by the torture, but he looked impressed at the Nords' handiwork.

 

"Well then traitor, if you're going to talk, then talk," Kematu said. The Ra Gada prisoner looked to Kematu with hateful spite, then spoke in a rare Yoku dialect so Rebec couldn't understand, now that he knew she knew some of the language.

 

"Not...to you. Them," said the prisoner in strained breaths.

 

"Like hell, you traitorous s-"

 

"That is...my price." Turning to Baldur with half open eyes, he said, "I speak to you. But not that one."

 

"This isn't up to him, I said-"

 

"Get out, Kematu," said Baldur. Kematu shot him a glare that he was used to sending to insubordinate members of his merc group. 

 

"Nord...careful. No one insults my honor and tells ME to get out."

 

"Don't you see what he's doing? He expected that. He wants to make us argue. Now are you going to squabble, or are you going to let us get some answers? Get. Out," said Baldur. Kematu's nostrils were flaring now, and his fists clenched, especially at the sight of the weak smile on the prisoner's face, but eventually he did leave. When he did, Baldur walked over to him and yanked his finger back in place forcibly to remove his smile. First question my wife asked you. Who sent you?"

 

"Grah! Damn Nord, Anazar!"

 

"And who does Anazar work for?" Rebec asked. "Crowns or one of your desert tribes with a grudge? Or for the Thalmor?"

 

"Thalmor? Don't insult us, Nord, no one here would ever work for the yellow skins. Anazar works for no one. He does what he does because of the honorable actions of one of our own. Kematu has a spy planted in the service of Jeleen. That spy found out that Jeleen is trying to take over Hammerfell to be High King, and that you are helping him do it. And so is Kematu."

 

"His spy is a fool, then. Or deaf. What you do in your own country is none of our affair." Rebec released the man's hand and walked around to face him, hands on her hips. "Think about it a minute, if that thick skull of yours will let you. We just fought two wars so that Nords could determine their own fate. You think we'd come here and start acting like imperials?  You killed our men and were wiped out yourselves over a rumor as empty as a fart in the wind."

 

"This spy is one of Kematu's personal chosen. He'd never say something unless he was sure. Even if you are not here to do this, Jeleen is. And Kematu. Have you ever considered that Kematu is using you? Lying to you? Why do you think I chose to speak to you in private? And...why he was so insistent on staying in here..."

 

"Of course we've considered that. You Ra Gada love your plots as much as the average Breton. We're here to negotiate continued support against the damned elves, that's all. Not at the expense of becoming pawns in your constant bid to kill each other off. Whatever your man heard, maybe that was Jeleen floating an idea, but there is no pact between him and us." Rebec tilted her head, noticing the man's face was still sweaty and pale with pain. "You want the elf here to spell you or what? He's good. Make you feel like a new man."

 

"No," said both him and Baldur.

 

"No healing for him. Not yet anyway," said Baldur.

 

"No spells. I'll get over it myself. Well if this is true, it doesn't much matter. Anazar is hell bent on taking over the Alik'r. He and a few others think Kematu's spent too much time around you Nords. He'll just think you're lying. You coming straight from Jeleen's palace to here with Kematu only makes you look more guilty. I'm still not convinced myself. You asked me why you'd come after your cause to do this to us? Not everyone believed the words of your Bear of Markarth, so making sure you have soldiers for your war seems possible to us, Thalmor or no. Who's to say you don't have some deal to take Cyrodiil and make this Ulfric Emperor after the war? Like the Talos you all love so much... You're already trying to make him leader of the alliance with the large one here as head general. Anyway, you don't have to convince me, so don't bother answering these questions. It's Anazar you have to convince. And I'm telling you right now, that is impossible. You best prepare for a blood bath. Then another, as the Satak warriors will wipe this place out when a victor is decided."

 

Rebec snorted in disgust. "Isn't there a redguard so-called chief with a lick of sense in this whole country? You want to kill each other off, fine. The Nords'll call this little venture of ours a failure and leave you to it. We can fight the blasted elves ourselves." Turning her back on the Alik'r warrior, she said to Baldur, "I guess we've heard enough out of this sand rat. Let's go find this Anazar. If he wants to taste my axe, he'll get his chance."

 

"No, not just yet. I've been thinking about this on our way here and since you saved me. If this man really is as stubborn as he says, then I think I can deal with him another way. A man who attacks people before he truly knows what they're about...he doesn't care if we're here to take Hammerfell for Jeleen or not. He just wants the Alik'r. And if that isn't true, then he's too difficult and stubborn to negotiate with anyway. So...lets give him what he wants." Baldur dug into his pack for a bit and pulled out some ink and his journal and tore out a piece of paper from it. "Menel, do you know any conjuration?"

 

Menel looked up from the armor, appearing confused, as was Rebec. Stammering, the Bosmer replied, "Well there was that lecture series I attended at the College. 'Atronachs and You.' Where do they come up with these titles. And I read an interesting paper on channeling illusions from daedric auras. I've overheard Veleda's training, though conjuration is restricted strictly to..."

 

"Elf!" Rebec shouted. "Answer the damn question."

 

Ruffled, Menel scowled from Rebec to Baldur. "Basically, no. Not in any practical sense. What did you have in mind?"

 

Baldur bit his lip, looking nervous. He had put a lot on the hope that Menel's magic could once again help, though from the sounds of this man, and Baldur's art of speech, he could probably still make the plan work. Though if Menel could help, it would be a much more successful attempt.

 

Baldur looked over to the Ra Gada behind him, then had Rebec and Menel come closer to him so he could whisper what he had in mind. "Then let me take care of the rest."

 

Menel frowned briefly. "Hm. Ah yes, I see. Could be useful, that. Give me a moment."  He took the parchment and went off to a corner. Patting himself until he found a notebook in one of the pouches on his belt, the Bosmer began flipping through his notes, muttering.

 

Rebec watched him a moment, and turned back to Baldur. Leaning in, she whispered, "Magic tricks aren't going to go over well with the Alikiri. Supposing whatever you're trying here even works."

 

"I'm counting on that, love," said Baldur with a smile.

 

"Axes are faster, if that's what you want." She smiled a little, looking up at him and remembering the empty, lost feeling she'd had when he was missing. Rebec wanted nothing more than to whisk Baldur away and leave war and redguard politics far behind.

 

A flash in the background caught her eye, Menel practicing some spell. A moment later he jumped up, presenting Baldur with a piece of parchment. "Here you are, General. I make no guarantees, not even the boilerplate College of Whispers warranties, which were never much good anyway, if truth be told. Magical liability insurance rates having gone through the roof after the Oblivion Crisis, especially with conjuration, as I'm sure you can understand..." At Rebec's scowl, the Bosmer stopped and laughed nervously. "Hm, yes. Well, I think it will serve. I hope."

 

The admiral rolled her eyes. "Very reassuring."

 

Chuckling, Baldur took the scroll, then started writing on the parchment. Though before the others could see what he was writing, he rolled the scroll up, then tucked it into his sleeve. "Okay, lets see this Anazar. Hopefully this won't be necessary, but who's to say? They should have the meeting table ready by now."

 

"Alright, let's give big tough guy here back to his guards." Rebec pulled the Alik'r prisoner to his bound feet and began leading him, shuffling, out of the tent.

 

Once the others left, Baldur turned off his facade of confidence and pulled out the scroll to look it over. If he had to use this, things could go very wrong, very fast, unless he executed the plan to perfection. It was the only way he could avoid an all out battle in the Oasis if this Anazar wouldn't see reason. "Talos, you may have been a conniving bastard as a mortal, but you were a smart conniving bastard. So, time to take a page from your book. Shor guide me."

 

Walking out of the yurt, Baldur could already see the villagers gathering all around the meeting point. As Kematu said, the soldiers were mixed among the others, all gawking at the two yurts by the spring. In the center of the two yurts, Baldur saw a round wooden table large enough for all the big players to attend. Kematu was standing on the side, waiting for Baldur and Rebec to arrive. He was particularly frustrated now, which was understandable as he was in the dark, which is what Anazar preferred, Baldur imagined.

 

The man in question was standing at the table as well, wearing a black hood with a cloth that wrapped around his neck before trailing to his back, but nothing covering his athletic physique. He also wore tan baggy pants, but no kind of footwear. His body was ornamented with many golden piercings, such as on both nipples, his lip, ears, eyebrows and so on, and he was covered in exotic purple and violet paint designs that looked like what Baldur assumed was depictions of Yoku gods.

 

Before Baldur and Rebec could be seated, the Ra Gada guide woman came up to them and insisted that she let her hold their weapons, as no weapons were permitted for the meeting.

 

"You're not getting my axes for love or money," Rebec told the Ra Gada woman, batting her hand away. "Not after what we went through to get here." To Anazar, she said loudly, "We came here in peace. You lot are the ones who broke your precious hospitality rules and drew blood. You can talk to us armed or not talk to us at all."

 

Anazar blinked, but didn't say anything. Baldur drew his axes and handed it over to the woman. "Just do it, Rebec. Kematu's unarmed as well, and so is this man."

 

"Baldur..." Rebec regarded him uneasily. He was planning something, but that didn't make her feel any better. Finally she spat in disgust and drew out her axes, handing them over. The redguard woman took them, then pointed at Rebec's hip sheath. Snorting again, Rebec unlaced the dagger and slapped that on the pile, too, before turning back to the others.

 

Kematu stood where he was as Baldur and Anazar took a seat. Kematu had a look of hatred on his face as he bore witness to the meeting with his traitorous rebel. Baldur took off his golden square agal like a crown, then placed it on the table. Looking at Rebec, he gave her a reassuring smile as he took off his white kufiyah and Anazar took down his black hood, revealing black short hair twists with reddish brown highlights.

 

"As you know, I am High General Baldur Red-Snow and this is my wife High Admiral Rebec Red-Snow. I speak for the King of Skyrim here, so for all intents and purposes, to you, I am the King. And as such, you should know the ramifications of sending men to attack one such as myself before even knowing what we're about. What did you think that would accomplish? Besides our men pouring into this desert and doing exactly what you feared simply in retaliation?"

 

Anazar blinked slowly, as if he wasn't paying attention to what was being said. After a while, he said, "And what is it that you think I fear?"

 

"Spilling your blood on the sand so that the other clans despise your memory as being too weak to lead them," Rebec answered. "And too foolish. We're not here for Kematu, or Jeleen, or anyone else. We're here because the Thalmor threaten all of us."

 

"So you say. Yet I have inside information that says otherwise. Even if you are here for what you say, you are just pawns to this man, and the fat cow, Jeleen."

 

"You mean the spy Kematu has in Jeleen's palace?" Kematu turned to Baldur as he said this with surprised eyes.

 

"How did you know, Nord?"

 

"The prisoner told us. That's why they think we're here to serve Jeleen. He overheard some words at a meeting with us, and he drew conclusio-"

 

"He overheard everything!" Anazar said, slamming his hands on the table. "Every word."

 

"How about when Baldur told Jeleen where he could shove his bid for kingship, and Jeleen said he had only been testing us by proposing that?" Rebec fired back. "We're going to everyone to ask for this alliance. Crown, Forebear, Lhotun and Alik'r. You came together after the empire abandoned you and fought off the Thalmor. How long do you think that is going to last if they take Cyrodiil? They'll be coming for you again, and us."

 

Kematu and Anazar both shared a look. His was accusing, while Kematu's was of confusion. Kematu had no idea about Jeleen's supposed schemes. His spy reported nothing, though now it was obvious why.

 

Anazar said, "Even if that is true, why would the spy lie? And even so, do you really believe that bakyaka shit? He was testing you? Yes, he was. To see if you'd willingly and knowingly help his bid for king. Instead, he's sent you here to try and thin our numbers by fighting this one who stands watching. He too tried convincing me while you were away. It didn't work. The Thalmor will not be held as an excuse to allow Jeleen to take Hammerfell for his greed. It would be no different to the Ra Gada Jeleen rules with the sword of a foreign "alliance", or if the Thalmor tried to take us again. Here's how this is going to go. Either Kematu stands down as leader of the Alik'r, and you go back to Skyrim, or we all turn the springs of this Oasis red with our blood. That is final."

 

"And how are you any different than Jeleen, then, with your demands?" Rebec replied. "We want no part of your tribal squabbles. If there's to be blood, then let's do it the old way. Your people and mine both settled conflicts in the same fashion. You and Kematu, at arms, to the death. We and all the others here will bear witness."

 

Baldur looked to Rebec, as did Kematu in surprise. Baldur wasn't crazy about the idea of putting everything on the line by Kematu's skill, but it was an interesting proposal. It put Anazar in an interesting position, at the very least. Similar to Torygg. Kematu smiled, thinking he'd finally receive a window to end this.

 

"No," Anazar said, unimpressed by the notion.

 

"No?" Baldur and Kematu both said in unison.

 

"Are you a coward, then? Are you afraid to challenge your old leader?" said Baldur.

 

"I'm not surprised. You took almost half my men on some cause and you were never even Ra Gada enough to come to my face and express your grievances!" Kematu said angrily.

 

"This is bigger than me! This is about the fate of my people and the Alik'r itself! I will not let my own personal pride get in the way of this! Call me coward all you want, but I hold the cards here, and I will not let you take them from me because of pride. You have my demands. Surrender Kematu, leave this place, and let Hammerfell decide its own fate absent of foreign interference! Or there will be blood." Anazar stood up suddenly, then left the table to return to his yurt, leaving the others to talk.

 

"Well that's that, then," Rebec said. "I'm going to get our axes back. It figures we'd have to beat the sense into them."

 

"Rebec, leave the axes," Baldur said. Turning to Kematu who was about to receive his weapon as well, Baldur said, "I came prepared. Let me see if I can make him another offer, got it?"

 

"You're wasting your time, Nord. You heard him. It's over! We need to prepare to do what's necessary. My men all are ready to run from the crowds and fight at my side, and I imagine his are as well. You'd best do as your wife says and prepare."

 

"Not yet. Just let me talk with him one more time, just one. If he still says no, then at least we'd have been sure to explore all paths before us."

 

Kematu sighed and let out a grunt in frustration. "For a Nord, you sure are quick to avoid violence. Whatever, do what you will. It'll be a shitstorm no matter what we do." Kematu walked off to have the Ra Gada guide tell Anazar Baldur was ready to speak.

 

Rebec leaned in to whisper, "If your plan A doesn't work, we need to grab Azanar and cut him down quickly. I don't need my axes to kill, but he's got a strength advantage on me, so it should probably be you."

 

"We can't, it would take too long, and the mercs on both sides would pour in on us too fast. Our only play would be to use the chaos to run through the crowd with our men and escape. We're not dying here for this. But don't worry, it won't come to that, I promise you." Baldur placed an arm around her shoulder and put his head against hers. "You know, right now I'd much rather be in Skyrim making our new house and trying to make our family. But working together like this, it's kind of fun, isn't it?"

 

Rebec brushed at his cheek with the back of her gloved hand. "It's all twisted up. Trading is cleaner than this. But you always got something up your sleeve, and sometimes it actually works." She smiled briefly, and leaned in to steal a quick kiss. It could be the last. Sadly, there wasn't more time to share words, as Anazar was already making his way back to the table, evidently expecting the Nords to give in already. Though Baldur held Rebec's hand under the table to let her feel what it was he wanted to say then but couldn't.

 

"Well, Nord? What is it? Do you accept my demands?" said Anazar, looking at Kematu. He could tell something was up, as Kematu didn't look like a man who was about to give up his forces.

 

Baldur had to stifle a laugh when he realized Rebec's words about him having something under his sleeve proved in this particular case to be rather literal. He pulled the small makeshift scroll from his sleeve and pushed the parchment over to Anazar. "My counter offer."

 

Rebec was just as curious as the redguard at what was on the page, but she gave it only a brief glance, and kept her eyes on the men- and on the door, where she expected an ambush as soon as Anazar gave the signal.

 

When Anazar opened the paper, what he saw instead was a list of supposed offerings of peace to be given to him and his warriors in exchange for existing in peace with Kematu. Baldur wrote over the syllables, disguising them as other words instead. When that proved impossible, Baldur simply scratched them out and made it look like errors. The magic was already sealed into the paper, so one could not deactivate or mess anything up by doing so. Something he learned long ago from reading. Anazar's eyes went wide on some of the offers, and he looked over the paper towards the yellow haired Nord to see if it was a joke. "Your penmanship is horrible. I imagine your swordsmanship is just as sloppy. Which explains...this."

 

"Just keep reading. Read aloud so Kematu and my wife know the terms," said Baldur.

 

Anazar chuckled with amusement, and said, "This won't work, but fine. High General Baldur Red-Snow of the Independent Kingdom of Skyrim, hereby offers one Anazar, leader of the Alik'r Warriors for his alliance and cooperation in Hammerfell for the fight against the Thalmor menace... 15,000 gold coins from the King's coffers, the city of Dragonstar in its entirety, title as Thane in the land of Skyrim, a tax free trading relationship for Dragonstar as long as Anazar is ruling said city...."

 

Inwardly Rebec gagged, but she kept her expression stony, not wanting to give away that something was afoot. "What's the matter? Not generous enough for you?"

 

"Ha, not generous enough? I'm surprised he hasn't offered me you yet in this thing. Too bad..."

 

Baldur's eyes suddenly flashed in acute hatred at that moment, though he forced himself not to act. It took everything in him not to, and his grip on Rebec's hand tightened, though not too much. You'll pay for that.  Rebec only snorted in disgust, shaking her head. She gave Baldur's hand an encouraging squeeze.

 

Anazar continued naming offers until he finally approached the last line and said, "All of these offers upon the agreement of Anazar are official upon his signature in the name of High King Ulfric Stormcloak and.... Rebbabo? AE AXE CE ALTADOON, The e-, huh?"

 

As quickly as he spoke the ehlnofex word for weapon, a burst of purple light flashed in front of everyone, and before anyone knew it, besides Baldur that is, a large shimmering Daedric sword appeared and forced itself in Anazar's grip. As surprised as everyone was, no one was more surprised than Anazar himself. The crowd stood silent as what was a boring event of staring at figures they couldn't even hear turned into one of treachery and bold cowardice in full display of everyone.

 

Anazar's shock turned to anger as he saw Baldur's smug grin on his face. Everyone stood from the table at once, but it was Anazar who struck first. Baldur was expecting Anazar to strike at Kematu before anyone. Though while that did happen, it didn't happen the way he expected. Anazar in his anger moved to strike Baldur down where he stood, and while he was ready to dodge it, Kematu acted too fast and jumped across the table, taking the full impact of the magic blade across the side of his arm, and the upper portion of his face, slicing off part of his ear before he hit the sand, bleeding.

 

Anazar too was shocked, but he was pleasantly surprised to see his enemy do something so foolish. That didn't last long. Before he could move to take down the Nord as well, Baldur was already on him, pushing the whole table to the side to get to him. Anazar thrust his blade towards Baldur's middle, though the Nord sidestepped it and pushed his sword-hand away with Baldur's left hand as his right hand grabbed his throat. Using both their momentum to his advantage, Baldur lifted Anazar off the ground and slammed him down by his neck. Before the Ra Gada warrior could recover his lost wind, Baldur already brought the blade as it still was gripped in the Redguard's hand into his exposed gut.

 

"Y-you...conniving pale skins...you're no b-better than the elves. And now my p-people will forget me, thinking me the coward."

 

"Don't worry, I'm a bard. You'll be remembered in song when I sing of your failure to my children." Anazar tried to say something, but blood filled his mouth and his throat, preventing him from speaking. The sword then dissipated, though Anazar continued to live, albeit barely.

 

Baldur looked around at the gawking crowd. A group of Alik'r warriors came running to see to Kematu, but for the most part, everyone else was still shocked that Anazar would stoop to magic and deceit.

 

Satisfied at this reaction, Baldur looked down into Anazar's eyes. Through them he could tell he was fighting desperately to cling to life's edge. Deciding to help him let go, Baldur stuck two fingers in his wound, wriggling them around roughly to cause the Ra Gada prodigious agony. As he began to cough from choking on his own blood, the Nord General stood up and stomped his head in, sending him falling into the void of death for good.

 

Rebec had been ready to help Baldur subdue the man, but as it was apparent the Alik'r warrior was bested, she merely stood with flinty expression and watched him die. He had tried to end them using surprise and deceit, and had found the storm swallowing him up instead. She stepped to her husband's side and took his hand again, giving him a little smile of satisfaction.

 

Baldur watched as the Alik'r helped Kematu up to his feet. After he stood, cheers from all around them thundered, calling him 'Kematu the Honorable' for his selfless deed. Even the men who had rebelled against him. Approaching the couple, he said, "I don't know what gods blessed us, but thank the gods they did. I don't know what possessed him to be so stupid. And to use conjuration to do it... Well done, you two. Glad you didn't die. Couldn't risk your Kingdom retaliating for it."

 

Rebec smiled grimly, pleased that no one had guessed at Baldur's trick. "At least the trouble seems to be over. I suppose congratulations are in order. You better see to that wound. We can talk later about how we'll go from here, in regards to the alliance against the Thalmor."

 

"You worry about the other Hammerfell groups. Now that my people see Anazar for the treacherous swine he is, there's no need for negotiating. All I ever wanted was to kill those elves. You can tell Jeleen the Alik'r will be joining his militia, once we've worked out an agreement for my men's hiring. I don't like calling us mercenaries, but it's true we don't work for free. But then, no one does. We'll focus on the Satak now, work to get back to controlling the Alik'r. The upstarts will either fade or be absorbed. The only matter I need to attend to is finding that spy. If you report back to Jeleen, say nothing. I'll deal with it myself when I go speak to him. And be honest about me planting a mole in his midst."

 

After Kematu finished, Baldur nodded, then lead Rebec away towards the other Nords and Menel. "See? I told you, I always have a plan, though I owe that one to the Arcturian Heresy. And my next plan says we deserve a break."

 

"The Arctu..." Rebec grimaced. "More elven nonsense?"

 

Menel rushed up to them, gesturing with his staff and practically dancing with glee. "So, it worked? I told you it would work!"

 

"It sure did, my stinky Bosmer friend!" said Baldur, pulling Menel to him to scratch his head forcibly with his knuckles. "If not for that, I'd have had to try to piss him off myself. I made him summon the blade by hiding the words under a list of offers. Then we had free rein to kill him. I was just saying to Rebec how the Arcturian Heresy was the inspiration, sort of. Make the Ra Gada think he was attacking us as Tiber was claimed to do with his battlemage after trying to soul trap Wulfharth. Good thing no one noticed the paper disappear after he summoned the blade."

 

Looking to drive Rebec crazy with elf talk, Baldur said, "I didn't know the scrolls used ehlnofex words. Is it always like that? I recognized the word for weapon from Vivec's teachings."

 

"Keep your voice down," she replied, elbowing her husband and grinning. "We got away with it, but not if someone overhears you two boasting. And I don't want to know anything about scrolls or ehlno-fucks or that eastern devil. You two babble about that if you want. I'm going to go take a piss and then maybe pass out. Or eat something. I could eat a bakyaka."

 

"As sure as day ends with the fall of the sun, Rebec rides in to ruin our fun," said Baldur whilst smiling, though he realized she was right. Sometimes it paid to at least have one practical person in the relationship. "Anyway, we could all do with some rest, but not for too long. I'm tired of this desert and I want to leave as soon as we can. Menel, tell the men I said be ready to leave in the morning. We'll see about swinging back for a trip to Stros M'kai. That's where we need to go for the Crowns anyway. Oh, and the prisoner. They know what to do with him."

 

"What about Dragonstar? The Nords and Nord allies there won't like that we gave it back to Iliac Bay. Or maybe they won't care, since as far as I know, that's been the case anyway for all purposes."

 

"We haven't given it back yet, but we'll need to discuss the terms with them, allowing those Nords who still live there to stay there, unless they agree to leave when compensated by the Ra Gada. But we can take care of that later. We could send another delegation there, but I suppose we should do it ourselves. Either way, it can wait for now. Bigger bears to slay. Besides..." Baldur leaned in and whispered in her ear. "It's time to get to the honeymoon part of the honeymoon, don't you think? I say we deserve a break. And if someone disagrees...**** them."

 

Grinning, Rebec nodded. "Alright. Dragonstar is probably the least of our problems. Though those might end up  famous last words. Maybe since we laid the groundwork, Ulfric can send another delegation overland, to Dragonstar and Elinhir. I should really see to the navy side of things, and the redguard navy is in Stros M'kai."

 

It didn't take a lot to convince her. They had already had enough brushes with death for one trip, and with what she now knew she was carrying inside her, their time had to be spent wisely.

 

At the entrance to their tent, Tula, their Alik'r guide, was waiting with their weapons. "You carry death in your hands, Nords."

 

"Best your people remember that," Rebec answered icily.

 

"It is not the worst thing." With that, the Alik'r woman turned and disappeared again. Rebec looked after her, puzzled. That had been a compliment?  It was obvious they were no closer to understanding the desert people than when they'd come.

 

***

The remaining journey out of the desert was largely uneventful. They encountered more sand wraiths and nearly fell into the burrow trap of a huge desert spider, glass-colored and more spindly than the frostbite spiders they knew from home, but easily defeated. There were no more casualties.

 

At the monastery, they found Suri up and about, though not yet engaging in sword training. The Ansei had her reading and studying mathematics and philosophy, saying that she had a lot to learn and unlearn. In private, Asafu told Rebec and Baldur that he feared Suri's heart would never be strong enough for the exertions of battle.

 

"Don't count her out," Rebec replied. "You did that once already."

 

Asafu smiled. "The student teaches the master. You are right."

 

Two travel days later, before the gates of Sentinel, the Alik'r guides took their leave and their last pay. Tula gestured at Fafnir. "He wants to go home again. He can find the way."

 

Rebec turned to regard the giant pack lizard. "Is that so, Faffy?" The creature flicked his big tongue at her placidly. She turned to Baldur. "What do you say, love? Maybe we can get the stables here to put him up for a day or two, give Timur and Cy a chance to ride him. Then we've got to let him go. Not much use for a beast like this in Sentinel, let alone on a ship or in Skyrim."

 

Her husband's look was disheartened, going from her to Fafnir, then to the guide then back. Baldur tried thinking of something to say, though he only stammered, as there was nothing to say, really. He supposed he should have known they couldn't keep it, but they just got it, and already he'd grown attached. He never had a pet of his own, let alone one so fantastical as this.

 

"I guess we'll have to let you go, then. All kinds of dangers in that desert of yours. Hope you'll be okay. The kids should have fun with you while we're gone. And Suri will like you too, I'm sure."

 

After rubbing the side of his head for a short while, Baldur realized if he stayed too long, he was going to embarrass himself, so he walked ahead abruptly towards the gates. Rebec watched Baldur with the beast, curious and touched to see him so attached to it. She gave instructions to the stable owner and paid him in advance, then ran to join her husband.

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Tacitus, Gracchus

Imperial City

Midmorning

 

Tacitus slept late, the drunkenness of last night still affecting him. This had been the third night this week he had Maori had been out drinking, and it was starting to take its toll on Tacitus. They both figured that they deserved to drink, after all that had happened, but today was to be Tacitus' first day back, and he was already quite late, so he dressed quickly in his black vest and white shirt with his trousers and boots, along with his cutlass and scabbard, and hurried outside. It was then he realized that he had no idea where Maori was, so he ran back inside and and went to Maori's room, which was Tacitus' guest room. He found it empty, except for a note that said he was gone to the arena to catch a few matches.

 

Lucky bastard, Tacitus thought, but heading back outside onto the bustling streets.

 

There, a few guards awaited to escort him, as they had ever since he arrived. It was a new policy implemented with the recent assassination attempts, so the High Admiral went along with it, although begrudgingly.

 

"Before we go to the place, I have something to do. The Market District," he told the guard in front, who just saluted then pivoted and began walking at a brisk pace to the markets.

 

The crowds were already thick, in the Market District, with peddlers peddling, a few street performers dancing or juggling or spouting off some song. The guards pushed through the crowd, with yells of "Move!" or "Out of the way!" to make sure the message was clear.

 

"Right there, the smithy," Tacitus said, pointing.

 

He'd heard about the place from General Ceno, when they were discussing their swords. In fact, many of the officers had taken a liking to Gracchus' saber, and had been coming to Iver for their own weapons. So, Tacitus figured it the best place to get exactly what he needed as well.

 

The guards stopped in front of the blacksmith, and Tacitus entered the shop, while two followed him in and the other two stayed outside.

 

"I'm looking for Iver," Tacitus said in his gruff voice, to the man behind the counter.

 

Hakar was quite used to Legion soldiers entering the shop nowadays, so he didn't hesitate to get his fathers attention when Tacticus asked.

 

"Pa. We've got visitors! Legion men," he called towards the open door, that one could feel heat emanating from. He was doing his best to not look too long at Tacticus' stump, though his curiosity was probably obvious.

 

"I'll just be a minute," Iver shouted back, flattening out one last piece of iron. After he finished, he took a rag and cleaned his hands the best he could and stepped out of the forge room. "And how can I help ya out today?"

 

He extended his hand, making sure to match it with Tacticus' good hand.

 

Tacitus gripped the man hand firmly, and was glad to see the man knew how to properly shake someone's hand.

 

"I'm High Admiral Tacitus Meridius, and you most be Iver. Your son?" Tacitus asked with a nod towards Hakar.

 

"That's my name indeed! And ya, that's my boy, Hakar."

 

He glanced back with a bit of a stern look, as he had caught the boy staring at Tacticus' stump. He didn't hold the look long, as Hakar was quick to realize what he was doing.

 

"Now, you said High Admiral?"

 

"He's a strong looking lad," Tacitus said with a slight smile, "and yes, High Admiral. Recently back from Thalmor custody. Where I got this."

 

Tacitus held the stump up, the clean cut and cauterized flesh where his wrist should be.

 

Hakar's eyes lit up at the High Admiral's mention of returning from the grips of the Thalmor. He was going to say something, but his father had already began to talk.

 

"He does a lot of heavy lifting, that's for sure," Iver said, obviously beginning to lighten up. "And damn, back from Thalmor custody ya say? I didn't know that was even a thing. Most people who are taken don't come back."

 

"I'm one of the lucky ones, though I wouldn't say I'm in the business of good luck. I had some help in escaping, because as you can see, I needed a hand or two," Tacitus chuckled at his joke, thinking it would serve to lighten the mood a little more.

 

Hakar didn't hesitate to share a laugh with Tacticus, and not even Iver could hold back a smile from the pun.

 

"Well, don't ya worry then. Hakar and I are always willing to lend a helping hand. Is there anything specific you need? Swords, shields, armor, I do it all. Your comrades seem to like my work too."

 

"So I hear. General Ceno recommended you, but he was only the first. It got to the point where it seemed almost everyone had some sort of knife, chest-piece, or shield from you," Tacitus said, still slightly smiling, "But, I have something I think you'll enjoy working on more than your average blade."

 

"General Gracchus, huh? He's a good man. He doin' alright? As for your request, you've got my attention."

 

Iver got a curious look in his eyes, waiting to hear more about this request from the High Admiral.

 

"I've got this idea, for a gauntlet, but with different attachments. A buckler could attach at the forearm, which would make it hard to knock off, and where the hand would go, maybe a knife, or an axe, or a hook. Not all at once, mind you, but I'd like to be ably to switch off if need be. I'd also like the ability to adjust, with leather straps maybe? Well, what do you think?" Tacitus asked eagerly, hoping his ideas weren't too farfetched or outlandish.

 

Iver ran his fingers across his temple for a second, trying to take the request in.

 

"Let me make sure I got this all right. You want a gauntlet with interchangeable parts? That it?"

 

It was easy to see Hakar's interest in the matter. His eyes were huge, and his head was cocked to the side slightly. Both him and Iver waited intently on Tacticus' response.

 

"That's exactly what I want. Is it too much?" Tacitus asked, worried over the temple rubbing. "It is a lot to take in, something new as far as I know, but I'm just the first person. Think about after the war, how many men will come home from the battlefield missing arms, legs, hands and feet. This could open up a market for ya, I believe."

 

Iver nodded his head a bit at Tacticus' words, but one could tell he was deep in thought.

 

"You know, I would love to make this for you... but there's something I gotta ask," he said, rubbing his temple again.

 

Hakar was looking at his dad with curious eyes, wondering what kind of information his dad could possibly want that would make this gauntlet possible.

 

"I swear to the gods, if you have some convoluted joke up your sleeve man, I'll have a mind to knock you about!" Tacitus said sarcastically, chuckling a bit as he did.

 

"Oh, I don't think there will be any need fer that. My question is," Iver said. He didn't intentionally pause before the question, though it caused Hakar's curiosity to skyrocket. "What material shall we make this newfound gauntlet out of?"

 

"I'm not sure. Something lightweight, but sturdy? I have plenty of coin, so you may factor that in. The job of admiral doesn't pay as well as you might think, but I'm a frugal person, always have been. You're the blacksmith, you tell me what material you would use," Tacitus said, although it probably sounded gruffer than he meant.

 

Iven nodded his head at the High Admiral's input, before finally pointing at a material that Hakar brought over.

 

"I've got just the thing. Here, how does this feel to you?" he asked, motioning for Tacticus to take the sample, which was a mix of mithril and quicksilver.

 

Tacitus lifted it in his right hand, tossing it up and catching it to get a feel for its weight. "Will it hold up? It feels light enough, but I'm not too sure about its strength," said Tacitus, brow furrowing slightly.

 

"Leave it to Hakar, he should be able to test it's strength. He's a strong lad, after all," Iven said with a grin.

 

Iven fastened the mixed material onto a practice target, and then motioned for Hakar to grab his steel hammer. Hakar did so, and then took his best shot at the sample piece of armor.

 

"URGH!" Hakar grunted, putting as much power as he could behind the swing.

 

Iven motioned for Hakar to come back over.

 

"Why don't you be the judge of that? It's going to be worn by you, after all."

 

"Strong indeed," Tacitus grabbed the ingot out of Hakar's hand, and looked it over. The only indication of where the hammer had hit was a scuff market, as the slightest indentation. "I'll be damned, that held up better than I expected. You'll do it then? Make the gauntlet?"

 

"It'd be my pleasure. It's not everyday someone walks in with an idea that could help a lot of people out ya know? Now, about the attachments, I'll need a list as I'm afraid my memory ain't the best."

 

"If you'll find me a quill and parchment, I'd do that for you. I've for several in mind, from traditional to strange. It'll be fun for you, I'm sure," Tacitus said, smiling again.

 

Iver looked at Hakar, who immediately fetched Tacticus a quill and some parchment from under the counter.

 

"I'm sure I'll have my work cut out for me, in a good way of course," Iver said with a smile.

 

"Thanks," Tacitus said, then scrawled out a small list of times.

 

Hook, Knife, Sword, Axe, Buckler

 

"I think that will do it. Have any more questions?" he asked, handing the paper to Iver.

 

Iver scanned over the list, and then nodded his head in satisfaction.

 

"No, I think all of these will work just fine," Iver said. "The only thing left to discuss is price, and I have a policy with custom jobs."

 

"Name it," Tacitus said simply, prepared to pay whatever he needed to for this gauntlet.

 

"We'll get to that soon enough. First, my policy. If you don't like what you get, I'll make it again free of charge. On my honor. Now... for a price. Hakar, what do you think?"

 

"I don't know pa, we've never made one. But looking at the size of your hand, and the attachments listed. Uhh. How about 3,500?"

 

"Damn, your boy drives a tough bargain. I'll pay, and I accept your policy as well. Do you want payment ahead of time, or after completion?"

 

"We can do whatever you want. I don't expect you to try an' steal from me, so if you want to pay when you've got your gauntlet, I'll say fair enough. Though the sooner you pay, the better," Iver said with a grin.

 

"I'll be by this afternoon then, with the coin. If that's all, I've for work to do, and I'm sure they'd have my tail if I show up any later."

 

Iver motioned towards the door, signaling he was free to leave.

 

"Then I'll see you in the afternoon. Nice to meet ya, Tacitus."

 

"Nice meeting both of you as well. G'day," Tacitus said, leaving with his escort right on his heels.

 

Several minutes later, after more crowd wading and yelling, they finally managed to reach the palace. Tacitus bid the guards farewell, ascending the stairs up to his office. He walked in, sighing with relief that a massive pile of papers didn't await him. Instead, a package sat centrally on his desk, in a female's handwriting. He didn't recognize it, nor was there any signature, so he pulled out a letter knife and opened the end.

 

He tipped the package over, and out poured schematics, blueprints, all kinds of plans and drawings of a massive, winged ship. "By the gods," Tacitus muttered to himself, as he realized what it was.

 

Plans to the Thalmor Sunbirds? How is this even possible? It had to be there tightest kept secret, if they even kept plans on paper at all, he thought, not even realizing he had already begun walking to General Ceno's office.

 

He burst through the door, tossing the plans onto the desk of the grey haired general, interrupting a very boring report about leather distribution.

 

"Excuse me, but a knock would have been a fair warning before you burst in here. And then you throw papers all over my desk, drawings of a b-gods, is this what I think it is? How in hell did you come by these?" Gracchus asked, awestruck and dumbfounded.

 

"I didn't do anything. They were just sitting on my desk when I came in today. Seems we've got some friends in very, very high places in Alinor," Tacitus said, leaning onto the desk with hand and stump.

 

"But, can they help us? I presume so, otherwise it would be fruitless to give them to us," Gracchus said, leaning back with one hand tracing his goatee.

 

"You're damn right they'll help. You see this," Tacitus sorted through the papers until he found a schematic unlike the rest, that showed a blown up portion of the back of the bird, panels crystalline in nature, "that's the power source, giant mirrors that harness the sun. And that crystal in the center, the one that looks like a giant soul gem, I would expect to be the secondary power source. Both tough as hell I'm sure. How we'll destroy it is beyond me, but you being a mage, surely, you could help," Tacitus said eagerly.

 

"I'm terribly sorry, but this is far beyond my capabilities. Skjari, the court-mage, may know, or the Synod or College of Whispers, but I know someone just as close who should be of great help, and would take a great interest in a project like this. Endar Drenim, in Kvatch, is staying with Count Brutus. I can send for him, or-"

 

"No, I'll go myself. This is too important a task to risk a messenger f****** it up. I'll leave tomorrow, see if Maori wants to go. Damn, this could change everything. I can't even begin to think about how much this cuts down their naval advantage."

 

"No doubt it will turn the tide in our favor. I would send word to the Empress, before you leave. She will want to know about something as major as this."

 

"I will. S***, this is a welcome back gift."

 

"Yes it is," Gracchus said simply, watching as Tacitus practically strutted out of his office, and Gracchus smiled as he watched him leave.

 

We will need some a few miracles if we are to win. Looks like the first one has already arrived. And thank the gods for it.

 
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Dales Moitre, Lilly Quentas, Mary Quentas (Witchking Of Angmar) 

Afternoon,

Imperial Palace, 

 

"Your majesty, Countess Mary Quentas wishes to speak with you." Dales looked up from her desk to see Captain Imperius saluting,

 

Hmmm a relative of Lilly?

 

"Send her in."

 

Soon afterwards walked a young and pretty looking woman with brown hair and a plain but elegant green dress. She stopped before Dales and curtsied. "Good day, your highness. I'm Mary Quentas." 

 

"Your a relative of Lilly?" Dales for a second glanced at her wholesome breasts

 

"I'm her cousin. I came to the city to visit her and Helen. And I heard you fell ill some time ago. But Lilly told me it was something worse than simple nausea." 

 

"I...don't know what your talking about." Dales said firmly,

 

"Of course you don't." Mary said with a small and kind smile. "But there's no need to dwell on the past. I came to see how well you've recovered from your 'illness'." She glanced at the maid by empress's side and then back to Dales before taking a seat in the chair opposite of Dales. 

 

The red headed maid put her hand on the empress's shoulder, in a rare display of warmth, dales put her hand on her hand and said kindly,"Raine, get us some tea please." Raine gave a bow, before leaving the room, waiting for her to leave dales said, "Fine."

 

"So how's your recovery been? I hope Lilly have been of much help nursing you back to health." 

 

"Lilly's been giving me herbal brews to nurse my physce. She's a wonder in herbal medication."

 

She is. You look healthy too. A proof that her potions work. Probably healthy enough to carry an heir soon." 

 

"Yes...of course. As soon as I find an edible husband, first thing is to solidify the claim."

 

"You don't look so happy about the prospect of becoming a mother." Mary said with a slightly worried and sympathetic voice. 

 

"It's not that..." 

 

"So the rumors are true? The maids and..." Mary cut herself off and let the rest of the sentence go unsaid. 

 

"Of-" For some apparent reason, this woman made Dales feel very nervous, and she herself...very alluring, "That's preposterous....I simply think I wouldn't be the best mother."

 

"I think you would make an excellent mother if you just gave it a try." She said with an assuring smile and tone. 

 

"I want...a little girl."

 

"And I'm sure you'll get one in due time. You'll just have to be a bit patient." 

 

"I'm in no rush. Busy enough trying to hold the empire together."

 

Mary glanced over her shoulder towards the door. "When do you think the tea will arrive?" 

 

"Raine usually takes awhile, its worth it since her tea is perfect."

 

"I'll take your word for it." She made a pause. "And how have the council been treating you after your illness. Surely they must have put their disputes with you to the side to give you time to recover."

 

"The council is being very kind. Lord Esmerduls visited me yesterday."

 

"And what did he say? I don't mean to be nosy. But I'm curious."

 

"Just a few pleasantries."

 

"At least that hopefully shows the Empire is on right path." She paused a little. "I talked with Helen yesterday. Lovely girl, once she feels secure to talk to you that is. She told me she's your... handmaiden now. Is that correct?"

 

"Yes. Very timid, bit she seems like a kind girl."

 

"What do you think of her?" 

 

Dales stopped for a second, 

 

What do I think of Helen? 

 

"Well...she's sweet, respectful, a bit shy, but that's to be expected of someone her age. She has poor social skills and manners, but that's acceptable. 

 

"Do you think she's doing a good job as your handmaiden?" 

 

"Excellent job. She works very hard, and obey's very well."

 

And her face is adorable...

 

"I am pleased to hear that." She ran her hand up to the necklace that had a small golden leaf. She felt at the leaf a little bit before lowering her hand. "So how goes the hunt for a husband? I've heard a bit of rumors already. But I want to hear it from the source." 

 

"Very fine. Many potential candidates. I can assure you, all rumors are simple speculation." 

 

"You're right, they're just rumors. And I bet Lilly would be a bit upset if you took away her toy."

 

Dales eye's sharpened, and she lost her friendly smile. They were as cold as ice, and sharp as daggers, 

 

"Toy?" 

 

"I'm sorry, your highness. But Lilly once jokingly called him that. I'm sure it was no ill meant." She said almost submissively and she also looked a little ashamed. 

 

"Ah you must be referring to my court mage. I'm aware of the Tryst he's had with her." 

 

"How long till the tea? I'm getting a bit thirsty." 

 

As she said that, Raine entered the office, with a tray which held a porcelain tea pot, and a set of fine tea cups. A small plate with biscuits were also present, Raine, smiled warmly at Dales, 

 

"Made with my special ingredient Dales." Dales gave her a sly grin and nodded, before pouring both women a cup. She gently began to sip. Raine bowed, before leaving the room.  

 

Mary also took a sip from her cup. "Can I ask what the special ingredient is or is it a secret?" She said with a soft smile. 

 

"Secret." She didn't return the smile, 

 

Love

 

"My condolences for your family. Must be a shame to have a disgrace like your cousin Milly apart of it." 

 

"We don't speak of her. We've also struck her name from all of family records. She's not a Quentas anymore. She doesn't exist to us." Mary's voice got a little stiff as if speaking about something unpleasant. 

 

She smiled, "Tell me, did you know she was ******* a werewolf? Or did you find out after he stole all that money?" 

 

"All I knew is that he was a really odd fella till I heard about the incident in Solitude in Skyrim. But at least Lilly managed to get back a sizeable portion of what Lorgar stole." 

 

"Your cousin is a remarkable person, as was Milly. As was her Husband. And it seems, you are too, Mary." She continued smiling at her, "By the way, what perfume are you wearing, milady?" 

 

"Just a little something from Chorrol. It's distilled from some of the common wild flowers that grow in the county."

 

"It smells lovely." Dales showed off her eyelashes, causing them to go up and down,

 

"You think so your highness?" She gave a kind smile in return. 

 

"You are a very lovely person Mary, are you by any chance married?" 

 

"Sadly I haven't found anyone worth the effort." But she said it with a hint of eagerness in her voice and she ran her hand up to the golden leaf again. 

 

"What kind of "men" Dales put a strange emphasis on that word, "Interest you?" 

 

"Those that can be both firm but still flexible. Someone that knows what 'he' wants." 

 

Dales got closer,  leaning over her desk, and whispered into her ear, "Am I firm, yet flexible?" 

 

"Is that so?" She looked at Dales with a little surprise. Mary rose up from the chair and walked around the desk to Dales. When she got close she put her left hand Dales's shoulder and leaned down to whisper closely in her ear. "How flexible?" At the same time she let her hand slide down the shoulder and down the arm

 

"Very."  Dales let out a slight moan at her soft touch, 

 

Mary ran the hand down to Dales hand and picked it up and brought it to her breast as she put the other behind her head and brought the empress in for a kiss. When she had Dales attention she reached out with her right hand to Dales tea cup and her pet stuck out of the sleeve with a small vial in the mouth. The vial contained a liquid with a color mixed between purple and pink. Mary grabbed the vial from the snake and the snake then put the teeth into the cork and quietly pulled it out. Mary then dripped a few drops into the tea cup while she was busy sticking her tongue deep into the young empress's throat. When she held up the vial the snaked corked the vial and grabbed it in it's mouth and moved silently back deep into the sleeve. 

 

Mary carefully sat down in Dales lap and grabbed Dales tea cup held it up to Dales as she pulled back from the kiss. "More tea your highness?" She said with a warm smile. 

 

Dales put her hand to Marries....private area, and told her rather lustfully, "Only if you pour it for me into my mouth, my lady."

 

"Of course, your highness." She said and then brought the cup up to Dales lips. 

 

Just then the door busted open, revealing a guard, "Your majesty-" As he glanced what was going on his face blushed, "What....."

 

Mary turned her head quickly towards the guard and in the surprise dropped the cup of tea into her own lap where it then bounced down on the floor, spilling some of the tea on the side of her own dress as well as a little on the front of Dales dress. She quickly got up from Dales lap and backed off a few steps before she bowed. "I'm so sorry empress."

 

As if awakening from a trance,Dales voice regained its steel, as she backed away, "Quite alright. Sergeant, Lady Quentas was just leaving.Escort her out." The soldier quickly regained his professnialism, and nodded "Your majesty."

 

Mary nodded herself and started walking out of the room without another word. She also put a hand on the side where the tea had spilled and the wet stain quickly vaporized. And with quick steps she walked past the guard without paying him any attention and down the corridor

 

On her way Mary, stumbled upon one of Dales hand maids, the one who poured the tea for her and Dales, Raine

 

"Hello dear. Raine was it?" Mary stopped and said to the passing maid. She smiled a gentle and reassuring smile.

 

Raine gave her a cold look, "Yeah, whose asking?"

 

"Mary Quentas. I spoke with the empress when you brought us tea." Mary still maintained her gentle and kind voice. 

 

"A relative of Lilly? Your certainly not like her at all..."

 

What do you mean?" Mary got a curious look to her. 

 

"Half of our conversations involve of us bad mouthing each other. She has a huge potty mouth.'

 

"I'm sorry to hear that. What are you arguing over? I don't mean to be nosy, but I might be able to speak with her about it." 

 

"Nah its just for fun. We love teasing each other before the bedroom." If anything Raine was very straight forward.

 

"Oh." Mary paused for a bit. "Do you share bed with the empress as well? I saw the smile she gave you." 

 

"Really shouldn't be giving out Dales sex life, sorry miss."

 

Mary leaned a bit closer and lowered her voice. "It's fine. You can tell me. I almost got a taste of it myself if it wasn't for a little guard interrupting." 

 

"Oh?" Her eye brows raised "You'll keep it secret?"

 

"Of course I'll keep it a secret." 

 

"Me and dales go way back. Been her maid since she was fourteen. Yeah, I've slept with her quite a bit over the years. Have had a few orgies with her and the other maids."

 

"Other maids? And does Lilly sometimes join these... orgies?" 

 

"Kongami, Claudia, Floentia" Her face filled with intense sorrow, "Miku." She continued, "Nah. I've offered, but she says she's busy. She works quite a bit."

 

"Miku?" Mary's face got a worried expression at the sorrowful maid. 

 

"One of Dales maids. She passed away recently. Disease. Her and Dales were very close."

 

"Disease? Wouldn't the mages have been able to take care of that?" 

 

Raines face was unchanged, "Both Dales and Lord Snow-Strider were away. Before anyone could do anything, she was far gone."

 

"Is this related to when the empress fell 'ill'? I've heard the rumors." 

 

"No she was away visiting family." Raines voice was particularly nasty "All rumours are simply rumours. Spread around by gossiping noblewomen who have too much time on her hands."

 

"So Lilly has been lying to her own cousin?" Mary said skeptically. 

 

"Oh?"

 

"Lilly let her tongue slip once. She immediately dismissed as a rumor afterwards. But I'm not so sure. I'm just worried about the empress health and mental state. And don't worry, I wont tell anyone." She said in her gentle voice and gave her reassuring smile again.

 

That dosen't sound like Lilly...her lips are sealed shut, Raine thought, 

 

"Her majesty has been through quite a lot. Which is why I offer myself as stress relief for her. There's nothing to be worried about."

 

"That's kind of you. If it's true, being gutted by her own best friend. The betrayal must have hurt more than the dagger." 

 

"I have duties to attend, excuse me my lady." Raine said, blank faced as she turned around. Unknown to Mary, she was heading too the office of the spymaster.

 

At first Mary frowned at the maid leaving her but then she let a small smile creep onto her lips. And with that she started walking down the corridor.

 

Later 

 

Lilly smoked an expensive Argonian Cigar, as she walked through the garden. Helen was a marvel with flowers, and her tender care kept the flowers healthy. Lilly was clad in full black Occultus plate, along with a long black cape. At her belt was a broad sword, along with a dagger,

 

As Lilly looked over the garden she saw Mary sitting by a tree and reading a book. She was still wearing the plain green dress where she sat in the grass, leaning against the broad tree. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be asleep as she didn't react to Lilly's presence. 

 

"What the hell are you doing here, "dear" sister?" Asked the furious looking spymaster.

 

Mary opened her eyes and looked at Lilly. "I'm visiting my dear sisters. And I'm also bringing a couple of news from home." 

 

"Oh please. You've never considered either me or Helen "dear", Marry."

 

"Who's to say the good times of our youths have changed so much? We're still family." She said gently. 

 

"I still consider Milly my sister. You see how we treat each other. Family is never saying much, I'm afraid."

 

I'm sorry to hear that. I still hold you and Helen in high regard. Whatever you may think of me." Mary's voice was filled with a low sadness. "And about home: We got a new member. Nice girl." 

 

"You ignored and gave her the cold shoulder the poor girl with all the other harpies when she was little, simply because she was plain. I highly doubt you regard her with anything." Lilly sounded angry, "How is that news?"

 

"Well the new girl is young and comes from one of the minor families in the north of the county. The Cecia family. There's also begun a small petition whether your sister should be formally excluded from the coven now that's she's practically left us. And Rose has taken on a new apprentice. You should go see her by the way, remove that wrinkle and smooth out the skin. No ill meant." 

 

Lilly's  hand crushed into a fist and her face was pained, "Those idiots. It's not her fault." 

 

"She left us. Whether it's her fault or her husband's. I'm sorry, but there's nothing anyone can do about it now." 

 

"Who forwarded the petition to the council?" 

 

"Your mother. She said she felt this chapter about her daughter should be closed. Milly left us to go her own path. She should not be tied by us then." 

 

Damn you, 

 

Lilly turned around, and slammed her fist into the tree. "****, that bitch, along with her whore of a husband." 

 

"You think she liked what she put forward to the other sisters? She said: 'If Milly wants to be free. Then we shall let her.' She said it reluctantly and with tears in her eyes."

 

"Yeah ******* right. Mother doesn't care about her daughters, only there uses to her."  Lilly was feeling awful inside,

 

What the hell have I done...I...hurt her. I'll never...be able to see my own sister again...

 

"I'm sorry. At least you have Helen."

 

That brought Lilly to reality, she was pissed, "I still havn't payed you back for what you did to Helen when she was younger." Pure venom laced her words, "You told the other girls to ignore her, didn't you?!"

 

"I did not. Why would I do that? You remember Floria? She was the popular girl at the time and she ignored Helen. And everyone wanted to be like Floria, so they mimicked her and ignored dear Helen. I was busy dealing with other things and I'm sorry I couldn't have been there for Helen." 

 

"Your deceiving forked tongue falls on deaf ears, snake. Your just like your pet, Asmodeus." Lilly angrily snarled at her, as she practically spat, "I dont know why you were coming onto her Majesty Dales this morning, but you stay away from that girl, you hear me?" 

 

"She just wanted some fun. And so did I. It's just a little harmless sex." 

 

"I know for a fact Dales hasn't slept with anyone for a month. Why would she start now, with a person she doesn't even know? She's troubled. That girl is vulnerable, and I wont let you take advantage of her." 

 

"She hasn't? Her behavior said otherwise to that of a troubled and vulnerable girl." 

 

Lilly caught a scent...she reconised it, "Perfume. What perfume are you wearing, "dear" sister?" 

 

"It's just a little something made from the wild flowers in our county." 

 

 "You know how skilled I am in alchemy, Mary dont play dumb with me. You intoxicated her majesty." 

 

"No I did not. I just... heightened her senses a bit. Don't tell me you've never done so yourself."  

 

Lilly rushed forward, and grabbed Mary by the throat with her black gauntleted hand, slamming Mary into the tree trunk. Her Lapis Lazuli eyes filled with hate, and anger, "You think you'll get away with messing with the mind of my lady?!" 

 

"You've worn the same perfume yourself to get some fun. What makes it so wrong for me to do the same?" 

 

"I don't do it to mentally traumatized girls!!! I try to help them with there problems, not ******* violate them." She began to squeeze,

 

Mary choked a little. "You can't kill me. You can't hurt me. For if you do, the coven will have you for your crime. I... only wanted a little fun." Her voice was still quite calm. 

 

Cursing, Lilly threw Marry onto the grass beside the tree, and angrily said, "Listen to me, and listen well, Marry Quentas. When ever you see a wayward shadow, it's me watching you. When you see a dark man in the tavern, that's my eyes trailing you. When you hear a noise in the forest, that's me haunting you. You wont piss, eat, or **** without me knowing, bitch." She went over to Marrie's downed body, and gently cupped her face with her gauntleted hands, she smiled. "If I ever, hear your near Dales or Helen, I will personally, embed my blade into your stomach, cut your body into little pieces, and feed you to you pet.  Do you understand?" Lillies eyes became soulless, as her ocean deep orbs stared into her, 

 

"As you wish. I'll pack my things and leave as soon I'm done. Get me a carriage if you want me to get as far away from them as soon as possible." 

 

"Already done, including your bags. There's a loaded carriage, along with a squad of imperial legionaries waiting for you at the city gate. I recommend you go...now." 

 

"Could you let go of me then so I can get up?" 

 

Lilly got off the women, and moved to the side, 

 

Mary got up on her feet and brushed some dirt of her dress with a little magic as help. She didn't seem that bothered by what had just happened to her and when she was done with her dress she gave Lilly a slightly amused look. "You will not always be here, dear sister." With quick steps she turned around and started walking towards the garden exit. 

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Baldur and Rebec

Stros M'kai, off the southern coast of Hammerfell

afternoon

 

Rebec sat perched in a chair and draped forward over another one. Wearing nothing but her underclothes, she was still sweating while the redguard man behind her worked away. Occasionally she cast Baldur a look or smirk where he sat across from her, though she tried to keep quiet, and eventually closed her eyes and tried to doze. The minimal pain from the tattooing didn't bother her in the slightest.

 

"What's the T for, anyway?"

 

Stirring, Rebec answered without looking back. "It stands for Talos." She cast a glance at Baldur and smiled.

 

"Never knew you as the gods-fearing type, Red Eye."

 

"That's Red Snow. And I'm not, but you got to admit, these are the times we live in. Everybody in Tamriel nowadays is marked by Talos in one way or another."

 

"Not usually so literally," the tattooist muttered as he went back to work.

 

Baldur of course wasn't crazy about the tattooist working on her in her underclothes, but he did a good job not letting that get to him or show. After all, she was willingly marking herself to match him. The notion was more than touching to him, which made it hard for him to act wary of the tattooist even if he wanted to be, given he was too busy smiling back at his wife when her eyes met his.

 

He was back in his Ancient Nordic armor now that they were thankfully out of the desert. His right gauntlet and steel armband was resting on the floor however, so his arm would be ready to be tattooed as well with an arm band, since Rebec had one. He too wanted to match.

 

After reaching a hand out to hers, he said, "If you must know, it's because I got branded during the war as a prisoner in the same spot. We're taking a grim thing and making it better. If I were being honest with myself, I'm not truly as into Talos as I proclaim either. But he is Ysmir, like Wulfharth, and an extension of my patron Shor. And this will represent our right to do what we want as well as our bond."

 

The tattooist raised a brow at this account, but said nothing. Rebec squeezed Baldur's hand. "The thrice-damned Thalmor branded him," she added. "Things like that make you wish for vengeful gods."

 

"The elves aren't making friends, that's for sure." The man straightened and inspected his work. "Done. You want to take a look?" This last was said to Baldur. Not that there was much to a plain "T." Rebec had decided against any kind of flourish. Her arm band was made with sparse, plain hash marks. The hawk of Kyne on her hip was about as fancy as her tattoos got. These were warrior markings, not pretty adornments.

 

Baldur stood from his chair and took a look at the man's work. "I like it," he said, smiling from thoughts of seeing it again later in more private circumstances. "To bad you can't see it, love. But I sure can, hehe."

 

"That's kind of the point," Rebec answered, grinning. "Alright, your turn." She stood and retrieved her clothes, lazily pulling them on while Baldur took his turn in the chair.

 

After returning from the desert, they had passed a day or two in Sentinel giving their report to Jeleen, spending time with Vilnur's family and preparing the ship, then had sailed south to Stros M'kai. While there were elements of the redguard navy all along the coast, the forward base was on this island, known in the past for its pirates more than any official presence. The redguard admiral was out to sea, however, so they had some days for rest and exploring while they waited for his return. Rebec and Baldur were looking forward to their long-awaited honeymoon. In the meantime, Mazoga had convinced Menel and some of the other crew to take an excursion of a different kind, exploring a dwarven ruin on another island off the coast.

 

Baldur's adventurous senses made him want to visit that ruin as well, at first. But this day was turning out to be much better than trying (and failing) to scare Rebec with elven tales while staring at ominous looking ancient dwemer metal faces on the walls. While he was thinking about what he wanted, his desire for something with a snake on his arm made him think of how Kematu was faring against the Satak warriors, and if they too would submit to him or not eventually.

 

Kematu sent some of his goons to apprehend the spy, and Jeleen sentenced him to death by "Day of Cuts". The Alik'r men spent the entire day slicing the man with precision, until he died. He was left in the heat of the sun in the desert, where his sliced skin would roll up from him and fall off, effectively but slowly flaying him to death. A worthy death for a traitor, they all agreed. Though no one ever found proof of who he worked for. He claimed it was the Satak warriors, which they had no choice but to believe. Jeleen forgave Kematu for having a spy in his midst, now that Kematu was working with him and the Nords. Even if it wasn't for him like he wanted. Yet.

 

The tattooist brought over a book of some various cultural designs for armbands in Tamriel. The Nord and Breton designs looked quite similar, almost to the point to where he couldn't tell the difference due to their partly shared ancestry and culture, so Baldur didn't mind that the design he picked was actually Breton, not Nordic. The armband had some sort of furry dragonhead on it, so Baldur told the man to replace that with a king cobra head and a snake tail.

 

Rebec nodded approvingly at the design, then said, "This will take a while, so I'm going out to make some arrangements for our trip. Medul here will take good care of you, love."

 

They were staying at an inn near the docks. Rebec looked in on their parents, then went to hire a little skiff that could take them up the coast to a remote private cove she knew about. A merchant who owed her some favors had a fishing hut there, small but more lavishly appointed than some people's houses. It would be a perfect place for a honeymoon. The merchant said he would send his steward to prepare the hut and take supplies for them, but that it wouldn't be ready until the following day.

 

Satisfied, Rebec returned to the tattoo shop, carrying bottles of chilled coconut water for herself and Baldur.

 

While she was gone, Baldur was struggling trying to deal with the pain of the tattoo being applied to his skin. He didn't know why it hurt so bad, he'd been hurt worse than most people ever would have in their entire lives. Unbeknownst to him, the torture he received still effected him in small ways. One of those ways being that when adrenaline wasn't pumping, his sense for pain was made more acute. Luckily for him, the healing he received dulled this consequence greatly. 

 

But that didn't stop the tattooing from feeling like a dagger was being dragged over him. When Rebec popped in, he straightened his face, so as not to look like a big baby. Casually, Baldur said, "Oh you're back. Look, it's almost done." Thank Kyne's sweet sweet ass. Gods, this hurts like a bitch!

 

Rebec handed him his drink and stood back to watch. Noticing the tension in his face- she knew it too well by now, no matter how hard he tried to hide it- she grinned a little. "He's almost done. You probably should have picked something with less detail." To distract him, she went on, "We're all set for our trip but can't go til tomorrow. Not as exciting as the Dwemer ruin, but less likely to get you a blade trap up the ass. Maz likes those creepy pits, though. Says we never have time to see any in Skyrim. As if I would anyway."

 

Baldur was about to say he was fine, but another sharp wave of pain in his arm made him change his mind. "She should be glad of that, I read reports every so often about some foolish snowback recruits trying to explore some. The same Chaurus and Falmer I told you about were reported to be living in those ruins. Hopefully Mazoga only runs into blade traps and nothing else. Doubt they have those here. I'm not too jealous. What we're going to be doing will make the moons blush red... mhmmm, hehe."

 

"What, sleep in?" Rebec gave him a mischievous smile. "Are you sure you're going to be up for it? No offense, love, but you're looking pale even for a Nord in Hammerfell."

 

"What? I'm perfectly fine! And I'll be glad to prove that to you tomorrow, you'll see. By the time I'm done, y- Ow!...wwls. I'll...get..you an owl," said Baldur pretty weakly, obviously trying to play off a cry of pain. "Just never you mind, I'll be rearing to go. You should be hoping you can keep up with me."

 

"Do you two want the room to yourselves for a while?" the tattoist asked, deadpan.

 

Rebec laughed. "Just hurry up. I can't bear to see my man cry unless it's me applying the torture."

 

He was putting the finishing touches on the snake by then, and finally pronounced it done. "Damn, Baldur," Rebec proclaimed proudly. "You're all tatted up. I think we should do the other arm." Baldur was grinning like a khajiit taking body shots of skooma off a tavern wench, flexing his arm to admire the work. That was until Rebec suggested doing another one.

 

"Ahh, maybe on our next trip to Stros M'kai, eh? I'm sure the nice man would rather not hear more about what we plan on getting up to, isn't that right Medul?"

 

"He'd take the other half of our coinpurse gladly, wouldn't you old man? I was just kidding anyway. Can't have Baldur passing out the night before our honeymoon." She elbowed her husband, then started counting out coins for the tattooist.

 

"Always a pleasure, Captain Rebec. Keep sending your green crewmen my way."

 

Outside, she said to Baldur, "We've got some time to kill tonight. How about I take you to a real historic dive? There's five taverns on Stros M'kai now called the Draggin Tail Inn, all of 'em claiming to be the tavern from the stories about Cyrus. Only a few people know where the real one is and that it's actually called Lucky Lu's. A real knife-em-up bar. We ought to be able to get in some trouble there."

 

Rubbing his hands together, her husband said, "Trouble? Sounds fun to me. Haven't had a tavern brawl in a while. Anything to make up for the milk drinking in the tattoo shop..."

 

"Alright, we'd better go spend some quality time with your ma so she'll bail us out of jail if need be."

 

Vigge had departed to an old sailors' club, so they spent the day walking around the open air market with Ysana. Stros M'kai was a seafaring island through and through. The buildings were ramshackle and painted in bright colors, not built to last so much as to be replaced at little expense after a big storm or a change in ownership. There was every kind of merchandise laid out, both for the tourists and in the storefronts of warehouses meant to lure in the wholesale traders. Its position as a naval base hadn't slowed down the black market, Rebec observed. Flashing a little coin was all that was needed to be shown the merchant's "special stock."

 

Rebec made some trades to fill the Black Wisp's cargo bay for the trip home, and then they had a meal at a barbecue pit Menel had raved about. He had apparently made the rounds of several of them on their first day on the island. The Bosmer suggested the smoked pork with moon sugar glaze, but Rebec opted for green chile lizard.

 

Baldur didn't know what to get, so he just decided to get whatever the heck it was Rebec said she'd get. "I'll get the drinks while you get the food, dear. Don't suppose they have mead here either, so do you want an ale? Or that sujama stuff?"

 

"Just a melon juice for me," she answered. And then Rebec realized the flaw in their plan of a night of hard drinking at Lu's. She didn't think a mead now and then would hurt anything, but was afraid to slip into her old habits of hard drinking, which she thought might have contributed to her baby's death.

 

Baldur gave her an acutely perplexed stare, then said, "A melon juice? Getting old on me, are you? I'm seven years older than you though dear, but whatever you say. One melon juice coming up, hehe." Baldur didn't waste any time arguing or giving her trouble for her drink of choice, given that he was too damn thirsty to wait too long. Ra Gada ink torture tended to make one parched.

 

She mumbled something in reply and speared her lizard. Menel was right, it was pretty tasty lizard, though she had a moment of guilt thinking she was eating some lesser cousin of Fafnir.

 

To Ysana Rebec said, "What do you think of Hammerfell, ma? Ready to go back to Skyrim yet or do you need more adventure?"

 

"I've had plenty of time in Skyrim already, dear. It's not going anywhere. This place is as alien as anywhere I could have dreamed of as a little girl. Believe me, I'm just fine right here, for now. So, Baldur doesn't know yet I take it?" she said, picking up on what the change of drinks meant in her expression.

 

Rebec choked on her bite of lizard, then stared at Ysana. "Do you read minds or is it that obvious?"

 

Ysana smiled triumphantly, then said, "Women's intuition, honey. I can't believe it, I knew it! I'm going to be a...oh dear, I'm old..."

 

Rebec bit her lip and glanced around to see if Baldur was coming back. "I haven't told him yet. I didn't want to, what with all the..." She stopped before she'd have to explain just how many times they'd faced death in the desert. "... stress of the mission. He's got a lot on his mind. And I'm not sure... you know, maybe it won't... take."

 

Ysana was going to try to comfort her, but she knew Baldur could come in at any moment. She remembered how she felt when she was pregnant. It was a much different situation then. But she knew how important it was that she revealed it when she was ready. "Say no more, hon. My lips are sealed. Just don't wait too long, or he could take it the wrong way, okay?"

 

"I know. He gets weird about that kind of thing." The man himself was on his way back then, so Rebec went back to her meal and tried to look innocent.

 

That night, after they had returned to the inn to drop Ysana off and heard Vigge in his room already snoring, Rebec stopped Baldur in the foyer and said, "I'm kind of tired. We'll go to Lu's and just have a drink or two and come home, eh? No bar fights."

 

"Want your rest for tomorrow eh? Ha, I'm just kidding, that's fine. I'll stay on my best behavior. Come on then," he said, placing arm around her shoulder. He thought something was a little off with her, but not enough to say anything about it. Perhaps she was getting tired of Hammerfell.

 

After getting to the tavern, Baldur made sure to place his tired wife in a corner table away from the hubbub of the other people there. He took the time to admire a large picture in the center of the tavern as a centerpiece of a slender athletic looking handsome Ra Gada man with Yoku writing on his arm and a scimitar in his hands. Near the bottom of it, the framed painting said clearly 'Cyrus the Restless'. He stood there a while until another Ra Gada man bumped into him, then excused himself, in which Baldur remembered what he was doing and continued to bring he and his wife some drinks. Melon juice again for Rebec, of course.

 

Rebec was looking around to see who was there, who was doing deals, and the ones it was best to steer clear of. She didn't see the man coming before an arm slipped around around her shoulders and a voice spoke in her ear. "Girl, you are a sight for sore eyes."

 

Jumping, Rebec turned. "Bel!"

 

"The very same." The man flashed a toothy grin and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. He had big barrel arms, the short sleeves showing his scars and that he had visited the tattoist, as well. His were more colorful, though, and made up mostly of Yoku symbols. Glossy black hair was affixed to his head in short braids, and he wore gold rings all up the lobe of one ear. "Thought I was dead, huh?"

 

"Or in prison." At his look, Rebec laughed. "You were in prison."

 

He raised his hands, expression innocent. "The wind blows this way some of the time, that way the other. I been out a year now, but I don't come mainland much anymore. You won't believe it, but I got my own island."

 

"The hell you do."

 

"On the map and everything," he insisted. "Bel Island, pretty as a picture. Pretty as you."

 

Rebec stirred nervously. "Listen..."

 

He pressed on, "Got me some good contracts now, though. War is good for business. Always has been. You got some shore time, I'll take you out there to the island, treat you like a queen."

 

"I can't."

 

"Come on, Rebec. Be like old times. In fact, we can go tonight. Lose the big fella over there and meet me at the southside quay. Who's he anyway, one of your brother's friends?"

 

Baldur almost froze where he was. He almost couldn't believe what he was seeing from where he was when he came over with the drinks. What happened next, he could hardly control when he saw another man with his arm around his wife's shoulder kissing her on the cheek. Whispering. And Rebec didn't immediately sock him in the face? That was just as well, as Baldur was over there quicker then he knew, laying one on him before placing his hands around his throat in a death grip.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Rebec saw Baldur hurtling towards them, fist first. By the time she got a yell out, the two men were on the ground. "Baldur!  BALDUR!"

 

Bel Aksim had been jumped more times before his fifteenth year than most men were all their lives, so he was already reacting as the Nord came at him. For a big man, he could also move fast. He tried to dodge the punch and only took it glancing, and as the two men fell he was already rolling to get out from under the pin. They were half under a table, so while he tried to hold Baldur off with one hand, Bel reached up for a bottle that was teetering on the edge. Baldur saw the man grabbing for the bottle, so he dragged him away from under the table and punched him in the nethers before getting him in a better chokehold, pinning his arms down with his greater weight by resting his knees on them. He heard Rebec's call, but seeing her do nothing to push Bel off made him angry at her as well, so he ignored it for now.

 

Finally he let go some to let the man breath, but he spat on him as he regarded the man under him. Turning to Rebec, but keeping an eye on the Redguard, he said, "EXPLAIN!"

 

Rebec was going to jump into the fray, but after watching the two men roll around she changed her mind and stood back with her hands on her hips. If they wanted to act like two little boys, she wasn't about to stop them. "Explain what?!" she shot back at Baldur. "We were talking!"

 

"I got this, Rebec," Bel heaved, grappling back at Baldur and planning his next move. "This pig-brained... Nord... messed with the wrong... redguard..."

 

"You don't look like you got this, and that pig-brained Nord is my husband!"

 

"Husband?" That took the wind out of Bel's sails. He still held Baldur's arms at bay, but regarded him like something washed up from the open sewers.

 

"That's right! Her husband!" Turning to Rebec fury eyed, Baldur said, "You call letting him kiss you and putting his arms around you talking, Rebec? Maybe I should invite Narri to our new town so we can just 'talk', hmm? You think that's okay?!"

 

Muttering, Rebec shook her head. "He just kissed my cheek, you ass. Get up. You two look like you need to get a room yourselves."

 

The Argonian innkeeper had come over. That was Lu, so called because his Saxhleel name was unpronounceable. "Sorry, Lu," Rebec said, turning to him. "No tables broken or anything. We'll just be on our way."

 

Meanwhile Bel used the distraction to kick Baldur in the knee and push him off in order to get to his feet. Baldur was about to go back at him, but he let him go for now. "Oh ok, so you're allowed to let men kiss you now huh? On our 'honeymoon'? I'll remember that next time I see one of my 'friends'. That's who this is, right? One of your bedmates?"

 

Looking to Bel, he said with strong venom in his voice, "Well listen here, you little bitch, if you so much as touch my wife, even a handshake, I'm going to cut your limbs off and feed you to a crow." Baldur unsheathed an axe to show that was no idle threat. It crackled with electricity as he did. "I will NOT be Toki. I love you too much for that, Rebec."

 

At that, Rebec put her own metaphorical weapons down. Stepping closer to Baldur, she laid a hand on his arm and held his eyes. Her voice was tender. "It's nothing like that. You know it's not. Let's just get out of here."  Turning to the redguard, she said, "I'm sorry, Bel. Uh... meet my husband, Baldur Red-Snow."

 

"Yeah. Nice to meet you." Sarcasm laced the sailor's voice, as he straightened his clothing. He had more friends in the bar than the Nords did, and these were gathering around him, spoiling for a fight. Bel appeared about to say something else, but then he only looked at Rebec a moment, muttered a curse and shook his head, turning to walk back towards the bar.

 

Rebec's eyes returned to her husband. "Can we go now, or you want me to draw my axes, too?"

 

Baldur was watching the others approach and thought about doing just that, but Rebec's voice did something to him. The way it sounded made him feel even more sick than he already felt. His words cut the wrong person. He closed and averted his eyes from her in guilt and to avoid shedding tears from his testosterone induced anger, feeling very much like the fool he was for accusing Rebec of such a thing. So finally he did sheathe his axe, stepping out of the tavern in silence.

 

Rebec pushed through patrons grumbling about there being no bar fight after all and ran after Baldur. Coming alongside him, she looked at his face, trying to figure out how bad this was. The streets were thronged with street musicians, prostitutes plying their wares, and with drunks and those on their way to being drunk, so she had to keep dodging and weaving through them all to keep up.

 

One of the women on the boardwalk grabbed Baldur's arm as he passed. She was a dark-haired woman with olive skin and a flower in her hair, maybe an imperial. "A Nord! Come dance with me, big man. I'll warm you up."

 

Before Baldur could answer, Rebec shoved an arm between them and pried the prostitute's grip loose. "He's dancing with me, thank you."

 

The woman made a disappointed face and went on to the next prospect. That wasn't the last of the night ladies who approached, attracted by the sight of Baldur's gleaming armor and the fact that he was cleaner than most men who walked by. Rebec's glare kept them at bay.

 

Finally, when they got to the quieter part of town where their inn was located, she stepped around in front of Baldur to halt him. "Talk to me."

 

Baldur still avoided her eyes in guilt. Now that his blood flow had slowed and he could think more clearly, he knew Rebec wasn't thinking of doing anything, even if the Bel character did. It still bothered him though, and he did have questions. "Why didn't you push him off the way you pushed that whore in the street off me? You didn't even tell him you were married until I came."

 

"I was getting to that part. It's still strange for me, you know? And he's a friend. I wasn't going to hit him with the flat of my axe just for kissing my cheek. You wouldn't knock Boldir on his ass for doing that." Rebec stopped, and added, "If you could knock Boldir on his ass, that is. Which is something I'd pay to see."

 

If I had to... "You also never screwed him, either. He's not just some friend, Rebec. This man saw you in your most vulnerable. I don't consider anyone I was with like that a friend anymore. Because I know how it would make you feel. Even if you don't the other way around. He's a man, Rebec. Men don't think like that, not really. Not after you've had sex. If you let him, he'd have jumped at the chance first chance he got."

 

"I know, but there was no chance of that, so..."  She stopped, sighing in frustration. "I suppose I should find this gallant or something, but it makes me feel bad, like you don't trust me at all. You don't own me, Baldur. I told you that when we fought about the name. Maybe I rattled your skull one too many times in that fight and you forgot. I can un-rattle it, if you like."

 

Baldur sighed and shook his head. "I know that. It isn't about trust, I can't make my body stop feeling what it feels. You put a woman through a table for the same exact thing. What happened to you're mine and I'm yours? I don't own you like an object, but you are my wife. Can you honestly tell me you'd be okay with Narri hugging up on me and kissing me? You trust that I wouldn't sleep with her or leave you for her, but does that make seeing that any better? Knowing that I shared a bed with her?"

 

"Hey, horker breath came after me," Rebec replied, poking a finger at Baldur's chest. "It's not the same. Alright, so I enjoyed grinding her face into the floor almost as much as splitting Thalmor skulls. But what happened between me and Bel, or me and Toki, or..." Realizing she was reminding Baldur that there were others out there, too, she quickly ended that line of that. "Anyway, what's past is in the past. But you got to at least give me a chance to get the words out. These are my friends, these sailors, and people flirt even with other men's wives. It doesn't mean anything unless I make it mean something. And you know the only man I want now is you."

 

"I'm not a sailor, Rebec. I know the only man you want is me, but I cannot, and will not put up with another man you slept with placing his hands on you like that. Meeting them and talking to them is one thing. I still would obviously be uncomfortable with it, but I wouldn't try to kill them. But you are my wife. If you can't understand how that makes me feel, then fine. I'll just have to beat their face in every time you let that happen. I honestly can't believe I'm the bad guy for feeling this way..." Baldur walked away towards the inn now, tired of talking. Turning back around briefly, he said, "Hmph, still think I'm too good to be true?"

 

"Maybe." Angry again, Rebec pushed past him and stalked up the stairs to their room. Inside, she started getting ready for bed, muttering about stubborn, jealous Nords.

 

Baldur considered briefly sleeping on the floor in Ysana's room, but he realized doing something like that could be the beginning of the end, so he made himself go to their room to again face his wife. It wasn't because of what she did or said. It was more because he knew his jealousy was toxic, and he still felt guilty about it. It left a burning sensation in his gut that made him just want to stab it out.

 

He took a bit to get to the room, wondering what he should say, if anything. When he entered the room, he avoided eye contact for a while, stripping his armor to put on his night pants. His back was starting to ache, as it did every now and then from the scars, but the stress of tonight made it feel worse. His tattoo was itching and burned slightly, so he got some ointment from his pack from the Whiterun healer and sat at the edge of the bed.

 

He was about to put it on in silence, but instead, he waited and said, "I really don't even know what to say. We've never had a real argument like this before, so I'm not entirely sure how to deal with it besides saying that I love you more than anything in all the world. My love is great, but unfortunately that means so is my jealousy. And I know that it's not healthy. You're the only woman I've ever cared about like this, so I can't help it. And for that, and making you think I don't trust you...making you feel chained to me, all of it. I'm sorry." He didn't know if that made it better or not, but he said all he could, so he started rubbing the ointment in on his sore skin so he could sleep soon.

 

Rebec glanced over, instantly melting again at hearing Baldur contrite again and sounding more confused than angry. She still hesitated, though, wanting to stay angry. This had been what she'd always fought against, having a leash on. If Baldur shadowed her every move, she was afraid the old need for independence would emerge again. It seemed important to beat that out of him while they still had a chance. But maybe she had just enjoyed the attention from a man, and let Bel talk for a bit too long.

 

Pondering this, she wandered closer, then reached to take the pot of ointment out of his hand. "Here, let me." She sat down on the bed and started gently rubbing the medicine onto his arm, frowning in thought. "I knew Toki occasionally slept with other women. He'd talk about his customers, and sometimes his voice changed when he mentioned this or that one. I thought I liked the way we did things. It seemed freeing, not to have to think about everything I said or did, scratching an itch if I had one and knowing he'd always accept me back anyway. This is new for me, Baldur. I don't know what the rules are anymore. But if you had any idea how I felt about you, there'd be no cause for you to be jealous."

 

Baldur thought about the tattoos they both just got, and everything they'd just been through recently, and even before. "I do know. That's why this is so unbearably confusing for me. I've never felt jealousy like this. I hate it and what it turns me into."

 

Putting the ointment aside, Rebec touched his cheek to lift his eyes towards hers, then tickled his beard as she liked to do. Smiling, she said, "It's not the worst thing, Baldur. We're both still new to this. It's strange, being here with you. This is a sailor's world, not a soldier place. I didn't realize til we came here how much my life had changed. I still wouldn't want it any other way." A bit of worry creeping into her voice, she asked, "Would you?"

 

Baldur smiled from the tickling despite himself, then straightened at the question. "Of course not. I'd rather have this fireball inside me for you, then nothing at all. I wouldn't bother tussling with you about this if there was nothing worth fighting for. Or rather, if there wasn't everything to fight for." He lifted his hands and reached towards her head slowly, as if he wasn't worthy to do so. He ran his fingers through her hair, holding her head gently on her sides, then said, "I...don't know what to say. Love feels like such a weak word to use right now, but I'd rather be sent to Coldharbour than hurt you."

 

"Dallying with Molag Bal, eh?" More confident again, Rebec slipped her arm around his waist. "I just worry you think less of me because of my past. You had your women, but you weren't married at the time, so maybe you think it isn't the same. It wasn't a year out from our wedding in Riften that Toki and I both knew we'd made a mistake. We were Nords, though, so we preferred making a hundred new mistakes to admitting one."

 

Exhaling from relief that they were done arguing, Baldur placed his arm around her shoulder. "You two may as well have been single by then, so it's not like you were betraying him. I don't think less of you, I knew when I first met you that you were a strong person with potential. Though maybe that was my pants talking, heh. It had been a while. Pants talk or no, I was right, High-Admiral, Savior of the Sea of Ghosts." He smiled proudly at that, before continuing.

 

"We are who we are. I knew about your past coming in this. Well, most of it. I just tend to not think about it since it has nothing to do with us. So when it came shooting out so abruptly like that, just suddenly seeing him there...I just went a little crazy."

 

"Maybe you could just turn it down a notch or two," she replied, grinning. "Instead of MURDER, more like shoulder shoving and tunic pulling, that kind of thing." Rebec kissed his nose, then stood to finish brushing her hair. Over her shoulder, she said, "How do you suppose the old Nords did it? Rebec the Red and all those husbands she had. Must've kept a schedule or something."

 

"Uhh, hehe, that's a good question. Probably the way they always did things. Through proof of might. Or maybe she just chose whoever she felt like being with. I'm sure the pity husbands had it the worst."

 

"I've got no pity for anybody, so you don't have to worry about that." Rebec tossed the hairbrush aside and leaped into the bed next to him. The cheap inn bed creaked dangerously at her exuberance, threatening to collapse into the floorboards. Turning to look at the bedspring, she said, "I guess we ought to pity your ma and the other neighbors and not test this thing out tonight."

 

"Yea, you're probably right," Baldur said. He then rolled over and put an arm around her before closing his eyes to try and sleep.

 

Then again, pity was for fools and Rebec the Red. A short time later, the sound of creaking bedsprings and a slamming headboard was loud enough to wake the dead from Sovngarde.

 

***

 

By the next day, Baldur woke up a lot earlier than he ever would have before, almost around five or six. Which was good, since they had to leave a bit early anyway and have their stuff ready. With all the stress from the night before being forced out of him in only the way Rebec could manage, he was well rested and once again in a tizzy over the trip they were about to take. As far as he was concerned, last night was just a warm up.

 

He took a glance over at his wife's slumbering face, which caused him to grin happily in excitement. Not only for the trip now, but also because once again they proved that they could and would make this work no matter what. He was about to stir her by shaking her gently, but in the spirit of the day, he smiled mischievously as a better idea came to mind.

 

Rebec's nose itched and she brushed a hand over it, smearing the drool in the process. A moment later she realized what was going on down below and her eyes flew open. "Oh... hey. G'moning. Did you.." Baldur's hand had moved deeper and suddenly even half-asleep Tamrielic failed her. Clutching his arm, Rebec gave up on conversation, though he certainly had her attention.

 

He chuckled from the satisfaction of seeing her reaction, which made him consider treating her further the way he loved to so much, but decided against it. He'd save his bard tongue for later. For now this was simply an exhibition taste for things to come, but that didn't mean he couldn't indulge her a little. 

 

Moving down, he rubbed a rough finger with his right hand at the surface of her clit while he simultaneously moved two of his left fingers inwards, moving them upside down and as if they were legs 'running', almost like scratching at the top of her warm dripping insides.

 

Her body jerked once and she gasped, closing her eyes and holding on to Baldur's arms as if drowning. She was fully awake by then, though more from instinct than anything else, she rolled her hips, riding his fingers. That felt so good that she almost finished right then. The quivers over his hand told him that she was close. Rebec drew it out longer, though, her body arching into his. It was one of the best parts about this kind of pleasuring, being cradled as well as indulged.

 

He had since then moved back to hold her, now that it was evident she was close. He straightened his fingers to move a little quicker, working to please her so that she could finish. Smiling, he cradled her head while he worked, whispering about how beautiful she was and by doing so, breathing his warm breath lightly upon the rim of her ears before kissing her neck gently at first. Then more urgently to match the increasing tempo of his fingers and her hips.

 

Rebec turned her head and leaned in to catch his mouth, kissing him passionately and in the same tempo as his fingers moved. The mixture of love and arousal was more intoxicating than any drug. When she could no longer keep up the kiss for gasping, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders more tightly and held on, saying his name, while the waves moved over her. As the passion eased she kissed at his ear and cheek, grateful and having forgotten all about their arguing the previous night.

 

"Sweet gods, Red-Snow," she breathed, turning to kiss his mouth again, this time more tenderly. As she did so, her hand slipped under the sheet to see if he was as caught up in the moment as she was. He was. And evidently so, as the Under King was standing at full attention, cocking back and pulsating from excitement. When she grabbed at him, Baldur was distracted by her kissing, causing a surprised groan at her touch.

 

"Maybe we shouldn't. Not yet." He didn't say this as an objection, more like a suggestion. Though the way he was worked up today, it probably wouldn't matter. Ysana also packed another one of her goody bags for them. Regardless of any of that though, Rebec had a hold of him and he wasn't going anywhere one way or the other.

 

"I think we should," Rebec said, smiling against his cheek. "You've got it in you, I'm sure." She had already started to caress him, feathering her fingertips along his under side and lingering at the tip. Her kisses continued along his neck and down his chest. There she paused, her fingers encircling his head in a constant gentle pressure while her mouth and tongue teased at his nipple. After a few minutes of that torture, she sat up so that she could devote both hands to the main event. Smiling up at him, she stroked him with one hand while the other cupped and caressed him underneath. Riveted by the sight, she was tempted to climb astride him, but held herself back. They could save that for later.

 

Sensing him close, Rebec loosened her grip and leaned forward, letting her breasts do some of the work. By now she was breathing hard as well, almost as aroused as he was.

 

Gods...that was about all he could say or think mentally, as that's how good Rebec made him feel at that moment. The sight correlating to the feeling of what she was doing...the feel of her soft bosom putting pressure on him as he slid between her chest...the erotic nature of it excited him as much as the sensation did. He couldn't help himself as he laughed from just being that heightened in spirits. Soon, he had to grab onto her shoulder as he came closer and closer to falling over the proverbial edge while his hips thrust against her, his other hand resting over hers against her bouncing breasts.

 

Gods, how dare I ever doubt-

 

He couldn't finish the thought, as his mind went white with ecstasy and she finally took him all the way, making his cup runeth over, and his voice call out her name in deep uprooted satisfaction. Rebec still held him against her breast a while, stroking her palm across his hip and kissing at the slightly rounded rise of his stomach. That was her favorite pillow, so she laid her head on it and enjoyed their afterglow.

 

When she started getting notions about going at it some more, however, she forced herself to sit up. Crawling up to the head of the bed, Rebec kissed him and brushed a hand through his hair, letting him get a good look at her chest still glistening with his fluid. "No more of that until tonight," she warned, smiling.

 

He felt like he was going to melt and fall through the floor at the moment, and only managed a weak nod with half opened eyes. Though the sight of her chest made him stir to soberness again from hungering for more, which meant only now did what she say really register. He thought that doing anything before they left would have been detrimental, but really it only made him crave more. Wasn't that always the nature of it? For young ones it was. He was lucky their warrior lifestyle took off some extra years for the both of them, though it was obviously more than that. That was apparent when he held her eyes with his.

 

How dare I ever doubt her, he thought. The thought finally finishing itself after being interrupted from earlier. And while he always knew she'd never cheat on him, the thought still crossed his mind. That was doubt, even if he wanted to deny it. Doubt born from irrational fear. And what did it say about him that he realizes this only after sex?

 

I'm just a man. No one's perfect I guess. With that thought, he smiled up at her both from gratitude and lingering lust, then he stood to fetch the wash bucket for them both, helping her clean herself first.

 

"You're not talking," Rebec said, faintly amused though it did make her nervous. She was usually the quiet one. "The Under King got you tuckered out?"

 

That got him to open his mouth, making him chuckle before he said, "Well, the real Under King was apparently blasted away when he visited the Greybeards. If you believe the tale. So I guess it's fitting you laid me out when climbing your High Hrothgars." Baldur moved behind her and put his arms around her waist while resting his head on her shoulder.

 

"But no, I'm not tuckered out. Though you did a hell of a job trying, that's for sure. I was just... self reflecting. You're too good to me to get what you got last night. I was just thinking it's a shame I realize that only now after this. Just like a man, right?"

 

Rebec was still laughing about his nickname for her girls. Hugging his arm, she said, "I should've pushed Bel off, you're right. It was habit, I guess. Not that I let any man hang on me like that, but I've known him a long time. Still, you don't even know, Baldur. You're my man, so much it hurts. Sex doesn't even seem like the same thing any more. I do things I never did, for one. And it feels different. Better. A lot better. For one thing, I know you aren't here just for the night, or just doing your duty by me."

 

Patting the side of his head, she pulled at him. "Come on. Daylight's burning and we got some rowing to do."

 

Baldur thought about responding, but by now she knew what he'd say. Her words were a great comfort though. She didn't say much, but always knew what to say when she did, though it was amusing to him that he could be so cheered up by an ego stroke. Silly man, as usual. Kissing her on the cheek, he said, "You're right. We'll continue talking later. Plenty to talk about too and we'll have all the time in the world to do so. You already got everything? Ma's apparently got some gifts for us before we leave."

 

"Gifts?" Rebec let him go and started throwing on clothes. "Ohh, I know. Honeymoon. Dibellan stuff. As if we need any help." Laughing, she hurried through dressing and slung on her axes. She had kept most of her things packed. "Alright, let's go to it." Baldur excitedly ran down the stairs laughing with Rebec right behind him. As expected, Ysana greeted the two at a table by the inn entrance and dropped a heavy sack full of junk in his other hand.

 

"Shor's snake, ma, what is all this? You know we're only going for a few days right?" He said, laughing.

 

"Oh I know. I was just in the market, and I saw all sorts of things I thought you could use, so... I just got it all. Redguards have good taste. Your brother-in-law and his wife gave me a lot of spending money, so..." While Ysana was talking, Baldur went rummaging through the pack, and pulled out a black piece of fabric with a pouch attached to it.

 

"What is this, a slingshot?" Baldur said, confused. Rebec grabbed it and held it up by the strings just as Vigge walked into the room. He looked from Rebec to Baldur to Ysana, his expression growing sterner by the minute.

 

Undeterred by her father's glare, Rebec said, "I think it's an Under King Sling. Right, ma?"

 

Baldur's eyes widened when he realized what she meant, and before Ysana could answer, he snatched the underwear and quickly threw them back in the pack while Vigge stared. Clearing his throat, he said under his breath so Vigge couldn't hear. "You told ma about that?" His confirmation was Ysana's giggling.

 

"You just did." Rebec elbowed Ysana and joined in the giggling. "I think we better save the rest of the goodie bag for the cabin. G'bye pa. Cheer up." She went over to Vigge and leaned up to kiss his cheek. Suddenly she wished she had already told him about the baby, but Baldur didn't even know yet, so that would have to wait.

 

Rebec took possession of the gift bag- lest Baldur toss it into the harbor on the way- and headed out with her husband's hand in her own.

 

Their little skiff had a sail, so once they were out of the quay, they were able to set the oars and hoist it. Rebec steered, keeping them close to the shoreline. As they rounded the island, she saw a ship off in the distance and had a nervous moment thinking about pirates or Thalmor. It would be a perfect time to grab them up, alone as they were. She banished that thought and kept an eye out for the right beach. It wasn't hard to spot, since its sand was a deep rose red streaked with purple and metallic green, unusual even for Hammerfell.

 

There was a little dock, and up a short path was the hut, shaded by date palms. It had a porch out front big enough for two, and an outdoor fire pit and clay oven which were already smoldering. The merchant's steward had stowed some meat in there the night before, for slow cooking. Inside, the hut was basically one large room, with a kitchen off to one side, a table and some easy chairs around a small hearth, and a canopied bed. The privy was in back.

 

Rebec drew back the bed canopy and peered in. Tone sly, she said, "Oh yes. This will do nicely."

 

Baldur was admiring the setup of the place, thinking that his wife had great taste to get this all arranged. In a perfect world, they could just drop their responsibilities and stay here forever, just the two of them alone with a small island all to themselves. Perhaps one day they could even do that, though not forever. Vacation time maybe, whenever they got the itch to go sailing here again.

 

The place was so exotic and different from anywhere in Skyrim, and the cool ocean breeze on his skin in his loose blue noble Nordic attire from Solitude felt invigorating. He couldn't have picked a better time not to bring armor. Ulfric probably would throw him across the room, literally in fact, if he knew the two had left themselves so vulnerable in a spot like this. But you know what? **** Ulfric.

 

The trip was supposed to be primarily about this, after all. Till Ulfric got wind of it that is, though Baldur had expected it. Baldur looked and saw that Rebec was peering into the canopy bed, and apparently was enjoying the view inside. Baldur was enjoying another view altogether, however. Menel, when you're right, you're right. Slinking over to her from behind, the big Nord lifted his enormous hands and brought it down on Rebec's voluptuous booty with a loud 'smack!', then pushed her inside as he jumped in.

 

Looking around, he said, "Oh, this will do nicely tonight..."

 

Laughing, Rebec rolled over and punched him. "I told you, you're shut off til tonight." She did take the opportunity to kiss him, still laughing at first, and then more languidly. Finally she pushed at Baldur's chest and got up. "I'm going to change and then lay out on the beach. First things first. Where's your book?"

 

"It's in my pack," he said as he stood up. "Come on, I'll bring the stuff." After she went off to find a spot, Baldur took a large red blanket along with a bottle of red wine for them both and finally his book. He laid out the blanket for her first, then sat the bottle in the sand before removing his shirt and boots to really enjoy the breeze and sun. He placed a pillow from inside the cabin on the blanket and handed her the book before laying down with the opened bottle of wine next to him.

 

Rebec had changed into a loose skirt and sleeveless top from her store of Ra Gada clothing. She kept her axe belt next to her on the sand, just in case, but the only thing that threatened them that afternoon was a blue crab that waved its claws and then scurried off, more shy than its mudcrab cousins.

 

Shading her eyes, Rebec propped herself on Baldur's chest and flipped until she found her place in the book. The chapter title caught her eye immediately, and she smirked, poking at his chest. "Wulf Maiden-Hunter?"

 

"Oh, that..." said Baldur rolling his eyes at what he thought was clever at the time. "Don't ask. I was young, heh. You're not that far along in it yet though, are you? Last place was before the attack on the bandit fort I thought."

 

She flipped back to check. "No, I read that part. Maori chomping on the Thalmor, that's not something you can forget. D'you suppose Menel eats his enemies? When he's not collapsed from fright or exhaustion after a fight, I mean?"

 

"Nah, that's a Valenwood born thing, and most Bosmer aren't open about it with outsiders. Maori's a weird one. Menel's got a strong stomach, but so far I think the only meat he plans on eating is cooked non sapient meat. Well...usually."

 

"Oh, I bet he'd eat raw milk drinker, if it came to it." Glancing at the previous chapter, Rebec noticed the epilogue and said, "Oh, I did miss something." Her expression turned sober as she read of Baldur's meeting with Ulrin, his fateful promise, and its fulfillment during the civil war. A lump formed in her throat. After finishing, she was quiet a few moments, then sat up and held Baldur's eyes. "Do you think he was right? He lives on in you?"

 

He didn't say anything for a while, wondering at the question himself. He hadn't thought in detail about that note in a long time, not even when he wrote about it.

 

"Hm, somewhat. He always wanted me to be a soldier, and as you saw, I still have his jealousy and anger. However, I was a soldier for the Stormcloaks, and now I even lead them. Not only that, but I have you. I told you how he tried convincing me there'd never be a woman worthy of trust. And you've proven him wrong. Not only that, but I've always wanted to be a real bard. I did that for a while, gave it up, then here you come and inspire me to start it up again and even write a book of poetry. Maybe I haven't fully shaken that fear of trust; it was instilled inside me since I was very young. But this was a huge leap for me, though you made it easy to take. I'm glad I did. All kids carry some of their parents. But there's no way in hell Ulrin can claim to be me now. I'm much better than he ever was, and you helped me see that."

 

She smiled at his mention of trusting her, then sobered again and said, "I suppose Ulrin would try to take credit for you being better than him, too, by saying he made you what you are by testing you. Same thing people say about Nirn, that it's the Arena. I guess it doesn't matter. What you had starting out came from him, maybe, but you make what you are now. And you being a bard, you've got more imagination on that score than most. I think that's what makes you such a good general. You don't just see what is, you see the possibilities. The old Nords were on to something. There's more to a battle bard than just entertaining the men in camp."

 

Baldur took a swig of wine when he blushed from what she said, then squeezed her with his arm around her to show gratitude for her words. "You're right, he would say that. I had a talk with Vigge and told him about the time I caught him drunk enough to where he admitted he thought what he was doing was for the best. Who knows, maybe he wrote that note so I would resent him and strive not to be him. I think that's a crock though, and unlikely. If he did, then he's still a bastard. I won't do that with our kid. Or kids. Whichever."

 

Rebec made a thoughtful noise. That was her prompt, but when it came to saying the words, she just couldn't. It made her fearful somehow, this bit of news with all its temptation to hope. Later. Settling back down to read, she flipped over to the tale of Wulf Maiden-Hunter. "Hmph. Redguard, long legs," she muttered, then smiled in satisfaction as she read about Baldur kicking the woman out, even if it was because of guilt over that other woman. "This Toralf is quite a character. Let me guess. This is about that Falmer cave you mentioned."

 

"Aye it is. And your legs are longer, hon," he said, smiling and ruffling her hair.

 

She gave a little chuckle. It was the right thing to say, true or not. Rebec read on, laughing again over his "lady killer" song, then on to their mercenary adventure. "This guy is dead," she predicted, pointing at Alfjorn's name. "Too stupid to live."  She continued, and jumped in tension at the appearance of the insect monster. Turning quickly to the next page, Rebec groaned to find it empty. "Haven't you finished it yet?"

 

"Nope, sorry, heh. Though if it makes you feel better, it isn't a terribly long story. Though I did end up being in that place for almost two weeks I think. Alfjorn actually doesn't get killed by those things. He's not stupid, he's just one who does by instinct. Not unlike Brund. Couldn't lead a merc band if he was stupid. Why don't you tell me about one of your stories. Surely there's something you've done you haven't told me about yet with all your years at sea. Ever see a sea monster?"

 

"I've seen all kinds of monsters. The Sea of Ghosts didn't get its name for nothing. My first ship was called The Morndas when my parents had it built for me. Because I was born on a Morndas, I guess. It got the name Howling Harpy after I took some prospectors up north looking for mines in the frozen lands. We had docked off a barren rock and some of the crew and miners went ashore to take ore samples. They went into a cave, and some time later we heard the most ungodly screeching. Those men were put to such a fright that some of them ran straight into the sea and froze before I could pick them up. We hightailed it, but there was this thing, a grey shape. It would sometimes look like a woman, but not like a wispmother, this was bigger. It was howling, like a storm wind, only more... keening, sort of. Like a woman wailing for her dead. It followed us the night through and only disappeared the next morning. The story spread far. Not many people dare to go that far north anymore. No reason to. I think she was the ghost of a giantess. There aren't any of those in Skyrim that anybody knows about, but there must have been once, in Atmora."

 

Her husband felt a shiver go down his spine at the thought of that. He never saw any sort of ghost before, let alone something like that. "You mean to tell me that giants can have ghosts? That's... And you found a female one! Poor guys, no wonder you hear stories about giants capturing women in Skyrim. They have to come from somewhere. Maybe Ness came from an already mixed giant and a human woman. That could be why he's so small. Well. Relatively."

 

"That's what papa's story claimed, didn't it? The one about giants in the time of the witch king. This ghost, maybe she was guarding something. A giant's hoard or some such. Think of all the treasure that must be buried under the ice of Atmora. Anyway, people talked about that so much that I changed the ship's name. Kind of a boast, I guess. I got to thinking I was invincible after that, and well... Howling Harpy I met a bad end. Then Harpy II did, as well. Maybe that was the giantess' last revenge. It's probably better we changed the name on the new one."

 

Baldur knew how she felt about what she saw as past failures and the sore topic her ships sinking was, so he thought he'd try lightening the mood and cheer her up. "Here, stand up. I've got an idea."

 

"What now?" she said, laughing, though she did as he asked.

 

Smiling as he put a hand out for her to take, he said, "We've never really danced together, have we? There was the time a long while ago in Markarth, but not really."

 

Her face lit up. Normally she would have to be drunk for this sort of thing, but alone with Baldur was a different matter. "You'll have to sing something."

 

"Of course, let me think...." Baldur took her hand and brought her closer to him so that her body pressed on his, holding her right hand with his left while his other went around her waist. He had his eyes closed as they rocked side to side for a bit while he thought, then eventually he started humming. Trying to work out a rhythm and a tune to start forming words with. Finally, he smiled and opened his eyes. Which signified he had a basic idea for a song. He hummed the tune for a little while longer while he worked out some steps to it so they'd both get the hang of it, occasionally twirling them both around before snapping back together. It started out at a somewhat quick pace, before slowing down at the second part of the song.

 

"You'll have to excuse the sappiness of it, dear. I just made it up.

 

Hmm hmm hm h-hm. Hmm hmm hm h-hm. Hm hm...hm hm....hm hmm. Hmm hmm hm h-hm. Hmm hmm hm h-hm. Hmm...h-hm, h-hmm huh hum!

 

(I see a vixen before me. I wonder what will be her story?

Why is this perplexing and heart stopping vexing woman standing right here before me?

I'll be forty. And I'm shortly... going to spend my life with she!

And I always wonder, as this vixen slumbers how on Nirn I got so lucky!) x2

 

As we whirl in the wind wondering what's within that would make us want to wake each day!

With her next to me and as we stand by the sea I scream out so the gods hear me say...

Thank you oh gods, and I pray.....

 

That I'll always see her before me. And that I'll be in her story.

And that this perplexing and heart stopping vexing woman will stay right here before me...

I'll be forty. And I'll shortly... be living my life with she...

And I always will wonder as this vixen slumbers, how on Nirn I got so lucky.

 

And if Sai comes along, after hearing this song, to take some of that luck away...

Then I'll grab my axe and I'll bring her back, and I swear that Sai will rue the day..."

 

Rebec was laughing, as much from her turning her as from the words, and from a different kind of intoxication. It was better than mead, and that was saying something. Resting on his arm as they swayed, she asked, "You really watch me sleep, or is that just for the song?"

 

He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on her head. Smiling, he said, "All the time. I sometimes wait for you to sleep first, or I'll wake up in the middle of the night, and I'll watch you, thinking about whatever. Us. Occasionally you'll drool, and I'll wipe it off. Heh, creepy, huh?"

 

"It doesn't sound like much of a substitute for sleep." Against his neck, she was smiling, however. "I never thought a man would look at me that way. Not some burly soldier man, for sure. You sure are something."

 

There didn't seem to be more to say than that, so she shut up and listened to the waves, felt Baldur's heart beating in his chest, and impressed on her memory how it felt to have his strong arms and hands holding her firmly against him. It was a simple thing, and everything.

 

By the time the sun was low in the sky, and Rebec's stomach gave an audible growl. Laughing, she released Baldur but kept hold of his hand. "Let's go see what's cooking in that firepit. We can grill some plantains, too. Stros M'kai fire bananas, that's good eating."

 

A haunch of pork and coneys were in the firepit, wrapped together in banana leaves. Rebec took the meat out, then kicked up the smoldering coals and put the grill on. Quickly she sliced up plantains, washed little gemstone peppers, salted everything and threw them on the grill while Baldur got the table ready. There was date wine and spiced brandy, and Rebec had requested the merchant bring fresh juices also, for her.

 

Baldur was excited to try exotic foods, especially since they were cooked by Rebec, which was a rarity. He was popping in a little bit of everything by the time it was done, especially the things that Baldur thought was bananas, which he only heard about in Skyrim, since they did not have any. But they were more starchy in taste, rather than being sweet, and of course these were cooked. Normally someone would eat with more care and perhaps nuance, but this was Baldur. Not that his wife wasn't used to his table manners. These were Nords, after all.

 

Baldur took a short pause in his inhaling of the pork on his plate to regard Rebec and her juice. "I know why you've stopped drinking...." After a pause, he said again, "You're worried about hurting the baby, right? So you're getting used to going without before you finally start swelling up, heh." After saying that, he pushed his own cup of wine away and poured some of the juice she had for himself, remembering his promise that he'd swear alcohol off as well when she did.

 

Rebec had been shoving bits of pork in her face and stopped abruptly, regarding Baldur with surprise. Did he know? She guessed not. He thought this was something still off in the future. Rebec knew why she was afraid. To put words to the thing, that would make it reality, and then they would have to deal with disappointment if that came around.

 

Sooner or later she was going to have to tell him. Breaking off another piece of meat, she avoided his eyes. "Yes, it's for the baby. You know why I want to be careful."

 

"Yea, I know. Sorry to bring it up, I just want you to remember we're in it together. So if you want to start giving up on mead now, then...so will I. I'll be honest, it's really not as hard as I said it would be before. But you know, Nord. Can't let Imps catch wind of that."

 

She laughed, replying, "You don't have to do that. Just... keep the Baldurbrau out of sight for a while. Damn, I could use a Baldurbrau. By the way, this isn't theoretical." Sometimes, it was better just to blurt.

 

"What do you mean?" said Baldur, not knowing what she meant specifically.

 

"A baby." Rebec allowed herself a little smile and stole a glance at him. "We're not alone on this honeymoon. Got a freeloader with us."

 

Baldur had since been chewing on a piece of pork, but stopped mid-chew at the news. His eyes widened in realization, and before he could stop it, a tear rolled down his cheek. Clearing his throat while trying to hide his face while he wiped it away with a shaky hand, he said, "Sorry, this pork is spicy." After recuperating, he smiled shyly, then said, "So for real? It's real? How do you know? Your..."

 

Baldur stole a glance at her stomach under the table. He didn't know much of anything on how pregnancy worked, and didn't know how it would start, but was sure that he'd notice first before Rebec told him. Rebec noticed the tear but just smiled nervously.

 

"The healers at the monastery told me. I hadn't really noticed. I mean, I'm not regular anyway, and it must be early. To happen so fast... though we've been going at it quite a bit." Laughing, she straightened so Baldur could see her tummy, which was no more rounded than usual. She patted it then, looking down thoughtfully. It pained her to think about something so little and helpless dependent on her.

 

Seeing Rebec tap her belly somehow made it more real to him. Smiling more deeply, Baldur started to laugh from the shock of it. He thought he'd be ready to hear she was pregnant, but somehow actually hearing it was going to happen was completely overwhelming. But in a good way, even though he did have his fears of being a father. That didn't compare to how he felt knowing something made of both their blood was growing inside his wife's stomach. Like some sort of stamp of approval from the gods.

 

Baldur stood up then and walked over to her side of the table and wrapped his arms around her. She could feel the moistness on his cheek as his rested against hers. Rebec stood into his arms and kissed the wet cheek, then kissed him again as her own eyes watered. All her words were caught, too. Despite her fears, the thought of making Baldur so happy, of having his little one, and maybe putting the past behind her, all of that made her heart swell.

 

Pulling back finally, she laughed and wiped his cheek and then her own. "You sure you're ready to be some little Nord's papa?"

 

"Hahaha, oh Kyne's ass, you're gonna have to give me some time to be used to that idea. I can't believe it!" Sobering a bit at a thought that occurred to him, he said, "Uh, what about you? You ready to hear someone call you mama finally?" He remembered Jala never got that chance.

 

"I'm trying not to think about Jala. It isn't fair, not to her and not to this little one. Gods, I can't believe it yet, either. Even after they told me, I thought they must be wrong, but the little signs do add up. I didn't want to tell you until we were out of that mess. Your ma already guessed, though. Obviously it's like a hairless Khajiit to see a day go by with me not drinking."

 

"Or a Nord with a Tail?" he asked jokingly, referring to a song he sung a long while ago about a khajiiti Nord. He was glad she was trying so hard not to think about the past. Thinking about it himself made him feel guilty about being so happy, but not after her words. It wasn't something he'd have ever asked of her himself. "Looks like we'll have something to celebrate, then," he said as he put his hands on her shoulder. "Maybe now Vigge will stop eying me as much."

 

"He'll melt like butter in the Alik'r. But don't expect to see it much outwardly. You know how he is. Worse than me." She pushed on him to sit down again and then followed to sit on his lap so they could finish their dinner. "We'll have to head home now. Got to get Kyne's Watch set up a bit before I get so big I can't waddle up a gangplank."

 

"We'll probably need to take one last trip to Dragonstar, but if you start swelling up by the time we're done in Stros M'kai, then we'll send a second diplomatic team through Markarth to take care of the rest. Shouldn't be difficult." Baldur was good on food at the moment, so he only nibbled occasionally while holding her. He was so smitten by the idea that they were now three, that he was already starting to help nourish the both of them. Smiling, he said, "Here, take from my plate too. Gotta get you nice and plump."

 

"I'll have no trouble doing that on my own. 'Course, I don't have mead to fill me up..." With that she started cleaning Baldur's plate.

 

When she couldn't hold any more, Rebec started clearing the food away and said, "Alright. The pregnant admiral wants to see you that slingshot put to its proper use. Hop to."

 

"Heh, it's already on. I slipped it under while you were preparing the food and I pretended to go take a piss. Though if you want to see... you're gonna have to work for it."

 

Rebec's eyes lit up at the challenge and she tugged at his trousers. "You been sitting with that in your crack this whole time? Come on. Let's see it."

 

(To be continued) :wink:

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(continued)

 

"Ah ah, you can't just yank at me like some scullery maid and have your way with me! You gotta get me in the mood." Baldur batted his eyelashes like a woman to complete the gender switch in approach. "I remember those moves of yours if Falkreath... our wedding night. I'd love to see that again."

 

"The Ra Gada outfit? I guess, when in Hammerfell... Alright, you go get in the love nest, and no peeking." She figured Ysana had to have put some goodies in the bag for her, too.

 

"Hazzah!" he said triumphantly. Kissing her on the cheek first, he said, "For a lapdance, that'll be easy, haha. Don't take too long, or I'll have to start without you." Baldur didn't waste any more time chit chatting and quickly dashed off to the canopy bed and hopped in, awaiting his surprise.

 

"Lapdance?" She hadn't heard it called that before, and wasn't really sure what that involved, though the word was descriptive enough. Mumbling, Rebec looked longingly at the bottle of spiced brandy, but went to Ysana's bag of tricks instead.

 

Minutes passed, with more mumbling, and some shuffling of clothes. "No peeking!" Rebec reminded him sternly. At last she threw back the canopy flap, and leaned in to pull Baldur forward to the edge of the little platform bed. She was covered up in a dressing gown, though it was apparent when it fell open at the top that there wasn't much else underneath.

 

"Ra Gada dancers need accompaniment," she said slyly. "Here." Into his hands she thrust a little skin drum, and demonstrated holding it under his arm and alternating rolling softer beats with hard taps. "Now give me some rhythm. Fast or slow, you get to decide."

 

His first instinct was to reach out at her when he saw what she was wearing, though the drum going in his hands reminded him what was going to happen first. "Oh, I got this," he said, wriggling his fingers before starting a slow rhythm while bobbing his head to it. He remembered the beats the Ra Gada used in Falkreath. To anyone else this might have seemed patronizing, but he knew Rebec knew better than to think that of him, so he could enjoy this.

 

Rebec laughed, a bit nervously, though the drum made her relax even without alcohol. It was ridiculous, two Nords playing at Ra Gada music and dance, but with the waves from the evening tide crashing onto the beach, and the breeze wafting in scented with the spice of the cardamom trees nearby, it was easy to get into the spirit of the moment.

 

Turning her back to him, Rebec was still for a moment, then almost imperceptibly her hips began to lift and roll. Then her arms. After a moment these seemed to shrug and the dressing gown fell away. Underneath she wore a pair of bright yellow silk pants slung low on her hips, and a top that left her midriff bare. On her hips also hung a gold chain fringed with tiny seashells, one strand hanging straight down her bottom that gave accent to every movement. Her "T" tattoo was visible above this, just on the rise of her lower back.

 

For a while she danced with her back turned, casting a coy glance back at him once in a while. Rebec knew he liked this view, even if it made her self conscious. Finally she turned and moved in the lamplight closer to him, though still not close enough to touch. The small top was held with a gold clasp, and her Kyne amulet hung between her breasts, one concession to Nordliness. Remembering what she'd learned from Ra Gada women, she kept her center still while everything else move around it, slow, luring his eyes to every ripple of her skin.

 

Baldur's eyes were constantly moving as well, hungrily trying to see every ripple, every movement. The sight of the T on her rolling hips made him long to see it closer and under him. He knew what he asked, but didn't know quite what he was in store for when he got it. He saw Rebec's moves, but this was much different, more enthusiasm. He could sense her slight nervousness, and he knew she'd never done this for anyone. This was a side of Rebec only he would ever see. And it was so damn intoxicating and sexy.

 

Just in time too, before the baby made this impossible. The baby....

 

Baldur's growing libidinous state only continued to do so as she came closer. A few times he messed up and skipped a beat for being so distracted, which was appropriate for what he thought his chest just did when his heart raced. The beat of the drum consequentially grew faster as his excitement increased, which was clear from what his trousers was showing. He inched forward on the edge of the bed to get closer, then with a sly smile laid down and parted his legs a bit to give her room while he kept the beat going.

 

Rebec smiled as the tempo picked up, and she obliged, rolling her hips and occasionally stopping to shimmy. She kept her eyes on him, too, drinking in the lust in his eyes and the swell in his trousers. Her hands were as active as the rest of her, drawing long seductive curls in the air. Once she stopped and gave him a mischievous smile as her hand cupped the air in similar motions as what he got that morning.

 

Slowly she danced into the space between his legs, then turned and made to sit on his lap, though her bottom only brushed the front of his pants.  When she turned again, she put a hand on his shoulder and with the other reached down to pull at his trouser laces, gaze fixed on his, daring him to stop her.

 

He was the one with the drum and keeping the pace, but at this point Baldur couldn't tell if her dancing was being lead on by his beat, or if his beat was following her hips. And when she started to press her bottom against him finally... that feeling of soft warm firmness rubbing against him with the sensation of the smooth fabric... so damn good. So good in fact, that in that instant he found himself even feeling bad for Aksim. And not just him, but pretty much anyone that wasn't him right now with her, all alone with this on an island to himself. Off the market for good and with eyes only for him.

 

Not that he felt bad enough to do anything for them or Aksim. Heh, no they would just have to suffer. He wanted to put his hands on that glorious rump of hers so badly, but somehow the drums added so much to this that he was compelled to play them out until he could no longer hold a beat and had to seize her. Almost like a challenge of how long could he go. When she started undoing the string on his trousers, all he could do was stay trapped by Rebec's gaze with alert and heavily lust laced eyes as he wondered what she was up to.

 

Ever one for the dramatics, Baldur tortured himself longer holding the beat, but it slowed down again, turning into a suspense building rhythm to match the atmosphere that Rebec was creating. Rebec tugged at the trouser fabric until she could see the "sling" underneath. Laughing a little, she then took the drum out of Baldur's hands and tossed it on the easy chair behind them. They were going to make their own rhythms now, with breath and flesh. 

 

Resting her hands on his shoulders, she kept the slow swaying of her body going, now against him so that he could feel the movement as well as see it. Her hip jostled his hardness, and then once again she turned and caressed him with her backside, a little more insistently this time.

 

Still with her back to him, she took Baldur's hand and brought it around to her front, letting him help her undo the clasp at her top. Her breasts were free then, though he couldn't yet see them, only steal a squeeze before she danced away and turned. Slowly, bare on top, she repeated her dance movements, the sway of her breasts and the little shells on her gold belt keeping tempo with her hips.

 

Then with a push her loose pants fell away, too, leaving only the belt. She returned to Baldur and helped him lift his tunic over his head. Her breasts at just the right level for him to taste them, she began to massage his shoulders while he did so. Impatient and aroused, at last she pushed him back onto the bed and jerked the trousers down around his ankles. Keeping him pinned, she climbed astride and ground herself against the little piece of fabric that remained between them, then slowly climbed up to straddle his shoulders. In her ship's cabin, Rebec had been embarrassed at this stance, but now she was confident and excited enough to revel in it. Her look commanded him to set to his work.

 

Baldur stopped himself from greedily tasting her, and first inched closer, letting her feel his hot breath on her first. Smiling up at her from where he was, he took his fingers from behind her and around her leg to her sweet spot to make her squirm over him before finally placing his hands on her backside and shoving her forward onto his mouth. His hands helped her movement now, and he could feel the power of her legs, of her entire body as she moved her hips in the same way as before.

 

He pulled his tongue out from her, then moved up to suck and rub roughly at her sensitive clit in a shock of pleasure before mercifully moving back down to her center and slipping his tongue inside again. His arousal was so strong that his hips moved too as if she was riding his groin and not his tongue. His hands were constantly moving, helping her along, and one of them played with the golden belt with seashells, pulling the little string that hanged on her back down with his finger as it slid down the middle of her backside.

 

Groaning while smiling up at her so she could feel his vocal cords reverberate through her, he urged her to grind and ride harder by moving his head back and forth at her like his hips soon would, using his beard to tickle her inner legs, and his mustache to rub at her clitoris. Seeing her exposed breasts and hardened nipples only made him push at her harder as his long arms helped him reach up from behind her to grab at them.

 

Senseless with arousal, she fell forward to one hand and simply rode his tongue's motions until the black behind her eyes turned to exploding light. Crying out from it, she greedily let him draw out the last, long series of shudders. Rebec's limbs felt weak as a doll's, but her thighs were still on fire. She climbed forward and turned, remaining on her hands and knees, an invitation.

 

Baldur quickly moved up and followed her from behind. Her wetness was all along his beard, but he let it stay there instead of wiping his mouth, too drawn to the welcoming sight before him that's been teasing him this entire time. He approached her slowly at first before suddenly seizing her and aggressively pulling her towards him so that his filled sling rested against her cheek, just under the 'T'. He ran his hands over her slowly, over the roundness of her buttocks before kissing the tattoo and then the cheek below it.

 

He took one of her hands and placed it on his sling and pulled it aside, instead of all the way off. It was too much work to pull it all the way off his legs and out his backside anyway when he had what he wanted right there. When he was free, he placed himself back on the same spot, rubbing at her cheek with all of his groin before sliding down to her hot center again. He teased her a little longer, rubbing at the surface before suddenly plopping it in past her resistances.

 

He moved slowly at first, giving her a chance to recover from her earlier shudders. But it wasn't long before his hands sunk into her hips above her belt and at the tattoo matching his brand, using it for grip as he thrust into her harder, but not fast. Not yet. Her murmurs rewarded his teasing, and then a soft groan as he entered her. Clutching the rich fabric of the bed, Rebec moved her hips slowly in counterpoint, driving him deeper, the soft clank of her belt and the wet sounds of skin against skin the music to which they danced now. In this stance she was helpless, dependent on Baldur both for pleasure and for caresses.

 

This passivity and the unique sensations from him butting against the front wall of her belly were maddening, so erotic that she could taste it, more exquisite than any liquor.

 

When he started to lose himself to the pleasure he was feeling, he moved his hands from her waist to rub at her back before finally gripping her shoulders to brace as he picked up the tempo. He was too caught up with being interwoven with the love of his life to think of really anything but the incredible level of lust that love brought. His grip hardened as his tempo grew and the little love nest was filled with the sounds of her cheeks slapping against him and the little golden chain dancing around, occasionally brushing against him as it shook and rattled.

 

He realized only later that his hands were gripping too hard at her shoulder, so he moved them to her bosom as he bent towards her to kiss and gently suck her shoulder in apology and loving tenderness, which was a sharp contrast to the hard thrusts she was receiving from him. With the way they were going, the whole canopy was shaking violently and banging loudly against the cabin wall, and since all they could see was inside it, it was as though the entire world were shaking. He was almost making as much noise as she was, but he managed to say her name, letting her know he was near.

 

Rebec turned her head so her cheek nestled against his, breath against breath. She flustered encouragement for him to take his release. She herself was so aroused that she didn't know if she had come once or twice or was about to again. Knowing they had the whole night together and nothing to do for a night and day but more of the same, it didn't matter. In the last moments she lay down under him, craving the safe feeling of being pinned under his weight.

 

As she did, Baldur quickly flipped her over to look into her eyes as he worked to be done. He put his arms under her head and looked at her almost curiously and in the same way he did when he watched her sleep. His body seemed to be fighting his desire to finish, almost in protest to prolong it further, but he was too near, too ready to have the final push. When he did, it was so overwhelming, that the big Nord had to bury his cries in her shoulder as he came so hard that the initial release almost hurt, and he could feel it push from his groin as his two boys rested against the sheets and Rebec's bottom.

 

He was breathing hard as his eyes were shut closed fiercely and he mumbled something in old Nordic that meant 'By the gods', or more accurately, by the et'ada.

 

In the confusion of their overwhelming feelings, vulnerable as they were to each other, Rebec wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him tightly. Even pinned as she was, it felt like they floated together, an illusion heightened by the sound of the waves outside the little hut. Caressing his back with her hands, she whispered his name and kissed at his cheek and ear. When he rolled to his side, she went with him, nestled close. Pausing briefly to remove the chain around her waist, Rebec tossed it away, then returned to his side, tucking her head under his chin.

 

He watched as her pretty head rose and fell along with his chest from his breathing. His blood was still going at a thousand miles an hour, trying to calm down and rest as he did. Feeling his blood rush like that when he was stilled was always exhilarating. He could feel the heat in his blood rush through his limbs more acutely, especially in his ears and arms. He ran his hands along Rebec's back then, still not tired of the feeling of her skin, or the burning from their heat combined together. Such exertion and heat in combination was purifying, almost like the sauna, except they needed no hot coals to accomplish what they did. "You were unbelievable. Like you were possessed by Dibella."

 

She laughed happily. Voice languid but with a bit of pride, she said, "You can tell your ma her magic worked, then."

 

"Ha, no I don't think I will. That was all you. Not magic, and not Dibella. Just the mother of our child being amazing as always."

 

"Hold on to that thought when I'm too big to fit through the door and passing gas every time I get up from a chair."

 

Laughing at that thought, he said, "I will. And I'll say the exact same thing. It will take someone truly amazing to have that going on and still remain the most beautiful thing there is to my eyes." Rebec turned her head to look up at him, looping her fingers through his.

 

"Or, you could just be a bard full of horker shit," she said, grinning.

 

Matching her grin, he said, "Or I could be a bard who, as you said earlier, sees more than what is, but also what can be simultaneously. Perhaps where others see useless rocks, I see the building blocks to civilization. Where others may see a big heaving pregnant woman farting every time she exerts herself, I see the love of my life putting her body through hell to bring our child into the world through the power of creation. 'And that truly...is beauty'."

 

He looked into her eyes and let her see his smile fade to show he was serious. Then smiling again, he said, "Besides, when you start launching thu'ums from your backside, that means I can do it too with impunity, hehe."

 

"Like you don't already," Rebec said, laughing. She watched his face in the bits of firelight that came in through the canopy fringe. Each contour was familiar now, and she loved every one, even the scars. Shield brother, lover, father of her child. Children, maybe. Rebec warned herself not to get too far ahead. In any case, the present moment held more happiness than she had thought could possibly be hers. Putting her head back down on Baldur's chest, she murmured, "You better get some sleep. I'm not done with you tonight, Red Snow."

 

And she wasn't. Not by a long shot.

 

***

 

Three days later they found themselves in less blissful circumstances, seated before a redguard man of some sixty years. He wasn't tall but cut an imposing figure nonetheless, mostly because of the intensity of the gaze that regarded the Nords like errant schoolchildren. Idem Zubiri was born to a sailor family, though he had been a soldier and only came back to sailing after the war against the elves. He was promoted quickly through the ranks of the Hammerfell navy, taking over as admiral eight years prior. He was, evidently, not impressed at the young female Nord admiral who had requested this meeting. Following redguard hospitality customs, he had offered them stubgrass tea, but there were few pleasantries before he was ready to get down to business.

 

Glancing between Rebec and her husband, he asked stiffly, "What is it that you want from us, sirs? You have your own navy. We've heard all the glorious stories about your war with the imperial fleet." The admiral's tone betrayed no sarcasm, though it was certainly there. Baldur leaned back in his chair informally, feeling well relaxed from the previous day's activities. He felt like he just shed ten years from his body.

 

Regarding the old man, he said, "You say that as though you were jealous. Nothing was stopping your fleet from jumping in to take revenge, admiral Zubiri."

 

He lifted a brow. "It wasn't our fight. You still haven't answered my question."

 

"We want to make sure that in the next fight, no one goes it alone," Rebec replied, jumping in. "We'll tell you the same thing we told Jeleen and Kematu of the Alik'r. If the Thalmor attack Hammerfell, we'll send aid. If the imperials attack you, likewise, as long as they struck first. What we want is a promise of the same from you, and your cooperation in any Dominion assault on the old empire. We'll stand stronger together than apart."

 

"You've come around to that realization at last, have you. It's a bit late." The admiral leaned back on his desk, a slight smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

 

Baldur said, "It only is if you accept that, admiral. We're all still alive and free from Thalmor rule. Until that changes, it's never too late. I think we proved that personally when Nord, Redguard and Imperial united together against the Thalmor in the middle of our civil war."

 

"That was a freelance operation on the part of some our... firebrands, if you will, High General. A foolish venture, many would say."

 

"If we hadn't had their help, Skyrim might still be at war, and that means we wouldn't be in the position we are now to make this alliance," Rebec said. "Listen, we get it. After Cyrodiil signed away its soul, Hammerfell stood alone. You showed us all what could be done when someone stands up to the Thalmor. You got the bragging rights, as I know you Ra Gada crave. Do you want us to grovel about it?"

 

"That would be nice."

 

"Don't grow too complacent, Ra Gada, lest it be you that sits out of the war while everyone else fights this time around. Don't forget that the man who rules Skyrim now and the ones who originally followed him were the ones who too called for war again with the Dominion. And we represent those men and women." Baldur sat up in his seat now and gave the old man a stern look.

 

"You and I know how this is going to work. You sit there in your chair, milk the whole concept that we need you for a while and revel in it, then eventually after you're bored of that and you've frustrated us enough to the point to where it looks like we'll give up and leave, you stop us and accept the alliance. Why? Because without Stros M'kai, we don't have a large enough naval base away from Thalmor waters to invade Valenwood. And if Cyrodiil falls, the first place their navy will go to afterwards is Hammerfell. Stros M'kai specifically, just like in the first Great War."

 

"There is a place for everything, High General Red-Snow, including the formalities. This isn't just about gloating. You need to convince me that I should trust your promises. To me, you're just imperials of another sort, and I daresay we all know how empty their words can be. I've already proven that I have no interest in exploiting the chaos of war for Hammerfell's gain."

 

Warily Rebec asked, "What does that mean?"

 

Idem's eyes shifted to her, glittering sharply. "We had messengers from the imperial navy around the same time others were declaring the blockade in Solitude. They wanted us to come along for the ride. I declined their offer, despite the promises of spoils and future trade advantages for Hammerfell. You are welcome."

 

Baldur shook his head and said, "So I'm supposed to be surprised you weren't stupid enough to work with the very people that abandoned your province. I see. I'm more interested in the fact that you didn't warn us first, though I suppose it wouldn't have done any good. In any case, you want me to prove that our word isn't empty? When's the last time you heard of an Imperial going through your blasted deserts and helping your people deal with a problem separating them when you are supposed to be united? You may not see the actions of Jodun Hunding as important, but we do, and we return favors of those who help us in our time of need. You're welcome."

 

Well, Gracchus did come to do just that, but he doesn't need to know that, heh. Trying to prove a point here.

 

The redguard admiral regarded them levelly some moments. "I'm not surprised that one with a name so fated took up that quest. And died for it. As for not warning you, I didn't take their threats seriously. Not at first. Even if I had, I and many others here weren't convinced that your upstart rebellion would last the first Skyrim winter." Zubiri straightened again and walked around to the bookshelves lining his office walls, filled with nautical, military and scientific tomes. As he did so he went on, "It seems you stand now where we were twenty five years ago. A victory or two in hand, but our country in shambles, to say nothing of our army, and with almost no navy left at all. So call it nostalgia, but I am willing to help you. I'll need some concessions from you, however."

 

"Everybody does," Rebec replied curtly. "We're listening. That's why we're here."

 

"I hear you dropped a lot of coin on Breton shipyards when building up your fleet. I want that coin in Hammerfell instead."

 

"We had to try to keep the Bretons out of the fight. It's a good thing, too, since apparently the imperials were looking for more ships. I wonder now they didn't get at least some merchant auxilaries to join in."

 

"Not enough coin to go around, I wager," Zubiri guessed.

 

"Well, at any rate, the orders are a done deal and there won't be more any time soon. The royal treasury is dry."  Rebec hesitated, considering. "Some of the yards there gouged us good. All I can promise is that next time, we pass them by and bring the orders to you. Anyway if there's a fight with the Dominion, Hammerfell will have to be our resupply and repair base, especially if Cyrodiil is blockaded. Isn't that enough for you?"

 

"It appears it will have to be." The redguard took several books down from the shelves and walked slowly back to face the Red Snows. "I've heard of your family, Admiral. And I've asked around about you. You can sail, they say, but are new to military tactics. Take these. I want to know the people I work with are capable."

 

Rebec looked over the books he handed to her: Handbook of Naval Strategy, Maritime History of Yokuda and Old Hegathe, and Coastal Geography of Southern Tamriel. She glanced at Baldur. Being basically told that she was in short pants and not qualified to be an admiral galled her, but there was some truth to it, as well. "Thank you," she answered stiffly. "I thought we could plan some joint naval exercises for next summer, if we make it that far before the Dominion hit us. Maybe then I'll get to see if you're capable."

 

Zubiri shot her a sharp look, but said nothing of her jab. "That can be arranged. In the meantime you'll want naval intelligence as well, I imagine."

 

Baldur was surprised that Rebec hadn't thrown those books at the man, though his grandfather image made it seem sincere, whereas from anyone else, it would have sounded like an insult. But it didn't matter, Rebec had a war victory under her belt on two fronts, whereas this man had none. "Such as what? You have knowledge on the Thalmor fleet?" asked Baldur.

 

"We keep an extremely close eye on anything happening in the Abecean. The Topal Sea is a bit more difficult, but we have our sources. When you speak of a Dominion assault, are you referring to an invasion of the Isles, or do you plan to wait and see if they attack the mainland again?"

 

Baldur said, "There's no way we're invading the Isles. I'm not the Admiral here, but I know better than to try what Talos preferred to use Numidium to achieve, though unlike Altmeri critics, I don't think he needed to use it. No, our primary target is Valenwood. The capital is right on the coast as well, so putting strong pressure on it by sea is going to be necessary to take some of the heat off of my land force. Though Rebec was telling me she thinks we can and should do some lightning strikes on the Isles while they're distracted."

 

"I see. And after you retake Valenwood, what then? You expect them to care about the Bosmer? The Thalmor threat will never truly be contained until they are destroyed at their root."

 

"One step at a time, my friend. Valenwood is their biggest foothold on the mainland, and is the only thing keeping them a player here at all. Elsweyr is secondary. I suspect they'll simply leave the Dominion after Valenwood is gone. They'll know they're next and I doubt would be so bold as to hold with them once defeated. After that, it doesn't matter if they exist or not. Valenwood is key. They only attacked Hammerfell because they were able to distract the Legion from their southern borders, knowing that Cyrodiil would be their biggest priority. I have a plan, but I need the support of Hammerfell to make me lead General of the alliance to pull it off. Under me, there won't be any provinces taking priority over others."

 

Zubiri studied Baldur skeptically. "You sound very confident of all that. I myself am not so confident that we were simply a diversion. They mean to rule this continent, all of it." He walked to the window, looked down over the jumble of waterfront buildings and the forests beyond. "Do you know why I am based in Stros M'kai and not Sentinel? It's not just to be closer to our greatest threat, though there is that.This place was the last place that held out against imperial rule. It was the first place the Dominion hit when they came to impose their own. Here was where they were finally humiliated and sent packing. If Stros M'kai is free, Hammerfell is free." Turning back to Rebec and Baldur, he said, "I aim to see that it remains so. I'll take whatever help you offer towards that goal. Even if it means fewer bragging rights for the Ra Gada." He glanced at Rebec and smiled.

 

"You misunderstood, I meant that they only attacked Hammerfell because they were able to distract the Legion from Valenwood and Elsweyr. Their southern borders. Everyone knows Hammerfell was their main target. I doubt they realized Cyrodiil was as weak as it was, which is why the priority seemed to switch. Which the Ra Gada should be thankful of, since the Legion, that being Nords, Bretons, and Imperials, took most of the damage, which allowed you to have your... 'bragging rights'."

 

Baldur said that last part while regarding Rebec with a smirk. Baldur wasn't one for letting the Ra Gada have an ego stroke, not when it came to things like war. That, and it demonstrated that Baldur knew what he was talking about and wasn't just some young upstart.

 

"In any event, the Ra Gada already have such by being the first to stand with us in this alliance since the civil war. Without you and Stros M'kai, the alliance doesn't really work, so there's that. We could just attack by land, but that would be much more brutal, much less effective, and much less likely to succeed. So if Stros M'kai's admiral is on board, then things just got a hell of a lot less bleaker."

 

"Let me make a few things clear. I want no operations in my waters without my knowledge or consent. Though if you really want to throw yourself at Dominion ships, I won't object. The new imperial admiral was doing that down in the Topal, until he was drowned recently by some sort of sea monster. And I trust this will give your king incentive to keep favorable trade relations with our merchants. If not, you'll be hearing from me."

 

Zubiri approached them and held his hand out, shaking Rebec's and Baldur's in turn. "High General. Admiral Rebec. A pleasure. See my aide on your way out and let him know how we are to contact you. I'll also send over some current charts of the southern waters to your ship. The Black Wisp, wasn't it? Unusual choice, pirate colors."

 

"You can blame me for that one," Baldur said, chuckling. "Though it fits. The Royal guard that accompanies it, their name is a dark one as well, and it works great for staying hidden at night." Not that this was ever Baldur's intent. He just thought it would look impressive. "Best ship in our navy for the best sailor in our seas."

 

Zubiri crossed his arms, obviously not impressed by the boast. Rebec, embarrassed and taking the hint, stood with the books under her arms and turned to leave. "Fair seas, Admiral."

 

"And to you."

 

Outside in the foyer, they spoke with Zubiri's aide, then headed off to prepare the ship for their departure the next morning. On the wharf, they bumped into Bel Aksim heading the other way with some of his crew. He stopped when he saw them, lifting his hands defensively towards Baldur to show he wanted no trouble. Rebec looked at her husband, wanting to stop to talk to her old comrade, but unsure how that would go over.

 

Baldur's brow wrinkled only from natural reaction, but when he saw Rebec looking at him just to talk to someone, even if it was one of those friends, he immediately felt like an ass again. Looking to Bel, he said, "Uh, look. About the other day...you gotta understand that you just caught me off guard is all. I know Rebec better than to think what I said. And I know you didn't know she was married anew, so...sorryerwhatever." That last part took a while for him to get out, and was mumbled, barely understandable.

 

Bel crossed his arms and glanced from one to the other. To Rebec he said, "This one's not like the other one."

 

She nodded proudly. "No, he's not."

 

"Yeah. Well, you look happy, so I guess that's alright. Not sure what I think about all this admiral business, though."

 

"That's different, too, but maybe not as much as it looks. I'm still sailing and still busting skulls. Just under a flag."

 

"For you, that makes quite a difference." Bel gestured at the books under her arm. "Been up to see the old man, eh? He's got a stick jammed up his ass, but he's not bad under all that. Pays me a little coin now and again for information. You ever need someone to do some special jobs for you, Rebec, look me up."

 

"Maybe I'll just do that. We've got a lot of leeway on auxiliary contracts."

 

Bel nodded, then shuffled, uncertain what to say or how to act around her now. "Well I guess I'll be seeing you then, Rebec." He glanced at Baldur and gestured. "Keep an eye on her. She's moon sugar crazy, this one."

 

"Look who's talking," Rebec said, grinning. "Take it easy, Bel. Don't get yourself into too much trouble."

 

"Not unless it pays." The sailor returned her grin, and gave a mock salute as he walked past.

 

Rebec watched him go, then leaned up to kiss Baldur's cheek. "Thank you."

 

He smiled from it and put an arm around her shoulder. "You don't need to thank me for that. I'm your husband and friend, not your master."

 

"Can't say I'd be so charitable with that red-headed tart in Falkreath. Anyway, let's get a move on. All this has been fun, but I'm ready to go home. Papa bear." Her smile turned impish, but still proud.

 

Baldur laughed at that as they walked away to prepare to leave, then said in a low tone, "I hope that nickname sticks. Wouldn't mind you using that name while we're making more cubs."

 

Laughing, she replied, "We'll see."

 

***

Two days later, as the Black Wisp once again headed out into the Abecean and north towards High Rock and home, Rebec sat in her cabin poring over the new maps sent over to her by Admiral Zubiri. They were the best she'd ever seen, with notes on skirmishes and regular patrol routes of the Dominion navy besides. The old man did indeed have a stick up his hind quarters, but if he kept giving her such valuable information, some condescension was a small price to pay.

 

On one of the maps, Rebec noticed a small island in the archipelago off Stros M'kai named Bel Island. "Well I'll be damned," she said, laughing.

 

In her captain's log, she wrote up a report of their last days in Hammerfell- skipping over the juicy parts, which were for her and Baldur's memories alone- and adding a final note:

 

Gods willing, what we did here lays a foundation for something that will be to the good of all our children- Nord, Cyrodiil and Ra Gada alike.

 

Baldur stood outside by the rails, once again in his general's armor now that the trip was almost over. His mind wasn't filled with thoughts of war, but of his coming child. Things were different now that this was a reality. He watched as their ship sailed by the escort one with his men, and he smiled and saluted as the remaining men saluted him as well. They were his brothers once. He'd fight and die for any one of them before. But now...

 

Now he had much more reason to not let that happen. He noticed the change already before when his throat was almost slit. The desperate will and refusal to die for his wife's sake. But now that there was a child involved, he no longer saw his primary duty as fighting for his country, but rather to fight for his family. Some may see those two things as the same...but they were not, not for him. Other men can die for their family. But I'm going to live for mine. That is my only real duty now. And nothing else matters.

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Brund

The Reach, Stormcloak Encampment

Night

 

The Stormcloak's war with the Forsworn was still raging on, though they managed to keep it contained now that they took Hag's End and could better protect the borders of Haafingar and the Reach. The Bull-like General sat at his new weapon sharpener, made custom to be able to handle a big enough blade like the ancient Nordic pendulum he now carried with him. He named it Alfr Vega, which was as close a translation in old nordic as you could find for Elf Slayer. He had it shipped to Windhelm to be enchanted with absorb stamina so he could keep on swinging and swinging and swinging and...

 

The court mage was the one who gave it the name, Brund not being knowledgeable enough to know old Nordic. He stayed in that position for hours, though to him it could have been days. He'd been self reflecting for weeks now, ever since the change. The men didn't seem to mind this new quiet and reflective bull general. It was a wonderful change of pace from before, and they could only hope that whatever Hag's End did to him would last a great deal of time from now.

 

Embers rose up into the night sky from the campfire as soldiers lay around the fire, laughing and slapping backs, enjoying temporary respite. The men and women's voices filled the air with camaraderie and cheer, though all Brund could focus on was the sound of the grind, as it seemed to grow louder and louder. And then louder some more. It wasn't his imagination. The general was putting more and more pressure onto the blade and stone, but the stone couldn't handle such force from this kind of steel. Louder and louder it grew as the Bull put more and more pressure on as he thought more and more about the man that he so hated.

 

Eventually, the grindstone could no longer take it and the peddle beneath Brund's foot gave away, snapping off completely and unable to continue further the way Brund mistreated it.

 

"Sir?"

 

Brund looked up from his seat to see a young Legionnaire before him staring at him in confusion. Brund lifted his hand up to shield his eyes from the harsh and unforgiving Hammerfell sun. Looking down in his hands, he saw that he lost concentration of what he was doing from daydreaming, and he managed to ruin the axe he was sharpening for himself.

 

"Sir?"

 

"What!" Brund yelled, his voice no longer gruff and intimidating, but merely gravelly. Even somewhat pleasant to hear when he wasn't yelling. Not that this was surprising from men in their early twenties.

 

"The Captain is back, sir. He awaits your orders." The soldier regarded the incredibly young legate with extreme skepticism, as did many under the boy's command. He himself only saw nineteen winters, and yet their so called Legate was no more than four years above him. Completely ******* ridiculous. And all because he was the closest Praefect around when their last Legate was slain. And he was only Praefect because his uncle was a council member, and his father had friends in the Legion. This is why politics did not mix with the military.

 

The young so called Legate didn't say anything to him, only handed him his orders in a scroll and dismissed him with a hand wave to the main encampment where the Captain waited. The only reason anyone still had faith in the chain of command at all was because the Legate's captain was still around. The legion soldier handed him his orders now, which the man took in haste. He was a tall man, even for a Nord, standing at six feet, three inches tall, with golden cropped hair, a neat short trimmed beard, gaunt strong face and strong icy soul piercing blue eyes. He wore the standard legion captain armor, except the steel used for their heavy armor was replaced with a lighter leather equivalent, like what the "legate" wore as well, but without a red cape that Brund wore.

 

The man's eyes raced across the paper quickly, so quickly in fact, that the young soldier who gave him the orders wondered if he even read the orders at all. "Just as I expected. The Legate plans to handle this attack by the books. That isn't going to work. You, go back with your fellow soldiers and prepare for the attack. I need a word with Legate Brund." The legionnaire smiled, then saluted him before running off to do as he was ordered.

 

The Captain's face gave away nothing on his approach to Brund. Only his icy eyes showed any real emotion at all. Looking at everyone as if they were lesser than what anyone else knew. Like no one was ever good enough even to themselves. Brund continued his grinding, hating those eyes almost as much as the elven scourge bearing down on their position. Speaking without looking at him, Brund said, "What is it now, Captain."

 

"I think you know, sir."

 

"I do. You have another issue with my orders, yes?"

 

The Captain said, "Sir, I never take issue with orders. I'll do as you command if I must. But..."

 

"Always a but," said Brund.

 

Ignoring the interruption, the Captain said, "But...I must insist that you heed my warning. Your battle plan, it isn't efficient enough. The Thalmor, they caught wind of our moving into Cyrodiil and abandoning this province. We have them cut off by the general's main force, but if we take this risk by attacking them head on to run through, they could have someone escape in time to warn their army in Cyrodiil. We should work to defeat this force, and do so by not attacking head on like this. We have the manpower, but they have the firepower. We-"

 

"Our orders are clear, Captain. We are to make a hard retreat through these forces to meet up with the general, then prepare to continue our march east. The Imperial city is sacked. This is what the General has ordered me to do. That is final."
 

"The General ordered us to come to him as soon as we could, yes. But if you told him the situation here and why we were held up and took the extra losses, Decianus would understand completely. Better it be this and go into Cyrodiil with a little less men than before than to let them get the chance to prepare for the at-"

 

"Enough!" Brund finally stood from the little grindstone with a new axe freshly sharpened, and positioned against the Captain's throat. The young Legate was rather large, standing a foot taller than even the Captain, yet the Captain's composure, age gap and overall air about him always made him the dominant figure between the two. Even as an axe edge lay plain at his throat flesh. "I am tired of people telling me how to do my job...I will NOT be disrespected like this! Our only priority is to make sure we get with that main force for the retaking of the Imperial City. We cannot risk an all out battle with the force blocking us, or the main force could perish. They need every man on that attack for it to succeed. Now I don't want another word from you, Captain, or I'll have you arrested! Out of my sight!"

 

The Captain's eyes again did all the talking for him, even as he stayed silent. Without another word, he left, leaving Brund to his grinding.

 

***

 

"Sir, are you sure that is a good idea? We could be executed for this..."

 

"Maybe, but right now that's a risk we must take. The Legate thinks that Decianus needs all of us, but I know how he thinks. I've served under him. He's not going to abandon this province, no matter what the Emperor says. Some of us will likely be remaining here anyway to repel the Thalmor forces in this land. So our duty to the Empire is to make sure this force can't get back to Cyrodiil before the main force does, and to make sure our surprise attack on the IC remains just that. I have scouts who have been watching their force, and they managed to intercept their messengers before they got too far, but it's been a few weeks now, and they're going to realize soon that their messengers did not make it. Our time to act is now. I have guards watching out for the Legate. When he sleeps, have the men march off as silently as possible. We attack at dawn, when it is bright enough for the enemy to see dust up, but not bright enough to see it clearly."

 

"Yes sir, Captain sir!"

 

"Not so loud!"

 

"Oh, right, yessir." The Nord captain shook his head and watched as the soldier left his tent. He wouldn't have to worry about betrayal, the other soldiers did not respect their legate enough for that. He was more worried about the plan. This wasn't his first battle, but it was his first time going against orders. If his plan failed, he'd risk a lot more than his life alone.

 

***

The Captain

Dawn

 

The Captain watched the sky unravel the rose reds and purples while the sun began to rise slowly to bring back the heat of the desert to burden them once more. The men suffered from skin damage often out here due to the haste of deployment and lack of preparation time for the uniforms to be more fitted to the desert, but it was only a small part of their problems. The Captain himself had to deal with intense sunburn on more than one occasion on his fair skin, though at the moment he was fully healed, and also thankful to be leaving this gods forsaken desert soon.

 

As he continued watching the sky, a soldier behind him approached, then said, "Beautiful, isn't she? You Nords have a greater appreciation for the sky than most. So I'm not surprised to see you watching her as I do." The Captain turned around to see a Dunmer legionnaire approach him, staring at the sky's red with his matching eyes. "I take it your patron is Kyne?"

 

The Captain didn't immediately answer at first, and for a moment the Dunmer thought he would not answer. "No. My guide is Boethia."

 

He didn't see it since he was still looking at the sky, but he could imagine the Dunmer's widened eyes from the sound of his voice. "Really? Well that is a rarity. Can I ask why?"

 

"It's not as strange as you think. I do still revere Kyne. As well as Ysmir, and by extension, Talos. But it was not Kyne that took revenge for her husband. Boethia was the one who ate Trinimac and birth-defecated the Dung-God. Her sphere is not unlike that of Shor's either. He is after all, a snake. A trickster. And she is the Prince of deceit, conspiracy, treason, and so on and so on. The daedra are just spirits like any other. The only difference between our divines and the daedra is that the daedra kept their ultimate immortality. Even though by doing so, they missed out on what Shor made, and are jealous. Boethia is the avenger of Shor, and a master of deceit. She is worthy to be my guide. And we shall all need it this day to make this plan work."

 

"You're an odd Nord, to be sure sera."

 

"I'm a scholar as much as I am a warrior. When pen is combined with sword, there is no deadlier force on the battlefield. Now, return with the others. We attack soon. For the Empire."

 

"For the Empire," said the Dunmer. Smiling, he walked away with confidence. He was sure that whatever the Captain had planned, he would certainly succeed.

 

***

 

"Men! I will not bore you with a pretty speech and flights of fancy. We've come to kill some goddamned Thalmor, nothing more, nothing less. We will kill them all, down to the very last mer. Any survivors are to be slain on sight. Now....I've got sword, shield, hairs on my balls and a hard on for Thalmor blood! So I'm ready to do some killing! Are you?"

 

"Yes!"

 

"I said ARE YOU?!?"

 

"Yes!"

 

"Then let us show these scullery maids the ******* a Legionnaire can give! Battlemages, march! Left side, march! Right side, march! Rear guard, march! Move out, and do your ancestors proud!"

 

The air was filled with the cries of the men as they moved in on the enemy below the large dune of which they stood. The Captain watched proudly as man and mer alike, all donned in legion red moved as one united strong force. Now more than ever, he was proud to be a legionnaire. And he prayed to all the gods that would listen that he'd live to see his son in Bruma become one as well.

 

***

 

"Sir, do you see this?" said a Thalmor soldier to his Justiciar commander.

 

"I see it. The legion has finally decided to make a push for the main force east of here. They've sent their entire force towards us in a head on assault, judging from that dust up. No matter, we'll greet them with the power of Magnus. For the Dominion!"

 

***

 

The Captain took point with the front line of soldiers behind the battlemages in the front. They were already being beset with waves of lightning and fire, but the battlemages protected them with their wall of wards. That wasn't the only thing they did, however. With their other hands, they launched firebolts from their hands in front of them into the ground, so that the magic would impact the sand and create a dust up that made it look as though their force was larger than it really was. Finally, the battlemages, hearing the approaching Thalmor rather than seeing them, fell back behind the shield wall of the Legion and pulled out their own swords and shields. The Thalmor had only moments to be surprised and even amused at the small force that attacked them before they heard the sky shattering screams and calls of soldiers attacking them from behind on their side and their flank, charging down from dunes as well.

 

The Thalmor were taken completely off guard, unsure of which force to focus on and unable to adapt or maneuver their way out of their predicament. Surrounded, and thoroughly defeated, they had no choice but to surrender. Unfortunately for them, the Captain's orders were clear. The only good Thalmor was a dead one. And there were no bad Thalmor left in the desert that day.

 

***

 

When the Captain and his men arrived back at the camp, the young Legate Brund wasted no time in meeting them on their return march. By the looks of him, one would have thought he too was in the battle, covered in blood like he was. The Captain knew better than that though. "Taking your anger on the Thalmor prisoners again I see."

 

Enraged, and breathing heavily, Brund stared into his icy eyes with his own and said, "Don't approve of that either?"

 

"Oh, you'll have no sympathy for them from me."

 

"In my tent, NOW!" said Brund, ignoring the looks of scorn his soldiers gave him as he addressed their beloved Captain with such venom in his voice. The Captain's face as always betrayed nothing. As he stepped in the tent, Brund paced by his map of Hammerfell with his arms behind his back, breathing heavily still, and trying to compose himself. "You are dishonorably discharged. You will be arrested, stripped of your rank, and sent away to survive the desert on your own for disobeying orders."

 

"Sir, permission to speak freely?"

 

"Permission denied."

 

"I guess I'll just take the liberty myself then, since you need to hear this. You can't discharge me. You can't do a damn thing to me."

 

"Is THAT SO?"

 

"It is, boy. What I did here today, it makes me a hero in the eyes of your men, and will likely make me a hero in the eyes of the General when he gets word of our victory. You discharge me for this, and the story will get out. They'll see my reasoning, and all they'll see is a veteran being punished for disobeying orders that would lead to a tactical failure, all because the boy legate went on a temper tantrum and wouldn't listen to the man left here for the very purpose of directing you."

 

"Orders are orders! They'll see that and know that my decision was just. You do not disobey your Legate and challenge his decisions when they are made!"

 

The Captain laughed now, giving a toothy grin. The only bit of emotion he'd ever shown in days. "Yes, the widdle wegate made a decision. But given it was a stupid ass decision, I've elected to ignore it. Go ahead, arrest me. But you'll be committing career suicide." The Captain threw down his sword at Brund's feet, and turned to walk away.

 

But, Brund knew he was right. He could not touch this man without hurting himself. In his rage, the young Nord let his emotions get the better of him, and he charged the captain's back, looking to put him in his place and beat him into the ground. As soon as Brund got in arm's reach, the Captain spun around and delivered a blow to the head with his legion boot in a spinning kick. Stunned, Brund could only turn his head back to try and see his opponent, which allowed the Captain to deliver a blow to his face with a punch. And then another. And another. While he was dazed, the older Nord grabbed the Legate by the back of his head and ran towards a wooden chair. With his hand still behind his head, the Captain jumped so that his weight would help him slam his face into the seat.

 

The young Legate's face could take a lot of punishment, the Captain gave him that. He was still awake, though he was too dazed to move. The man placed his arm behind his leg and wrapped it around his so that when he bent down, Brund could not move his body without causing himself great pain. "Listen here, Legate. You are nothing to me. You are ten winters short of mine, and even shorter on brains. You are a brutish fool. A bull, charging into the fray only to be slain by foes more clever. My left nutsack has more greatness contained than your entire bloodline. And you should be honored to lay beneath my feet. If you are smart, you will pretend as though you went along with my plan, if you wish to remain Legate long enough to prove yourself. If not, then let your pride get in the way and screw us both. Your choice."

 

"I-I am...going...to kill you. I swear it," Brund said, weakly.

 

"That so? Well then, remember that my name is Ulrin Red-Snow. Lest you forget it and you can't find me and are unable to keep that promise." Letting go of the Legate, Ulrin made his way out of the command tent. "Good day, Legate Brund. And congratulations on your victory."
 

***

 

Brund snapped out of his thoughts when a Stormcloak soldier with blonde hair and a braid in it sprayed mead into the camp fire and scared one of the soldiers by calling out 'dragon!' The other men all cackled with laughter as he returned to his thoughts. Ulrin Red-Snow. The man he vowed to kill. He was offered a promotion to Legate when they met up with the general, but he refused, wishing to keep his duties as a simple captain rather than seeking glory as Legate.

 

Brund found out about this by his word, and from chatter of the other soldiers. Brund was determined to regain his honor, so he stayed behind in Hammerfell when Decianus announced he'd be leaving behind "invalids". He thought surely the Empire would see his worth once he helped to slaughter many of the Thalmor in Hammerfell. But upon his return, he found out that the Legion did not want to take him back because of rumors of his disposition, which was the real reason he never got in. Not because he spoke against the WGC. After all, he wasn't the only one that did. He knew he owed only one man for this. Not that he tried to hide it. Ulrin sent him the letter of recommendation to not reinstate him personally. Another insult that demanded his blood. But he was still unable to.

 

Then later when he joined the Stormcloaks and word got out that the Bull of Hammerfell left their ranks, Ulrin found a way to get a messenger to deliver him another letter, saying that the Stormcloaks was a club for whiners, losers and wannabe heroes. And that is why the only legionnaires they had were common footsoldiers and failed officers such as Brund himself. That was just as well, as Brund took that messenger and did horrible things to him to find out his enemy's location. And with the backing of an army, he could finally have his revenge.

 

But it was not to be. For Ulrin would once again have the last laugh as his son of all people killed him first. And then again when his son was in charge of him. And then again when that son was promoted to general, and then promoted him to general. And then finally again when that same son took the High General position, and even worse, convinced Brund himself that he wasn't the best man for the job. He watched that man from afar in secret, monitoring his military career even before Falkreath, hearing how he saved the King himself from Alduin's dragonfire. Growing more and more hateful of not only Ulrin, but of his mark on the world beyond the grave. It was as if he hadn't died at all.

 

Yes, Brund watched him carefully for a long time in secret. Letting no one know he knew him or his father. Brund thought about that promise to Ulrin, and how he gave up on it finally when his protege beat his in the duel. He lost to Ulrin in almost every way imaginable. So there was no longer any reason to pursue revenge on the Red-Snows.

 

Until now. When he got wind of the abilities of the briarhearts, and that the hagravens were responsible, he knew what he had to do, and that he could finally gain his revenge by slaying Ulrin's son and humiliating him. Brund finally stood and walked away with Alfr Vega and stepped into his tent to rest for the night, thinking on when the perfect chance to strike would be. He had the chance to do so when the werewolf had him distracted, but that was too easy. He wanted him alone, one on one.

 

As Brund took off his tunic, he held a candle light up to his chest to look again at the spot where his heart once was. Instead, a square diamond shaped piece of steel covered it. Burned and stuck into his flesh and the bones of his ribcage to protect his secret. Pounding on it, he smiled to himself before blowing the candle light out. He had forgotten his promise once. But as always, Brund found a way to get what he wanted.

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Saladin Fury-Eye, 

Night, 

Valenwood

 

The moist atmosphere of the forest was further enhanced by the torrent of rain failing down upon the large trees of Valenwood. Rodents of various sizes scutered about the forest floor, trying to avoid the large drops of water falling like a volley of arrows. The large overgrowth's of vegetation were in abundance around the area, shielding Fort Bahlok from vision. The perimeter around the ancient fort was devoid of most wildlife, with it being exclusively birds, and small rodents, but slightly to the south, the area was covered in animal life. It's original name was Abasel, which meant Forbidden Hall in Ayleid. From what the Dominion could tell, it was used as a wayward outpost for the vast empire during its height. Many centuries later, the Empire found it, and renovated it to suit it's needs as an imperial Garrison. When the Empire was driven out of Valenwood, the dominion adapted it as a prison for political rouges. Finding little use for it, the dominion later de-commissioned it, before being giving it to the Bloodwolves as a base of operations. It suited their needs, as a force primarily used in special covert operations, and anti-insurgency ops. It had a larger than usual prisoner holding area, and built in were advance interrogation centers.  The Bloodwolve's commanding officer, Saladin Fury-Eye, renamed it "Bahlok", which meant Hunger in ancient Nordic/Skaalish. The fort itself was medium in size, big enough to hold around four hundred people, and was made of solid stone. The old Aldmeri fort was actually built over by Modern Imperial stonework.  

 

Colonel Fury-Eye was in his office, readying himself for tonight's operation. He secured his belt, which contained vials of poison, flashpowder, and blinding dust. He gently checked his sheaved Jagged dark-steel combat knife, which he tested with the tip of his finger. He left his gold-ebony shortblade in his equipment chest, it wouldn't do much in the dark. He wore his dark green dyed clothing, colored with camouflage, along with dark leather gloves, vanbraces, boot's and a chest guard. Swiftly, he put on his black longcoat, On his back, he strapped two steel longswords, along with a quiver of large ebony arrows, and his trademark ebony greatbow. Finally, he put on his wolf-skull Balcava, while bringing up the hood attached to his longcoat. Double checking everything, Saladin, walked out of the room, and into the hallway. As he passed by Bloodwolf personnel, each stopped to clear the way and salute there commanding officer, which Saladin lazily returned. The hallways were illuminated by candlelight, Saladin would have preferred pale moonlight to light his way, but the moon was blocked by the stormclouds today. 

 

Uncommon to most people, most Bloodwolf personnel were up at this late hour. Almost all Bloodwolf operations took place at night, so to help the soldiers eyesight in the dark, Saladin ordered all training sessions to be conducted at night, from twelve AM to six AM. It took awhile for the men to get used to, but they soon got into schedule. Which, unsurprisingly, lead to the men sleeping during the day. Saladin's mind soon trailed to Miss Homunal's orders, 

 

Hmmmm a lone wolf operative. Capable of shooting a barrage of accurate arrowfire in less than thirty seconds, before fleeing into the woods. Reminds me of someone. I hate judging skill on race, but it's almost certainly a Bosmer. The only archers whom I have meet that equal my skill in the bow is Edaurd, and Bosmer.  Of which resistance cell, I have no clue. No Thalmor Intel on insurgence cells in the area specified.  I should make a note of me writing a report, and requisition for more agents in that area, to Justicar Vernius. Can’t have my men going in completely blind. Surely he would see the need. Oh yes back to the mission, the Dominion office in his report, mentioned all attacks occurred in a certain area of forest. Very close to a major road. I'll first need to double check with him in the town, before doing a scan of the area. I could of course request the use of a Dominion military task force, but I highly doubt my request would be granted-

 

"Excuse me sir?" 

 

A voice brought Saladin back to the real world. She was wearing the standard issue longcoat of the Bloodwolves, but unlike most, it was white in color. Signifying her as a member of the medical corps. Even without looking at the rank insignia, Lorgar knew who she was,

 

"Yes, Warrant Officer Valecia?"

 

Warrant Officer Avia Valecia, the Bloodwolve's Chief Medical Officer, was formerly a member of the Imperial Army, second legion. She was a kind. if stern imperial woman. She was in her early fifties, had blonde/greyish hair, and was quite tall. Her and Lorgar had served together during the great war, when Valecia and him were part of the seventh legion. They had a short relationship, and when it broke, they nonetheless parted as friends. She eventually rose to the rank of Tribune, and chief medical officer of the second legion. Unfortunantlety, a senior legion officer, had her dishonorably discharged when she failed to save the life of his son, to no fault of her own. She happily accepted Lorgar's offer. Her, Lucienus, and Homunal were the only ones in his outfit to know his true identity, 

 

"I want to talk about treatment of prisoners." 

 

Not this again...

 

"Look, Warrant officer, we've already discussed this. Non VIP prisoners are only to be given basic medical treatment. We can’t afford to waste valuable supplies. Those orders come straight from Justicar Vernius."" 

 

Her face filled with shame at the mention of their chosen employer, Valecia had taken the news about them working under the Dominion hard, She sheepishly said, 

 

"Aye sir." 

 

Valecia had a kind heart, a rarity among the mercenary unit. She always had been compassionately to the wounded, regardless of which side they were on. Which was weakness. However, her skill in surgery and medicine was unmatched in the armed forces of Tamriel, and was very handy with a knife. Meaning Lorgar made an exception, 

 

Saladin frowned under his Balcava, before saying, "If anyone is in dire need of medical attention, and if i'm not ordered otherwise, I'll have Captain Velrius and Lieutenant Havani use magic. That's all I can do." And without further ado, Lorgar walked past the women, sharply saluting. Of course, he would like to gently reassure her that they would do his best to assist the wounded, regardless of their affiliation, but Saladin couldn't afford to show weakness. Finally reaching the door out of the fort, Lorgar stepped outside into the torrential downpour. 

 

The area outside of the fort was being pelted with rain, as was the Blood wolf officer.  He slowly walked south of the base, before being stopped by a voice,

 

“Boss, Sir.â€

 

Lorgar turned around to see two dozen Bloodwolf soldiers saluting, along with another one infront. None of them were wearing their unit’s longcoat, instead wearing solely long leather pants. The cold rain fell upon there muscular body, most of them were covered in scars. The one infront, presumably the leader, was wearing a Balcava, along with the camouflaged leather armor of their unit. Lorgar knew this soldier, Sergeant Bjorn Hell-Axe. He was formerly a member of the Stormcloak army, an officer.  He was one of the gangleaders involved in the infamous rapes that happened in the city. Before he could be brought to justice, he escaped from prison, and joined up with a group of bandits. Lorgar appreciated the irony, when Lucienus told him of his recruitment. His brutality was well suited for his job as the Bloodwolves trainer,

 

He crisply returned the salute, before saying, “Yes, sergeant?†To Lorgar’s annoyance, Bjorn tended to refer to him as “boss.†Bjorn straightened his back before asking,

 

“Were doing a session on advanced Close Quarters Combat. I was wondering if you would join us, and provide a demonstration of how useful it can be.

 

Saladin wasted no time throwing of his strapped longswords, and taking off his longcoat. Nodding his head, he went side by side with the Non-Commissioned OIfficer. Saladin could tell, Bjorn was smiling under his Balcava, he stepped forward, and addressed the line of soldiers,

 

“Listen up Pups. Boss over here is going to be joining us.  We’re going to have a little demonstration. Anyone who wants to get there ass kicked, but has balls, step forward.â€

 

Ironically, the first one who did was a female soldier. Who saluted sharply, which caused the rest of the men to flush in embarrassment,

 

“Well then, it seems lance Corporal Emily has more junk then you do, men.†Unlike the rest due to them being all men, the soldier was wearing a braw over her…parts. Her hair was done very short, and had a scar on her right cheek,

 

“Ready boss.† She simply said,

 

Damn it,

 

“Try to take me down…â€

 

Lorgar approached the women, under the falling rain. She ran forward and threw a punch. As lighting flashed, and thunder roared, Saladin side stepped to the right, before grabbing the women’s arm, twisting her into an armlock, and forcing her to her knees, Lorgar treated her like how he would treat any other enemy soldier, regardless of her gender. She struggled for a bit, but was stopped by Lorgar applying more pressure, before she tapped out. Lorgar released her. After that, he stepped forwards, and said, in a rather serious, and gruff voice,

 

“Close Quarters Combat, or CQC for short, is the basis of hand to hand combat. If you are disarmed, or happen to lose your weapon, your hands can be invaluable to saving your life.â€

 

The rain began to come down ever harder, causing a sort of ambiance to the scene. It was nearly pitch black outside now, as Lorgar continued, 

 

“A weapon is nothing, without the hands to wield them. To master your blade, axe, mace, or bow, you must first master the use of your hands. Which is why knowledge unarmed combat is always valuable to learn.â€

 

He turned around,

 

“Listen up, for us, there is no victory. We are Bloodwolves, hounds of the battlefield.â€

 

As he began to walk away from the group all of the soldiers saluted crisply, before one spoke up,

 

“Sir in revolution, do you not win, or die?â€

 

Saladin chuckled,

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