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Civil War Aftermath Chapter 3: Season's End pt2


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In the land where all color together flees, bring the people to their knees,

First go to where the mead runs free, then don't forget the wonderful cheese,

Spread it around, spread it around, on the ground throughout the town,

Then put them somewhere safe and sound, in the grate! Don't let them drown,

Watch them run, watch them grow! Sit back and enjoy the show,

Do this to make them all fear, unless they agree to shave their beards,

Where my chosen failed, you shall succeed, now go and do complete this deed,

Madness is an ensnaring tree, and in this land you'll plant my seed.

 

"What the hell are you babbling about, Dunmer?" said a guard to a cloaked mer on the road to Whiterun.

 

"They were thought gone, but they left behind their children," she answered.

 

"Say what? Okay, crazy bitch, stop right there." The guard pulled out a sword and pointed it towards the rambling elf before nodding at the wagon that her horse was pulling It had many crates in the back, much more than one would expect one person to carry. "What's in the wagon?"

 

"Why, it's only cheese, sir."

 

"What? Pff, yea right. Where in the hell would you find all that...." The man walked to the back of the wagon and popped open one of the crates with his sword, then said, "....cheese."

 

"See? I told you, my handsome Nord man. I'm a cheese dealer, and today I'm going to have a festival celebrating cheese! Would you like some?"

 

The hell? Well, I guess there's no law against someone being insane and wasting a trip. I'll let the others deal with it. Don't feel like explaining where I got a whole wagon of cheese from. "Just get the hell out of here, you crazy bitch. I don't have time for this." The guard shooed her off and left her to go wherever.

 

After he left, one of the boxes under the others started to shake, until she kicked the side of the wagon. Smiling at the little ruse of hers working, the mer continued her walk to Whiterun, mumbling words to herself as she did.

 

***

 

Stalks-Deep-Waters

Whiterun

Early Morning

 

Stalks woke up with a major headache. The bed sheets he was lying on were soft. He didn't open his eyes but he knew what the headache usually meant. Feeling movement from the other side of the bed he stretched out his arm. Please let it be scaly, please let it be scaly. his hand crept under the He thought to himself as he lied his hand crept to the other side of the bed. As he the hand felt something round and soft, he found to his dismay that the skin wasn't scaly. Drawing a small sigh he carefully pulled back the hand so he wouldn't wake up the bed mate. He carefully sat up in the bed, threw his legs over the edge and put his face in his hands as he tried to cope with the hangover. After a minute of sitting still he looked up and around the room. It looked to be a middle class house with a decently sized bedroom. The bedroom only having a double bed, a dresser with a few books on it on the opposite side of the room and a small chair and table in the corner to the right. The door itself was a little bit to the right, in front of Stalks. And Stalks gear and clothes lied in a pile on and around the chair. Waiting another minute to get used to the headache he slowly got up from the bed and walked over to the chair and started getting dressed. Careful not to make too much sound as he put on the armor and the weapons he looked back to the bed and saw a nord woman with short blonde hair. She looked to still be in deep sleep. When all he had equipped his clothes, armor and other gear he took quick look at the books on the dresser before opening the door. As expected a couple of the books were about an argonian maid. With that curiosity sated he sneaked out the door and through another slightly larger room and out the back door. 

Outside the door was a quiet back street of Whiterun. Looking up he could see that the stars still lingered in the sky as the sun was about to rise in the horizon. He silently made his way out from the back street and onto the round market square with the well in the center. Feeling very dry and thirsty he walked up to the well as fast as he could in his hangover. Once at the well he leaned onto it's edge for a while, still trying to cope with the headache, before he started to pull the rope to haul up the bucket of water. Once he got the bucket out of the well he started to drink with even stopping to catch a breath till half the bucket was empty. Then he dropped it down the well again in a very unceremonious fashion. Having only arrived late last night, most of the information he had gotten from people when asked about Lilith had been vague and he had instead been directed to the steward at Dragonsreach. He headed off towards the big towering building high up in the northern part of the city, the Jarl's palace wasn't hard to miss. It took him some time to walk all the way through the city and up the stairs till he reached Dragonsreach, the sun had already begun the peek up over the horizon. The big wooden doors lied on the other side of a bridge that crossed over a large pond of water. The guards gave him the usual suspicious look as he walked over the bridge. Feeling more sober now he opened the big door on the left just enough for him to slip though and quietly walked inside and closed the large door. Inside he found a very large hall with two long tables on the side of a large hearth. The throne itself was in the middle at the far end. But the throne was empty and no steward was in sight. Only a few guards here and there, some of the yawning. Their yawns also affected Stalks as he opened his large mouth and yawned himself. He sat down in a chair at the end of the table on his left, leaned back and closed his eyes waiting for the sun to rise and the city awake. But soon he found himself taking a nap. 

What seemed to be only a few moments later, Stalks felt at first a firm tap on his back, which then turned to a strong punch on his shoulder. "Wake up!" said a feminine voice from behind him. A young and tall Nord woman with sharp features and grey hair stood behind him, impatiently tapping her her foot with her arms crossed.

 

Now stone sober Stalks quickly got out of the chair and bowed before the woman. "Sorry, I got up a little too early and was still a bit tired." 

 

The girl still wasn't quite used to seeing people bow to her. "I am Olfina Gray-Mane, Vignar's Housecarl. What is your business here? The Jarl hates it when he has visitors first thing in the morning."

 

"I was directed here for more information on the bandit Lilith." 

 

"Lilith? I don't know of any bandits here. What did she look like?"

 

"A dunmer woman. She looks like a... dark elf. And she may be wearing a bronze like scaly armor." 

 

Olfina raised her eyebrows, then said, "Oh, you mean that insane freak! Gods, she tried to come into the city and sell a bunch of cheese, but the guards wouldn't allow it. Said she was too suspicious. So when they told her to leave, she threw a bunch of crates filled with little skeevers at them! One of the guards got swarmed, and the other was killed by her magic. In the scuffle they got a good look of her armor, they said it looked like real dragon scale armor. Anyway, she left, and the guards tried to finish off the rest of the little skeevers before they ran in the city, but they didn't get them all. We're still trying to kill them all. They've been a constant nuisance to the market district."

 

"Any idea in which direction she left? I've been tracking her for a few days now." 

 

"Not a clue. There's a bounty out on her for seven hundred and fifty septims, but Vignar sent a request for the Companions to handle it. The twins are handling it themselves personally. Apparently, Vilkas stepped on one and got it on his boots, and is taking this personal. Or maybe that was a joke from Vignar... whatever, in any case, I wouldn't bother if I were you, but if you really want to try and beat them to her, I doubt they'd mind the competition. The Harbinger's gone, but Aela should be there still. Try not to get on her bad side."

 

"Any idea where they went?" 

 

"Not a clue. Like I said, you'll have to ask Aela," said Olfina. She turned at the sound of someone yelling upstairs, then said, "You better get moving. Old man's not in a good mood already."

 

"And where's Aela?" 

 

Olfina scoffed, then shook her head and said slowly, "She's... a Companion. She's where the Companions are. The big boat building you walked past? Surely you know about the C-, nevermind, I'll let them tell you. Now scoot!"

 

"Yes ma'am." Stalks then hurried down the large stairs, out of Dragonsreach and down more stairs. He walked past the big Talos statue and the big tree. And he almost bumped into some yawning priest that was on his way towards the big statue. When he reached the big upside down boat he looked it over for a few seconds in a slight wonder. Then he walked in through on of the doors on buildings front, or the boat's side, and found a large oval room with a long hearth in the middle with tables around it. And at first glance there seemed to be no one there. "Is Aela here?" Stalks yelled.

 

From a bench in a more shady part of the hall, Aela watched the lizard with amusement as he called out her name. Obviously he hadn't noticed her yet. Her steely eyes sized him up the way she did everyone she just met. Measuring their worth. Putting down a large slab of venison steak, she said with a full mouth, "Who calls for me?"

 

Stalks turned his head to where he heard the answer and saw the nord. "Someone who wants to see the twins."

 

Aela's face went from curious to hostile in a second. "I suggest you reword that phrase there, stranger."

 

"Sorry, that came out wrong. I'm tracking a bandit and I was told the twins might know where she is." 

 

Her face settled, and her eyes narrowed as she picked up the slab of meat and took a sizable chunk off into her mouth. With the meat in hand, she chewed, still regarding the lizard curiously. After finally swallowing and burping, she said, "You mean Farkas and Vilkas then. Yes, they were sent after her. She's likely already dead. You're wasting your time."

 

"I have a feeling I'm not. They don't know her as I do." 

 

"Hm, it's true they said she was a tricky one. Magic user. We're not normally in the business of sharing information for our contracts...but if you can actually kill her first before they do, that would be something. Vilkas would especially be upset. So, last time I spoke to them, they said that they picked up a trail leading to a road south of this city that goes east, leading away from here opposite of the one that goes to Riverwood. They think she may be held up in a cave the bandits that took refuge there call White River Watch. They're probably almost already there. They left a half day ago, and they travel very fast."

 

"Great. And I haven't even eaten breakfast yet." He voiced his thoughts before quickly leaving through the door again. Walking in a quick pace through the city he snatched some dry meat and an apple up from one of the bags and started eating without stopping. He kept walking through the gates and to the road south of the city where the farm fields went alongside the road. There he turned east towards the big towering mountain that lied in the distance. The sun rose and stood at it's highest when he reached a stone bridge crossing a river the flowed down from the cliffs far in the south. Keeping his quick pace he started walking faster and faster till he was almost running. And the sun began it's descent and was closing in on the horizon as Stalks found a somewhat well traveled dirt road deviating from the stone beaten path. Crouching he looked down at the dirt road he examined the footprints. Mostly leather and fur footprints but also some of the smooth, evenly shaped and deep prints of someone wearing heavy armor. He walked up the path carefully and more carefully as he got further up the path till he was practically sneaking. 

 

"Well, did you find another way inside, brother?"

 

"Nothin. Though I did see a guard further up above us, but there's no way to climb. Sometimes I almost wish we didn't go with the Harbinger to Ysgramor's Tomb just yet. I could've smashed straight through this door no problem if we hadn't."

 

"Stow that talk, Farkas. I'm glad we did. A real man relies on his own strength. Or in this case, his brute brother's, haha. Ram that door as hard as you can. Put that knucklehead of yours to good use."

 

Stalks slowed down as he heard voices ahead but he couldn't yet see exactly who it was, but he could make an easy guess. A few feet ahead he peek forward behind a cliff. What he saw was two nord men wearing full heavy armor with lots of fur trimmings and the steel had, despite looking quite clean, a slight brownish tint to it. They were standing in front of the cave which a bit oddly enough had a wooden wall and door covering the entrance. One of the men charged the door and a loud thud was heard along with a light crack, but the door didn't open and the nord staggered a little from the impact. Stalks lightly shook his head at the thickheaded display and walked forward from his little hiding place and approached the nords, with the hand visible at hi sides. "You Farkas and Vilkas?" He asked before they could notice him. 

 

None of them responded, and the man Stalks assumed was Vilkas continued watching the other one try to break down the door with his arms crossed. Stalks stopped a couple of yards from the men. "Are you the twins from the Companions?" He then asked, a little louder this time. 

 

"Beat it! We're busy. I don't know how you found us here, but we're not taking new members right now. You wanna join, you'll have to wait till the Harbinger gets back, though I wouldn't get your hopes up if I were you. Not just anyone can join the Companions."

 

"I'm here to ask about Lilith." 

 

That made Vilkas turn with alert eyes as his steely glare settled on the Argonian. "So you've come to try and steal my coin and Farkas' fun, huh? Well listen here, friend. That. Isn't happening. I bet Aela's the one to blame for this isn't she?"

 

"Yeah, she told me. And I don't mind if you charge in first. I don't think you can take her on anyway."

 

"Ha! A cocky Argonian, huh? Cute. I'm not impressed by the notion. You don't seem to understand who we are, lizard. We're the Companions, best band of drunken rabble in all of Skyrim. When there's a problem, you come to us. My brother and I trained the High General of the milkdrinkers they call Stormcloaks personally. And that man runs the Necro Nords, who aren't like the rest of the rabble the King calls soldiers. So what does that say about us? That we're the best of the best. I'm not boasting. Boasting is for fools that soon paint the ground with their own blood. I'm just stating facts. Now, if you wish to tag along, I suppose another dead milk drinker wouldn't make me shed any tears. As soon as Farkas breaks down that door, we'll be on our way."

 

"If you say so." Stalks walked up a small hill to the left of the cave entrance and sat down besides a somewhat broad pine tree while waiting for the nords to break down the door. I'd be surprised if they aren't filled with arrows or fireballs once they beat down the door. He thought to himself, half amused but also half worried of might come out of that cave once the door was open. 

 

A few moments later when Farkas finally did break the door down, Stalk's suspicions were correct. The Nord disappeared inside the cave along with the door, and some shouting along with an explosion could be heard from where he and Vilkas stood. Vilkas was sitting on the ground, bored, and stood up half halfheartedly when Farkas finally made way for them. "Well, lets get a move on, then."

 

When Vilkas peered inside, he was greeted with the sight of Farkas' boot resting on a slightly charred door with two bodies under it about twelve feet away from the cave entrance. A bow could be seen next to one of the bandit's outstretched hands beneath it.

 

"Are you done letting the bandits know we're here?" Stalks shouted from where he sat. 

 

"Not by a long shot," yelled Vilkas, smirking as he took his sword off his back.

 

"Vilkas, who's that?" said Farkas.

 

"A spectator. Don't worry about it."

 

Stalks stood up on his feet and walked up to the cave entrance so he could peek inside without getting into range for anyone who might be lurking inside. "Go on then."

 

"Farkas, take point."

 

"Right." said Farkas. The cave was rather cramped, and so far, it didn't seem like the place was very populated, though Vilkas noted all the empty mead bottles spread about everywhere. Though with Nords, that wasn't always the greatest indication of numbers. Eventually, the passageway started to open up, and they were in a room  with a small opening in the back that seemed to go up further in the cave. As they entered, eight bandits came pouring out, but they stopped when they saw Vilkas' armor.

 

"Crap, it's a Companion!"

 

"Oh great, what the hell do you three want with us? We haven't caused the Jarl any trouble. This Jarl, anyway."

 

Stalks who had followed a couple of yards behind, snacking on an apple, just looked at the bandits' hesitation with a mix of surprise and suspicion. "Are you going to fight or not?" 

 

"Fight for what? We didn't do nothin! You came into our hideout!"

 

"What kind of bandits are you? Have some backbone, or it won't be any fun slaughtering you," said Farkas. Vilkas decided not to interfere, as he found this all rather amusing.

 

"But if you're bandits that means we can kill you legally." Stalks said while also shewing on the last bites of the apple.

 

"We're not bandits! Well, I mean we are, but we didn't do nuthin lately. Too many soldiers around n' such," said a Nord in the back.

 

Vilkas said, "Well, you did something before, which means I bet at least one of you raped or killed someone weaker than you because you could. Only fair we get a shot at it, right? Farkas."

 

"On it. Enough talk." Without another word, Farkas charged at the eight men, swinging his sword and knocking one bandit wearing leather armor aside by his arm, though the impact didn't sever it. It merely broke it. The man behind him however who wore leather hide armor got a steel blade in his belly and died slowly after being lifted in the air while Farkas' steely eyes pierced through him as his sword did.

 

"Well now we're getting somewhere." But Stalks just leaned against the cave wall with one hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. If they say I'm a spectator, I'll be a spectator. 

 

Vilkas watched as the bandits started panicking and drew their blades. Farkas shoved his blade in an incoming bandit, using the body on his sword to prevent being hit. Another bandit, a slightly smarter one tried getting behind him, until Vilkas tapped him on his shoulder, then cut him down when he turned. The other four tried swarming them, but the brothers went back to back, keeping them at bay with the length of their greatswords and forcing them to fight on their terms. Vilkas impaled a bandit in front of him, then punched another charging bandit with his left hand before he could strike, leaving him open for Farkas to cut down. Another one tried jumping Vilkas now as he yanked his sword out, using his boot to help, but Vilkas couldn't bring the sword up quick enough, and he saw the Argonian standing around watching. So, smirking from an idea coming to him, he ducked to dodge the decapitation attempt, then slipped his arm between the bandit's crotch, lifting him up over his head before throwing the bandit in Stalk's direction. And the last standing bandit took the opportunity to run out of the cave, so only the injured one on the floor remained, as well as the one Vilkas just tossed.

 

Stalks quickly jumped over the incoming bandit and stretched out his tail to trip over the running bandit as soon as he landed. When the fleeing bandit fell over Stalks quickly drew his dagger and embedded it in the bandit's neck. The bandit that had been tossed however seemed to have been knocked out, at least he didn't move. "Don't toss people at your audience!" Stalks shouted back at the twins. 

 

The brothers just looked over at Stalks and laughed as they finished off the last one on the ground with the broken arm. "Good reflexes there, friend. I thought you were done for," joked Vilkas.

 

"You grow up in the wilds of Black Marsh, you die if you're not quick." He said as he cleaned off the blood from his dagger on the bandit's back before sheathing it and then checking the fallen one's pockets where he found two Septims and some junk. 

 

Noticing a few elven bandits in the mix, Farkas said, "Vilkas, was any one of those men Lilith?"

 

His brother shook his head and put a hand on his brow and said, "Lilith is a girl's name, Farkas."

 

"Hey, you never know with elves. I've heard some pretty feminine names from them before."

 

"Hm, true. Don't let Athis hear you say that. By the way, feminine? Big word for you brother!"

 

"Oh come off it, brother. Your sword arm's getting pretty slow, I noticed..."

 

Being done looting the tossed bandit, who proved to be still alive but was breathing unevenly, Stalks glanced over the other bandit corpses t decide on which corpse to loot next he saw that one of the bandits' swords had begun hovering in the air. "Don't drop your guard you fools." He shouted at the twins while making himself ready to duck and dodge. 

 

Shortly after he said that, the blade shot at the brothers while they spoke. Vilkas heard the sound of magic, and instinctively jumped to the side, but Farkas hadn't. A loud clang echoed through the cave as the blade impacted his steel armor as he puffed out his chest to block it. "Who needs to dodge when you've got thick armor!" he said.

 

"Hmph, just like your skull," said Vilkas when he got up. "Okay, coward. Enough tricks. Show yourself!"

 

Stalks stayed silent as he grabbed his spear and put himself in a battle stance as he almost frantically looked around to see the attacker. Even throwing a few glances over the shoulder towards the cave entrance. 

 

"WILD CARD!" A woman's voice was heard in the middle of where everyone was standing, and suddenly from beneath the darkness, Lilith popped out of nowhere with her ebony sword flying towards Stalks' head. An empty bottle could be seen at her feet.

 

"Why me?" Stalks managed to mutter to himself before quickly dodging to the right and avoided the sword. 

 

"Because I remember you, my pet!" she yelled as she pulled her arms back with the blade to get ready to spear at Stalks. Before she could, a strong hand gripped itself around her cloaked arm, preventing her from moving it. When she looked behind her, Farkas was towering above her with his great sword above her, about to shove it down the back of her neck. Just before the plunge, her magic picked up a nearby boulder and she threw it in her own direction, diving just in time to knock Farkas away into the dark of the cave.

 

"Farkas!" yelled Vilkas as he charged the eastern devil. 

 

Stalks backed off a few steps so he got out of reach for her sword and then prepared to charge her himself while waiting for the other nord got her attention. Vilkas was on her quicker than she expected, but she managed to side step his large swing in time, choosing not to parry such a large blade for risk of ruining her edge or losing her sword. Afterwards, she popped the contents of a small white bottle into her mouth and threw it at the enraged Nord, then said, "Skooma!" before starting to slash at him recklessly, and surprisingly fast.

 

Stalks circled a little around them as much as he could so he was behind her but a bit to her right, then he took the opportunity and charged her as she was busy swinging her sword at Vilkas who looked to have some trouble trying to keep and parry her blows. Stalks' blow struck her, though the drugged up Dunmer didn't seem to notice. Not because of the armor which was clearly visible now that the two had cut up her robe in ribbons, but because Lilith didn't care about the pain of what was surely a few broken bones and probably some internal bleeding, though the armor was holding up for the most part. In the midst of this and her demented laughing, a loud battle cry split their ears from the darkness of the cave. Farkas came charging at the trio with the boulder in his arms, running at them like a mad bull before he tossed the great stone at the group, with Lilith in the center. Stalks quickly withdrew his spear from Lilith and jumped back when the boulder came flying.

 

Vilkas did the same thing, but all Lilith could do was stare wide eyed as the boulder came flying at her. Even high, she knew that shit just hit the thu'um. At the last second however, she managed to catch the boulder with her telekinesis spell. Before she could laugh from relief though, a bear sized boot came flying into the side of her face, knocking her down flat. Farkas was pretty sure he heard a crunch.

 

While she was down, her off hand twitched, and she glowed with a golden aura, then sheathed her blade and scurried off to the back of the cave, leading up into the rest of the hideout. "After her!" yelled Farkas as he charged their prey after picking up his blade that he dropped.

 

As the other two nords charged after the dunmer Stalks didn't charge after her but instead walked at a fast pace, letting the nords go on ahead. The eastern devil was fast, but somehow, the brothers were faster, just barely, and they were hot on her ass like hounds. Being so close to death put the fear of Boethia in her and sobered her up mighty quick. "Stop running and face your mauling like a man, elf!" yelled Farkas as he dragged his blade on the stone cave wall with one hand, making a loud scraping noise that made the hairs raise on Lilith's neck. Finally she reached the top of the cave, and a blinding light signified that they reached the outside. She was trapped now, standing on an area on the side of the small mountain overlooking a cliff leading down to the cave entrance below. The brothers could be heard not to far behind her from within, but there was nowhere to go but down. 

Stalks was a bit behind, surprised that there were no traps in place. And when he saw the first glance of sunlight against a wall far into the tunnel he picked up pace and ran as fast as he could to catch up. Even faster than the twins. 

Farkas came into the light first before Vilkas, neither of them stopping to cut her down. She had expected them to stop and say something like 'nowhere to run now!' but the look in the brutish one's eyes told her they were too excited and worked up for that. She did the only thing she could have in that situation. Jump.

Farkas and Vilkas watched as her body skidded on the side of the mountain at an alarming rate. She was really working that dragon scale armor for all it was worth. She landed hard, but she was lucky. Lucky that the only thing she broke was her sword arm. Only someone insane would be crazy enough to attempt something like that. Lucky for her, she was. Farkas and Vilkas were brave, but not stupid enough to attempt what she just did. Looking up at them, she smiled and said, "Hah haha! The Madgod provides!"

 

Just coming out coming out of the cave to see the twins standing at the edge and looking down when he heard Lilith scream he knew what he had to do. Turning and running back into the cave he ran for all his legs worth. Past the bandit corpses, for which he felt a little regret for not having to loot, and straight out of the cave and up a nearby cliff to get a better view. From there he stressed as he looked up along the mountainside and the surrounding landscape. Hoping to catch a glimpse of her. While Stalks was running to find her, and the twins ran to do the same, Lilith turned around to scram out of there as fast as she could. Except when she did, her red eyes settled on the figure of a slender Nord in skimpy looking "armor", if you could call it that. Her eyes were fierce, and she had dark green warpaint in streaks over her face as though it were a swipe from a beast. The drawn bow in her hand made Lilith stop in her tracks. Aela smiled as she said, "All mine."

 

She anticipated her running away at the last second, and adjusted her aim on her skull, then let fly. The arrow hit its mark, sticking out of one end of her face and through the other. Lilith fell hard on the rough cobblestone of the road, where she finally laid. Dead. Aela smiled with satisfaction and placed her bowstring around her, resting the bow on her back and taking out a steel sword to remove her head.

 

Vilkas and Farkas got to where Stalks was just in time to see Aela in the distance a few yards away from Lilith's body.

 

"I don't believe it..." they both said in harmony.

 

And almost on cue, Lilith yet again stood up from where she was, arrow still in her face, and took off like the wind. The arrow went through one end of her cheek and out the other, knocking out several teeth, and wounding her tongue as well, yet the skooma coursing through her veins continued to dull the pain as she took off. Aela stood wide eyed at the unbelievable luck of this Dunmer, but soon recovered, taking after her as fast as she could into the wilderness. With new invigorating hope to make this bounty his, Stalks jumped down the cliff and ran after them with the twins in tow. The armored brothers kept up well but soon started to fall behind the faster argonian.

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Lilly Quentas, Gracchus Ceno, 

Imperial City

Morning,

 

"Water, Raine. Water." Lilly pleaded, as she struggled to put on her knee high socks, along with her white/green dress. Raine gave her a smirk, as she chugged, a large bottle labelled "Seventy percent", rushed forward, and planted a kiss on Lillies lips, before releasing the liquid from her mouth into Lillies. Lilly struggled away, waving her hands,

 

"Not that water." She scanned her surroundings, she was in Raine's apartment, which was covered in books, trinkets, and other junk. Looks like it was going to be one of those days

 

****

Pentuilas Occultus HQ

 

"Ma'em. Letter." A black armored Occultus Soldier offered Lilly a sealed document as she looked up, with a strange red wolf seal. Lilly gulped in a mouthful of air, dreading to read it. She accepted it, before tearing up the envelope,

 

Dont bother, Colonel. You know you wont be able to track my unit, or the wolf. Keep your end of the deal. I gave you all the information on your sisters status and whereabouts, keep the mage off our backs, Your just wasting resources searching for us. Focus your assets on the upcoming war, and assisting her majesty. Your sister is safe, if you don't silence your hounds, I wont be able to guarantee that. Remember,  I can bury you and your career. Burn this letter after reading it. 

-LS

 

Lilly used her right hand to conjure a ball of flame, torching the letter in an inferno. She got out of her chair, before saying to the guard on duty,

 

"I'll be visiting General Ceno."

 

***

 

Imperial Legion HQ

 

Lilly cleared her throat, and knocked on the wooden door, 

"High General Ceno are you there?" She said in a polite voice,

 

"Enter," Gracchus said simply, not bothering to look up from the book he was reading.

He's married, and quite faithful to his wife, so no need to act seductive, 

 

Lilly gently opened the door, and entered into the High General's office. Lilly approached, and bowed her head, "Sir, allow me to introduce myself, Colonel Lillin Quentas, Spymaster to her Majesty Moitre."

 

Gracchus stood and returned the bow, those his wasn't as low as he was of a higher rank. He motioned to a chair, for her to sit. 

"I am aware of who you are, Colonel Quentas. Nonetheless, it is a pleasure to finally meet. Would you like some tea? I find it clears out the odor of the awful cigars Tullius was so fond of," Gracchus said, walking over to a kettle of water that he proceeded to put to a boil in the fireplace behind his desk.

"

That would be lovely thank you." Lilly took a seat,"Gaius always loved smoking imperial golden, though they were horrible for his lungs."

 

"And everyone else's too," Gracchus said, bringing the kettle over to pour two cups, one for him and one for Lilly. "Sugar?"

 

"Yes please. If you have any cream, could I steal some? No need to limit myself with a diet." She smiled and felt her stomach.

 

"No need, I have plenty," Gracchus said, stirring a sugar in his before adding the sugar and cream to Lilly's. "What brings you here, Colonel? I assume it isn't my tea making skills," Gracchus laid the saucer and cup on the edge of his desk closest to Lilly, as he sat down.

 

Lilly nodded in thanks, before taking a sip,"Ah how marvellous. Almost as good as Raines." She layed her cup gently, "Well, I wanted to meet you and congratulate you on your promotion."

 

"I appreciate the sentiment, but it is not official until Snow-Strider returns to make it so. I urged the Empress to permit it on an interim basis only, as he would no doubt want a say. He is a little more, shall we say, thorough than she. He does not know me as well, although he contributed I our cause in Skyrim, and will be less likely to let personal feelings influence his decision. Since they are also to be married, it seemed pertinent the future Emperor had a say in who leads his military," Gracchus said sincerely, drinking his tea as he finished.

 

"He is not emperor yet, I'm afraid. He's a simple court mage playing general." She said, in a snarky way. She smiled cheerfully "Forgive my rudeness, I tend to talk without thinking."

 

Gracchus raised his eyebrows, arching them in a quizzical manner. "No, it's quite alright. I had just heard you two were fairly close, so that reaction was...unexpected, to say the least. As for him being a mere Court Mage, while this is momentarily true, the wedding has been publicly announced, and to rescind it would open the Empress up to further gossip and humiliation, which would be worst given the previous rumors of her sexual orientation."

 

"I'm quite sure that we both know the validity of those "rumours", my dear general. My loyalty is to her majesties well-being before Lord Snow-Striders ego. Truth be told, our personal relationship has been...quite strained recently, though doubt he notices."

 

"I am sad to hear. Losing a friendship is always a difficult ordeal. Where is he now, if I may ask?" Gracchus brought his tea up to his mouth and drank slowly, letting the aroma replace that of the lingering smoke.

 

"Well, the man should have thought about the consequences of cutting off Tullius's head. Still can't believe he was a traitor" She took a sip from her tea, "Dealing with unrest among the counties. He assisted general...Drogoth in clearing a city of skooma dealers."

 

"Bravil, I believe. I'm glad to hear General Drogoth assisted him, as I have heard good things about our Orcish friend. What of you, Colonel Quentas, what works draw your interest these days?" Gracchus had finished his tea, and set the cup and saucer aside.

 

"Digging up dirt on the noble families. Never know when you can use it."

 

"The world of politics and spying is too underhanded for me. What use would this information be? And is there not another endeavor that would be a better use of your time, than spying on our allies?" Gracchus frowned, as he didn't take kindly to someone's whose time was ill spent on the brink of war.

 

"Blackmail. Dales has a...very heated relationship with the nobility. The count in lewaijain has already challenged her rule. Pile dirt on them, it shuts them up and saves Dales face, while keeping then quiet."

 

"I would think reasoning with them would work just as well, but I am not fluent in politics as you seem to be. Anything you are working on that involves the upcoming conflict?"

 

"You don't know. Nobles are like greedy pigs, no matter how much trash you give them, they want more. More power. And yes, I am."

 

"I don't think all of them are that way. I have met several, Count Bathory and Count Brutus among them, who seem to want nothing more than to rule peaceful counties. Care to elaborate on what are you working on, war wise?"

 

"One is mad, the other one stays in the shadows. Better then the rest aye." She finished her tea, "Doing my best to to purge dominion agents, along with...sniffing out the loyal from the unloyal officers. Its dark and dirty work, but someone has to do it."

 

"It seems you do indeed have your hands full. What news of Cheydinhal? Is the count still acting out?"

 

"Yes. My opinion, he's acting out on a spoiled Tantrum. Shouldn't being count be enough for the man?"

 

"As you said earlier, politicians seem to always want more, whether that be more power, more money, or more prestige," Gracchus looked down for a moment, trying to suppress any sort of anger before he spoke. "What news do you have about Lorgar, if any? You seem to be the one to ask, and I have not heard any rumor of his whereabouts."

 

That caused her to laugh, "Grim-Maw? Do you really think I would know were that enigmatic ghost is? If he wants to disappear from view, he's the kind that can with ease. What, you want to meet him? I fear you might end up like the soldiers he cut down on his way out." 

 

"No, but seeing as he is a very high risk individual, I thought I should know any information there was to know. Iassumed the person to ask would be the Spymaster, given your contacts and such. Any information I should know, while you're here?"

 

She simply said, "Well, since I like you Mister Ceno, you should known General Lithin is very unhappy with your promotion, along with some very angry noblemen."

 

Mr. Ceno? A bit formal for a lower ranking officer, and a noble at that...never mind, best not to pick fights, Gracchus thought as he listened to the Spymaster talk.

"Lithin? Of the 12th Legion? Why does he have a problem? I've met the man only a handful of times, and never for more than a few minutes, in a crowd at that. Nobles as well? Seems I need to reevaluate just how likable I thought I was," Gracchus added the last part with a laugh, as he cared little about what the nobility thought.

 

"Lithin comes from a noble family, south of the Imperial City. As you can tell by looking at his pathetic military record, he got the position simply because of his family connections. Besides him wanting the postion, very much disliking Dales, he looks down upon you for your..." She tried to word it carefully, Lilly didn't want to offend, "Commoner roots." 

 

"I will have to see about changing that in a week when the generals come to meet with me. Whether he likes me or not doesn't change the fact I am his superior, or at least equal if Skjari finds me lacking the requirements. We must all put our petty differences aside to beat the Thalmor, and not just Imperials, but every race as well. Hopefully he, and anyone else who thinks poorly of Dales, will be able to see that. If not, there are plenty of eager legates waiting for a promotion."

 

"I'm under orders to silence anyone who publicly talks beyond insulting things about her majesty, one way or the another. Lithin, I think, doesn't like taking orders from a young women like her majesty. Just between you and me, dont expect him to hold the position long. I utterly hate backwater people like that." 

 

"Does he not have the right to talk as he wishes? Are we so backwards, so tyrannical that we limit a man ability to speak freely? I understand that in his line of work, he is a looked up to figure by his men, and his opinions should be private, but have you not consider the backlash if every one of Dales' detractors dies? Imagine if people found out, that this Empress is no more than bullying authoritarian who murders those who slander her. That would make us no better than the Thalmor and their purges. Ulfric Stormcloak was defamed, labelled a racist and murderer, but those people were not hunted down like animals. The Battle-Borns were left in peace, for the most part, and many others. I will deal with Lithin, and anyone else that would smear Dales, before any drastic action is taken. Let us not be so quick to abandon our sensibility, Colonel Quentas," Gracchus said enthusiastically, beseeching the Spymaster, face stern and fists clenched.

 

"Were not different then them in many ways." She said, putting on a humorless smile, "But fear not, as in silenced, I simply meet a stern talking too. Sending hitmen would be as you said, backwater, and quite frankly, a complete waste of resources. It's fine to state your opinions, but it's quite different to publicly insult in a very disgusting manner, your liege-lady, especially if your a figure of authority. General Lithin is just that, a figure of authority, to the military, and to the nobility. Words can harm someone, as much as swords and arrows."

 

"I am glad to see that you aren't as hasty as I suspected. We cannot do with silencing all those that oppose us, but must work to negotiate and understand the differing viewpoints. In a less cruel world, we could do the same with the Thalmor, but an entity so bent on our destruction just cannot be reasoned with."

 

"I agree to an extent. Always use your words first. However, that's not always an option. Violence is sometimes the only answer. My duty is to her majesty Dales first and foremost, i'll always look after her well-being before politics, and other trivial matters."

 

"Exactly. I believe in country before all, I assure you. I hope I haven't talked to much, Colonel. Do you have any questions for me?" Gracchus asked, his enthusiasm considerably cooled off.

 

"Ah, I do. If you dont mind, of course." The same cheerful smile was back, "I was wondering what your honest opinion, on her majesty. I've been asking around of late, especially higher ups. And of course, how is your wife?"

 

"Her majesty means well, no doubt, and she has improved much of late, but I think she could do with the stern guidance of Lord Snow-Strider, you, and myself. She is just a young woman, after all. As for my wife, she is doing well, although I don't think she likes my new job. I'm not sure I like it much either, at times, but so is life. The things you just do and the things you wish you could do do not always coincide."

 

"I know what you mean I really do." She starred beyond Gracchus, "Before this entire fiasco, I was considering just settling down far away in the country side of Chorrol, Buy a homestead, get away from the court, politics, and all that espionage. Just me, and my younger cousin Helen, were we could pursue our passion of gardening." A small smile appeared on her lips, "However, our mutal friend Tullius approached me and offered me the position of Spymaster. I never could say no to him, helped him considerably when he was in hiding and building up his mercenary unit. I, now and at the time, had a large spy network centered in Cyrodili, and the former imperial controlled holds of Skyrim. My intel is what kept him afloat, along with the funds I provided him. When he asked if I wanted the job, I had to say yes." 

 

"It did seem strangely well off when he joined our forces. I only wish he had joined sooner, truth be told. But, the tables turned in our favor, so there is little use in thinking about what might have been."

 

"There never is. Just gnaws into you, until it's too late."

"

Is there anything else you wanted to ask? I hope I haven't kept you too long with an old men's yammering."

 

"Oh your being no bother, I very much enjoy having long coversations just for the heck of it on the occasion. Hmmmm, have you ever thought of having children, General?"

 

"I am glad I haven't been too boring. As for children, not for a while, no. I'm far too old, and my job is far too strenuous. I'm afraid my wife is too old as well. Why do you ask?"

 

"Oh just popped into my head.". She laughed "That's practically all my little cousin talks about, asking when can she have a baby. Its quite adorable."

 

"I would urge her not to rush. She has her whole life ahead of her, and there will be plenty of time for rearing a child. What about you, Colonel? Are you married or currently attached?" Gracchus asked, leaning back in his chair in a relaxed manner.

 

"Well, I'm In an on and off relationship, I was engaged once though, a very long time ago."

 

"I am sorry to hear that it didn't work out. Relationships can be so messy at times, and usually someone is bound to get hurt."

 

"I was only a teen at the time. I was wracked with insecurities, and really didn't want to wed. But my mother insisted. He wasn't a noble, but his father was so rich, he might as well been. He was thirty years older then me, despite this he was very kind. He caught me crying, and later called the thing offâ€

 

“That was very noble of him. Where is your family from, exactly? I'm afraid my nobility knowledge isn't quite up to standardâ€

 

"Chorrol, perhaps you've meet my sister, Millnerius?"

 

"Ah yes, Chorrol. I presume it's been quiet there? I have my heard any news latley. As for your sister, I attended her wedding, actually. On Lorgar's invitation, of course."

 

"It has. Milly was beautiful in her wedding dress. Never seen as happy as she was on her wedding. It was a shame, I watched from a distance. Even worse, my mother saw fit to disown poor Milly."

 

"That is sad. What happened to her, if I may ask. She stayed at my wife's inn, but Lorgar took her away. She was pregnant, supposedly."

 

"She was on a ship heading to Solsthiem. Lord Snow Strider most likey wanted her caught. I delayed things long enough for her to get clear." She laughed, "I hope you don't repeat that."

 

"I assume you questioned her about Lorgar's whereabouts first? Because if not, I can't help but feel you must. He's an extremely dangerous man, and needs to be found and brought to justice before he does something drastic."

 

"Milly was unaware of Lorgar's location. She wouldn't have told me anyway's, she loves that man. And I wasn't going to force her to tell, she's pregnant with my niece or nephew, and my sister after all."

 

"I don't think her being related to you is a free pass. This man undoubtedly knows many of our secrets, and if the Thalmor find him be we do they will extract them, of that I have no doubt. And like you said, she loves him, and I would think she would withold information from you if it meant saving her husband.

 

"Are you suggesting I "extract" information from my pregnant sister?" Her expression didn't change but her first curled into a ball. She contuined 
 

"Lorgar is invisible, shrouded by enigma. He could pass as an entirely different person if he wished, I highly doubt the dominion would find him. There is however, a chance he went to them."

 

Gracchus' mouth fell open, but he closed it rather quickly. "He...went to the Dominion? It shouldn't be such a shock, after all Tullius fell off the wagon in the end, but still, it comes as such a shock. Why do you believe this to be true?"

 

"He manipulated Tullius to commit treason, did he not? He sat on the knowledge of Homunal being an assassin? And he nearly murdered General Baldur Red-Snow."

 

"I wouldn't say nearly murdered, but yes I heard of the events in Solitude. Whatever happened to him, do you really believe it is safe for Milly, and the baby, to have any association with him? Surely you cannot think he is a good man, not now, not after what he has done. Do you really want him to have influence over Milly and her child?"

 

"Of course not, however, Milly left by herself. For all of his flaws, he did go back for her, and she seemed to truly love him .Its her life, and her choice. . Most likely he doesn't want her involved in his work."

 

"I see there is no reasoning with you then. Let your sister stay in the ashen tundra of Solsetheim, away from those who love and cherish her, under the guidance of a madman. He assaulted my wife, murdered your men, and now works for the bane of man's existence. And yet you stick up for him continually. I was his friend too, you know. Some things, though, are unacceptable, and Lorgar has done more than enough to qualify as our enemy."

 

"My mother just disowned her, stripped her from the family records , she isn't even a Quentas in my families eyes anymore. She's dead to the family. Do you know what it's like when your torn asunder in a noble family? They stop viewing you as a person, and ignore you entirely. They wont even acknowledge your presence, to others, and infront of you.  I'm simply stating the facts. Shadows watch Lorgar as well."

 

She gave him cold eyes, 

"I hate the man, as much as anyone. He took my sister away from me. He killed my men. However,things would have been very bad for Milly here if she stayed. She would have been disowned anyway's to save face for the family, humiliated infront of the entire court, and would most likely have to go into exile, away from the public eye entirely. Don't get me wrong,  if I saw him right now, I would...try to kill him. However, I agree taking Milly away was the best option at the time."

 

"But to Solsethiem? Have you even been to the place? Beautiful at times, but dangerous, fatally so, and to raise a child there would be unimaginable. High Rock, Skyrim, Hammerfell are all more suitable places, and I would think much preferred by her as well. Or let her stay with Catia and I, as those two got along quite well it seemed."

 

“No, but I researched it extensively. I know the dangers. However, my...source tells me, Lorgar intends for her to be taken up north, to the Skaal village, he has family there, and is infact a former member. The Skaal people are known for there hospitality, and wouldn't leave the pregnant wife of one of there own in the frozen cold. She'll be well taken care of. I'm sure your wife is a wonderful women, however, the imperial city, and all the places you mentioned, have a high chance of becoming war zones soon, while Solsthsiem is off the radar." 

 

"My plans do not call for the Imperial City to be taken, and I would think that Skyrim or High Rock would be suitable as well, but I concede that it is none of my business, as she isn't my family. I wish you both the best of luck."

 

"I highly doubt the sacking of the. Imperial city in the last war, was planned. My dear general Ceno. And besides, she isn't technically my family." She looked at the minute, before suddenly standing up "Oh I'm sorry, its about time I left. I have to pick up my cousin from school before heading back to work. It was very nice chanting with you." She offered him her hand with a smile

 

Gracchus rose, and smiled faintly, but it was not as sincere as before. "It was a pleasure, Colonel Quentas. Again, I wish you and your sister the best of luck. And your cousin and her shooting as well."

 

Lilly gave Ceno a warm smile, while shaking his hand, "If I offended you in anyway, I offer my humblest apologizes. Haven’t gotten much sleep recently, so I tend to talk without thinking"

 

Quite alright," Gracchus said, shaking her hand firmly, "with our jobs, sleep is not a luxury we can afford."

 

"By the way, Tullius used to keep a herbal mix in his bottom drawer, the one to the right. Personally made by me. Will give you a jolt of energy if you think you about to pass out, feel free to have some." She said, warmly, 

 

"Thank you, I will be sure to use it if the need arises. Good day, Colonel Quentas."

She gave him a sharp salute, before waving her hand as she left through the room.

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Gracchus Ceno

Imperial Palace

Morning

 

 

The letter that had been delivered several hours ago lay on the edge of Gracchus' desk, which was large and horseshoe shaped so as to maximize the space on which he could spread out maps, charts, or piles of scrolls and books and parchment. If that letter had been able to see, it would have watched as visitors came and went, several pots of tea were brewed, a bottle of whiskey opened and partially consumed, five trips to the bathroom, three visits to the window for fresh air, and twenty rehearsal attempts at explaining to his wife, why Gracchus did not make it to dinner for the fifth time this week.

 

The letter would have felt the warmth from the ever raging fire, smelled the fresh tea leaves and strong whiskey, as well as the salted meat the general ate for his meager lunch. Curse words and insults and praises would have entered its ear, all having to do with the work the interim High General slaved over. It would have listened in on conversations with the visitors, from a few congratulatory nobles, legates stationed in the surrounding area, along with merchants and tradesmen and ship builders, all who passed beneath the doorway, without the slightest acknowledgement of the poor, half forgotten letter.

 

Of course, letters can't see, but they can wait, and so the letter sat, perched on the edge of both the desk and the memory of Gracchus, until chance finally brought the two together. It so happened that the candle was burnt out, almost completely so, and as Gracchus was on his way to leave, he decided to change it now instead of in the morning. This letter also happened to be right above the drawer where the spare candles were stored, and so Gracchus picked it up and quickly opened it, lighting the new flame with a snap of his fingers.

 

Who did the courier say this was from? Bah, I can't remember. Too many names have run through my head today to recollect any one of them specifically, Gracchus thought, tearing at the seal with the point of his index finger.

 

Unfolding it, he was shocked to read that it was from Eduard Laenius, his friend and former comrade. It was brief, but contained more conversation than the friends had shared since their events in Skyrim.

 

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.

 

Gracchus smiled as he read the letter, remembering the brief but lasting friendship the pair had formed the previous year. He hardly knew the man, he realized, but yet they had been fast friends, mostly in part to Eduard's willingness to assist Gracchus in the planning of the siege, and the events after it. They trusted each other, even if they weren't as well acquainted as one expected friends to be. Grabbing his quill and ink for the final time tonight, the High General began jotting down his reply.

 

Dear Eduard,

 

You are right when you say it has been too long. I do appreciate your writing of this letter, though, as it gives us a chance to talk again.

 

Cyrodiil is restless, as usual, but that is to be expected. I have kept my hand out of the troll's maw that is politics, but somehow I got roped into the High Generalship. I mustn't complain, as it gives me renewed purpose, but it comes at the cost of losing Tullius. He was convicted of inciting rebellion, along with a former general, and was executed. It seems many of our former colleagues have had rough goes of it. Lorgar is missing, branded a traitor, while Marius was killed as well, along with Pilus in the war. I should hope you have faired better, and it sounds like you have.

 

Still, I would like to extend to you an offer to rejoin the legion, with a promotion no less. Your hasty retreat after the incident left you without the promotion you deserve, and that is a fact I will not have you deny. I need someone I trust to help me, advise me, in the upcoming conflict. You would of course not be limited to the command tent once war arrives, and there will be plenty of opportunities to dirty your hands. If you would accept, my wife and I will welcome you into our home with open arms, until you find a place of your own.

 

Speaking of my wife, I thank you for the generous gift, which turned out quite well. I have since recommend Iver to all those that I know, and he has many a high ranking customer. Such should be the case for one who posses great skill as he does.

 

Again, you writing has generally improved my temperament, and your presence would do so even more. With friends dropping like flies these days, it would do us both well to stick together. Nevertheless, I would not pressure you into a decision.

 

Having rambled on enough,

 

Gracchus Ceno

 

The letter was finished just in time too, as the ink pot that sat upon the horseshoe desk was as empty as a beggar's coffer. Gracchus folded the letter in thirds, then stamped his seal in wax to close the parchment. Dowsing the fire, he grabbed his cape and latched it underneath the golden clamps, then hurried as quickly as he could down the stairs. On his way out of the city, he stopped and found the courier who had delivered Eduard's letter, with instructions to give Gracchus' letter to Eduard, since he knew of his whereabouts.

 

After that, it was a quick ride through the streets, across the bridge, and out onto the countryside to his homestead. He pushed Lil Ceno as hard as he ever had, deciding he would not miss dinner for the sixth night in a row. There was something about the letter, maybe it was discussing all those that had passed or been lost, that renewed Gracchus' drive to make every day count, every moment. And so he was determined to make it to supper, as he knew not how many he had left.

 

The horse panted as it's hooves clobbed along the stone road, the wind whipping its mane all about in a mess of hair. The sun was just beginning to set, the fading sunlight sending cascades of orange onto the clouds like a haphazard painter, throwing paint on his canvas in a messy, yet beautiful way.

 

The stable boy, seeing Gracchus ride up from afar, was waiting for the general as he dismounted, handing off the reins and trusting the boy to take care of his oldest companion. He took off his cape in the foyer, hanging it upon a hook on the wall, while the butler alerted his wife to his arrival.

 

"Fancy seeing you here before midnight," Catia said sarcastically as Gracchus entered, who beamed at his wife. "And who might you be, some sort of soldier?" she said in heavily sarcastic tones.

 

"A soldier come to pillage and raid the palace of a queen," Gracchus replied, grabbing his wife and pulling her into a long embrace.

 

"Would this soldier do me the honor of dining with me before he ravages me?" Catia said slyly after they broke apart, staring at Gracchus' lips as if to say more, yet backing away to the dining room like a true tease.

 

"The honor, is all mine, my queen," Gracchus said, following her to the dining room, where smells of cooked meats and fruit pies lingered long after the couple had finished their meal and went to enjoy another form of dessert.

 

**

 

Gracchus rose early, as he had to do if he was to arrive on time at the palace. Much to his surprise, his wife, and his mother were already awake. Catia sat in front of the fireplace, a book by Albecias Plebo in hand, although he wasn't quite sure which one. Lyra Ceno, his mom, was wrapped up in a shawl and closer to the fireplace, and she was crocheting a scarf.

 

"You're both up early," Gracchus said as he scarfed down a plate of eggs and pork sausage.

 

"I have a lot on my plate for today, thank you very much. I need to swing by the Fox, before I go look at some rugs at Erita's store. And our wine supply is low, so that needs to be refreshed. I think Mr. Carter will accompany me, so we can tackle the tasks head on," Catia said, never looking up from her book, just as the aforementioned butler walked in.

 

"Oh dear, when did you come in? I must've been asleep...what was I doing? Oh yes, my scarf. How do you like it, Gracchus?" his mother asked, holding up a mangled piece of cloth. Lyra had been going blind for some time, so it was no shock that her scarf came out poorly. Along with her blindness, she was having lapses in her memory. Catia had been good to her, along with the maids, so she had little stress or worries.

 

"Beautiful mom. I have to go back to work today, so I'll see the both tonight," Gracchus replied, as his mother began crocheting again, and Mr. Carter walked in.

 

"M'lord, your horse is saddled and ready when you are," Mr. Carter said in his deep voice.

 

Gracchus had hired him once they moved out here, as it warranted with his title of Lord General. Mr. Carter, a Breton, had once been a butler in the palace, but he had retired, looking for something a little calmer. Gracchus scooped him up soon after, along with a stable boy, a cook, a kitchen maid and a house maid. Their house was large enough to warrant a staff, but not so large that they had to hire more than one maid to clean the house. Catia liked the servants, even if being called "M'lady" was a strange change for her.

 

"Thank you, Mr. Carter," Gracchus said as he rose, kissing his wife before going out to repeat yesterday's events, albeit with a new sense of drive and purpose. He even smiled as he left, and managed to enjoy the view of the rising sun as he rode towards the gleaming White-Gold.

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Skjari 

Outskirts of Leyawiin

Noon

 

The trip south had been mostly quiet since they set out from Bravil. The most exciting that had happened was that Maximus and Bormir had gotten into a brief fistfight over one of their arguments and that they were ambushed by some bandits, though after Karsh had left to carry out his orders, Skjari had begun to cast a detection spell with regular intervals. So when over a dozen bandits, most ill-equipped except for a few wielding elven weaponry, charged against them, they group of mages had their spell already charged and a few atronachs and elemental bolts later only corpses remained of the ambushing bandits. The rest of the trip was uneventful.

The day after the ambush the walls of the port city of Leyawiin appeared in the distance. When they got closer to the walls the sound of people inside the city didn't give the feeling of trade that masses of people haggling in the market would give but instead the air was filled dread and strife. Guessing from the nature of the shouting and screaming of masses, another riot was in effect in the city. Skjari dismounted his horse and the other mages did the same. "Bormir you get the horses to the stable and then catch up with us." 

 

"Yes, sir." Bormir didn't sound that eager about that task and he looked both rather disappointed and even annoyed. 

 

Skjari didn't pay any attention to Bormir's disappointed response and strode quickly through the gates and into the city towards the source of the sound of an angered mob. Walking past the chapel and further south till he reached a large square. Two bodies of people were gathered at either side of the square. The one Skjari's left consisted mostly of humans but also a few argonians. The other side was purely khajiit, while the group of khajiit was smaller than the other group, their shouts were equally as loud and vicious. Both groups stood less than a dozen yards apart, both shouting and flailing with their arms in a threatening manner. Both trying to insult and provoke the other but none daring to throw the first rock or punch. Looking a bit more carefully around Skjari could see that no guard were in sight, the rioting crowds were left to their bickering and non one really attempting to stop it. 

After a moment of assessing the situation Skjari charged a spell and released. A large roaring dragon made up flame appeared where he stood, the dragon standing on two legs and wings stretched out and the head roaring down on the masses. It was little more than a light show but the dragon was imposing nonetheless. The crowd silenced and looked horrified at the large dragon that had now gone silent starred at them with wing outstretched. "Disperse, disperse! Go back to you homes. This riot is over for now." Skjari shouted at the masses with magically enhanced voice so all could hear. A few on both sides started to protest but the dragon drenched their voices in another roar. This time people got the message and started to leave, some more eagerly than others while some were also quite reluctant to leaving and only left by slowly backing away from the dragon. 

Skjari waited and slowly walked towards the center of the square with the dragon and mages in tow. There he waited till the square had emptied and things had quieted down. The fiery dragon dispersed into the air and Skjari looked around again to see if the guards may finally decide to show their faces. The square remained empty for several moments, then finally, the door to an orange, two-story building slowly opened, and a black bearded man bearing the golden horse emblem of Leyawiin on his coat stepped outside. The man wore a sword at his belt and chain-mail under his coat. He was obviously a guard. The guard looked off in the direction the most Khajiit crowd had retreated in, then made his way towards Skjari.

 

"Do you often leave your duties to others?" Skjari said to the guard as soon as he came close enough. 

 

"N-no sir." the guard stammered. Clearly he'd seen the apparation of the dragon, and was still a little shaken up.
"But there's hardly much I can do when fights like that one break out."

 

"True, but luckily a fight hadn't fully started yet and if a fight had started, it might have taken a real dragon appearing to separate them. But it's your job that neither gets close enough to start a fight." 

 

"Well," the guard stammered, "I uhh... I couldn't do much to stop them sir. I mean not all by my lonesome anyway. I tried shouting but that didn't a bit 'o good."

 

"And where's your colleagues? Taking a break in the tavern?" 

 

"Some might be." the guard admitted, "We ain't got numbers we used t'have. And most of 'em do their guard'n at the other side'a town when these things start up, ya follow me?"

 

"Bloody cowards." Better send a letter to Grommash and order some troops down here to get these guards to grow a spine. "I'll try to deal with your friends later. For now; do you know what started this riot?" 

 

"If you mean, 'who' started it, then no, I don't. I only arrived after the shouting started. But just seein' the sorts involved, and going by the other fights like it, I got no doubt that it was either them Khajiit, or a some of the Khajiit haters. Plenty of both 'round here, and they been starting all sorts of riots and such. They usually don't end well unless guards show up. This time, I was alone, and a bunch o' those men threw stones at me when I tried to stop 'em. Usually it ain't like that. Usually a few of us show up and stop things from gettin' bad."

 

"Well I'm here from the Imperial City to try to put an end to these riots. Any suggestion on where to start on that? And also, is the count in the castle? I want to speak with him as well."

 

"The Imperial City ,eh? Well I can tell you that the Count oughta be up in the castle. He'd be holding court right now. There's no shortage of folks who've got things they want him to hear. As for the riots, I can't say much. Always someone different that's startin' 'em. Usually it's Khajiit, they got some o' those extremist types. The New Renjia... or Renrija, I don't know how to say it, but the second word's Krin. They got a lot of people riled up. And between you'n me, the other folks ain't always much better. Most are scared with the Dominion so close, and they ain't fans of the Khajiit because of it."

 

"Well great. I'm off to the castle then. And you go get your friends and make sure they don't try to riot again." He then turned to his mages who were standing and talking lowly behind him, a few were also toying with a little spell in the hand like a small fireball. "Lets go." He ordered them and started walking east towards the towering castle in the distance. After passing a few streets he cam to a large and very, very tall bridge, crossing the river of the Niben to the big and tall island in the middle where the keep and the castle stood with high walls and towers.

As Skjari walked across he couldn't help but to look down, a few of his mages did the same and some of them almost immediately got dizzy from the height. Skjari was used to the tallest peaks in Skyrim, so the height didn't bother him. The bridge itself had massive arch tall and wide enough for even some of largest ships to be able to pass through. Looking to the north he could see another such massive stonework that bridge the deep ravine between the town and the castle. 

Once the through the gates of the the walls on the other side of the bridge he was greeted by the courtyard that was filled with trees.The green foilage decorated the sides of the roads leading through the courtyard, but the trees and plants were unkept and the courtyard looked more like a forest with roads than a courtyard. Not paying much attention to the guards or the foliage Skjari quickly walked through the courtyard and into the castle. 

The large hall had a high ceiling like most castles, and long green and gold banners of Leyawiin adorned either side, leading to a staircase at the far end, with a doorless archway at the top, most likely leading to the throne room. A pair of guards stood at either side of both the large entrance doors they passed through, and the far archway.

 "Hold it!" Not long after passing through the large doors, they were approached by another guard. He was a plain enough looking middle-aged Imperial who, judging by the bags under his eyes, hadn't had a good night's sleep in a while. "Are you here to see the Count?" he asked, eyeing their weapons all the while.

 

"Yes I am." Skjari answered calmly while resting his left hand the sword's pommel. 

 

The guard nodded, and looked over his shoulder to the far end of the hall at the pair of guards standing beside the archway. One of them briefly peered through it before turning back and shaking his head.
The speaking guard nodded again. "I'm sorry, but Count Douar is currently holding court. You will have to wait your turn if you wish to speak with him."
He eyed Skjari's company again, undoubtedly aware of the fact that they currently outnumbered and were better equipped than the guards in the room. Still, if he was afraid, he hid it well. "And before even that, I would know who you are."

 

"I'm here from the Imperial City to look into these riots. Should I go back and tell everyone the count is too busy entertaining quests rather dealing with the problems of this county?"

 

The guard's frown momentarily tightened. "If you think he's taking social calls right now, you are wrong. Count Douar is discussing the riots with another as we speak."
He composed himself. "Though, if you are here to help, then we should be glad to have you. I can see if the Count will allow you to enter now, considering that your business relates, but I will need to know who you are so I can tell him something other than a "big Nord from the capital" is here to see him."

 

"Official title: court mage. Unofficial duties, as you can guess; keeping this Empire running." 

 

"Court mage?" A look of familiarity crossed the guard's face. "Then you're the one people have been talking about, aren't you? The one that killed that traitor General. I'll be right back, sir."
He turned and headed through the archway. The remaining guards in the room watched Skjari's company uneasily for a couple of minutes before he returned. "Count Douar will see you now."

 

"Good." And Skjari quickly walked passed the guards and into the throne room. 

 

The throne room was much like the first hall in appearance, but with more guards, a balcony, and a throne. From the high ceiling hung many Leyawiin banners, and lit braziers lined the walls. The throne sat up a small flight of stairs, putting it just above the audience hall. Count Inius Douar leaned forward in it. He had to, as otherwise his feet would have only just scuffed the floor below. He appeared young, twenty years at the most, and wore a fine green coat with a golden horse covering much of the front. He was engaged in conversation with a man in a fine, dark red outfit when Skjari arrived, but broke away when he noticed them.

"Tidings, Lord Snow-Strider," he said in a voice that was a bit lower than one would expect, given his appearance, "I hear that you are here on account of the riots."

 

"That I am. And maybe you can give me a more detailed report on the situation?" The wizard said while he approached the throne. 

 

"I can try," said the young Count, "depending on what you already know. I am afraid that my own knowledge, and that of our guards is more limited than we'd like. That is why Treven is here." He motioned to the red-wearing man before him. "I can tell you the basics. That most of the fighting has been between the local Khajiit and our own Nibenese folk, and there is a Khajiit faction fashioning themselves the "New Renrijra Krin" that has been making our attempts at bringing the peace difficult. We think that they are at least in part from across the border. That's not to say that the locals have made it easy. I know for certain that many of the fights have begun thanks to our own citizens, on both sides."

 

"I assure you, my Count," the red-wearing man butt in, "the Khajiit are of sole blame for any hostilities that have arisen. There have been men fighting them yes, but it is always in retaliation, not as an act of-"

 

"Quiet!" barked a tall bald guard standing to the right of the throne. "Do not interrupt the Count when he is addressing another! And I know for a fact that there have been lynchings of unaffiliated Khajiit."

 

Count Douar looked as if he might say something in the man's defense, but seemed to decide against it. "Treven here claims that the Khajiit are to blame, and that he even knows some of those who are members of these New Renrijra Krin. We are not so sure about the first part, but if these Khajiit are in fact a part of this extremist group, then it is certainly a matter of importance."

 

Skjari just crossed his arms at the argumentation. "Well I'm sure there is someone of both sides that is riling each mob up. And I don't care if it's any of it is in retaliation right now, right now I want some stability. I would say we find at least one riot starter of both sides and execute them in public for treason. One of each will make sure we do not appear that biased so that they use the execution to cause another riot." 

 

"Are you mad?" shrieked the man named Treven, "I just told you that none of the men are guilty! Any non-Khajiit that you kill will be murder!"

 

"Stuff it!" the bald guard said, turning to the Count, "Sir, I can have a suitable guilty man arrested for the northman's example within the hour, with your leave of course."

 

Count Douar looked nervous. "I don't know... Father never held public executions when he was the Count."

 

"Sir, with all due respect, this problem was never so prominent under your father." The guard glanced at Skjari, then back to the Count, "I believe that Lord Skjari had the right of it. After all, he came down here for a reason."

 

The count didn't look happy, "Fine," he sighed, finally relenting as he turned to Skjari, "do as you must, and tell any of my guards that they are to assist you as you need."

 

"Murderers!" shouted Treven as he headed from the room. "Don't expect any help from me!"

 

Skjari placed a hand on the man's shoulder to stop him, along with a light paralysis spell to keep him from trying to break lose. "While you don't need to help with the human traitors, you should me catch some Krin cats, if your suspicions are correct. And if you don't help me, those Krin extremists will walk free. Free to cause more mayhem. You don't want that, right?" 

 

Treven's head moved slowly thanks to the spell gripping at him, but it was soon clear that he was shaking it, as if to say "No, he did not want that".

 

Skjari lightened the spell. "So what do you plan to do about them?"

 

"I can show you where they live," he answered slowly, "or any of the guards, if you don't have the time."

 

"I got time." He turned to the count. "Don't have anyone arrested just yet. Have the guards dig up some evidence on who's inciting these riots. Go have them ask around, I'm sure someone knows who yelled the rallying cry for either side. Arrest them then when you're at least quite certain on whom to arrest."

 

"Of course." The Count nodded at the bald guard beside him.

"I'll gather a few men at the barracks and get straight on that." said the guard. "Problem as of late is getting competent men who are willing to actually help."

 

"Short on guards or short on guards with a sense of duty?" Skjari asked before letting go off the red and black clothed man. 

 

"Both." he answered sadly.

 

"I don't know how you handle recruitment here but I would say that you should go out and say you need more guards to help fight these khajiit extremists. Hopefully that might give people an alternative to starting riots against all the khajiit. Though then you might also get a few guards who are a bit too eager to fulfill that duty. Your choice. Just make sure I don't have to pull legionaries from the front to keep order in this city."

 

"I'll see what I can do." the guard answered. "Anything else?"

 

"Not for the moment." He turned to the man in red clothes. "Shall we?" He gestured with his hand to the exit. 

 

The man nodded shakily and headed out. He waited until they were well into the entrance hall before speaking. "So... I have two names. I don't know how important either of them are to the whole group, but I know for certain that they are in it. My friend swears that he heard them speaking of inciting another attack."

 

"Who and where?" Skjari asked calmly and indifferently.

 

"Do'Senji and Sholani. Sholani lives at the southwest end of town. Immediately across from the tavern there. It's the only house that isn't two stories in the area, so you can't miss it. Do'Senji isn't a resident, but he's staying at the Second Sun inn."

 

"Good, I'll look into it. Now go get a drink to calm your nerves. You look like you could use it." He said and quickly turned away from them an and walked out  of the castle before the man could respond. Once they've walked halfway through the courtyard he stopped and turned to his companions. "Once we're over the bridge, Bormir and Maximus will go find this Do'Senji at thee Second Sun. Just keep an eye on him and don't let anyone know you're doing so. The rest of you will follow me and see if we can't scare Sholani."

 

"Yes, sir." They said in unison. 

 

But as they started walking again Bormir said to Maximus. "Just keep your dirty jokes to yourself." 

 

"Don't worry, I got other bad jokes to pester you with." Maximus replied jokingly. 

 

Bormir didn't reply and just rolled his eyes in a sigh. The kept walking till they came to other end of the bridge and Bormir and Maximus split away from the group. Skjari led the rest deeper into the southwestern part of the city. The people seemed to have calmed down from the earlier riot and things looked to be back to normal. But there was still an unspoken tension lingering in the air. Then at some point he felt he had gotten a bit lost and had to ask a guard for direction to the tavern. After walking around a little bit more they finally found the tavern and as the man in red had said, there was the house half as tall as all the others surrounding it, which made it stand out quite a lot. Skjari walked quickly across the street and knocked firmly at the door. 

There was a shuffling sound on the other side, and after a few seconds the door opened, revealing a short, Khajiit with brown fur and long ears. He wore typical enough middle class clothing. "Yes?"

 

"We're here to ask about this New Renrijra Krin extremist group." Skjari said, trying to sound polite. 

 

The Khajiit nodded and opened the door to them. "Come in, then. I welcome any questions."

 

Skjari was a little surprised and had expected a more nervous reaction. But he still kept a calm demeanor as he walked into the house with the other six mages in tow, with the two of them constantly eyeing the cat for any sudden moves. 

 

"Take a seat anywhere." said the Khajiit as he motioned towards several chairs and a couch. The room they were in was fairly sizable, consisting of both a sitting room and a dining area. 

 

"Thank you." Skjari sat down in the middle of the couch so he took up so much space as possible. One of the other mages tried sitting down as well but Skjari immediately gave him a stern look and he quickly walked away from the chair to the others to keep a watch in every direction. Skjari then turned to the khajiit. "What do you know about these terrorists?"

 

"I know what others know." The Khajiit sat in a chair across from him. They are bandits and highwaymen, rioters and smugglers, and they bring mischief where there is peace. The name means something different in a Khajiit's tongue. Some would say it is "The Laugh of the Landless", and others "The Smiling Scum. And of course, they are impossible to find, for they deem it necessary to run."

 

"What do you know about their activity in the city?" Skjari said and then glanced down on the floor and subtly cast a detection spell to see if someone was hiding in the cellar. A plump shape lit up, but it was impossible to see what it really was. The only thing certain that it was a living being of flesh and blood that was of this world. Skjari didn't show anything as he simply looked back at the khajiit. 

 

"Only that they exist here. Their whereabouts and movements are a unknown to me. Any other Khajiit would tell you the same."

 

"Well someone must have been yelling the rallying cry for these riots. Not something you can do without stepping into public." 

 

"If the New Renrijra Krin start their riots with shouting, I know nothing of who is behind that. Perhaps it is other Khajiit? One does not have to be a terrorist to hate the oppressive."

 

"You mind if we look around a little?"

 

"Not at all."

 

Skjari gave the other mages a quick nod and four of them started to slowly go around the house and look. "Do you know anyone by the name Do'Senji?" He then asked.

 

The Khajiit blinked twice. "Do'Senji? He is the one staying at the inn, yes? I have met him, but do not truly know him."

 

"How did you meet?" 

 

He took a moment, as if recounting the meeting. "It was of little importance. I bought a drink in the tavern adjoining the inn. He did the same. A few words were shared, they were not of interest. Just talk of my homeland."

 

Skjari was thinking of what question to ask next when one of the mages shouted out that he had found something. It was a hatch hidden under a large dirty carpet. "Cellar door?" Skjari asked as his eyes trailed from the cat to the hatch in the floor and then back to the cat. 

 

The Khajiit nodded slowly. "It is little used."

 

They remained silent as Edward that discovered the hatch started to climb down the ladder, followed Gildi. "There's a really big damn rat down here. Look's to be domestic though." Edward shouted back up the hatch. 

 

Slightly disappointed that it wasn't a terrorist, Skjari looked slightly curious at the khajiit. "A giant rat?" 

 

The Khajiit smiled and shrugged. "Her name is Jei'Ma. Bucket Child. We found her in a bucket."

 

"A bit of an odd pet. Anyway, what do you think is the general opinion of the Krin among the khajiit in the city?" 

 

"It is mixed. Many respect them, as one respects a soldier who fights for his people, but most believe their methods go too far. Me? I am indifferent."

 

Skjari looked around a little. "What do you work with?" 

 

"I am an assistant to Jeral, the woodworker across town."

 

"Business going slow?" 

 

"Ehhh not as far as I know. But I am just an assistant."

 

Edward came climbing up from the hatch in the floor, empty handed, and walked up to Skjari and whispered into his ear with the cover of a muffle spell before then backing off. Interesting. Skjari thought. "I think that's about it. Got other places to visit." He said as he rose up from the couch. 

 

A hint of surprise crossed the Khajiit's face, but was gone in an instant. "I hope this has helped you. Farewell."

 

Skjari stretched out his hand to the khajiit. "Goodbye. And thank you for being cooperative." 

 

The Khajiit shook it. "May the heat be always on your back."

 

And while in the middle of the handshake, Skjari quickly cast a spell that froze the cat and covered him in a thin icy layer. He chuckled and was about to say something when Edward interrupted. "At least Maximus isn't here to pull any lame ice jokes." 

 

Skjari looked at Edward a bit surprised while also hiding a slight feeling of both disappointment and relief for not getting to tell that lame ice joke that he actually almost just did tell. "Anyway, Edward and Gildi, get this cat to the castle dungeon. If they doubt that he's a terrorist, just show them the note you found." 

 

"Yes, sir." The said in unison and the two mages got to work of trying to lift the cat off the ground while the rest headed outside. 

 

"Lets find this inn." Skjari said briefly before quickly walking away in one direction. After another minute of swift walking they arrived at the right inn, the Second Sun Inn. Skjari quietly told the mages to wait outside and cover any possible escape routes while he walked in. They gave him a nod and spread out. Then Skjari entered the tavern and looked around the room to see if Maximus and Bormir were there. The tavern wasn't much, just a bar counter and half a dozen tables with two or three chairs at each. There were mostly khajiit in the inn but also a few humans. Among them were Bormir and Maximus, sitting at the counter and drinking some kind of ale and talking magic. Skajri sat down besides them and they stopped talking. "So who is it?" Skjari asked calmly. 

 

"The guy sitting in the corner holding a bottle and looks to have passed out from all the booze." Bormir said and then leaned closer. "Though I think he's not even had a drop of alcohol." He whispered. 

 

Skjari left the counter before the innkeeper could offer anything. Walking up to the cat he stopped besides the khajiit, so if he tried to escape he would have to go over the table or through the mage. This cat wore leather armor and a short sword at his side.

 

The Khajiit's whiskers twitched, and his eyes half opened. "Go away." He waved a bottle towards the bar. "You block the warmth from this one's fur."

 

"Are you Do'Senji?" Skjari asked politely. 

 

The Khajiit's eyes opened all the way, and he suddenly looked notably more sober. "The name is unfamiliar. And what of you... Are you Do'Senji?"

 

"Do you know someone by the name Sholani?"

 

"Sholani?" The Khajiit peered with one eye down his bottle. "The name is unfamiliar, but this one thinks-" He broke off his sentence and immediately flung the bottle at Skjari. A moment later, in an impressive display of speed, the Khajiit was over the table and across the room, making for the door. 

 

Skjari managed to duck for the bottle but when he turned around he just managed to catch a glimpse of the khajiit running out the door. Setting off at full speed after the khajiit he summoned two wolf familiars that ran out the door before him. The mages waited outside, blocking the Khajiit's path in most directions, but he somehow managed to close the distance between himself and one of them without being hit. Skjari caught a glimpse of the cat's knee leaving the shocked mage's gut before he took off around a nearby street corner. The wolves were close in tow of the fleeing khajiit as they ran down the same street. Skjari on the other hand had trouble keeping up despite running at full speed. Running around the corner he saw the fleeing khajiit running through the people in the street without much effort or being slowed down by the dismayed citizens that backed away when they saw the khajiit being chased by two spectral wolves and a nord in black robes. While Skjari seemed to fall behind the wolves were actually catching up with the khajiit. And the cat noticed that as well. Soon someone opened a door on the right a few feet in front of the khajiit and the cat seized the opportunity and pushed the imperial that had opened the door and ran inside with wolves closely behind. Skjari however reached the door a bit later and when he came in he saw that it was a bakery with breads covering the shelves along the walls. And he didn't need to cast a clairvoyance spell to know at first where the kahjiit had gone as some of the bread on the counter lay in a mess as if someone had swept across the counter. Jumping over the counter, ignoring the terrified looks on the people that were in the store, and entering the doorway right behind the counter he found himself in a two way corridor and he quickly cast a clairvoyance spell that led him to the right, through the kitchen where the bread was being baked and out an open door that lead to a backyard. The backyard wasn't much except a couple of small alleys leading out and some barrels that were stacked on top of each other. A few had fallen down and broken, quite recently by the looks of it. He found the two wolves sitting in the middle of the yard looking up, Looking up himself he saw a glimpse of a tail disappear up on the roofs. He knew what he needed to do even though he felt reluctant to do it. But he couldn't afford to hesitate and quickly cast the spell to levitate upwards. Though it was more like flinging himself high up the air while aiming to land on the roof as the speed at he went upwards felt more like falling in reverse. He got up a few feet above the roof before he went down and landed unsteadily on the leaning rooftop. It took a few seconds to regain balance and he had to freeze his feet to the roof so he wouldn't slide down. When he was certain he wouldn't fall down he looked around and saw the kahjiit having quite advantage as he was already quite far away. Running in that direction and using ice for certain footing he soon found himself now running as fast as the kahjiit that only had his claws to keep him from falling down. 

The chase went on for a couple of rooftops till the cat ran around a corner and when Skjari came around the corner, he found it to be leading to a dead end and the khajiit was gone. The dead end was simply a somewhat flat roof ending in a big junction that might as well be a plaza. The nearest roof was several yards away the khajiit couldn't have possible jumped there. And even he could have done so, he was no where to be seen among the roofs. Running ahead to the end of the roof he looked around and down at the junction, which was quite filled with it's share of khajiits. This was the more cat populated areas of the city. Skjari searched quickly as he let his eyes travel from one khajiit to another, trying to find him among the crowd. When a long moment had passed without success of spotting him he drew a sigh and lightly shook his head in defeat. He jumped down from the roof and landed safely with a levitation spell. Some people jumped at the appearance of the nord jumping down and landing right besides them but Skjari didn't pay them any attention as just started walking with quick steps towards the castle. The apprentices soon caught up with him using clairvoyance. One of them were about to open his mouth but when Skjari gave him a cold glance he shut the mouth and simply followed. The rest kept quiet as well for the duration of the walk as they passed through the streets and then the large bridge leading to the castle. Count Douar awaited them, along with a retinue of his own guards in the castle courtyard.

"Lord Snow-Strider," the young man greeted him with a nod, "how went the search?"

 

"Well I found one. He should be in the prison by now unless my mages got lost on the way. The other was faster and got away."

 

"One was all you required for what you intend, if I recall correctly."

 

"True. But I never like to let a fish get away. And what are you doing out here? Got tired of sitting on the throne?"

 

"I come to the yard often when court is not in session." replied the Count. "You can't expect me to spend my every hour collecting dust under a roof, can you? Besides, our gardens are far more inviting than that dank, empty hall."

 

"Where's your guard captain? I need to speak with him about the prisoner."

 

"Captain Geldis is in his office. It adjoins the barracks." Count Douar pointed across the courtyard to a large tower. "That would be the barracks."

 

"Thanks." Skajri said and walked across the courtyard to the large tower. Before the door he stopped and turned to his mages. "You wait here for a moment." And he turned again to open the door while the mages waited outside with a few of them starting to chat. Well inside he was greeted by a large room with a few rows of long tables and benches along them. There were a few doors along the sides of the room and two at the far end along with a set of stairs directly on his left that went up along the curved wall of the large tower. There were a couple of guards sitting in at the tables, widely spaces apart and each eating a small meal in solitude. Skjari walked up to the closest guard. "Which way is the captain's office?" 

 

"Tha wuh." the guard said between a mouthful of food. He motioned with a nod of his head at a half open door at the far end of the room, then resumed eating.

 

Skjari didn't bother to thank the guard as he seemed too busy with the food to hear it. He quickly walked down the room to the far and through the half open door without knocking, as it was half open already. The captain's back was turned to Skjari when he entered the room. He was on one knee in the center, armor off, and his other leg was protruding out at an odd angle. It looked like a painful position for any man to be in, but the captain seemed at ease, at least from behind. At the odd sight Skjari stopped for a second before taking a few steps into the room and carefully closing the door behind him. "Are you hurt?" He said, not sounding worried but instead curious. 

 

"No." came the captain's response after a deep breath. He slowly drew his leg in and turned around. "I would've been if you'd walked in on me in that position a couple years ago. Do you stretch?"

 

"Only a little after sword practice. Is that what you're doing?" 

 

The bald captain nodded as he threw on his mail coat, followed by his green tunic bearing the sigil of Leyawiin. "A form of it, yes. Va'sakan. It's good for the muscles. You can learn a lot from the Khajiit if you give them the time of day."

 

"Well I can't say that my time of today spent chasing and catching them has been that teachable. Anyway, have my men come back with a frozen khajiit yet?"

 

The captain nodded again. "They took him to a holding room down the hall."

 

"I'll interrogate him later. First I need to ask if you got any... less safer prisons?" 

 

"Less? Well the actual prison is under the castle. It is considerably less accommodating."

 

"I want something where a breakout attempt with outside help is more likely to occur."

 

The captain looked puzzled. "That's an odd request, but as it happens, we do occasionally throw the rich drunks into some extra cells by the northern docks. Mostly to sober them up. They're never too guarded because they don't really hold any dangerous criminals."

 

"I think that will do. I'll move the terrorist there later today." Skjari turned around and put his hand on the door handle before turning half way back to the guard captain. "By the way, have you found any riot starters yet?" 

 

"Indeed we did. Two men. Their names are Surus and Miles Denian. They're brothers. I had some men take the pair of them down to the prison."

 

"Well you certainly work fast and effective." Skjari opened the door. "Pity you don't always do so with some of the riots." He then walked out and closed it behind him before the captain could respond. But when he got was about to take a few down thee hall he realized that the captain hadn't told him behind which door the prisoner had been brought. Not really eager to head back and ask he started walking down the dining hall while subtly casting a detection spell. Shapes started to glow up behind the walls of some doors, mostly just several shapes in a lying position a couple of feet from the floor. Ignoring the night shift guards he continued down the hall till he saw a shape of someone standing a relaxed manner and with a hand stretched out in front of him, not moving the slightest. Skjari quickly went up to the door, which obviously proved to be locked, but nothing a little spell couldn't handle. Then opened the door and looked inside to find a small bare room with only a worn out table and chair in a corner and with the frozen khajiit standing in the middle, still in the handshaking position he had been frozen in, but this time with a little less ice covering him. Skjari closed the door behind him and locked again with a spell and then applying a muffle spell around the room. He then grabbed the chair and put in front of the khajiit up against the door and sat down. He looked at the kahjiit for a couple of seconds before summoning two dremoras with helmets, one at each side of the khajiit, both of which grabbed the cat's arms before the wizard cast a simple fiery little spell at the cat that slowly started to melt the ice. The process didn't take long. Within half a minute, all of the hard icey casing had melted off and soaked into the shivering Khajiit's brown fur. He slumped, only not falling to his knees because of the two Dremora holding him up by his arms. The cat's teeth chattered, and when he glanced up to see Skjari standing before him, his eyes immediately went back to the floor.

Skjari tilted his head a little at the reaction. "Not even going waste time to swear and curse at me?" 

 

The cat's eyes remained downcast for several moments, then he muttered a curse in ta'agara between his clacking teeth and lifted them back up, meeting with Skjari's. They were yellow, with black slitted pupils, and they betrayed him by so poorly hiding his fear. "Why-... why am I he- here? I said all that I kne-... knew."

 

"Well one of my men found a little note from the Krins saying that they need a bit more information on varying things around the city, along with some help in setting up a few deliveries for weapons. Now the question is only how much time do you wish to waste before telling me all you really know." 

 

"I know nothing. You-... waste your time."

 

Skjari sighed but remained calm. "I got a couple of ideas on how we shall proceed. But I'm going to let you decide which one. Failing to make a choice will result in all ideas being applied. So I'm thinking between having something crawl around your insides, sticking some freezing spikes into you and breaking a few bones."

 

"What?" The cat's scared eyes widened, and the teeth chattered harder. "I swear to you! There is no more to tell! All that is known is in the letter!"

 

"So it's all three then?" 

 

"NO!" The khajiit blinked and tears appeared. "I can think of nothing! What do you want to know?!"

 

"Simple. Names and locations of other Krin members and hideouts. And if your information isn't good enough or proves to be false..."

 

"Do'Senji! He is often found at the Second Sun inn."

 

"I've already spoken with him and he managed to get away. I doubt he's going back to that inn anytime soon." 

 

"He was the one I worked with!" the cat cried, "I know no other names! Only faces!"

 

"There's still hideouts and such. Better come up with something good then." 

 

"There is an empty building near the chapel where we met. It is locked always. Do'Senji carries the key. All else is the inn." The Khajiit looked at Skjari pleadingly. "This is all I know, I swear!"

 

"Anything special about this building? And don't you know any more hideouts? Doesn't have to be in the city."

 

"It is just an old house. I do not know if there is an owner. And I know of no other hideouts. I only work in the city."

 

"Then we got a little bit of a problem here." 

 

"You told me to tell you what I know! I did!"

 

Skjari looked at him thoughtfully for a couple of seconds. "How well would you say that the other members know each other?"

 

"Some know others well. Some know little, and act on their own. Do'Senji knew many."

 

"Does anyone know everyone?"

 

"Doubtful. Do you know what the Renrijira Krin are?"

 

"Criminals and terrorists."

 

"We are liberators." the Khajiit said with a trace of pride. "We rule ourselves, and no one being leads us."

 

"How nice." Skjari's voice dripping with irony. "Anyway..." Skjari got up from the chair moved it to the side and opened the door and left the room quickly, leaving the khajiit still hanging by the dremoras. Closing and locking the door behind him he hurried down the hallway to the captain's office. There he opened the door and walked in without even knocking. "I need some leather armor the khajiit usually use. And a black bag for covering heads." He said as he as soon as the door was closed. 

 

The captain didn't question him. He easily found a usable bag among his own belongings, but he did not personally own a suit of leather armor like the one Skjari wanted. "Try checking the evidence cabinet in the room down the hall." he said. "Take what you need."

 

Taking the bag Skjari hurried down the hall again to the nearest cabinet but when he opened it all it contained was the simple dinnerware that the guards used. Slightly annoyed he closed it and went to the second cabinet. There he found lots of stuff, from daggers to a small pieces of jewelry to the leatehr armor he wanted. Though the boots seemed to be missing. He grabbed the armor and went back to the room where the kahjiit was held. After opening the door he dropped all the armor and the bag in front of the cat and then closed the door. "Put on the armor and then put the bag on your head. And don't try anything. These two will be watching." He gestured to the dremoras. He then opened the door again and walked out from the room, locked the door behind him and walked out the tower where his apprentices waited. "Maximus! Bormir! Get over here!" He shouted and turned to walk into the tower before the mages could respond or react. Sitting down at the bench outside the cat's holding he leaned back against the table. 

 

Maximus and Bormir came walking up to him in a fast pace. "What are we to do, sir?" Bormir said. 

 

"First wait a minute or two. Then you are to carry the khajiit again, not frozen this time though, to a new prison." 

 

Maximus and Bormir looked at each and shrugged. Then just stood there while waiting, not speaking a word. And the expression on their faces suggested that silence was getting a bit awkward for them. But Skjari didn't care and just sat there and waited. When some more time had passed he rose up and went to open the door and looked inside. The Khajiit stood in the center of the room, armored minus boots, and with the bag over his head, which tilted slightly at the sound of the opening door, but he remained silent. 

Skjari waved the two mages in. "Grab him." He ordered and dismissed the daedra back to Oblivion. Maximus and Bormir obeyed and grabbed one of the cat's arms each and led the khajiit as the followed their master. They went out of the guards' barracks and headed north to the docks. First they passed through another couple of walls till they reach the docks. The docks lied outside the castle walls and went along both sides of the island, with houses, workshops and warehouses covering much of the land between the waters of the Niben River. There were no houses or docks at far northern cliffs of the island however but instead a well crafted and big lighthouse that stood tall and mighty above everything else. 

Skjari continued further north till he saw a guard not far from a small crowd of khajiit. Skjari walked up to the guard with his entourage in tow. "Guard. We've caught this Krin terrorist and he's to be taken north to a fort in two days for interrogation. Can you tell me where the docks prison is?" 

 

The guard's brow raised. "You're the one they talked about, aren't you? The one from the capital." He pointed down toward a collection of buildings, beside which several ships were docked. "If you mean the drunk tank. It's down that way. The little wooden building by the warehouse."

 

"Thank you." Skjari then walked down the docks to where the guard had pointed. He found the house with and it wasn't much of a prison. Walking inside he saw that the first room was somewhat small and only had a couple of tables with a few chairs each where a couple of guards sat playing dice. Skjari shouted at the nearby guards. "Put this Krin terrorist in a cell."

 

"Krin terrorist?" the guards didn't move. "His kind belong in the castle dungeon."

 

"It's just temporary. He's to be moved north by ship very soon anyway." 

 

They looked skeptical, but finally one consented and moved the Khajiit to a back room. The sound of a rusty iron barred door closing shut could be heard, and the guard returned shortly after. "So uhh... how long will we be holding the cat?"

 

"A day, maybe two at most. I hope you don't mind if I stay here as well during that time?" 

 

"Two days?" The guards looked a bit nervous. "Umm... You can stay, but there's no bed in here."

 

"Doesn't bother me." Skjari turned to his mages that stood waiting at the door. "And you're dismissed for the time being. But don't leave the docks, don't get drunk and never let your guard down." 

 

"Yes, sir." They said in unison before eagerly leaving the building for some time off. 

 

Skjari himself ignored the guard and walked into a corner where he sat down in a chair and put his feet on the table as he leaned back. There was nothing left but to wait, and ponder on all the things that could go wrong. 

 
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Lucenius, Jon- Laenius House, Dawnstar, Night

 

On yet another frigid night in Dawnstar, Jon sat inside alone, near the fireplace. He was busy reading another batch of information that had just come in, as well as progress reports from his members. It wasn't his favorite way to spend his evening.

 

It's called work for a reason, I suppose.

He was about to begin on the next stack of papers, when he heard a knock at the door. He quickly slid the papers into the chest which was positioned perfectly beside him. He didn't open the door just yet, however. Instead, he just called out from behind the door.

"Name?"

 

"Wraith." A cold and dark voice responded.

 

At this hour? Splendid.

 

He didn't hesitate to open the door, as Lucenius didn't really pose a direct threat to him. Or at least, he had no reason to anyway.

 

"And what brings you back into town?"

 

Wraith was wearing an expensive looking Black Longcoat, along with dark leather gloves and dark leather boots. On his shoulder was a blood red wolf path. His cold purple eyes shone under the darkness, and half his face was practically shrouded in the night. He flashed his trademark smile, filled with arrogance and a hidden smugness,

 

"Is that any way to greet a friend, Jon? Information."

 

Jon just nodded his head, and returned a half smile.

 

"Oh, don't act like you're offended. It's far too cold for me to be pleasant at the door. Besides, most guests announce to the host that they will be coming, no? Come in, I'm eager to know what information you're wanting. Though I have my suspicions."

 

"Oh do you?" Lucienus stepped inside Jon's home, revealing a messy sight. The candle light illuminated Lucienus's face, half of which was blackened and heavily scarred.

 

Jon was very quick to notice the disfigured face his acquaintance was sporting, but he didn't mention it or even acknowledge it for that matter. They would get to that in due time. He motioned for Lucenius to take a seat in the chair across from where Jon had been sitting before his visitor arrived.

 

"I've always got an idea, don't I? Can't get to where I am by just letting people tell you what's going on, can you? Now, where do you want to begin?"

 

"Status on the Imperial Military Legion, Skyrim's Army, and if possible Hammerfall's mercenary force. Troop deployments would be appreciated if possible."

 

"I figured as much. Now, I have some information on all of that. Nothing extremely top secret, of course. I'm not in the military business, persay. However, you're already aware I don't just give out this kind of information. I don't enjoy the thought of what the ramifications could be should the information get into the wrong head. So it's only fair I ask, what exactly do you want it for?"

 

His tone was polite, but stern. It was a well known fact that Jon wasn't one to bend his own rules. Also a well known fact about him was his extreme dislike of being lied to by a supposed ally. He expected the truth out of Lucenius, as that's what he would give him.

 

Lucienus voice, was strict, and unemotional,

 

"Analysis of critical weak points, possible exploitation's, and it's flexibility."

 

"That's a start. But I'm gonna need more. Possible exploitations. To what extent and for what purpose? Blackmail? Or personal use? Oh, and by the way. Your face is quite obviously not in the same condition as last time I saw it. Would that have anything to do with the disturbance in the Imperial City I heard about?"

 

Jon was listening quite intently now. Lucenius was treading on thin ice with his request.

 

"No, a run in with the Daemon of a Thousand Faces, he sunfired my face, haven't bothered to repair it yet.. And the information is for my own personnel use."

 

"Ahh, I see. And personal use, huh? Bloodwolves?"

 

"You could say that."

 

"Please answer in absolutes. Yes or no. Compromising the security of a land isn't something I take lightly."

 

"Yes and no. Some information will be used in counter measures against the invading forces by our unit, we wont be sharing with the Dominion Justicars. Other information, will be used solely by me, and my master, Saladin."  He laughed at Jon's other statement,

 

"Were mercenaries are we not? It's what we do."

 

"I understand your point obviously. But I've never been a mercenary in that sense. I don't often do war, not like you. Not like Eduard. So my priorities differ in that regard. Besides, you brought up Cyrodiil. You're obviously aware that Eduard is still technically in the Imperial Legion, right? You can understand my reluctance to give up any information that may end up compromising his safety. So I'll be taking many of my own countermeasures should I give you the information I have. As for what you are using it for... that sounds legitimate. But Luc... Wraith... come on. You know better than to hide from me. Just explain what you and... Saladin need it for. Otherwise, I'm afraid I won't be able to help you. It's just too risky."

 

Though it seemed like Jon was beginning to close up, he started to gather some journals and books and putting them on his side of the table. He made it very clear that Lucenius wasn't to touch, however.

 

"I'm well aware of that dark brotherhood fil-" He stopped himself for a second, his face becoming extremely pained. As quickly as it came it went, Lucienus's face once again was a cold mask, "Of the assassin. He will be in no danger, as I said, the information will be used to analysis weak points in the allied invasion. Critical strikes. Supply line sabotage. The works. Edaurd is a specialist, I doubt we will run into him if he's deployed."

 

"Careful, Lucenius. I'm aware you don't like his new affiliates. Neither do I. But you will speak respectfully. You're in his house, after all. As for your request... Let me get this perfectly, perfectly straight. You're asking me to give you information to assist in cracking the upcoming allied invasion. An alliance which includes both the places I take residence in. You better have a damn good explanation. We're friends. But don't take that as a free pass. It doesn't mean as much as you might think it does."

 

Jon was obviously a little annoyed by Lucenius' outburst, and offended by his request so far.

 

"You misunderstand the duel meaning of "critical analysis"." He said, in a slightly confusing way, also shooting the same smile as before "Loyalty to the end, after all?"

 

"Alright, fair enough. So now it seems to me as though you want me to give you this information so that you can analyze the information, find the weak points, and help fix them? I could give the same information to Eduard and have him point out any and all flaws within hours. Unless you want to enlighten me to some other possible meaning to critical analysis. And if there is one, I encourage you spill it now. It's only continuing to get later. And I'm a very busy man."

 

"Duel meanings, as I said. There's no befit from Eduard doing it, since he isn't in the Dominion's pay roll. Misdirection, Deception, and suggestion. My unit is, and there our way's of avoiding the Justicars eye from small...transgressions. As good as Eduard is, he doesn't have the...benefits, me and my CO have. Also, Eduard isn't rolling in septims, my bank vault in the Imperial City, is as you know, very fat from the centuries of doing jobs. Unravel the package from the inside, as they say..."

 

"And your CO isn't the strategist Eduard is. As for the money, you're looking at one of the best sources available. Besides, he'd be telling the Legion, Wraith. They've got some coin to their name, especially with the Empress supporting them like she does. The sword cuts both ways, and you know it. I'm all for tricking the enemy and getting paid for it. But you're making this far more risky than I want it to be by keeping all of your secrets. Have I ever divulged sensitive information between us before? The answer is an emphatic no. So, what is with all the hesitation?"

 

"The legion is in turmoil, my master made sure of that. Tullius's death divided the factions even further. Saladin trusts Lord General Ceno to put it back together, and make it stronger then before. Until then, however, we cannot rely on it. Edaurd is also under strict operational guidelines. I and my unit, however, aren't." Lucienus ran his hand through his jet black hair,

 

"A Wraith is the ghostly image of someone who died. That's what I am, an image of the man once known as Lucienus Valerius , for all I i'm concerned, he died in the fires of Castle Liliac. I cant have secrets. What I do have however, are truths. The war is going to be brutal and costly. Pressure will be needed. Me and Saladin intend to apply that pressure from the inside of Valenwood. Cause little by little untilit bursts." 

 

"Evil, versus Armageddon , am I wrong?"

 

"You assume things about Eduard that aren't necessarily true. You may want to get an update on his situation in the future, though he isn't the topic at hand. Neither is what you are, or want to be. Sorry to be so blunt, I'm sure you're used to it with me. The fact of the matter is, I don't deal with war tactics enough to make this call anymore. I will consort with Eduard on the matter when he returns home tomorrow morning. Stay around town, but not in it. We'll talk more tomorrow. Besides, I'm about to have more company."

 

As he said that, both him and Lucenius could hear a knock on the door.

 

"Is that alright with you?"

 

"Fine." Lucienus, opened up his palm, "Remember Jon. Tomorrow, I cannot linger here long." As if consumed in shadow, Lucienus vanished in a cloud of darkness,

 

Theatrics, always with the theatrics.

 

"Alright, you three can come in now. My guest has left."

 

With that, two large Nords and a very battle torn Redguard entered the house. They had much to discuss.

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Theodore Adrard

Northpoint

Midday

 

A bright, yet harshly cold sun shone over the king's entourage, with no clouds at hand to dilute the already meager warmth emitted. An even harsher northern wind blew straight from the north, some would say right off the frozen continent of Atmora. Wherever the bone chilling draft emanated mattered little, as it froze Theodore all the same. His cheeks, red like tomatoes, while his nose stood out like a cherry atop a fruit pie.

 

The plump monarch hunkered under a swath furs, bear and wolf and fox, all in an attempt to stave off the bitter, biting cold. Beside him rode his son Roland, dressed in a similar manner. In front and behind them, around thirty or so guards, some Vette archers while most where simple Adrard swordsmen. The dilapidated stone pathway wound round a curve, until the road straightened out and aimed right at the city of Northpoint.

 

Tall buildings and taller battlements, stone mostly with mixes of spruce and pine, all hidden behind the near impenetrable stone walls. Thick, thicker than any in High Rock, the stone barricades proved to be more than enough defense for most of the city's history. Only through starvation was the city ever taken by an outside force, with the cost always totaling in the thousands of lives, as the walls had never been penetrated by an opposing army.

 

As they neared the main gate, Theo cast ahead a man to alert the guardsmen to raise the portcullis and open the massive doors. Soon the party filed in three abreast, until the final man entered and the gate closed behind them. The city itself was lacking in grandeur, almost nothing like the southern capitals of Camlorn, Daggerfall, and Wayrest, although the later was still suffering from the corsair attacks of recent memory. The streets, frosted over from the cold, were almost as much mud as road, while ragged looking peasants shuffled past, silent as the strange party neared. The nicer, middle class district was somewhat more lively, although on a day like today most citizens had elected to stay inside, as the smell of burning wood and the smoke rising from almost every chimney was a testament to.

 

Still, Northpoint was an attractive strategic point, bordered by the sea on two sides, and it's port a very important hub of trade. And to secure the town, Theodore had to treat with Lord Louise Traven, a man every bit the politician Theo was, although without the drive the now king possessed. To assure that his fiendish sister-in-law didn't send anyone to woo the Lord-of-the-Point, Theo had ordered Lord Estermont to carefully watch the road passing between the main southern highway and Northpoint, one that thankfully ran through Shornhelm territory.

 

So it was that they'd intercepted at least one messenger from Lielle Rolston, offering up Shornhelm land, were it to be captured in the war, in return for Northpoint's fealty. Thinking back, Theodore scoffed at the attempt at negotiations.

 

Foolish woman, your naïveté in such matters will be your downfall. I'm sure Lord Imbel advised you offer more, he was always much shrewder a player than you, but your vanity and bloated ego blocked any chance at that. I wouldn't be surprised if Imbel and Birian didn't send their own couriers, with concessions of their design. Maybe they slipped through, or your advisors aren't as bright as I suspect. They can't be very sharp if they still side with you.

 

Lost in thought, Theodore almost didn't notice their arrival at the castle, which stood imposingly tall above the city, it's curtain wall just as large. Northpoint always impressed him, but he knew the lack of fertile land and the harsh climate prevented it from growing too powerful. Still, it was critical to the war and his rule, something Lord Traven knew quite well. So, for the first time in a long time, Theodore was on the lower end of the political game, being the one who must concede, and not the master asking for concessions. Not that it showed, as his face only had room for the stoic expression that fought off the cold.

 

The group dismounted before the steps, Adrard and Vette men forming a line on either side to block onlookers from the king. Theodore and Roland entered the great hall, the instant warmth from numerous fires beginning to thaw their limbs and bones. Theodore brushed the frost and snot from his mustache, while Roland shook the sleet from his hair. Theodore was dressed in a layered tunic, black and brown, with similar pants. On top of that, he wore a large sleeved wolf fur cloak. Roland's tunic was brighter, blue and gold and hints of red, and he had on a hooded cloak rather than a fur one. Up ahead, the father and son could see a figure seated on the throne, while behind them shuffled in their guards, who followed the king like a pack of loyal dogs, eyeing as a potential threat.

 

Approaching the throne, Theodore could see several other members of the Traven family, and not just the immediate kind. Banners depicting brown elk of house Traven, set on a green background, hung from ceiling to floor. The king stopped before the throne, eyes sparkling with kindness, or so he hoped. His head dipped slightly in a sort of bow, but it would be unbecoming for a king to go any further.

 

"Lord Louise Traven, and family, Lord of Northpoint and keeper of the northern holds, your king requests an audience," Theodore said simply, wanting to get through the pleasantries rather quickly. He was also careful to not say 'commands' or 'orders' an audience, although it was his right to do both, it still wouldn't sit well with Lord Traven.

 

"Well this is something." The Lord of Northpoint said in a deep, firm voice, His eyes moved up and down, studying Theodore and his entourage. "Almost a year ago, my king demanded my audience halfway across High Rock over matters regarding elven warships passing north and east, through my waters. Some weeks ago, my king demanded my audience halfway across High Rock to attend his coronation... and execution, as it would be." Lord Traven glanced over to a young man standing to the side, likely a cousin, given similar traits such as the same dark hair and slender jawline. "Garrus, what was it that you called him the other day?"

 

"King-For-A-Day, sir."

 

That brought a dry, cold chuckle out of Northpoint's lord as he turned back to Theodore. "Yes, that was it. Fitting. Now where was I? Ah, I was telling you things you already knew, wasn't I? Here's something you likely didn't know: three days ago, I received a letter, this one from my queen, requesting my aid. And now, here you stand, my king requesting audience. I must admit, the sudden royal requests are a refreshing change of pace from the demands I'm used to." A slight smile slipped across his lips. "But now I ramble. You're here, and I'm here. You have your audience, your majesty."

 

Theodore didn't smile, he was in no mood to smile, as this man pinched his every last nerve. His face was stoic though, as he couldn't afford to reveal his displeasure. He presumes to mock me, does he? Mustn't let it show, that would only make him that much more insufferable, Theordore thought.

 

"A sensible assessment if I ever heard one," Theodore said plainly, it being his turn to inspect Lord Traven and his entourage, his chin held high as it swiveled with his head to take in the entire family.

 

"We attempted to stop all messengers, but there was never any doubt one would get through. Usurpers have a way getting under people's skin," with that, Theo briefly narrowed his eyes at Lord Traven, but soon his face became stone-like again, "And it is this usurper I come to speak to you about. You know the circumstances of his trial, but yet you abstained from voting, and I can't help but wonder, why that is. Many, many people thought the evidence overwhelmingly in may favor, yet you did not. Have some reservations, do we, Lord Traven?"

 

"Reservations?" The corner of Lord Traven's lip twisted up. "I suppose that would be the word for it, yes. I won't deny it. I have some reservations. That entire week was a mess. Our long-time ruler finally sucumbs to his illness and his heir turns traitor, losing his power along with his head, that's when his allies immediately came together and began preparing for war, as any good allies would. The strange thing though, is that your own military forces were already prepared, and had been for some time. I must say, if you were truly preparing them for a conflict down south, with the witch elves, you could not have had better timing... and I am sure that this is in fact, the case." His face looked stern as he said it, but those last words were laced with sarcasm. "but if you saw this war coming, your use of the term 'usurper' would be rather ironic, would it not?" Lord Traven smiled. "My reservations came solely from caution, my king."

 

"Caution is a virtue we both share, and as such I have had my forces at the peak of preparation, all in anticipation for the next Great War. I of course couldn't have foreseen the treachery by the late Lord Rolston, but it is a fitting use for my army to put down these traitors, who chose to side with those who would kill their own kin, without warrant," Theodore said, his face still as stone like as a statue. "It is bold to insinuate I may be the usurper, Lord Traven, yet you have never been one to shy away from bold words. I respect a man willing to speak his mind, but I would not suggest continuing that line of speech," Theodore's gaze hardened, eyes narrowing with resentment.

 

"Very wise," Lord Traven said, brushing past the threat as if he had not even heard it, "-even when neither of your predecessors made public mention of involvement with the war, you prepared for it. Perhaps you are the most worthy king we've had in some time." Lord Traven's smile faded, and his typical stoic expression returned. He did not appear in any hurry to apologize for his insinuation.

"Regardless of your level of preparedness for this unexpected war you march into, your enemies, this... usurper, clearly feel far more strongly about the circumstances of your rise to power than I, and as you can see, I have made no move to support them." He leaned forward in his throne, "Perhaps I am reading you wrong, but if I am not, I would ask: have I given you cause to believe that I am your enemy?"

 

"Not as f-" a fit of violent coughing overtook Theodore, wracking his whole body with shakes. He pulled out a handkerchief, and continued coughing into it for several seconds, and as it stopped, he quickly shoved the unseemly neckerchief in his pocket. "Seems this blasted weather has brought me down with a cold. As I was saying, however, as far as I know, you have given me no reason to count you among those that seek to destroy me. However, you have not given me many reasons to count you among those that fully accept my rule either. You straddle the fence, it seems, not a poor position but a side must be chosen at one point or another. I am sure I could influence your choice, in some way," Theodore flashed a smile, but it vanished like an assassin in the shadows. Theo stood regally still, his presence that of one who had been king for years rather than weeks.

 

Lord Traven leaned back a bit. "I am glad we can speak of this as it is. You are right, of course. I have made no decision to help either you or your enemies. Why rush it when both sides need me? I am no fool. Our good queen's strategists know that they are less prepared. They would have me flank your forces as you travel to meet her. It's the only way that they can almost guarantee a victory. On the other hand, you cannot safely move on her with me at your back, and my numbers would be a significant bolster to your own. A potentially game changing bolster, even. Even so, I see no reason to throw away the lives of my own men for either of you. At least, not yet. Please do tell me how you believe you can influence me in this."

 

Theodore smiled, and chuckled a bit, before resuming his stone-faced expression. Clearing his throat, and glaring at Lord Traven, he said, "Your one mistake is to believe you are essential to my effort. Crucial, but not essential. Lord Estermont is a perfectly capable leader, and our plans, while benefited by your possible allegiance, would manage well enough. But I refuse to take any chances, even the slightest ones. I know Estermont is looking for a wife, and my dear mother-in-law is more than happy to take your younger sons and nephews as wards, so I think these concessions are reasonable."

 

"Your concessions are a marriage proposal and the opportunity to send my own kin to live in Daggerfell? I admit, my sons could almost surely learn a thing or two from Lady Gaerhart," a brief, knowing smile flashed but was gone in an instant, "but what does my family gain from joining with Estermont? Queen Rolston would make my eldest son her one-day king if I were to only win this war for her. Perhaps the offer would be more tempting if he had seen more than eleven winters. Though I admit, I don't relish in the thought of my son being raised as a figurehead's puppet.

"I could let my daughter squeeze out Lord Estermont's lordlings, but..." Traven's eyes shifted, for the first time, to Roland. "I'm sure she would much prefer to do the same for a prince."

 

While the idea was obviously foreseen by Theodore, as he brought Roland along in the first place, he had not wanted to broach it himself, so as to let Lord Traven find he was the architect of the deal, and thus stroke the northern lord's ego. Sometimes, being a good politician meant not always being the engineer of every idea. Now, Theodore had to work his brand of magic so that the deal was favorable to himself, Estermont, and Traven, which would mean juggling all three men's wishes. His allies were his most important resource, the fist with which to crush rebellion, or a force to seat his son on the throne should Theo die.

 

"A rather splendid proposal, Lord Traven. I dare say that it does offer you many more benefits then sending a boy off to wed a soon to be dead false "queen." A do abhor you calling her that, if you must know. But I will quiet my tonguenon the matter, so we may work out the particulars of this deal. Your daughter's hand is what you offer, but I ask which one, as it is the most pertinent question of the day. I recall you have two, and if I am not mistaken, they are both unaccounted for and of age. Will you present them to me, and of course to my son, Roland, as well?" Theodore turned his stoic gaze over to the large family that grouped around the throne, like fish to the underbelly of a whalers maybe more aptly a shark, as he attempted to pick the daughters out from their brief encounters at some social function in the past.

 

Lord Traven nodded. "Of course." He looked over to a short, brown-haired man standing to the side. "Go and fetch Lyenna and Abelle. Both should be attending their classes at the moment."

 

"Yes, my lord." the young man said before hurrying off.

 

"So," Lord Traven began as he turned back to Theodore, "I know how we gain from this marriage. But what of this war? I have my own people to take care of, and not many of them care one way or another if my daughter one day sits on a throne. A good lord does not remain so in the eyes of his subjects when he makes them fight a war for his own gain alone. I would see more economically aligned concessions besides the marriage. No doubt damages will be expected to be paid when this is over. I would see a portion of that in Northpoint's coffers. A sizable portion, untaxed."

 

"I will see what we can do, Lord Traven. I have Duke Jhared Mon organizing our monetary assets, as well as upgrading contracts with the East Empire Trading Company, and with Henry Leland, who has given us a sizable portion of his fortune in exchange for a title, and a prominent place in Wayrest once we win. Hopefully these men can allow us to stay above the cusp of debt, so that none of our lands must shoulder the burden alone. Also, there will be plenty of profit to be made from the coffers of the rebels, and as I understand "to the victor go the spoils." Does this suit you, or would you like to alter the deal further?" Theodore asked, smiling his grin that some would say held a hint of condescendence.

 

Lord Traven seemed contemplative for a moment, but finally nodded. "Yes, these terms are suitable. Your son will wed my daughter, and Lady Gaerhart will take in my sons and kin as wards. In good faith to my new king, I will trust you to insure that Northpoint is properly compensated for its efforts."

 

"I have another stipulation I think you would like, Lord Traven. Your second daughter, is unwed, yes? Because I know the youngest Estermont boy, a sixteen year old, to also be unwed, and of age. It is not an ideal situation for her to marry, but with the previous proposal of you sister marrying Lord Estermont, she could blossom under both of them. And with war incoming, his prospects could improve drastically. We could have a triple wedding, at the end of the week," Theodore said the last part with enthusiasm, trying to sell the deal.

 

"A triple wedding, yes I like the sound of that." Traven sounded genuine enough. "My younger daughter, Abe-"

He was interrupted by a loud door being shut hard. The little brown-haired servant from earlier came forth with two girls in tow. Both had long hair that matched their father's, and strikingly similar facial features, with green eyes and slender jaws. No one could ever doubt that they were sisters. Or that they were Traven's children for that matter.

"And here they are now." Lord Traven motioned for them to step forward. They did so without a word. The shorter one, who also looked somewhat younger, gave no trace of emotion, but the taller and more shapely of the two wore a genuine looking and friendly smile, the biggest difference between her and her father.

"My daughters. Lyenna and Abella. Beauties, aren't they? Each of them will be more than happy to carry out their duty. My sister however, I will not speak for."

 

Roland jumped ahead of his father to speak, and bowed in front of Lyenna, "As beautiful as the dawn, my lord. If I may introduce myself, I am Prince Roland Adrard, of Camlorn, dearest Lyenna. Our fathers wish us to be married, a notion which I hope suits you, and does not come as too much of a shock."

 

Theodore raised his eyebrows, quite amused at his son's flirtatious and flattery filled greeting. "I hope my son's words do not offend you, Lord Traven, he means well, but is a romantic. Your daughters are very beautiful indeed. I hope they are not too surprised by the sudden proposal."

 

Lyenna's vibrant smile grew even warmer at Roland's flattery, but it was Traven who spoke. "He'll make an interesting king, one day. As for my daughters, I am sure that any surprise or shock will fade."

 

"As I would hope. Abella, your father and I have also pledged you to Lord Estermont's youngest son. I will write to both the Estermont family and my own family, so that we can have the weddings in the coming week," Theodore said, glancing at the younger girl before looking back to her father.

 

Roland cleared his throat and smiled at his soon to be bride, before turning to her father, just as Theodore did. "My lord, I would like to get to know your daughter further, so that we are not total strangers as our wedding comes. May I take her to your library, so that we make speak more personally? Along with a chaperone, of course."

 

Lyenna turned back to glance at her father. She nodded as he met her gaze. "You may." Traven said stoutly, before his eyes went back to Theodore.

 

Roland and Lyenna left, along with what appeared to be a ladies maid to watch over them.

 

"I will talk to my sister tonight, so I would recommend holding off on Lord Estermont for the time being. That said, I think it is obvious enough by now that this alliance is a go. With these terms, you have my support. Which means I am going to war." he looked back to the man Theodore assumed was his cousin. "Garrus, go and speak with Thonir. Tell him the news."

 

"Of course." the man was gone in an instant.

 

Traven looked back to Theodore and smiled slyly. "You will be glad to know that there will be no need to wait for us to prepare. We already have."

 

Theodore raised his eyebrows, but it was more gesture than actual shock. "I am not surprised, as it was to be expected by a man as wise as you. I will still write Estermont, as he will come for his sons marriage whether he marries or not. My family should be here in a few days, as I suggested that they be ready to come at a moments notice, in case Roland was to marry. I had to be prepared for all circumstances, you see, although not procuring your aid was not one that I would accept. I would like to speak to you more privately, perhaps later tonight? So that we can discuss the plans decided upon by the rest of our alliance. Of course, I would like to see my room first, if I may. Allows me to rest a little after our trip and you to talk to your sister, who I assume will need some persuading."

 

"Of course. The road is not a short one." Traven looked again to the servant who'd fetched his daughters. "Escort King Adrard to the Imperial guest quarters. They ought to prove suitable. As for tonight," he said, addressing Theodore, "I agree, a meeting in private would be appropriate."

 

"Thank you, Lord Traven," Theodore said, repeating the slight bow he had made at the beginning of their meeting. "If you will fetch me whenever you deem it apt, I would be most grateful."

 

Theodore then followed the servant, eventually arriving in the quarters designated for him and his son. They were...modest, to say the least. Two rooms, with beds sizable for two people, a latrine area, and a desk. But the overall feel was bland, with narrow, slit-like windows, no tapestries, a shoddy looking rugs.

 

Northpoint was always a little backward when it came to decor and fashion. No matter, it will make no difference, Theodore thought, as he unpacked his bags and laid down for a much needed, and deserved, nap.

 

**

 

It was several hours later, after a brief but well cooked supper. According to Lord Traven, his cooks were the best in High Rock, which Theodore doubted until he tasted the delicious cuisine of orange zest grilled duck, roasted garlic goose, elk steak, and slow cooked venison. He joked how the cooks should've been included in the deals, which elicited a fair amount of laughter, and even Lord Louise Traven chuckled. Theodore was then asked to join his lordship in his drawing room, which the king was happy to oblige.

 

The-Lord-of-the-Point was already waiting for him, seated on a comfortable looking couch, with a glass of wine in hand.

 

"Lord Traven," Theodore greeted, taking a seat opposite his host.

 

"Your majesty." Traven raised his glass in greeting. "I trust you enjoyed your dessert well enough."

 

"The soufflé was superb, and the tarts impeccable. As I said earlier, your cooks are a rare breed indeed. How ever did you find them?" Theodore asked, genuinely interested, as his girth attested to.

 

"Old Muira was my father's cook, and likely his father's as well, old as she is. She trained some of the others, and it wasn't long before we were well-known for our cuisine. It was one of the few bright things in Northpoint. Talented cooks sometimes come here, just wanting to be a part of it. I don't deal with them. That's up to Muira. Though I hear plenty are deemed unworthy and sent packing."

 

"I guess it only takes one to start a chain of excellence. Something I hope to do as well," Theodore said, much more relaxed than he was earlier.

 

"Yes... A chain of excellence. I like the way that you word things, your majesty." He took a sip of wine before setting the glass on a table beside the couch. When he looked at Theodore, his expression was as serious and business-like as ever. "I'm sure by now that you know I am no fool. I was not going to press this in public, as it would have only made things worse between us, but I will not lie to you; I still believe every word and every implication that I made in the throne room... not that I care about any of that. It benefits my lands as much as anyone's, but I must ask, why? Starting a 'chain of excellence' is no small matter. And few who attempt to do so live to be as old as Muira. Why do you want to be king?"

 

"An astute question. My life expectancy is not as long as it would have been had I stayed a simple lord. But, I did not see my brother-in-law to be an adequate replacement for in the death of my father-in-law. He was vain, self-absorbed, a spineless coward. It was his intention to sit out the next war as best he could. I could not let a man like that rule. I realized this many, many years ago, when I got him drunk after his wedding. It wasn't long after I realized I wasn't the only person who felt this way. My mother-in-law, Lord Estermont, my sister Lady Phoebe Ryger, and her husband Lord Jadier Ryger, and now their son Lord Colin Ryger after they passed on, they all agreed with me," Theodore was still relaxed, but his face was calm and stoic.

 

"So it was because you saw our ruler as inadequate. You follow noble motivations for a schemer. Indeed, these are poor times for weak rulers."

 

"Precisely my point. The ends justify the means, I believe. It was not my only motivation however. I felt a duty, to those families that stood with me, who supported my cause from early on. And now, I feel that same duty towards your family, now that we side together. The Lady Gaerhart taught me that, as she was adamant that family comes before everything, am I consider my allies extended family."

 

"That will become very literal between you and I soon enough."

 

"Exactly. Well, I should let you in on our war plan, which we decided on before I left. I will lead a fleet south, with half my men and all of Daggerfall's while Lord Estermont leads half his men, half my men, and the legion men via land to attack Wayrest. We hope to catch them off guard, and surround their force. Meanwhile, you will lead your men, and half of Estermont's to relieve the pressure on Farrun, which I expect to be besieged soon. Is that suitable bough for you, Lord Traven?"

 

"More than suitable. Farrun is strong. Between Estermont's forces and my own, it should not prove difficult to break Rolston forces against it. What of your son? Is he to march with you?"

 

"I am glad you approve. As for my son, I have not decided. I would like for him to accompany me, but that brings the risk-" Theodore broke into coughing again, bringing the handkerchief up to his mouth," Excuse me. As I was saying, it brings the risk we both die in the same battle. But, I ultimately think he will come with me, unless you have some idea I find more appealing."

 

"That you will find more appealing? No, I doubt it. But I would share it anyway. With our recent concessions, your son's life is as valuable to me as one of my own. Farrun will be an important battle, yes. But there is no doubt in its outcome. Unless the city falls before I arrive there, they will have no strategic advantage, no passes and no chance to flank. The same can not be said of the south. I would feel more secure in his well being if he were to march with my own forces."

 

"Indeed, relieving the siege of Farrun and then besieging Jehanna will be a simple, if monotonous maneuver. I may consider your option, Lord Traven, because I agree with the concept of keeping him safe. Of course, at that age, he will no doubt want to join in the fray. If I do ultimately agree, I would trust you to keep him safe. As I said, family above all. No doubt your daughter will find Camlorn a suitable home during the war, and as my wife is pregnant, she can hopefully provide some youthful vigor to the birthing process."

 

"Thank you for your consideration. I can assure you that if he travels with me, his safety will be of the utmost concern. As for my daughter, I have no doubt that she will do well in Camlorn and with your wife. It is not her first experience with either the city or an expectant mother. Nor her second or third for that matter."

 

"Indeed, she attended our Winter Solstice Ball two years ago, I believe. It was our turn to host it. And I'm glad she has experience, as it has been awhile since we had any children. Nineteen years, in fact. It will hopefully be a welcome change."

 

"Edre and I never went more than six. It has been a welcome change every time." Traven stood up, "I much admit, this has been far more enlightening than our public meeting, but the night grows late, and I grow tired. Is there anything more that you would like to discuss before morning?"

 

"No, I found our conversation to be quite helpful indeed. And, I think, I will allow my son to accompany your troops to Farrun and Jehanna. I will talk to my wife, to see what she feels, but I believe she will follow my lead. Now, I will release you, and myself, to get some much needed sleep. Good night, Lord Traven."

 

Lord Traven bowed and wordlessly exited the room, leaving his wine glass behind.

 

Theodore bowed as well, before following the Northpoint lord out the door.

 
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Aerin, Maul

Riften

 

The night's atmosphere was pleasant, a cool but not cold evening that cradled the previously drinking Aerin in its cooling embrace. He waddled home, gripping the sides of the platform hanging high above the canals. Several rounds of mead led to this, because of what was happening with Boldir and Carlotta. Aerin felt he was to blame, for their hiding, and his only release was to drink his guilt away.

 

So he staggered home, getting dirty looks from the few pedestrians and guards. He fumbled with his key, only getting it in the lock after several attempts. Aerin pushed it open, walking towards the candle in the corner so as to illuminate the room. That took three matches, and one burnt finger, but he finally got it lit. Turning around, he headed across the room to the stairs, planning on getting some sleep.

 

A few clumsy creeks of the wooden steps, and he was there. Though when the door opened, there was a lot more waiting for him in the room besides his soft welcoming bed...

 

"Welcome home..." said a low menacing voice from the dark room. Before he could make out a face, a fist came into view first, sending him to sleep a little more effectively than his normal means.

 

***

 

Aerin slowly came awake, his nose's sense of smell coming to terms with his new surroundings more quickly than his eyes. The stench of putrid fruits, gross human excrement, and a whole host of other stink emanated from the central stream of sewage that ran the length of the tunnel Aerin sat in. His sight was coming around, and the fuzziness cleared away and before him stood the large, shadowed form of Maul, Maven Black-Briar's lap dog.

 

"Whatda you wants," Aerin said, slurring his words through fattened lips.

 

Maul was no more pleased to be down here than he was. It smelled just as it should. Like the backside of sload whore's ass. "You know."

 

"I aven't done noffin. You're not worf it anymore," Aerin said, his head slumping over as he threatened to black out again. Along with the punch, and the alcohol, he had hit his head on a table as he fell, and his head had bounced off the hard wooden floors of his house. The dizziness was enough to make him puke, never mind the rank smell of the sewer and his being drunk.

 

Maul uncrossed his arms, then grabbed a handful of Aerin's hair to pull his head back. With Maul's face an inch away from his, he said, "You know who I am. Maven's lapdog. And you, you follow behind that Lioness woman's backside every single day like a good hound. So you and I should be able to understand each other, don't you think? I know better than to think she keeps anything from her favorite toy. So, how long are we going to play this game? Where is this Boldir man, and who tipped him off?"

 

"Boldir? Whose Boldir?" Aerin asked innocently, but his face was pained as Maul pulled on his hair. "You're just a lafdog to a bitchf. I don't know anyfing."

 

"Okay." Maul unceremoniously threw Aerin down, positioning his head near the water so that it hovered just above the putrid disease ridden stream of filth. After placing a boot on his back, he said, "Smell that. Let it linger in your nostrils. I hate this ******* place. Yet every single day nearly, I end up down here because I have to deal with little shits. Like you. Little shits that think they can stand against Maven. Little shits that think they can 'get one over the old bag'. Well, little shit, here's where they all end up. And here's where you'll end up too, unless you tell me what I want to know..."

 

"You're foolish if you think Maven tells you everything, just like Mjoll keeps her secrets. Like I said, I don't know anything," Aerin held his head up as best he could, but the smell of raw sewage was overwhelmingly awful.

 

Maul didn't hesitate to do what he did next. Grabbing Aerin's feet, Maul lifted him up and dumped his head in, holding him there for a few seconds before pulling him out finally. "She tells me what I need to know, I have no thoughts to the contrary. But the Lioness woman isn't her. Tell me. What I. Need. To know. Or you'll die."

 

Aerin thankfully had closer his mouth, and shut his eyes in anticipation, but the feces and garbage rushed up his nostrils, choking him. He came up gasping, only half listening to what Maul was saying.

"I don't...know anything....I don't....know anything." Aerin huffed out, gasping for breath.

 

A loud metallic echo came ringing through the tunnel, and was immediately followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. It wasn't long before a torchlight came around the nearest bend, the carrier turning out to be a man in full Riften guard armor. One of Maul's. He was followed by a figure a half-head taller than him, wearing a full suit of thick iron armor and with long, unkempt hair.

Mjoll's hands were visibly bound in front of her. Her usual weapons nowhere to be found. When the second guard rounded the bend, their whereabouts were clear. A green malachite glass blade reflected the torchlight from his hip, and the handle of a battle axe protruded from over his shoulder.

 

Mjoll's face was difficult to make out down the tunnel, but her anger was more than apparent when she shouted their way. "I'll kill you, you damned dog! Aerin has done nothing!"

 

"I'll be the judge of that. And if anyone's doing any killing, it's going to be me!" He stomped on Aerin's lower spine to make his point.

 

"AHHH!" Aerin cried out, momentarily losing all feeling below the point of impact. His teeth ground together, and his face wrinkled up in pain.

 

At least Mjoll had the sense to not shout out. It would've only driven Maul to do it again, but as the guards brought her closer, her expression became more visible, and her anger was apparent. "What do you want?"

 

"If I have to keep answering questions you already know, it'll be his life. But for now, I'll settle for the location of the big man you were talking to before. Boldir. And who tipped him off. Only time I ever fail to get my man is when there's a weasel about. Where's the weasel, Lioness?"

 

"Weasel? Boldir?" She looked confused. "Will you let Aerin go if I tell you where he is?"

 

He walked away from Aerin and stepped towards her so that he was directly in her face. "Yes. And if he's not there, Aerin dies. Choking on the filth of this stream."

 

"I swear by the nine, Mjoll, you don't tell them a thing!" Aerin said, still restrained and leaned over the sewer canal.

 

Mjoll's anger turned to worry and sadness before Maul's eyes. It was a look he was accustomed to seeing. "I spoke to Boldir at the Bee and Barb Inn. That's all I know of where he can be found."

 

Maul stared at her a while before backing of and turning around. After a moment's pause, while facing Aerin, he said, "Give me her axe."

 

"No!" she shouted, obviously to be ignored as the guard pushed past her. "You lied! I told you what I know!"

 

"I already visited the Bee and Barb, and he wasn't there. Neither was the woman and little girl he was with. One of you is lying. Maybe one of you tipped him off. Doesn't matter. I'm tired of the games. Hmm, I think a foot for now will do...."

 

"Go ahead, pig. Don't want to disappoint mommy Maven, do we? You might get put in the corner. You're nothing but a coward, who fights battles for the greediest, lowest scum on earth," Aerin said, glaring at Maul.

 

Maul chuckled, then said, "Yea. So? I've got the axe, and you don't. That's all I care about."

 

"We don't know where they are!" Mjoll insisted. "They didn't want any part of what we do here."

 

"Like I said, we haven't done anything, nor do we know anything. And this sewer reeks like an ox's ass," Aerin said, still watching from the ground.

 

Maul considered what they were saying while he held the axe above his head. There was no way the man could have enough spine to hold back info. And Mjoll was too much of a bleeding heart to let him be injured or killed.... Still with the axe in the air, Maul said, "I believe you."

Maul looked behind him to her with a soft expression, then sighed as he lowered the axe.

 

"So you'll let us go?" Mjoll asked wearily.

 

"Yea, I'll let you go," said Maul. And that's exactly what he set to do when the axe came back up with a loud grunt just before the swing.

 

"No!"

 

The guard with Mjoll's weapons grunted as he fell toward the water, and the glass sword was pulled from his belt. Mjoll, hands still bound, raised her blade in both hands just in time to block Maul's swing. The metal clashing on metal echoed throughout the tunnels.

"Aerin, run!"

 

Aerin did the only thing he could think of, rolling straight into the sewage to avoid the blow. The stream of feces carried him away from the his captor, but also his friend, who's faced was as shocked and angry as ever as she fought off guard and lap-dog.

 

Maul turned to the other guard and yelled, "Don't just stand there, go get that little bitch, or it'll be you who gets to float in the cistern next!" Maul turned his attention back to Mjoll, knowing she was too dangerous to keep his eyes off of for long. "I was told not to kill you, but that doesn't mean I can't cripple and beat you within an inch of your life!" Maul ran towards her then and put all his strength into a side swing in an attempt to disarm her, knowing all she could do was block in the small space.

 

Even bound, the Lioness was far from weak, and the tough malachite blade held up when his axe stuck it. But the sheer force was enough to drive her back against the wall. She raised her blade in both hands and aimed a powerful strike at Maul's neck.

 

Maul blocked the strike with the pommel of the her axe. She was strong for a woman, but Maul was strong for a man. "What kind of man runs and leaves a woman to take a mauling for him?" he said as butted her in the face with the axe's handle, causing Mjoll to rear back. A red mark could be seen where she'd been hit, but she didn't seem to notice as she pressed forward, slashing out again.

 

"One who isn't as strong as her." she said through gritted teeth.

 

Maul let his armor protect him this time, and moved to knock her in the face again. On any other day, Maul knew even as a woman, she'd have proved to be a better fighter, but there was only so much one could do with a bound hand against a stronger opponent with a bigger weapon in a closed space. "Give up. Unless you want more scars on that pretty face of yours, girl."

 

Mjoll didn't respond this time, and simply pressed her attack, trying to mix her swings and make the overall assault less predictable. Not that it did much between Maul's blocking and the thick armor he wore. He could tell that she was trying to move in close, to remove the advantage of range that came with her axe.

 

One of the strikes did land, as regardless of the circumstances, Mjoll was skilled. Something that Maul remembered when he felt her blade's sting across his cheek and ear. The frost enchantment tried to bite him as well, though Maul was a Nord, and it actually helped to numb the pain. Regardless, he was angered even more, and tired of being held up with this bitch. She was a pain in his ass ever since she came in the city. And he was playing with the idea of 'accidentally' failing to comply with Maven's orders. But only slightly. He knew better. And besides, he couldn't hear Mjoll's screams if he killed her. With that in mind, Maul delivered a strong stomp to Mjoll's kneecap in retaliation of the cut. Her greaves would have protected from any standard weapon blow, but Maul was a big man, and so much of his weight went into the stomp, that her leg gave. A sickening crack was followed by a scream of pain from Mjoll as she collapsed, her leg now bent in the wrong direction. Through it all, somehow she managed to hold onto her sword, as she fell, she drove the blade towards Maul's leg. He moved it just in time to avoid an impaling, but the edge of the blade did slice the edge of his leg, just behind his own plating.

Wincing in pain, Maul again retaliated by stomping on her sword hand to finally disarm her. After kicking Grimsever away, Maul looked at her twisted figure while trying to ignore his injured leg -so as not to appear weak- and said, "You should have let him die. I was going to use him to send a message. So now it's going to have to be you. You won't die, but you'll wish you had."

 

A pair of bound, iron gauntleted fists to his shin was the only response Maul received.

Those same armored shins went flying to meet with her face. "You've got real balls, I'll give you that. I hate your guts, but I have more respect for you than almost any man that I know. Which means I won't enjoy this quite. as. much," said Maul, sending his fists to the painted side of her face. "You'll need to limp, so I guess this will need to go back..." With that, the Nord grabbed her damaged leg and kicked it back in place. Mjoll's scream of agony bounced off the walls throughout the sewer, but it had worked. Though her actually walking on her own was very unlikely.

Mjoll lay there for a while, until he forced her up. She made no more struggle. Like so many before her, Maul had beaten the will to fight straight out of her.

 

Aerin, frantically swimming out of the sewers, could hear the echoes of numerous screams, but it was the final one that curdled his blood and sent chills down his spine.

 

I'm so sorry, Mjoll, he thought, wondering if she could even bear to look at him after this.

 

On his way out, Maul almost tripped on something that made a loud clang throughout the tunnel. Looking down, Maul's eyebrows went up at the sight of Mjoll's sword. "Wasn't in the Thieves Guild for nothing," he said, bending down to take his new blade. Well, this trail went cold, and sending a message won't be enough. Only lead I have now is Vex. She didn't mention he was with two others, and it's not like her to give inaccurate info. I don't expect much from that end, but it's all I've got....

 

***

Vex, Maul, Boldir, Carlotta, Mila

Vex's home

 

Carlotta made their bed. It was the third time today she had done so. But it seemed that every time she returned to their attic room, it was messed up again. The bed itself was small, no bigger than Mila's back home, but at least it was comfortable. Probably the only cozy thing about their little hideout.

She remembered the attic from when she was a little girl. She had gone up there numerous times when playing hide-and-seek with Aerin and some of their friends. When they were very young, even Vex had joined in, but most of the others didn't like it when she did. They could never find her. Carlotta remembered those games being her favorite, because Vex had always helped her get to the best spots.

And now I'm hiding up here again. But if I lose this time, it's a lot worse than being made 'It'.

 

That wasn't all that had changed. What had been a storage space, was now a thieves den. The bed was for her sister's acquaintances, to give them a decent place to sleep while losing any heat that may be after them. Along the walls were trophy shelves, no different from those downstairs, but containing the most valuable of her collections. No doubt Vex put them up here as a form of bragging to any thieves who ended up under her protection. And perhaps even as a challenge.

Besides the bed and the cabinets, the room had one large round table to seat six people, and two smaller ones made for two. All of these were at the same end of the room as the trapdoor to the rest of the house, while the bed was at the far side, near a single round window overlooking the canals and market beyond.

 

When Carlotta finished making the bed, she crossed the room, over to the trapdoor, and called down. "Mila, It's getting late. Come on up."

 

Mila heard the call, but made no effort to answer it. Why should she? She'd been stuck in this old house all day, and if Vex was right, would be for several more, all because they had lied to her. Besides, it's not even bedtime yet.

She was too intent on her mission to let it go to waste on her mother's command anyway. It had been an hour, or at least felt like it, and she had managed to hide from them this whole time without being found. Carefully, she cracked the closet door and peeked her head out of the darkness. She did so just in time to see the trapdoor across the hall closing again as her mother went back to practicing her healing magic, or whatever it was she was doing. The trapdoor practically vanished when it closed, the only sign that it existed being a thin square line that no one could ever notice unless it was pointed to. Vex had told her mom that she'd painted it to match the ceiling years ago, to make it harder to see.

Mila didn't care about that. She hated the door just like she hated the room it lead to. When nobody was in there, it was just an empty room with shelves full of creepy paintings and shiny busts of people she didn't know staring back at her. When somebody was in there, it was always Boldir or mother, and she didn't want to be around either of them. She much preferred her newly discovered closet. It had been locked previously, but she watched Vex open it with one of her little hooked sticks to put some bag inside. Mila had no trouble finding one of the sticks herself, Vex had many laying around, and after a half an hour of poking around in the keyhole, she felt a click, and the hook turned, opening the door. Inside was a small closet space with just enough room to sit, and on the shelves were little vials and sacks of red and yellow powder. She found that the smell they let off was sweeter than any treat. And feeling victorious at her first picked lock, Mila decided that this was her new room. It was darker than her old one, but at least she had it to herself.

She would stay here until the people looking for them gave up. They had to eventually, and that is when she would finally get to go home. Until then, she leaned against a shelf and fiddled with the paper she had originally tried to write a song on, wishing she had grabbed something to write with before going into hiding.

She almost jumped when she heard a knocking sound coming from the door downstairs. Vex said there would be no visitors.

 

Boldir and Vex shared a glance as the door vibrated from a powerful knock. He could see that she was every bit as surprised as she was. His hand naturally went to his axe, but he knew that fighting was an option that would likely get them all killed. He slowly stood up, and whispered. "Give me twenty seconds, then answer it."

He didn't wait for an answer, and as quietly as he could, Boldir crept upstairs. He passed by all the rooms in the hall and stopped at the hidden trapdoor. He was the only one tall enough to reach it without aid, and pushed it open, before grabbing the ledge and pulling himself up, not waiting for Carlotta to drop the ladder. As he silently closed the door behind him, he looked to his wife, who wore a terrified expression. Immediately, he knew what it was about. No... No! NO!

 

Carlotta gave voice to the question that terrified both of them. "Boldir... Where is Mila?"

 

***

 

Outside, Riften's skies started to cry, soaking Maul and giving him an even more pissed off appearance than normal. To the side of Vex's place, seven guards stood by, waiting in case Maul needed them and gave the signal. But so far all they heard was Maul's continued assault on the door.

 

The door finally swung in, and Vex stood at the entrance. "Damnit, could you not hear me shouting that I was coming? That door had better not be cracked." She sounded a lot more confident than she felt.

 

"You lied."

 

"Lied about what?" Vex peered past him and saw the guards. "I'd invite you to come in out of the rain, but I've got a feeling you plan to do that anyway."

 

"There you go again. Never wrong. Which is exactly the problem. Move." Maul pushed past her into the room and signaled for his men to move inside as well.

 

***

 

Boldir and Carlotta could hear numerous feet bounding into the building. How could they know? he wondered. It didn't matter. They did. He gripped his axe tightly as he slowly opened the trapdoor. If Mila was down there, he wasn't going to leave her. He'd kill every one of them if it came to that, and they would just have to find a new place to hide.

At the last second, before he could climb down, Boldir noticed a movement. The closet door across the hall cracked open, and half of Mila's head poked out. From the look on her face, she knew what was going on. He knew how quiet she could be, and waved for her to come to him.

There was a heavy crash downstairs, and she quickly shook her head before retreating back into the closet and shutting the door. Boldir did the same with the trapdoor, and whispered to Carlotta. "She's hiding in the closet. I don't think she thinks she can reach us."

 

Carlotta was terrified, but relieved that her daughter had at least found a place to hide. "What do we do, then?"

 

He hated it, but Boldir knew that the best option for now was to let her hide. There was no way either of them could reach her silently or quickly enough, and if she was discovered, he could reach her in seconds. "We wait. If they find her, I'll make sure they don't leave this house."

 

***

 

Vex swore. "Do you know how much that was worth?" One of Maul's goons had accidentally bumped into a silver model ship, knocking it to the floor and bending the mast in half.

"I'm serious, Maul, what in Oblivion are you doing? I haven't stolen from anybody under Maven's protection. Trust me, I'm not that stupid."

 

"I don't give a damn about your ill gotten goods, steal another one. What I want to know, is why we were told that this Boldir man was alone when he has a girl and a woman traveling with him. You're never wrong on your info, yet suddenly now you forget this detail."

 

"That?" Vex looked incredulous. "You're kidding right? I tailed that guy for all of a minute for an eavesdrop, just to find out if he was against the guild. I didn't scout out his room or stalk him around the city. When I listened to him, he was alone. He didn't say anything about friends, and I didn't see any."

 

"Yea. Lazy work for you, which I think you and I both can agree, is quite unlike you. There's also the problem that when I went to snag him, he was nowhere to be found in his room. Someone tipped him off. And I'm gonna find out who it was, one way or another."

 

"It's not lazy if it doesn't pertain to my goal. I couldn't have cared less if there were more of them so long as they weren't a threat. As for the snitch, I didn't have a thing to do with this man, but I wish you the best of luck in your hunt." Now get out, asshole.

 

"Don't feed me that bullshit!" Maul stood up from the table and threw it aside. "No one, NO ONE hides in this city without the help of the thieves guild! No one. I'm not leaving this house until I get some godsdamned answers."

 

"No one hides from the Black-Briars at all, Maul!" Vex kept from getting too loud, but she's managed to appear visibly annoyed. It wasn't a hard look for her to pull off, considering he's just flung her table. "And the guild doesn't harbor people from Maven. You know that. Take this shit up with Brynjolf. I hear he has loads of tables to flip."

 

"Oh I'll take it up with Brynjolf. I'll put the whole damned guild on lockdown if I have to. You're damned right no one hides from the Black-Briars, not within the walls. But if they did, the guild would at least find wind of it. I go to Maven about this and tell her I turned up nothing, and no one in the Thieves Guild knows? She'll have you all watched constantly. Brynjolf won't even be able to scratch his nuts without me knowing about it. If that's what it comes to, that's what's gonna happen so everyone knows not to try this shit again. And when I find the rat, what I did to Aerin's protector is gonna look like a night in Haelga's Bunkhouse."

 

"Go for it. I don't care about whoever this rat is, and if someone in the guild is hiding your man, I'll gladly turn the idiot in myself. We know better."

 

"Well I'm glad you approve, then. Because I'll be needing your help as well on my search. I want you to do whatever you can to find this man, and Aerin as well. I'm not convinced he doesn't know anything yet. Didn't get a chance to put the screws to him. Though that's why I left his woman friend alive. Among other reasons." Maul turned around to leave, then said to Vex without looking at her, "Have a daily report of your findings ready for me in the mornings. And let the guild know they're on shut down. Men!"

 

On their way out of the house, Maul whispered to one of the guards, "Keep guards watching on this house constantly, as well as the others the guild owns. And I mean constantly."

 

"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out." Vex muttered as the last of Maul's goons shuffled out, though she wouldn't have minded it one bit if the door had given each and every one of them a splintery whooping. Shit! Shut down on the guild? Can Maul even do that? What the hell am I doing?

 

***

 

"They're leaving." Carlotta said to Boldir from the window across the room, though still in a hushed voice in case she had counted them wrong.

 

"Good." Boldir remained beside the trapdoor, axe in hand, in case anything were to happen. He opened it a little and saw Mila peeking back at him from the closet door across the hall. There was a long pause, and finally the door opened all the way, and she came running over to the trapdoor, where he took her outstretched arms and pulled her up. He hugged her like never before, and she returned it. "Gods, Mila. We were worried. How did you get into that closet? Vex locked that door."

 

When she finally pulled away, Mila smiled slightly and held up the little metal hooked stick she'd used to get the door open. "I used this."

 

"A lockpick?" Boldir wanted to frown, but his relief was too great. Not only at the fact that whoever had come failed to find them, but because Mila seemed to have forgiven them. At least enough to leave the little room she hid in and come be with them.

 

"Boldir! Carly! Get down here, we need to talk!"

 

Carlotta had only just gotten her own turn in embracing her daughter when Vex called. "Wait here, Mila. We'll be right back."

 

They met Vex downstairs, where her table rested upside down at the wrong end of the room.

"Y'mind helping with this, big guy?" she asked, already on the other side, preparing I lift it. Boldir made the task easy, and soon they had a table to sit at any talk once again.

 

"So getting you three out isn't going to be as easy as I'd originally expected." Vex said with a scowl. She was far from happy with Maul's plans to impose on her chosen underground family's way of life, with no knowledge of what had even happened.

 

"It was supposed to be easy?" Carlotta asked skeptically.

 

"No. But now, Maven's top man, Maul, is taking this search to a new level. He's soon going to be pressuring the guild hard, and I have no doubt that he'll have somebody watching my house. I'll be sure of that one way or the other by tomorrow. I have no idea how we're going to pull this off quickly like I wanted. We'll just have to hold out and wait for an opportunity."

 

"I thought we needed to hurry." Carlotta answered. "I thought that you said that Maven would hire even better trackers than Maul before long."

 

"She most likely will. And we can't do a damned thing about it anymore. I could've at least tried to throw them off with false leads, but now they're watching me too closely. There are a few I trust in the guild, but no doubt they'll be in the same state as I soon enough."

 

"Is there any chance we can send a courier?" Boldir offered. "Someone to get outside help?"

 

"Us? No, not without Maul finding out what he's carrying before he leaves. And all of the birds are kept in the castle. We don't have much ability to contact anyone outside Riften."

 

"Damn." Boldir swore. "But what about the sewers? Is there no way out through them?"

 

"None. All exits lead back into Riften." That have Vex an idea though. "But there is the canals! We will have to work out a way to get all of you across the city to the lake, but if we can get you hiding in the water near one of the gates, you could swim through next time a fishing boat comes through."

 

Boldir grew more and more excited as Vex laid out her idea. He even thought that maybe they could sell some of Vex's truckers and have her but some invisibly-type potions for crossing the town. But then his heart sank when he remembered a vital flaw in their ability to pull this one off. Carlotta remembered too, and said it before he could.

"Mila can't swim."

 

"Damnit!" Vex slammed her fist on the scratched up table. "Is there no way she could lea-"

 

"Hey!" Mila's voice cut her off from upstairs. "Come up here, you'll want to see this!"

 

By the time the three adults had made it up to the attic, Mila was already standing near the window, looking down on the market below. They reaches her to see that there was a large crowd gathered around something just beside one of the bridges.

 

"What is it?" asked Carlotta, straining to catch a glimpse of whatever the people gathered around.

Nearby guards moved in to order them back. Most relented, afraid to challenge the men with the weapons. But there was a certain anger among those who remained, and the guards had to use force to get them to back away. Pushing, shoving, and in one bold case, punching were utilized. As the people distanced from their point of focus, it became more clear to Boldir and Carlotta what they were looking at. It was a person, fully-armored, left laying in the street. Boldir's eyes widened as he recognized the figure. It was Mjoll.

 
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Lucenius, Dev, Jon, Sal- Dawnstar

Lucienus sat in pitch darkness, with his luminous purple eye's closed. On his lap was his gold/ebony shortsword, and clutched in his hands was an emerald locket. Inside of the trinket, was carved, "For my dearest Claudia. Your brother loves you." The ancient vampire was deep in thought,

A waste of time. Desprte as I am, I should have known Jon wouldn't relented. So much for being a good mercenery. I understand though, betraying one race is always a difficult thing due, for mortals anyway. My speech on duel meanings didn't help in the slightest. There's almost zero chance he'll give me the information.

At the same time, a Nord of great size was making his way towards a clearing with a cave outside of Dawnstar. He was very careless in his approach, even going out of his way to kick a tree branch quite high into the air. He knew better than to try and approach someone like Lucenius without making his presence known right away.

 

Lucienus's fine hearing picked up noise coming from outside of the cave he was staying in.

 

Most likely one of Jon's men. I suppose it would be rude not to greet him.

 

Disappearing in a cloud of darkness, the vampire reappeared blade slightly drawn from it's sheaf behind the huge nord. An arrogant smirk appeared on Lucienus's face, 

 

Dev. My, my...how flattering Jon.

 

"Not very stealthy I see, Dev is it?" He said, out loud,

 

A hearty laugh came from the huge Nord.

 

"Wraith! Just the man I was looking for. Do me a favor, and put your toy away. Cutting a man of my stature up would make one hell of a mess! Besides, Jon and Sal await us," he said with a laugh. He didn't turn to face Lucenius directly, instead motioning for him to follow him to the meeting spot.

 

"Been a long time you old brute." He said, walking behind him, while sheaving his blade, "How goes thing?"

 

Dev smiled when he heard the oldest guy he'd ever met put his weapon away completely.

 

"Now that's more like it! I've never been better! Got my money, my fair share of destruction to cause. You know, the good stuff! And how about you? What kind of mayhem have you been entertainin' yourself with?" Dev responded, while kicking some fallen branches away.

 

"Joined up with a special operations unit in Valenwood. Been doing stealthy stuff of late. Besides that, taking the odd contract. Killing nobles, the same old thing."

 

"Ahh. I can't say I'm fit for the stealth life," he said, glancing at his massive biceps. "Oh well! I'd rather meet my enemy head on anyway. And Valenwood you say? My my. Long way out. Though I guess I'm quite far from my usual spot too. Luckily for my Nord blood, I ain't bothered by the cold as much as the others seem to be."

 

They were nearing the clearing now, where Jon and a Dunmer awaited them.

 

"As a vampire, I welcome the cold." He muttered. Glancing at Jon, he strode forward ignoring him. A Dumner was beside him, an aquitance of Lucienus's, Sal,

 

"Jon, i'm truly touched you would get such elite warriors guard you, while you told me bad news. Truly touched." He said sarcastically. he later nodded at the dumner, "Sal."

 

"Wraith..." Sal responded in a dry voice. He'd never been much of a talker. Less so when situations could get intense.

 

Jon smiled, almost as if he was doing it on Sal's behalf.

 

"Hey now, don't take my caution for fear now. Besides, the three of you are well acquainted. I figured you could catch up, regardless of what the news was. But, as you've suspected, the decision isn't the most favorable for you. I do have this," Jon said, tossing a journal towards Lucenius. "But as you'll find out, most of the information isn't anything special. Nothing you shouldn't have guessed already. I don't apologize for it, though I feel for your desperation. It's not often that one comes to me looking for such information."

 

"It's fine. I suppose i'll have to get the information through the order. If they don't kill me that is. Or do it manually. Haven't infiltrated and scouted out an army encampment in centuries, might be fun" He said, grabbing the journal in the air,

 

"I'd have to recommend the second one, if anything," Jon said, as he watched some snow slip off a nearby tree branch. "Whatever the case may be, I hope that you remain safe enough. It'd be a shame to lose you after all this time, now wouldn't it?"

 

"Normally death would be a very welcome respite. However, were i'm going when I die, i'd very much rather stay alive for another milliiuem or two."

 

Jon couldn't help but chuckle a bit. If irony was his favorite form of humor, dark humor wasn't all that far behind.

 

"I figured as much. Now, is there anything I could help you with that's in the realm of possibility for me to give you?"

 

"If you wouldn't mind, I would like to know how her majesty is doing. It was very rude of me to light one of her warehourses on fire, and slaughter her soldiers. Wouldn't mind knowing how the lass is."

 

"She's alive and well. Attempts on her life have been minimal, nothing too serious from what I can gather. Though with politicians such as herself, you can never be sure. For all we know, she could have been stabbed 12 times and barely survived. I doubt anyone would ever let the severity of any attempt be known to the public."

 

"Nearly killed , several months ago by a dominion agent impersonating an old friend of her, several stab wounds to the stomach. That agent is infact my units handler in Valenwood." Starting to wipe his now drawn blade with a cloth,

 

"Damn. Best guess I've had in a little while. I'm glad to hear she's alright though. No need for any more political turmoil than there already is. Now, may I ask you something?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Don't worry, it's shouldn't be too difficult. How's the wolf doing?"

 

"The wolf? Fury-eye is fine. Much better. Seems to be almost fully recovered from his...trauma, reverted back to his cool, and stoic self. Thinks logically and remorselessly, guided by cold reason."

 

"Yes, wolf. He does lead the Bloodwolves, no? But anyways... yes. That's much better than the last I heard of him. I can only hope he continues to become more stable as time goes on. More and more lives are depending on it."

 

"Edaurd telling your horror stories I presume?"

 

"Now now, Lucenius. You know Eduard isn't into fictional tales. He told me that he was impossible to read, as his demeanor could change completely at the drop of a hat. Does that sound very stable to you?"

 

"Follows of his highness Sheogroth view insanity as a blessing, I may add."

 

"Blessing or not, it's also a liability. I don't think you'll argue that. Like you said though, he seems to be coming along well."

 

"True. Didn't really affect his performance though. I doubt the Jarl with the wolf dark arrow in his throat would disagree."

 

"I wouldn't expect it to have all that much effect on what was basically a solo operation. Eduard shot a different man entirely on that day, as a matter of fact. In any case, I'm not disputing the man's ability to fight. How could I? It could have been more problematic for his leadership skills, that's all. You wouldn't follow an idiot," Jon said, looking directly at Lucenius now.

 

"I'm an idiot. Idiot's follow other idiots, no?" He said, flashing an arrogant smile, "That's besides the point. Another question, if I may ask, how is the court mage?"

 

Jon didn't react to the sarcastic joke, as it wasn't really his cup of tea.

 

"The court mage, like the Empress, is alive and well. Very much so, actually. As I'm sure you're aware, he's quite the power. Got a lot going for him, and not much going against him. At this point, he very much seems to run the place. I wouldn't want to be the one on his bad side. Not sure I'd want to be on his good side either, though."

 

"Very true. Sorts like him tend to betray you. He suspects nothing thankfully about my wolves, which is a relief. Frightening even for me to face."

 

"It's not just betrayal that would worry me. He by all accounts seems to be... controlling. And you know how much I dislike that thought of that. And, really? You're sure no one suspects anything about the wolves? They must not have as many mercenary contacts as they used to. Of course, my contacts are currently unavailable. Could explain some of it, I suppose. It's just a little hard for someone like me to fathom missing the hints. Mercenaries from all over getting recruited into some organization. I would've been kicking in some heads, had I been the mage. And looking for you. Lucky for you, he wasn't thinking mercenary. Or, another possibility, he had other concerns to attend to. In any case, you have your unit. And you seem to have them where you want them. Right?"

 

"Yes, Dales assassination attempt came at an opportune time. Distracted his train of thought, and made him sloppy.  Of course, there's the imperial spymaster Lilly Quentas, smart girl, also uncorruptible, Fortatunley, I got into contact with her before the court mage found my lord. Gave her information that forced her to halt reinforcements coming in from the navy, and clear the blockade which was put out under orders from an intelligent Occultus commander, and afterwords made a deal."

 

"What'd you tell her? And a deal?"

 

"Her pregnant sister was in one of the ships that was about to leave the imperial city. Who happens to be my masters wife. Afterwords, I agreed to give her all the information I had on were she was going and her status. I also told her no harm would come to her precious sibling. In return, she would keep the court mage off my wolves backs, and instead of wasting resources looking for us, they would be put to good use for the next conflict. I also told her, that it wouldn't be my fault to what would happen to her if the court mage caught wind of us. That made her cooperate."

 

"I see. Always sad to have to resort to threatening one's family, especially when there's a child involved. It can't be helped sometimes, I suppose. Oh, I've got another question for you."

 

"I didn't tell the wolf. He wouldn't understand the necessity of this. And yes?"

 

"Yeah, that's for sure. Wouldn't be your best move, telling your commander that you threatened his pregnant wife. And my question. What can I expect from a reaction standpoint when you tell Lorgar that I turned down your request?" Jon asked. He was more curious for Eduard's sake, than his own. Jon could disappear in a day, never to be found. Eduard had more political and military ties. A bit harder for him to hide for too long.

 

He seemed to understand whom the question was aimed for, "He considers Edaurd a comrade and a friend, don't worry. He's much too busy to go on a hunt for the assassin. I didn't tell him I was going to your for the information though, he just gave me a general order, which I followed. I am bounded to him after all."

 

"That's a hunt both you and I know he'd never complete," Jon said, with a non-threatening tone. "And what about yourself? Surely you're a bit disappointed."

 

"Don't underestimate him. Literally, he'll feast on you with his abyss dark fangs shrouded in moonlight if you doubt a beast like that man." He said, in an equally non-threatening tone, just a deadpan monotone, "And meh. I suppose i'm annoyed. Will have to stain my ebony shortblade soME more, along with some boring observations and scouting."

 

"I'm aware of his relentless determination," he replied, unimpressed. "It would just be far from his best idea to ever pursue him, or me for that matter. Anyways, like I said, that information is the best I can give you considering the circumstances. Now, do you have any other requests or thoughts before we part ways?"

 

I wouldn't mind tasting sweet brotherhood blood, and stain my blade with his crimson liquid n the name of Sithis. But meh...

 

"One more. I'm far too busy to do it myself, but can I ask a personal favor?"

 

"You can most certainly ask."

 

He took out a small locket, dangling on a platinum chain. It looked extremely expensive, "Southeast of the Applevale, a small town in Cyrdoli, there's a shallow grave marked by three stones by a stone bridge. Can you lay this there for me?"

 

"I can't see why not," Jon said, motioning for Lucenius to hand him the locket. "Athen is actually leaving for Cyrodiil tomorrow morning. With all the border security going on nowadays, it's hard to move more than a few guys through at a time."

 

Jon never once thought about asking to who was in this crudely marked grave. If Lucenius wasn't going to mention it, he didn't care to know.

 

He gave him a genuine smile, the first one Lucienus had ever shown, "Thank you. Means quite a bit to me."  He said giving Jon the locket,

 

"It turns out your trip here did serve a useful purpose, it seems," Jon replied, pocketing the locket.

 

"Be careful with that, despite the spell of protection, it's centuries years old."

 

Jon gave a half-smile, before opening the pocket he had placed the locket in as far as he could. The pocket was lined with a very soft fabric, unlike the rest of his attire.

 

"I always leave a spot to put something antique or valuable. Not everything I take is durable."

 

"Well. I suppose I should be off. If you see Sentinel, tell him I send him my regards." He gave all three of them nods, "Jon, Sal, Dev, it's been a pleasure."

 

"It's always a pleasure to see me!" Dev said, laughing at his own joke.

 

"Until next time," Sal said quietly.

 

"I'll be sure to let him know," Jon said, returning the nod. "The pleasure was all mine. Goodbye Lucenius."

 

Putting his hand to his chest, he did a mocking bow, before disappearing in a cloud of shadow.

 

"Well, that was boring! Good to see the old guys doing alright though. Now, how about we all go and have ourselves a good feast. I'm starving!"

 

Sal just shook his head. Jon smiled, also shaking his head.

 

"When are you not in the mood for a feast?"

 

"When I'm... uhh... feasts are great, dammit."

 

With that, they left towards Dawnstar.

 
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REBBA

The Black Wisp
Abecean Sea, nighttime

Mazoga leaned against the rail, her hand on the steering as she kept an eye on the horizon for more sign of pirates. It was a mild, beautiful night, however, and with most of the crew stealing some sleep on their pallets, she could savor the quiet.

To other people, even some sailors, the isolation and discomforts of a sea voyage were something to be endured. Being at sea meant being cheek by jowl with the smells and annoyances of your fellow man or mer, with little privacy, frequently at war with the elements if not actually at war. It was a strange mixture of dependence and isolation, interspersed with sometimes long periods of boredom and financial uncertainty. And the competition and pirates were always breathing down your neck.

Many sailors also had no real home. Mazoga didn’t, either. She knew why Captain Rebec had stayed married to a man she hardly saw. At least someone, occasionally, was waiting for you when you got home, and a pair of strong arms could get you through the night. The men who weren't married could go to the whores, and could get away with things that would cause a female running a crew to lose respect, but Rebec had to be more careful. Now that she was also responsible for running the crew, Mazoga understood that better.

Yet, despite the deprivations and pressures of the life- made even more acute now that they were on war footing- the orc loved this life more than any other she could imagine. She thrived on the uncertainty even more than Rebec did. Let others take comfort from having the ground under their feet. There was far more satisfaction in making your way through the vast and menacing sea on spit and will alone.

Mazoga’s thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Hjarn Broadhands. “I was thinking of getting to work on that little surprise of ours. You think now is a good time?â€

“Probably so. The captain went down about a half hour ago, but she’s got her husband in there with her, so...† Normally Rebec didn’t sleep much when they were at sea, so finding a time when she wouldn’t appear on the deck would be impossible. Not so with Baldur aboard.  “Go ahead, if you want.â€

The Nord nodded, and went over to the stash taken from a dwarven ruin on an island off Stros M'kai, covered over with tarp. Rebec was curious, but as the orc suspected, hadn’t pressed to see their spoils. In a crew mission, booty belonged to the ship and you had to wait til the end of the run for your pay and whatever bonuses the captain felt like doling out. This was a side mission, though, and Rebec had said they could keep whatever they looted for themselves. Their surprise was safe for now.

After a few minutes Mazoga got up, stretched, and called a crewman over to relieve her at the helm. She then joined Hjarn, and picked up a sanding cloth. Ulf, the ship’s weapons master, had gotten the mechanisms on the old dwarven instruments working, but there were a couple eras worth of tarnish built up on the ancient metal.

As they worked, Mazoga glanced at Hjarn. The quiet, surly Nord kept to himself, and she was surprised when he volunteered to go with them to the ruin. He was a good addition, though, especially when some of the ruin’s old defenses proved to be not quite dead. “What are you going to do with your share of the loot?†she asked him.

 

Immediately he said, “Bring my wife and son to Skyrim. I’ve been saving up for it, but this ought to put me over.â€

“They’re in Anvil?†At his nod, Mazoga said, “Why don’t you want to go back to Cyrodiil?â€

Hjarn shrugged. “I’m a Nord. Skyrim is our home. At least, it ought to be.â€

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.â€

He fell silent again, and Mazoga thought that might be the end of the conversation, but shedding blood together had a way of bonding people- even if the “blood†was Dwemer oil. “Skyrim isn’t really my home, either,†he continued finally. “There is no good place for Nords like me anymore. The empire was supposed to be our home, but it's changed. I thought Skyrim would feel like home, but it's just a strange place. People look like me, but they’re no more my kinsmen than you are. Those who say otherwise are just peddling sentiment.â€

“And how do you think the orcs feel?â€

He looked up from his polishing. “You mean because Orsinium was sacked?â€

Mazoga snorted. “Being sacked was the whole reason Orsinium ever existed. Orsinium is just a game, the orcs players in it as much as anyone else. They throw up a few walls and when they get knocked down, they move somewhere else and do the same thing, daring their enemies to come do it all over again. Anyway, my family is from Leyawiin and has long roots there, so Orsinium doesn’t mean much to me. Even less than Skyrim does to you, I imagine.â€

“Why did your family leave?â€

“Same reason as you left Cyrodiil, I guess. Because everything changed and the Thalmor wouldn’t leave us alone.â€

Hjarn said, “Thorn-Orc.... you know, I seem to recall a story about that name. Maybe it was a different family.â€

Mazoga smiled and kept polishing. “No, that was probably our family. We had our own legend in Leyawiin, though in the end it meant no more than Orsinium did. My family were knights, if you can believe it. Going back two hundred years. I’m named for the matriarch of the clan, an orc woman who somehow managed to squeeze a knighthood from the Leyawiin count. To her it meant 'doing good deeds,' and unlike most orders of knights in the last couple centuries, they stuck together and somehow managed to never turn bandit. Then the Great War happened and Leyawiin came under Thalmor occupation. The leader then, my grandmother, took the remaining White Horse knights into the forest and joined some partisans. She declared that the most important good deed they could do then was to be a thorn in the side of the Thalmor. The justiciar ruling Leyawiin apparently heard this story from an informant, because when my grandmother was captured during one of their raids, they said 'if it's thorns you want, thorns you'll get.' They tied her to a stake, covered her in thorns, and left her to bleed and dehydrate in the middle of the town square.  She was too well guarded for a rescue, but one of our archers shot her dead to end her suffering. The rest of the family took the name Thorn-Orc out of pride in her sacrifice. Soon, there were so few left that it was clear we couldn’t survive. My parents came north to Skyrim and settled outside Riften, where I was born shortly thereafter. Come to think of it, they probably should have changed our name, but orcs are stubborn that way."

Hjarn had stopped his work to listen. When Mazoga was finished, he smiled. “That’s quite a tale. And as it seems, you’re a Skyrim native and I’m not.â€

“Home is something you carry with you, Broadhands. You and your wife will do just fine in Skyrim.† As she continued to work, Mazoga thought about how she wasn't that different than the Orsinium orcs. Home was wherever the ship was in port, and her family wore defeat like a badge of honor.

 

"I'm an orc after all, I guess," she muttered. Broadhands had gone back to his pallet by then, and Rebec would be waking soon. Mazoga covered the Dwemer haul again and went below to catch a few hours sleep.

 

Below decks in the Captain's quarters, the Captain's husband just stirred from slumber and was briefly recovering, remembering where he was. The salt in the air coming from the port window sped that process up, as did the warmth and presence next to him. A few blinks and a yawn later brought back memories of his dreams. Same dream again.

 

Rolling over to his side, Baldur put it out his mind and thought of other more troubling matters, like the Thalmor. Last time they came for blood, it was Baldur who was the child while his father went to war. Now it was his turn to leave a child behind. Though he could remember briefly hoping that Ulrin wouldn't return. But only briefly. He was his father, after all.

 

And soon he would be one. He knew nothing about raising a child, and yet he so badly wanted one. He married the first woman he fell in love with, was never in any relationship before, gave coin to a child to buy a prostitute and called him a soldier, and yet somehow he convinced not only himself, but Rebec as well that he could be a good father. He wanted a child with Rebec to be sure, but remembering his letter to Boldir made him realize it may have been for more selfish reasons, that being to hold on to her.

 

Or maybe he was just being a coward now, and he would be just fine. Whatever the case was, he couldn't be any worse than his father. Right?

 

Rebec didn't dream much at sea, her mind always half aware of the ship even when the other half was sleeping. Baldur being next to her had a calming effect, though, as if the warm weight next to her anchored her.

 

Maybe it was his own tension that woke her now. With a groan she rolled to her back and then sat up. Glancing over, she gave Baldur a sleepy smile and got up to use the chamberpot. From the pot she said, "You can't sleep?"

 

"Just the waves, Rebby," he said, smiling and pushing his doubts away for her sake. "And excitement from finally being home."

 

"Not quite home yet." Rebec finished her tinkle and got up, stretching first and then starting to wash herself at the basin. "We've been lucky not to hit more storms, being winter and all. Maybe you just bring me fair winds."

 

Just as the words were out, a wave of nausea hit her and she was back at the chamber pot, this time kneeling in front of it. It took another moment before the rest of last night's dinner came up. "Aw, shit," she groaned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I thought maybe I wasn't going to get that part."

 

Baldur got up after that and stretched briefly before going to his pack to get his skin of water. "So the fun begins. Ma warned me about this part." He handed the water over so she could wash her mouth out. "Maybe you should stay and rest. I could go and check on stuff for you. I pretty much got the hang of things."

 

"No, no, can't start going soft. I just need a minute." She took a sip of water, warily, and though her stomach roiled, nothing seemed to be coming up. "What I really could do with is some mead, damn it. I guess you're not going to want a good-morning kiss now." Grinning, she sat on the bed and fought the urge to crawl back under the covers.

 

"That was the answer I expected," Baldur said, smiling. He took his place next to her on the bed, then seized her head for a close mouthed kiss. "I always want my morning kiss. Anyway, it's still early, and as always the ship will be just fine without Rebec's watchful eye glaring at the ropes to make sure they all stay fastened. You can sleep for a little longer at least, under the circumstances."

 

She was surprised when he actually kissed her, vomit mouth and all. It took her breath away. "No, I slept long enough already. After this run, Mazoga takes over and she can choose a first mate. But my crew deserves a captain." There was time for a little cuddle, however, and she took that. Finally forcing herself to get up, however, she started dressing. A coffee smell wafted in from the galley. They had picked up some beans in Hammerfell. Baldur too dressed, though not in armor like he did normally on duty. Instead, he threw on a regular green tunic and some leather trousers, deciding to forgo weapon training today and help the others with whatever they were busying themselves with.

 

"I'm off to see if I can't catch a quick card game with Vigge and some others then, while it's still early. At least get some breakfast first before you start climbing the ropes, Captain." After one last hug, he reluctantly left the little cabin room, grateful that none of his nightly anxiety showed. Rebec appeared on the deck shortly thereafter, coffee in hand. There was a chill in the air that hadn't been there the morning before.

 

"Skyrim," she thought, smiling. They would stop by Northwatch- Kyne's Watch, now- and then go on to Windhelm to report to the king and queen.

 

She took a turn at the helm, then Mazoga came over and said, "Cap, I've got something to show you. The general, too."

 

The two women went to collect Baldur, then Mazoga led them to the Dwemer stash and said, "This is a wedding gift. Just the sort that you two would appreciate, I think." With that introduction, she threw the tarp back, revealing two now-gleaming Dwemer ballistae.

 

Baldur's eyes lit up from the gleam alone, but when his eyes registered to what he was looking at, his jaw dropped. "You guys found these? They're beautiful! And quite rare too! Collectors would kill to get their hands on Dwemer ballista!" Baldur enthusiastically ran his hands over the design, looking at the symbols on them embedded among the pattern of the weapons. Menel came up behind them, coffee in one hand and a Hammerfell spicy sausage in the other.

 

"I'll have you know that I personally fried scores of horrible metal spider... things... to get to these. Enjoy them in good health."

 

Baldur looked at him skeptically with a smirk and said, "How do you burn metal spiders?"

 

"You overheat them until the soul gems in them start crying out for mercy. Ha!"

 

Rebec was quiet during all this, finally leaning in and saying to Mazoga, "Thanks, Maz, but you don't need to do this. That haul was supposed to be yours."

 

"Nonsense! I can give you a wedding present, can't I? Besides, if we mount these on the ship, then it's a present that keeps on giving to all of us. Oh, and there's more." The orc opened a chest and removed a smaller, hand-held crossbow, which she presented to Rebec. "There was only one of these in the armory. Maybe it was a prototype. The wooden bows are always breaking, aren't they? Not this one.  And Ulf says he thinks it will fire with more force than the others. We think we got her working, but I haven't fired it yet. That should be your honor."

 

Rebec took the crossbow and gave it her usual skeptical once-over. Then she took the quarrel that Mazoga handed her, and fiddled with the mechanism to set it.  She had thought it might be hard to draw, but the dwarven metal was fairly light for being so strong, and a special lever aided the draw-back. Aiming at a dummy, Rebec loosed the bolt towards it. The bow had no more kick than her usual weapon, but the bolt fired with such force that it disappeared, fletch and all, into the dummy.

 

Baldur's eyes again shot open when he said, "Wow, that would cut through even my armor..."

 

"And that's the point," Mazoga declared happily.

 

Rebec looked at the crossbow, not happy to be using a devil bow, but you couldn't argue with results. "Thank you, Maz. And you too, Menel."  The Bosmer, cheeks full, preened and nodded.  "We'll talk to old Oengul in Windhelm and see if he can make the mounts."

 

Menel started to say something, but had to chew first. Finally he got out, "I made some diagrams of how they were mounted in the ruin, but I daresay we might improve on the design. They were fixed on some ramparts, which is fine when you're just guarding a door, but on a ship they should be able to swivel."

 

The admiral tilted her head. "Elf, you're in danger of actually making yourself useful."

 

Baldur ran off quickly to grab a piece of paper and a journal of his, and he quickly copied the symbols on the ballistaes for later reference. "It's almost a shame to keep them on the ship. But they are weapons first and foremost. Strange, these symbols look like the ones Baladas Demnevanni included in his translation of Divine Metaphysics. On how they tried to make Numidium. This is advanced, but not that advanced. Or maybe it was at the time? Could be an early Dwemer model."

 

Rebec looked at her husband as though he had just started talking Sload, which everyone knows is unhealthy. Shaking her head, she walked back to the helm.

 

Menel, meanwhile, was puzzling over what Baldur had said. "These would have been Rourken weapons, unless there were Dwemer in Hammerfell prior to the War of the First Council. Which I suppose is possible, since the Dwemer were a secretive lot after all, and nobody was really paying attention. Do you suppose these have capabilities other than the obvious, and the inscriptions are firing solutions? The Dwemer were said to use music as a weapon. Maybe these could launch aetherial bolts of some sort."

 

Baldur ran his hands over the symbols, then said, "They do look like runes, don't they? Could be. Maybe it's a phrase to wake up the capabilities. Like... like a magic scroll. Of course, I can't actually translate or speak the language myself, so if it is, it's useless. At least, in the magic sense."

 

"Yes, I doubt we'd ever get it to work that way. Probably they're a self-destruct sequence put there just for curious looters like us. Ha, ha." Menel gestured at the pile. "There are other curiosities in there. I wanted to take more, but we had enough to do to haul the ballistae out.  And there were rooms that were closed off. We found some of the cube keys, but not all. The ruin had already been looted before, mostly by fools who were just skeletons littering the floor."

 

"I'm sure Veleda will love to pour over those when we get back. I'd have liked to as well, but I'll probably be too busy. Her knowledge of magic would probably make her more likely to find something anyway. Regardless, these are a great find, even if we don't find something." Baldur patted the round mer on the gut, then said, "You've been a great help, by the way Menel. I'm glad I didn't throw you overboard."

 

"Oh, that." Menel laughed nervously. "A good disciplinary tactic, general. Respect the hindquarters. If I didn't remember it before, I surely will now."

 

Baldur laughed a little menacingly while he cracked his knuckles, thinking on his reaction to Bel, then said, "Yea, that's the way I see it. Alright, I'm off to help you clear out some of those sausages before we get back. Would be a shame to see them go to waste, no?"

 

Nervously Menel replied, "I laid in a good supply, but... how long until we're in Windhelm again?" He appeared to be counting.

 

Mazoga cut in. "We can always raid passing ships if you run out."

 

"Really?"

 

"No." Turning to Baldur, she said, "I'll go relieve Cap so she can join you down in the galley for lunch. She looked a little pale this morning."

 

Vigge was already in the hold, nursing a cup of mead and nibbling from a plate of bread, cheese and pickles at his side. When he saw Baldur, he gestured at the rowing bench across from him. "Take a load off, son-in-law."

 

Baldur came over with a bowl of pork chunks, some goat cheese and some extra sausages in his pocket that he snuck out from Menel's barrels. He kicked off his leather boots by the ship wall before plopping down across from Vigge. He didn't bother with wearing socks. Baldur hated socks. Too restricting for his big feet. Sighing as he wriggled his toes, Baldur threw a pork chunk up and caught it in his mouth. Grinning, he said, "You can just call me Baldur, you know."

 

Vigge stared silently at Baldur's feet a moment, then looked back down at his plate and continued eating. "Mm. You don't like being my son-in-law?" Baldur stopped chewing for a moment as he regarded Vigge. He couldn't tell if he was truly worried about that, or if he was just curious. He still didn't understand the man as his wife did.

 

"It's not that, it just sounds so formal. I hear 'General' 'Unkindled' and 'Red-Snow' all day. No need for more formalities or titles between you and I."

 

"You don't see me using any of those fancy titles, do you. Other men would be proud to be called husband of my daughter. Just you remember that."

 

Rebec came down in time to hear the last of this conversation. Resting her hand on Baldur's shoulder, she gave Vigge a chastising look and asked, "What are you two boys talking about?" Baldur knew Vigge mistook his meaning, and opened his mouth to say all he meant was he didn't think family had to refer to each other with full titles like that, but he thought that was obvious. Vigge to his memory never once used his actual name, but he just sighed and let it go.

 

"Oh nothing." Baldur went back to stuffing his face.

 

"Your husband was telling me how he was going to slit my throat in my sleep," Vigge muttered.

 

In spite of herself, Rebec laughed. It was all you could do with grown men who acted like children.  Leaning over to kiss Baldur's temple, she said, "He doesn't know you keep an axe under the pillow."

 

"Gotta be ready. You never know."

 

"More like up his ass," said Baldur to himself. "All I said was that he could use my actual name for once instead of just 'son-in-law'. We're family. Ma doesn't call you 'daughter-in-law' all the time. It's not a big deal, it was just a suggestion, is all. I am proud to be called her husband, pa. Believe you me. For once I'd like a conversation with you where that wasn't called to question."

 

"Get used to disappointment."

 

"Papa!" Vigge waved a hand at her while Rebec sat down next to Baldur and started raiding his food. In between bites she said, "I know what your problem is, Papa. You're jealous. I was supposed to stay your little girl forever, and you were supposed to be the only man in my life, then here comes this upstart general and usurps your place again."

 

"Don't be ridiculous, girl."

 

"Mm hm." She smiled knowingly at Baldur. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ysana on the other end of the ship, working on something. "Hey ma! Come join us. You can bring whatever you're working on there."

 

Ysana looked behind her to the group with a look of annoyance. She caught most of the conversation, but was too busy finishing up her little project to butt in.

 

"Just a second, dear." A few minutes later, she came over and roughly scooted Vigge over before handing Rebec the little woolen and fur booties she was busy making. "Just something to keep me busy. I plan on making some other things too."

 

Vigge glanced over at the booties. "Bit small."

 

"They're not for me," Rebec said, beaming. She waited to see if Vigge would catch her meaning, but he looked at her blankly. Exasperated, she said, "They're for the baby. We're having a baby, papa. A little Nord needs his fur boots.  Thank you, ma."

 

The old sailor dropped his piece of cheese he was about to eat and it bounced from the bench to the floor and with the pitch of the ship, rolling into the corner. Vigge looked from Rebec to Baldur and then to Ysana. His white moustache bobbed as his jaw worked, but no sound came from his mouth. Baldur waited along with the others to see what he'd say, if anything. Though his nervousness at what he'd say made him grow impatient, and so he met Vigge's look knitted brows.

 

"Well, old man? That to your liking or do we have to take things top deck?"

 

"Baldur..." Ysana said in a warning tone, not wanting things to escalate over what was supposed to be a happy moment.

 

"Are you sure?" he finally asked, this directed to Rebec.

 

"Yes. I'm sure." She knew what his speechlessness was hiding and started laughing, then jumped up to throw her arms around Vigge's neck and then plant a kiss on his cheek. Telling her father had helped kindle some of her own excitement, which she'd always been holding back a bit. "You're going to be a grandpa, you old fool."

 

Vigge still sat stunned a while. Finally he took Rebec's hand and squeezed it, smiling up at her.

 

Rebec lowered her voice. "I know what you're thinking, papa. It's going to be different this time."

 

Tears started to shimmer in the old man's eyes at that, but he held them back. Still holding Rebec's hand, he looked across to Baldur. "Yes, son-in-law. Baldur. That's alright with me."

 

Baldur was taken by surprise at his reaction, more so at hearing Vigge use his name. Turning to where Rebec was seated, he picked up the little boots Ysana made and placed them in the palm of his hand. Ysana watched him as he did this, smiling from the memory of him wearing a pair just like them.

 

Baldur stuck two fingers in them, thinking how the same hands that hurt and killed so many were now holding these cute little booties and would soon be putting them on a real baby. His baby. Our baby.

 

He smiled at that, fending off tears himself, then said while still looking at them, "Well alright, then. I was afraid I was going to have to look bad for hitting an old man."

 

Vigge snorted and waved a hand. "You'd better thank the gods for that, bard." The tender family moment had apparently passed, though the sailor used the moment to quickly wipe at his eyes. He squeezed Rebec's hand again and gestured for her to return to Baldur's side.

 

Suddenly Vigge stood up and raised his voice so all the ship could hear. "Now listen here, you deck rats. Listen, all of you." He waited until the milling or working sailors stopped what they were doing, and more peeked down from the up above.

 

"Papa..." Rebec started nervously.

 

Ignoring her, Vigge waited until he had a suitable audience, then lifted his mead mug. "Double liquor rations today, on me. I'm going to be a grandfather!"

 

There was a pause while the crew waited to see if he was joking, then the sailor crowd broke into clapping and whistles. Some of them, more impressed by the promise of liquor than the news, went back to their work. Others crowded around Baldur and Rebec, slapping backs and offering their hands. Ysana's almost boyfriend, Bjol Wave-Runner came over and head-locked Baldur to ruffle his hair.

 

"That double ration doesn't count my homemade mead, so don't get too excited!" said Baldur between the old sailor's arm. Bjol backed off, a little disappointed, but he still tapped him on the shoulder and congratulated him, then gave Rebec a pat on the back before stealing Ysana away to talk while Baldur was occupied.

 

Sidano, the Khajiit assassin, appeared at Baldur's side next- silently, of course. "High General Red Snow. You work fast, my friend."

 

Baldur was taken by surprise for the second time by a khajiit, but this time thankfully, not with a dagger at his throat. Turning to him, he smiled and said, "Ah, you know us Nords, quick to court. Also quick to conceive it seems. Making up for lost time."

 

"May your litter grow swift and strong, High General." The Khajiit offered his hand.

 

Menel came down from the upper deck, looking bewildered. "What's going on?"

 

"The Captain's going to pop out another freeloader, so you won't be the only one on the ship!" said Baldur over the noise of the sailors.

 

The Bosmer appeared confused, so Rebec shouted, "I'm pregnant, you ass!"

 

Eyebrows lifting, Menel said, "Aha. Another freeloader like me, eh? Meaning your bundle of joy is going to be a mage?"

 

"Not a chance!" By then Vigge had tapped a cask of redguard wine and was handing around cups. Turning to Baldur, Rebec shook her head. "Well that's that. Not a lick of work will be done on this ship the rest of the day." She was smiling, however, and flushed again rather than pale.

 

"Good, then you'll have no excuse not to sit on your ass like you're supposed to, then," he said as he pulled her to him by her waist. Smiling close to her and ignoring Vigge's presence, he said, "Right, mama Red-Snow?"

 

"That makes me sound so old." She leaned in and kissed Baldur's cheek, then put her head on his shoulder. Watching her crew milling around laughing and drinking, the new ship making its way north towards their home, Rebec impressed the moment on her memory, so that she could always remember what complete happiness felt like.

 

***

 

Since the minute they told Baldur they were close to Kyne's watch, Baldur stood at the rail, waiting for the moment when they'd finally be home on frozen ground once more. Luckily it was a clear day as far as falling snow went in the area, though it was still a bit fogged and the sky was covered in clouds. Yet it wasn't long before he could clearly make out the fort and a few small ships nearby. Those being the men doing preparations for building as Rebec ordered since before they left. Devoid of snow as it was now, Baldur's old officer gear he now wore was still covered in it from a few hours before and was stuck in his bear furs on his shoulder and caught in his hair. Just as it should be.

 

It was early in the morning when they arrived and Baldur hadn't bothered to sleep, figuring he could do that by the time their two ships reached land. Baldur sighed and closed his eyes, taking in the satisfying moment he had been craving since after escaping the harpies, then blowing on his warhorn as signal of their arrival.

 

Rebec had been up for a while already, guiding the ship in towards shore. She was grateful to see that Sigrid had already set up buoys to signal ships where the harbor was, and what to avoid. The site had a good, deep approach, which would be important for merchant traffic, but there were some islands off the coast that needed to be marked. On one of these stood a tall, looming castle. As they passed it, Rebec felt a chill up her spine, though she couldn't say exactly why. The site was long abandoned, so people said, but at least it would give any potential invaders pause.

 

The pier was still under construction, but as the Black Wisp got close, a Stormcloak with a torch in his hand waved it in, and two others appeared soon to help lash the flagship to the quay.

 

When all was set, Rebec met Baldur at the gangplank and put an arm around his waist. "Welcome home, general."

 

"And welcome home, Admiral." Baldur gave an impish grin as he enthusiastically hoisted her up off her feet in his arms, not concerning himself with any protesting she may give him before walking down the plank to finally touch ground. Rebec laughed, a little nervous, and also surprised. In her some thirty years of sailing, no one had ever done that before.

 

A young sailor in Stormcloak uniform waited for them, equally nervous and seeming unsure what to do with the pair. He gaped, then remembered himself and saluted. "High General Red Snow. High Admiral Red Snow. I've been assigned to welcome you to Kyne's Watch. Your quarters in the fort are ready, and I am to show you around the town site and brief you on the status of harbor preparations."

 

If it were up to Baldur, he'd have carried her the whole way just to see her smile up at him like that, but Rebec was no baby, even if she was his baby.

 

He was about to put her down, but at hearing someone else say that name, he paused. Kyne was on decline these days, so it was refreshing hearing the name recognized officially for somewhere by the military. With eyes closed, he sighed and said, "Ahh, doesn't that name just sound grand? Do me a favor, soldier. Say it again."

 

The young man hesitated, then said tentatively, "Kyne's Watch?"

 

Rebec, her arms still slung around Baldur's neck, smiled at him. "She'll have her due here. In storms and blood, most likely." She had had a complicated relationship with her patron, but that's how Nord relationships tended to go.

 

"Aye, that she will. As will the other gods soon enough. I'll give to the new generation what those old wise men of Bruma gave me. A culture of our own." Baldur finally placed Rebec down on her own two feet, then said, "Alright young man, continue with the tour, if you please."

 

The Stormcloak smiled, and saluted again. He gestured for the Red Snows to follow. Casting glances at the pair, he said, "If I may say so, sirs. It's a real honor. I just joined up. Couldn't stay away when I heard the stories about the naval war and the Battle of Pale Pass."

 

Rebec smiled at this, amused to hear that they were inspiring patriotic duty. A year or two ago, she'd never have put herself in that role. "Where you from, Stormcloak?"

 

"Windhelm, sirs. My pa's Kovir Blackbeard. I'm Koljun."

 

"I know your pa. You're a shipbuilder, then."

 

"Yes ma'am. Been on the docks my whole life. I can build other things, too. Construction, woodwork."

 

"We'll need your expertise here, that's for sure."

 

Her crew had already made a beeline for the fort, eager for a hot meal and a warm bunk. Stormcloak banners flapped from the ramparts of the small fort. There was a rowdy breakfast going on in the mess hall. It was a normal fort like dozens of others across Skyrim, except the basement which had been converted entirely to a dungeon and interrogation center by the Thalmor.

 

"We buried the bodies," Koljun explained as he unlocked the torture chamber. "The Thalmor killed most of the prisoners when they realized the fort was under attack. Otherwise this room was kept as it was, just as you ordered."

 

Inside, the walls were streaked with blood and what looked like excrement. Torture implements were laid out, some of them with bits of flesh still clinging to them, the Thalmor torturers apparently surprised in the middle of a workday. Rebec surveyed the scene, then glanced at Baldur. What had gone on here was left to her imagination, but he didn't need to imagine it. Despite that, it had only been days that he was in Thalmor care. Granted, they had dire need for the knowledge he had, and he was high ranking, so things were quite intense.

 

But he was still lucky to have escaped at all, and in one piece. His captor's methods being more sophisticated and not requiring missing pieces. He could still remember the smell of his own burning flesh. Mingling with that of his own urine, and the stench of old blood. He remembered how the white hot heat didn't at first fully register in his mind, and the smell of himself was no different than that of your average cooked beef, except the metallic smell of the blood still in him, unlike with slaughtered cattle that is bled first.

 

Maybe it was justice for those he hurt, though the experience hadn't killed the bit of sadist in him. If anything, it made it worse.

 

"Why'd you have them keep this place in tact?" Baldur asked in a slightly tame tone that was unlike him.

 

"So that recruits like Koljun here could see it. To understand what happened here, and what it means that we reclaimed our homeland."

 

The young man's face was grave. "Yes, ma'am. We'll show everyone who gets assigned."

 

A thought occurred to Baldur at that moment that made him laugh despite himself. "Kyne once showed us the color of blood when it is brought by betrayal. Even more fitting this place has the name that it now does." Perhaps it wasn't the best way to put it, given the Nord's recent alliance, but it was what it was.

 

"And then there's the smell of betrayal," Rebec said wryly. "Pretty foul, that." She nodded at the young recruit and left the torture room. Koljun locked it behind them and led them out of the fort to where the town site had been surveyed, a short distance west of the fort, under the protection of some cliffs. Survey posts and markers were stuck into the icy ground.

 

Pointing, Koljun explained, "There'll be a quay here, too, for smaller craft. I laid out some plans for longhouses near the shore, if that's agreeable with you. Those go up pretty quickly, then you can decide later if you want a bigger place." He gestured at the mountains behind them. "The talk is that the king wants to improve the passes so this can be an alternate trade route out of the Reach. The long overland journey from there is pretty dangerous."

 

"Tell us about it," Rebec agreed. "We couldn't go two paces without some kind of Forsworn ambush."

 

"That should be improving some with this recent war, though the Reachmen will likely never be gone for good. This war in all honesty is simply to lower their numbers for the time of the next Great War," said Baldur. "So I guess we'll be getting the first choice of a house spot?"

 

"Don't think that will be a problem," Koljun answered. "It's pretty cold and remote up here. I doubt there will be a flood of people wanting to settle."

 

Rebec snorted. "Just as well. Milk drinkers need not apply. A longhouse will suit me just fine, til we can figure out where we want to build something bigger."

 

Koljun gestured out towards the sea. "You'll have no end of fish. Best fishing there is, out there."

 

Looking over to Baldur, Rebec asked, "What do you think? Can you see us living here?"

 

Baldur took a while to answer, trying to picture their life out here, with kids playing in the snow, laughing. Having the childhood he never did. "You know, I used to hate the snow. Bruma was always thick with it, and it was as cold as my father was. But now, with a family coming and you to warm up with, I look forward to the chill. We can hunt, fish...have another sauna. It's perfect. I can see us living here if you can."

 

Rebec smiled. "Definitely a sauna."

 

"What's a sauna?"

 

She gave the Stormcloak a wry look. "Youth nowadays. Don't know your own traditions. This is one you'll wonder how you lived without. Now let's get back to the fort. Not sure what I want more, a bath, a meal or a nap."

 

"I say we go in that order. Always easier to nap with a full belly, though I don't really need much help in that."

 

They were the ranking officers at the fort, so the commander's quarters were set aside for them. This was normally a single officer, so it was a bit cramped, but neither Baldur nor Rebec cared since they hadn't slept much on the ship. They dozed on and off most of the day.

 

Rebec woke up first that evening just as the sun was setting. She went out to retrieve some food, and when she came back, found Baldur still asleep. While she sat at the table carving an apple, he made a groaning noise in his sleep. Going over to the bed, Rebec peered across his shoulder and saw that his teeth were clenching.

 

"Baldur." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Wake up, sleepyhead."

 

He didn't stir at first, almost being unresponsive. But eventually his eyes opened a little, then he gasped out strongly, remembering that he was dreaming and being thankful to awaken. He peered at Rebec through slightly throbbing eyes that came from going too long without sleep. "Dinner I take it?"

 

Feeding him a piece of apple, she replied, "It looked like you were having a bad dream."

 

He used the apple to buy him some time, then said after swallowing, "Aye, but it was just a dream." He lifted a hand then towards her hair hanging over him and ran his hand through it, smiling.

 

"Uh uh. Not good enough." She fed him another piece. "What was it about?"

 

"You're the pregnant one, I should be feeding you in bed, not the other way around," he said with a mouthful of apple. He rolled over then and closed his eyes. "I already told you about it anyway. Kyne and Shor."

 

"Again?" She thought back to what he had described. "You're carried by a hawk while a snake tries to kill you. What's Shor trying to kill you for? He'll have to go through me first." Taking his advice and that of her growling stomach, she bit into the rest of the apple.

 

"Well, the hawk was supposed to be you anyway, or at least that's the feeling I got. Who knows, maybe he thinks I'm getting soft. The snake though, it always changes its face to look like pa. Or me. I don't know what it means, it's just a dream, Rebec."

 

"One you keep having." She thought a while, considering what he said about the snake having his father's face. "You still feel like your pa is after you, even after he's dead and gone? I guess you didn't see him when you went to Sovngarde."

 

"Supposedly went to Sovngarde," Baldur said smiling again as he rolled back to see her. "We both start saying that for a fact, and people will think we're crazy. I can believe it, I'm a bard. You have to remain the sensible one. At any rate, I don't know. I try not to think about him, especially now. With everything good that's been happening lately. Sometimes I still hear his voice though, putting doubts in my head. You get that with your ma sometimes, right? Maybe not doubts, but words of wisdom maybe?"

 

"Yeah, my ma was full of those. She's up in Sovngarde making a list of all the things she forgot. I'll have to spend the first two hundred years up there listening to a lecture." Rebec grinned, then bit and chewed. "If you hear your pa talking, you tell him to shut his trap because he's got nothing left to say to us. As for believing your stories, well. I don't disbelieve them. Maybe it sounds like I do, but that's because I take things as they come, true or not. If you say you went, you went. Tamriel's a strange place. I've seen things out there on the waters for sure. I don't mind their business and they don't mind mine. Your problem is that you take all that stuff to heart too much. It's too real for you. I guess that's your bard sense."

 

"I take it to heart to much? I don't know what you mean, Rebby. As for pa, it may be his voice, but that's probably because it's easier to ignore my doubts if I think they're not my own. Maybe that's why I can't tell if the snake's really me or him. Heh, you'll probably look at me funny, but I hear you in my consciousness too, pretty much countering the doubt. Which is I guess why I think you're the hawk."

 

Rebec smiled. "I hear you talking, too. That part's normal. I think." She laughed, tossed her apple core violently toward the rubbish bucket, and licked her fingers clean of juice. "You take things to heart, meaning you actually believe all that stuff and it means something to you. The gods. All those stories you like, even the elven ones, and I'm telling you, those will lead you to no good. I never thought about Kyne being my patron, but it really means something to you."

 

Baldur laughed at her suspicion of elven stories.

 

"You know, I love that about you, your suspicion of elvish tales and so on. Sometimes I'll purposefully spew out some random elven rabble, just to see that face you give. Like you're listening to someone else talk in the background. It's cute. Anyway, yea you're right. I do think they're all real, in a way. Not every detail, but it's a scholarly thing. Somewhere in the middle lies the truth, and in that middle, lies the truth about ourselves as well. These stories, even the Nordic ones have some basis on reality, and we pride ourselves on making things up. Look at Alduin, who the Imperials told us for ages was just our version of Akatosh. I believed in the stories before, but after Helgen, it was different. And Shor being my guide, it means a lot because it helped to think someone was watching out for me even if my mother wasn't. I've felt like it was true all my life. Maybe I had to. But then the Sovngarde stuff happened. And then you. Favored of Kyne."

 

Rebec smiled ruefully, her finger playing through the hair at his temple. "That bitch has been trying to sink me for years. She gives and she takes away. If that's what being her favored means... Anyway, I like that you live in that bard world of yours. I could listen to you go on for hours." Nuzzling her nose against his, she then looked down at him, her smile turning impish. "This reminds me of Fort Neugrad. Our first night together. Ravishing the commander doesn't seem so naughty anymore, though."

 

Baldur too let his eyes wander down to her hanging bosom in her blouse between her admiral coat, then smiled.and said, "I have some ideas that could fix that tonight. You never did take me up on my offer with the rope. Uh, no Justiciar stuff this time, though. Too close to home...so to speak."

 

Going serious again, he said, "About Kyne, she is a mother of tough love, true. She brings the rains in times of misery and in times of need. Just like how it's irresponsible for a parent to spare a child of spankings, so is it the same with the gods and our trials. Even the eastern devils hold to the same philosophy. Some would say that a god's attention is a curse, but look how strong it's made you."

 

Rebec made a noncommittal noise. Standing up, she went back to the table and started attacking a wheel of eidar cheese. "You really believe all that? I don't say what I've done is because of my own work, because my parents put a lot into me. Seems ungrateful to attribute all that to a god and not to them. You saw how we gave offerings and the like, but that was just something we did. I thought everybody did it until I figured out later that we were the odd ones. Me, I was usually thinking about the hot cider mama had left on the hearth for when we got back."

 

Baldur leaned up in the bed, then said, "Hmm, true. Maybe I do attribute more to the gods than I should. But then, it's easy to when the alternative is admitting that maybe my ass hole father had a point. Though, he wasn't the one that put me through the things I went through when I was on my own. But maybe he prepared me for it."

 

Chewing thoughtfully, Rebec said, "Those were good memories, anyhow. Maybe it's enough to do what your forefathers did because it connects you to them. Even if the things they did make no sense." She glanced over at him. "Of course, you can choose to be different than they were, too. Like the way your pa raised you. You're going to be a much better father than he was, even if it means our baby turns out a milk drinker."

 

He hesitated at that, then looked to his feet. "Well, whatever the case, our baby won't be a milkdrinker. Maybe I didn't want to fight at first, but that was only because I already did so much fighting at that point. So the novelty of it wasn't there for me. We're warriors, you and I. Our child will have that raising. Even if there is some singing in between."

 

"My parents didn't beat me, much. And I didn't turn out soft. I guess Kyne took up the slack. Anyway, all this god talk makes my head hurt. I imagine you'll want to have a shrine of some sort here? Like the Skyforge. Write Boldir and tell him he and Carlotta have got to move here because we're making a new Skyforge and there's nobody to work it."

 

Baldur stood then and stretched as he yawned. "Boldir will definitely be coming up here even if I have to get my whole army to bring him. But as for shrines, maybe someone else can do that. My shrine to the gods was and always is how I live my life, and the stories I pass on. That's what the old men in Bruma taught me. That's what they want to see, not statues or shrines. And you know what? You're right. I'm going to be a damned good father. Not because of the gods, not because of Ulrin, but me. And you, of course. I had doubts, but not anymore. I'm going to be a good father for my child no matter what the cost."

 

Rebec put aside her cheese knife and stood to face him. Looping her arm around his waist, she said, "I never had any doubts. Not about you. You got a hardness in you, Baldur, but it doesn't cover over the soft and sweet to me. I'm sure that's what our baby will see, too." She released him, but grabbed his hand. "Let's go for a walk. I want to breathe some frigid Skyrim air after all that desert."

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Eduard, Livia Laenius- Eduard’s Home, Dawnstar, Morning

 

“And you’re just gonna go back?! What, are you just wanting to die in battle?! I seriously. I… I can’t believe you’d do this!â€

 

Eduard didn’t move an inch as Livia continued to fume. Tempers, well more like a temper, had been flaring all morning.

 

“Listen. I don’t like leaving you all here anymore than you. Alright? I’m not doing this just to worry you! But for the first time in a long time, I have both of us in a good home, and a safe place. I feel like it’s time I start letting you live your life the way you want it, rather than the way I need it. Don’t you agree?â€

 

“Like HELL I do! If living my life the way I want to means you’re going to risk your life in the Legion for nothing, then I’m making Jon take me back to the safehouse!â€

 

“You’ll do no such thing, Liv. This isn’t your decision to make. I already sent a letter saying I’m going to accept. Just like you’re going to live your life, I’m going to live mine. I’ll do that however I feel fit. And please, don’t say I’m doing this for nothing, because it isn’t true.â€

 

“Then what?! What are you doing it for! Just enlighten me, Eduard! More money?! It’s always about the damn money. You’ve got enough alright!â€

 

Finally, Eduard had heard enough.

 

“It isn’t about the money this time Liv! Don’t act like you know everything about me when you clearly don’t!†he erupted, as his hand swept all of his journals off the table.

 

And as they fell to the ground, the mood changed drastically. Livia’s body language went from aggressive and angry, to shocked and timid.

 

“Don’t be like that. The point is, I’m not going for money. I’m really not.â€

 

Eduards shoulders dropped, and he began to sit back down again.

 

“I… I. Could you just tell me why?†Livia pleaded softly, her voice beginning to shake.

 

“Don’t Livia. Just please don’t. You want to know why I’m going? Here, see for yourself,†he said calmly, his usual tone of voice beginning to return. He sifted through the scattered mess of journals and papers on the floor for a second, before giving Livia a letter. She took it from him, and began to read.

 

She didn’t look Eduard in the eyes when she handed him back the note from the general. At this point, more than ever, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to make him stay.

 

“I just… when…â€

 

It was Eduard who was now trying to fight down his emotions, though he wasn’t doing his best work.

 

“You see now, I imagine. I wouldn’t leave here just for money, though that will probably be a nice benefit. I’ve been asked by a friend to help. Personally. I won’t turn a blind eye when I’ve got the abilities that he seems to require. Besides… I’ve got Jon to think about too. He’s given up a lot just to help me out. Though I paid him well, and he’s never once said anything to support this, I know him well enough to know that he doesn’t need or want to be here. So, he’s going too. To Cyrodiil, I mean. We discussed it last night.â€

 

“I don’t really know what to say Eduard. When… when are you leaving?†Livia asked, her voice beginning to strengthen. Her tone was still quiet though, and she wasn’t looking up much.

 

“In a couple of days. I’ve got things I need to do first.â€

 

“Right... You probably have to drop this on Karita too.â€

 

Eduard had to do his best not to look completely bewildered.He hadn’t even thought of her when this all came up.

 

Dammit…

 

“Among other things, yes. She’ll understand, right?â€

 

“I’d uhh… bring a shield.â€

 

That wasn’t the answer Eduard had been hoping for. He would get to her soon enough. For now, he had more important matters to attend to.

 

“...Right. Now, unless you’ve anything more to say, I want to get started with my business here. The sooner I get done, the better chance we have of doing a little something on my last day.â€

 

She nodded.

 

“Right. Jon too. I owe him a lot,†she said, as Eduard walked with her to the door. â€œI’m… I’m sorry for blowi-â€

 

“Don’t be. You had every reason to be upset. Just enjoy your day alright?â€

 

“... I’ll do my best. I love you Eduard. I just wish you’d settle down.â€

 

“Of course. Sometimes I do too. I love you too, Liv. Goodbye.â€

 

Eduard gave Livia a hug before they both exited the house, and headed in opposite directions.

 

~~--~~Later that day~~--~~

 

There was an odd sense of excitement inside the Sanctuary, as many of the members conversed with each other. As Eduard walked, he listened to whatever tidbits caught his ear.

 

“You should have seen the look on his wife’s face. The mixture of shock, horror, and sorrow.â€

 

Though Eduard was more than used to hearing his ‘family’ speak of their kills in such a manner, that didn’t stop him from being rather disgusted. The difference between him and the average member was clear.

 

“And that’s when I torched him!â€

 

He then heard a familiar voice, belonging to Jak. He was talking to one of the newer recruits.

 

"It would've been me on that contract in Riften, but they are specifically asking for a mage. Sad. I have many traps yet to be tested on humans."

 

The other assassin didn’t seem all too engaged in the conversation when Eduard glanced at him, right before he entered a small room.

 

“Ahh, Eduard! You wanted to talk?†Nazir said rather loudly, motioning for Eduard to have a seat.

 

“Yes, that’s right,†Eduard replied, sitting down. Nazir was busy looking at the small note Eduard had left him the night before.

 

“What’s this? Moving? That’s a shame, really. Where are you headed?â€

 

“Cyrodiil. Assassin or not, I’m still in the Legion.â€

 

“That is true. Of course, I do have one question to ask you before you go.â€

 

“Fair enough. Go ahead.â€

 

“Will you still be available?â€

 

“Depends. I can’t see why not though. It’s more of an advisory role, my new position.â€

 

“Make sure you find out for sure, and write me… or actually. You can just write the sanctuary leader there! I’d forgotten about them.â€

 

“Right. So, is that all? Not to be rude, but it seems pointless that I came in to answer such a simple question.â€

 

“Rude? No. That’s understandable. But don’t you worry, I wouldn’t have called you in without a reason. There’s a contract that I want you to take. It’s on the way, so it shouldn’t be much of a hassle.â€

 

“That’s fine by me.â€

 

“Good. Here, you’ll need this,†Nazir said, handing Eduard a rather old looking steel dagger.

 

“May I ask why?â€

 

“That’s what you’ll be using to kill your target, of course.â€

 

“... Alright then.â€

 

“See? This meeting wasn’t pointless after all!â€

 

Good to know he saved the worst for last…

 

“... Right. Goodbye Nazir.â€

Nazir was too busy chuckling at his own joke to bother with a goodbye. Eduard just shook his head, and began to head for the exit.

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Tacitus, Maori, Endar, Brutus
Castle Kvatch
Morning 


Tacitus sat uncomfortably in his saddle, his body still not used to having only one hand. It left him unbalanced, and hindered his ability to ride. He could still grip the reins fine, but in the event of the horse running or bucking, his stump provided little comfort. He wasn't a very skilled horseman to begin with, as demonstrated by the race he, Maori, and Gracchus partook in from Skingrad to the capital city.

"So, what do you think of my new toy?" Tacitus asked Maori, referencing his gauntlet. Currently he had the hook on there, as it was the least likely to cause any problems with the guards. "I've taken quite a liking myself, it's like having several weapons in one!" the rest of the attachments were in his bad, should he need them. They connected to the arm via a screw end, that twisted into the gauntlet.

Maori looked at the hook from the corner of his eye and grinned. "It's like all those pirate children's stories. Haha, I should call you Admiral Hook. Now all you need is a talking bird and to paint your ship red or black. Joking aside though, it's a good idea. Hard for anyone to say you're hindered now, I'd bet."

"Hindered my ass. I could do as much damage with one hand as most men could do with three! Now it just so happens I can kick people's asses even easier," Tacitus said boastfully, still carrying himself with the same swagger as usual.

The High Admiral had dressed up, wearing a black naval vest with golden buttons and embroidery, a white shirt underneath, and black pants and boots. He had also elected to shave his head, foregoing his long golden locks in favor of a short cut. His beard now reached to his belly button, with the ends brought together in a gold band.

Maori just smirked and rolled his eyes, then decided to start boasting himself, "Humans and their metal sticks. Nothing beats a well placed arrow to deny even the toughest melee fighter his 'glorious' and 'honorable' death. I could take out three men in one draw of my bow in the time you can pull a swing. What do you say to that?"

Tacitus' haughtiness waned, as he realized the Bosmer was right. Mumbling, he said, "I'll have to get a crossbow attachment then...at least I can whittle a stick without being a sentenced to death in my country..."

Maori realized his mistake in his boasting was that boasting was supposed to be a bit exaggerating. Oops. "Ha, I wouldn't worry about it, I was just kidding. Besides, even a Bosmer force has melee fighters. Can't really take land with a whole force of archers. And an archer's boon is a nice line of brutes to keep the ilk at bay so we can line our shots up in peace."

"So now we're brutes eh? Keep flapping your jaw and I'll show you the meaning of brute," Tacitus jokingly growled, glaring at Maori as he did.

Maori grinned and said, "Well, not as a rule, but armies need their brutes, their grunts. If there's a melee fighter on the ground with real brainpower, they're made captains, commanders, legates, generals and so on. Everyone else, expendable muscle. You say "we" but you're not really one of them. You're not just a soldier. Soldiers are supposed to take orders as best they can and only think on how best to follow those orders and succeed in completing them. You, however, give those orders."

"Don't flatter me, elf. You've for enough brown on your body already for you to be getting more on your nose. I was a brute, hell, the whole Imperial Navy was just a bunch of floating meat shields for the army after the Great War. In Skyrim we died for what, a peace that should've been brokered in the first place had that dumbass Amaund not had his balls chopped off at birth. I'm glad this new blokes got the right of it, actually utilizing us for something, even if it is simple harassment."

"I'm not brown nosing and I don't give out worthless praise. Though I could go back to talking about my Nord friend if you want, hehehe. Just because the Emperor decided to expend you, doesn't mean you were a brute. It just means your leader was."

"That man again? By the nine, I swear if I hear another thing about his snow white Nordic ass, I'll mount yours above my mantle. The late Empress Amaund got his when he died though. Brutally murdered by your own daughter, who's barely an adult? Sounds like a bad book more so than actual events."

"What can I say, it's not every day you know someone famous. And now somehow I know two. A Bosmer with only two hairy ass gargantuan human friends... how did my life come to this, heh. As for Amaund, I'm honestly surprised it took that long for someone to kill him next. I'd have thought his own guard would just throw him down and slaughter him."

"Money boys loyalty. Or at least loyalty until someone else pays more. Though, I doubt it would have taken much longer had she not killed him. He wasn't very well liked, and it was only a matter of time before a general received enough backing to overthrow him. Of course, that likely would have ended in a series of succession wars, which would have been a death blow to the empire."

"Money can only buy so much. Or at least, that's what I would have thought. I guess I'm still naive. Or not. After all, he is dead now."

"And that 'so much' for some men is their loyalty. I can't understand it, as money isn't as important to me as some men, but everyone has their cruxes," Tacitus said, looking off at the crowded street ahead. Mine would have been my family, but that's gone....I'm to broken to have anything held against me now.

"You think you'd have killed him if you had the chance?"

"You're damn right. He was a snobbish prick who deserved to have a blade shoved up his ass and out his chest," Tacitus said confidently, although he wasn't so sure. No one could possibly say with any certainty what their reaction would be once they got in a given situation.

"Hnh, not quite the answer I expected, but pleasing all the same. I'd have ate him. Take it from me, assholes like him and the Thalmor, they taste best. More satisfying. Especially when hunted in the wilds of Valenwood. You can taste the fear in the meat. Or maybe that's just sweat glands."

"Or maybe it's the shit in their pants from knowing a psycho is about to chomp down on tier bodies. I won't ever be able to see how you can stand eating something that could talk. It would creep me out, and give me nightmares even worse than the ones I have now."

"I don't see why. I grew up with this custom, though. We've always eaten our enemies, which means my first kill was served at dinner with my family. And the first person I ate was one of our own. It's just our way. I never thought it was any stranger than eating the flesh of an animal. After all, Bosmer and animals are connected. Some males unlike myself are so ugly that they even look like animals. So we don't see anyone else much different than animals of another sort. Animals talk too, in their own way."

"Whatever your reasoning for it, I still find it disgusting. I'll stick to beef and pork and chicken, thank you."

Maori shrugged and said, "I'm not surprised. We don't do it just because, but now's not the time to go into it. I'm too hungry to keep talking about food. Hopefully this count has some for guests."

"I've heard him called mad, as well as a partier and trickster. Who knows what were in for. I just didn't want to be trapped behind my desk again, and this was the easiest way to get back out into the world," Tacitus said, dismounting in a most ungraceful manner before he gave the reins to a stable hand.

"Mad, huh? So I guess he's nothing like the other stuffy types we've met. I wonder how someone who's supposedly mad rules a city. Place seems okay, though it looks a bit in decline, with all the shacks on the outskirts of town."

"Maybe he's not as mad as he lets on. Regardless, we aren't even here for him, but the Telvanni. I hope he knows what Ceno thinks he does," Tacitus said, as a guard motioned for the pair to follow him.

"Maybe he can conjure me an Imga to eat. But yes, that would be nice as well," said Maori.

***

Inside the castle, Count Brutus was studying once more the book of Shivering Isles from his master. By now, he showed Brutus just about all he could show of the art of illusion, as far as practical uses that he was seeking went. The rest he would need to learn on his own from practice. Now, Brutus was trying to study the art of conjuration, due to the illusion related principles of binding a conjured creature's mind to one's own mind. He was sitting quietly in the middle of his throne floor with his eyes closed, trying to focus on a creature he wanted to summon, then pluck it from the seas of Oblivion.

"Sir, you have guests," said one of the white armored Kvatch guards. Brutus didn't say anything, but he did move his hand to say to let them in.

***

An armored guard, who wore a slightly annoyed expression, came for Tacitus and Maori as they waited outside the great hall.

"Follow me," the man said, "I'd watch your step in there as well, the count can be a...strange fellow."

"Alright. Just take us in before I die of old age," Tacitus said, grumpy as usual.

Upon entry, Maori was already creeped out by the castle. The first thing that got his attention was all the strange paintings of the count on the walls in different posses and so on. One of them had a bunch of naked images of himself attached by different parts of his body. Though thankfully not by one that really mattered. If that weren't enough, he saw not one, but two counts, one sitting on the floor with his eyes closed in front of a book, and also one sitting on the throne. It wasn't until they got closer that his sharp Bosmeri archer eyes realized that the one on the throne was just a painting on cloth meant to look like the real thing upon entry of the castle.

Maori nudged Tacitus and whirled a finger by his head. I think the rumors were true...

It took Tacitus longer than Maori to realize which count was the real one, but once several seconds had passed and the one on the throne hadn't even blinked, or drawn breath, he decided the one on the floor was the real one.

"Count Brutus? I am High Admiral Meridius, here on business of the Empire. Where is Master Drenim?"

"What business does our fair empire have with my master?" said a voice from the side of them. When Maori turned his head, he saw the count once again, walking towards them. The count from before, missing. As well as the book, which now was in the count's hands as he now stood before them.

"What's that all about?" asked Maori.

"Just a training exercise, my little mer." The count gave him a crooked smile. "Now, why does the Admiral of the Navy want to speak with my guest? I take it General Gracchus mentioned him?"

"Precisely," Tacitus growled, his face slightly clenched. He didn't much like being made a fool of, especially not by some snobby politician who had probably never lifted more than his body weight, and who had likely never once gotten dirty.

"My business is with Master Drenim, sir, and not you, unfortunately," Tacitus sarcastically replied.

Sighing, Brutus said, "Sarcasm is so boring, don't you think? It's intention isn't to hide your meaning, but to make it blatantly obvious, then offend because of how transparent the attempt is. Like purposefully not washing oneself, then walking amongst others to offend with one's smell. I can tell despite wearing the illusion of the fly, that you are a humble maggot like myself and the good common folk of the land. So, Admiral. Please try to act the part."

"Maggots? Flies? Acting and parts? Enough with the mad talk, just take me to the wizard. You know, it's your kind that are the actors. Pretending to understand the common folk, thinking you can justly rule them, when you know nothing about how the average man struggles. You sit here in your palace of pomp, flaunting your extravagance for everyone to see," Tacitus said, motioning up the numerous, self-centered paintings of the count.

Brutus kept his smile, and said, "You're right to an extent. I do have this large castle and luxuries while others live in squalor. However, I often host parties where all are invited for free food and drink. Noble and poor alike. And I do tend to give coin away even when sometimes I should not. Perhaps that's another reason why the other counts regard me as mad. Do I really seem that mad to you? Really? Some say that there's method to my madness. I only appear mad to you because I'm more sane than most men. And that, is my illusion. Yours seems to be that you're just a simple man, but that isn't true I don't think. Must take someone special to survive the ordeal that you did, Admiral. Or maybe that's a part of your illusion too, and you're no more brighter than the one over there looking for my food."

Brutus pointed over to Maori who got bored of the talk, but was reminded of his hunger at the mention of maggots. He wasn't at all fooled by the painted cloak over the dining table, and soon found the food. "Hey, there's no meat! Don't you got any chicken, or Imga? Beetles?"

"I know many sane people who do not rely of painted cloth to mask their presence, and that of their food. And I'm no more special than your guards, or the man down the street peddling his wares. I've just been fortunate to be in the right place at the right time."

"Hnh, I'm glad you recognize that, Admiral. And I know of many 'sane' people who murder, steal, and rape, but do so under the guise of a uniform and are called heroes. If all I do is the occasional odd trick or two, perhaps being 'mad' is preferable, no? Anyway, you still haven't said what business you have with my master."

"A uniform does not excuse anything, although some would think it does," Tacitus said plainly. I just hope that same blindness applies to me should I ever need. When I need it, more likely.

"We came to seek the assistance of your master. The nature of that assistance is to remain unsaid, however."

"Then I suppose the nature of his whereabouts is to remain unsaid," said the count, still smiling.

"You are impossible. Why can't you just show me to the wizard, and if he thinks you can assist him then he will tell you. But, my place is to keep it a secret, with orders to only tell those that need to know. And you, do not need to know. You want to know, but you don't need to."

"Let me put it this way, Admiral. Master Endar is a very busy and private man, and doesn't take kindly to being interrupted from his studies. And since a little side project of ours never came to pass, he's had more time for that lately. Anyway, I have the entrance to his room hidden, and the noise in the hallway muffled. So if you wish to find him, my little maggot man..." Brutus suddenly fell forward onto Tacitus under his chin. While there, he made a circle onto the arm with the stump. "you're going to have to play with me a while and tell me what it is that you want him for. It's only polite. You're in my home, after all. Does the Empire no longer trust their own? I said nothing to the pet Thalmor spy that occasionally visits my castle."

Tacitus pushed the man away with his good hand, backing up as he did. His face twisted into a look of disgust, as he thought that the count might be of the...homosexual persuasion. "Fine, just keep your hands off me. We need his help to figure out how we destroy the Thalmor sunbirds. His, not yours."

Brutus gave a fake disappointed look, then said, "Aw, I just thought you could use a hand, is all, hahaha!"

Maori was shocked at first, but when he saw the count chuckling, he started to laugh himself. "Careful there, big man. I think he's just messing with you."

"Am I, mer?" Brutus continued to laugh. He was weird, but not in that way. Though making others feel uncomfortable was right up his alley. "So anyway, Sunbirds you say? If you think that the Thalmor have access to Sunbirds after all..."

"We don't think, we know," Maori said.

"Well, I can see why you want his help then, I suppose. I'll have the guards go and fetch Master Endar, then."

"It's about damn time. And keep your trap shut about my hand, or I'll kick your qu**r, unnatural ass." Tacitus planted a finger in the middle of the count's chest, giving him a stare icy enough to freeze the Alik'r.

Brutus' smile at that moment sunk, for the first time that day. Pointing a glowing finger to his head, Brutus said, "I'd like to see you try that, little maggot. Lets get something straight. You are in my castle, not your boat. In my castle, I will not be disrespected by the likes of one who skips to the beat of a fly in frills. Threaten me again, and I'll send you back to your little boss as dinner for our kinsmen."

While Brutus spoke, Tacitus' eyebrows arched up, in a mix of surprise and approval. A smile replaced his hard set glare, while the rest of his face changed to that of begrudged admiration.

"Hahahaha! Seems "Count Maggot" isn't as yellow bellied as I thought. Good to see you've got some rocks to you. Maybe I was wrong about you. Of course, it could just be another illusion for all I know. Regardless, neither one of us could get away with harming the other, so let's cut the crap and figure out how to stop the Thalmor. We good?" Tacitus offered his hand to shake, but stuck out the hooked hand as a joke.

Brutus' spell dissipated from his finger when Tacitus offered the hook. Looking down at it, Brutus' smile came back just as quickly as it went away. "Hahaha! I'll be honest, the consequences of assaulting an Admiral, physical and lawful...hadn't even occurred to me! Haha, my count days would have been over! Ha, who knows, I could have been executed, that is, if we all didn't end up dead from fighting! Isn't that hilarious?"

Maori's face was blank. "Uh...yea. Hilarious." Humans...

Brutus took the Admiral's han-... hook, then went off, skipping to go and find Endar.

Tacitus walked over to the table with Maori, spearing tart with his hook and chomping down. "He really is just as mad as they say, isn't he? But his food is good so who cares. Say, did you find any meat?"

"No, n-...hey wait a minute, is that what I think it is?" Maori scooped a pie over from the side of the table with greyish green gloop coming through the pie cover's slits. "Wow, I haven't had this since Skyrim! How'd he get it from here? Try some, Admiral. It's delicious." Maori went and dug in to the pie, which was filled with cream, blackberries and blueberries as well as the mysterious material.

"Not until you tell me what it is," Tacitus eyed the pie like it might eat him, and the goo was particularly unsettling.

"It's black and blueberry butter paste pie!" Maori said excitedly with a mouth full of the stuff.

Tacitus narrowed his eyes at the Mer, then the pie, then back to Maori. "If you're pulling my leg, I swear I'll make you eat a knuckle sandwich. Normals pies don't look so gross."

Maori laughed and said, "I eat Imga. A knuckle sandwich would be right up my alley. Here, look." Maori pointed the bitten side of the pie to him. "Okay, so I lied about the name. It's got chicken meat in it, that's that thick white smooth meat you see there. It got that way I'm guessing from the cream he added to it. Then there's the red sauce in it too from tomatoes, peppers, salt and then they add honey. Not a lot of peppers. It's mostly sweet. There's a few carrots and apples normally, but our count seems to have a sweet tooth, so he replaced it with blueberries and blackberries. The goop at the top's just some of that mixed with the cream, and maybe some green from the few peppers in it. Quite the cluster **** of ingredients, but it's great. Like sweet chicken and potato pie. I thought you wouldn't try it since you humans are weird about what you cook with your meat sometimes."

"Tomatoes and honey and chicken and berries? Your taste buds are just as mad as the count. I'll stick to these pastries. Sate my sweet tooth."

"Hnh, I figured you weren't man enough." Maori chuckled to himself and went back to eating his chaurus pie. "Too delicate to handle it anyway."

"Don't try and goad me into eating your nasty minotaur's ass pie. I wonder what's taking the count so long?"

Maori grew frustrated and decided to take things into his own hands then pointed to Tacitus' left. "There he is right there. Don't tell me you've let them fool you again with those illusion tricks." As he looked, Maori picked up a new slice of pie...

"What? No he isn-" Tacitus started to say, before the insect pie was hived into his mouth.

"Gack! What the hell! Is there something wrong with you? Ugh, there's no way that's chicken. Tastes like a gutter rat's toe jam," Tacitus said, scrapping the excess pie off his tongue. "I swear, what is wrong with everyone today? Touching me and shoving food in my mouth...."

"Oh come on! It's delicious!"

Brutus came out at that moment, finally and said, "Oh, I see you found the chaurus pie! Master Endar's here now to speak with you, Admiral."

"Chaurus? CHAURUS? You fed me a bug? An oversized, man eating bug? You're a sick bastard Maori, you know that?"

Turning to Brutus as he downed a glass of water, Tacitus said, "Good. I'm looking forward to it."

"As you should be." said Endar Drenim, as he appeared from the hall behind Brutus. "I'll have you know that I am in the middle of research that is very important for all of Colovia, so it would be preferable if you could make this quick."

"What do you know about Thalmor sunbirds? Specifically their crystalline panels that feed off the sun?" Tacitus asked, cutting straight to the point per the Dunmer's request.

A single eyebrow raised on Endar's forehead. "Sunbirds? They were birds made of sun, used in the Merethic Era to try and explore Aetherius. There are a very few texts that would indeed suggest that they drew power from crystalline panels, but exactly what crystal these panels might have been made from is a piece of information that is as lost to us as the sunbirds themselves."
He looked away for a moment, and spoke more quietly, as if addressing only himself. "Come to think of it, this wouldn't make for a poor topic of research."

From behind the others, Brutus' typical smile started to fade when he heard Endar's comment. But the peculiar and ever chatty count merely stood in silence with his arms crossed.

"From the schematics we received, they seem to be variations of the originals. Their structure reminded me of a Dwarven automaton, but made out of crystal and glass ore rather than Dwemer metal. I am not an expert by any means, however, and as such I sought you out, on General Ceno's recommendation. I am glad to see it interests you," Tacitus noticed Brutus' quietness, causing him to smirk slightly.

"General who? Never mind. I can assure you, anything regarding the-..." Endar paused, suddenly coming to the realization of what he had heard. An uncommon look of surprise overtook his features. "Did you say schematics? For a sunbird? Surely, you are speaking nonsense. Did Venel send you to say this? Or was it one of those Bosmer twins from Anvil?"

"Yes, detailed schematics, but they must be written in an ancient form of the Aldmeri tongue, because scholars we approached couldn't figure out what exactly they meant. All we've deduced is from the pictures and informal notes scrawled in a more recent dialect. And no, I am on official business."

Endar held up his left palm and whispered into it, conjuring up a little translucent blue orb that grew a little larger with every word. When he was finished, he turned and flicked the magical orb back into the hall he'd come from. He turned back to Tacitus as it disappeared from sight. "Do you have a copy of these schematics now? I would very much like to see them."

"For the sake of security, we brought the least detailed one in the group. It appears to be a sketch rather than an actual schematic, along with several nots scrawled all over," reaching into his vest pocket, Tacitus fidgeted around for a few seconds before producing said paper, roughly squarish and appearing to be hastily drawn. Handing it to Endar, he said, "Here you go. Hopefully you can make more of it than we could."

Endar frowned as he looked over the paper. He was somewhat disappointed. It certainly was hastily drawn. That, or the name 'sunbird', and all descriptions he had heard were far from-
Oh.
Endar quickly turned the upside-down sketch over, and it immediately made more sense. What he held was definitely not a schematic, as any idiot could tell. But it was a believable depiction. He'd seen others, and all had turned out to be fakes from poor sources. This one could be real. It was an Imperial High Admiral who had handed it to him, after all. But there was no way to tell without the original dialect that supposedly accompanied the original. If the Empire wanted answers, they should have brought that.

"You called?" Elara, waited behind him.

"Yes." Endar looked back up to Tacitus. "How much would it cost me to have my stewardess make a copy of this sketch?"

"Cost, erhm....what exactly do you mean by cost?" Tacitus asked, first amused as the touted master held the drawing upside down, then confused as per his question.

"Yes, cost..." Endar wondered if the Empire may have hired a dullard in their desperation to fill important military positions. It would not be the first time.
"Cost means price." Tacitus's face gave nothing away, so he continued as slowly as he figured would be necessary. "You see, I want to pay you... with money. I do that in exchange for your permission to redraw this sketch on paper that I own. You get my gold. That's the cost part. And I get to keep my own sketch. Do you follow me?"

He thinks I'm thick? I'm not the one that held the damn paper upside down, Tacitus thought as he glared at the Dunmer, who spoke in the slow, condescending tone. The admiral held his tongue, figuring another near fight would do him no good, and only said, "Of course. But I would prefer if you waited until we returned to the Imperial City to make any sketches. We can't have them getting out."

"This is Master Endar of House Telvanni, we're talking about. Thalmor can't keep up with me, let alone him. If you insist on taking my master away, then you should at least provide some incentive in good faith," said Brutus.

Raising his eyebrows, Tacitus asked, "Saving all of us from annihilation if the Thalmor win isn't enough? I'm sure there will be payment involved, as well as access to all of our knowledge so long as it helps you figure out how these things work."

Brutus' annoyance at his master being taken from him made Brutus show a rare instance of coherence, which only annoyed him even more. "No offense, Admiral, but as a count, I know just how valuable our Empire's assurances are... I may be mad, but I'm not an idiot. There's no harm in a sketch in the hands of one so capable."

Maori said, "Just give it to them. I'll need one myself for when I go up North."

"Hold on a minute! What is all this talk about the Imperial City?" Endar asked the Admiral, now realizing that it may not have been confusion on the man's part as to the definition of 'cost' but as to why he would need to buy a sketch at all. "Are you suggesting that I am to return with you?"

Brutus opened his mouth to defend his stance, but closed it again when he realized Endar didn't know about that part of the deal. It had confused him as to why he wanted his own copy, but he was just arguing to argue.

"That's the plan. For you to come with me back to the capital and research the sunbirds under High General Ceno, myself, the Empress, and the court mage Skjari Snow-Strider. This information be so valuable, we can't part with it lightly, and Kvatch is much to close to the front to risk you staying here," Tacitus said, it dawning on him he had left out that crucial detail.

"Because of this, you will have access to every schematic we received, and won't have to make due with rudimentary sketches from your steward, no offense meant of course," Tacitus said, looking over the girl for the first time to find she was actually quite pretty, but the thoughts instantly racked him with guilt, even with his wife having been dead for many years.

"What you speak of is interesting." Endar admitted. "Sunbird research with actual schematics is an opportunity only a fool would pass up on. However, what bothers me is that you don't seem to be asking. I have important research and experiments concerning this region that I am currently right in the middle of, and do not intend to be bullied out of here."

"If I may make a suggestion, master Endar. I could carry on in your absence. I've gone over your notes and have studied and understood admittedly not most of it, but enough to at least keep it from being idle in your stead," said Brutus. Why, he wasn't certain. Though it was obvious he was leaving anyway.

"Besides, who better to continue the research than one that can look through the mirages such as myself?"

"At the moment? Nobody." Endar turned to Brutus. "But there is much that needs doing that I have not taught you. Especially the fauna research that must be done here. What of the recent imp migration? Or the Collywobbles plague in the local troll population? That one is admittedly my responsibility, at least in part. But still very interesting nonetheless. I cannot leave until my work here is done." He looked back to Tacitus, "Though this sunbird study more than interests me. It should only take a month to finish up here. Three years at the most. Surely you can wait that long."

Tacitus teeth ground like a mortar and pestle, and his cheeks clenched so tight one might have thought they would become stuck like that. "Does anyone in the castle have any common sense? The Thalmor are on our doorstep as is, and if we wait or you to finish your trolls' ass research and imp fondling, then there won't be a Colovia to study! Ceno told me you hated the Thalmor, but all I see is a mer too self involved to open his eyes to the bigger picture. Prove me wrong, and come to the capital, or there won't be a capital to come back to."

There was a drawn-out silence after that. A silence that Endar finally broke.
"Has anyone ever told you that you are an unpleasant man when you're angry? Because you truly are. Your friend, General Cirlo-

"Ceno." piped Elara.

"Celo? He was right when he told you that I hate the Thalmor, but that does not suddenly make me a servant, or even friend of the Empire. If you want my help, it will take more than barking orders at me as if I am one of your dimwit soldiers, or trying to scare me into helping with Thalmor horror stories."

Tacitus took a deep breath, closing his eyes to let the anger subside, an exercise assisted by his counting down from twenty. Finally, he spoke in a considerably less angry, yet still gruff manner, "This war hits very close to home, and it seems my unbridled passion is both a blessing and a curse...it was foolish of me to try and commandeer your services like that. But, the point that time is of the utmost importance is still very true, and I don't wish to dwell on my petty mistakes any longer. Will you accompany me back?"

"Do you truly believe that the Thalmor have sunbirds?" Endar asked genuinely.

"I know they do. I'm the one that got the intel confirming it," said Maori. "Not the notes on it. I did some scouting and spying in Valenwood. Heard enough about their 'secret weapon' and the references to 'birds of light' to know it's true."

"Then I suppose my other research must wait." Endar looked back to Brutus. "I have to admit, I do not enjoy the prospect of leaving your hospitality. You make for far more interesting company than those at the capital likely will."

Brutus lit up from that and gave him a big grin. Though being more interesting than those of the capital wasn't hard to pull off, Brutus learned that compliments from him were not easy to come by. Bowing his head briefly, he said, "My doors are always open for the likes of you and your assistant. I appreciate your help in the understanding of illusions and the others around ours. And of course, finally learning the secrets of... the fishstick!" Brutus triumphantly demonstrated a dance that he was taught by a Mazken after finally forcing her to listen to him after long and extensive illusion training.

"Uhh, wat," Maori said, eyes fixated on the strange sight.

"What in the hell?" Tacitus mumbled, shaking his head as the man strutted around like a seizing lunatic.

Brutus just shook his head with a snooty smile on his face and said, "Simpletons wouldn't understand the many metaphysical applications...of the fishstick."

"Yes, that's it. Not that you're strange," Tacitus added sarcastically.

"Strange is what the prisoners in the cave called the man who dared to step outside..." said Brutus.

"Wha-you know, never mind," Tacitus said, not bothering to fight with the count again.

"So," said Endar, after giving Tacitus ample time to comprehend Brutus's fascinating antics. "Are you the one I talk to about payment?"

"No, I'll let the bureaucrats in the White-Gold handle that. But there will be payment, you have my word."

"Fair enough." Endar turned back to his stewardess, who stood there, seemingly waiting for something to happen as if it was what he paid her for. "Well? Go on! Pack my things! And quickly!"
His hand flashed, and he hit her with a spell to fortify her speed. Elara didn't waste any of the spell's duration with responding, and obediently rushed back to Endar's room.

"Well, I guess this is good-bye for now, Master Endar. As for you all, it was a pleas-, well. It was something." Brutus stuck his hand out to Tacitus to shake. The wrong hand.

Tacitus stuck out the hook warily, still not trusting the count in the least. Shaking it, he said, "It was interesting, I'll give it that."

Brutus didn't give a response. At least not with his words. His smile gave all the response he needed to give. When Tacitus looked down, a charred hand was resting on his hook, which Brutus held by the forearm, and in his other hand was a black and red gauntlet.

Tacitus rolled his eyes at the strange spectacle, not even bothering with words just as the count hadn't. He simply pulled the hook back, dusting off the burnt bits of skin from the steel and quicksilver.

Brutus wasn't disappointed in the lack of the reaction, as he was too tickled from his own joke. "Hehehe, I just figured you could u-"

"Don't say it, I already made that joke," said Maori.

"No matter, then. A hand is all I can actually summon so far of a Dremora." Brutus threw the charred and bloodied hand at Tacitus' shirt, which dissipated on impact. "I wonder if it gets reattached when it goes back to Oblivion, or if the hand just falls next to them..."

***
Meanwhile, somewhere in Dagon's Deadlands....

"Yess....I am back from the glorious waters of OBLIVION! After so long, even for a Daedra! I shall celebrate my return... with a RIVER OF BLOOD AND ENTRAILS... IN THE NAME OF LORD DAGON!! I, Kyluran, shall make all the clans BOW! I SHALL PREVAIL... I... SHALL...KILLL!!! All will quake in fear before m-"

The Dremora Lord's outstretched hand suddenly disappeared in a cloud of purple. Then another came back and his hand dropped into a nearby river of lava that he stood before while yelling at Dagon's stormy skies while standing atop a rock. The hand rolled down the slope, then burst into fire as it sunk below. "Well, ****.... Wait, where's my gauntl-" Another cloud popped out of nowhere and a gauntlet dropped into the river as well.

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!" The Dremora cried towards the sky before jumping into the river of molten rock to go back into the waters of Oblivion to try again.

***

"Hmm, well I'm sure it's fine," said Brutus.

It wasn't long before Elara returned wearing a single backpack. Everything else, she would've used a scroll to give to Endar's packmule Dremora. "That's everything."

"Good." Endar answered, not bothering to check. He knew that by now, she was not likely to screw up easy tasks such as this. "Admiral, I would have a few parting words with my host before our departure."
He didn't bother to wait for an answer, and headed over to Brutus. "Keep the most recent research journal I let you borrow. It should have at least a few of the experiments I won't be finishing towards the back. Send me your results if you have the time do carry any of them out."

Brutus was delighted that he'd let him keep the journal. He figured that would be the first thing he'd take with him. "Of course, I'll have them sent to you every two weeks."

"Good. And I will send you another when this is completed. Thank you for the hospitality, Count Brutus. You are one of the very few men I would truly call my ally. Or friend. Send word if Kvatch has need of me."

"Of course, and let me know if those maggot asses don't treat you with the utmost respect."

Endar simply nodded before he turned and headed over to Tacitus with Elara in tow.

"Let's go Maori," Tacitus called to his friend, then turned to the wizard and his assistant, "Lets go, I would like to try and make it to Skingrad before tomorrow morning. I figure we could stay the night there, then continue on around midday, seeing as we probably won't get to Skingrad before sunset. That alright with you?"

Endar nodded. "That will do fine. I'd recommend the wines there, if you have yet to try them. They are among the best in Cyrodiil."

"Your tongue is more refined than mine, likely owing to my upbringing as a sailor and recent Nordic lineage. I prefer stronger stuff, whiskey and mead and a nice dark ale on occasion. I may try it, as there is no harm in doing so, especially if it is so highly touted."

You should. If I recall right, I met one of my stewards over a bottle of the stuff."

Elara rolled her eyes as she shouldered her pack and headed past Endar. "Visiting Skingrad again will be interesting," she said as the group headed from the hall.

"I've been there too often recently for my liking. I've been on land too recently for my liking, now that I think about it."

***
When the door slammed shut, the involuntary jolt that went up his spine did more to make the count normal than anything else did. That jolt wasn't just the body's surprise to the noise, but the reaction to suddenly being alone. The count looked around, seeing nothing but stiff guards and paintings of himself and suddenly, all traces of mania just seemed to trickle out of him.

The count thought then to what he should do next and figured that he may as well continue to do what he was doing before. The guards occasionally checked up on him to make sure the count hadn't fallen asleep sitting on the floor with his eyes closed like that, but eventually, night fell and most of the guards left, leaving only the skeleton crew for the night shift.

Occasionally one would swear they heard the count talking to someone in the dark long after the fires died out, calling them 'master'.

 
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Wildly-shaped shadows danced across the street, surrounded by a dim orange glow. The dead tree beside the burning general store was the source of these shadows, but it was clear that soon the fires would catch the tree as well, and it would contribute less to the shadows and more to the glow.

K'sirr liked the way the heat felt on his fur, but knew that it was time to leave. To remain was to be caught. Do'Senji had started his side of the building more quickly, but his experience with starting fires was far greater than K'sirr's, what this meant though, was that he would already be heading to the spot. "We do not wait for each other." He had said.
K'sirr fled the burning building just as his own side began to truly go up. As expected, Do'Senji waited across the street, along with M'darr.
"Guards stir now." he said, looking at M'darr with amusement. "It makes it more fun. You should start a fire yourself next time."

 

"Maybe." M'darr said. "But this one does not like how those fires spread. I prefer my fur un-scorched."

 

"We move now." Do'Senji interrupted his thoughts with the one sentence. The older Khajiit did not speak much. K'siir liked that. It made following his lead less complicated.
Quiet as a ghost, Do'Senji set out without looking back. M'darr went next. Still grinning, K'sirr followed. This was his first time participating in a breakout. The prospect left him more than excited. It would be easy, he knew. The foolish half-wits had thrown a brother in the least guarded cells in the city. The fire they had started would be more than sufficient in drawing away the few guards who kept to this particular waterfront. They would have their brother free before anyone knew there was an issue.

 

"So who do you think they put into this prison?" M'darr asked in a low voice, almost being a whisper, just as they were approaching the prison. "I think it's one from Elsweyr."

 

"From Elsweyr?" This was getting better and better. K'sirr had met few actual members of the Krin beyond his present company, and only two had been born in his homeland. "This one hopes so."

 

"Either that or he he's a local who lost his boots." M'darr said half jokingly. "What do you think Senji?" 

 

Do'Senji put his hand on the knob and looked back. "If they are planning on putting him on a ship, he must be important."
With that, he entered.

 

Inside the room were two guards, playing a dice game. One of the was facing them and the other had his back turned towards them. "We're clos..." The guard that was facing said before he looked and when saw who the visitor were, he didn't even get a chance to leave the chair before Do'Senji threw a small knife that buried itself deep in his left eye. The other was chocked at the display of the dead guard's face and when he turned around to see, halfway up from the chair, Do'Senji hit the man in the face with a fist and quickly grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the table. M'darr and K'sirr were to take out any other guards but the rest of the room was empty. So M'darr closed the door while K'sirr looked in the rest of the house but only found an empty hallway with the cell doors lining both sides. 

"No more guards." Said K'sirr. 

 

"Good." Do'Senji replied. He was still holding the guards head against the table, still conscious. Drawing his dagger, Do'Senji held it up very close to the eye of the guard. "Where is our brother?" His voice filled with spite. 

 

"Who?" Said the terrified guard. 

 

"A Krin. He was brought here with a bag over his head." 

 

"Second cell door on the left." The answer came very quickly. 

 

"Good." And with that, Do'Senji drove the dagger deep into the man's skull. A brief cry was heard and then silence. "You two keep watch while I pick the lock. And put out the light." 

 

M'darr and K'sirr both nodded and took positions. K'sirr next to a window while M'darr started blowing out a couple of candles before pouring the water bucket onto the hearth. The room was now dark but it didn't bother their cat eyes. Do'Senji was quick to get to work on the door and very soon he put the lockpicking tools back in a pocket and opened the door. K'sirr kept looking out the window and saw a couple of guards running by towards the fire. Soon after Do'Senji had walked in to get their brother the door slammed shut. M'darr and K'sirr looked towards the hallway and then back at each other. Thy waited a few seconds but when the door didn't open they got a little worried. 

 

"I'll go look if there's any trouble. You stay and keep watch." M'darr then said. 

 

K'sirr nodded and turned his head back to look out to the street. M'darr walked up to the door, his footing being careful like he was sneaking. He knocked on the door. "Do'Senji?" No answer came. He knocked again. "Do'senji?" He said a bit louder this time. But still no answer came. 

 

K'sirr saw a group of people running with buckets passed the house. One of them suddenly turned his head towards K'sirr and slowed down. K'sirr quickly pulled back and pressed himself against the wall, hiding in the shadows. "Come on. Come on. Do'Senji, hurry up." he muttered to himself. He leaned towards the window and peeked out and saw that they all had passed on. He drew a deep sigh of relief and when he heard the door open again he felt glad that they could soon leave. But instead he suddenly heard M'darr scream and when he turned to look he saw M'darr pinned to the door one the opposite side the hallway, with a crystalline spear sticking out of the shoulder. Fear gripped K'sirr and the chock froze him as he just looked at M'darr trying in vain to pull the spear out. Then a black robed man appeared from the cell, the head was hooded so he couldn't see the face from the side. That's when he snapped out of the chock and made it for the door. He quickly opened the door and made a quick glance back inside, just in time to see the man turn to face him. But the man had no face beneath the hood. He slammed the door only to hear something hitting it soon thereafter, like an arrow burying itself into wood. 

The only feelings K'sirr had were fear and that there were something wrong with all of this, but first and foremost he felt a need to get out of there as soon as possible. He turned left and ran down the street a few yards and then turned left again down the back alleys, only glancing back at the door to see it open before rounding the corner. And now barking and growling was heard behind him. The fear of slowing down kept him from looking back to see what was now chasing him. He kept running down different alleys, tipping barrels a few in his wake hoping to lose his pursuer. But it didn't seem to slow them down that much, but it bought him a little time. He turned right, hoping the reach the main street and from there reach the part of the docks where they had stowed away a rowboat for the escape. But as he was reaching the end of the alley and the open street his path was blocked by the robed man with no face. He quickly turned around and ran down another alleyway to his right. There he kept running straightforward, but as he was about to reach another open street, the robed man appeared again. 

He ran down the nearby hallway to the left. Is he toying with me, or are there more? He wondered. And he was still hearing the growling behind him. He soon made another turn and now he could see the docks in the far end. He picked up pace, even though he thought it must have been impossible now. He didn't care about the rowboat anymore and was ready to swim across the river. But it wasn't to be as the robed man appeared again the end of the alley. And this time there wasn't any nearby escape routes. So he stopped for a brief second to think what he would do. The thought of trying to get passed the man flashed through his head. Then it suddenly hit him, the man was just standing there. And the growling behind had ceased. The silence and calm around him all just sent a chill down his spine. And then he suddenly felt another chill along with a searing pain in his back and stomach. K'sirr stumbled a little as he looked down to see the same kind of spear that had pierced M'darr was now sticking out of his stomach. He looked up at the man who was now walking towards him. K'sirr tried took to take step forward. Which took every ounce of willpower he had left. Then he felt the pain from a heavy blow against the back of his head and he felt himself slipping away as his vision turned black. 

 

***

Hours passed, or was it days? K'sirr was unsure how long it truly had been when his eyes finally reopened. When they did, all he could see was darkness. He was standing, arms raised and, from what he could feel, locked in shackles. After a few seconds, his feline eyesight adjusted, and the details of his prison began to become more apparent. How did this happen?
The room was small and bare, save for a dark spot in front of the door opposite him. It took a second, but the details of the figure became more detailed as he stared, and that night's events began to come back to him. The prison attack had been a trap! And the figure ahead...
K'sirr suddenly felt a great pain in his stomach as the realization that he had been pierced dawned on him. He looked up in horror at the monster who sat in a chair across the room. The being that could be in so many places at once. The more he recalled, the more frightened K'sirr grew. No. Show no fear.
He tried, and he tried hard. But having seen what he'd seen that night, there was no chance K'sirr would fool anyone, and even he knew it. His tail quivered and his eyes were wide like moons.
"Where-" he stopped, startled by his own voice, despite having intended to speak. The room was so deafly silent that his interruption of it seemed unnatural. "Where are the others?"

 

"In the cells next to yours." The man replied calmly. 

 

K'sirr's head drooped back down. It had all been a set-up. He knew that now. Wherever he was, it was undoubtedly far more secure than the shack he had been caught breaking into. He silently cursed himself and his companions for falling into what was, looking back, a very obvious trap. Now, his arms were shackled tight, and he was at this strange faceless man's mercy. Why does he just stare? K'sirr wondered. The figure was not talking to him. Just watching, as if K'sirr was expected to initiate any interrogations himself. He would oblige.
"Who are you?"

 

K'sirr saw no reason to give his real name. It would only make him easier to find if he ever got out of here. "This one is Shassiri."

 

"No. It is not." The man rose up from the chair and took a few steps forward. He clutched his hand into a fist and held it close to K'sirr's face, but he did not make himself ready for a punch but instead opened the hand. And in the palm of the hand lied disgusting worm-like creature, with a large round mouth filled with rows of tiny sharp teeth. Despite the creature lacking eyes, K'sirr could feel like it was watching him with hunger in mind. "Now, what is your real name?" The man asked.

 

"K'sirr!" he answered immediately. Keeping the secret wasn't worth whatever that thing would do to him.

 

"Good." The man withdrew the hand a few inches but still held it so K'sirr could see it. Then he removed the hand, but the worm was still lingering, hanging in the air in front of K'sirr's face while the faceless man sat back down in the chair. "Now what are the names of your friends?" 

 

K'sirr knew how interrogations went from M'darr, and he knew that this was about as easy as it was going to get. He had no desire to rat on his brothers, but as he'd just realized with his own, names were nothing. The man would get them from the owners themselves if not from him. "Do'Senji and M'darr." At least at least this way, he didn't end up with a worm eating his insides.

 

"That is correct. And I don't think I should need to explain why I know that. But lets continue. Where are all your hideouts located?" 

 

That made K'sirr falter. "The hideouts?"
He did not even know where they all would be. Only a few. Do'Senjir would know more, but K'sirr doubted that he would tell. It made K'sirr feel guilty. Do'Senji would die before betraying them so, and now he was prepared to do just that to save his own fur. He figured that perhaps a middle-ground could be reached. He could tell of the smallest hideouts, and no more.
"K'sirr knows of only two. One can be found in Redwater Slough to the northeast. The other is K'sirr's camp, south, near the bay."

 

"You don't know any more?" The worm got a little bit closer and even tried to lash out at K'sirr but missed by a mere inch.

 

K'sirr gulped. One more cannot hurt. "This one has just remembered," he said slowly, "there is another at Water's Edge."

 

"Maybe you could remember one or two more?" The worm got closer and this time it could reach the nose. It stared nibbling but did not sunk it's teeth into the flesh. 

 

K'sirr jerked his head back, pressing it against the wall and turning so as to put as much distance between himself and the worm. Still, it moved closer. "Undertow Cave!" he shrieked, then immediately hated himself for it. Undertow was the first name that came to his mind, and a home to many brothers, even if he did not know most of them. He knew he had made a mistake.

 

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" The worm floated back while lashing almost furiously at the denied meal. "Now how about contacts working in the city?"

 

"There are two known by me." K'sirr said, ashamed. "Sholani and Zajjan."

 

"Already have Sholani. He was actually the bait for the trap. Anyway. Got any more? And you need to be more specific than just names." 

 

That took K'sirr by surprise. They had done all this for the sake of Sholani? This news made the defeat feel even greater. It had not even been for the sake of a fighter or leader. Just a commoner who only helped in the smallest of ways.
"Zajjan works at the chapel. She is a healer there, and sometimes hides brothers in the undercroft."
Giving up Zajjan seemed like so little after Undertow, but K'sirr knew that it was low to do, and that she would haunt him along with the rest. It couldn't be for nothing. He'd already cost the Krin so much for his own sake, and he did not even know if he would survive. No more until it is known.
"Will K'sirr leave this place?" he asked. "You nearly know what can be heard from me."

 

"Maybe. I'll tell you when we're done. Any more than Zajjan?" 

 

"No more until it is known." K'sirr repeated to himself, this time aloud.

 

"Known if you're allowed to leave?" The man asked, sounding a little confused.

 

K'sirr nodded. He would not tell everything he knew just to die here.

 

"I will go and look for these people and places. And if I find the information you've given me to be to my satisfaction, you will be allowed to leave."

 

K'sirr was skeptical. "Swear it by your gods."

 

"If I'm satisfied, you will be given the option to leave. You have my word for it. And may I be eaten by Akatosh's children if I break it."

 

K'sirr was satisfied. Though, he had never heard of Akatosh having children. Then again, K'sirr had trouble even recalling the names of all nine Imperial gods, so he was far from a good authority on the matter.
"Zajjan lives at the northernmost side of town, in a nice house her family has had for generations. She has no mate and no litter, but there are often brothers there to fill the quiet."

 

"Any more contacts in the city? And what about contacts outside the city?" 

 

 

"There truly are no contacts in the city that I know of." K'sirr spoke the truth. To his knowledge, only a small amount of the Krin in this city actually knew more than a few. "But outside, there is the Khajiit town of Borderwatch. Many there are brothers, or help us all the same."
K'sirr knew it was over for him as a Renrijra Krin, but perhaps he could escape to Elsweyr when this ended. He could begin anew as a farmer, or a bandit. Whatever it took to survive.

 

"Any names or other specifics about Borderwatch?"

 

"They scare easy." K'sirr said it from experience. His one trip to Borderwatch had been brief, but he remembered doors shutting at the sight of an accompanying brother's large pet hound. He remembered because the idea of Khajiit being frightened by dogs like common house cats had disgusted him.
"And there is one their named Bhisha. This one as met him. Others too, but their names are not known to me. Bhisha could tell you."

 

"Hmm. So anything more you feel like giving up to improve your chances for leaving?" 

 

K'sirr racked his brain. There were still quite a few hideouts that he knew of, but the man seemed content in that regard, and K'sirr didn't want to give more information than he had to to satisfy his captor.
There had been an elf. The Altmer woman who had come to him with plans regarding the riot starting. He had been skeptical of her on account of the lack of fur, but the plans she had given him had made sense, and only benefitted the Krin. That was over a year ago though, and everything she had given him had long since been accomplished, but to K'sirr's knowledge, no other members had met the elven woman.
"There was the elf." he said, thinking that maybe this interesting bit could peek interest. "This one knows nothing about her, but she gave K'sirr riot plans, and they were carried out. Why she would do this, K'sirr cannot say."

 

"Interesting. But well, that only confirms a suspicion I've had. Unless she can she can identified and located, that information doesn't help you that much. And you really sure you can spit out some more information?" The worm disappeared in a small black cloud. And the cloud lingered in it's place and soon a flood of several other disgusting creeps started spilling out from the cloud onto the floor directly in front of K'sirr, from where they headed straight for K'sirrr's legs. 

 

The hair stood up on his back and neck as K'sirr frantically began stomping. He felt a sickening crunch under his right boot, and then another under his left. But before another could be squished, two more had slithered up his right calve. K'sirr kicked out and shook them off, then he used all of his strength to wrap his arms around their shackles and lift his feet from the ground.
"Stop!" he shouted. "What more is there?!"

 

"More of anything really. Hideouts, contacts, suppliers and such. There's always a few drops left to squeeze out." The faceless man said, still disturbingly calm. And the creeps now started to crawl up the wall. 

 

K'sirr was helpless to keep away the creatures, and so he did all he could do.
"There is a lodge in the woods to the south! About a mile! And in the abandoned f- Ahhh!"
K'sirr nearly bit his tongue when he felt a sharp and sudden pain on his raised left leg. One of the creeps had managed to clamp onto him, and it's many razor-sharp teeth were now digging straight through fur and flesh. "FORT NOMORE!" he cried out as another of the creatures latched onto his right thigh.
"Please!" Another sharp pain, this one on his ribcage, the creep having easily eaten through his shirt. He screamed, "Onyx Caverns! That is all! This one swe- AHH!"
The creatures were swarming K'sirr now, and he could even see tiny lumps in his own flesh where they had buried themselves inside him. They were INSIDE him! "And Rockmill! Rockmill is the last of them! There are no more!"

 

"I guess that about covers it." The faceless man rose up from the chair and in the same instance the creeps disappeared. "I only needed some confirmation on what Do'Senji have already told me." 

 

The realization of what he'd just heard hit K'sirr like a hammer. Do'Senji... All of what he had told, the man already knew. This had been for nothing. A faint "Oh" was all K'sirr could manage to say in response as a wave of nausea took him.

 

"Cheer up. You still have a chance of being released." And with that said the man pushed the chair out of the way so he could open the door and then took it with him as he left and closed the door behind him. 

 

"Two thousand five hundred and seventy seven. Two thousand five hundred and seventy eight. Two thousand five hundred and seventy nine..."
K'sirr heard a loud crash outside his dark cell, as if something metal had been dropped. He frowned and went back to his counting.
"Two thousand five hundred and seventy nine. Two th-... No. That isn't right. No!" he shouted and flung his empty water jug into the darkness. Even with his cat sight, he could only see the shape of it striking, but there was no problem hearing the ceramic jug shatter.
"How is K'sirr ever to know now?!" he wondered aloud. He had been wondering aloud a lot in the past few days. Or had it been weeks? It depended on how often the man came and brought him his meal of stale bread and water. After the time before, he had taken to counting, so that he could use it to tell how long it took between meals. He had failed that time as well.
K'sirr crossed back to the wall he had originally been chained to. He still wore the shackles, but at least they were no longer attached to the wall. He extended one sharp claw and carved out what was supposed to be a human, then proceeded to scratch all over it.
"When K'sirr is free, they will pay. Especially the liar! K'sirr will find the brothers and we will throw all of the humans in this city into cells. And feed THEM to bugs! Yesss." K'sirr let out a dry chuckle at the thought of it. He could see it now, that dark figure crying out as his own creeps tore into whatever was under the hood, and the guards, and the count, and all the others died in cells like he was destined to.
That last thought brought K'sirr out of his dream. It was never to be. The hooded demon was a liar, and he the only one who was going to die in a cell was him. He should not have done as he had. It was the violent life he lead that brought K'sirr here. He wished he could escape. Not to get revenge, but to do things differently. Take up a religion, perhaps? Become a servant to gods? That sounded nice. The ones at the chapels and shrines always seemed so happy. But just as with the revenge, he knew it was never to be. K'sirr began to weep.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but K'sirr awoke to the blinding light from the open door. He shielded his eyes as a guard who was not the usual one to feed him ussured in two more figures. They wore shackles, like him. And had tails and fur, like him. They were brothers! K'sirr sat up in the corner and watched the guard shove the pair of them in. He waited to see what they would say.

At first the two new cell mates didn't speak but just sat against the wall. After another minute of silence one of them spoke. "So how did you get caught?" He tried to sound a little cheerful, like if it all were just a joke, but the attempt fell flat. 

 

"This one was caught trying to break out an imprisoned brother." K'sirr tried not to seem happy that they now shared in his poor conditions, but speaking to others was one of the things he had missed most.

 

"Well, we were taking a nap in Undertow Cave after a small raid. And next thing we knew; guards were swarming in along with some robed faceless freaks."

 

K'sirr felt a fresh wave of guilt. It was his fault. The demon man was a liar. He never let him out, and Do'Senji never spoke. Do'Senji was no coward. He would never give in. Like I did.
"This is sad news. Undertow was home to many. It was a faceless man who caught this one as well. You say there are more?" The thought frightened K'sirr.

 

"I didn't see exactly how many, but I'm pretty certain there were at least four of those freaky magic users." 

 

"Four?" K'sirr did not like the thought of that at all. Where were these strange beings coming from? He had seen nothing like them before his capture. "That is a lot. Did no one escape?"

 

"I don't know. I hope so. I got disarmed and knocked out. They were keen on taking prisoners. When I woke up I was bound and had a blindfold and was told to get up and walk. When the blindfold was removed I was in a cell like this one. Was interrogated by a couple of guards. Got a good beating. When that was over I was thrown into a cell with my friend here. Then the guards came and took us out. Said they needed to make room for some non Krin prisoners. Tossed us in here as you can see." The khajiit lightly elbowed the other one that had been sitting quite still since he arrived. "Isn't that how it all went?" The first Krin said, trying to sound cheerful again. 

 

 

The second one flinched at the touch of elbow. "Don't touch me!" He almost shrieked out in a mix of fear and panic. 

 

Sighing the first khajiit turned back to K'sirr. "He's been like that since we got separated. Anyway, my name is Ja'virr. And my strange friend here is Renji." 

 

K'sirr looked from one Khajiit to the other. He wondered if Renji had suffered the same fate as he had. Would he have acted the same way so soon after the torture? Probably. Even the guards bringing his meals had frightened him at first. They all could have been the faceless man. There was no way to know.
After a long silence, he realized that his own name had gone unsaid, and that Ja'virr seemed to wait for it. "K'sirr."

 

"If it had been under better circumstances I would have said 'well met', but seeing another brother in here isn't exactly good sight." He sat quiet for a moment. "I wonder how long we'll have left in this cell. I don't want to be a downer but you should at least try to enjoy what little time you got left. If there's enjoyment to be found in this dark abyss."

 

What do you know of the darkness? You have seen two minutes of it. K'sirr didn't answer at first. He only glared at his fellow prisoner who still had hope in him before leaning back against the wall. Finally, after a long pause, he gave his answer. "The only joy to be found here is in your dreams."

 

"You're probably right. Might as well take a nap." Ja'virr turned to Renji. "You could probably also need a nap, Renji." And with that Ra'virr leaned back his head against the stone wall and closed his eyes. 

 

K'sirr waited for a while, eyes closed, but awake. He waited until he was certain that both of his cellmates were asleep. He knew Renji was having the nightmares by the way he muttered and occasionally kicked out. It had been a lie, and K'sirr had known it. There was no joy to be found in the dreams. Not anymore. The faceless man haunted those as well.

 

****

 

Some time later, a few days, according to Ra'virr who claimed that he actually managed to keep track of time, guards came into the cell and took both Ra'virr and Renji away and left K'sirr alone. A minute later the door opened and a man stood in the doorway. The blinding light from behind him made him look like a shadow. But from the outline K'sirr could see that he had no hood on and had shoulder long hair. But the voice made it unmistakable on who it was.

"I almost forgot about you. And I will keep my word. So you got two options: One; you go to the block along with you're friends and the end will be quick. Two; you are brought up to the block before the execution and all the names of those who you helped catch are announced. I'd be surprised if you make it to the city gates before some Krin supporters out for revenge or some humans wanting to do some punishment on their own get their hands on you." 

 

Some time ago, K'sirr would have been angry by the betrayal, but he had long since come to terms with the fact that he would never escape, and that the man was not going to keep his word. This opportunity was more generous than he had expected. Very generous, in fact. Soon, he would be outside!
"This one chooses the second option."
He would make it. No matter what this man said. He would escape north, and reach the Imperial City. And he would never see the Krin or this demon man again!

 

"As you wish." The man disappeared from the doorway and soon a couple of guards came in and picked K'sirr up. 

 

K'sirr made no effort to struggle, and cooperated as he never had before. It didn't stop the guards from shoving him at every turn or stop, but he had no intention of giving trouble as they marched him through the dungeon passages. The sweetness of freedom was too close to ruin now.

 He wasn't sure how many halls or rooms they passed through, but it was enough to tell K'sirr that he was deep underground. When they passed through the last door, and finally emerged into the warmth of day, K'sirr had never felt better. The light was nearly blinding at first, but the heat on his fur was wonderful, and his eyes quickly adjusted. They continued further, leaving the castle behind and pushing him on north. One of the city's large bridges was crossed, and soon a hundred voices could be heard echoing in the distance. They were gathered for the executions.

 

They passed several more blocks, more guards joining their entourage as they did, and upon rounding onto a final street, K'sirr could see the crowd. There were many humans, those Khajiit who watched mostly kept to their own group in the back. Before all of them, on a high wooden platform, was the executioner's block. A tall Nord with a large axe stood up top, and several dozen Khajiit prisoners were all lined up in three rows behind him. Guards were everywhere. What caught K'sirr's eye most, however, were the two big barrels beside the executioner. He felt sick as he realized that they were for heads. This is my fault. He realized, as he was marched up the platform steps. K'sirr could not bring himself to meet his doomed brothers' and sisters' eyes, but he knew that every one of them would be watching him with hatred. "This one should be dying with them." K'sirr muttered silently. But it was too late for that. He deserved it, for sure, but that could change. He had not given so much up just to die now. He would leave and be free. If he did enough good in his new life, perhaps it could make up for this betrayal. That was how the gods worked, right?

 

"K'sirr!" A short, bald Imperial man came from behind him and walked to the front of the platform. His voice boomed over the audience. "Unlike many of your brethren, you have sought to go down a different path, the path of morality! The Nine reward those who atone, and serve them in their actions, and our Empire is no different." The crowd was hushed now, and he looked out to address them. "This Khajiit has, despite all pressure from his faction, taken the high ground, and served the Empire greatly. For he revealed to us the locations and names of those who would destroy us! In doing so, he saved more lives than even he could imagine-" 

Lives I never will know. K'sirr thought. Traded for those of my brothers.

"-As Lady Mara forgives us, we too must forgive K'sirr! In the name of the Empire, all past transgressions you have committed are now forgiven."

 

K'sirr glanced out at the crowd. There were some smiles among the humans, but many looked far less forgiving. Among the Khajiit, there seemed only to be malice. Even those not in the Krin found it hard to respect one who would betray his people in an obvious attempt to save his own life. K'siir diverted his eyes to the ground. This time tomorrow, it will all be behind me. He clung to that thought as the clerk turned his attention to a long list of names in his hand. It was time for the executions to begin.

As the clerk read the first name, K'sirr was led down the platform and a guard removed the shackles. "Get out of here. Unless you wish to stay and watch" The guard said spitefully. 

 

K'sirr needed no more urging. He wanted no more part in any of this. The moment the guard finished talking, he was gone, leaving behind the crowds, the guards, and the Renrijra Krin. The ex-con smiled as he had never smiled before as buildings and people flashed by. They'd want him dead, but he would give them no change. He was too fast, and would be out the gate within the minute. And then he'd be away from this conflict forever.
He could see that gate was open as he approached. Whatever guards would normally be there must have been assisting with the execution, save one tired boy atop the wall. This is it! he thought excitedly. He closed his eyes and grinned widely as he passed under the archway. Unfortunate, because this left him blind and powerless to the fist that struck him in the right temple.

 

"Get him!" K'sirr heard a voice say. Then before he could recover from the blow he felt hands grab around his arms, furry hands with claws scratching deep into his flesh. But he could not scream as a gag was stuffed into his mouth and beeing bound to his head. A dirty piece of cloth that tasted like filth. "Really thought you could get away?" 

K'sirr opened his eyes but was seeing stars for the first few seconds before he could make out his attackers. There were three Khajiit standing in front of him, in addition to the two on his sides, holding him firmly by the arms. 

NO! K'sirr struggled against his captors. He'd gone so long now and survived. He had done too much to just let these Khajiit get the better of him. He jerked his head and managed to ram back into the one holding his gag. Rather than shouting out, K'sirr used this moment to bite one of his restrainers' wrists, chomping hard, and tearing back a chunk of flesh and fur. He spit it out and extended his now-freed hand's claws. Before he could lash out, there was a boot on his gut, and two more blows struck his face. And then the gag was again covering his mouth.
His eyes slowly came open, again seeing stars, but he still struggled. It was no use, however, as the Krin had him well pinned by now.

 

"Arrgh! Bastard bit me." The bitten one said, quelling his voice to not alert the guard above. 

 

"Don't worry, he'll pay for that too." Another said. From the authority in the voice and being the one that had ordered the others to get him, K'sirr assumed he was the leader of the gang. 

 

They started to drag K'sirr off and when he finally stopped seeing stars again he could see they dragged him closely alongside the wall. K'sirr tried breaking free again but this time the held him even more firmly and also gave him a punch to the gut to calm him down. When they rounded a tower they got they got out of view from the gate and road. Those carrying him then pressed K'sirr and his face up against the stone wall. 

He felt a hand grab the back of his head and pulled it back. The Khajiit who did it looked at him with spiteful eyes. "We don't like traitors. You turned against your own people. Your family. And thanks to you, we're almost exterminated. Those who you sold out may get a quick death today. But not you." K'sirr's face was then rammed into the wall. Just enough to cause pain but unfortunately not enough to knock him out. 

Then he felt a hand grab his tail and he knew what was about to come next. K'sirr tried to shout out, but the gag prevented it, and just a few seconds later, he felt the cold bite of steel on his tail.

"MMMPH!" Tears soaked into the fur around K'sirr's eyes as he tried to cry out. He felt them being wiped away, only to see that the tool used for the wiping was his own disembodied tail.
Next came his ears. The Krin thugs whispered insults and taunts as the knife shortened his long, pointed ears to bloody stumps. He barely took notice of what they were saying, the pain and sudden dizziness overruled all else. Two of them seemed to be debating something, but K'sirr couldn't tell what. Finally, they hoisted him up to his knees. Will I go now? K'sirr wondered, as he had ever since the faceless man originally made his promise. Will I be free?
And then they cut his throat.

 
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Palace of Kings, Windhelm
morning

Veleda winced slightly as the flute hit a sour note, but she quickly put her smile back on. Sofie sat on the mat before the fire, playing a tune on the little wooden instrument that one of the servants had whittled for her.  Both of them, the queen and the war orphan, had books spread before them and had been studying when they agreed on a music break. As the fairly mangled tune came to an end, Veleda clapped enthusiastically, then called Sofie over.

The girl leaned against her, and Veleda put an arm around her. "I have something to tell you, Sofie. I believe I have found a family who is willing to adopt you. Clan Shatter-Shield, do you know them? Tova is a good woman, and they lost their own daughter..." Her voice trailed off as Veleda saw Sofie's stricken expression.   "What's the matter? I thought you would be happy. I'm so busy and not able to look after you properly. This would be a chance for you to have a real home and family, Sofie."

"If that's what you want, Your Majesty," the girl said, close to tears. She reverted to Veleda's title, though she usually called her by name.

Veleda sighed inwardly. It had been difficult to follow through on her plan to find someone to adopt Sofie. She was indeed more busy than ever, but looked forward to the rare quiet moments such as these. With Menel gone and her kingly husband still a stranger to her, Veleda had appreciated the girl's company.  "Are you saying that you want to stay here? Even though you only have the servants for company most of the time?"

"It doesn't matter what I want." Tears still shimmered in Sofie's eyes, but her voice reverted to the hardness and hopelessness that it had had sometimes at first.

"It does matter," Veleda insisted softly. "Tell me."

Sofie looked up at her, and her tone turned pleading. "I want you to be my mother."

The queen sat stunned. She hadn't suspected such deep feeling. "I didn't know you felt that way. But Sofie, it... it's complicated."

"I know. You're the queen, and I'm just an orphan. I know I can't really be your daughter, and you need to have real children, the king's children."  Sofie's face fell, and she appeared as forlorn as Veleda had seen anyone.

The fact is, though neither liked it, what the girl said was true. Ulfric had never been happy about her rash decision to take the orphan in. At the time, the only important thing had seemed to keep a child from freezing and starving on Windhelm's streets. Veleda hadn't thought about what came after, still less about complications for the succession. If she had still been only a soldier, her duty would have been clear, she'd have given the girl a few coins and gone on her way. It was the promise of power as queen that had made her think she could just wave her hand and make things better. Maybe it had been the most important thing to give Sofie a full belly and a warm place to sleep, but it was clear from the little girl's face that it wasn't the only thing.

Sofie's eyes raised again and her face brightened. "Wait!"  She ran to her pile of books and pawed through them until she found one and brought it back. The title read Skyrim's Royal Lineages.  The girl flipped through the pages, searching. "Here it is!  Queen Freydis. She had seven natural children, but this one... uh, Thorald Stone-Breaker, he's called 'ward of the crown.'  He was a great stonemason and builder. Ward, that means someone who's not her real child, she just took care of him. And you have Queen Freydis' sword!"  The implication was obvious in Sofie's hopeful expression.

Veleda regarded her, weighing this. Finally she said, "If this is what you really want, then I'll speak to the king. I can make no promises..."  The last words were cut off, since Sofie had flung herself into Veleda's arms.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!  Thank you!  I'll be a good ward, I promise, and I won't make any trouble when you have children of your own!  Maybe I can help you take care of them."

Hugging Sofie to her, Veleda laughed, though the girl's words stirred a vague unease. "One thing at a time, young miss. Now back to your studies. I'll look in on you later."

This wasn't the only important matter Veleda had to speak with Ulfric about.  As Sofie returned to her books, the queen picked up the scrawled note she had found stuffed under her door that morning.  It was a list of several of the "Draugr Dunmer," the battlemages who had served so well in the conflicts at Rommulas and Falkreath that there were very few of them left at all. Of those, some had returned to Morrowind already. The names on the paper were among those who remained still in Skyrim. At the bottom of the unsigned note was scrawled one word:  SPIES

 

***

 

"How many, Galmar."

 

"You won't like it."

 

"I know. How many?"

 

"One hundred and fifty, just about. All in a night. It's not a lot all things considered with recruitment. But it's an embarrassment. Weapon shipments stolen, then used to ambush our men at night. The town is theirs, but even with the people slaughtered, it can be repopulated. The Forsworn are in decline, but they're not going without a fight. Should I get rid of the reports? Try to hide the loss?"

 

Ulfric scratched his beard as he eyed the marks on the map in his war room. "No. In fact, spread the news. Let our people know how our kinsmen were shamed. Work it to our favor to boost recruitment even further. Eventually, the Forsworn won't even be able to sneeze without a Stormcloak hearing it. We'll hinder their movement with numbers of angry Nords looking for revenge. It's all we can do with an enemy that fights the way they do."

 

"I agree. I'll send a message to Brund."

 

"How is he anyway? Has he given a personal report? I'm surprised you haven't gone to assist him."

 

"He hasn't said much, he just gives reports on the war. I offered to assist, but he's made it clear that he wants to handle this himself. I see no reason not to grant him that," said Galmar.

 

"Well alright then. Keep me updated."

 

Veleda came down the stairs and into the war room, not surprised to find Galmar there. He saw more of Ulfric than she did. "Galmar." She gave him a friendly smile. "Working hard as always. Is this a bad time?" The latter was directed to Ulfric.

 

"Not at all. Galmar."

 

"Aye, Ulfric. Queen." Galmar nodded with a fist to his chest to her after giving her the formal greeting, then departed. After Galmar left, Ulfric turned back to the Queen and made his way back up the stairs, not wanting the sound of the conversation to carry.

 

"So, what's this about, Veleda?"

 

Trailing, she answered, "A couple things. We should speak privately."  When they were in his chambers, Veleda took a deep breath and said, "I told you I would find a good home for Sofie when the time came, but she wants to stay here. I think we should adopt her formally as a ward of the crown."

 

The king gave an involuntary sigh, then said, "Veleda...we talked about this before. This girl is a distraction. We've beaten around the bush on this topic long enough. The king and queen are required to provide an heir of their own blood. The girl is not a replacement for that."

 

Veleda bristled at the patronizing tone, but forced herself to stay calm. "She wouldn't be, and she knows that."  Briefly the queen explained about Queen Freydis' ward, and couldn't keep a hint of pride out of her voice when she went on, "Sofie found that example herself. She wouldn't legally become your heir unless you choose to make her one. I'm trying to give her a home, not shirk my duties."

 

Ulfric listened carefully to the account and considered the implication. With the war coming up and the Forsworn war going on now, perhaps people had better things to do than to worry over the specifics of whose blood was whose. "I'll need to talk with Sofie alone first if I'm to consider it. I suppose a place holder wouldn't be the worst thing, with rumors of spies about and reports of assassination attempts on the Empire's latest chair warmer."

 

"You think that is a real danger here?"

 

"Always, as long as the Thalmor remain. We'd be fools to think otherwise, even now."

 

"I suppose you're right. I've expected it myself, honestly, even before this. The Thalmor do not forget." She paused. "You're willing to consider it, then? About Sofie? She's in my chambers if you want to speak with her."

 

He paused, as if to reconsider, but before too long, he said, "Give me some time. I'll approach her myself. Within two days, I'll speak with this g- Sofie. I have a lot on my mind at the moment, however with choosing an ambassador. That should take precedence."

 

"Don't delay, Ulfric. The girl has put her hopes on this." She didn't often call him by name, more often saying "Your Majesty" even after they had been married for some weeks. It had slipped out this time, but the familiarity still felt strange. Using his words as an out, she went on quickly, "Who are your candidates? Someone from the military, maybe someone who could turn this young empress' head?"

 

Ulfric noticed the name drop, but it hadn't made him as uneasy. He had a pit in his stomach almost every time he heard her call him "majesty". This was supposed to be his wife after all. So far, he wasn't sure she was happy with the arrangement. "I've got a choice of one of my commanders or some lad from the Bard's college. He sent in a resume of his credentials. You can look it over later if you wish. He's Cyrodiil born, like yourself. Not many other choices." Not that I looked all that hard.

 

"I'll do that. Thank you. And... thank you for talking with Sofie. I trust you'll be gentle with her, even if you decide against it. I think she's afraid of you, but like a good little Nord, she'll try not to show it." Veleda smiled and turned to leave, then remembered the note. "Oh, there is something else." She took the slip of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. "Someone slid this under my door overnight. I recognize the names. All Dunmer, battlemages for the Grim Ones."

 

Ulfric took the paper, as if it had an insult to his mother on it, then handed it back to her after reading it. "The Grim Ones? Really, now. Well those are Baldur's men, so if anyone's going to review them, it should be him. However, I highly doubt anyone in the Grim Ones is a spy. Dunmer or no. The fact that they were specifically targeted is too suspicious. See if you can look into who the note came from. That's who I'd be more likely to assume is a spy. Especially since they knew the names of all of the Dunmer still with us."

 

"I'll try, but our security is not exactly high here. We should consider posting more sentries in the quarters wing. I've been studying ward technology, as well, if that's something you'd consider."

 

Ulfric's nose twitched at the mention of wards and he moved his mouth to object at first. But, Wuunferth was just lecturing him the other day on useful applications of magic that he shouldn't hold his nose up at. Sighing, he said, "If it'll help catch spies...then fine. Do whatever. Just don't blow us up." He said this as if it was in fact a possibility. "Oh, and thanks."

 

"Don't worry, I'll keep it subtle." Veleda smiled wryly. She turned to leave, then turned back again. Her mouth opened, fell closed. She moved as if to turn once more, then stopped. "I... this..."  Gods. And I'm known for my speeches. She tried again. "I'm careful to make no demands on your time, Your Majesty, but I think we might make a point to have a meal together at least several times a week. What would you say to that?"

 

"Do me a favor. Stop calling me your majesty and you have a deal." His face was stone at first, but then a smile suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

 

Relieved, Veleda laughed. "I'm not sure I've ever seen you smile. You should do it more often. Thank you...  Ulfric. I think it will go a long way towards building our partnership."

 

"I smile all the time. Just when no one is looking. Comes with not wanting Galmar and the Red-Snows to know I find their stupid jokes amusing. Galmar knows better, though. And maybe that kid I put in charge of my military, which is probably why they all still do it. Anyway, I agree. About building the partnership, I mean. Veleda. Though you should take your own advice on the smiling. You have a nice smile." Brilliant.

 

"I do? People in Cyrodiil used to say I was... what's the word. Intimidating. I thought that was just that I was taller than most of the men. At any rate, I'll let you get to it."

 

"Take a compliment, Fire-Hand. You were intimidating because you were surrounded by milkdrinkers." Ulfric moved then to leave the room. After opening the door to leave, he turned around, then said, "See you at dinner," before finally closing the door.

 

***

The Black Wisp pulled into Windhelm as an icy rain slashed its decks. Some unloading and loading of ships was going on, but anyone who could was huddled under eaves trying to keep dry, or better yet, around a fire indoors.

 

Rebec noticed that there were new quays being built, stretching out along the edge of the bay, and a shanty town was forming on the slopes outside the city walls. On the docks, people said that it was people seeking work in the new capital, and some refugees fleeing unrest in Cyrodiil. There was only so much that the ancient city could absorb within its walls. The rest would have to cling to its skirts.

 

After Rebec had seen to the offloading of her cargo, fought over it with the customs officials, and got it warehoused for sale later, she grabbed hold of Mazoga. "Don't go too far, Maz. I'll want you to come up to the palace after I see to a few things. We should get you formally declared as a naval officer."

 

The orc appeared surprised, but before answering, her eyes shifted to someone standing behind Rebec. It was Sigrid, the vice admiral. The blonde woman smiled briefly before assuming her sober expression. "High Admiral, welcome back to Skyrim. We have matters to discuss."

 

"Hello Sigrid. Always matters to discuss. Good job with the preparations at Kyne's Watch. The rest of it will have to wait until I've reported to the king."

 

"I understand." Sigrid shot Mazoga a sharp glance before withdrawing.

 

Baldur was standing at the docks, waiting for his men to come off the ship, which was just as well, as they were waiting for the same thing and eager to be seen returning home with their leader, even though they were a few less in number. Heavy footsteps were heard and they soon swallowed him up as they surrounded him to keep away civilians and nearby Stormcloaks looking to speak with the couple before they left. The Necro Nords had grown a bit arrogant in their service and status.

 

Baldur could already see Thrice-Pierced waiting for them, having been alerted as soon as their ship was spotted, though he soon walked off, probably only showing up to confirm they arrived. Baldur looked around for Rebec and Mazoga, then waved the two over when he spotted them. He skipped breakfast just so he could have plenty of room for Ulfric's food and he was in a hurry to fill up.

 

"Excuse me while I pull the daggers out of my chest," Mazoga was saying as they walked.

 

Rebec had been thinking about how her naval uniform didn't come with a slicker. "Hm, what? Oh, you mean Sigrid. Don't mind her. She's a bit tightly wound, but that's what we need in this navy. Someone to crack the whip."  She smiled as she saw Baldur, and reached for his hand. "Let's get out of here before someone else wants to talk to us in the rain."

 

"Feels a hell of a lot better than a sand storm though," he said as he whipped his long wet hair to the back before placing his Stormcloak officer bear head on for warmth. Ysana caught up with them as well, shivering of course and using Baldur's cape from his armor to cover herself over her robe again.

 

As expected, the entourage of silver and black armored soldiers wedging through people attracted eyes from all around, though most of them went back to doing whatever it was they were setting out to do before, the Nords being mostly unhindered by the freezing rain.

 

Baldur saw more foreigners around than he had before from Cyrodiil, even within the walls. He could already see an Imperial merchant arguing with some Nords as they passed by, but about what wasn't really clear. It seemed that they were just harassing him to harass him. Things would get worse before they got better, it seemed. Sometimes Baldur wondered why it was that he liked the city. Maybe because the ugliness in it was easier to ignore within the castle. Still better than Solitude, though.

 

A voice calling out cut his thoughts short when he heard someone call his name, but he couldn't see with all the Necro Nords around. He heard one of his men say "Out of the way, kid", and he knew then who it was.

 

"Let him through!" Baldur said angrily. The surprised Nords looked at him briefly with puzzlement before stepping aside to let him pass. Before he could say anything else though, the boy came running past them and seized the general around his stomach.

 

"You're back!" said the Breton boy, who to Ysana's surprise was wearing a Stormcloak uniform.

 

"Hey, Daric! You've gotten a bit taller! And your voice is a little deeper too, I see." The boy soldier cleared his throat, then backed up and saluted him.

 

"Uh, yea, I guess so, heh." His hair was soaked too, but Baldur could still tell that it sort of roughened up a bit, less soft. He realized he forgot to greet Rebec as well and quickly straightened up again. "Uh, good day, High Admiral Rebec."

 

"Well, if it isn't the little scrap of Breton that beat up on the big Nord." Rebec punched the boy's arm playfully. "You're not getting any whore money out of us today, kid. Not until I sell off our cargo anyway."

 

Daric's eyes widened, but his hair covered his brightening cheeks. "You told her about that?"
 

"Baldur, what's she talking about?" Ysana said. She was a Dibellan, but they didn't take in boys his age.

 

Baldur squeezed Rebec's hand, then said, "Uh, nothing ma. Just a little joke. Anyway, why don't you come with us? Don't worry about your Captain, I'll straighten it out later." Baldur ruffled the boy's wet head, then put a hand over his shoulder as they walked, knowing that Daric would have already said yes at the opportunity to tag along with his teacher again.

 

"Is Windhelm always this ugly?" Rebec asked. "Guess it looks better in the snow. And with fewer beggars." She pitched a few coins at these as they passed.

 

"Wait for me!" Menel came huffing up behind them, his arms laden with parcels.

 

Rebec gave him a once-over. "You been shopping already, elf? You know you'll get plenty to eat at the king's table."

 

"These are for later. Can't be too careful."

 

"Ain't that the truth..." Baldur glanced over at one of his men carrying his things, where he packed in the last of Menel's sausages and blamed it on the sailors. Hehehehehe.

 

Daric caught Ysana giving him a weird look on more than one occasion, which made him uneasy. Ysana finally piped up and said, "Baldur, who's the Breton? You didn't dally with a Manmer, did you?"

 

"What? Oh, no it's not like that! Daric is my protege. He got in the Stormcloaks because of the militia from Falkreath."

 

"Ah, I see," she said.

 

"What kind of priest are you?" asked Daric. Baldur tensed a little at the question, but he didn't say anything. Ysana laughed to avoid it feeling awkward, then whispered to Daric and said, "Dibella." Daric's hair once again covered his blushing cheeks.

 

Rebec laughed at his discomfort. "That's right, boy, one of those. Part of Baldur's recruitment scheme. From now on, you'll have one weekend a month of Dibellan training."

 

"Dibellan training?"

 

Ysana answered, "Back when I was an active priest, we'd give visitors looking to learn lessons on how t-"

 

"Ehem!" Baldur interrupted the conversation with a loud throat clearing, which caused some of the Necros eavesdropping to snicker until they saw Baldur's glare. "Enough of that. Now in you all go."

 

"Can I get in on that deal, too?" Menel asked as they slipped through the heavy doors of the palace.

 

Rebec just laughed in reply. Inside, they were met by the queen, who strode forward and gave her second a bear hug that lifted the Bosmer off his feet.

 

After releasing Menel, Veleda turned to greet the others. "You all are a sight for sore eyes, even dripping wet. Come in and sit. I want to hear all about your trip." She looked back at Menel, trying to gauge how his presence on the ship had been received. The Bosmer just shrugged his shoulders and hurried off towards the banquet table.

 

The men all departed to their wing of the castle to rest, and put Rebec and Baldur's pack in their room, looking longingly at the table that the others were taking their seats at. Just when Baldur was about to move to sit, Ulfric and Galmar came out of the war room. "Rebec and Baldur, good to see you both! I thought you two decided to stay for a minute, there." Ulfric and Galmar greeted them all, giving Rebec and Baldur hugs before everyone finally sat down. Baldur already scarfed a piece of pork with his gauntlet claws behind Ulfric's back while he was embracing him.

 

Baldur sat next to Rebec while Mazoga was to her right and Galmar was next to him, across from Menel, Ulfric and Veleda. Ysana and Daric sat closer to the end of the table.

 

"King and queen to greet us, well don't I feel special," Rebec said as she sat down. "Is this how they do things in the Imperial City, Majesty?"

 

"How should I know?" Veleda answered with a smile. "It's not like I was ever invited to White Gold. You aren't just common visitors, though. The king is right, I was worried about you. Did all go well with the redguard?"

 

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. We lost good men and are lucky to be back alive ourselves. But we got what we went for, more or less."

 

Baldur said, "Took a little convincing with a side of blood and a little magic, but Stros M'kai, territories under Sentinel and the Alik'r are all on board with our alliance. Even more, they're going to support Skyrim as the lead of it. The other lands will likely fall in under these three main locations. We'll have to send some people to deal with the specifics of giving them Dragonstar. Details, details."

 

"Magic, eh?" Veleda glanced at Menel, who was busy stuffing his face.

 

Rebec added, "We thought the Dragonstar bit, and Elinhir as well, could better be handled by someone going overland from Markarth or Falkreath. Those cities should have better trade ties anyway, and they can, now that we aren't fighting over the border lands. Do well to have overland trade routes besides Pale Pass. Who knows what'll be happening down in Bruma from one day to the next."

 

"Yes, I've already had to order the men there to restrict the flow of travelers to keep so many Cyrodiilic citizens from leaving the Empire and coming in here from Bruma." said Ulfric. "I'll have some commanders cross the border to deal with Dragonstar and the Nord citizens there."

 

"Yes, I figured we could get the Redguards to allow them to stay, and if they want them to leave, they could compensate them to do so if they wish. I'll send a small force there to make sure our kin aren't bullied into doing so until we officially hand it over."

 

Ulfric nodded, then said, "Good. Rebec, are the improvements to your naval port in Kyne's Watch to your liking? It'll be the port to the vanguard of our ships when the inevitable comes and we move to dock in Stros M'kai."

 

"Sigrid's done a fine job so far. We'll need lumber, stone and laborers. The town will pay for itself eventually, of course. What we really need is leadership. Baldur got me thinking about it, what with just me and Sigrid in charge of everything, and a navy being so spread out like we are. We need to build up the middle ranks. Already got the people, they just need the authority."

 

"Right, you need officers. Like the military's commanders. Men and women that are already trained and can help train the others. That is what you mean, yes?" asked Ulfric. "You're the High Admiral. You can appoint whoever you wish. Your authority within the navy is no less than your husband's in the military."

 

"You'll need more money," Veleda added, interpreting between the lines.

 

Rebec nodded. "Like I said, it'll pay for itself later. In the navy moreso than elsewhere. You pay good people well, you get less corruption and fewer wrecked ships."

 

The queen glanced at Ulfric. Whether it was needed or not, their treasury was strained and in need of better order. The silver that wasn't going to the empire any longer could only be divided so many ways, and there were too many hands in the pot before it even got to Windhelm. "We'll see to your requests," she said, turning back to Rebec. "In fact I hope we can start sending our payroll and tax shipments with the navy. Too many of them get 'lost' on the way to the Reach."

 

"I'd look to the Silver Bloods for that, Majesties, not just the Forsworn. You've got to get those bastards in hand. Begging your pardon." Rebec wasn't one to shut up, but she knew even she had boundaries.

 

"I don't think it's them. That's the type of thing I sent my men to stop in Markarth in the first place. If there was anything like that going on from the Silver-Bloods, my guard Captain there would find out. But I'll have him look into it anyway, just in case." Baldur added.

 

Ulfric was pondering the issue with the money still. It wasn't like it was in the civil war anymore, where he could operate half off the cause instead of gold and silver. "The only thing I can think of to make this happen quicker is to take some funds away from the military to compensate for this new payment. Otherwise, you'd just have to wait until this town of yours starts... 'paying for itself.' Or at least for the war in the Reach to be over."

 

Baldur said, "I can manage that, Ulfric. If you just shave off some from the top of what you're already paying the soldiers, you won't have too much to worry about. There'll be grumbling, but most of the men fought in the war, so it'll still be better than what they were getting. The sailors are getting closer to that, and it's a newcoming force. They need it more. We were paying them what we were to simply boost recruitment anyway."

 

Rebec studied this exchange dubiously. "Shipping is expensive, majesties. And high risk. We'll need a better plan than this long-term or captains are not going to happily throw their ships into a fight. It was different before, when we were blockaded. Harder to send men to fight for Hammerfell or Cyrodiil."

 

Baldur said, "Well Rebec, this is at least a good starting point. The navy's not going to get everything overnight. The military started off small and as a militia, working off of dirt pay, no offense Ulfric. They'll get theirs, but they'll have to wait. Our soldiers sacrificed a lot for much less. I know sailors don't operate that way, but that's just how it is. They're not opportunists and merchant dealers making shady trades anymore. They're military."

 

Ulfric cut in and said, "That is true, but we've all sacrificed, and Rebec does have a point. However, this isn't a fight for Hammerfell or Cyrodiil. This is a fight for Skyrim. You'll get your money for officers, but it will have to wait, at least till after this skirmish with the Forsworn is over. Skimming off the military's pay will do for now, as a show of good faith and things to come. But the fact of the matter is I'm already putting in much for the navy's ships and now this new naval base. A lot of those ships are mine, including yours, Admiral. For now, appoint who you will to officer spots and they'll start getting slightly increased pay. Until I can afford to offer more...that, the honor and the cause will have to be enough for now."

 

Rebec shot Baldur a look. She didn't like being reminded that her ship wasn't her own anymore. To Ulfric she only said, "We'll do our best. I just hope the Thalmor aren't in a hurry, either. You should know that the Bretons are fighting again. Or should I say, still. No offense, Daric lad."

 

Daric's eyes popped up, going alert at the mention of his name. He wasn't expecting to be mentioned while talking with the king and queen and he honestly would have preferred it that way. So far, they hadn't noticed him, but now their eyes were set right on him. The High King of Skyrim himself and his new queen. "Uh, no problem. I was born here, so I don't mind."

 

"Who's the wet pup?" Galmar said, piping up for the first time now, too busy eating.

 

"My assistant. I have a lot of things to sort through, I assume. I could use an assistant," said Baldur. "He's a good lad. Stronger than you think. Heh, ask Brund." Ulfric didn't say anything, but his comment reminded him of Sofie again.

 

Rebec gestured with her fork. "You should've seen this wet pup take on a Nord twice his size and three times as ugly. This one's got heart. And I'll say the same for Menel here. He did well, Queen Veleda."

 

"Did he?" Veleda beamed, and turned her gaze to the Bosmer.

 

Mouth full, Menel said, "Thu flook shurprised."

 

"I think Baldur might owe him his life. At any rate, the two of them got separated from the rest of us and had quite a time of it."

 

"What's that? How did that happen?" Galmar asked, curious to how their general owed his life to an elf.

 

"Where the hell were your men, Red-Snow?" said Ulfric.

 

Baldur raised his hands in defense and said, "Hey, hey! We got ambushed in a sandstorm by sand rats and harpies. Me and Menel got taken away. Menel and I forced our captors to land. He used magic and I as usual put my mouth to good use. Afterwards, Menel healed me and took the bone shards out of me from the harpie I landed on and we walked back. Oh and he killed some other harpies while I was unconscious from the crash. Rebec found us just in time. It was close. We were about to give our last stand from another Ra Gada attack."

 

Rebec added, "The desert is like Skyrim only backwards, hot and dry instead of cold, but just as harsh. We were out there like babes in the tundra. My niece almost died. I think she did die, actually, but she's stubborn and came back. Menel helped her, too, after. He was dancing with harpies when it first happened."

 

"Does this mean you'll take battlemages on your ships?" Veleda asked.

 

"No. No way."

 

The queen frowned, and Menel started to protest, blowing crumbs across the table.

 

Rebec wiped saliva-laden crumbs off herself and said, "Of course I'm taking battlemages, silly elf. I'll instruct the other captains."

 

Chuckling, Veleda said, "Well alright then. You can't have Menel again. Not for a while. He needs to work with some of our green troops."

 

Baldur said, "If it's all the same to you two, we don't plan on going anywhere to require that anyway, at least not in the near future. We have... plans."

 

Veleda lifted a brow and glanced at Ulfric, wondering how he would take his commander dictating what his next assignment would be, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Menel making a "fat belly" motion. Fatter than his own, that is.

 

"Ah, I see," the queen answered, understanding. "Our High Admiral has a new boss. Congratulations, both of you." She fidgeted, glanced at Ulfric again, but said nothing more.

 

From the side, Daric had moved his lips to say congratulations, but then a thought dawned on him that made him change his mind and stay silent and crestfallen. Ulfric said, "We all go where the cause calls us. But congratulations to you both." He added a brief smile to his words at the end before it faded away. Baldur didn't bother to argue with him. There wasn't a chance of them being needed elsewhere likely and he didn't much give a damn. He put a reassuring arm around Rebec's shoulder and continued to eat.

 

"You've still got an admiral," Rebec said quickly. "It's not like that. I suppose there are some things I won't be able to do, but we've got time for that yet." She glanced at Baldur and smiled.

 

"All the more reason to get the officer corps built up," Veleda said, standing from her place. "Friends, I've got a practice to run, but I'll see you later. High General, there's something I'd like to discuss with you in particular." The queen bowed her head farewell, shot Menel a grin, and left.

 

"And so here it comes," Galmar said. "Do not think you are too high to come crashing down, High General."

 

Ulfric stood from where he was, then said, "I figured this matter would come up eventually, but I hoped it would still be a time yet. I know you two are duty bound Nords. But a child changes a lot of things. Doesn't it, Ysana?" Baldur's mother looked up from her plate in surprise, as did Baldur.

 

"Indeed it does, king," she said.

 

Ulfric nodded, then spoke sternly, his eyes narrowed on Baldur. "Right. Anyway, I know you'll say you will do your duty, and I believe you when you say it. But, I'll say this regardless, since I know your husband better than he thinks I do, Rebec. As long as you are called a Stormcloak, you will go where I tell you to go. If that is a problem, then remember that no one is above charges for insubordination. Am I clear? We may be friends, but I am still your King."

 

"Clear as crystal, Your Majesty," Baldur said with a straight face. The fingers of his arm around Rebec crossed where he and Galmar couldn't see, but the others could.

 

"Good. Now, all that aside, I am proud of both of you and you could use a break from long trips. I'll take that into consideration. I have another matter to discuss with you two as well as the queen, but it can wait for now until you've had your rest for the day."

 

Rebec looked from Ulfric to Baldur. The king's warning was harsh, and she didn't know what he meant about knowing her husband better than Baldur thought he did. People were wandering off or going back to eating, so she leaned in to Baldur. "That went over like a corundum balloon. Is he thinking he ought to have chosen Brund?"

 

Baldur watched as the king walked away and Galmar moved to go into the city. Baldur shrugged and said, "If that's the case, then he's free to do so. I don't need to have this position, he needs me to. Unless he really thinks Brund or Galmar can hold the confidence of the other nations as lead general and pull off what you and I just did in Hammerfell. No, Ulfric was just flexing his muscle as head bear is all. There's not much going on that would require us to leave Skyrim anyway, short of Thalmor attack. Morrowind isn't likely to get involved in this war as they're still busy with the An-Xileel. I'm not worried."

 

"Alright then. You've had more experience with kings and commanders than me. This shouldn't be so hard. The early Nords had babies, even the warriors. Rebec the Red, with all those husbands, she must have been popping them out all the time."

 

"Indeed. We'll be fine. Now, you continue to fill that belly. I've got to go see what it is that Veleda wants. Daric!" Baldur planted a kiss on Rebec's cheek before getting up. After hugging his mother, he and the boy made their way back into the bleak city of Windhelm.

 

 

(to be continued)

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Windhelm (continued)

 

 

Fire-Hand was headed out of the city towards Morvunskar. She had learned early not to conduct practices in public. The Palace of Kings didn't have a private courtyard, and the sight of mages casting spells upset people. Two Grim Ones bodyguards trailed her.

 

When she saw Baldur and Daric, she slowed her pace. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt your meal. But it is probably better we address this sooner rather than later." Veleda took the paper from her pocket and handed it over to Baldur. "Someone doesn't like your choice of allies. These are Draugr Dunmer, correct? Could the suspicion be true?"

 

Baldur moved to grab the paper, but Daric took it first, then handed it to him. Baldur took a few moments to look over the names, then unceremoniously tapped it to Daric's chest to hold. "This isn't anything new, Veleda. I had people in the streets spit at me for this same thing. Most of the grumbling died out after reports of the war got out and they heard of what they did in Pale Pass. Who gave you this list? Names of the Grim Ones isn't common knowledge, as they're a small force. Let alone a handful of Dunmer under my personal command. If they were spies, they picked the wrong force to spy on. Being the vanguards of any conflict they're involved in and all."

 

"It was put under my door. It is probably one of your own then? One of the Grim Ones, perhaps, who isn't happy about non-Nords in the force. The fact is, spies have to be a concern of ours. Several people were removed from the court already, Brunwulf Free-Winter the most prominent. Did you know him? I take it that people believe Ulfric and I will react kneejerk to any such accusation."

 

"Brunwulf? Ulfric removed him from court? He's no friend of the Stormcloaks, but that is a bit much. He came to me a few times thanking me for not giving Dunmer the cold shoulder. He isn't a friend of mine, but I know better than to think he's a spy. I'm aware that the Thalmor have a long reach, but Dunmer and Imperial supporters, those are distractions. If any of my men have been trying to make me kick the Dunmer out on suspicion, then they're no better than the actual spies they accuse the Dunmer of being. I'll find the culprit. In fact, I'll address it today. I've got a plan."

 

"He was implicated in some of the activities of this... Sons of Whiterun faction, here in Eastmarch. I believe he's gone to Bruma. I wonder if we aren't exporting problems that will come back to bite us one day. If I can be of service in your plan, let me know. My plate is quite full these days but Ulfric's philosophy is my own:Take care of your men first. And few are so important to Ulfric or to Skyrim as you and your wife."

 

"Ah, well that I can believe. There's always the chance that the Empire is still keeping eyes on us as well. At any rate, I'm going to address the men now. I'll contact you shortly once I have."

 

Baldur and Daric set off then to go about the task of finding the list maker while Rebec was dealing with her second.

 

Whether or not the person was a traitor, Baldur didn't know. He suspected that the man was simply a racist, which wasn't anything new to be certain, but he couldn't rule out the possibility. He called all the royal guard of the palace to the throne room to collect their signatures, saying that he needed a list of their names because he was going to switch out a fourth of the men to be sent elsewhere so they all didn't get lazy standing around all day.

 

Daric helped collect the signatures by handing out ink and parchment, then Baldur had him give all the signatures to Veleda to examine in conjunction with the list of names. Thrice-Pierced was ordered by Galmar to keep a list of reports and happenings in Skyrim while they were gone, so he made sure to offload the large book of loose papers on the High General, happy to finally be rid of it.

 

Baldur had Daric once again reading the reports to him before he finally had the lad go off to bed, sharing a room with Sofia. He was just about to head off himself before something in the throne room caught his eye. "Hmm, Ulfric left his crown in his seat. That's rather careless of him. You, guard. Go off and take that to the king, will you?" The Necro Nord saluted Baldur from his seat at the dining table, then moved to go about his task.

 

However, Baldur suddenly stood up and said, "Wait, I'll do it. Hand it here." The Nord gave him an uncaring look and gave him the relic before going back to his spot. Baldur made his way to Ulfric's room, but after passing his bedroom where he guessed Rebec was by now, something stopped him in his tracks. It was a feeling he got when something inspirational hit him, like an idea for a song. A funny feeling in his groin like excitement. And it was this feeling that made the impish Nord smirk with delight when an idea crept into his mind for the Jagged Crown. Baldur then ran off to a dark part of the hallway and took out his small container of blue paint from a pouch on his belt, before finally going to his room with the jagged crown.

 

He stepped into the room, eyes darting around to see where Rebec was, holding the helmet somewhat behind him so she wouldn't see, and then sliding it under the bed before sitting with his list of reports, not paying Rebec any mind for the time being while he read.

 

She sat looking over the list of navy auxiliaries, moving around bits of hard candy which she was using to color code different ranks. "This is going to be a nightmare," she said absently as Baldur came in, not paying any attention to his mischief. "I've sailed with all of these people for years. Competed with them for contracts. Now they're going to say I'm either betraying them or playing favorites, depending." Distracted, Rebec glanced over at Baldur. "Did you find your culprit?"

 

"No, not yet. Veleda's going to examine the handwriting first and give me her opinion. I would, but I'm too close to this. Too close to my men to give it an honest look. So she's an unbiased opinion. As for the sailors, well. That's politics. Which unfortunately is the other half of our job. Though admittedly, I deal with it less than you likely will. Though I do have some reports of people accusing me of using the Grim Ones to bully the Silver-Bloods in spite, and they are strong supporters of us, but Ulfric told them he stands by my decision to replace their guard captain with my own. It's more control than the High King of Skyrim has exerted on other holds in the past, but this is in a lot of ways a new nation. Fragile. It needs the extra guidance for now."

 

"We don't need any more problems with the Dunmer than we already got. Though you have to consider the accusation might be true." Rebec stood behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "I know you wanted to go to Morrowind, too, and I had other sailing plans for us. Guess that will have to wait now."

 

Baldur made himself ignore her touch and continue to read reports as he talked. "I would have loved to go to the land of the Eastern Devils and send you running mad back to Skyrim from all my heretical devil-talk, heh. But this is just fine by me. I'll keep in mind that the accusations could be true, don't worry. At the end of the day, man is man and mer is mer. Though the Dunmer have disliked the Altmer of Alinor as long as we have."

 

"When they weren't hating us." Surprised that he stayed all business, Rebec leaned down and nuzzled his cheek. He couldn't pretend not to like that one though, so he chuckled and said, "True," then nuzzled her back before going back to his notes, his face sobering.

 

Rebuffed- even if gently so- Rebec stood and wandered back to her rosters. She was bored with them, however, and drifted over to where she'd dropped her axe belt, deciding to polish her weapons. Occasionally she would glance over at Baldur, expecting him to soon tire of his work, too. When he didn't, she gave an audible sigh and stood to get ready for bed.

 

Not even that moved him. He always stole glances at her undressing, even if he wasn't helping. Frustrated, she crossed over and pushed him hard on one shoulder. "What's so fascinating in those reports that you'd rather look at them than my naughty bits?"

 

"Hmm? Oh, I- It's just war reports on the Forsworn. I was just thinking Brund wasn't going about it in the best way. Sorry, I'm just tired. Do me a favor and put this in my pack over there so we can go to bed?"

 

Grumbling, Rebec took the stack of reports and glanced through them on the way to Baldur's pack. Brund was as brutally efficient as expected. "Looks like things are going well," she said, studying the papers, her own thoughts returning to serious matters. "How many more Forsworn can there be? Even if they breed like rabbits, there has to be an end." She bent down and opened Baldur's pack, grimacing at the smell of Alik'r sweat that still clung to it. Even if it was dirty laundry smell, it reminded her of Suri.

 

Still pondering, Rebec stood and turned. She stopped short at the sight that greeted her. "Gods below. Is that...?"

 

The sound of Baldur snapping into an apple filled the room, then soon after he said, "Mmmm," in satisfaction as he stood with a foot on the bed, wearing nothing but his officer kilt and the legendary Jagged Crown. His chest and abdomen was covered with swirl patterns like his cheek, as was his arms and his legs in spots that Rebec couldn't have seen before due to being covered by his clothes. "It is indeed, my queen. And tonight, Ulfric is no longer the king of Skyrim. I am."

 

Rebec picked her mouth up off the floor, then burst out laughing. "You stole Ulfric's crown? How many kinds of treason is that?" She came closer, inspecting him up and down, then back again. "Unh. Now that's a Nord."

 

Baldur smiled and threw the apple to her and said, "He shouldn't have left it on the throne. Careless, that. Now enough of him. I said I was the King. No treason possible. And my first decree is you come closer."

 

Catching the apple, Rebec took a bite and smiled mischievously. "I don't know. I think I might stay over here. Looks like you're going to have to invade, oh mighty king."

 

"If you insist. For Skyrim!" Baldur cried as he came crawling over the bed to make a grab for her waist.

 

Laughing, Rebec took a step forward, forgetting that she was supposed to resist Nord invasion. Her roleplaying as an elf always had had its limits. She still ate the apple, however, forcing herself to look away. "You'll have to get through my defenses, barbarian." That being her uniform.

 

The barbarian in question wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her up before plopping her on the bed. As soon as he was done fumbling with her belt, the pants were off, as he ripped them away along with her boots, flinging them to the wall. He leaned in and pinned her as she unstrung her blouse covering her bosom. He smiled down at her, thinking of where to begin first, then leaned back and fell to his knees. Grunting, he roughly pulled her to the edge rubbing at her through her small clothes with a thumb.

 

Finally, he pulled these away and spread her legs apart, holding them near her ankle as he nuzzled her coarse hair before flickering his tongue at her nub.

 

The apple rolled away into the corner, forgotten.  For sport and pleasure, Rebec resisted him, making the job difficult. By the time he took matters to tongue, however, she was already a conquest. Gasping and closing her eyes, she held herself at bay, wanting to draw it out. Sitting up on her elbows, she laughed again at the sight of the fabled Jagged Crown sticking out of her thighs. The laugh was cut off and Rebec bit her lip, head falling back and one leg drawing up to rest on Baldur's shoulder.

 

He paused a bit to catch his breath and also to give her a small break, kissing at her tensing muscles between her thighs and reddening her skin with his sucking before returning to his spot, rubbing at her other thigh gently as he payed close attention to each flap. The sounds of wet skin was music to his ears as he moved from licks to lightly sucking on her nub now and moving his fingers in to prepare for boarding. He stopped abruptly, then stood. This time it was his turn to tease as he pointed to his kilt and said, "Give me a hand with this."

 

"Yes, my king," Rebec answered, giving him a saucy stare. Her uniform top was still only half off, exposing just the top of her breasts. She scooted forward, legs spread, while her hands moved up his thighs and under the kilt. Tracing the contour of his muscles, her fingers brushed at his soft skin from behind, and she left one hand there, teasing, while the other moved around and tugged at the kilt's ties. When his member sprang free, she leaned forward and, grasping the base with her hand, took the tip in her mouth while her fingers still played at his underside.

 

He groaned deeply with a smile on his face from her touch, her fingers sending long intense shivers throughout his pelvis from brushing against his sensitive ridge. He looked down at her and played at her hair, not rushing her so he could prolong it. It was evident from the concentration of swirls on his pelvis that he was planning for this. He'd have used his new found kingly powers to get it, had she not taken things into her own hands.

 

The sound of his moans worked to encourage and reward her playing as his head leaned back. But soon he wanted more and his hungry eyes locked with her Atmoran blues while his hand served as encouragement against her head.

 

Rebec stole glances at him, smiling inwardly again at the decoration he had made of himself- like a present and just her kind- but marshaled her thoughts to concentrate on rewarding him. She alternated between deep, insistent strokes and more playful licks and kisses. When she was sure that he was looking down at her, she put her hand between her own thighs and let him watch her fingers working in the same rhythm as her mouth. This elicited a groan, the sound reverberating on his skin. Finally, as she could bear it no longer, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bed, intent on riding him.

 

Baldur had the same thought, as he took off the helmet and threw it aside on the bed quickly and laid back next to it, stroking at himself in anticipation before opening his arms, beckoning her to pounce on him. "Let's make Hrothgar shake, eh? Let me see you close."

 

Shrugging out of her uniform top impatiently, Rebec then climbed up his body, kissing his thighs and stomach at each swirl of warpaint. Much as she wanted to take him between her thighs, she also wanted to feel his arms around her, so she compromised. Straddling his hips, she worked him into her until he was hilted, then lay down along his chest and kissed him deeply.

 

As his tongue wrestled with hers while she filled his mouth, Baldur in his passion seized her tight, his arms wound around her in a constricting grip, making his pecks bulk up while pressing against her bosom. In this way, he made sure she was pressed to him firmly, so that her middle would feel him on the inside and out. The friction and heat was thick as they moved fiercely against each other, putting pressure against the others groin, his pubic bone rubbing against her nub as her wetness streaked down him.

 

His eyes stayed locked with hers as they moved, and he savored the feel of her breath on his face from her sharp breathing and every time her breath caught. Rebec shrugged her hair back and laid her cheek against his and rocked in his arms, breath and breath, their tenderest parts fused together until it was like he said in his poems and they were more one than separate. When heat shot through her from thighs to toes and even her scalp tingled with it, she said his name into his ear and let the wave of love for him fill her up.

 

He never got tired of hearing his name said to him with such urgency in that way. It was almost startling how much emotion was put behind it, especially since this was Rebec, where on the outside world, she was mostly so stoic. He granted her the same pleasure and whispered her name to her repeatedly as if to assure her that he was there with her. When his excitement started to reach its peak, he quickly threw the sheets over them to help the illusion of utter nearness and isolation, then focused on being done as he felt her letting herself go on him, so that it would be shared.

 

She was still coming as he did, or came again, it was difficult to tell. When their rocking becoming more gentle, Rebec whispered soft love noises and caressed him with her entire body. Nipples brushed and tugged at the hair of his chest, her thighs slid between his, and her fingers stroked his cheek and brushed the sweaty strands back from his brow while they kissed.

 

He could feel her breathing as well as her heartbeat against his, which kept the feeling of oneness alive even after they were done. The best part of intimacy with her for him was that even when they were done, they weren't done. The afterglow kept them in tune with one another and on the same plane even when the passion in their loins were lessened and satisfied. He continued to rub at her back soothingly as he eased the covers over her head slightly to see her, but kept her against him still.

 

When their breathing finally settled, Baldur smiled at her and sang while occasionally kissing at her some more, "Down below or in the skies, I see nothing, wonder why? In the Aurbis or beyond, there's only one beauty for my eyes. I feel nothing, that's my woe, without you, warmth I'll never know. I smell nothing in the air, I seek only the scent of your hair. I'm deaf, except for sound from thee, so won't you darling, sing for me?"

 

She lay back, enjoying the sound of Baldur's voice as much as the feeling of it rumbling in his chest and his breath against her. When he finished the song and seemed to be looking at her expectantly, Rebec glanced up, confused. "It was sweet. Sing another."

 

"Not this time, it's your turn now," said Baldur who grinned. "Go on, let me hear you try. It's just you and I."

 

"What?" She laughed, dismissing the notion. Her finger trailed across his chest. "Go on, sing me another."

 

Baldur was unwilling to give up so soon, but his face straightened up and he cleared his throat. "Like I was saying, it is true, my senses are all set to you,

I love you, I love you... even when the words to some seems like profanity,

Even when it seems like legal insanity,

And yet admitting this curse to some may seem like vanity,

But yet I love you all the same, you're the one that I should blame,

For making me feel crazy. Mother of my baby...

Sing with me...

 

No matter how cheesy you may think it sounds, just try. You can repeat those words if you want."

 

Laughing, she put him off further. "Why do you want to hear me sing? Wait til I can get drunk again, then I'll sing you shanties until you beg for me to stop." Rebec lay back, nestling into the covers and preparing to sleep. "Sing it again," she said sleepily, then smiled and added, "My liege."

 

"I want to hear you sing because your voice is soothing to me," he said. He was about to continue to try and persuade her when a knock at the door broke him out of his thoughts. His mind immediately went to the crown... "Uh oh. You think? Ulfric?"

 

Her eyes flew open. "Oh gods. Hide it. No, wait, wipe it down first."

 

Baldur jolted out the bed and grabbed the crown, looking around, unsure of what to do with it. Eventually, he just tucked it under the bed and ran to the door, forgetting he was undressed. "Yes?"

 

"Ah, for the sake of the gods, cover yourself!"

 

"Hey, you came to my room! What are you doing here this late, Wuunferth?" The old Nord quickly pushed an old scroll towards him, then turned to walk away.

 

"I just did you a favor, yet again. I remember your disappointment when the skalds at the Feast of the Dead didn't mention anyone with your clan name. All should know their roots, so I dug a little to see if I could find yours. Your welcome." Baldur stared at the parchment for a while, mesmerized by it, so he didn't notice Wuunferth was already gone by the time he lifted his head to thank him.

 

He walked back to the room near the braziers then to read the scroll, which had a long list of what seemed to be unrelated people, until he saw his last name on one, and realized it was a bloodline that lead down to a pair of people. One named Rudin Red-Snow and another named Thadnh-eli. She had many other names attached with hers, descendents and what seemed to be fathers alike. She was betrothed to all Sarthaal in the manner of the Dibellites, sister to one of the outcasts of Shor. 'For dust shall not mate with dust', whatever that meant. Whichever one of the outcasts was her sibling wasn't clear.

 

They were Rebec the Red's shield husband's ash-uncle Noaheim who was risen also from the Sack, and her ash-aunt Marthelk, the last two of which bore (the first) Guri Nail-Face, Hgaehmhel, Nbikki the Red, Khalokehl, Ysmehka, Jorgal the Child-Skald, Ghem-fegh, and Dolweppa Heimsdotter. Ysgramor's 'Sovngarde Plea' was enough that they be Accounted. Meaning they were considered Companions. They were all ground up into Rebec the Red's ship as dust.

 

"So that's it, then. The Red-Snows are the offspring of a Dibellan and related to outcasts of Shor?" Baldur walked back to the bed tamed, then crawled back under the sheets without saying anything.

 

"Give me that." Rebec sat up, took the scroll from where Baldur had discarded it, and lit the candle at their bedside. Propping herself up on the pillow, she read it over and then did so again. "What does this even mean? Are you related to me or aren't you? And you're descended from this Dibellan? So it does run in the family." She glanced at Baldur, then nudged him with her foot. "What's the matter?"

 

"It's just not what I expected. I don't think I'm related to you, but if I am, it's very very distant. The offspring of the half sister of the son or daughter of the ash aunt of Rebec and ash uncle of her shield-husband. But she was on the ship. As a real companion, or just the ship whore, I don't know. The husband, if you could even call him that, must have died in Sarthaal. How the family name even descended is beyond me. How would she have even known that the child she bore was his? Makes no difference, as someone unlisted carried the name for my father and I to have received it. Glorious bloodline indeed. Not even Shor wanted them."

 

Rebec read it again. "She was sister to an outcast of Shor. Nobody tells me what I get to be because Vilnur went and screwed something up. Or vice versa, more like." Tossing the scroll aside, she lay back down and put an arm over his side. "There was a Red Snow in the Companions, think of that. Most in Skyrim would try to claim the same and can't."

 

Baldur sighed and rolled over to face her, putting his arm over her as well. "Yea, you're right. It's not so bad, I mean you have to fight to be a companion, right? So maybe she was a warrior-priestess. Whatever." Baldur put the paper out of his mind and tried saving what was left of the moment earlier by snuggling close like they were before. Brushing a hand through her hair, he kissed her once more and said, "Good-night, love."

 

"You and our babies will make the name even greater." Rebec kissed him again, leaned back to snip out the candle, then settled in to sleep.

 

"And you," he whispered, before sleep finally overcame him.

 

***

The next morning, Ulfric was sitting at his throne waiting for the queen and the Red-Snows to arrive. He awoke to find his crown sitting in his throne, just like before and was thankful that it hadn't gone missing....

 

Baldur popped into the throne room behind Rebec, trying not to make eye contact with the king for risk of laughing when he saw him wearing the crown. "Ah, there you two are. I hope you two got your rest, because I have an important matter to discuss, just as soon as the queen gets here as well."

 

Rebec's mouth twitched from trying not to laugh. She would never be able to look at the Jagged Crown in the same way again.

 

The large entrance door opened and Veleda came in, brushing white from her hair. The icy rain had apparently turned back to snow. She had slipped out to visit the Talos temple, mostly to avoid Sofie's hopeful looks at breakfast. Taking her place on the throne platform, she said, "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

 

"No, these two just got here. You're just in t-...Baldur, is there a problem?" Ulfric asked with heavy annoyance. Baldur's torment from trying not to laugh was very apparent.

 

Straightening up, he said, "No, Ulfric."

 

"Act your age, for Ysmir's sake! Now, if the children are gone, I'd like to get things moving. I've finally decided that I will be passing on what I know of the thu'um. And I'm going to be doing so to you three. I do not make this decision lightly. But it is time we Nords reclaim what is rightfully ours."

 

Rebec exchanged a look with Baldur, now all serious. Learn the thu'um? The queen appeared surprised as well, though unknown to the others, it was only because she hadn't been expecting to be chosen as one of Ulfric's apprentices.

 

It was Rebec who spoke up. "King Ulfric, are you sure about this? I've heard that it takes years and years to learn one word... that only the Greybeards can teach it."

 

"More of Jurgen's lies, I'll bet," said Baldur, having forgotten all about being embarrassed.

 

Ulfric said, "It takes years to master, not learn. I personally was quite proficient with the little that I know now by the time I was a young man. It took me about a year to learn the words, but a good deal longer to become proficient in them by the time I fought in the great war and being able to effectively use all three of 'Unrelenting Force' and 'Disarm'. For you three, you should be able to learn at least a word in a few years and be able to use it on occasion. If you're talented. But that depends on the word, your mentality and personality. The closer fit the thu'um is to you, the faster you should be able to learn it. More than the one shout however, that will take much longer, which is why most tongues before had no more than one or two shouts."

 

"My pa does say that in the old days, bards were a lot quieter than the howlers we got now," Rebec replied. "Because if they sang the wrong word, they might accidentally blow up the inn. Fine. We're Nords and the Nords always had the thu'um. If you're willing to teach, I'm willing to learn."

 

"Good. Then first thing's first. I'll have to assign a shout to all of you, but I'm giving all of you a different shout so what I know can be recorded faster before anything can happen to me and it becomes lost. Before I do that, I'll have to ask you all some questions." Ulfric stood up from his throne seat and took off his crown.

 

"First question. Three Thalmor soldiers are held up in a house with innocent civilians, torturing them for information and because they're Talos worshipers. You have to kill these soldiers at all costs, but you only have yourself and two other soldiers with you. Failure is not an option. How do you go about doing this?"

 

"Three Nords to three elves? Isn't that a little unfair to the elves?" Rebec asked, smirking. She thought a moment, then said, "I'd go in axes first. They're going to kill the captives if they have too much time. A well-aimed axe to the forehead should take out two of your wizards, if you get the drop on them, one-two. Third gets my rope. Pull him off his feet and finish him off."

 

Ulfric took a mental note of her answer, then said, "Okay, Veleda and Baldur? How would you kill the elves?"

 

"Admiral Rebec takes the one woman approach," Veleda observed with a wry smile. "I would rely on my allies a bit more. And since the captives are a concern, on defense. I would try to sneak up on them, perhaps through a back way in, and cast a Silence spell on the Thalmor to prevent any spellcasting. Without their most potent weapons, even a regular Nord soldier could then match a justiciar at blades."

 

Ulfric nodded again and said, "Interesting, ladies. Both seem like they'd get the job done. And finally, the fool who can't seem to stay serious for more than five seconds. What's your answer, Baldur?"

 

Baldur gave him a smirk at the comment, then finally said, "Well, if failure isn't an option, then the elves aren't just common Thalmor. So, I'd lock them all in from the outside and burn the house down. Assuming it was made of wood."

 

The king paused for a while, then said, "Okay, all seem to get the job done well enough. Before I move on, any comments to your fellow apprentices on their answers?"

 

Rebec turned to Veleda. "What if your Thalmor aren't justiciar but soldiers? Then you wasted your stealth approach and they'll have blades."

 

The queen nodded. "A fair point. And I have to ask you, High General, isn't your plan going to burn the captives along with the Thalmor?"

 

"Yea it would. But the targets are dead. The mission parameters were to kill the enemy, not save the captives. Better that than fight the enemy without an advantage of some sort and risking them obtaining valuable information, like with Rebec's option. At least that's how I see it."  Rebec stirred uneasily at this rationale, but said nothing about it.

 

Veleda regarded Baldur silently a moment, then said, "Or escape to plague others. I see your reasoning, though it wouldn't comfort the captives' families."

 

"There's lots of families to worry about in war. Lose to the Thalmor, you could lose a lot more than some captives in a house. Though if I knew exactly what information they had, it might be different. All I know though is that failure wasn't an option. Ulfric, is there a correct answer?"

 

"No, Baldur, the answers you all gave is more important than whether or not it was the most appropriate for the situation. Personally, if it was during the civil war, I'd never do something that would tarnish our image like that. The Great War though is different. Ready for the next, you three, or did you have any more comments, or questions for me?"  The others kept quiet, so Veleda gestured for Ulfric to continue.

 

"Okay then. You're in a prison for a crime you didn't commit, and you've just escaped. There's one guard left between you and freedom. What do you do?"

 

"Is this guard a man?" Rebec asked, then thought better of suggesting a seduction ruse while her husband was standing next to her. "Uh, I mean, I guess I'd throw a rock to make him turn and then knock his feet out from under him from behind. Maybe step on his snowberries while he's down."

 

Veleda laughed. "But you might catch a sword in the gut if you don't trip him. A mage has an advantage here. If it's not a Nord, I would cast a frost spell to slow response, then take the guard's weapon to finish him off. If a Nord, a fire spell to panic him, and the same."

 

"And if it's a Breton who resists your spell?" Rebec asked.

 

The queen lifted her hands. "Then the snowberry tactic, I suppose."

 

Baldur knew Rebec by now and knew what she meant as soon as she said, "Uh, I mean." But he just laughed at it. "Well, those are better than what you were planning, Rebec. That'd get you sent to Sovngarde for sure. Is there a rule that the women get to speak first?"

 

"No, why? No different ideas on this one, general?" asked Ulfric with a smirk. "The answer doesn't have to be different, you know."

 

"Okay, well the first thing I'd go for if he's armed is probably his eyes. You go for a man's eyes, they won't draw a sword, they'll try to protect their eyes first. Which by then, I'd have gotten to them, then I'd leave after he's rolling on the floor in agony. No, wait. A crime I didn't commit? I guess they're corrupt then?"

 

"Sure I guess. Doesn't really matter," Ulfric said.

 

"Okay, well if that was the case, then I'd take his sword and strip him naked afterwards to humiliate him after his eyes were gouged. Probably would need to knock him out or kill him for that. Then I'd leave. I'd have a disguise too on top of some revenge."

 

"Overkill," Rebec said, laughing. She looked back at Ulfric. "What's this got to do with the thu'um?"

 

"I'm getting to that. This is quite revealing. And in some cases, not surprising. Baldur...." Ulfric shook his head.

 

"What? Overkill is what I call making sure the job is done."

 

"Nevermind. Anyway, one more question, then I'll move on. What is the first thing that comes to your mind when I say the word hand? The first appropriate thing, Red-Snows."

 

Rebec smirked and answered, "Axe. Because I can remember holding an axe before anything else."

 

Ulfric gave her a nod and a smile. Short and to the point. As I expected. "Baldur?"

 

Baldur said, "Weakness. Men rely too much on their hands. It helps us see the world as much as our eyes do, so naturally we're reliant on them. They're essential. Which is why like the eyes and nethers, they're sensitive to touch and exactly where I want to inflict pain to bring my opponent to his knees and terror in his eyes. The Thalmor know this as well. They focused on my hands a lot in captivity."

 

Hmm... "And Veleda," said Ulfric.

 

The queen held out her scarred hand. "Is there any question? It's what I'm named for.  One day when I wandered off from a picnic and ran into a giant rat, I threw fire at it even though I'd never opened a spell book. I come from a line of smiths, but to me it seemed the most wonderful thing that I had a weapon that could never rust or break. Almost never."

 

"Good way to look at it. And with that, we can finally move on to the selection. First, Veleda. Veleda, your first question lead to you seeking to render the power of your foes useless. Your second answer was more direct, but in the end, you once again set to make your enemy defenseless and unable to fight. Your third answer shows that you understood what a hand could do naturally, and without thinking.

 

You are not above using the direct approach, but even in doing so, you make the opponent unable to do the same. Although all Nords have an understanding of what hands can do, especially Rebec and Baldur, as a mage and a warrior, you understand the power that lies within the hand better than anyone. And because of this, you also know the importance of disarming that power. For this reason, I assign you Zun, Haal, Viik. Weapon, Hand, Disarm. Does anyone disagree with my assessment?"

 

Rebec spoke up. "You can do that? Take the weapon right out of someone's hand?" She considered that, then said, "Fight mages and you find out one thing. They're deadly if they got range, but up close they're helpless as babes. Well, maybe not you, Majesty, but most are. Shout a weapon out of someone's hand and you're death every which way."

 

The queen listened to both, then glanced at Ulfric and nodded once, approving his choice.

 

Baldur was a bit jealous of the choice, as the possibilities for his own fighting tactics were going through his head. Ripping the weapon out of a man's hand? An 'I win' power. No matter. The next one is the one that throws people. That's mine for sure.

 

"Rebec," said Ulfric.

 

What? Baldur thought.

 

"Rebec, your first answer showed that you tend to charge in and face your enemies head on most of the time, even though as a sailor, you too can be conniving. You take everything your foe and the world in general throws at you and you push back harder. Your second answer too shows this. Your gender cannot hold back your forceful personality anymore than anything else can. All Nords can understand this concept naturally, but as a sailor, no one understands the power of a forceful push better than you, the Captain of the Black Wisp. Kyne demonstrates it with her wind and waves constantly. It is no wonder that when people think of the thu'um, they think of this trademark ability. Your last answer is a testament to your master at arms, but it is clear that no one is more fitting to wield the power of force than the Admiral of the Stormcloak Navy. You are unyielding, untameable. You are Fus, Ro, Dah. Force, Balance, Push. Unrelenting Force. Baldur, as her husband, no one knows her better than you. Do you disagree with my assessment?"

 

Baldur took in every word and the more Ulfric went on, the more he knew that this truly was a perfect fit. Even if it meant there wasn't anything left for him, to his great disappointment.

 

"No, I think it fits her perfectly," Baldur said, hiding his disappointment as best he could. After all, he said he'd only teach them one each and Ulfric only knew two. Baldur assumed maybe he could only teach two at once.

 

"Anyone else disagree?" asked Ulfric.

 

Rebec had seen Ulfric demonstrate this ability in the Battle of Solitude, blasting imperials off ramparts. She pictured being able to clear a ship's deck, or knocking an archer off a scaffold. "No objections here, Your Majesty. Would come in handy."

 

"Good. Well, that's that. Sorry, Baldur. You didn't pass the test." There wasn't many things that could make Baldur cry, well, in public. But at that second, Ulfric was truly afraid that was about to happen. "Bahahaha! I'm just kidding, Red-Snow, I've got one for you, too. You're not the only one that can play a joke."

 

"Hilarious, your Highness. Truly." Baldur's face was completely deadpan.

 

"Well then, lets see. Judging from what I've seen of you over the years, you can be calm one minute and playful like a child the next. Not unlike a single lit flame upon a candle. Still at first, then dancing playfully at the wick. And like a candle light, your presence draws others to your light and warmth of spirit. But, just like a candle light, you have the capacity to do great harm. It doesn't take long for flame to rage out of control and that too is the same for you. You make others feel alive and make our enemies wish they weren't. Your first answer shows that when it comes to achieving victory, you are willing to sacrifice what is necessary, just how a flame burns indiscriminately. Your second answer... reveals a sadist in you, as does the third. And like the dragons who are renowned for this trademark ability, you are prideful in your strength and your rage can be great. Fire can grant painful agonizing deaths and you seem to revel in the suffering of others as they do. A warmth to those that call you friend. A scourge to those that call you foe. For this, you are Yol, Toor, Shul. Fire, Inferno, Sun. Fire Breath. No one is more fitting to wield the power of the dragons, than the one who faced Alduin's hellfire and lived."

 

Turning to Rebec, Ulfric said, "Rebec, soon to be wielder of wind's strength. Behind every good man is a good woman. And as that woman giving him strength as a wind does to a flame, no one knows him better than you. Do you disagree with my assessment?"

 

For once Rebec's face was serious as she thought through what Ulfric had said. Instinctively she wanted to reject the notion that Baldur was a sadist- one who enjoyed harming others- but hadn't she seen it before, in Rommulas and Falkreath?  Meeting Baldur's eyes, she thought of Ulrin, and of how her father joked about Baldur slitting his throat in his sleep. Maybe it wasn't a joke, at least not in its implications. Vigge was a keen judge of character. It was hard for her to reconcile these things with the man who was so tender to her. A part of her loved that fierceness, too, though, and knew she wouldn't be satisfied with a man who was only gentleness all the time.

 

"Burn your enemies to the ground," she said, still looking at Baldur. "Like the controlled burn in Falkreath. It fits you." Rebec turned back to Ulfric. "I think this will do."

 

"Good. And you, general?"

 

Baldur took a moment to answer, as he was still muddling through things. A sadist wasn't something he liked being called. Rebec's strength, resilience and forceful powerful personality and Veleda's instinctive, versatile, skilled and scholarly knowledge of hands and their capacity as weapons seemed much more flattering to him, but it wasn't about that, it was about the truth. He supposed that if he was being honest with himself, he enjoyed things like Lorgar's torment, or the fear in Do'jhul's eyes at the sight of the heated piece of silver. Or the mutilated wolf men of the legion. And the Blood-Dragoning. If he was like fire, then he needed to be careful that he didn't burn those he loved.

 

"Aye, I agree with the assessment. It'll be nice to be able to deal with mages on their own turf. Or simply to make a foe panic from being set aflame."

 

Ulfric said, "Alright, then. I have notes on each of the words of power, which I'll send to all of you today. Study them, meditate and contemplate daily for at least two hours straight, but also think about it throughout the day. You get what you put into it, basically. When you're able to speak a word, you'll know. Any questions?"

 

Veleda stirred. Two hours a day was a sacrifice for anyone, let alone the people in this room, but it had been her idea that Ulfric should pass on his knowledge to someone. An investment in Skyrim's future.

 

The admiral was obviously thinking something similar. Stepping forward, Rebec said, "Thank you for this, King Ulfric. People say a lot of things about you, and about what you're doing here. They'll probably talk about this too, that the thu'um is dangerous and shouldn't be taught. But I say you're giving Nords a chance to be Nords again, instead of tall imperials. So, both of you..." She looked at Veleda then, including her. "Thank you for what you're doing."

 

"I appreciate the gratitude, Admiral. This decision wasn't easy for me. No doubt, my old teacher has sensed what we are doing here, but they did not grant us this ability, the gods did. If what I am doing is wrong, then let Kyne come down and say it. Now, talk amongst yourselves. I need to go speak with someone." Ulfric brushed a hand over Baldur and Rebec's shoulder, then left for the bedroom wing of the Palace.

 

***

 

Sofie was at her lessons in her own room, painstakingly copying out words from a book. She had only just learned to read, and since she didn't have her own tutor, mostly was doing so by copying books. This one had funny letters in it, though, not like the others she had read. Arches and dots and...

 

Ulfric came into the room without knocking, forgetting that this room was the child's even though he owned the place. "Child, what are you up to?" he said after closing the door. He took a seat next to her at her little table.

 

The girl jumped and her eyes widened at seeing Ulfric. She stumbled over her words a bit, then finally said, "I'm learning to write. And to read. Sort of."  Staring at the king, she then blurted, "Please don't send me away. I like Veleda. I mean, Her Majesty."

 

Ulfric didn't answer her. He was thinking about how he was sent away for the honor of becoming a Greybeard. He eventually moved his hand to see what it was that Sofie was writing. Eventually, he said, "My parents are gone too, you know. So I know what it's like. Maybe not quite, since you are still a child. But I can relate. Do you blame me for your father's passing, child? Don't be afraid, you can be honest with me."

 

Sofie swallowed hard. "They say you're a bad man, that you did bad things, but Veleda likes you. She says those people are jealous. I don't know if the war was bad. My pa said it was honorable, but he left me all alone with a sick old woman and never came back. It doesn't seem fair that the war was more important than his own daughter."

 

Ulfric smiled at her truthfulness and innocence, then said, "I did do bad things, Sofie. Not everything that people said I did, but you'll come to learn one day that in this world, you can't change anything without doing something that is less than beneficial to someone. It's not an excuse though. As for your father, I didn't know him personally, but I'll bet my life that the war wasn't more important than you. I bet he helped me win this war because of you. He didn't want you to grow up under what he considered to be an oppressive Empire. We all risked our lives for the next generation's benefit. Maybe that's not a great comfort for you, but it is the truth. One day you'll come to understand that."

 

She didn't really know what to say about that. Adults were always saying such things, that you'd understand someday. It still didn't seem right. "Yes, Your Majesty. I think he ought to have taken me with him. It says in The Fall of the Snow Prince that a twelve year old girl fought side by side with her mother. I don't know if I could fight, but I could have helped. I can help here, too. I'll help clean the floors or.. take out the chamber pots."

 

"No need, we have servants for that, though I'll require you to maintain your own room so you don't get lazy. If I'm going to let you stay, my first condition is you call me Ulfric or sir. If you're to be my daughter or ward, then I can't have you calling me your majesty. Maybe even pa one day if you ever get comfortable enough to do so. My second condition is that you and I should have a talk and share a meal at least once a day. Veleda can attend as well if that would make you feel more comfortable. So, what do you say? You willing to let me call you daughter in your father's stead?"

 

Sofie's eyes widened. She had hoped for Veleda to be like a mother to her, but had never expected the king to want to be her father. "Yes! I'll do it. Everything you said. Oh thank you, Your- I mean... sir." She jumped up and hugged him, her last fears vanished.

 

The hug caught Ulfric by surprise, but he eventually hugged Sofie back. He had expected her just to say yes, then run off to Veleda, given her feelings about his war and her father. But this was a pleasant surprise, if still quite new to him. "Alright then, your first duty as my daughter is to take a break from your studies and go tell Veleda what I told you."

 

"Yes sir!" Sofie ran out, forgetting all decorum, which had been a hard thing for her to learn in the first place. She found Veleda talking with some of the guards about palace security. Unable to control her excitement, she plastered herself to the queen's side. "He said I could call him pa!"

 

Stopped mid-sentence, Veleda looked down in astonishment. "Who? Ulfric?" She glanced back to catch the king's eye, but he hadn't come back yet. "He said that? So you are to be our ward, then?" Caught up in the little girl's enthusiasm, and touched by her own surprise, the queen scooped Sofie up and hugged her tightly.

 

In the moments they held each other, Veleda thought of her own parents, about how much their rift hurt her, and of all the terrible loss this war had caused. Out of all that, at least something had been reclaimed. Putting Sofie back down, Veleda took her hand and said proudly, "Then let's go tell Jorleif. He's to post a proclamation so that everyone can read it. Your home is here, with us, until you're grown and make a name of your own."

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Skjari

Yellow Road

Late afternoon

 

The shadows grew longer as the sun began to reach the horizon. They had travelled for a few days and even by horse they had only reached the southern part of The Niben Basin. Skjari halted his horse as he looked at the road sign that pointed to the road the deviated to the right; "Applevale" the sign read. He pulled out the map and looked it over. There were no inns further down the road that they would manage to reach before dark. Even though it didn't bother him if he so had to ride through the night, having spent all day on horseback the last few days, he decided he could afford to give himself and his apprentices the luxury of an early stop. So he folded and put back the map before turning the horse down the road towards Applevale. It took a little less than half an hour to reach Applevale. They passed a small bridge over a small river, and during that time a light mist had formed and now covered their surroundings. The town wasn't large and was almost more of a large village. And it was located near some very large and tall cliffs that made a half decent attempt at forming a small mountain. And even though he could not see it, the smoke and the distant sound of rocks clashing suggested strongly that there was a mine going down under those cliffs. It was a quiet town and with the mist, and if not for the mental scarring, Skjari might have actually thought the place to be a bit creepy. Though the apprentices seemed to think it was as he heard Maximus make a sarcastic joke about how cheerful the place was. 

 

The nights silence was broken by a womens loud voice,a presumably annoyed and very angry women, "Useless peasant. If you can't do your job properly, I'll have you and your family thrown onto the streets."

 

And I was starting to enjoy the calm quiet. Skjari thought. And as he rounded the corner of a building he entered the main street of the town. The street was very large and a few yards away he saw a noblewoman with red hair, she looked somewhat familiar but he couldn't quite remember. She was yelling at some young man in simple clothes. She had a guard waiting slightly behind her and a few other commoners stood around watching the spectacle. 

Skjari didn't pay that much attention as he instead tried finding the inn of the little town as his eyes trailed down the houses on both sides of the street. But he still lent the event an ear. 

 

She turned around to see the newcomers, with her face changing to surprised, her voice was also more soft, "Lord Snow-Strider."

 

He turned his head and halted his horse. "Yes? I'm sorry if I don't quite remember. But haven't we met before?" 

 

She giggled, which caused the townspeople to raise there eyebrows, "Yes we have. I'm her majesties second cousin, Elizabeth Motierre."

 

Skjari was silent for a couple of seconds as tried to remember. "Now I remember. So what brings you to this town?"

 

"I own it."

 

"Ah. Well I'm on my way from Leyawiin to Cheydinhal. Just going to stop here for the night."

 

Lizzy turned around and said loudly, "What are you filth looking at. Get back to work." She glanced back to Skjari, her voice becoming kind again, "A handsome lord like yourself betrothed to my beloved cousin? I think not. You must stay at my mansion."

 

"Very kind of you m'lady. And what of my apprentices?" Skjari gestured to his little entourage. 

 

"They can sleep in the guest rooms if they must." She said rolling her eyes. 

 

Skjari turned to his entourage. "Stay at the inn. You got the gold for it. And don't drink too much. That's an order." He then dismounted the horse let it go it's way before turning back to Elizabeth. "Shall we go then?"

 

She offered him her hand, and shyly looked withdrawn, "You will protect me, right. My lord? Its so scary for a lady like me in the evening..."

 

Do I smell like a Dibellan or something? Anyway, haven't had a woman in weeks. Just play along. "Of course m'lady." He then offered her his arm for her to grab.

 

She held onto his arm tightly, "Thank you my lord. Her majesty couldn't compare to your kindness."

 

"She's gotten a bit stiff as of late, I know. But enough about that." Skjari lifted his foot and was about to take the first step, but stopped himself. "Which way is the mansion?" 

 

"North of here it'll only take fifteen minutes."

 

He had no desire to cast a spell to point out north. "I think it's better if you show the way."

 

"Follow me then."

 

As the two of them walked, commoners passing by stopped to bow there heads to the pair. Lizzy smiled sinisterly, "Its good these low lives know there place, and they respect there betters."

 

"Hmm." He said while trying to sound thoughtful, as he had no desire to either agree or disagree.

 

"So have you got Dales pregneant yet?"

 

"No." He lowered his voice. "You can probably figure out why."

 

"She's attracted to girls, gross right?"

 

He leaned in and whispered. "Last time we talked you hinted at being the same."

 

"I experimented when I was younger and played around with Dales. Wanted to cheer her up in the imperial city, nothing more."

 

"So you don't prefer the sheath over the sword?"

 

"I don't." Lizzy caught sight of a worker holding a damaged pick axe, her face went red with anger, as she left Skjari's arm lock, and went over waving her hand about, "You. What kinda of imbecile breaks a pick axe." 

 

The man bowed his head, and said apologetically, "I'm sorry my lady."

 

She went on for a good five minutes, ranting about various things, including the economy, the price of replacing tools, and the person's inferiority. Skjari himself just stood there and watched and listened for a minute before getting bored. Though he almost felt sorry for the worker as when he started to look like he wasn't paying attention, Lizzy gave him a slap across the face and then grabbed his ear and forced the man down his knees while she continued to lecture the man. When the man looked like he was about to cry, whether it was from the pain of the pinched ear or the lecture or both, Skjari felt like he had waited long enough.

He stepped close to Lizzy and interrupted. "I think he understands now." 

 

"Hmpth, he better." She dropped the mans ear and walked away, "Honestly I think I'm too lenient with these peasants." 

 

"I doubt it." Skjari then offered her his arm again.

 

As if not even paying attention, she accepted it, and started saying, "I know right? I should throw them into the dungeon or put them into stocks."

 

"How do you expect them to be able to work then?"

 

"Exactly. You have to have a shred of mercy, especially since i'm such as kind person-" Just then a shadowy man bumped into the pair, who hastily made a retreat as soon as he did. Elizabeth, whose face once again filled with rage, shouted out, "HEY, YOU-" But before she could finished, she noticed something was missing. That man was a pickpocket. Before Skjari could say anything, Elizabeth sprinted forward, in a surprisingly fast dash of speed. Before anyone knew it, Lizzy was on the man, pinning him to the ground, she got up, dusting her clothes. With a cry, she slammed her feet into the man's stomach with strength uncharacteristic of someone her size and age, she shouted, "Why you miserable low-life." She slammed her foot into his stomach again, causing him to spit out blood, which went onto her clothes, causing her to get angrier, "Peasant.", before putting her boot on the man's face, pushing down with enough force to cause him to cry out in pain, "You lazy, ungrateful piece of shit."

 

Skjari first watched in surprise at it all. And she said she wanted protection? If anyone needs protection it's the thief. He thought before he walked up to Lizzy. "I think he's trying to say he's sorry." 

 

"What?" She turned around breathing hard, "Thieves don't get to say sorry."

 

"Just take back what he stole. He's not worth more effort."

 

"Fine." She stopped kicking the man, and took back the pouch he had stolen. "Filth."

 

Skjari offered her his arm and he could hear the thief cry out for a guard's help. "So how is the business going in this town of yours?" 

 

Taking it and beginning to walk again, she said, "The mines are pumping out revenue, so business is good."

 

"No bandit raids or pesky competitors?"

 

"We are after all relatives to her majesty, no one would dare provoke us."

 

"What ore do you mine?"

 

"Silver."

 

"So you make jewelry?"

 

"Yep. I was going to give Dales a nice emerald one, but decided not to." She said puffing her face.

 

"You didn't get a chance to give it to her?" He said with a slight disbelief. 

 

"No, I didn't want to. She kicked me out of the palace, the only thing I did was attempt to slap one of her maids."

 

"For what?" 

 

"Getting water on my dress. Some shylooking mouse with dark hair and glasses."

 

"Sounds familiar. But don't really remember who. Anyway, you live alone in this mansion?"

 

"My father, mother, younger sister, and younger brother live with me, though my brother is the official heir, I do all the work." 

 

"When I tell them your Dales' fiancee, as well as nobleman. I have no doubt they'll greet you with open arms."

 

Skjari looked down at his robe and gauntlets. "I bet there will be some doubt though. Have to say I look more like a mercenary right now."

 

"Hmmm. So how do you like the town?"

 

"A bit dreary from what I've seen so far."

 

"The town has a long and rich history of supernatural folklore. It fits, doesn't it?"

 

"Prattle from the commoners more then likely. It still can get very creepy at night, and your eyes tend to play tricks on you."

 

"So lets hurry to the mansion before dark then? I could use a hefty meal and a warm bed."

 

****

 

As they entered the mansion, the feeling of warmth instantly spread over them. Before Lizzy could say anything, a girl entered into the entrance room. She was pale, had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a pair of silver glasses. She looked nothing like Lizzy, but had similar features to Dales, minus being abnormally short.  She spoke in a deadpan, and un-energetic voice, "Brought some company over, sister?" Her eyebrows raised. Lizzy responded in her usual happy voice,

 

"Yes Emily, this is Lord Snow-Strider, court mage to her majesty."

 

The young girl didn't react, instead saying, "So, you work for Dales?" Oddly, she addressed the empress by her first name, unlike her sister. 

 

"You could say that." Skjari answered. 

 

She looked at him, taking in ever detail, and examining him with her cold blue eyes. After a minute, she shook her head, "Nah, you cant be her fiancee can you? I don't think your her type."

 

"I know it's a bit hard to believe."

 

She looked at Lizzy, "No breasts."

 

"What?" Skjari assumed she was talking about him, but it was still quite an odd thing to say. 

 

"If you work for her, I know you know what I mean. You have no breasts, hence she would never find you attractive. Must be a marriage of alliance, convenience, or necessity, correct?"

 

Lizzy lightly tapped her, "Emily please not now." 

 

Emily shrugged, "Just a question." 

 

"So, when's dinner?" He instead said, obviously trying to change subject.

 

"Oh great, I doubt you want to be exposed to father's toxic cooking, he's making his bloody stew." Said the girl, yawning.

 

Lizzy bluntly said, in a loud voice, "Father's stew is amazing!!!"

 

Emily laughed dryly, "Maybe if you want to gain five hundred pounds." 

 

"I tend to eat for two anyway." Skjari said indifferently.

 

"Well then follow me-" A loud voice interrupted Emily before she could finish.

 

"EMILY PLAY WITH ME." A little boy entered. He was short looking no older then four, had red hair like Lizzie, and his face was covered in freckles. He turned his head to Skjari, before laughing, "Oh hello mister nord."

 

SKjari returned a little amused smile. "Hello little boy." 

 

Lizzy ran up to the little boy, grabbing him and tickling him, he struggled, laughing, "Stop Lizzy, stop..."

 

 Emily smiled faintly, before going up to Skjari and saying, "I'll show you to your quarters, before taking you to the dinner table." She motioned for him to join her.

 

Skjari gave a light nod. "After you then."

 

She lead him through a large hallway, which was filled with paintings, of landscapes, and people. She said to Witchie, "So, do you plan to sleep with me, or Elizabeth tonight?"

 

"That's an odd question to ask directly. And you don't seem that interested." 

 

"I'm curious. I can tell you straight out I'm not interested, if you know what I mean. I've heard the rumors Lord Snow-Strider, and I'm a close friend with a few noblewomen in the Imperial City. One of which claims to have spent a night with you."

 

"Only a little curious? I prefer more... willing participants." 

 

"Good. I see your not a rapist then." She walked a few more steps, "Elizabeth adores you, so I have no doubt she'll be crawling to your bed later tonight."

 

"Are you always this..."

 

"Straightforward? Uptight? Bitchy?" She chuckled, "Most of the time, yes. I see no reason not to state the truth. Is that not a virtue?"

 

"It's a more important talent to know when to say what."

 

"There's a reason Elizabeth heads the family and not me."

 

"What of your parents then? They just sit around waiting to grow grow old and die?"

 

"Yep. Father spends all of his time in the Kitchen or playing with Adam. My step mother, whose quite young, spends all of her time pestering the commoners."

 

"And your real mother?"

 

"Dead. Disease. I'm a bastard you see."

 

"So Lizzy is actually your half sister?" 

 

"Yes." She stopped for a second, halting. She looked thoughtful, "Lizzy always knew. Yet she always treated me well and loved me like her real sister, unlike everyone else at court. Which is pretty odd, considering how spiteful she is towards commoners." 

 

"Your mother was a commoner?"

 

"Yes, a brothel whore, or so I'm told. Father was kind enough to take me in when she passed."

 

"And Lizzy's mother? I take it the stepmother you have right now isn't Lizzy's mother is she's still young." 

 

"Divorced, a lesser noble of High Rock. A horrible women."

 

"Ah." He made a short pause. "I hope I'm not intruding on the dinner or anything."

 

"No, father loves company, as does Camilla, Lizzy, and Adam. Though I do wish Dales would visit sometime."

 

"I'm sure she wish she could too. Being empress isn't easy, especially in these times."

 

"I..." She stopped a second, before blushing heavily, "Nevermind. That was an extremely selfish thought.

 

"You can also make use of the sheath?" 

 

She turned around, her tone becoming different, being incredibly embarrassed and uneasy going, "I-dont know what your talking about."

 

"You're going to stop being straightforward?"

 

"Well... Dales was always the kindest to me. When she was a girl, all she would do was pester me, annoy me, but always smile and treat me like an older sister. She...didn't treat me like anything else, like the other noble girls. When she got older...I started seeing her as something more then a little sister." She turned away, her voice changing back to normal, "But that's impossible. We both have our duties to the family, and Dales never saw me as anything but an older sister." 

 

"I get it, you and Lizzy did some experimenting in the early years."

 

"Many Noblewomen do. Though unlike Elizabeth, I never grew out of it."

 

"But you still also like the sword, or else you wouldn't be 'curious'."

 

"Depends on the person. As everything. Gender doesn't matter to me." She gave him a sly smile, "Unfortunately for you, my shriveled Icy heart belongs to a young empress, as unrequited as my feelings are."

 

"So where's my room? Or am I staying in Lizzy's room? I also have the feeling we've been walking in circles. Or am I just lost?"

 

"Now that you mention it..." She looked around the corner, "Here." She pointed towards a door.

 

"The guest room?" He said and gave her a little suspicious look. 

 

"Yes. It's medium sized, and should suit your needs for the night, though knowing father, he'll insist on having you stay for another day."

 

"Though I'm actually on business. I'll leave in the morning." 

 

"Then I recommend leaving early."

 

"How so?"

 

"Wake up early in the morning and go. I'll tell them you had pressing business to attend. Make sure not to wake up Elizabeth, since I know she'll be sleeping beside you when you wake up."

 

"I think I'll need a bit more of an explanation than that."

 

"Then expect to leave later afternoon at the earliest then."

 

"Why?" Now it was getting a bit frustrating not getting a straight answer. 

 

"My dad and Lizzy will keep you. Unless you act firm and risk offending them."

 

"They can try. Anyway, dinner?"

 

"Follow me."

 

***
 

Emily lead him to a large room, with a large oak table in the middle, with several seats. It was covered in food. Emily's little brother Adam, was already seated, as well as Lizzy, who was sitting beside her little brother.

The little boy waved his arms, "Yohooo, mister nord, why don't you sit beside me?"

 

Lizzy sternly tapped him on the shoulder, "Don't bother our guest Adam."

 

Skjari walked up to them. "Sorry but I think I'll sit here instead." And he sat down next to Lizzy instead.

 

"Awwww, don't sit beside big bust-Lizzy." Emily nearly fell, choking on laughter, which she tried covering with her hands.

 

Lizzy, got red faced, glancing down to her breasts,"They aren't that big. Adam, were in Oblivion did you hear that name?"

 

"Mother said to father your breasts were too big, and would ruin your chances in getting married. So I came up with the name big-bust Lizzy."

 

Lizzy let out a "Humpth", lightly smacking the boy on the head, "Well don't repeat it again."

 

Skjari leaned in an whispered in Lizzy's ear under a muffle spell. "I'm sure she's just jealous."

 

"Are... they really that big? They're not melons like Lillin Quentas's, just a little...larger then average right?" She returned the whisper.

 

"You want an examination?" 

 

"Oh you sly devil. Even when your betrothed? Later." She smiled, before saying, "How goes the writing Emily?" 

 

Emily nodded, "Very fine, sister." 

 

Looking down at his empty plate and then the barren table, Skjari decided he might as well try to join the conversation. "You're a writer?"

 

"Yes. Historical Fiction." She said, in a snarky voice, "I have to keep the bookshelves of book stores lined with historically accurate drama's, and it's my civic duty to quell the rising sales of books written by that Bathory woman."

 

"Right. So what kind of historical fiction, and what era?" 

 

"Second Era mostly, some drama, some romance. Though I did a small novel based on the Nordic night of tears in the Merethic Era, and did an even smaller one on the fabled Dragon War. They were... controversial to say the least, to the point of them now being as rare as Bathory's infamous Camille.

 

"I think the only book I've read from Miss Bathory is The Lost King."

 

"While I think Magdela is a fine, and good women, I cant say the same about her writing. Far too smutty for my tastes, as well as her books portraying events far more romanticized then they actually were, as well as historically inaccurate. Camille, I think was her best work by far. Sons of Skyrim by far the worst. Portrayal of the Stormcloaks and the Imperial Legion was horribly inaccurate, and there wasn't enough gory details." 

 

"I haven't read any of those books so I can't really comment." Though I have a faint memory of burning Lorgar's Camille. Along with the rest of his filthy elf book collection and the rest of his office. 

 

"You don't read novels, Lord Snow-Strider?"

 

"Not much. I'm more into tomes of magic, history books and a few books about warfare and civics. I'm a scholar of sorts."

 

"Well, you are court mage after all. Though you should. There's some fine novels out there." Emily said, smiling. Just then, servants arrived carrying plates of delicious looks food. She gave him a nod, "Go ahead, take some appetizers." Emily helped herself to a large amount of food.

 

"Well I'm starving." He reached out to grab some food and he suddenly realized he still had the gauntlets on. He pulled off the gauntlets and put them down on the table besides his plate, tilted almost upside down so the others wouldn't see the royal dragon carvings that covered the plates that protected the forearms. Then he started to grab a little bit of everything that looked like it would taste good. Fruit, sliced and smoked deer meat and something he thought was some kind of root vegetable. The things he couldn't directly reach he had it float through the air towards him with a little magic. Then he began to eat at a quick pace. Lizzy, ate with sophistication, taking small bites, while Emily and Adam gorged there faces.

When the plate was empty Skjari was about to take some more, but stopped his hand for a moment. "So I guess there's no stew today or are these just the starters?" 

 

"Starters." Said Emily tearing at a deers leg, "Save your stomach."

 

"I really like this root though." He said and stretched for some more. 

 

"It's licorice."

 

"Isn't that also used to make some kind of treat?"

 

"Yes. A sort of candy. Children adore it."

 

"Though I bet it's also something adults like." Skjari had now gotten a little bored of the conversation and cast a spell so his left arm looked to be simply resting at the table along with keeping the boy a bit distracted by the food, while it actually began running up the side under Lizzy's dress. 

 

Lizzy let out a cry of surprise, before covering her mouth, her face was blushing heavily. Emily's eye brows raised, "Is there a problem?" 

 

Lizzy said "Nothings wrong."

 

"She probably just saw an insect." Skjari said, hand going further up till it almost reached her hip and then caressed itself to the inside of the thigh. It was quite amusing poking a reaction out of Lizzy and indirectly, the others. 

 

"Do you need to be excused?" Asked Emily. Lizzy, who was breathing a bit more heavily, shook her head.

 

"So what exactly did you write about in your book about the Dragon War?" Skjari asked as he turned to Emily. Now his fingers trailed further in, past her underwear and inside her. 

 

"A meeting between the legendary dragon priests, and there liege lord, Alduin-" Emily was interrupted by Lizzie crying out.

 

"Calm down Elizabeth, you're getting a bit jumpy. Almost like you've seen a ghost. Anyway, Emily, please continue." Skjari said calmly and unaffected. Now he began stirring things up a little bit, along with a small spell to increase the sensitivity.

 

"The Nordic god of destruction. Along with a small passage about the fabelled "Traitor" from Skaalish mythology-" Lizzy was sitting with mouth half open and twisting around. Emily sighed before adjusting her glasses causing the light to flash on them, "Lord Snow Strider. You should be aware Dales was not the only one to study at the Synod."

 

"A little bit more self control please." He sent those words inside Lizzy's head along with a calming spell before speaking to Emily. "So wish to speak about the arcane arts instead?" He gave her little amused smile and then made a quick and subtle nod towards the boy on the other side of Lizzy, reminding Emily that it wouldn't be wise to expose him. 

 

She rolled her eyes, "I was there for history. Though I'm decent in mysticism and alteration. As well as particularly skilled at spotting Illusion magic."

 

"Isn't mysticism a bit of a dead school today? Though I myself have always thought the concept of schools to be a bit limiting. So for me it doesn't really matter if it's dead." 

 

"It's rare, but rather fun to learn. My father is a ten times better mage then me though."

 

"Is it common for nobility to study magic here in Cyrodiil?"

 

"More common then you think."

 

"Lizzy, have you also studied magic?" He said while turning to her. 

 

"Yes. Destruction and illusion." She answered quickly. 

 

He turned back to Emily. "I have actually studied the Dragon Cult. Alduin is actually more of a God of Time. Or more like the firstborn of the God of Time." He then stirred the fingers a little bit more, along with increasing the power of the spell. "Stay calm." He said with a stern voice in Lizzy's head. 

 

"I am aware. Ancient texts refer to him as 'Firstborn of Akatosh'."

 

"You own any copies from Miss Bathory?"

 

"I posses one of only remaining first edition copies of Camille."

 

"No others?"

 

"I donated all of my other Bathory books to the Skaal people when I visited Solsthiem to learn there rich mythology nine years ago, their shaman was quite the fan of her works."

 

"What do you know of the dragon priests?" He moved the fingers a bit deeper, which was hard without getting the arm in a weird angle, hoping for one final twitch. 

 

"Lieutenants and servants to Alduin, high ranking members of the Dragoncult. A small group of them supposedly received powerful masks as rewards for there faith and loyalty. The Skaal identify the Traitor, as a former Dragonpriest known as Miraak."

 

"Are you writing on a book right now?" Slightly disappointed by the lack of twitching he increased the intensity of the spell even more. 

 

Instead of twitching, Lizzie was digging her nails into the wooden table, biting her tounge, "A simple romance novel. Partial inspired by the third era masterpiece Lilly In The Imperial Garden."

 

Feeling the lack of twitching, but the increase in tension, he increased the spell more, to the level of power required to get a honest reaction out of Maggie. "You think the upcoming war might have some good material for a book?" 

 

Lizzie eyes went wind open, her hands started twitching nervously, Emily whose face turned red, said, "Adam cover your ears." Adam nodded his small head, "Okay big sis." He plugged his ears, Emily shouted, in an angry and commanding voice that made her sound like drill sergeant, "Fingering my sister, in front of my little brother, is that any way to act at the dinner table?!"

 

He smiled a bit amused and pulled back his and wiped it clean on his already somewhat dirty robe. I should get rid of cat blood some day. But then he turned his attention back to Emily as his arm and the illusion of it got into the same place on the table. "Just wanted to see how she would react. And he couldn't see. He wasn't even paying attention. Only one who brings attention to it is you." 

 

"Yeah, ever though the kid would ask why his sister is drooling like an ape, moaning like a wraith, and spazing around like a mental patient?!"

 

"Emily!!!" Cried Lizzy, waving her arms, "You're overreacting."

 

"She wasn't moaning, nor drooling. And I'm done. And he's none the wiser of what was going on. Unless you wish to tell him."

 

"I-"

 

"Why hello there, Lord Snow-Strider!!!" Just before Emily could speak, a man entered into the room carrying a huge pot. The man himself was huge, and while you could tell he was chubby, he was also big boned, and did have muscle. He was also short. He had light blonde hair, that was mixed with strands of grey, along with having a huge grey beard. He was wearing expensive looking clothing, and had a large ruby ring on his left hand. His voice was Jolly and energetic, matching his appearance. He placed the huge pot on the table, before giving him a bow, "I am William Motierre, uncle to her majesty Dales Motierre, and head of the Motiere family."

 

"I'm sure you are. Though I would argue Dales is the head of the family, although in a different way." Skjari said, trying to sound glad. Then he gave Emily a quick glance along with a small spell under the table that made her hear his voice from behind. "And don't worry about your little brother, I didn't survive this long without knowing how to keep people distracted." 

 

Emily gave him a slight smile, nodding her head. William laughed, a loud and jovial laugh, "Little Dales is of course the head of the country, handling nation wide matters. Say..." He looked at him, examining him with same look Emily gave him early at the door, "Couldn't believe it when I heard you were marrying little Dales, you have no breasts." 

 

"Here we go again." He rolled his eyes. "Though I have to say I do have 'breasts' as any other human being. They just happen to be made of muscles rather than milk factories."

 

"Dales certainly likes her milk factories!" He said laughing, "She would occasionally tell me about her conquests in her teenage years, always knew she swung that way, instead of simple experimenting."

 

"So, about that stew?"

 

Laughing, he said, "Oh listen to me ramble about the empress. Here." He went over, carrying a large bowl, "Nords eat alot, so here's a large portion." He filled it with stew, made from all sorts of vegetables, and what looked like beef, he handed it to the mage. 

 

"Thank you." Skjari said as as he took the spoon and took the first taste. "Tastes good." And it was the truth as he started eating more and more, barely stopping just to catch a breath. 

 

"Hmm." Skjari said nodding and with mouth filled with stew. 

 

"Well thank you." Adam, Lizzy, and yes, even Emily, had already gotten there portions, and started to dig in. 

 

When his bowl was empty, Skjari quickly had the bowl filled with some stew flying through the air. He thought about starting a conversation but instead settled on teasing Emily. So sent another spell at Emily that made her hear him whisper slyly into her ear. "You still curious?"

 

She smiled amused, and spoke in the regular way, "My heart belongs to one person, as I told your earlier. Sorry lover boy."

 

Skjari looked at her, pretending a look of confusion. "What?" As to the others, she was answering an unspoken question.

 

"What was that Emily?" Asked William, sitting down, preparing to pig out. "Who does my daughters sweet heart belong too?"

 

Emily looked at Skjari, giving him an annoyed look, "No one father." 

 

Skjari just shrugged at it all like he didn't know what it was about. He knew that what he was doing was childish and unnecessary, but after the last stressful weeks he felt like he could loosen up a bit. At least for a moment. When the second bowl was finished he still felt like he could get down a little bit more. But he refrained from taking a little more stew for the moment. "Will there be any desert?" He asked instead.

 

"Cake. My future in-law is visiting, I thought I would make it a special occasion."  Said William chuckling.

 

"I'm surprised you managed to whip up a cake in such short notice." Then his thoughts trailed back to antagonizing Emily a bit more. But he didn't manage to come up with an idea that he felt sure that he could get away with. 

 

"I am a master chief, second only to the gourmet." He said laughing.

 

Skjari looked around and saw that everyone seemed o be done with the stew. "Lets have some cake." 

 

William snapped his figures, causing servants to bring in a large, chocolate cake.

They ate and talked about little things, boring and unimportant Skjari thought, but he knew that he needed to be able to handle some noble socializing. So when the cake was done he didn't waste much time to pick up his gauntlets get up from the table. "Now if you excuse me. I'm going to retire for the night."

 

Lizzy got of her chair, saying "Me too." 

 

Skjari left the room and headed down the hallway. The room was one would expect of such a family. A big window with large curtains tied up on the sides on the opposite side of the door. A double bed with clean and soft sheets standing up against the far left door. And a small table with a few trinkets on it and two padded and decorated chairs to the right of the window. And a tall wardrobe on the wall to the right. 

Skjari didn't really bother with the wardrobe and just took off the robe and threw it at one of the chairs along with the gauntlets. He placed the boots near the legs of the chair as well and the sword left to lean against the armrest. Now all he wearing nothing more than his black woolen pants he sat down in the other empty chair. There he waited. He looked a little closer at the stuff on the table. But there were nothing of interest, just a feather pen, an ink pot and some paper. There were also three Septims on the table, probably left behind by the last guest. Which wouldn't be that surprising given how some nobles treated coin. Some things hadn't changed in the last thousands of years. 

 

Lizzy, entered, wearing only a thin nightgown, she asked, "You ready for business?" 

 

He gave her a light smile. "I've been warming up since dinner."

 
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Boldir, Vex, Carlotta, Mila

Riften, Vex's house

Nine days into hiding

 

The hour was late, but Boldir and Carlotta still poured over maps of the city and surrounding lands. By the second day of hiding, Boldir had figured that they needed a plan to escape more than just the city. The Rift was huge, and if the way Maul's men searched the city was any indication, he was sure that word would be out to any of the bandits, travelers, or Rift patrols that there was a large Nord with a price on his head. Maven was not fool enough to put everything on his inability to get out of the city, though right now, even that task was beyond daunting.

"How well does Vex know the sewers?" he asked.

 

"Better than most." Carlotta responded. Her husband had asked Vex herself the same question days ago, and gotten a similar answer. Boldir still had not given up hope that there was some way to escape under the walls. If Vex knew of no way out through the Ratways, then she was certain that there wasn't one. Her sister had been exploring those foul-smelling tunnels since she was little more than a child.

 

"But does she know them entirely?" Boldir knew he came across as somewhat desperate, but in truth, he was. Walking out of either gate was not an option. Even reaching one of them would be tricky with their hideout being so close to the center of town, and with neither gate near the canals. The only other ways were going under, or through the water. "What if there are ways she does not know? Riften is huge, and older than anyone. And you see here?" he pointed to a spot on the map where the boundary lines faded, as if there was no wall in the spot. It is not entirely complete. Surely she does not know the entire sewers?"

 

Carlotta pointed at the map. Vex had drawn it herself. "If it's not on here, she doesn't know of it, and if that's the case, no one else knows either. And we certainly won't be finding any."

She looked at Boldir and smiled sadly. Her husband was exhausted, she knew. She awoke every morning to find him sitting up staring at maps, or downstairs sharpening his axe. More than once these past few days, she'd come up on him frowning muttering quietly to himself. Baldur's name came up multiple times, along with a couple she'd never heard, but her husband would always brush the subject away when she inquired.

He did most of the planning, or attempted planning, but he still liked it when she was with him for it. And at times like this, when he was going on little sleep, her input and reminders of things he couldn't recall were actually helpful. Still, she had a bad feeling inside her. They had all been trying to come up with ideas to escape almost constantly for the last ten days. If they had not thought of anything in that time, odds are that it was because the Black-Briars had thought of how to counter it in their decades of running the city.

Carlotta reached over to brush Boldir's hair with her fingers. There were a few new faint strands of gray among the dark black. "You are too young for gray hair," she said.

 

Boldir allowed his frown to fade a little, and he brought his hand up to hold hers. "And you are too young to be married to a graying Nord."

 

Carlotta laughed dryly. "At this rate, mine will quickly follow."

 

There was a slamming of the door, and they both turned to see a very unhappy-looking Vex storm into the room. She wordlessly came over to them and took a seat. "You two are supposed to do this stuff upstairs." she said, turning over a small bag on the counter and spilling out some coins, which she immediately took to counting.

 

"Mila's sleeping up there." Carlotta answered, letting go of Boldir's hair. "We didn't want to disturb her with this." It was true, but another crucial reason was that they didn't want her to see just how little they had accomplished, or how frustrated they were. They didn't want to scare her more than she already was.

 

"Well that's tough shit." Vex responded annoyedly. "It'll be even tougher if Maul kicks in the door one day and walks in on you two twiddling your thumbs in the middle of my kitchen... So, did either of you come up with any miracle plans while I was gone?"

 

"What do you think?" Carlotta said. "Though we did wonder how much of the sewers this map covers. I take it you're aware of the missing spots."

 

Vex shrugged and pushed her paltry amount of coin back into the bag. "Those are just faded. They aren't the best maps. Trust me, there's nothing down there that leads out of the city. I'd know if there was, and it wouldn't matter, because so would Maul.

"And speaking of the brute, You may be interested to hear the latest news. This morning, a couple guildmates, the Crow-Mouth brothers, decided they weren't happy with his lockdown. One of his thugs was harassing them as they always do, and the brothers snapped. Maul's guy was bigger than the two of them together, but that didn't save him when their daggers poked him a couple dozen times."

 

"Where are they now?" Carlotta asked, although she knew she wouldn't like the answer.

 

"Stuck on spikes atop the keep wall." Vex responded.

 

"They can do that?"

 

"They can do whatever they want. Our 'decorated' Commander of the guard is as deep in Maven's pocket as the Jarl and anyone else. I'd imagine Maul urged him to use this as an example. Though more likely, his reason's to scare us. He wants whoever's hiding you to to see he that means business. Just like with Mjoll."

 

"Speaking of her, is there any word on Aerin?"

 

"None." Vex shrugged. "Odds are little brother's dead or fled himself."

 

Carlotta had lost a lot of sleep worrying about her little brother, but coming to terms with losing him was easier with her family around. She had to stay strong for her daughter.

 

"I'd probably be able to find him, dead or alive, if everyone in the guild was not being watched so closely. I've been reporting empty news to Maul every day, and it only makes him angrier. They have no leads to find you, and it has been some time now. I think they are finally starting to grow desperate."

 

"They have to give this up eventually." said Carlotta. She looked to her husband for confirmation. He hadn't spoken since Vex came in. "Right? I mean, they can't keep the guild cut off and the city on alert forever. If we hold out long enough, they'll stop looking and that will be our chance."

 

"That won't work." Boldir finally said. "This city is large, but so long as there's no escape, the Black-Briars know they can find us eventually."

 

Carlotta was not one to curse, but she had never wanted to as much as she did at that moment. Instead, she grinded her teeth and breathed deeply. "It has been over a week. If we do not come up with something soon, what you speak of will come to pass. Vex already said that they will hire more skilled searchers as they get more desperate."

 

"They probably already have." Vex admitted.

 

There was a long silence as they took that in. They could not remain here for much longer. "How guarded are the gates by now?" Boldir asked, suddenly feeling much less tired as an idea began to formulate. If their hunters would soon be taking drastic measures, they must as well.

 

"Heavily." answered the thief. "There's always a Black-Briar man waiting, and four or so archers up on the wall. Plus one or two guys outside."

 

"Heavy for a city wall, but not too heavy. I can handle the ones on the ground, but the archers..."

 

"Boldir," Carlotta felt bad for her husband. He was tired and desperate, and normally would know that the three of them could never reach the gate together, let alone get past those guarding it. "you need some rest. We can't just fight our way out of here."

 

"Why not?" She believes that I'm not thinking clearly. "I can handle the men on the ground, just so long as the archers can be distracted. Killed would be even better. We can steal horses from the stables and ride for Eastmarch. It'll be a weak head start. Only minutes most likely. But if we ride hard, we can beat them. They cannot touch us in Windhelm, especially not once Baldur is back."

 

"And what about us?" Carlotta asked, "Do you really want to put Mila at risk by bringing her into a fight? She could be killed!"

 

"Of course I don't, but if we stay here much longer, she will be killed. I am not so slow that I cannot deal with two men. You and Mila will do no fighting. I can shave my head and beard. That may at least make reaching the gate a little easier. Vex, do you know anyone that you trust? Someone who could help us deal with the archers?"

 

"For free? No." Vex shrugged, "but I do have a few friends in the guild who may do something quick so long as they can be assured that it will not be traced to them, and that they are paid well. One, a fella named Molgrom Twice-Killed, hates the Black-Briars more than most. They hired him for a fake job and then arranged for him to be caught. He was their scapegoat. They even let him rot in this city's prison for several years. He'll do it just for the chance to spite Maven. He's said nothing yet, but I think he's close to snapping and doing what the Crow-Mouths did. This'll let him blow off that steam where it's useful."

 

"He would kill these men, if asked?"

 

"Without a second thought."

 

"Good." Boldir looked at Carlotta. "I am not making this decision without you, but after almost ten days of hiding, I see no other way."

 

"I say we do it." Fear gripped at Carlotta. It was her only natural reaction to the fact that, despite all of the killing and danger in this plan, she actually was willing to go along with it.

 

"That is good to hear. Vex?"

 

"Hey, I don't have to get my hands any more dirty than they are, so what the hell? I'll talk to Molgrom and some others tomorrow." She looked at her sister as she stood. "Maybe one of those gods you like will notice me for this."

 

Carlotta chuckled as Vex left the room. "Maybe." she said before turning to Boldir. She ran a finger through his hair again. "Can you make me a promise?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Promise me that you will leave out the gray bits when you grow this back." Boldir chuckled as she continued, "Because you're right. I'm too young to be married to a graying old brute."

 

Boldir turned and kissed her. They sat there together for a while, deep in thought, but hopeful for the first time in a while. Crude as it was, they now had a plan, and it helped both of them sleep easier.

 

***

The next evening

 

It was not quite dark yet, but the moons were already visible nonetheless. The single window in the room gave way to them, and despite their light not being yet apparent in contrast to that of the sun, it was still enough to bring out the power in Mila's dagger. Her eyes were fixated on the beautiful glowing blade, it's fox-shaped carvings were just visible beneath the white radiance.

Boldir sat in the chair beside her, right beneath the window. He was explaining to her the importance of keeping the weapon clean and in good shape. Not that that had ever really been a problem. She cleaned and polished the dagger regularly, despite the fact that it was never used. Since they'd held up in Vex's house, regularly had become every few hours. At Boldir's urging, she handed it to him.

 

"I've seen you keeping it up on your own time." he said, as if he'd heard her thoughts. "Even before we came here. That's a good habit. Don't ever drop it." Mila took in his praise, but didn't say anything. Her anger towards him had subsided with the passing days, but that did not mean that her mood was positive. Being trapped inside the same home for so long was more than frustrating.

 

Boldir turned over the dagger in his hands, looking it over. "You know, when people have a valuable or special weapon, they often name them. Have you put any thought into that?" He handed the dagger back.

 

"A name?" Naming it had never even crossed Mila's mind. Although now that she thought about it. It was fairly common. All of the great heroes had named weapons. Everyone knew of Ysgramor's great axe Wuuthrad, or the burning Goldbrand sword that is said to pass from hero to hero, never remaining with one for long. "No, I hadn't thought about..." Mila paused, trying to think if a good name but drawing up blank. It was harder than she'd expected. "I can't think of anything. "You made it. Do you have any ideas?"

 

Boldir chuckled. It may be brief, but his plan to distract her mind from all that anger seemed like it could work. Mila deserved a happy moment with all that she was going through. "I made it, but it's yours. You should be the one to name it. You don't have to right now. I'm sure it'll come to you."

 

"Yeah, I think I'll wait. Naming something shouldn't be so hard!" For the first time in over a week, Mila's angry frown faded. She looked like the thoughtful young girl that he knew and loved.

 

"You'd think that, but it seems to me that most people would agree with you. I think it's because if you care about something enough to name it, you want to give it the right name. A fitting one to be proud of."

 

Mila nodded. It made sense. She glanced at Boldir's own weapon. The large war axe that had not left his side since things got bad. But weapon's can't be proud of names... A thought dawned on Mila, one that never had occurred to her before. "Boldir... can I ask you a question?"

 

He looked at her curiously. "Sure Mila, go ahead."

 

"Did- err... Do you have a kid?"

 

"Huh?" Boldir looked at her, surprise written all over his face. It seemed like that happened to both him and mother when she asked questions like this. It made her feel guilty for it, but she had to ask. She had been with mother before the marriage, after all. She had been very young, too young to even remember much, but she had once had a real father. What if Boldir had had a wife one time as well? And a kid of his own?

He recovered himself quickly though, and he answered easily. "No, Mila. I've never had a child of my own. I wouldn't keep something like that from you."

 

"Oh," she glanced around awkwardly, hoping to find something else to talk about. "So what did you name your axe?" She pointed at the one at his side. "Or the broken one back home?"

 

"I never named either." he said. "I'd thought about it before, but had the same problem as you, then I figured they were fine without names. Named weapons are special, and belong to heroes and great people. Why do you think I expect you to name yours?"

 

That made her smile, which in turn, made him smile as well. "Then yours should have names too." Mila said the words before she even knew she meant to. Boldir had done a lot. He had helped stop the elves down south, and he'd fought the bandits that threatened Whiterun. He was the reason she was able to come out on this trip and meet Aerin and Vex. She'd gotten to ride a large boat, and swim in the hot springs, and touch the magical standing stones. All because of him. And he planned to do so much more. I haven't been fair. she realized. Boldir brought them here with good intentions, and almost managed to get them out as well. So, he lied to her. But he had done so much good as well.

Mila carefully sheathed her dagger and reached over to wrap her arms around him in a hug. "I'm sorry." she said.

 

Boldir enclosed the girl in his arms. "So am I."

 

After the long embrace, Mila finally pulled back with the biggest smile on her face Boldir had seen since the day they'd been forced to leave the inn. "What about Milk Spiller?" she asked.

 

Boldir looked puzzled. "What?"

 

She nodded at his axe. "For a name. Because it upset so many southerners in the war."

 

Boldir began to chuckle, and before long, he was laughing as he had not in a very long time. A year ago, the term milk-drinker was one Mila wouldn't have heard but in passing. Being around him, and most likely Baldur as well, had impacted the girl more than he knew. The thought was a scary one, but hearing his stepdaughter make milk-drinking jokes tickled him more than anything in the world. By the time he began to catch his breath, Mila had begun laughing too, and Carlotta was standing in the doorway with a worried expression.

 

"Sure," came Vex's voice from somewhere off behind his wife, "let's just make as much noise as possible while hiding from thugs and assassins."

 

He ignored her and closed his hand around the axe's hilt. "You know, I like that." It wasn't a heroic name that would be remembered in songs or tales, but then again, neither was his. "Now you work on yours while I go upstairs and get something." That something was his journal. He'd not written in it since things went downhill, and he was still unsure if he would include all that had transpired in Riften. The real events were shameful enough. Writing them down would only serve to one day remind him of things he fully intended to put behind him. But Baldur would not forgive him if he neglected to write down what caused him to start calling his axe something as ridiculous as 'Milk Spiller'.

 

He got out of his seat and made his way upstairs, where he lifted the trap door and climbed up into the large attic room. He headed towards the window at the other side, but stopped at one of the large "trophy" shelves along the wall on the way. He found himself staring in slight awe at a golden ornamented dragon statue. It must have been worth a small fortune on its own. It's no wonder she never sold this stuff. These are items that belong to Jarls and Thanes. She keeps them because of her pride.

Boldir couldn't believe that of all people, it was Vex who was helping them. He'd killed plenty of soldiers who were probably better than her, thieves as well, but not as good at what they did. And now he was putting his life, and the lives of his family in her hands. It made him feel a little sick to his stomach. Just one more day. By this time tomorrow, we will be riding for Windhelm.

He turned from the case and began to head for the round window at the far end of the room.

 

The "whooshing" sound registered in his ears after just three steps. He didn't have time to make a move before a searing pain blasted across his upper back, the force behind it sending him forward onto his knees. The unexpected burning sensation forced a pained shout out of his lips as he fell.

 

***

 

"Aaaaargh!"

 

Mila jumped from her seat in fright, drawing her dagger. "What was that!?" the girl cried. "Aunt Vex? Ma? What was-"

 

"Shut up!" Vex hissed. Shit. We took too long! "Get to the back door! And sheath that dagger!" Mila obeyed without question. Carlotta appeared from the kitchen.

 

"Boldir is up there." she said, eyeing her sister.

 

There was some muffled yelling from up above. The tone of it sounded taunting. "The big man can handle himself." Vex said. "If they're bad enough to stop him, we aren't gonna make a bit of difference. What matters is your daughter."

 

Mila drew her dagger again. The fear on her face was still apparent, but there was a braveness there that Boldir would have been proud of. "We should help!" .

 

Vex balled her fists. "For the love of-"

 

"Vex is right." Carlotta said, "I need to get you out of here first. We'll send help for Boldir once you are safe." She wasn't sure how, but that would come later.

 

"How can you say that?!" Mila's eyes began to blur. The tears were of shock and anger more than sadness. "We can't just him!"

 

There was crash upstairs. It sounded like glass was breaking. Shit! Vex thought, They're breaking my stuff! "Look, This will go a lot easier if I don't have to carry you unconscious across town," Vex shouted. "but I am five seconds away from doing just that if you don't put up your damn dagger and listen to me!"

 

Mila looked from one woman to the other. Her expression defeated. "He could-"

 

"You've seen what Boldir can do, sweetie." Carlotta was surprised by the lack of fear in her own voice. She needed to appear brave for her daughter. "Even more than I have. He'll manage, and he'd want you in as safe a place as possible." It pained her to say it, as she wanted nothing more to go upstairs and help in whatever meager way she could, but Mila was the priority. She always had been.

She opened the door and ushered Mila out. The girl's feet reluctantly moved along with her. Vex followed and locked the door behind them.

 

"Besides," Vex said, as she led them over a fence and through a neighbor's backyard, "you aren't gonna do much with that dagger that he can't do alone. He's a fighter. You can't help him."

 

Mila sheathed her dagger and tucked it under her coat as Vex lead them away. "You're wrong." she muttered as her mind went back to her wooden sword and Silent Moons camp. I've helped him with less.

 

***

 

Boldir didn't have to reach back and feel to know that the back of his shirt was on fire. Quickly, he tugged it off and threw it away, then immediately dived to the right, behind the freshly-made bed. It was a good thing he did. A second fireball scorched the wood where he'd been kneeling. His back felt aflame, and he wanted to shout out, but didn't. There'd be a burn scar, no doubt, but he'd worry about that later. He had to stop this person before they could do any more damage, or worse, go downstairs. He felt a ping of dread when he realized that whoever it was, they must have slipped by everyone downstairs in order to set up this ambush.

 

"What was your plan if the first hit didn't kill me?!" He shouted, slowly raising up with his newly-named war axe in hand. This time, fully prepared to dodge whatever was thrown his way.

The room was empty.

 

"No!" Boldir hurried for the trap door. He couldn't think about what would happen if this assailant made it to Carlotta or Mila. A pair of lights appeared in the far corner of the room, one small orange and one large and green. The orange one suddenly grew larger and larger as a fireball hurled toward him, once again catching Boldir off-guard.

 

"Damn!" He barely managed to dodge to the left, and felt the flames lick at his bare shoulder, scorching his skin, but grazing by rather than striking him. He didn't cry out this time, but it hurt like the pits of Oblivion. Now Boldir saw that the larger green flash revealed the previously-invisible caster. She wore dark black leather armor with red padding mixed in. Her face was hidden behind a dark hood and a red mask that covered all but her shadowed eyes.

Boldir charged. Now ready, he easily dodged a third ball of fire as he crossed the room. The assassin didn't remain idle though. She was not big. Barely taller than Mila, but she was agile, easily hopping onto a small table along the wall as she used both hands to fling two weaker fire spells his way.

 

One of the spells immediately dissipated as Boldir caught it with Milk Spiller. The other flew past and struck the far wall, beside the window, blackening the wood, but otherwise doing no damage. When Boldir reached the assassin, he swung his axe high diagonally. He was surprised when he struck the wall, sinking his blade deep into it. The woman had leaped over his strike and landed cleanly on the larger round table behind him. She turned and flung another fireball his way. Boldir dislodged his axe and backed up with the momentum of it, so narrowly avoiding this spell that he could smell the singed hair in his beard. He kicked a wooden chair her way and pressed after her.

 

The assassin easily blew the chair to bits with a fireball, then charged a green illusion spell in her left hand, and another fire one in her right. She was prepared to avoid another axe swing, but Boldir instead used his left side to ram the table, flipping it, and sending both it and her across the room. The assassin fell back and did a roll upon hitting the ground, ending up crouched on her feet. The table, however, didn't have her grace, and crashed into one of Vex's display bookcases along the wall behind her. Thousands of septims worth in stolen goods crashed to the ground, most breaking on impact, and littering the ground beside the beds in shattered glass and pottery.

 

Her easy recovery frustrated Boldir. He'd have to get some solid blows on her eventually, he knew, or she'd wear him out with all the spells. At least the green ones she'd been charging were lost when she fell. He pushed in, not wanting to give her time to remedy that. The assassin dodged his next swing, and his next, swiftly and gracefully dancing around them the way an ice wraith does. Though this one wielded fire and tricks. Even as she dodged, her left hand sent short spurts of flames his way, forcing Boldir to avoid them the same way he would any blade. Fortunately, the flames were weak, and dissipated as soon as they hit the quicksilver axe.

There was a flash of gold as her right hand drew an elven dagger, holding it backwards with the blade facing outward rather than in. It was a purely offensive style for a purely offensive weapon. She was quick, and dodged well, not needing to block, just parry. Fortunately for him, Boldir was almost as quick and many times as strong. She could not get close enough to get a good strike with the dagger, thanks to his axe's better reach, but he could not allow her to get far from him, as that was when she could use her slower, but more powerful spells. That proved difficult, given her speed and magic. Every time Boldir came close to landing a killing blow, her hand would glow, and the assassin would disappear but for a shimmer, and reappear clear of the swing, and so he found himself all over the room, attacking a target he could not hit. When he did lock weapons with her, it was always brief. She would parry and dodge and send flame his way, and then disappear soon after.

It took a while, but eventually, she began disappearing less, and dodging lower, farther to his left. Boldir could tell she was trying to get around him, to get a jab at his back and end this with one strike, and was probably getting nervous about her own magic supplies as well. Finally, she went for it. It was a risky move that she hoped would leave him open. The assassin parried a blow from his axe and then feigned to his right before spinning to his left. She brought her dagger and her flaming palm around and drove both towards his exposed rib cage. The dagger was caught in the hook of his axehead, and the hand found itself burning nothing but air. Boldir had been prepared for the move, and dodged forward accordingly. The hooked axe was a move he had never attempted to block a dagger, but it worked, and he didn't hesitate to capitalize on it. He stepped in and grabbed her free hand with a much larger one of his own, clenching it hard so that she could not summon up another thrice-damned spell.

He heard a finger bone break in his grasp, and the woman made a noise for the first time as she shouted out. He only gripped her hand tighter, and then did something he hadn't done in a long time, and despite everything, it felt good. Iron-Brow flung his forehead forward, meeting the area between her eyes with a loud, satisfying crack.

 

He let go of her hand, and the assassin immediately stumbled back, moaning and disoriented. Boldir smiled at the light trail of blood he saw between her now-crossed eyes. The blow threw her hood off, and he found that she had matted brown hair nearly down to her shoulders.

"How did you find us?!" he shouted. Stepping closer to her to keep within striking distance. He wanted an answer, but wouldn't hesitate to kill this woman if he had to.

 

The dazed assassin had lost her dagger, and she had a hard time focusing to conjure up a spell. Still, she was a professional, and she had no intention of answering. She backed up, towards the small table she had jumped on earlier, all the while trying to clear her head.

 

"Does anyone else know we're here?" He shouted, stepping closer. "Does Maven?!"

 

The assassin closed her eyes and focused. Calm spell. She needed a calm spell. A powerful one. Her hands glowed green and when she opened her eyes, the big axe was being raised to strike. She let the spell fly. "You don't want to hurt me." she said calmly, but with a commanding tone. Still midcast, it almost sounded layered.

 

Boldir felt the spell hit him like a punch, and he planted one foot back. She had a sweet voice, one of the sweetest he'd him ever heard. It almost seemed unreal. She's right. he thought. She's not Maven. I've got no quarrel with this woman. He noticed that the assassin no longer looked so confused as before. But there still was a thin trail of blood running from her hair down to her mask. I headbutted her! "I'm sorry about that." he said.

 

"It's fine." said the assassin sweetly. "Now how about you put down your axe and head over by far window over there?"

 

"Why the hell would I do that?"

 

"Because that was a very strong spell, friend. My magicka is too low to cast any more. I need to drink a potion, and I don't feel safe doing it with you standing there with your axe in my face."

 

"Seems fair." Boldir threw Milk Spiller aside and walked across the room.

So we're friends now? That's what she said, isn't it? Something felt wrong about that, but he had a hard time placing it.

 

She's not your friend idiot! She's using a spell! You saw her charge it!

 

What? If that is true, why would she- Boldir forced his eyes shut as he walked. She's messing with your head! Turn around and get ready!

Boldir turned, and all doubt left his mind. He groaned. "Damn mages."

 

There, across the room, stood the assassin. Her hands glowed as a ball of flame the size of a campfire engulfed them. "Dodge this one." she muttered irritably. She let the fully charged spell fly.

Everything felt like it was moving at half speed. Boldir instinctively dove to the right to avoid the massive fireball. That would have turned out well had it been the same fire spell as the others. Just as Boldir hit the ground and covered his head, there was a deafening BOOM, and what seemed like the entire world went up in flames. He closed his eyes and felt himself leave the ground, wind rushing through his hair. It felt as though he was flying. Flying and burning. His left arm and back were blistering with heat, and it was spreading. He could feel the fire burning straight through his left pants leg as well, stabbing at the old scar Lorgar had given him in what could've been a lifetime ago. The pain was immense. Greater than any he'd ever felt. Boldir couldn't focus on anything at that moment. Not the assassin, not his well-being. Even thoughts of Carlotta proved elusive. It was just the burning, searing, melting pain, and him. It was the greatest bliss he had ever felt when the back of his head finally struck something hard and everything faded away.

 

***

 

Everyone in the city heard it, many of them saw it, when Vex's house, just across a canal from the market district, seemed to explode from the inside. They all turned and looked in shock, seeing the giant tower of smoke billowing from the now roofless top floor. Everything that hadn't been blown to bits seemed to be on fire. People were screaming, children were crying, windows were opening, and everyone was hurrying to get closer for a look.

 

Carlotta had rarely seen Vex phased. Never had she seen her afraid, or upset, or depressed. It had always been anger. Now, her big sister looked nothing short of distraught.

"No..." Vex didn't bother to remain hidden anymore. She stepped away from the alley behind the orphanage that they hid in and simply gaped. It was barely even a risk. No guard was paying mind to her. They were all focused on the house. Gathering to it like wolves to a wounded deer. "It's all gone." she muttered. "All of it." she could barely hear the her sister and niece behind her. The screams of fury and sadness, the swears no child should know, the sobs of a newly-made widow. It was all lost to her. Her life's work, her entire life's work was in that house! She could've bought three more of it with the contents inside, and now they were all gone. "I'm going back." she said, half-way understanding what she meant. "I need..." I need to see if there's any..." she didn't bother to finish, and simply shuffled forward in her daze.

 

"Do you even here me?!" Vex did, but she didn't care. Carlotta could scream all day, but none of it mattered. It didn't concern her. She continued on, only to feel a hand on the back of her shoulder stopping her. Immediately, Vex's hand went to the hilt of her quicksilver dagger. It was the last thing she'd ever stolen, and the only thing of value that she had left. She didn't have time to draw it though, as by the time she'd turned, a tightly-balled fist filled her vision and put her on the ground.

 

"Snap out of it!" Carlotta screamed, kneeling over her. She couldn't believe she'd hit her own sister, but she didn't care at this point. The bitch hadn't cared about Boldir. She had only worried about what she had lost, the trinkets and the heist plans and the gold. Boldir was dead. And they needed to get Mila to a safe place now. Vex was the only one who could do it. "For the sake of your family, Vex, ALL you've got left! Snap out of it and get us somewhere safe! We can move now, the guards aren't watching!"

 

Mila still wailed from behind. "My father! You bastards killed my father!" The wailing went on, but she did nothing. Her legs had given out, and she sat on her knees, eyes red and tears flowing freely. The dagger at her side had never felt so useless. She wanted to do something. To take it and go kill the people responsible, but if he couldn't do it, how could she?

"Damn you!" She screamed. "You gods-damned monsters!"

 

"Shh!" Carlotta looked back at her. "I know you're sad Mila, but you've got to stay calm for now, or you'll give us away. I'm going to get you some place safe. We can be angry there." Or sad. she told herself, Save the tears for then.

 

"Shut up!" the girl shouted back. "You left him! Both of you! You made me leave him! And now you want to leave again instead of fight!" Mila fought back the tears, trying to hide the sadness and look as angry and strong as she knew Boldir would. She couldn't do it. A new fit of sadness hit her and she broke down again, falling to her shaking palms and crying her eyes out.

 

Carlotta didn't know what to say, but she knew that her first job as a mother was to get Mila to safety, no matter how badly it hurt her to put what had happened behind her. She turned back to Vex, who looked at her with a scowl.

"Will you help us? Now is the best time to move."

 

Vex had gotten over the shock of what her sister had done, and was now thinking about what she'd said. Her family had never been around, except for Carlotta. Now, just like when they were children, her sister was all she had. Her and her girl. She wanted to hit her back and leave, and it took every ounce of will not to, but doing so would ruin the last thing she could truly say was "her's". It was "her" family. "Fine." she said, getting up and ignoring her sister's hand offering to assist.

 

"I'm not going!" Mila got out between sobs. "You're both... You're both Milk-Drinkers!"

 

"You are." said Vex, casually walking her way. "Get up now."

 

Mila remained where she was. "If we run... No!" she screamed again, this time finally standing up and drawing her dagger. "I'm going to kill Maven!"

 

"Shut your trap or you'll get us killed!" Vex growled. Even with the commotion across town, such words were dangerous. She glanced around to make sure nobody had heard. Fortunately, there was a large gathering at the canal around her burning home. This side of town was deserted. Even the shopkeepers were away from their stands.

"Look, the sewer entrance isn't far, and it should be safe long enough for the three of us to come up with a way to escape town together. My friends will be there, so it'll be easy. Come on, we're going right now."

 

Mila shook her head. The sobbing had let up. "I mean it." she said, her voice hoarse and still very saddened.

 

"So do I." Without warning, Vex snatched Mila's dagger from her, spun her around, and wrapped an arm around the girl's neck.

 

"Stop!" Carlotta shouted. It was too late. Vex eased up, and the unconscious Mila slumped to the ground.

 

"What?" Vex shrugged as she lifted Mila over her shoulder and grabbed her dagger. "You are the one who made it clear that family isn't off-limits anymore. Like I said, we aren't far at all. Let's go." She set off, with Carlotta following close behind, eyeing her carefully. Within minutes, they were down beside the canal, and after that, in the sewers. It would be a bit of a trek through them, but soon enough, they would be in the "Ratway", or as Vex had once referred to it, "The Worst Place in Riften."

 

***

 

"Uuugh" Boldir couldn't move. There was a massive weight on top of him. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils, and as he came to, the powerful burning sensation hit him again like a million daggers. There were no flames on him anymore, but whatever weighed him down pushed hard against every burn he had, and there were many. He slowly opened his eyes, only to see darkness. Something was covering his face as well. He struggled a bit, slowly and carefully, and managed to, with no small amount of pain, remove his right arm from under his side. He brought it up and pushed on whatever blocked his vision. The object happened to be a piece of shingle, and moved easily. He now saw what had happened. The damn mage had blown the place up! A dark, smoke-filled evening sky looked down on him where the roof should have been, and the entire front wall, with the window, was missing. The fires had yet to spread across the entire room, so he couldn't have been out for long at all. He turned his head and saw the assassin. She hadn't found him yet it seemed, as she was crouched nearby, beside the missing wall, looking down towards where the canal would be. She thinks I fell down there. It was no wonder. The entire room was covered in rubble and fire. She must have lost sight of him in the explosion.

 

Boldir carefully and quietly tried his best to feel around for his axe, but found nothing. Then he silently cursed as he remembered that the witch had managed to get him to throw it aside across the room.

He couldn't move much with all the weight on him. It looked like one of Vex's tall bookshelves that was used for trophies. It was hot, and smelled of smoke as well. This thing is on fire! he realized frantically. Calm down. Calm down. It's not hurting you yet. It's the top that's burning... I need to get this off of me. It'll be loud. I need to reach her before she can cast again.

 

Boldir put both palms on the case and began to push. "Mmph!" He bit his lip to keep from shouting out. Just trying to move this thing felt like driving a new wave of flaming knives into his burned arms and back.

You can do this! You HAVE to get to them.

Boldir wiped the blood off his lip and prepared for another go. Alright, PUSH!

 

"Aaaagh!"

The assassin spun around at the noise. Her eyes went wide as a large flaming bookcase flew through the air her and crashed into the ground. Before she'd put together what had happened, the large burned Nord was leaping through the fires in her direction. Her potion of nimbleness had worn off just after she'd hit him with the calm spell, and the inferno she'd summoned up had more than drained her magicka. Now it was all she could do to cast a weak ball of fire. The berserked, adrenaline-filled Nord didn't even seem to notice it hit his chest as he lunged her way. It happened fast. Her first thought was that it felt as though she'd been hit by a huge troll, and then they were airborne.

 

The heat and the smoke of the house finally left Boldir as he tackled the assassin straight through the missing wall. He took a deep breath as they fell. The waters of the canal rushed up to them. There was a loud smack and then they were sinking. The assassin struck the bottom first, and Boldir held her there. He opened his eyes in the murky water, and got close enough to see her own. They struggled for a bit. The assassin tried to kick and thrash, but she had no chance with such weight pinning her to the canal floor. Boldir watched as her head thrashed in every direction and bubbles pushed off her red mask. The woman's fighting eased, and she began to quickly inhale water. Bubbles began forcing out of her mouth in droves. Her eyes briefly bulged, and her fingers dug deep into his forearms, but then it all stopped, and she was dead.

 

Boldir let go of the mage's corpse and kicked hard on the canal floor, bringing himself up to the surface. He inhaled deeply when his head came up, and he allowed himself to momentarily float there, at ease. The water was filthy, but it felt wonderful. His burns stung, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain brought upon by contact with the air. He could have floated there with his eyes closed forever, but he knew that he had to find his family. There was no way that they would have remained in the house throughout all of that. Even more pressing though, he had to escape this scene before the guards-

 

"Hey you! Can you hear me!?"

 

Damnit! Boldir turned towards the caller. As he'd feared, it was a Riften guard, fully armored, standing on the boardwalk along the side of the canal. Along the walkway were four more guards just like him. A thousand pairs of eyes looked down on the scene from the market above.

 

"That's a 'yes' then." the guard said loudly. "You need to come with us. We can see about doing something for those burns."

 

Boldir ignored him and turned away, back towards the opposite side. There were two more guards waiting there, bows drawn, but no arrows knocked. Above them, Vex's entire house looked to be ablaze. Smoke was rising far above the city walls.

 

"Come on!" the guard urged. Boldir simply shook his head and slowly began to swim down the canal. The familiar sound of a bowstring pulling back stopped him before he went far.

"Listen," the guard said. "You can come with me now, or we'll put an arrow in you for resisting arrest."

He had little choice. Boldir swam to the guard. One of the others joined him and they both hoisted him by the arms out of the water. "Heavy bastard, aren't ya?"

 

Boldir didn't answer, he could barely think at all. After everything, how could he get caught now? Maven's assassin failed, but she had him anyway. Maybe that was the plan all along.

He ignored the onlookers as the guards escorted him up out of the lower levels and through the market. Everyone in the city could see him right now. It was over. All he could hope was that Carlotta and Mila had escaped. If they did, that would be at least one bit of revenge Maven could never get. Too bad it wasn't likely that he'd ever find out. No, he thought, if she has them, she'll tell me. She'll want the pleasure of showing me just how truly she'd won before it's over.

 

They marched him up to Mistveil Keep. There were guards everywhere. He raised his head as he passed up the steps. Behind a row of guards stood three people. One was a younger man with short hair and a familiar, yet unknown face, twisted in a smug grin. He had to be a Black-Briar. Next was a young woman who looked equally familiar. To her right, however, was the one Boldir recognized and dreaded. She stood tall and with a composure only carried by those used to being in charge. Her dark gray linens with simple silver trimmings could have belonged to any lesser noble, but she was anything but lesser. She had long, dark black hair and pale skin. She looked older than he had expected, and thinner, but of all the guards and men around her, not one radiated as much power.

 

Boldir matched Maven's gaze. She didn't look smug or happy that she'd gotten him, or angry for what he'd done. She looked completely neutral, even more professional than the assassin she'd hired. He turned away and looked back ahead. They took a sharp turn away from the gates of Mistveil, and headed down to the right of the castle. Of course they did. That is the way to the dungeons.

 
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Lorgar Grim-maw, Unknown Sniper (WitchKing),

Valenwood,

Noon,

 

"Halt Sergeant."

Lorgar put up his black gloved hand in a fist, crouching onto the ground. He began to observe it for faint footprints or anything that showed humanoid feet had past through this area at some point. At the corner of his eye, he could see his companion, Sergeant Reverus, waiting patiently. The commando was clad in the standard issue longcoat of her unit, with dark green leather cameoed armor underneath. She had black leather boots and leather gloves, and was wearing a Balaclava to cover her face. Lorgar himself was clad in the same equipment, with his Balaclava having a white wolf skull painted over it. The NCO had her hand to her shortblade, and was glancing around nervously, despite the sunlight. 

"Sir, that Dominion officer wasn't too happy to speak with us, maybe these coordinates are faulty?"

Lorgar shook his head, "No, I smell dried blood. The ambush happened here." His enhanced hearing picked up nothing but the ambiance of the forest, along Lorgar and his companion's breathing.

 

A gust of wind came from the side and made the leaves rattle and whiz in the ears. 

 

Next thing Lorgar heard the thud and he turned around to see Reverus have an arrow sticking out from her throat. The arrow had enter the back of her neck and gone halfway through the neck. The arrowhead was barbed. Reverus's stare went empty as she tried to open her mouth as if to say something, but the arrow sticking out right under her jaw prevented her from opening it much. 

 

Lorgar made a move, drawing his longsword from his back, as he caught the women in a dash of speed, before she fell to the ground, with his right arm, "Sergeant!!!" He shouted, ignoring the fact he just gave away his position,

 

Suddenly he felt more than heard an arrow swish by his neck. He felt the pain as the skin broke and blood started to pour out. Bringing the other hand around Agrippa and putting it over the wound, he could tell it was shallow and missed the jugular by less than an inch. 

 

Swearing, Lorgar gently lifted Reverus over his shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he rushed forward with supernatural speed into the cover of the tree, placing the commando behind the tree trunk, he quickly took a bandage from his pack, and futilely tried to stop the bleeding coming from the arrow wound, "Hold on Sergeant, stay with me." He softly said to the wounder soldier, 

 

The Sergeant tried to say something, but only managed to cough out a mouthful of blood. Lorgar slapped her on the face lightly, "Dont you die on me." After applying the bandage, Lorgar took a peek beyond the tree trunk, using his enhanced vision in an attempt to spot the sniper, to no avail. Putting his longsword back in it's sheaf, Lorgar drew his ebony greatbow, notching an arrow with his right hand. He scanned the area for a target.

 

Suddenly Lorgar heard a branch crack from the side and he turned around, another arrow buried itself in the upper arm and through it. The arrow tip also went a little bit into the side of Lorgar's chest. Not far, but far enough for the first barbs on the arrowhead to get under the skin. The arrow was just in the same height as his heart and would most likely have penetrated it if not for the branch breaking. 

 

"ARGHHHHH ****." Lorgar dove to the side, whilst he let loose his own ebony arrow in the direction of were the arrow came from. Taking cover behind another tree, Lorgar grabbed the arrow's shaft, igorning the pain coming from his arm, and broke the wooden arrow shaft in two, muffling his scream of pain. 

 

Lorgar tried focusing, thinking away the pain. He tried drawing a cloak of darkness around himself, but the shadows weren't pure enough at this hour. 

 

Suddenly he heard an arrow be let loose in a nearby tree above him. But the arrow sailed over him, far above him. And when looking up at the tree from where the arrow was let loose, he could see that there was a lot thick branches between him and whoever was firing at him. He then also looked directly above him to see what the arrow may have been aimed as he heard some leaves rattle from above. What he saw was a large green snake taking up almost all of the view as it was about to hit him in the face. 

 

In a flash of speed, Lorgar enhanced reflexes caused him to instantly draw his longsword slashing in the air above him.

 

Cutting the snake in half, Lorgar went back behind the tree, knowing the general location of the sniper, Lorgar sprinted through the forest, leaving the cover of the tree behind, with his longsword drawn out, 

 

An arrow came whistling from the right towards Lorgar, who slashed his sword, deflecting the projectile. He ran forward from were the arrow came, running onward he got closer-

 

Suddenly the ground on were Lorgar stood , vanished, and Lorgar would have fell if he hadn't leaped at the last moment, a pitfall trap. He landed softly on the dirt of a small forest path. Not bothering to glance back, he continued his sprint, 

 

Hircine damn it, does this guy have the entire forest rigged?!

 

Another arrow came straight towards Lorgar's face, coming from his front, instinctively Lorgar avoided it by moving his head to the right,

 

Lorgar, knowing were the arrow had come from, estimated from which tree it had been shot from.  observing the area for any traces of the sniper.  

 

Lorgar knew this man was an excellent marksman, and survivalist. He most likely could remain unseen in the forest if he wished, so Lorgar needed to lure him out. He decided to play Posum,  Letting out a realistic sigh of pain , Lorgar dropped to one knee, holding his arrow wound with his right hand, dropping his sword. As Lorgar did this, he made sure his hearing was able to pick up any sounds of movements, and let his eyes scan the area. 

 

It was quiet for a moment and at first nothing moved but leaves in the wind. But at one area the bark was also moving a little with the leaves. 

 

In the flash of a second, Lorgar let loose a throwing knife from his belt, aimed with almost pint point accuracy at the part of the tree that was moving. He picked up his longsword, dashing forward, 

 

But to his disappointment when he reached the foot of the tree that what came falling down was actually just a piece of bark in which the knife was buried in. The tip was sticking was sticking through on the other side of the little piece and what was most remarkable was that a little bit of the tip was red. And above he heard the sound of movement. But when he looked up it was gone behind another tree.

 

Lorgar drew the knife from the tree, sniffing the blood, and taking in the scent, 

 

I got you now, 

 

Using his keen nose, he tried picking up the smell of blood from anywhere else, 

 

orgar's arm, while hurting like hell, wasn't completely disabled. He scanned the tree tops, searching for his prey, but could only see branches and leaves. He swore under hIs breath, sheathing the knife.  His nose couldn't detect any more blood, 

 

Must be using the bark to mask his scent, smart. 

 

Lorgar let out a sigh, as he ran around the entire forest floor glancing above to see if he catch a glimpse of the sniper, looking in every direction and every tree. His instinctive selection was much greater then a normal human's , so he made quick progress eliminating each tree,

 

Suddenly he thought he saw something, the stock on on of the trees suddenly got a little thinner above a branch. If that was the archer it was now gone behind that behind that tree. 

 

Lorgar, wasting no time, charged towards the tree, jumping on it, grasping it's large trunk, and climbing on top it's branches,

 

Up there it was quiet and still. The big branch he was standing on had lots of other branches sticking out and almost forming sparse bushes. A gust of wind came and rattled the leaves. Then as the forest stirred for a moment he felt pain in the back of the left shoulder. He managed to turn his head only to see the thing, it almost looked like a spriggan with a bow as it was covered in bark and leaves, jump down from the branch he was standing onto another and run away in zigzag and up and down as the thing jumped from branch to branch, from tree to tree. 

 

Lorgar's vision started to become tinged with red, the hunter was awakening. He couldn't feel the pain coming from his shoulder, he shut it off, as he snarled. Bloodlust filled his body, he crushed the wooden shaft, and charged

 

******* arrows, why does it always have to be ******* arrows!!!

 

With lighting fast speed, Lorgar ran from branch to branch, jumping like an ape with precision. His wouldn't let the sniper get away again, as he burned the image into his mind as he chased the archer, 

 

The archer drew an arrow, then spun around and fired it in one motion as he jumped to another far away branch.

 
Looking at the thing almost missing the branch, only managing to grasp onto the tip so the branch bent for the weight. As he swung forward, bending the branch quite a lot.
 
Lorgar, in a blur of movement caught the arrow with his hand , crushing it underneath his grip. But right when he was about to reach another branch, one came flying towards Lorgar in mid air, hitting him square in the face, Lorgar fell from the treetops into the ground, hitting hard, knocking the wind out of him.
 
Before Lorgar knew it, an arrow came straight down aimed at his chest, Lorgar rolled away, avoiding it. 
 

Glancing to his side, Lorgar caught sight of the, ehem, "tree-person" running away. 

 

**** no

 

Lorgar drew his previously sheaved throwing knife, took aim at the humanoids leg, and let the dagger fly. 

 

The knife hit the other leg though the side. The tree-thing lost balance for a  second and slipped on the next branch and started falling. But right before he reached the ground he managed to grab onto another branch right before hitting the ground. And the branch bent down and allowed for an safe landing. He immediately disappeared into a bush, apparently unaffected by the knife in the leg.

 

Lorgar followed, presuming he ran up the tree adjacent to the bush, Lorgar climbed up the same tree, 

 

As he climbed he was about to grab another branch for balance but before he knew it, he felt a sting in the hand. And when he looked he saw a knife made of bone impaled into the hand. And the tree-person was already on it's way to another branch. 

 

Pain...this is why I fight...

 

Foaming under his Balcava, Lorgar couldn't help himself, as he let out a howl, tearing the knife out of his hand with his left hand, while he used his damaged  right hand to pull himself up the tree, he followed the tree person  

 

The elusive figure was jumping tree to tree, attempting to avoid the Bloodwolf commando. Lorgar followed his pace, always keeping him in his vision and sight. 

 

Then he suddenly disappeared behind one of the trees. And when Lorgar came around he suddenly saw the thing standing in a foliage further out on the very large branch he was about to land on, it was aiming an arrow at him. But he couldn't do anything as he was in the middle of the air with nothing to grab to change course. All he could do was watch as the arrow almost in slow motion traveled through the air towards him. The arrow struck into his his knee and crunch was felt as kneecap broke. He landed first on his healthy leg but when the other foot touched the ground that was the branch, the leg gave way and he fell down. He managed just to reach his arms out to save him from landing on the knee. Luckily the branch was so large, he was in now real danger of falling off. He got up and ran, or rather limped, as well as he could after the thing into the foliage from where he could still hear the thing running through. When he reached the other side of the foliage he saw the thing standing out near the end of the branch. With nothing around to flee to. Looking around he saw that the tree they were standing on was seated on a high cliff and the forest lied like a green fluffy cover on the land below them. 

 

Lorgar stood up, his adrenaline dulling the pain to the point he could barely feel it.

 

No we're to run

 

Lorgar smiled, his trademark wolf grin under his Balacava. He raised his longsword, before bringing it up repeatably, as if saluting,

 

"I salute your skill in archery elf. Your ability surpass mine in that regard, your pretty good, much to good to be fighting a loosing war on your on."  

 

Lorgar glanced at him curiously, waiting for a response  "If I may ask, were did you learn to shoot like that?"

 

The character didn't respond and just threw the bow away. Then teared at the bark covering the mouth till he could see what he assumed was the mouth. There were no lips and the there were more scar tissue than regular skin around it. The figure opened the mouth wide and displayed wooden teeth mixed with the regular ones. But the most prominent thing was the lack of tongue.

 

Lorgar grimaced at the sight, He sheaved his blade, this man was no longer a threat to him. He put his hands up, "I understand, the dominion gave you that?" This man could be extremley useful to Lorgar, his skills in archery were unmatched. 

 

The man just closed the mouth and just stood there, waiting. 

 

Lorgar took off his Balacava, revealing his eye patch and his heavily scarred face, "Dying now would be a waste of your talents."

 

The bosmer pointed an accusing finger at Lorgar, then reached the hand to his side and pulled out from a small slit in the bark a small piece of jewelry. The elf threw it at Lorgar and he caught it midair. And when he looked at it he saw that the little thing was small sigil of the Dominion, half covered in dried blood. 

 

Lorgar shrugged "I admit the dominion is my chosen employer. I don't fight for ideology, only for coin. I was once in the imperial legion, had ideals.Those were crushed. What have you accomplished? Yes a few dozen dominion grunts are dead. There'll always be more."

 

The bosmer pointed at Lorgar again, though more at the hand in which he held the the sigil, then pulled the finger across the throat.

 

"Vengeance won't do you any good. That hole you have will only grow larger,until your not even the same person who started. What you need is clarity. I can give you a new life, a new purpose."

 

The person shook the head and lifted high in the air like was awaiting the gods to give something from above. Still shaking the head while looking down. The whole display gave the feeling of "I don't care". When the elf stopped shaking the head and looked back up at Lorgar, the arms came down but were still outstretched along the sides. The wood elf took another step back, now going onto the thin tip of the branch

 

"Don't throw your life away." He looked solemn, before he said offering his hand, "Friend, we may have given up our homes, but were still fighting. And there's always another reason to keep on living."

 

The elf gently shook the head again for a second before trying to say something. Lorgar guessed that the edges of where the lips once sat formed the word "no". The elf almost had a solemn look, despite only being able to see the now closed eyes among the bark and the disfigured mouth. The elf took another step backward and then started to slowly tilt backwards, till bark covered archer started to fall. 

 

Lorgars eyes opened, as he ran forward in an attempt to grab him before he fell, he yelled, "No!!!"

 

But he missed by a large margin, even with his speed and reflexes, the elf was already half a yard away from him. Falling till the figure disappeared in the treetops far below and several birds flew up from the surrounding trees soon after.

 

Lorgar dropped his head down, and uttered a prayer, 

 

"May your tortured soul find peace by the All-Makers side." 

 

****

 

Lorgar returned to we're left his companion, and too his amazement, she was still alive.  Still clutching the bandage in a desperate attempt to stop herself from bleeding out. Lorgar knelt beside her, she had taken off her balacava, and her face was covered in sweat, Lorgar said to her,

 

"Stay with me sergeant. I need to get you a combat medic immediately." As he went forward to prepare to lift her up, Lorgar was stopped by the sergeant grabbing his arm with her hand. She still couldn't speak with the arrow lodged in her throat, but he could tell she was trying to say, "end pain." Feebishly, she drew her shortsword, and guided Lorgar's hand to the pommel, aiming it to her own chest.  Lorgar looked downward, though it was impossible to see with Balacava on, Lorgar's features were downcast and full of sadness, 

 

"I understand. Are you sure?" 

 

She nodded, Lorgar whispered a prayer

 

"From the All-Maker we are born, to the All-maker we return. Find peace Bloodwolf." 

 

Lorgar thrusted. 

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Gracchus Ceno

Imperial City

Late Morning

 

The red cape of the interim High General flew after it's owner like a leaf in the wind, his brisk pace accounting for this. He was running late, as his last meeting with a long winded alchemical guild leader ran far past it's requisite time in Gracchus' schedule. His boots stomped furiously on the floor, echoing up and down the halls. His armored skirt bounced around, the slits providing the movement necessary for the general's near running. He finally reached the desired destination, a meeting room guarded by four soldiers and four battlemages, both inside and out. With the recent attack on Dales, he could afford no slip ups today. Straightening his chest plate, which was gold in nature with a red dragon in the center, he entered the room.

 

Already filled with every general besides himself, their conversations subsided. The generals saluting their superior, and everyone moved to take their seats. Gracchus strode to the head, where he sat facing his coworkers.

 

"Good morning to you all. I hope my calling this meeting did not interfere with any business you might have otherwise attended to, but I found it absolutely necessary. Before I begin, are there any questions as to why I have called you all here?" Gracchus asked, his face plain and stoic as he scanned the room. His eyes lingered on three generals in particular, Retrius, Lithin, and Fury-Blade, who all were reported to be none to happy with the empress. That too would be addressed, whether it be in this meeting or afterward, in private.

 

Lets not make a spectacle of this gentlemen. Civil and clean, or else you will end up looking foolish, I guarantee that, Gracchus thought, in the moments immediately after opening up the floor.

 

General Hell-Cry was busy cleaning his sharp teeth with an iron knife, his animal furs sagging over his shoulders, his voice was deep, but friendly,

 

"Yeah boss, when can I sink my axe into those dominion yellowskins." He did a downward attack with an imagery weapon.

 

Gracchus raised his eyebrows at the savage display of hygiene, but made not comment on it, addressing the question instead. "Unless the Thalmor initiate the attack, I do not foresee us doing so in the next few weeks. The Nords and Bretons aren't as mobilized as the Redguards and us, so it will take time for them to march their forces south. Months, not weeks, is the most likely timeline, considering that the alliance has not even met together, which will undoubtedly happen at some point."

 

General Martullus spoke, in a polite, yet stern voice, "I don't trust these so called allies sir, especially those Stormcloaks. They'll backstab us before long."

 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Gracchus simply said, "I highly doubt that, General. They cannot take on the Thalmor alone, and after that they will be too war weary to do much of anything, same as us."

 

"You would know quite a bit about backstabbing, sir." Said the deadpan voice of the spymaster. Lillin was clad in full Oculatus plate mail, without the helmet. She wore a blue flower in her platnium hair. Martullus smiled politely,

 

"I don't know what you mean, Colonel. I'm sure if the High general wanted the Oculatus' opinion he would ask."

 

"And you, Colonel, would know nothing about war. When we need someone to pick flowers for our hair, we'll let you know," said General Retrius standing up for his good friend. Retrius was an averaged height colovian, but even so, he was a seasoned warrior and respected by a lot of the others. He wiped a hand over his black cropped hair that always seemed to be a little wet, then he turned his gaze to Gracchus with his steel colored eyes. "I do not think the Stormcloaks would be so foolish to do something like this... before the war. But after... that is something else entirely. You all see the writing on the wall don't you? I hope for our sakes that Empress Dales is preparing for after we've either won or lost the Great War II."

 

"I wouldn't." She whispered into Grom's ear, who was seated beside her,"I know who they all sleep with though." Grom snickered and laughed at that, Lilly, smiling said,

 

"I highly doubt his majesty Ulfric Stormcloak has his eyes on Cyrodili gentlemen. I may know nothing about war,but I'm well versed in intillegence gathering, and the intelligence says otherwise."

 

"Who says he wanted Cyrodiil? I certainly didn't. But I guarantee he wants it to be as weak as a babe, relying on the alliance for survival as much as possible. We're bound to go back to the days before Tiber Septim at this rate, having Cyrodiil split into sections and warring with our own," said Retrius.

 

"Blame the greedy nobility for that, not the nords." She said shrugging, "Her majesty won't let that happen."

 

Retrius raised his voice and said, "Is that our motto now? Blame the nobility? Who the **** cares about the nobility? What about them? The nobility can kiss my greyed sack, it's the White Gold that I'm concerned with. When it comes down to it, the nobility doesn't control the legion. Their hold on this land is a ruse."

 

"They have the power. They control the flow of money, which is our pay. The elder council had Titus by the balls, which is basically the nobolity. Look what happened to him. We're simply soldiers, I'm afraid." She said glancing at Grommash, who was picking at his teeth.

 

"Hey, Grommash, we get it. You're a big orc that has to pick his tusks with a knife. Anyway, you're a spymaster. You should know better than to think that the nobility has anything to do with preparing ourselves against any actions from our allies in the future, which was my point. Ulfric may not want Cyrodiil, but the Redguards may. Not everyone will be devastated from the war. There will be winners and losers even among our own, and the Stormcloaks even if they did hold to their word will be in no position to actually keep it whether they want to or not. Meaning helping defend us."

 

Gracchus watched the arguments unfold, finding it better to let Retrius and Lilly and Grommash duke it instead of jumping in. Retrius has a point. As much as I like the Nords, we must prepared to defend ourselves from intruders, whether it be the Redguards, Nords, or even the Argonians.

 

"Politics be damned, all I care about is smashing skulls." The orc said raising his arm, "I don't give a **** if the nords,or the redguards attack. More skulls to smash, more enemies to fight. more looting. Ask any of my men, they'll say the same."

 

Lilly frowned "If we don't trust our allies, then I doubt this war will go well."

 

"For Shezzar's sake, how did you ever become a general?" Retrius stood from where he was and started to walk around. "This isn't about trusting them for the war, it's about trusting them after. I don't. There's not much we can do about it now, but we need to be prepared to take drastic measures. Like stepping up drafting numbers considerably to make up for our inevitably large casualties. And we need to do that before the fighting so it can be enforced, and mix the drafting numbers with the men we have now, then leave a number of them in Cyrodiil so we have something to fall back to. More than the last time. Or we're going to be a carcass waiting to be picked at by everyone in Tamriel, right in the center."

 

"I'm good at smashing skulls and leading other men in smashing skulls." He said shrugging.

 

Lilly watched the scene before adding, "What are we the dominion? Drafting is already at an all time high, unless you want children, elderly men, and teens."

 

"You know good and well we can get more without needing the elderly and children. Adolescents however, I'm not above drafting. They won't fight in the war, but they can be trained while the war is being waged. Even if our allies don't act against us, they'll be vital in preventing more riots at the very least and ending up with another Bravil situation," explained Retrius. "This is the survival of the Em...Cyrodiil, we're talking about."

 

"I don't know, teenagers tend to be poor soldiers. There skinny, and don't break bones well. Suppose they could be good meat shields." Grommash said.

 

Martullus added, "I think that's an excellent idea Retrius."

 

"Thank you, friend. And they'll be older by the time they're called to be used. Unless the war doesn't last as long this time. Even so, a shield wall with blades and spears is a fearsome foe, no matter who is behind it. Train them hard. Train them thoroughly. And start as soon as possible, and we'll be that much more prepared. On top of the other percentage of men and able bodied women we haven't yet taken. Whether it's in Valenwood or Cyrodiil, one way or another the war or its after effects will be involving all of them anyway. Better to do so with a legion shield between them and whatever troubles we have in the future. We get the Empress on board with that, then perhaps I won't be so fearful of her leadership. Perhaps."

 

"The little pup has been much better then her father. She's also been very supportive of the legion. I don't see your problem with her. Who cares how short she is." Grommash said taking a large piece of meat from his mouth.

 

Retrius turned his attention away from the others to another friend of his and said, "Lithin can help me out with that. I've spoken on my own enough for the moment. Though that question should be obvious."

 

General Lithin nodded to Retrius, his pale face fixed in the same unhappy expression it always seemed to be in. "I would gladly speak my mind. This is an open meeting, yes?"

He looked at the Orsimer general. "Grommash, you would be the only man in this room to not see the problems with her, and that is because you have trouble seeing anything beyond your next meal or your next kill. You have admitted before us all that you care little and understand less about politics, even at their most basic. I can assure you, her height is the least of our concerns. In fact, I find Retrius's judgement to be beyond fair, even optimistic."

 

Gracchus ears perked up as Lithin spoke. The man, according to Lilly, was displeased with both Dales and the new High General, and that made Gracchus all the more intent to listen.

 

Before he could say anything, another general jumped in. "Yes yes, you Imperials think you're so wise at politics," General Floyd Renoit, a Breton with fiery orange hair that matched his temperament, "but you both fail to see that it doesn't matter! The empress is a slave to us, especially in war time, and her soon to be husband the court mage is just as hungry to settle things down as we are! Look, he is now dealing with more problems than she has in her tenure, and he's not even emperor yet! She is a non factor, as he is the real muscle. Besides us, of course!"

 

Gracchus just sighed and shook his head, the current argument just as all others had been, in meetings such as this. Always petty bickering, always fighting. But, to jump in now would only serve to weaken the point he planned to make later, so he sat quietly as the red-haired Breton spoke.

 

Around the table, he noticed that several others shared his viewpoint. General Flaccus, General Antonia, General Bical, General K'avar, and General Fork-Beard. An ensemble cast of races, yet they all kept quiet in this argument, much as he had hoped.

 

"And who is he?" Lithin shot back. "Can you tell me a single thing about Lord Snow-Strider, Renoit? Because a year ago, his name was one that had not been heard by a one of us. Now, he virtually leads this Empire. I cannot believe that so few question this!"

 

"Question? I question everything, dearest general. It does surprise me you question him, seeing as the title of lord is attached to his name. Or are you jealous that you do not own the title as well, much as Ceno does? Oh yes, Snow-Strider may have been obscure, but his drive and purpose is sound. We were all nobodies at one point, oh, except for you. Daddies' fortune fed you well, I am sure," Renoit sneered, despising the noble upbringing of his colleague.

 

"This is not about me, and has nothing to to with jealousy." Lilith answered with a roll of his eyes. "Many here came from nothing, and I respect each of them. But the matter with Skjari is different, and you know that. A new personal servant of the Empress, and a powerful wizard at that, goes on to become Court Mage. That is believable. But for the Court Mage to take command of legions, to order executions? I would see any one of you on the throne before a man so mysterious. Grommash excepted." He glanced at the Orc. "No offense." Looking back, he said, "Good leader or not, we do not know him. Nobody but the Empress does."

 

Gracchus finally saw a chance to jump in. Even if he was their leader, it was better not to antagonize them with interruptions because be ranked higher. "Actually, that is not entirely true. I met the man back in Skyrim, and while I cannot vouch for his past, I certainly can vouch for his character, his will, and his drive. He hates the elves just as much as any of us, and has proven himself now more than Dales, Amaund, and several of our past emperors. To continue to bicker does not serve our cause any more so than does turning our arms over to the Thalmor. Look here, at Flaccus and Fork-Beard and Bical and K'avar, all different races yet they see little point in arguing like squabbling children over a toy. They embody this alliance, represent our diversity. This is what our Empire was, but it has whittled down to just us. We must stop fighting, or soon we'll have whittled it down to nothing. If it pleases everyone, I will look into Lord Snow-Strider's past, most likely personally. I dare say we got along well enough in Skyrim he would do me that honor."

 

Retrius said, "What we've seen of him now, we know he works well enough as a court mage. But as Emperor... I don't want someone like him giving the orders. Him and his puppet. During the war, I want someone I can trust. Which, despite Lithin being a friend, I do disagree with his stance on Ceno. If we're to be marching into war and we must have this unknown as our Emperor, which we don't, by the way, then I would prefer that one of our own is the only one giving those orders. Not the upstart Empress. Not the upstart mage."

 

General Fork-Beard spoke, his shaggy mane true to its name, the two prongs hanging down onto the table as he leaned over. "What are you suggesting Retrius? We disobey this man? That we supplement Ceno or someone else on the throne?"

 

"Well, if Ceno here were ambitious enough, I'd most certainly support him and present him to the council as another viable option. Let's be honest, if the Council wanted to, it would work. They haven't yet lost their grasp of power over the throne. It's the only reason I feel no fear in expressing this matter with all of you," explained Retrius.

 

Gracchus was astounded, but he covered it as best he could. General K'avar, a Redgaurd who stroked his pencil thin beard, turned and asked in his soothing voice, "What say you High General? Are you open to such a presentation? Your recommendations to High General came from high places, and your name is more known than Snow-Strider's."

 

Gracchus cleared his throat, and looked around at the men seated with him. Ten legions, with Gracchus being the eleventh, were represented here. Along with Lilly, the head of the Oculatus. All of them held considerable sway over Cyrodiil, with their men almost devoutly loyal to the each of them. A pit formed in his stomach as he thought about not only leading them, but the entire nation as well. "I...I frankly had not considered the option. I do not see myself as the right for personally, but I would be inclined as to hear everyone else's opinions on the matter."

 

Lilly got out of her chair, looking angry and very annoyed, she said firmly,"Treason. This coversation is simply treason. If I recall most of you, minus High General Ceno were content to suck Amaunds ****. Dales did somthing."

 

Martullus, as chill and cool as ever ,raised his hand. "While a poor choice of words, I agree with the sentiment. Ursuping her majesty is a little too extreme."

 

The foul mouthed General Flaccus, who had been strangely quiet, finally growled out, "We should always be lookin' to upgrade. If the young ***** isn't cuttin' it, then kick here to the road. But, she's done no harm to the empire yet, and survived two fuckin' attempts on her life, if the rumors are true. Sounds like she's got a more balls then some in this room."

 

Gracchus nodded his assent, recalling how Dales had somehow taken out the Thalmor assassin back at Fort Pale Pass. While the fact she did it was still perplexing, no one could deny that she wasn't one to shy away from a fight.

 

"I agree. Dales is a tough son of a bitch. Tougher then dadies little boy here." Lilly said nodding her head.

 

"Hold your tongue, Colonel," Gracchus said sternly, "while most of us are equals, do recall that you are of a lower rank, and as such I suggest you keep comments like that to yourself. That goes for all of you. The name calling and petty bickering is unbecoming of people of our station, and we should act like we belong here, and not in a cheap one-Septim brothel."

 

Martullus cleared his throat, "Colonel Quentas is also her majesties personal advisor, as well as a countess, physician to her majesty, and a member of the elder council as spymaster. I think she has the right to talk as an equal, as much as I disapprove of her foul mouth." He continued "While I have no doubt of her majesties personal courage and strength, a few of her decisions lead to...barely averted disasters."

 

"Well what do you expect, High General, from Ms. Floppy Teets over here who advertises herself as such? She sure looks the part to talk as if this place were a brothel." Retrius smiled at the other generals, catering to their hurt egos from her words. "And speaking of sucking.... I heard you comment that you know who we all sleep with. But everyone in Cyrodiil knows who pokes your sload hole, don't we boys?" This comment was greeted with laughter around the room. "Perhaps you don't like the idea because your man won't be Emperor?" Retrius slammed a fist on a table and yelled, "Perhaps SHE wishes to be Empress!" Now Retrius was picking up traction as grumbling and suspicious finger pointing started to go around. Easy to do when she alienated everyone in the room the way she did.

 

"Oh please general. I know who you stab your excuse for a sausage into, which is quite unimpressive or so I here." Her face remained blank, "At least at a brothel I would be getting payed to deal with imbeciles such as yourself." Lilly yawned, "If I wanted her majesty dead, I could have easily poisoned her all the times I've given her herbal medication."

 

The General turned around and faced her with a blank face, then dropped his armored skirt, revealing his 'pathetic' sausage. "You were saying, Floppy Teets?" Now Retrius successfully turned the meeting into a circus with the other generals enjoying the show and laughing hysterically. Just as he planned, as he wanted to keep the suspicion against the Empress and her fiance up. "Behold the skills of your esteemed Spymaster! I put my money where her mouth likely is a lot. Now it's her turn. She hasn't yet disproven the accusations and she moves straight to immature name calling to dismiss it..."

 

Lilly who looked like she was about to rip off her braiser and expose her parts was stopped by General Grommash,

 

"LETS CALM THE **** DOWN. All of us." Getting up, Martullus raised his hand, "I agree with Grom this has gotten far out of hand."

 

Retrius, skirt still dropped said, "Oh no, let her finish I say. I think exposing herself would be rather convincing in proving she's not the mage's whore."

 

"Getting a lady to expose her privates is barbaric." Said Martullus. Grom who was looking at everyone said, "She's right though. Your junk is tiny and pathetic, like a boys. Feast your eyes on orcish meat." In that moment Grom exposed his huge orcish "sword" casueing martullus to facepalm.

 

Retrius just laughed and pulled his skirt up. Yes, keep it up, Orc. You're doing the Empress and Spymaster so many favors right now.

 

Lilly hand was reaching for her chest, when Martullus put his hand to her shoulder, "Don't. Your a lady. Swooping to his very low level won't do you any favors" Lilly hesitated before nodding her head.

 

"You call yourselves men, and generals of the legion, yet all I see here is a the most childlike display of inadequacy in the entire legion. I know several legates who would better serve us than you miserable men. If you will not be respectful and courteous, there's the door. Now sit down!" Gracchus slammed his hands on the table, while Fork-Beard, and K'avar cried out "Here here!"

 

"I've already shown what I needed to show. You wanted proof of the Empress and the mage's incompetence? Her spymaster is a glowing and shining example. I asked her to put her money where her mouth was as I did, in reference to proving my comments of her being tied to the mage and working in his favor for romantic feelings and for a desire for the throne to be wrong. Not to get her to expose what I can already get a good look at even with cloth. I don't apologize for my display. It had a point to it. But sure, lets continue," Retrius said.

 

"You tried pressuring a lady of the Chorrol court to expose her private areas, friend. That only proves your an indecent child with a small penis."

 

"Good lord, the stupidity is strong with these ones. Like I said, childish and clearly inaccurate name calling. If this is what this meeting is going to be all about, then I think we should end it here, right boys?" The others gave nods of approval.

 

"Yes, this is getting rather old. She's supposed to be our equal, yet she's treated like a victim? Retrius is at fault because she's in such a hurry to take her clothes off?" said General Bical, in his monotone voice. "Nothing will get done with this distraction around, General Ceno."

 

"No. Both of you stop or I will have you restrained. And publicly shamed for that matter. Sit down, and if either of you say another word about it you will leave this meeting, and how've no say," Gracchus commanded still standing up.

 

"Of course, sir." Martullus bowed his head, taking a seat. Retrius sat, grin on his face and without saying anything.

 

"Now, General Retrius, and General Lithin, while I truly appreciate the show of support, we did not come here to seat one of ourselves on the throne. Now is not the time for usurpation, nor will it be anytime soon. Our job is to beat the Thalmor, not flaunt our manhoods and breasts about like beasts. Be seated, and remain so until I dismiss you, or you are escorted out of here like a common thief. Do I make myself clear? That goes for you as well Grommash, and Lilly too. Keep your pants and blouses on and your mouths shut," Gracchus eyed those he addressed, his gaze steely and cold.

 

Both Grommash and Lilly said "Yes sir." At the same time,

 

"Let us refer back to the draft issue. What do you think should be the minimum age to be eligible for service?" Gracchus sat down once everyone else did, resuming his usually calm nature.

 

"Defeating the Thalmor was the whole point of the discussion. How can we do that with incompetency at the height of the chain of command? I don't want any of those fools getting in the way of what it is that we do," Retrius said. "There's too much at stake to rest on Dales and her concubine wizard. Anyway, fifteen, Ceno."

 

Grommash raised his hand "Sixteen or seventeen . Mandatory for both males and females." He turned his head to Retrius "I don't appreciate your disrespect for Lord Snow-Strider. I've fought beside him, and he's a talented warrior, as well as a cunning strategist."

 

"I don't give a damn what you appreciate, I'm worried about Cyrodiil, not you or his hurt feelings," said Retrius.

 

"Well, whining to the High General despite not even knowing the man and what he's cable of is really pissing me off." Said the orc showing his tusks in a display of anger.

 

Gracchus' face clenched up at the men resorting back to the previous conversation. "If I hear another gods-damned about either the empress or her consort, I'll have both of you locked up, together, so you can work out your differences there. Not. Another. Word. As for age, fifteen is an acceptable age, I believe. Hopefully this can keep some hooligans off the streets as well. Shall we put it to a vote? Majority dictates winner. The other option shall be sixteen."

 

Retrius smiled at hearing Ceno call him a consort, then raised his hand. "I'm in favor."

 

Lilly raised her hand, "sixteen". She was followed by Grommash saying "sixteen." Martullus looked like he was disputing it before saying "sixteen."

 

Gracchus raised his hand for fifteen, as did K'avar, Flaccus, and Fork-Beard. Renoit voted for sixteen, probably just to spite Retrius, while Bical added in his vote for fifteen as well. All that remained were Antonia and Lithin, the former who had said nary a word and the latter who had let Retrius take the reins in the argument.

 

Antonia, who had been silent so far, raised her voice. "I say sixteen. The young recruits in my army are already quite small."

 

"Fifteen." Lithin stated finally, to no one's surprise.

 

Gracchus flashed a quick smile, but it faded just as quickly. "Then it's settled. We will set the minimum draft age to fifteen. Now, I have considered doing away with almost all of our heavy armor units in favor of a more medium style armor of added chain and leather. I believe this will especially help in Valenwood, in the dense, wet, and hot jungles. This is all preliminary of course, and I seek additional opinions."

 

"I think a lighter platemail would be more favorable to a chainmail if we're going up against those pointy eared archers." Antonia said.

 

"I would have to agree," General Flaccus added. "My legion being right on the border, we've found plates to block arrows better than chain mail."

 

"Agreed. Light steel plate reinforcing the leather. Would be lighter and cheaper than chainmail, unless you mean light reinforcing like our Stormcloak 'allies'. That would be fine, but it would be better if our units had more varying armor so the Bosmer are forced to switch arrow types," said Retrius.

 

"It seems plate mail it will be, then. Thank you both for your insight," Gracchus said, "another point that I mulled over was the border cities. Bravil, Anvil, Leyawiin, Kvatch and Skingrad are all in immediate danger, so something needs to be done to fortify them against any sort of Thalmor push. I considered pulling guards from Chorrol, Bruma, and Cheydinhal, to supplement our reserves there."

 

Retrius said, "I don't agree. That would only welcome opportunists and thieves to have their way in our cities. The troops deployed at the borders already should be adequate enough."

 

"Bruma is filled with Sons of Whiterun Militia, as well as many nordic loyalists. I think we can afford to relocate some legionaries from there." Said Lilly

 

"Your numbers are wrong, miss. Those "many Nord loyalists" have long since departed to their homeland once it was established as a new kingdom," Retrius said. "The Sons of Whiterun are serving to replace the guards that were killed fighting Jon."

 

"I helped fund them for several months during there aggressions against Skyrim, general. I would know. Brumas population has calmed down since the riots. I have no doubt plenty of nords would take swords in the name of the empire over there."

 

Retrius said, "Check again, most of the able bodied individuals there are already enlisted by me. Have you even bothered to speak to Balgruuf lately? Bruma's been picked clean lately by drafting. Nords after all would be the first target of the legion. Them and Colovians like myself."

 

"Not military I'm referring too. Nords are strong,regardless of age or gender. If a town is attacked by simple bandits I'm sure the local guards and townspeople remaining can handle them."

 

"And that's all that is practically remaining, aside from those taking refuge there. This isn't a matter of opinion. Facts are the Legion's already laid claim to as much as we can in Bruma without numbers being absurd. And now with the new draft parameters set here, they'll be picked at even more. This was largely in response to those trying to leave for Skyrim. Facts are, Bruma can't sacrifice much more. If you must take from the other cities, High General, I recommend you look elsewhere," Retrius said.

 

"May I recommend Chorrol then,sir?" Said Martullus,

 

Gracchus listened to the conversation intensely, but ready to jump should they get out of hand again. Thankfully, it didn't come to that, so once they finished, he said, "Chorrol has remained relatively unscathed throughout these recent hard times, as has Cheydinhal. Both will be ordered to sacrifice a few of their troops to their sister cities. We all have to make sacrifices, it seems."

 

"Isn't Cheydinhal opposing the empress?" Antonia asked.

 

Gracchus looked over at General Antonia, nodding as he did, "Yes, unfortunately. But that is beside the fact. They are still apart of this province, and as such they are expected assist in the coming war. They can do this by gifting the other cities extra guardsmen."

 

"What if Cheydinhal refuses?"

 

"I'm sure they will, at first," Gracchus said, "but once they are made to see the errors of their ways, they can contribute all the same. One point, we must be careful to choose those guards whose family is either nonexistent or willing to move. I recommend a slight pay increase for those that do, to make the prospect more enticing."

 

"That's not necessary sir, I can get my mother to hand other the Chorrol troops without difficulty." Said the spymaster. "Cheydinhal may be a little more...difficult."

 

Gracchus smiled slightly, but as he talked it faded away. This business suites him no more than to kill, but like that, it had to be done. "I know it is not necessary, but these men are being uprooted from their homes, places they probably grew up since they were children. While many will want the new adventure moving brings, are still being asked to leave behind their childhood homes, friends, and places. The least we can do is compensate them, especially given how dangerous their new assignments will be."

 

"There's also the matter of cost. There's not much we can give considering all the drafting we are doing. This war effort is costing us an arm and a leg," said Retrius.

 

"Helped by the fact that the Empresses is pouring a considerably more amount of money in the legions coffers then before, I may add." Said Martullus, "But I concur with Retrius, we need to limit the costs as much as possible, and giving a certain part of the legion a special bonus, wont sit well with the rest."

 

"They'll still make less than a normal legionairre, as guards always have, and the increase wouldn't even bring them up to that level. If money is such an issue, I would be willing to sacrifice a portion of my salary. My strongbox is full enough as is, and it would do far more good in the hands of a young man than the safe of an old general."

 

"I would have to agree with the High General. These men are leaving relative safety for the cities right in the path of Thalmor destruction should they invade. The least we could do was supplement their salary with an extra ten septims for the first six or eight months," General K'avar added, as he leaned back in the ever relaxed look he continuously held.

 

"Well if that's the case...I would be more then glad to donate a portion of my salary." Martullus said, with a slight smile.

 

Retrius said, "No offense, but I don't think your salary alone will cover this High General, unless you're just talking about a handful of men. How many guards are we talking, a portion? Half the city full? Everyone is sacrificing and being pulled from families and homes to serve on the front lines. What makes them special? They can receive a normal pay just like anyone else. But if you insist, I won't argue over something small like this."

 

"I think the general is expected all of us to sacrifice a small portion of our salary, Retrius." Said Martullus calmly.

 

"I got the hint. I'm asking if it will even be enough for all the men he's trying to hire. If not, I'd rather give my salary to more legion soldiers."

 

"I appreciate your difference in opinion. And while it seems there is support for the supplemental money, you are right in that they are being asked to do no more than the rest of us. My humanity wants me to pay them extra, but it seems now that this decision is not a wise one. I will heed your advice, I believe. As for a number, I think one-hundred men each from Chorrol and Cheydinhal would suffice, to be divided up with forty men going to each of the border cities."

 

"To split such already small numbers even thinner may not be the best course of action." General Lithin said. "Chorrol and Cheydinhal may be able to spare a hundred, maybe a little more, of their guards, but to distribute forty per city would barely even make the difference the trouble is worth. With its moat and position on the Niben, Bravil is more than capable of withstanding siege using the devices it already has. Likewise, Kvatch is fairly safe behind Anvil and Skingrad. I think Leyawiin and Anvil are in dire enough need to warrant all of the attention from the men we pull out. Leyawiin sits dangerously close to the border, and is far from help if things go bad, and it is crucial to deny Anvil to the Dominion navy. I think sending all we can of these guards to Leyawiin is a good start, and the legion men they relieve there can be sent to defend Anvil."

 

"I agree with General Lithin, strange as that sounds," General Renoit added with a chuckle. "Ugh, I think I'll need to scrub my tongue after that sentence. But yes, he seems to have the right of it."

 

"The Nibense area has been plagued by Khajit terrorist cells as of late, sending troops to Leyawiin might have merit." Said Lilly.

 

Gracchus raised his eyebrows at Renoit's support of Lithin, but said nothing of it, choosing to address the matter at hand instead. "I can throw my support behind that plan. Thank you, Geneal Anotnia and General Lithin. Your contributions are invaluable in this aspect. Are there any other matters you all would like to discuss?"

 

Antonia spoke up. "Most of my army is quite green. I was thinking of spreading some legionaries to the more bandit infested parts of Cyrodiil to give them a taste of blood. Though that'll make it harder to get the whole army assembled if they Dominion attacks."

 

"Half of my army used to be bandits..." Said Grommash laughing

 

"Go ahead General Antonia. I think it would serve us better that they be late in case of an attack, than that they be too inexperienced to contribute. Plus, our border defenses are secure enough that any attack would take at least a few days to break through. Speaking of which, I would like each of you to send your best engineers along with the new men to Leyawiin and Anvil, so they can shore up their defenses in case of attack. They must be able to withstand until we can arrive to help," Gracchus said politely.

 

"One quick matter that I think we should discuss," said Retrius. "I understand that you spoke with the Admiral, yes High General? He was somehow miraculously rescued from the Thalmor... sounds convenient, don't you think?"

 

Gracchus wrinkled his brow, not expecting the High Admiral to have been brought up, but he quickly said, "I would not say his rescue was either miraculous nor convenient, the way he and his companion tell it. To lose a limb, and to undergo much worse sounds nothing short of terrible, not to mention the Bosmer lost several of his comrades in breaking out the admiral. But, I can see how you might be skeptical, General Retrius. He was only held in Thalmor captivity for a few weeks, which is a surprise. But, I doubt they had enough time to brainwash him, from what past instances tell us."

 

"That is all well and good," General Bical droned in his flat, plain voice, "but I believe we should watch him intently, as intently as possible. Who knows what their mages could have managed."

 

"If he was in there for weeks, then I assume they didn't know who he was at first. Otherwise he'd probably have already been broken in half that time. If he wasn't already.... Empress Dales giving him a pass didn't surprise me in the slightest. But, the matters of the navy are not our own. I only let the matter go because I trust your judgement, High General Ceno."

 

"I assure you, I will keep an eye on him, as Bical suggested. As we should of all those that make it out of Dominion hands. It is a sad day, though, when our allies must be watched as well as our enemies. But, it must be so, and so it will be," Gracchus said, his face betraying that he liked none of this business. "Now, unless someone has anything they'd like to add, I will free you all of this meeting, as it has gone on long enough, and we all are quite busy."

 

"From some of what I've heard the Thalmor do. Only losing a hand after weeks of torture is quite mild. I don't know if it's true but I once heard about a man the Thalmor cut into pieces and then reassembled him into something grotesque. I wonder if maybe the Admiral still has his hand." Antonia said, trying to hide the undertone of disgust and fear.

 

"No one ever leaves the torture chambers of the dominion the same, or with perfect psyche. Her majesties understands better then anyone that the dominion takes, she was high inquisitor after all" said Martullus solemnly but his tone having a slight sinister edge to it, "I trust she knows whats she doing by letting the admiral retain the command of the Navy."

 

"True, she knows the Dominion's practices better than most, but I doubt that is a fact any of us would like to dwell on. As for Admiral Meridius' hand, that is also something I would prefer not to discuss. But it is a sobering thought indeed," Gracchus said grimly.

 

Martullus said, putting both of his hands on the table "What we need to do is make sure, Tacticus's mind isn't clouded, and still has his old strategic ability intact. I recommend we send some one from the legion in the form of a liaison to the navy, to watch the good admiral."

 

Lilly nodded her head, "I second that."

 

"A unwise suggestion, as I find that the High Admiral would not take kindly to being looked after like a child, at least not by us. Let the navy handle that, I say. It is not our job nor place to be the navy's sitter," General Fork-Beard said, stroking on braid of his facial hair as he did.

 

"He wouldn't be aware, the...liaison, would simply be a liaison to him. He would be there to simply monitor his mental health and decision making. Of course this is the High General's decision, but it would be unwise not to at the least take precautions in regards to the admiral. I've heard stories of Dominion sleeper agents causing all kinds of chaos, and there's a chance the admiral might have suffered, ehem, "re-programming" Said Martullus calmly.

 

"I agree with Fork-Beard." said Lithin. "It only makes the Empire look weaker when we send someone to babysit our own leaders. The High Admiral does not work alone. If he shows signs of suspicion, it will not go unnoticed by his crew and fellow officers. They are well aware of his time in Valenwood. Let them look after it."

 

"I surprisingly agree with them, to an extent. It shouldn't be one of us, however. Someone in the navy perhaps," said Retrius.

 

Grom started to scratch his black beard, "Hmmmm. In the great war, one of my officers, who was rescued from a POW camp, suddenly went batshit crazy on my Cohort, and we were forced to put him down before he killed any of us. Dont want the same thing to happen. I say we should wait, if he shows any lesser signs of...being batshit crazy, then we send someone to observe him."

 

Gracchus drummed his fingers on the table as he thought over the options. On one hand, if the High Admiral ever discovered he was being watched, by the army no less, he would be disgusted, and it could ruin our working relationship. On the other hand, if he were to snap in battle it would be catastrophic. But it is not our place to watch over him, so I'll suggest to the other naval officers they keep an eye on him.

 

"He will be watched, but not by us. It is not our place nor our job, and I doubt any of us would feel welcome if he suggested we needed to be looked after. But I will recommend to the naval officers that they scrutinize his every move," Gracchus said, finally deciding on an acceptable outcome.

 

"That's suitable." Said Martullus, bowing his head.

 

"I'm glad. It shouldn't be too much longer before he returns to the sea and begins raiding again, and then we can see just how much he was affected," Gracchus said, hoping that Tacitus wouldn't be altered at all.

 

"Well, I think that concludes the latest topics, don't you High General? I'm a busy man, as we all are, especially you so I think we should wrap things up," said Retrius.

 

"I concur. Unless anyone has something they'd like to add, you are all dismissed," Gracchus said, rising and straightening his chestplate as he did.

 

General Hellcry, General Martullus, and Colonel Quentas sharply saluted.

 

Retrius gave him a nod and then saw himself out before anyone could ask him any questions. He had to make preparations in case any of his talk against the Empress came back to bite him, though he doubted it would with the war so close.

 

The remaining generals stood and saluted as well. Gracchus returned the salute, before leaving. He was headed to the office of the Empress, if he was still there. An idea had struck him earlier in the meeting, and he hoped to catch Dales before he forgot. As it was he was already walking at a brisk pace towards her office. He knocked as he arrived, and straightened his chest plate once again.

 

"Enter."

 

Gracchus walked in, using his hand to sweep his cape out of the doorway before he closed it. "Your majesty," he said with a bow. "During my meeting with the other generals, I had an idea. You can credit Retrius and Grommash's arguing for it, which is likely the only good thing to ever come out of those two talking. I think you will find it quite intriguing, if you will hear it."

 

"I'm all ears, Gracchus." She said, though her eyes still had large bags under them, she was tidy, and her hair was organized.

 

"I was listening them argue, specifically Retrius sarcastically call Grommash a "big bad Orc," and that set me thinking about the orcs out in the world. Skyrim has quite a few refugees, as do we, while some are still in the Wrothgarians and some are trying to set up between Hammerfell and Skyrim. They're scattered, fractured, but we could offer them a home. The Valus Mountains to the east are largely empty, especially the southern portions. I move we allow the Orcs to establish their homeland there, safe from Redguard and Breton oppression," Gracchus said, visibly excited.

 

"That's a splendid idea." The young empress said, "Restablishing Orismer as a province would win us in the eyes of the orcish people, which we've been close to traditionally for a long time."

 

"We would probably need to send emissaries to both the new Orsinium and Morrowind, to warn them about the possibility of raiders. Once the Orcs are established, what they do is there own business. But as you said, it would go a long way to win us the favor of not only the Orcs, but those that see us in an unkind manner. Of course, they will undoubtedly think we just seek to control another group of people, but ignorance cannot be helped in many cases," Gracchus said, smiling as he did.

 

"Of course. There will always be ignorant fools who frown in our concept of order. I trust you will handle this?"

 

"I can pick out the emissaries, if you wish, by I will be much to busy to handle it myself. Hopefully a couple of members of the Elder Council will be happy to go," Gracchus said.

 

"I can always count on you, can't I?"

 

"I should hope so. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go. It seems we never get any rest," Gracchus said, as he headed back towards the door, and headed back to his office.

 

Once there, he quickly penned letters to both the count of Chorrol and Lord Snow-Strider. The former told of the requested guards, as did the latter, but since the Cheydinhal count was speaking of rebellion, the High General thought Skjari should relay the news, as he was the one who had to deal with the count. After that, he continued his work, which was never ceasing.

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Theodore Adrard

Camlorn

Morning

 

Theodore sat at his desk, lost in thought. He had just returned from Northpoint the previous day, but there was little rest for those in the brink of war.

 

Brink, hmph, the war has practically started. The last reports from Farrun told of a force marching from Evermor to assist Jehanna in the siege. Hopefully they last long enough for Lord Traven to arrive. As long as Colin stays away from any brash actions, they should be fine. It's time already I see. No sense in putting off the announcement any further.

 

Theodore rose from his desk, still dressed in his night clothes. The silk garments slid of easily, an he handed them to his man servant that assisted him in dressing. First came on the socks, then the black trousers next. An undershirt fell over his rotund stomach, followed by a black shirt with gold trimmings. Next was the fur lined robe, styled after the Emperor's robes the Imperials generally wore. His wasn't as bright, replacing most of the reds and blues with browns and blacks, while still keeping with the extravagant design. Finally the boots slid on, finishing the outfit.

 

"How do I look?" Theodore asked his helper.

 

"Marvelous, your highness. Truly a splendid sight," the man replied in an even and practiced voice.

 

"I am sure you will enjoy your time off. Thankfully your duties do not extend to the battlefield, harhar!"

 

"Quite so, sir."

 

"Yes, well, I do believe that is it. Ah, give me an extra handkerchief, will you? I can get seem to rid myself of this blasted cough I picked up in Northpoint. Always knew the place was poisonous to ones health," Theodore said, taking the spare cloth and shoving it in his pocket.

 

Striding out of the room, two guards waited on either side of the door to provide escort to the war room.

 

"Lovely day to start a war, is it not?" Theodore said with a playful air.

 

"Yes, sir, a very....nice day," one replied, while the other took the silent road.

 

They walked the halls, Theodore stopping by his son's room to call him to the meeting. Leaning in to open the door, his hand was on the doorknob when he heard giggling, moaning, and groaning. The king pulled back, and turned to one of the guards stationed by the door.

 

"Once they're done, tell the Prince to meet me in the war room, as quickly as possible. Also, make sure Princess Lyenna is well looked after, after he leaves. Spare no expense for her comfort. That last part you can tell to her ladies' maid."

 

"Yes, your majesty," the blonde haired young man replied, bowing slightly as he did.

 

Walking away, Theodore began to think about his marriage, and how his first months together had been.

 

What it was to be young, so full of joy and energy. I was thin then, well, thinner. I always leaned on the robust side. Hopefully this war sheds some pounds from my body, or I may not be much use against the Thalmor, harhar! But he needs to figure out rather quickly he cannot sleep and have sex his entire life. Hmm, I had not considered that with Elayne being pregnant, and Lyenna soon to be as well, that Roland's brother or sister will be the same age as his son. A truly strange predicament. That is if Elayne's pregnancy holds out. To bear children at her age brings a whole host of problems. I should hope it does not put any undue stress on her. I must tell her the ideas I have for names. A girl, Elisa, after my grandmother, and for a boy, Christopher, after her great-grandfather. I wonder if-

 

Theodore's internal monologue was cut short, as his wife turned the corner in a pale green and blue dress, smiling at her husband. But, anyone who knew her could tell the smile was forced. Theo didn't day anything, however, knowing she would tell him in good time.

 

"Hello dear. Off to the war room?" Elayne asked, glancing at the guards as they retreated slightly to give the royal couple some privacy.

 

"Precisely. Although, I did want to speak to you about our child. I have two names picked out, Elisa and Christopher, if you like them. Also, if you are looking for Roland, I should hope you would avoid Roland's room for a while longer, as it seems he was trying to get Lyenna to join you in pregnancy," Theodore said, smirking at his clever wording.

 

Elayne just rolled her eyes, but something seemed off even as she playfully patted her husband on the stomach, "If you don't lay off the sweets, you may join us as well! But, it was actually you I was looking for. A message from Farrun arrived, with sorrowful news. It seems as though the city is besieged, as we expected."

 

Theodore's smile, which sprung up from his wife's joke, quickly dissolved into a frown. "And what of Colin and Irene? Are they safe?"

 

Elayne grabbed Theodore's pudgy hand, stroking the back of it as she solemnly said, "I am afraid not. The newborn, Dilborn after my father of course, is safe, but Colin and Irene...his guard captain, a cousin of Duke Maul, was apparently working for the Jehannians, and managed to pay off a few guards to join him in assassinating Lord Ryger and Lady Ryger. I'm so sorry, I knew you were fond of them. Thankfully, Duke LaRouche and Duke Endre were able to regain order, and the city is supposedly holding strong, and the baby is being well looked after. But, they need reinforcements as quickly as possible."

 

Theodore sighed, shaking his head as he did. "Gods damn Lielle and her piss-worth allies! There will be no solace for any of them, man woman or child!"

 

Elayne hugged her husband, and he returned the embrace. "You had better go now, or risk irritating your allies. Here, take the letter as well, although I have told you all of its contents."

 

The queen turned and walked back down the hallway she came, her head hanging as she did.

 

Theodore set off again, his drive and purpose renewed. The guards kept their distance, knowing that the man from earlier who had joked about starting a war was dead and gone. A minute or so later, they reached the war room, a large room with a central, rectangular table. On the walls were several maps, as well as a free rolled up on a shelf.

 

Gathered around the table were men from every city that had allied with Theodore. Lord Estermont, along with his vassals Duke Otus, Duke Wirich, Baron Tilwald, and Baron Perrick, all were present, seeing as they would be marching from here soon. Representing Daggerfall was Duke Gondwyn, while the rest of the Daggerfallians waited for the fleet to sail south and there join them. For Camlorn, Theodore, along with the young Duke Theirry, Duke Vette, Baron Eardwulf and Baron Kirbath, with Theirry and his ships sailing to join Northpoint, along with Kirbath. Vette and Eardwulf would travel south with Theo and his ships. Legate Reyderic Montrose hovered near the table, while the lone man from Northpoint, Lord Traven's cousin Thonir, stood next to the legionnaire.

 

"Good day, sirs," Theodore addressed his allies, but he was solemn and downcast, or at least showed to be, "or, it would have been had I not just received a letter from Farrun. As we long suspected they would, the Rolston forces began the siege of Farrun. The letter was marked as having been sent four days prior, so no doubt they are in the thick of it. But it was not in my nephew, Lord Ryger's hand the letter was scribed, but that of Duke LaRouche, for Colin Ryger and Irene Ryger were both slain in cold blood, the latter only days after giving birth to a proud son Dilborn Ryger. The vile, low-born man who did this was their guard captain, but he is killed and the baby alive and well."

 

"The bastards...I assume the city is safe?" the man who spoke was Duke Vette, a handsome man in his early forties, and an expert archer.

 

"The city is secure. But this attack shows that our enemies have little soul left, and deserve to rot in the dirt. That is why I shall make a proposal, radical as it may be, but so that we can ensure that nothing like this sort of treachery happens again. The lords of these lands have king rebelled, undoubtedly with the assistance of their families. When we win, and we discover any treachery beyond that of the lord himself, such as a wife slandering me or a son participating in battle, I move that we eradicate, down to the youngest member, their entire family. As we have seen, they are very capable of doing to same, and feel no remorse about it. We must steel our nerves and ensure a safe, peaceful world for our children, one where they need not fear retaliation from some traitors child. What say the, my friends?" Theodore asked the men, who wore varying looks of disgust, sly happiness, and sorrow.

 

"They've made the first move, struck the first blow. Why should ours not be that much more potent? I say we slay them all, so as to prevent any future danger, as our king said so well. Kill them all!" Baron Eardwulf said, while several men echoed with cries of "Here here!" and "Aye!" while fists pounded the oaken table.

 

While those that supported the notion were the louder party, there were several that felt uncomfortable with the notion. Duke Theirry and Baron Kirbath both looked ill at ease, the former appearing as if he might vomit, while Legate Montrose looked decidedly upset about the entire thing.

 

"It is settled then. As King of High Rock, I decree, from this day forth, that any treachery or traitorous activity outside of the lord himself will result in immediate execution of his entire family, down to the smallest child and oldest grandmother," the king said, writing down the order as he did. Turning to a guard, he said, "Take this to the scribe, and have him send copies to all the traitors. Make sure they get this decree."

 

"Yes, my liege," the man said, scurrying off quickly. As he did, Roland Adrard slipped in quietly, his hair slightly rustled but otherwise inconspicuous.

 

"Now, the war plan. Lord Estermont, you are to take the Legate's forces as well as your own on the road to Wayrest. Is that fine with you, Legate Montrose?"

 

Montrose was still visibly uncomfortable at the prior announcement, but seemed relieved to move on. "We shall be glad of the company on the long march."

 

"Good. I should hope it wouldn't be too lonely. Estermont, did you also left some behind to guard the road north to Shornhelm and Northpoint, yes? Did you as well Thonir?"

 

"Yes, my king. I left around a third of my forces back home, guarding the narrowest mountain pass," Lord Estermont said in his deep, strong voice.

 

Thonir nodded. "A fifth of our own men remain to guard the roads, and another fifth, the beaches. An attack on Northpoint is unlikely, and our men are well trained. No more should be needed."

 

"Excellent. As for the rest of Lord Traven's men, they will join with two-fifths of my men, led by Duke Vette and Baron Kirbath. I will, along with Duke Mon, Duke Theirry, and Baron Eardwulf, sail south to unite my remaining forces with those of Daggerfall, and from there we can trap the Wayrestians between my own forces and those of Estermont," Theodore said, tracing the path of the armies with his pudgy finger on the map. "Now, if there are no other questions, it would prudent that we move now, as time is of the essence."

 

The king swept his head around the room, looking to see if there was any indication that someone may want to speak.

 

"What word is there of enemy group movements?" Thonir asked. "We know of the forces marching at Farrun, and those of Wayrest. What of the other rebel lords?"

 

"Evermor seems to have moved their forces in a two fold fashion, half of them assisting Jehanna while the other half assist Wayrest. They seem to believe their forces adequate in Wayrest to destroy any force that attacks. It would not surprise me to learn that that she views Evermor as near impenetrable, considering its mountainous position and being bordered by the Bjoulase River on the other side. She is foolish to think anything of the sort, obviously," Theodore said, not missing the chance to slander his enemy.

 

Several men nodded in agreement, with some genuine in their disgust for Lielle and others taking the opportunity to look good in front of their king. But no one uttered another question, so with a bow Lord Estermont led the procession of nobles out of the war room.

 

"Roland," Theodore said, indicating he wanted his son to stay. Soon everyone had filed out, leaving on the king and the Prince behind.

 

"You were late, I noticed. But with good reason I presume?" the father asked.

 

"It takes two to produce and heir, of course," Roland said simply, toying with an enemy army marker on the map.

 

"You missed my decree, however, and it is one I think you should hear. Anyone outside the lord or duke or baron that commits treachery condemns their entire family to death. Of course, I was forced to do this in light of the Jehannains murdering Lord and Lady Ryger, but it brings me little pleasure."

 

Roland looked up quite surprised by the revelation his cousins were dead, and the startling realization that they were in a very similar situation to his own was striking. Young, recently married, with a newborn, something that the younger Adrard lacked but likely not for long.

 

"I'm sorry to hear," he finally said, his fingers setting the marker back in its place.

 

"I am sure you are," Theodore said dryly, causing Roland to suspiciously glance a his father, who continued, "but the fact remains that you missed this meeting, and while the business was urgent, you neglect the fact that all of my work and effort, scheming and murdering and compromising will be for naught if you do not follow my lead. No more maids or whores or other noble's daughters. You will devote more time to both Mido and Seles' teachings, once we are done. As for that, be sure to pack warmly for Farrun. And be careful. Remember what Mido and Vette taught you, and use that brain of yours."

 

Roland rolled his eyes slightly at his father's suggestions, but only because he didn't want to admit Theo was right. Lyenna had mentioned the same thing, oddly enough, that he should buckle down now more than ever. He was quite fond of her, Lyenna. She was sweet and kind, but he doubted she would bat an eye at the news of this decree or any atrocities attached to a war. She had a toughness to her Roland liked, as well as a willingness to please her husband, in more than one way. No doubt under her father's orders to produce an heir as quickly as possible, but it mattered little to Roland the reason in which she bedded him.

 

"I know," the prince said, straightening up into the correct posture his etiquette teacher would no doubt enjoy much more than his slouch. "I am trying, father, as I too know that the days of old are just that, old and gone. I just wish I could be in a more exciting place than Farrun. Especially with Baron Kirbath, he is so dull, in every sense of the word. All he talks about is stonework this, masonry that, as if I care what improvements he's adding to his lousy keep."

 

Theodore chuckled slightly, recalling all too well that almost every conversation with Kirbath led to talks of castles, no matter what the occasion or subject.

 

It didn't change the fact that Roland's safety was much more important than his happiness, so he quickly replied in his stern, fatherly manner, "Regardless of rather you like one of your vassals, or one of your vassal's vassals, you must learn to pretend to. Study up on Kirbath's land, Vette's archers, Eardwulf's dogs, and be able to speak with knowledge on these subjects. Pick up stories to tell, true or not, elicit laughter and smiles from your subjects, and they will love you. And once they love you, they will die for you, and that is true power. But first, listen to the Dunmer when she tells you which fork to use when, and the Imperial when he tells you when to parry and when to block. The other stuff will come soon enough."

 

Roland sighed, but again it was to hide having to admit his father was right. "So I have to go to Farrun?"

 

"Yes, and try and slay some traitors while you're there. It would be rather pointless for you to complain about going to not even register a kill. But be careful."

 

Roland smiled at he stood, and said, "I wouldn't be surprised if I killed more men in this war than you ever have."

 

"Fat chance. I must have never told you of what happened after the corsairs sacked Wayrest, much as we will soon. That was a one-sided battle if there ever was one, a true rout," Theodore boasted, although he was usually not one to do so.

 

"Until you do tell me, I remain skeptical. I had better go pack, and tell Lyenna we mean to leave soon," Roland said, dipping his head in a slight bow before leaving.

 

Theodore smiled after his son left, but it was soon wiped away when a cough broke out. Once that fit subsided, he thought, I've done alright with that one. Hopefully i haven't lost the touch when it comes to raising the next one. Gods be willing, we all make it though these wars healthy enough to raise our children. That would be a blessing indeed.

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Castle Skingrad
morning


At the edge of town, Maggie sent Leni on ahead and paused to watch some pickers hurrying to harvest a last batch of grapes for the season. Overnight the frost had half frozen them. They would make a dense, sweet ice wine.  Finally she forced herself to go on to the castle. There, Maggie half expected the guards to seize her, but all was as normal, and the steward reported that Count Darius was gone. No one knew where he’d gone or when he would return.

At a loss, Maggie went up to her mother’s room. Anna Bathory was at her dressing table, Leni plying her face with powder.

“Oh, darling!†Anna cooed when she saw Maggie. “How lovely that you are here. Janus has stayed away for days, the naughty boy, and won’t come see his mother. You both are terrible children. Always running off to the Imperial City or Elsweyr or some such place, and leaving your poor mother to fend for herself.â€

“You manage quite well, Mother,†Maggie said, leaning down to kiss Anna’s forehead. She came away with lips caked in powder. As if a vampire should need to be paler.  Exchanging a knowing glance with Leni, Maggie asked casually, “Where is Father?â€

“Oh who knows. In his study. Hunting. I hardly know. None of you care a whit for me. You’re all so cruel. But not Toffee and Pumpkin.†These were her enormous cats, who remained on the bed, curled up in a mass of fur. Anna looked from them to Maggie. “Have you heard the dreadful news about Elenburo?â€

Elenburo was Jocasta’s estate, now wrecked and burned by Khajiit terrorists. “I have. A dreadful thing. Let us pray that the violence doesn’t overtake Skingrad.â€

“Do you think it might?â€

At Anna’s fearful tone, Maggie recognized her mistake. There was no sense bothering a mad woman about the reality of the Thalmor threat. “No. No, our legions and our walls will protect us, never fear.â€

The countess smiled, docile once again. Suddenly she clapped her hands. “I think we should have a dinner. A ladies’ dinner. That Fidenas woman is a wretched creature but I suppose we cannot do for better company on short notice. You’ll deliver our invitation, won’t you, darling.â€

It all sounded like perfect torture, but Maggie only smiled wanly. “Jocasta may not be up for socializing, but I shall call on her.â€

Much to Maggie’s surprise and dismay, Jocasta accepted the invitation. With Darius gone, there was nothing to do but wait. From the bedrooms, Maggie went down to the lower floors and the servants’ quarters. She found Jem’s valet, Gervais, sitting ramrod straight in a chair, apparently doing nothing but staring straight ahead. She questioned him about Jem’s whereabouts, what he had been doing and if he had said anything about their father, but got no coherent answer from the man. His dark eyes followed Maggie’s movements like that of a snake watching its prey. Or another snake. For a moment Maggie wondered what arts Jem had employed to keep a mortal under such perfect control. There was more life in a dremora summons than in this man.

At a loss for what to do with herself, Maggie found her favorite stable boy and took him to her rooms for the afternoon. She needed to loose the restless energy, and feed, before she confronted Darius. At dinnertime she kicked the boy out and dressed herself in a dark burgundy shift and sheer black arm gloves.

As she stepped out into the hallway, Darius was waiting. He glanced at her attire. “Going somewhere?â€

“Mother’s giving a dinner.â€

“There’s no time for that. Come with me.â€

Maggie followed along, half marveling that she still did whatever Darius told her to do, like a marionette on a string. She regretted that her sword was back in her room with her riding gear. Had Darius timed his return for just that reason?

When they arrived at Darius’ study, he walked around the room, inspecting it, then turned and fixed his eyes on her. “What do you know of your brother’s... activities, lately?â€

“Nothing.â€â€¨

 

“Nothing?†The count's tone implied that he knew otherwise.

Maggie was about to repeat her denial when she recalled something. “He wanted money, a few months ago. Four thousand septims.â€

“And you didn’t think to tell me?â€

“Jem always wants money. I didn’t give him any, if that’s what you’re worried about.â€

Darius’ eyes flashed with anger, then his expression eased. “No matter. I know where he is and what he’s been doing. You are going to kill him for me.â€

Maggie controlled her reaction. Darius was watching her, gauging. She recalled the night Darius had sent her to Rufus Imbrex’s room with a vial of what she believed to be poison, his laughter the next morning when she had done exactly what he told her to do. Her mouth twitched, and she shook her head once. “No. No, I’m not going to do that.â€

Instead of raging, Darius turned and contemplated the little Dwemer tonal clock on one of his bookshelves. “Jem is the one who tried to kill Samuel. The money he wanted from you was to pay the assassin.â€

Now Maggie could not prevent her surprise from registering. “Jem hired an assassin to kill Samuel? A mortal assassin?†Her brother was stupid and clumsy, but this was a new level.

"A good one. Not good enough, as it happened.â€

“Is this why you sent Samuel away? Because you thought Jem might try again?â€

“More likely that Samuel would learn the truth.  I could manage Samuel, of course, but this has gone far enough. An Order member loaned him the money. An associate of Sofia’s. The fool believed that Janus was asking on my behalf.â€

“I assume this banker is now provisioning slaughterfish in Lake Rumare.â€

“He’ll be dealt with in due course. What I need right now is for you to go to your brother, and kill him.† At her pause, Darius sighed and went on, “Surely you see that once Samuel was out of the way, you were going to be next. Our little count considers his position as heir to be in jeopardy. He believed Samuel was too close in my trust, that he might usurp the whelp's place, with your assistance. Or the other way around.â€

Darius was watching her again. This scenario was uncomfortably close to the truth. Not usurp Janus’ place, dear Father. Yours.  “And you want me to kill him. Why not do it yourself?† Her only answer was a little crook of Darius’ mouth. Of course she knew why. Another test. "Who is to be your heir?"

 

"It will have to be another member of the family. You and I both know that Jem would never be a suitable heir anyway. He has forced my hand now. I will not have such disorder in my house. Of course you must be discreet."

 

Maggie turned and walked over to a chair, her hand resting on the back as her mind turned. Looking up, she said finally, “I will do it, but only under conditions.â€

His tone flat, Darius repeated, “Conditions?â€

“When this is done, things are going to change between you and me. No more orders. No chain-jerking or leash-shortening. I am going to open a publishing house of my own. You will not interfere. Ever. I’ll support the Order’s interests, but no longer as courtesan, and I will do so by my own lights and not yours. Who you choose as heir to Skingrad is up to you. I want nothing to do with it.† There was a pause, then she added, “And you will let me take Mother to Skyrim to be cured of our 'gift.' You will let her live out her mortal days in peace then go to her rest in Aetherius, neither in thralldom to our lords, nor to you. Your time of controlling every aspect of our lives is over.â€

Darius had been calm as Maggie spoke of her own independence, but at talk of Anna, he came slowly around, stepping between her and the door, and faced her. This is it, she thought, her mind still.

His voice was low. “And that is all you demand, little bird? You want to... fly free, is that it?â€

“Yes. What you need, Father, is a partner, not a slave. Surely you see it now. I am not like Jem, and I am not like you. I’m going to be my own person, and our Order will be better for it. The empire will be.â€

There was another long silence, then he said, “I almost strangled you in your crib, you know.† Maggie looked up, shocked.  Darius smiled. “I can remember standing over you, about to do it. I needed only one heir. Two would be a complication. I knew there would be rivalry. It made you both easier to control, but it would be a risk. I knew this, and so it has proved to be. With my hand around your little neck, I found I couldn’t do it. It is strange, in one so old as me, that a little Colovian farm girl and her get could have such a hold over to me, to stay my hand again and again. It is a weakness I will amend. You will kill Janus. Your mother will remain by my side for as long as I require her. And you will do exactly as I say, or I will strangle you as I should have done so long ago.â€

A tremor of rage went through her limbs. Darius said all of this with perfect assurance, a fully realized arrogance, as if it were already true. Maggie had an image of clawing his eyes out, of her fingers sinking into his brain. The longing to do it had never been stronger.

 

Inexplicably then, she thought of Jon Hard-Heart. A formidable, talented man, who had wasted everything on simple pride. Maggie had lectured the Nord on putting his own pride before the good of the empire, on using chaos to further his ambitions. At the time, her own conscience had been pricked, as she realized that hers and Samuel’s plan was the same sort of selfish ambition. Yet when it came down to it, it wasn’t for the empire that she was going to obey.

As if some other voice than her own was speaking, Maggie heard herself say, “Alright.â€

Something in her moved. Crumbled. She wished that Darius had actually strangled her as she lay in her crib. That would at least have had an end. Maggie now understood Gervais’ empty shell. It was fitting that a vampire, someone who sucked the life out of others, should have her own life drained from her.

Darius smiled briefly, but was not one to gloat. That would indicate that his victory had ever been in doubt. “Very well. You should leave tonight. Janus is hiding out in a priest’s home in Kvatch. Even wary as he is now, it shouldn’t be difficult for you to get close to him. He always had a soft spot for you. Finish him, and then return to the court mage’s bed. He’ll be emperor soon, I’m told.â€

Maggie barely heard him, numb as she was. She would do exactly as her father bid. The door moved. It parted, first a crack, then wider. Anna was standing there. Before Maggie even saw the dagger in her mother’s hand, its tip was protruding from Darius’ chest. Both Darius and Maggie stared at it, this alien thing. It was one of the weapons in display cases in the corridor.

The dagger was not the strangest thing, however. That was Anna’s voice. It was clearer than Maggie had ever heard it, such that at first Maggie didn’t even realize that it was her mother speaking.  “...my babies. You get me, but you can’t have my babies. That was our deal, Darius. You lied. You made them into monsters like yourself. My babies, my beautiful little ones...†As Anna spoke, it gave her a new energy. She yanked on the dagger until it came free, then plunged it into Darius’ back again.

He turned, tried to grab her arms. Anna grappled with him briefly, blood streaking her white gown, then she pushed him and backed away, leaving the dagger protruding from her husband’s back. The countess looked at her bloody hands, confusion returning to her eyes, the hard lines of her face softening back into their childlike contours.

Maggie watched this, rooted in her place. It must be a dream. Leni’s scream from the hallway brought her back to waking. Darius knelt on the carpet. He reached around, trying to grab the dagger still stuck in his back. It tore his tunic open as it came out. Under the bloody cloth, Maggie saw the dagger wounds recede. He was healing himself, beginning to stand.

Leni was still screaming. Guards were running towards the study.  Her eyes moving from Anna to Darius, Maggie stepped forward, took the dagger from her father’s hand, and plunged it into the back of his neck. He jerked and tried to cry out, a spell flaring in his hand. Before he could release it, Maggie wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her lips to his neck. The Lover’s Kiss would paralyze a mortal. A vampire could resist its effect, but not entirely. Darius was still struggling, though more feebly. Pulling the dagger out again, Maggie turned him and plunged it again and again into his chest. Guards tried to drag her off, but she threw them back with a telekinesis blast. No one tried to stop her then.

Only when even the last glimmer of undeath had left Darius Bathory’s eyes did she stop. There was a bloody cavity where his chest had been, though under her hands the flesh began to turn grey and powdery. Maggie saw Darius’ distinctive features dissolve into the dust that alchemists prized so much. The sight brought her out of her frenzy. He was dead. Her father, and their patriarch, a man that even the most powerful vampires revered and feared. Through days and nights of remaining locked in isolated rooms, with his the only face she saw, he had become the whole world, her very life. She felt a sudden panic that the dust she saw on her gloves was not his, but her own.

Anna came up behind her, kneeling. “Oh my. There, there. Don’t cry, Magdela. He’s alright. Your father needs his rest. Come along to dinner. Don’t cry, darling, you know you get all puffy when you do that. He’s alright. He’s alright."

***

The guards and servants were easily managed. There had been a family argument between the countess and the rebellious daughter, that was all. Count Bathory had not yet returned from his travels. He may stay away yet a while. Important business for the empire.

Anna Bathory was likewise easily dealt with.  She sent Leni to beg Jocasta’s forgiveness and retreated to her room with her usual malaise, complaining about her naughty, neglectful children who did not come to call even when both their parents were ill.

Maggie took what was left of the remains back to the hunting lodge. The raven was gone. She didn’t bother to light a fire, only remained there in the dark for a while, trying to make sense of a world without Darius Bathory in it. All her conspiracies, all the plotting with Samuel, and it had been...  Her laughter echoed in the rafters.

Finally, while it was still dark, she left the bag of ash and congealing blood behind and set out on the Gold Road, west, towards Kvatch.

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Skjari

Late noon

Cheydinhal 

 

It had taken another few days to reach Cheydinhal. The city surrounded by forests and beyond the green trees the Jerall and Valus Mountains could be seen rising to the sky in the distance. The day was bright with only a cloud dots here and there on the blue sky. But Skjari didn't care about the landscape at all and had only one focus in mind: To reach Cheydinhal and get the count to settle down. 

After leaving their horses at the stable and passing the western gates the castle was conveniently just a few blocks to the north and up a hill. Then another set of gates to the castle courtyard before finally getting stopped by the guards at the doorway into the castle. 

"I request an audience with the Viranus, Count of Cheydinhal." Skjari told the guards with a commanding voice. "And tell him... that I want to speak about a grey child."

 

"Who should I tell him is here, sir?" the middle-aged guard asked, his voice betraying a hint of annoyance. Apparently he wasn't one to take kindly to Nords, not so soon after the war.

 

"Lord Snowstrider, from the Imperial City."

 

The guard snapped to attention, then said, "Yes, m'lord. Right away." The man ran off, but appeared not five minutes later and said, "Right this way, m'lord. The count is ready at this instant for your meeting."

 

"Good. Lead the way then." Skjari said as he gestured for the guard to walk ahead.

 

"Sir, yes sir," the man said, awkwardly saluting. They then entered the castle, walking through a large and grand central hall, but it was not where Skjari was to meet Count Claevius. "The count prefers to meet in his private office, if you don't mind, m'lord."

 

"I expected as much." Skjari then turned to his companions. "Maximus, Bormir, you come with me. Rest stay here. And don't do anything stupid." Skjari paused for a second as he was almost about to turn back to the guard. "Try to not do anything at all till I get back." Then he finally turned back to the guard. "The count?"

 

"Of course," the Imperial man said, once again taking point as he led the trio of wizards to an outlying spire, and then began ascending the stairs. "The count loves to be able to see the countryside and the city while he works. Reminds him of who he is working for. Although I think it may also have to do with fleeing the countess, as she has been known to hound him on occasion. But she doesn't take kindly to stairs, and as such he is safe from her clutches up here," the guard was uncharacteristically blabbing, but he was equal parts nervous and anxious that the court mage was here, as it could mean only one thing. The capital was fed up with his master's speaking out, and the mage was here to stop it. That, and he usually didn't treat high ranking visited, but the butler or steward was currently disposed, so he had to do it, and as such wasn't sure how to address the Nord, whom he liked more now that he knew who he was.

 

Skjari only listened in on the guards chattering because he might mention something worthwhile. But he already knew about the count and his relationship with his wife. But throughout the whole walk he remained quiet and with a neutral expression, sometimes just giving a light nod or a simple word or even just a "hmm" to assure the guard that he was listening so guard wouldn't stop talking.

 

The guard continued to blabber on, until the group reached the top of the tower. "The count's office, m'lord. He said to send you in," the guard said, pushing the door open.

 

"Thank you." He said in a neutral voice. "You two stay outside for the moment." He then said in a commanding voice, without turning around, which was directed at the two following apprentices. And with that he stepped into the office.

Count Viranus Claevius, a pale man of his early forties, sat facing the large windows that overlooked the city. His rust colored hair didn't reach his shoulders, but one would still call it shaggy if they saw it. The count's right hand sat on the armrest, mindlessly drumming to some unknown rhythm. The left reached down to the floor, where a large shepherd style dog lay, his muzzle brown and long, hope the rest of hits body was black. It pointed ears, always standing up, were considerably more perked as the stems her walked in. Unlike its owner, who paid no heed to the Nord, the dog, Gus, walked over and sniffed the newcomer, eager to see who it was that climbed all the way up here.

Just to play friendly, Skjari reached down and patted the dog on the head and then scratched it a little behind the ear, before looking to the count. "I doubt much explanation will be needed." He then closed the door behind him.

 

The dog accepted the Nord affections, but only for a few seconds before he meandered back to his owner, who resumed his petting almost as if it had never stopped. "No, none at all. We both knew this day was coming. Take a seat, if you wish," Viranus said, still staring out the window, but pointing to chair against the wall that the large window was on.

 

Skjari walked across the room and took the seat. "So will you stop your barking and fall in line?" He said, no spite or anger or anything, just calm indifference in his voice.

 

"And why should I? For you, for this girl? Had I just walked into the palace and murdered her father like she did would I have had a hero's welcome? Funny, we went to war with Skyrin because one man challenged their king to a duel, in accordance with their beliefs, and we labeled him murderer and a usurper. But a former Thalmor bitch does it in cold blood and suddenly she's the savior of the Empire!" Count Claevius said, still staring out his window.

 

"Because if you don't, I'll let everyone, especially your wife and her family know about your little grey and pointy eared mistress. But more importantly, her son who just happens to be a little bit too old for them to be able to tolerate it."

 

The count didn't turn, but his face clenched up and he shifted in his seat, noticeably uncomfortable. "I regret nothing. I was young and foolish, and sometimes things like this happen. But that racist witch downstairs will no doubt never let me hear the end of it, and her family as well. I just can't see how I am supposed to support a young woman whose crimes were worse than those of Ulfric Stormcloak, as he at least challenges Torygg to a duel before killing him. And yet one was praised and the other shunned. This I am supposed to accept, without question?"

 

"I do not really care about what doubts you may have. And I wasn't a part of this political climate before Amuand's death, so I cannot really comment. But I will not risk civil war."

 

"So this is it? I now have to sit back and watch as this basically teenage lesbian run us into the ground. The populace may be too distracted by war to see the writing on the walls, but I see it all too well. Even if you do manage to produce an heir, what then? You think you, a relative unknown until a few months ago and this young girl can rule this province? I dare not call it an empire any longer, because if High Rock has any sense at all they will drop us like a hot stone. It matters not, I'm sure I'll have been assassinated and replaced by then. My wife speaks very favorably in regards to the empress, so she would be an excellent candidate, especially if you wish to alienate all the Dunmer as well," Viranus said, while his dog peeks it's head up, looked at both his master then the Nord, then laid his head back down when he found nothing of interest to him.

 

"I haven't run any kingdom or empire into the ground yet. And I don't think you'll be the one to die if the knowledge of your illegitimate child got out. My guess is that you'd be grounded while any threats to your legitimate children's inheritance would be removed."

 

"Surely you don't think me stupid enough to actually keep the child here? No, I long ago sent both the mother and child off to Morrowind. Even then, if I stop you must never tell Syloria or her family. They are too influential in this city for me to oppose them. Thankfully Mr. Afronia tends to like me more than his wife, but it would be a death sentence for my reign in this city if it gets out I have a bastard."

 

"Especially a dark elf of that age. And I know the child isn't here. But I do you send and receive letter from him and his mother every now and then. Just in case anyone doubts my accusations. And I wont tell anyone if you agree to my terms."

 

"How could you possibly...never mind, just lay the terms on me so I can be rid of this business."

 

"You already know them. Stop barking and fall in line. Or more clearly: cease your claim for the throne and start cooperating with the new ruler of the Ruby Throne."

 

Count Claevius finally turned to look at his visitor, locking eyes with him and saying, "We do it your way then. I submit, I cease my claim to the throne. But I cannot follow someone so ill equipped as Dales Motierre. What credentials do you have, since it seems you are to be the true power."

 

"The only thing I can show for now is that I've ended the remains of the skooma syndicate in Bravil. And that I've literally painted the streets of Leyawiin red in terrorist blood. I also stopped Tullius and his friend Jon from starting a civil war here in Cyrodiil."

 

"So what do you know of getting the Elder Council's support for a law? Or diplomacy? Or the inner workings of the several bureaucratic committees? What about before this, what did you even do?" The count asked, getting up and walking to his window, which was he opened to let in the soft breeze.

 

"I'm still figuring out how some Council member works. I know some diplomacy. And I've been studying some bureaucracy. But in the end of the day, all you need to know is a few simple rules. The rest is just figuring out who you're dealing with. And I've done a lot of things. You wouldn't even believe half of it."

 

"I'm sure you could regale me with your exploits for weeks without getting tired," Viranus said dryly, as he looked over the city. "Is that it? Are you done blackmailing me into submission?"

 

"I am. As long as you keep your end of the deal."

 

"I don't have much choice in the matter it seems."

 

"No. Stay as count and don't do anything stupid. And you'll have peace, and maybe one day, prosperity."

 

"I doubt I'll ever have both. Peace, maybe, but war is on the horizon, and soon no one will be peaceful. And as long as you have me in your grasp, I'll never he at peace. You have assured that."

 

"I was more referring to your county. You're still far from the southern border. You can still make this a good place for your children to live in."

 

"But always with the shadow of what I've done hanging over them. One foolish night years ago...I may be far from the border, but I am by no means safe with this information known."

 

Skjari frowned a little for second as his voice got an impatient and annoyed undertone. "Your situation hasn't actually gotten worse. You're still count, you still rule this city and it's surrounding lands, but you still have to answer to the Ruby Throne."

 

"If you found out, it is only a matter of time before others do. Do not think that you coming here will have gone unnoticed. The next blackmailer may not be as generous as you. But we all make choices, and they come with consequences. I just should hope my children and my people do not have to pay for my mistakes."

 

"Better take some steps to cover up the information a bit better then. Anyway, I think it's time for me to take my leave."

 

"You will excuse me if I do not bid you a fond farewell, I hope. I doubt you would if someone had just blackmailed."

 

Skjari got up form the chair. "I don't need you to like me. I need you to understand and cooperate. Good day to you." And with said, Skjari left the room, leaving the count to his self pity.

As Skjari left the count's room, he gathered his apprentices on the way out of the castle. Once they've picked up their horses and was a league away from the city a courier ran up to him and handed him a message. A message from high General Gracchus. Asking about telling the count about a request for some troops as well as some information about an idea to move orcs to the mountains bordering to Morrowind and Black Marsh. I have to go all the way back? Skjari thought as he a little frustrated had to turn his horse and the entire company around just to go back to the city.

 

******

 

Alduin's Fire, I need a bath. Skjari thought as walked into the garden of the Imperial Palace. But then he suddenly heard dales' voice from somewhere into the garden.

"And you would be happy to know Raine's alright...she isn't drinking as much as before..." 

Skjari wondered who Dales was gossiping with. And walked in the direction from where he heard her voice. He found her in a slightly secluded part of the garden. Dales was wearing a black dress, along with a pair of fashionable dark gloves, contrary to her white skin and pale blonde hair. She was standing over a ornate gravestone, carrying a large bouquet of flowers. Just by her voice you could tell she was holding back tears. 

"Your with Miku, right? I...hope she's not being too annoying." She chuckled, a hollow chuckle. Her eyes were getting watery.

 

Skjari quietly walked up behind Dales and put a hand on her shoulder. "She's not coming back."

 

Dales turned around in surprise and embraced the mage, burying her face into his chest. "Master..."

 

"Yes, yes." He responded,his voice somewhat indifferent to Dales' sadness. He patted her a little on the head at first, but then he suddenly caught a glimpse of someone else some distance into the garden, he gave her a full embrace as he instead spoke a low and comforting tone. "I'm here." Just in case anyone was watching.

 

"Are you sure...there isn't anyway to bring back the dead? I would do anything to see her smiling face again." She turned, weeping, "All those girls I had sex with...I always imagined I was doing it with her. It just made me want her even more. I cant stand living without her anymore. I cant take it..."

 

"Her soul is blessed by Arkay. There's no bringing her back."

 

"No...way...." Her features becoming downcast, she asked, in a shy voice, "You...you told me once you loved somone dearly, and she was taken from you. How-how did you cope? I've tried...I've tried to detach myself from my emotions...but that doesn't help."

 

"I don't know. But I know wallowing in it doesn't help."

 

"What can I do? Bury myself into my work. All that does is make me feel worse. I've tried asking Lilly, she's a physician, not a psychologist." She lowered her voice considerably, "Your like ten thousand years old, surely you have infinite knowledge."

 

He lowered his voice as well. "I've only been active for a bit more than a thousand of those years. I just keep going, because giving up is never my way. And there's no joy or gain in giving up. There's always a tomorrow." 

 

"I suppose your right."

 

"Lets get back to the palace?"

 

She gently layed down the bouquet of flowers. Then she smiled, offering him her slightly small hand, "Take a girl for a walk?"

 

"Of course my dear." He said as he took her hand, which he could feel very well despite still wearing his gauntlets. And then led her back to the palace. She let her head fall on his shoulder as they walked away. 

Once inside the palace he stopped for a second so some servants could see. "I got a little present for you." He held up his free hand, but it was empty. Then he closed and opened it and there lied a delicate gold ruby ring in Nibenese design. 

 

"Oh...how pretty..."

 

He held up her and put the ring on her finger, then leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Just don't ask where I got it."

 

"Giving your bride to be shady rings, now?" She smiled, giving him a peck on the lips.

 

"Well lets just say; to the victor goes the spoils. And there's a lot of dead losers in Leyawiin. Anyway, I'm going to take a bath. Can you go tell Lilly I want her company?"

 

"Good girl." He said in a cheerful and playful voice and ruffled her hair a little and then gave her a kiss on the cheek, before going back to whispering. "And tell her to be discrete."

 

"Of course." She said leaving her master.

 

Skjari himself went his separate way into the almost endless and winding halls of the palace till he finally reached the bathroom. The bathroom was quite big with a dragon statue on the other side of the bath, constantly pouring fresh warm water from it's gaping mouth into the bath. The bath was formed in a large circle and the imperial dragon symbol could be seen at the bottom in dark red mosaic. There was also a large wooden screen between the bath and the door, probably to prevent any curious soul from peeking through the keyhole. 

Skjari removed the armor and armaments and put them in a corner on some towels and then threw off the clothes in a pile next to it. And after traveling for some weeks now and with little time to relax, slipping down into the warm clean water felt like a blessing from the gods. 

 

"Lord Snow-Strider." Lilly entered into the bathing area, clad in Oculatus leather armor.

 

Skjari turned his head to get a better look at her. "Hello Lilly. How have things been going since I left?"

 

"Cyrodili is stable. However, I wish I could say the same about High Rock." 

 

"What happened? I picked up word on the road that their usual internal strife has gone up a notch. And why don't you get that armor off? The water is lovely."

 

Lilly stripped naked, taking off everything except her panties. She went into the water, dunking her head in for a second, "Full on civil war. Some families are resisting King Theodore's rule. Dales has already given him permission to utilize legion forces stationed there."

 

Skjari put an arm around her and pulled her closer. "Hopefully it'll be dealt with soon enough. But if he doesn't get it under control soon, I might take a few men and go there myself."

 

She gave him a sly smile, "Take on the rebels yourself? That would be a sight."

 

"It probably would." He paused for a second. "Anything else happened?"

 

"A certain admiral, Tacticus dissappered, and returned recently. He was taken prisoner by the Dominion."

 

"He actually managed to escape?" His voice had a hint of disbelief.

 

"That's what he claims." She paused for a moment while she got a thoughtful expression. "And I think I should tell you; a sister from my coven attempted to seduce Dales with magic perfume. A real snake, my third cousin, Mary Quentas. I dealt with her." 

 

"Snake? Karsh told me about a nice brunette with a pet snake he met in your house. Same person?"

 

"Yes. I should have filled her with throwing knives while I had the chance, along with her pet."

 

"I would be careful with that. If she dies people might start wondering why she died. And I thought we were going to tone down Dales' sexual preference."

 

"It isn't Dale's fault, that perfume messed with her head. Thank the nine Captain Imperius was the one who caught her in the act, he's discreet and will remain quiet.  She hasn't had sex with anyone in a month."

 

"While she probably isn't trustworthy, I would be careful in what judgement to pass before we know what she was after. Death is a punishment usually reserved for traitors."

 

"I was joking by the way about turning her into a pincushion."

 

"As long as she doesn't mess with Dales any more, I doubt she would be much of a threat. And regarding Karsh..."

 

"Ah, the annoying raven. Little Helen took quite the interest in him, me on the other hand..."

 

"I don't want to have to travel all the way to Bruma or even Skyrim just to catch another one of the nordic breed. And then spend another month enhancing and teaching it. You don't have to like him, just tolerate him and keep him fed and safe."

 

"Fine."

 

"And why so hostile towards him to begin with? I know he can be annoying. But I don't think that warrants the treatment you've given him."

 

"Raven's are naturally distrustful animals. They steal and laugh at everyone. Don't like them, especially talking enchanted ones."

 

"They're also quite clever, even without enchantments. Anyway, anything else I should know?"

 

"Dales seems to be recovering physically and emotionally."

 

"I found her in the garden in front a grave, talking."

 

"Really? To who?"

 

"Elen, I think her name was. The girl who died in Skyrim."

 

"Elan. Raine told me about her. Her and Dales shared puppy love. Shell get over her."

 

"Hopefully." Skjari paused for a second. "So how did the docks warehouse go? Was he looking to sell?"

 

"Everything went smooth. No one expects a things."

 

"Good. Can you do me a favor and find another suitable 'seller'? Take your time, don't want to rush."

 

"Sure."

 

"Thank you." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "So, how is the new high general doing?"

 

"He's alright. Don't like some of his subordinates though, that General Retrius doesn't know what I'm capable of it seems."

 

"What about this Retrius?"

 

"Insulted you, is extremely disloyal and rude about Dales, insulted me. If he wasn't a damn good general, I would have already turned him into a frog."

 

"He's not above insubordination, or the law. I doubt he will dare to throw insults around for long."

 

"Turning him into a frog can wait for after the war. For now, he's of use to the empire."

 

"You don't have to deal with him. Just send any reports with an agent."

 

"You're the boss."

 

"And your boss got you a present."

 

"And what may that be?"

 

Skjari put the tops of his fingers together in front of Lilly and when he pulled them apart a silver necklace appeared. It was had a elegant design with vines and leaves along with with three flowers, one big and two small and in the center of each flower was a sapphire. "What do you think?"

 

"Its beautiful." She said her eyes glittering, "I can't accept this...."

 

"Why not?"

 

"It...must have been expensive. You should give this too someone you consider precious."

 

"But you are precious." And I only had to spill a bit of thieving cat blood for it.

 

"I....am?" She said blushing.

 

"You are." He said and brought the ends of the necklace around her neck and fastened them together. Letting the necklace rest slightly above her breasts. And she let her head fall to his chest.

"Want to have some fun before we leave this warm bath?"

 

"I would love that." She said and then cast a water breathing spell. And gave him a kiss before she slipped down under the surface. 

 

******

 

Still a bit wet in the hair, Skjari had now changed to his more colorful noble's clothes with red and blue with gold trimmings. He knocked on the door to the new high general's office. 

Gracchus was reading a letter from Engineer Valvius, detailing that he was in the process of streamlining the catapult designs to make taking them apart easier, which would in turn make transportation easier. He had just finished when a knocked at the door drew his attention, so he set the letter off to the side.
"Come in," Gracchus said, wondering who it could be.

 

Skjari opened the door and walked right in. "Hello. Lets just skip the pleasantries and get right to the point." He said as he quickly walked to and sat down in the chair opposite of Gracchus' desk. "I managed to find a copy of your service record. You'll get to keep your position for now. Just don't lose your head. But there's one more thing, there was a quite recent entry into your record, detailing very dishonorable action on your part that cost a lot of men and that you then blamed your mistake on a fellow legionary who got executed. So I wonder; are you trying to lighten your heart before getting this position or are someone trying to frame you."

 

Gracchus' shock was evident, as he had never heard of any such entry on his record. The most recent entry he could remember was the Falkreath Incident, and that wasn't anywhere close to the circumstances Skjari described. "Framing. It must be. My most recent entry should be Falkreath, or Hammerfell if they are that up to date. But who is trying to frame me? That seems to be the mystery."

 

"I don't know. It says that these events happened during the more chaotic part of the Great War and was just recently brought to light. And I suspect this would just be the first step, as they would also need to draw attention to this for it to have real effect."

 

"Who would have access, not only to the records, but the means to change them? Until we could figure that out, it seems we must wait and see who tries to reveal this information," Gracchus said, still perplexed as to who would do this. Lithin, possibly, as Lilly had said ther was some animosity between them. Maybe another general who kept their discord quieter. Besides that, Gracchus couldn't recall any other enemies with access to military records.

 

"Either someone with authority or someone very sneaky. And if this fella is smart, he wont reveal this information himself but rather tip someone off. And while we wait, I suggest you take some steps to assure people this is a lie."

 

"What steps would that be? If I deny something that isn't even out yet it looks suspicious, to say the least."

 

"I don't know right now. Need to think on it a bit more before I can come up with a good answer. Anyway, something else you would want to discuss?"

 

"Yes, actually there is. Now that my job here is permanent, I hope you and the Empress will include me in any decisions that affect the military. I want to be sure that any mistakes my predecessors made will not be repeated. Also, I trust you received my letter?"

 

"Yes, I did. Had gotten a good deal away from the city when it arrived. I don't like having to play messenger. And you also want to attract orc immigrants to the border mountains near Cheydinhal."

 

"Considering the recent unrest in the county, I thought it prudent that you deliver the message, or else it might not be heeded. As for the Orcs, reestablishing ourselves as a diverse province again, with the help of our long allies the Orcs seemed a wise idea. It would also give us another ally in the next war."

 

"I doubt they would migrate in large enough numbers for an alliance with them was to matter much in the next war. First you need to make them believe any promise you make. Then organize so they can pass through Cyrodiil without much trouble arising. And after that you'll need to help them settle in properly. Making promises doesn't cost anything but I don't know how much they'll believe us. But getting them through Cyrodiil and getting settled will cost money and manpower. And with the southern border and the looming war, there wont be much left to spare for this venture."

 

"It will be considerable undertaking, but we need something to look forward to besides just war. We must continue to build for after the war, otherwise we will have a generation of children who know nothing but war and preparation for war. I do, however, fail to see how this will cost us any substantial amount of money. The orcs will walk, or ride, or travel how they see fit, while all we have to do is allow them passage into Cyrodiil. There will be those that take to stealing or trespassing once here, and we will deal with them as we deal with all thieves and law breakers. Once we inform their leader of the boundaries of their land, they can begin to settle there, or anywhere in Cyrodiil for that matter. While we are not the most attractive destination as of now, the influx of travelers and settlers will add another source of income, as will trade with Orsinium once they are established. All we must do is provide the idea, and the land, and they will do the rest."

 

"I was referring to any supplies that would be needed for the travel and building of houses. While not exactly necessary, it'll definitely speed things up and give it all a much needed jump start. And I'd prefer if these orcs stay to a predetermined route to this new land. One that got more patrols. To help keep an eye on them for their and others' sake."

 

"We'll use a route that utilizes established roads so we don't have to pull additional guards to watch over them. As for building supplies, I would expect they can mine and pull down trees from the mountains, but yes I can see if any ship builders and stone masons have surplus supplies to donate, or buy at a cheap rate. That'll allow them to settle quickly, and hopefully attract more immigrants."

 

"Though I wouldn't put my money on that the first immigrants have much in the way of tools to work the stone and wood. And you just pulled guards from Cheydinhal. Their roads will be less patrolled. And if you've done the same with Bruma, their roads will be less patrolled as well."

 

"Only Chorrol and Cheydinhal have had their guards reduced. I can supplement them with patrols from my legion stationed here in the city, as they are growing restless as is, and maybe they can clear out some bandits while they're at it. As for tools, I'll see if I can find some more cast off or cheap tools in bull to provide them. The orcs have been good miners in the past, so stone working tools shouldn't be in short supply. I hope they can even get to some of the deeper veins in the mountains that were too expensive for us to mine. Then we would have a direct line to a new source of ores."

 

"I'm just expecting those that will jump at the opportunity of a new start will be those that have little to nothing as they have little to lose when leaving their previous home behind."

 

"And hopefully they can become more prosperous with our help. I have a list of Elder Council members who I think would be the ideal candidates to go meet with both the Dunmer and the Orcs. There's really not a lot to meet with the Dark Elves about, just to warn them about the possibility of raiders should some Orcs decide to go that path."

 

"Try to make more like a peace treaty so the Dunmer don't get any ideas of making preemptive strikes."

 

"I'll pass that on to the diplomats. Do you want to look over the list or shall I handle it all? I can have a copy made, if you wish."

 

"I'll let you handle it. Though I wouldn't mind a copy."

 

"I will have one sent over soon. Well, is there anything you would like to discuss? I am sure you have a lot to get to since you've just arrived."

 

"Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

 

"You may remember Eduard Laenius, who served with me in Skyrim. He's coming back to the Legion, in an assisting role with me."

 

"Nothing else?"

 

"I met with the generals of the other legions. We decided to lower the draft age to fifteen, institute a lighter plate mail armor in place of our heavy armor, and to pull guards from Chorrol and Cheydinhal to supplement the forces in Anvil and Leyawiin. General Antonia also requested using her legion to fight bandits, as they are quite green apparently. We also discussed suggesting to the navy that someone watch Admiral Meridius, seeing as he was captured by the Thalmor after all," Gracchus said, leaning back in his chair. He suddenly snapped to attention, though, when he realized he had forgotten the most important news of all. "Sunbirds! By the nine, I almost forgot to tell you that a mysterious package wax left in the High Admiral's office, and it contained numerous and detailed diagrams and blueprints of the supposed Thalmor Sunbirds. The High Admiral went to retrieve a Telvanni mage from Kvatch by the name of Endar Drenin, who has experience in these matter. We hope he can help us figure them out."

 

Sunbirds? Sounds oddly familiar. "Okay. And what about these diagrams? Can I have a look on them?"

 

"Yes actually, I have them here," Gracchus said, reaching for a group of scrolls on a table near him. "Here you go. To be honest, we have no idea where they came from. They just seemed to appear."

 

Skjari took the diagrams and looked them over. Even they looked familiar. The elven texts were also of a very old version. But one things stood out for him among the elven texts were small notes written in the ancient runic alphabet of the nords. And they were his notes. Though they weren't in his handwriting. Skjari got a very thoughtful expression along with blank stare as he tried to remember where he had seen this before. A vague memory of his servants doing a raid somewhere and that they came back with magical artifacts, diagrams and schematics. Some of which seemed to have been experimental or in various stages of development. But he had only given it some minor attention as he had been almost obsessed with trying to unlock the secrets of the Soul Cairn, and death itself, at the time. 

Snapping back to reality Skjari looked over the diagrams again and then to Gracchus. "Interesting. Though we should get this texts translated if we're to really make sense of it all."

 

"I hope that's what Master Drenim will be able to do. The less people that know about this, the better. Unless you can translate it, of course," Gracchus said.

 

"Might have a lexicon somewhere. If you have them sent to my office I'll see if I can have them translated. I'll leave them with you for now if you want to have any copies made."

 

"I'll have a copy of each one made before I send them off. We don't want something to happen to the one set of diagrams and us be without the information."

 

"No, we don't. Anything else, or is it time I get back to the world of political scheming?"

 

"Nothing else. In sure you have plenty you need to do. Good day, Lord Snow-Strider," Gracchus said, rising and extending his hand.

 

"Good day." Skjari said as he also got up and shook Gracchus hand. Then he left the room and shut the door behind him. 

 
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Stalks-Deep-Waters, Brund

Border between of Falkreath near The Reach

Noon

 

It had been a few days since the chase from Whiterun Hold had begun. At some point Lilith seemed to have picked up a horse on the road. At least there was a murdered hunter that smelled like horse on the road in the direction of which the chase went. And while the twins were fast, but their armor still weighted them down and Stalks got frustrated with them always falling behind. So one morning he woke up and left early without waking them up, leaving them to catch up at their own pace. But he had no plans on letting them catch up. His plans were to kill Lilith, take her head and be gone before they arrive. 

Now he was following a trail of hooves and some other wolf-like creature along the road towards The Reach. The road was paved with stone but the dirt still covered enough of it for the footprints to show up about every yard or so to leave a good trail to follow. 

Stalks ran at a good pace, glancing down at the dirt patches to see if they had changed direction and gone off road. By now, the trees were starting to clear away and become more spaced. The soil turned hard and limestone and granite was plentiful. As the hills and mountains started to show less and less green, it was evident that Aela and Lilith had made it into the Reach. Not too far from the road where Stalks was, a blood curdling cry from a feminine source could be heard coming from a forest of dead trees near what sounded like a rather large river channel.

Stalks picked up pace and drew his bow and arrow, the bow in the left hand and the arrow in the right hand. As the sounds of screaming grew louder, another noise overshadowed that of the woman from before. An earsplitting howl rushed through the trees and the sound of what seemed to be metal against metal clashing fiercely was coupled with snarling and more pained and evidently horrified yelling from the female, even if she was also laughing.

As Stalks got closer he slowed down and soon began to crouch as he instead sneaked forward. He went off road and up the left rocky hill where he hid behind the cliffs as he made his approach. Soon he saw Lilith and a beast that made him barely believe his own eyes, a werewolf. They were fighting, or more like Lilith using the werewolf for target practice as she tried hurling balls of fire at the beast while it tried getting close enough to rip Lilith's head off without being lit up. 

Stalks moved behind the cliffs slightly more uphill so he could get a better vantage point. There was no point in getting involved just yet. 

Lilith gave up on the fire balls and decided to charge at the creature blindly, with her ebony sword in the air above her head. The creature seemed to have a look of disbelief itself at the mad charge, but soon, the creature charged as well in a mad rush, much faster than Lilith's. Just as the two foes were about to meet, Lilith's sword floated from her briefly before being shot away towards the werewolf's torso.

Instead of evading the attack, the creature kept running for the Dunmer, and her eyes widened as a large swipe came flying towards her body, sending her flying back before hitting a tree hard on her skull, putting her out cold, possibly even killing her. The werewolf howled out triumphantly before slowly making her way to its prey. But before it could reach her, the werewolf stopped and turned, sniffing the air as in search of something, or someone.

Suddenly, its eyes widened and it snarled in anger, turning its yellow eyed gaze around this way and that. And Stalks quickly pulled back behind the rocks and then only leaned out a little in order to peek at the beast. Run away you little dog. Don't feed. And if you do, don't ruin the head. Stalks thought as he readied the arrow onto the bow but not drawing the string. There was silence for a while and nothing could be heard. Not the beast's breathing, not it's growling, not even a breeze could be heard for that matter. All was silent at the moment. Lilith, one who was so animated was still out cold, her insanity being stilled, which only added to the eerie atmosphere.

Carefully, Stalks stuck his head out from the cliffs more and more to get a better look. But the beast was miraculously gone, nowhere to be seen. Stalks didn't hesitate to jump down the cliff and run downhill towards Lilith. He wanted to get the head and be long gone before the big wolf could return. It wasn't even a moment's time after Stalks came out of hiding before the barren wooded area was filled with another earsplitting howl. But it came not from behind Stalks, but above him. From behind a large decaying and rotted tree, the werewolf crawled its way to the front to see the Argonian trying to claim its prize. Obviously it took issue with that, because it was now falling with clawed hands and paws outstretched to swiftly claim the Argonian's life. Stalks quickly threw himself to the side and rolled half around so he lied on his back. Then drew the string of the bow and the let the arrow lose, without taking proper aim, in the direction of the werewolf. The beast although large, was frighteningly agile, though the large size meant that at such close distance, it only barely missed the projectile. Not taking time for pause at the near blow, the werewolf continued charging the Argonian. From behind, the Dunmer woman just started to stir and she was now observing the scene with a smile slowly creeping on her face. Her red eyes were more red than most, being red in color and in what they were so attuned to seeing and longing to see. Which was no different now, as she and her eyes both wished fervently to see the Argonian's blood spilled on the rocky ground.

Several thoughts on how to survive rushed through Stalks head. Invisibility was not an option when the beast so close. He would be dead before he could even get another arrow onto the bow. And he had barely gotten up in a crouching position as the beast made it's first swipe towards him. The long arms would make it hard to keep a distance but they could also work against the beast. He let go off the bow and leaped towards the werewolf with arms outstretched as he went to latch onto the beasts belly. And surprisingly the move worked. The swipe missed and his arms latched on around the beasts neck and his feet around the belly and his own claws on all four, the claws on his feet cut through his boots, buried themselves into the thick leather skin to make sure he stayed latched on. He opened his mouth, displaying the rows of razor sharp teeth, and tried to bite at the beasts throat.

Before it knew it, the rows of thick needle like teeth from the Argonian was at the creature's throat, which due to the shape was just the thing to pierce its tough skin. Calling out in pain the werewolf angrily grabbed at Stalks in an effort to try and force him off. From behind, Lilith slowly stood, sword in hand after she picked it up from the ground, which was bloodied from after the creature tore it out, then she crept as silently as she could towards the two to strike while they were distracted.

Stalks gnawed till he could feel a steady stream of blood come from the throat. Turning around his head to spit out the blood he saw a tree approaching very quickly as the beast was apparently going to smash him against it. He quickly threw himself off the beast to the side, rolled and got up on his feet as he turned around to face the beast again. 

 

"Hey! Stop!"

 

"Farkas, you idiot, shhh!" Too late. The twins finally caught up to the scene and Farkas came running at the Argonian at full speed, which was considerable for a man his size and in heavy armor, though the downward slope helped. Vilkas surveyed the scene and saw Lilith running towards Stalks now with her blade over his head.

 

"Behind you, lizard!"

 

Stalks felt a little confused with the situation. Farkas in front of him who he was half turned to, the beast on hes side and something more behind him according to the twins. He threw himself again to the side, this way towards the only direction which seemed to be empty. Rolled and got up on his feet again to turn around again, this time with the dagger drawn and held outwards with the hand. I'm getting tired of throwing myself and rolling here and there. 

Just as Lilith was about to move in for another strike, an arrow shot out of nowhere burying itself in the werewolf's shoulder, the second wound that it sustained since the fighting started. The beast, turning towards the direction of the shot in surprise of being surprised, took off into the woods and soon tackled a woman from behind the tree at once. The snapping of bone and tearing of flesh was all they heard until more arrows came flying. Soon, the forest was alive with the battlecries of men and women they could not see.

The werewolf ignored all of this, even as another arrow struck it and consumed the heart of the savage looking female. Strength renewed, the beast stood on its hind legs with renewed vigor and let out the most heinous of howls released all day. Lilith felt the howls pierce her very mind, filling her head with grotesque images of death and murder, maws tearing her asunder. But all she did was smile with a longing stare as if fantasizing about the blood that would soon be spilled. 

To answer the beast's call, more of the savage men and women came running out from their hiding places from many different sides to ambush the fighters standing center stage. The beast was the first to strike, hopping up in the trees, pulling victims away along with it to be torn above them as their angry and fearful cries fed its blood lust.

Stalks quickly managed to sheath his dagger and pull out his spear in time for the first savage to get close enough to have his throat impaled on it. For Stalks, fighting with the spear had always had a feel of fishing, but with less water. Another came running from the side and made a swipe with the strange spiky bone sword. Stalks quickly ducked and swung around, hitting the man's legs with the tail causing him to lose balance and stumble forward. And Stalks wasn't about to let him regain balance as he quickly pierced the bare back of the reachman with a few strikes from the spear. The man stumbled forward for another few steps before tumbling dead to the ground. Seeing as more of them came towards him, Stalks quickly ran uphill in order to get the high ground. The spear allowed a bit more reach than his adversaries, so he managed to keep them at bay, taking stabs at them and maybe landing a few hits before quickly retreating. It was very important to not get surrounded. 

More arrows came flying up and more Reachmen kept coming to send them at the werewolf who was hopping from branch to branch, until the beast finally caught one in the leg and fell to ground level on top of a man, who it quickly dispatched. The twins were standing back to back, dropping the poorly outfitted and equipped men like skeever, but eventually they started to try and retreat, as they were quickly being surrounded.

The werewolf too saw this and tried bull rushing its way through a line of the Forsworn. Lilith was already gone and nowhere to be found yet again.

Need to get out of here. Stalks desperately thought as he tried looking for a good escape route while also dealing with Forsworn trying to get to him. Still stabbing at them from his elevated position among the cliffs between his retreats uphill. Fleeing uphill would be hard as it got steeper and steeper the further up he went. Another Forsworn came running from the side and tried climbing up a steep cliff to flank him, but Stalks just gave the mane a kick in the face, poking his eyes out with the claws at the same time, so he fell to the ground screaming and holding his hands over his now bleeding eye sockets. At least the archers focused on the werewolf or he would probably have been a pincushion by now. As the hill got steeper, he grew more and more desperate. And he was bleeding more and more as the Forsworn started getting some hits at his legs.

A relief washed over Stalks as he pulled out the spear from the head of the last Forsworn that had come after him before they retreated from the blue clad warriors. But as the adrenaline passed he felt blood dripping from his maw. Another type of panic welled over him as he realized the blood was that of the werewolf and that he might have swallowed a few drops in the heat of combat. He frantically started spit on the ground as he reached for his water sack, filled his mouth with water before spitting it out together with the blood. Rinsing and repeating till half the sack was empty. He would still need a potion to be fully sure he wouldn't turn. But he could brew one later when he was in a safer place. Right now he started by making his way down the hill to the road where the Stormcloaks were standing. And hopefully they wouldn't pay him much attention. 

 

As that thought passed, one of the men who wore a bear head over his came over and tapped Stalks on the back. "You, lizard."

 

"I'm just a merce..." Stalks then suddenly saw something approach at high speed from the corner of his eye as he turned around. And before he could even turn his head to see what it was, it hit him and everything turned black.

 

****

 

"Here, lizzy lizzy lizzy... Wake up!"

 

Stalks felt a splash of water against his face which caused him to fully snap out of his half sleep. He looked up and the first thing he saw was a rugged nord, clean shaven and bald on the sides of the head with thick line of brown hair in the middle. The nord also a had a big ugly scar on the neck. Even though the nord was a terrifying sight, Stalks couldn't help but to strangely find the nord's appearance remind him of an ugly and deformed fish, that also had a scar a bit under it's mouth, he had once caught. At least it brought some a amusement to an otherwise grim situation. 

The nord held a bucket in one hand, with water dripping from it's rim but it was otherwise empty. Now looking around he could see he was in some kind primitive looking fur tent with a brazier in the middle, where Stalks and the nord was, but the fire wasn't enough to cast light too all the corners of the tent so the outer rims were left in the dark. The flap was closed so he had no vision of what was directly outside the tent but another flap in the roof was half open to let smoke from the fire out. Through it he saw that the sky was dark and a few stars and half a moon peeked forth behind the clouds. 

Stalks now turned his attention to himself and he felt he was sitting in some kind of simple wooden chair, hands bound behind his back and feet tied to the front legs of the chair. Feeling around the fingertips he felt he could scratch at the ropes with his finer claws but any attempt at escape would probably be hours away. But then another thought sprung to mind and he frantically started to look over his body, the parts that he could see from his bound position, to see if any hair had begun to grow anywhere. At least the moon wasn't full and so far he didn't see any hair on his body. Maybe he was just getting worked up for nothing. But the risk of turning into a feral werebeast still lingered in his mind.

 

The general was a lot more pale than he used to be, though not necessarily more than normal Nords, as he always had a tad more color in him from his years in Hammerfell. The Nord's face was blank, no emotion in it. As if it were stone. His stance was perfectly still and his eyes dead still. He didn't even blink the entire time he watched Stalks. Brund ran a hand through his hair and started to pace back and forth before he finally said, "What were you doing all the way out here, lizard? And what is your name?"

 

Looking up at the nord again Stalks just stared in silence for a second before snapping back to his senses. "I'm a bounty hunter. I'm hunting a bounty on a dunmer woman named Lilith. And my name is Stalks-Deep-Waters."

 

"Heh, yea I'll bet you do," Brund said, taking "Stalks Deep Waters" as a euphemism, since he wasn't accustomed to Argonians and their quite literal names. Suddenly, the Nord's boot came flying out into Stalk's gut, making the chair tip over. After dragging it close so he was back near the fire and paying no attention to his tail that he just dragged Stalks over, Brund stood over him and knelt. His expression wasn't angry still. Just blank. Still not blinking, he said, "Lies. The Companions told us about you. They said you were a spy for the Forsworn. Tired of us Nords back east, so you decide to unite, eh? Enemy of my enemy and all that shit?"

 

"What? Black Marsh is far from Skyrim. Why should we care about Nords? And it's the Companions that lie in that case. I'm a mercenary, or a bounty hunter depending on what jobs are available. And the Forsworn don't hire mercenaries as far as I know. I don't even think they have the gold for it given what armaments they run around with. And my name is Stalks-Deep-Waters. It's the Cyrodiilic term for the name I was given in Black Marsh, which is," Stalks then proceeded to say something which sounded like some kind of strange word mixed with a hiss and a couple of clicks.

 

Brund finally showed some emotion and laughed at what he thought was a stupid way to communicate. "You trying to play me, Stalks-Damp n' Deeps? You're aware we have Argonians from Morrowind and Black Marsh in Windhelm. And you most certainly aren't from here, coming in my land and calling our most honored warriors liars. It makes sense that the Argonians would seek their help, now that the Legion no longer can take Skyrim. They're desperate. Just like your pathetic attempt at this lie. You know what we- no... you know what I did to spies back in the legion?" Brund walked away for a bit, then came back with a skull from his pack. "It's an elf's skull. Altmer legionnaire. Spying against us back in Hammerfell. Swore again and again that he wasn't a spy and that the real spy must have set him up. I knew better." Brund left again to get a bottle of mead from the same pack, which he poured and drank from his Great War souvenir.

 

"I'm from Black Marsh. Any Argonians outside Black Marsh and not from my tribe are not my concern. I ventured out of the great swamps and my fishing village to find gold and adventure. I'm a mercenary working for whoever pays me the most. Right now my job is chase down Lilith. If you've gone through my stuff you've probably already found a note from the steward of Windhelm declaring said bounty. And the Companions want this bounty as well. They simply don't want competition."

 

Brund made a thoughtful noise to himself, then said, "It's true, you did have that note. A good cover-up. That's what it is. You did after all say that you work for who pays you the most. The Forsworn may not be able to afford your service, but the Thalmor could. They likely still have contacts in Skyrim. The Forsworn also could have offered you stolen coin from us, but they aren't likely smart enough to give you a bounty letter from Windhelm... But, lets say I give you the benefit of the doubt and this is all true. Tell me, why should I care? The Companions don't want you involved and you're suspicious. That's enough reason for me to kill you. Just to make sure. The men will understand. Or I'll make them understand. What do you say to that, Poon Stalker?"

 

Now he forgot about any werewolf blood that might be circulating in his body turned all his attention to the crazy and bloodthirsty Nord. "Why not hire me instead? I work for the highest bidder. And I'm a good tracker." Though he had no intentions of working for that man, all he wanted now was to buy time.

 

"Do not try and play me like a young maiden, lizard. I'm not so easy. We don't use mercs. We don't pay for outside assistance. We use loyal men willing to piss blood for us. For precisely the reason of possible spies. I hire you, you run with whatever information you may be carrying. Worse case scenario, I help out the Companions which is plenty fine by me. The men are riled up as of late. Still pissed off about their lost brothers and sisters in this dragged out scuffle. I think I'll make a spectacle out of you just before we head out in the morning, hehehe. Sleep tight, little one. Men!" Brund turned sharply and stepped out of the tent, then shortly after, a gang of Stormcloaks came in to apprehend Stalks again and take him to his holding place. To prevent struggle, the same Nord officer that Stalks met before came to put his lights out again with the same shield.

 

***

 

As Stalks woke up with a headache. Now he was sitting on the ground and tied to a pole. Now he was in another tent with the entrance open. He could see two guard standing at each side of it. And beyond the guards was the night sky and below it could several fur tents and the lights from fires between them be seen. 

He sighed and leaned his head back against the pole. "I never thought it would end like this." He thought loudly.

 

"Shut up, spy," said one of the guards from the entrance. "Or I'll remove that tail of yours and stuff it down your throat."

 

"I'm a bounty hunter. Not a spy. I'm on a job from the steward of Windhelm. You can ask him if you don''t believe me." Stalks shouted back.

 

"Convenient when we're all the way in the back ass of the Reach, fool," said the other man. 

 

"Perhaps I should hop skip my pale Nord ass up High Hrothgar to ask Kyne next if you're innocent on my way there?" The other man snickered.

 

"I didn't see it. Boss says you're a spy, so that's good enough for me. I'm not the general, here."

 

"Your boss is wrong then." An idea popped into Stalks head. "Can I at least get a final meal?"

 

"Yea, I got your final meal right here," the Nord to the left grabbed at his crotch and caused the other Nord to laugh once again.

 

"Come on, we can at least give him a final meal. He's gonna need it after the general gets his hands on him."

 

"Hah, true. Fine, we can maybe get somethin' for ya as I don't really buy the spy line, but I wouldn't count on it. No one wants to lose their rations and I'm certainly not giving you mine."

 

"I got a small delicacy from Black Marsh among my belongings. Squashed fish eyes. Poisonous to humans though. It's in a small leather pouch that feels like it's filled with a gooey liquid." Stalks said.

 

"Ech, I could have gone without knowing what it was." The guard walked off for a few minutes, and by the sound of it, to a chest behind the tent where Stalk's stuff probably was being held, then came back with the pouch. "Here," The Nord reluctantly opened the small leather sack and held his nose away from it, not wanting to smell whatever garbage was in there that he described. He put the concoction to Stalks' mouth and tipped it in quickly. "Should've asked for something with some real substance, but no skin off my sack. Now keep quiet."

 

Stalks drank as much as he could and even stuck his tongue out to lick the inside of the pouch as much as he could before the guard snatched the pouch away fro him. As the sap had many years ago back in Black Marsh, he felt an invigorating feel flow through his body, but not as potent as it had been back then. Maybe it was because the sap was old or maybe because he was far away from the trees. But it was potent enough for now. And as the time back when he had ingested the Hist sap last time, he felt a presence whispering to him. But the presence felt distant and whispers were vague. And the whispers did not consist of words but more of a pure understanding. And Stalks just sat there staring silently into the distance. 

The guard didn't seem to care and just went back to his post right outside the tent. With his increased strengt, Stalks pulled silently at the ropes which he could feel was straining to keep him. The claws would be needed and he quickly and silently cut deeply into the ropes that soon gave way. The guard didn't seem to have noticed a thing. In fact one of them was yawning. Now free from the ropes that had been tying him to the pole Stalks crawled under the wall of the back of the tent. And as expected the chest with his belongings were there. Silently Stalks fastened the bags and weapons to his sides and back.

 

Looking around Stalks could see that the camp lied in a valley like most others in The Reach. Half the camp lied against a steep mountain wall. And to his luck he was at the far end of just that half. He would have to through at least half the camp unless he wanted to take his chances at climbing what looked like a treacherous wall. Stalks instead reached for his pocket for an invisibility potion but stayed his hand. The presence was gnawing at him. After a second of doubt he instead let the potion be and stepped forth from behind the tent. But he vanished from sight all the same. 

The sap also made him feel light on his feet as he silently and quickly sneaked between the tents. There wasn't many out and the flames of the fires had turned to a glow among the charcoal. But there were still some soldiers sitting or patrolling around the camp. One of which turned his head towards Stalks as he made a misstep. But seeing no one there he just continued his patrol. Stalks made his way past a large tent with a Stormcloak banner hanging just beside the entrance. As he passed the half open entrance he peeked in for a quick look.

 

A low gruff voice from within the dark of the tent said, "This ******* thing, how am I supposed to go about getting any with this now? Guess I'll just leave my shirt on. Still, it'll be worth it. My time is coming. And it'll be his heart that gets ripped out next."

 

It was the same man that had interrogated Stalks. The man with the odd haircut, rough looks and big scar along his neck that still reminded Stalks about that deformed fish. But it was less amusing now after that that man had ordered his death. But now he could see another odd thing, the Nord had his shirt open and even though he was standing with his side towards Stalks, Stalks could still see what looked like a piece of metals stuck onto the man chest, about where the heart would be. 

The presence gnawed at him again, but this time it made him feel uneasy. So he quickly left the tent and continued through the camp. When he reached the other side of the camp he saw a road a few yards down a small hill away from the camp. He went down and followed the road north, as that was the direction Lilith had headed before the werewolf had attacked. The vigor the Hist sap had given him passed as he got further and further away from the Stormcloak camp and the presence he had felt left with it. Soon he found the familiar footsteps of the heavy armored twins. He would still have to make camp and brew himself a potion for the werewolf blood. But that would have to wait for later as for now he needed to get as far away from the Stormcloaks as possible before they realized he had escaped. 

 
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Siltdown Bay, western Morrowind
nighttime


The boots were bold, Dres Seloren had to give them that. Pickings were sparse in southern Morrowind these days, even though the lost was being rebuilt. Pirates knew better than to attack the Telvanni settlements on Azura's Coast and face the wizards' wrath. The richest take was on the northern coast, if you could avoid Redoran vessels.The two Argonian ships were attacking villages in the border lands between Blacklight and Skyrim, bold as you please. Seloren nearly lost them in the ash mists, but as night drew in, he followed the sight of burning huts.

It was too bad about the destruction. There was nothing Seloren could do about that. He had a hardy crew, but only one ship to the Argonians' two, and they could take to the water if need be. It didn't pain him too much to wait. Whatever booty he took would be his, and a man needed to live. Once his family had been nobles, proud inheritors of the slaving trade, which included sailing interests. When Baar Dau fell from the sky above Vivec City, they lost everything. An alliance with House Hlaalu- fiercely opposed by his own family but ultimately pushed through in House Dres- came just in time to curse them once House Redoran emerged on top. Seloren was reduced to piracy, though of a semi-official sort. Blacklight paid him for captured reavers. They would pay a hefty sum for Argonian raiders.

After nearly a week of raiding the lizards' ships were low in the water, heavy with their take, so they would be turning back to their swamps soon. It was time for him to strike.

His ship moved into Siltdown Bay while most of the Argonians were still off pillaging. Their lookouts were easily dispatched, then Seloren waited. When the lizards returned with arms full of booty just before dawn, a single Dunmer stood on the shore, arms crossed. "Welcome to Morrowind," Seloren said cheerfully, then whistled. At once the Argonians' smaller ship went up in flames while Dunmer battlemages streamed out of the forest lining the shore. They surrounded the raiders, killing several and capturing the others. It took an hour to offload the Argonian booty, then they fired the main ship as well, and headed back out to sea.

At the mouth of the bay, they were blocked by a row of long, low galleys and a clipper. The captain of the clipper hullooed them, but Seloren already knew who he was dealing with. With a sigh he ordered the dinghy lowered and rowed out to meet the Nord captain.

"I'm getting tired of this, Oarsinger," he complained as he was lifted onto the Nord ship. "Find your own reavers. The usual rate?"

Eilif Oarsinger shook his head. "Not this time. You and your ship are coming with us."

"Cut the nonsense. We've been over this. You and I make more money working together than trying to steal from each other, and I help keep Blacklight off your back. That was the deal."

"Now I want a different deal."

Seloren's grey face purpled two shades darker. "Go ahead and kill me, Nord. My crew can outrun your toy boats any day."

"Not loaded down with all that booty they won't," Eilif said, flashing a toothy smile.

Seloren cursed. It was the first law of the seas. There was always a bigger fish.

***

Office of Clan Shatter-Shield, Windhelm docks
morning


Rebec listened to the shouting for a while, then gave a sharp deck whistle to halt it.  When the raised voices died down to a grumble, she said, "The king has already approved my recommendations, so this is how it's going to be. You all know how this works. If you want to move up the officer ranks, then prove yourselves. And I don't mean prove who can whine the loudest. I can hear that for myself." She had announced the new officer promotions, including the bonuses that went along with the job. As expected, not everyone agreed with her appointments. The navy was no less rowdy than the army when it came to that.

A man stood. "And what if we don't accept your terms? What if we don't want to be part of this navy business any longer? You'll raise our taxes, then your ships start attacking ours?"

The admiral gave the man a withering look. "Once your auxiliary contract is up, you're free to take your ship and go. This is a professional navy, not some band of pirates. But if you change your mind down the road, don't come crawling back to me. We're a navy, but still Stormcloaks. Ulfric wants committed warriors, not soldiers of fortune." Rebec had once been that, they all knew, but that just meant she could spy a weak belly when she saw one.

"Fine. Then this is the last you'll see of me and the Blue Dawn." There were a few other nods. Their auxiliary roster was going to get lighter. Just as well, Rebec thought. The chaff always blows away.

Someone yelled out, "What about the orc?"

Rebec gestured to Mazoga, who stood up front along with the other new officers. "What about her? Thorn-Orc has long served aboard my ship and distinguished herself in the lifting of the imperial blockade. She deserves this honor as much as any Nord."  There were dissenting voices, but these were shouted down by the other crew from the Black Wisp, so Rebec didn't need to say another word. She did glance over at Sigrid, wondering if the vice admiral would say something. The older woman's expression remained stony.

Whistling for order again, Rebec said, "That's all for now. I expect to see all of you one month from today at Kyne's Watch for the naval exercises. No exceptions. Don't worry, we'll be done before the summer's shipping season gets under way."

Just then the doors of the office blew open and a crew of Nord sailors walked in, smelling of the salt of the open seas. They were led by a tall man with shaggy blonde hair and a beard braided and studded with rough-cut gems. It was the ostentatious way old Nords used to carry around their wealth.

"I've come to see Rebec Red-Eye," the man boomed, "and I hear this is where she may be found."

Rebec stepped forward and crossed her arms. "You found her. Though it's Rebec Red Snow, now. Who might you be?"

"I'm Eilif Oarsinger, Red wench, and I've come to offer you my ships. If you haven't heard of me, you soon will."

There was a buzz of chatter, then a representative from the East Empire Company stood up. "Admiral, these men are deserters and pirate scum! You'd do better to arrest them rather than to hire them."

Eilif turned and looked the man up and down. "Listen to the horker calf bleat.  EEC, are you?  Steal a man's wages, then call it desertion when he goes to find his bread elsewhere. Still, if not for us, the Blood Horkers would have bled you dry. Little enough that your imperial navy did about them."

That stirred enough of Rebec's memory that she realized who she was dealing with. "That's enough of that, both of you. By the ear hairs of Shor, like I needed another drunk with a leaky tub telling me my business."

"Our longboats are the finest on the seas, and you'll want to hear what I have to say," Eilif insisted. "Nor did I come here empty-handed." He gestured for Rebec to follow. Outside the shipping office, the admiral gaped as she saw a row of six large, low galleys and in the midst of them, a ship with Dunmer banners. Nord crewmen were offloading it of both cargo and of Dunmer and Argonians with their hands bound.

"What in Oblivion is this?"

Oarsinger stretched his arms out expansively. "My gift to the new king of Skyrim, and to his admiral! These Argonians were raiding not half a day's sail from Windhelm. The Dunmer captain there is an old friend, but you're welcome to him, too. He's not above sinking a Nord ship now and again, if he gets desperate."

Rebec was still staring, but finally turned to the Nord captain. "I guess we'd better go find some mead. For you, anyway."

Eilif grinned, flashing a row of gold teeth. "It's been a long time since an heir of Rebec the Red shared mead with a Son of Wulfharth. These are strange times we live in."

At Candlehearth Hall, Eilif drank mead and Rebec sucked miserably at a mug of apple juice. Meanwhile she got the man's story. Oarsinger and his men were the last remnants of the Sons of Wulfharth, who in the days of Ysgramor's Companions were bitter rivals of Rebec the Red. Eventually the Sons attached themselves to Tiber Septim's navy and became known as the Longboat Legions, while the Reds had remained independent. After the Oblivion Crisis, the imperials had stopped paying, so some of the Sons had come home to Skyrim. They they lived off raiding, too rowdy for the merchant seaman life.

"I've kept to pirates and reavers, I swear," Eilif told her. "You've sailed these waters a long time. Have you heard any different? Has your ship ever been attacked by one of our longboats?"

"It'd be your long-lost longboat if you had," Rebec replied. "Why now? Why do you want to join a navy again?"

"Because I want to come in from the cold. In a manner of speaking." The man grinned. "I heard about what you're doing here and we want in. We've caught some Dominion ships, you know. Out near Solstheim and probing the Sea of Ghosts from the Morrowind side. The way I hear it, you're fortifying in the west. But what if the Dominion comes around from the east this time, attacks Windhelm directly? I know those waters. And we know how to fight."

Rebec thought about the meeting earlier, and the auxiliaries they were losing. She could replace them with new ships, but all they had to man those were green crews. Much as she hated to admit it, the Sons of Wulfharth were exactly what she needed. "I'll talk to the king," she said finally. "I assume you've got some bounties, even though you swear you haven't touched a Nord soul." At the man's sheepish smile, she nodded. "Right. You'll have to pay those off. The booty from that Dunmer and Argonian raid ought to help. Or else cut your beard and sell those baubles."

"Bite your tongue, woman. So, you're going to let me keep the Dunmer's haul?"

"I suppose. After the usual customs fees and taxes. Now I have to figure out what to do with the captives."

"If I could make a suggestion..." At Rebec's nod, he went on, "Give the Dunmer back his ship, and turn the Argonians over to him. He'll be able to sell them back in Morrowind. They need slaves for their mines, and this batch of scum deserve no better fate. It'll score some points for you with Blacklight. You need Morrowind's help against the butter elves, don't you? And, if you would, tell him it was my idea. For old time's sake."

 

From there Rebec went down into the palace dungeon and looked over the jailor's report. Inside the prisoner area, she found Menel inscribing wards around the cell of the Dunmer ship captain. It was to prevent him from casting, the Bosmer explained.

Seloren was sitting on the edge of his bed, eyeing the pair with a bored expression. "If I wanted your slackjaw guards dead, I would summon the ghost of a blessed ancestor right behind them,  and your scratching and muttering would not save them, wood elf."

Rebec crossed her arms skeptically. "Is that so?"

"It is. But I would not have my guardian see the wretched condition to which his kinsman is reduced."

Menel rolled his eyes, muttering, "Dunmer. Always the chirpy outlook."

"You're not exactly making good account for yourself, dark elf," Rebec agreed. "He's the queen's second and I'm the admiral of Skyrim's fleet, so we could make sure you and whatever ghosts you carry around in your pocket stay down here a long time."

"Am I supposed to be impressed? You have no cause to hold me, not even for a day. I wasn't in Skyrim waters and I wasn't doing anything unlawful. On the contrary, I was protecting Morrowind villagers from those stinking scaleskins down there."  He gestured to where the Argonians were housed, a few cells down.

"Considering your ship is loaded down with Dunmer bricbrac, you weren't doing a very good job."

Dres waved a dismissive hand. "None of your affair, Nord. Now I suggest you release me, return those stolen goods and my ship, and I'll be gone from this skeever-ridden hole you call a capital."

Rebec gave a wry smile. "Well as it happens, that's just what Oarsinger wants me to do. Minus the stolen goods part."  That elicited a look of surprise.  "Oh, sure. According to him, you two are thick as thieves. And since that's what you both are, I'm not sure I should account his opinion any higher than yours."

"Oh yes? Admiral, was it? I've heard of you. Word is, you're not much better than a pirate yourself. And a murderer of innocent Dunmer sailors."

Her expression darkened. "Those were no murders. But I'm sure you know that. I can't imagine what you think to gain by provoking me."

"A moment's peace too much to ask? Do what you will, admiral. Just do it quickly."

Rebec exchanged a look with Menel, who shrugged. Turning back to Dres, she said, "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. Have to take this up with the king, so you get to enjoy our skeever hole a bit longer."

She moved off to talk to the Argonians, but they just hissed and made clicking noises, apparently not able to or willing to speak Tamrielic.

 

"What is this continent coming to," Rebec muttered as she walked back up the line. "Menel, make sure you ward down by the Argonians, too. Gods only know what devils they can conjure up. I'm going to find Baldur or the king, or both. Kyne's garters, I need a drink."

 

***

 

"Hey, watch where you're running or I'll crush you, milk drinker!"

 

"I'm only a milk drinker because your mother's got such a plentiful supply!"

 

"WHAT!? Get over here and say that again!"

 

"See ya!" Daric jumped over a table two Nord workers were carrying through the streets of Windhelm. He dared a glance behind him to see if the fellow Stormcloak he insulted was close to catching him, but even without the crowded streets and now the men with the table in his way, the Breton scout was too quick for him and was left to eat the snow in his wake. Daric came bursting through the palace doors then, not stopping to answer the Necro Nord guards that ordered him to halt for being alarmed at his running after tracking snow in past the doors. Sprinting as fast as he could, but breathing at a calm and steady pace, Daric hopped up on the bench at the dining room table and stole a drumleg off of Ysana's plate.

 

But before he could escape with the booty, Daric felt a fierce grip on his hair, which stopped him in his tracks and had him falling to his back from the momentum of his moving feet. When his eyes met the ceiling, he was greeted with the sight of Ysana catching the drumleg in her mouth. After taking a bite, she crossed her arms, then said while it was in her hand, "Sorry, my reflexes are something else when food is threatened, dear. Do me a favor and hand this to Baldur for me." Ysana returned to the table and handed Daric a little brown hat with what was supposed to be little bear ears at the top. Daric remembered the news Rebec gave at the table and didn't have to ask what it was for. Not that a little mini bear hat was hard to figure out the purpose of.

 

"Where is he? He was eating here last time I spoke to him. He told me to run off and return a letter to a messenger soldier to take to General Brund."

 

Ysana remembered what her daughter-in-law said about him to her. Enough for her not to like that man one single bit. "What does fat head want with my son?" The nickname given from the Admiral was not common knowledge and caused Daric to give her a worried expression. Brund was one man most people wouldn't dare insult, even behind his back, lest it get back to him and they pay the price. Not that he could do anything to family of Baldur.

 

Daric said, "He had a soldier in Windhelm waiting on his arrival, giving him an invite for Baldur to join him in the fighting, now that Brund has mostly worn out the Forsworn forces. Surprising, as Baldur had a deal with the Redguards to help finish them off, but it seems like that won't be necessary. They'll be going into hiding largely now, I imagine. Waiting to replenish their numbers, I imagine. Maybe try to hide in High Rock. Anyway, Baldur said no and that he was too busy here."

 

Ysana was surprised herself to hear that news after all she saw on her way to find her son. "Baldur's in the war room. Tell him he better come talk to me soon. I'm getting lonely. Bjol's offering to let me stay with him in his house while we're in the city." Daric saw a smirk creep up on her face, which caused him to chuckle after he got the implication.

 

Daric got off the floor then and ran off to the back room. "I will. See you later, Dibellan!"

 

"It's Ysana!"

 

Daric didn't have a chance to answer by the time she spoke, as he was already in the war room by the time she finished uttering her words. Upon entry, the startling sight of the permanently scarred back of the High General greeted him, causing him to gasp from surprise. There was from what he could tell at least twenty four or so slashes clearly visible to his eyes, but he couldn't really tell, and some of them seemed to overlap, while others were so faded, he could barely see them and he hadn't counted them. He guessed that the Thalmor must have healed him some for there to be some so faded while others remained pronounced. Probably to continue the onslaught without him fainting or dying. Some of them healed badly and looked swollen and soft. That was to say nothing about the crudely burned capital T darkened and contrasting strongly with the rest of his pale skin.

 

He was able to see all of this because Baldur was sitting atop the war table with his legs crossed, sitting perfectly still and wearing only his tan furred officer kilt, boots and gauntlets. Why that was the case had eluded Daric at the moment. "Uh, sir?"

 

"Oh, you're back. That was really quick," Baldur said with his eyes closed.

 

"So... what are you doing?" Daric asked.

 

"I'm meditating on the thu'um. Fire to be specific," Baldur said. Daric gave an understanding nod, having remembered him mentioning all of Ulfric's talk with the other two students of the thu'um as well. Daric walked around the table and leaned on the stone wall, bored, then noticed that one of Baldur's hands was tapping the table in some sort of rhythm or beat, and his head was slightly rocking.

 

"So you're just meditating?" he asked, confused by the sight.

 

"Well, sort of. I got a little bored by just thinking about fire, so I started practicing this thing I've been working on."

 

"This thing?"

 

"Yea, a bard thing. It's a new kind of way of telling poetry. I got the idea when I thought about the Ra Gada drum beats and when I tried putting words to it," said Baldur.

 

"Shouldn't you stick to focusing on the thu'um? That seems like it would be hindering your efforts, sir," said Daric.

 

Baldur said, "Ah, but cannot a fire spread its flames to burn two targets or even more, same as how I focus on two things? Does not fire burn quickly before getting bored and spreading, moving on to other things?"

 

"Haha, I think you're getting a little too liberal with the metaphors, if you don't mind me saying, sir," said Dalk, chuckling at Baldur's deflated look.

 

"Heh, I suppose so."

 

"So what is it?" Daric asked.

 

Baldur said, "I don't know, really. It's kinda strange, but I like it. It's not that different from what I'm used to doing, it's just the same thing, except no singing. Sort of...talking confidently. Like this. Repeat after me. Yes I'm a Breton, a fact I'm not sweatin, I'm quick on my feet and even quicker with a weapon, a very lethal lesson that a foe learned from me, I sent him falling down like a stone in the sea."

 

Daric forgot that he was supposed to repeat the words at first, but after giving an enthusiastic clap, Baldur urged him on. "Oh, right, uh...Yes I'm a Breton, a fact I'm not sweating..."

 

"Sweatin."

 

"What's that?" Daric asked.

 

"It's the same word, just made different so it will rhyme. Something I've been trying out. You like it?" asked Baldur. Daric smiled and shook his head, then tried again.

 

"This is fun, sir, but shouldn't you be focusing on the thu'um?" Daric asked again. Baldur hopped from the table and started walking around it with his eyes closed. His mind was going through past memories that he could recover, with him facing fire, like when facing Imperial battlemages and fending them off with shield walls as best they could. And even more memorable, the way the heat of Alduin's thu'um seemed even more alive than flame already did, angrily consuming the flesh of the dead Imperials that weighed down on him as protection. He could feel the heat above them growing more intense, as if the fire was trying to fight its way to him at the bidding of its master.

 

Finally, Baldur's eyes snapped open and he spun around to face Daric. "Give me a drum beat, Daric."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Just do it, boy." Daric obeyed eventually, looking at Baldur confusedly as he watched the general's head bob again and his foot tapping while Daric patted at the wooden table at the center of the room.

 

"Yes, that's the spirit. Make the beat, let me hear it. You said talk about fire? Well this room I'm 'bout to singe it. Because I have some rhymes containing words that I must say, so pay attention Breton and keep the beat up okay?

 

My name is the Unkindled, in battle I cannot be touched,

and the attempt will end with someone's skull getting crushed,

The Unkindled Kindler's coming at you with something hotter than me in the sheets,

My thu'um, my soldiers, my wife and her fleet,

So Thalmor best all beat feet, 'cause a Red-Snow's setting them on fire,

Like a burning falling tree, I topple Empires,

 

Coming from this windy city with twenty five score of Nords, we put the N in Necro so you know we'll settle this score....

 

I'll set my men upon you like an unending pyre,

And my children will continue slaying you long after I retire,

Incineration, a conflagration and this nation of men,

If war is Season Unending, your defeat will have no end,

Alduin learned you can't burn that which already burns,

As did the Legion's wolf pack and their leader in turn,

That's what happens when you play with what can bring the night day,

And if you screw with my kin, well I have something to say,

 

The last man who tried...lay in sand bloodied and died, scorched by the desert heat and was left there to fry,

Won't hesitate, resuscitate, I'll just take your life, and the same goes to those who try to put their hands on my wife,

 

The last one lay on the ground with my hands at his throat,

Lucky he didn't end up in a moat and afloat,

Incinerating and cremating, turning dust into dust,

Then I'll throw you in Kyne's wind to settle in Nirn's crust,

I couldn't get any hotter, or her skies would combust,

And womens' passion burns for me hotter than any virgin lust,

Kindling flames in more ways than the Thalmor have days,

I've got a blood dragon for each of you, before setting you ablaze,

 

My victory's assured, and its already been sung,

I kindle poon with my mouth, guess I'm already a Tongue,

Bard Baldur closing off, and now I'm ending this soliloquy,

And I'll be spitting hot fire, figuratively and literally."

 

"....Woah..." Was all Daric said by the time Baldur finally finished. After a few more seconds, he finally said, "I've never heard anything like that before. And it still doesn't have a name? You just came up with this... poetry yourself?"

 

"Heh, they don't call me a master bard for nothing. Now, that's enough of that. Back to meditating." Baldur climbed back up on his spot on the table, but this time he left room for Daric as well, even though Daric wasn't going to be learning to thu'um. Sitting next to him, Daric stood as still as Baldur did until the General ruffled his hair, causing both of them to laugh as Daric tried doing the same to him, which lead to a round of playful roughhousing, having forgotten all about meditating on the thu'um for the sake of doing something both of them had a lack of in each of their childhoods.

 

Rebec had come up the hallway towards their quarters just as Baldur's song began. The sound echoed loudly in the dark stone of the ancient palace. She paused, listening in from the hallway, and had to suppress laughter at the line about kindled poon.

 

Stepping around the doorway, she stood with hands on her hips, smirking and watching the dogpile of Nord. "Am I interrupting an intimate moment?" she said finally.

 

Baldur had Daric in a headlock and was yanking at his hair, but immediately stopped and pushed Daric away off the table at the joke. "For the love of Kyne, gods no." Daric just lay on the stone floor, groaning in pain from where his face landed. "Walk it off. Anyway, go on. You needed me for something?"

 

She sighed, tossed her ledgers onto the side table and flopped down on a chair, propping her feet up on the nightstand. "Is handing out promotions always so hard in the military? We need to get another war on. Everyone seems happier then."

 

Baldur yanked Daric up from his blue tunic and had him run off to send a message to his men that they'd all need to meet up with him outside the palace later. When looking back to Rebec, he seemed confused. "Uh, what's wrong with the promoting, are the sailors jealous or something? Those bunch, I thought they were more tough than that. They seem to be as whiny as the Imperials are."

 

"Competitive. Always been this way. Only thing's that changed is now I'm in charge instead of just one of the slobs. Anyway. Was that song about your new thu'um powers? Go on, shout on that loaf of bread and make me a toasted cheese sandwich."

 

"Hah, I wish I could. But I've got squat coming out of my mouth, except hot air. This is going to be quite the tedious affair," he said. "And you? How's your meditating going?"

 

"Meditating?" Rebec looked at him like he was crazy. "I read over Ulfric's notes, if that's what you mean. But like you said, nothing actually happens when I say the words."

 

"Don't you remember that you're supposed to be meditating on the words? For about two hours at least. Thinking about what they mean, what they are and how they are you. You gotta find a way to become close with your word."

 

She gave him a sidelong glance. "You know how goofy that sounds?"

 

Baldur jokingly matched the glance with his own. "Did it sound as goofy when Ulfric explained why he assigned us these shouts? It's the same thing. I can see the similarities in you right now, being difficult to accept new ideas, or in other words, changing the direction of your strong winds."

 

She tried to let out a burp to demonstrate, but nothing came out. Damn it. No mead.  "Well I don't know how to 'meditate.' What in Oblivion does that even mean."

 

It was Baldur's turn to give a genuine sidelong glance, but he made sure not to sound condescending. "Hmm, have you ever just sat to think about something? Just close your eyes and still your mind to try and figure something out? Or simply just to rest without sleeping. It's like that. Here, come up on the table and try." Baldur got back to his position to sit, this time positioning himself to face her when she sat too. Holding his hands out for her to take, he said, "Come on, then. Try it."

 

"Get up on the table?" She laughed, shaking her head. "How is that supposed to help you 'get close to your word?'"

 

Baldur smirked, then whispered while smiling, "It's a big secret, but I'll let you in on it. Rumor has it that all the best Tongues did silly things like sitting on tables and chanting stuff with their eyes closed to learn the Thu'um. Oh and there was something about being up on the table mimicking Kyne sitting up in the sky on high. So it makes us closer to her and makes learning the Thu'um easier. So I heard."

 

"Well it looks like you're about to take a dump. I guess that's a form of meditation." Rebec got up and nosed through the snack pile until she found a honey nut treat. "You go on and thu'um. Meanwhile let me tell you what else happened today."

 

Baldur chuckled, as he thought it appropriate since his comment was horker shit in the first place. Moving his crossed legs so that he could lay down on the table with his eyes closed instead, he said, "Can't really meditate while talking, so you go ahead and tell me."

 

"Oh. Well I can try to be quiet then." She munched on candy, tilting her head to peek under his kilt. When he looked over she averted her eyes quickly. "Alright, I'll tell you." She went on to describe meeting Eilif of the Sons of Wulfharth, and the Dunmer and Argonians he had in tow. "Now I need to decide whether to let them join the navy. They're a rough lot, but we sorely need experienced crews."

 

Baldur rolled to his side and said, "Well, I think your comment on Honmund to Brund pretty much sums up what you should do, in my opinion. I see no harm in letting him in, as long as he understands he can't buy respect with pirate booty. And that goes double for officer spots. With a gift like that, Ulfric's likely to keep an eye on him anyway, which I know personally goes quite a long way. As do you, for that matter."

 

"I wasn't planning on handing him the admiralty. Even if he thinks he deserves it. These Sons of Wulfharth apparently had a rivalry with the Reds. A little healthy competition is good, though. If he shows up at our exercises and his crews can fight, that's enough for me. So what's Daric up to? You going to bring him to Kyne's Watch?"

 

"I suppose so. He's just sitting around asking to go to the Reach otherwise. But he doesn't need to fight right now, not yet anyway. And he could use more training. He seems a little off though. Depressed, but I haven't inquired. Maybe he misses his ma. Speaking of, I haven't seen mine around today..."

 

"You all could help do the scouting for the road improvements Ulfric wants, towards the Reach. Don't want any Forsworn creeping up on our town."

 

"I suppose real combat's the best teacher, so that's not a bad idea. Even if he doesn't get to kill someone, seeing it will prepare him."

 

"Probably find some trolls and spiders, anyway." Rebec stood and came over to where he lay. Stroking his cheek, she went on, "As for your ma, she's probably off with Waverunner. Do you think there's anything to that?"

 

A look of sudden realization flashed across his face for a moment when he remembered he completely forgot about what Daric said to him about his ma. He was too busy meditating and honestly, close to sleeping for it to register. Baldur closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't know and I don't want to really. I won't get in the way, we have our own life and she needs hers. She deserves someone, whether it's just for temporary comfort, or something more. Waverunner's okay by me. Him being a sailor though means he'll be gone a lot, but maybe that's what she wants. Keeps it from getting too serious. He's getting up in years himself though. Maybe he'll finally retire."

 

"She deserves to be happy, if she can be," Rebec agreed. She glanced down at Baldur's relaxed face and smiled. If Ysana could be half so happy as she was, it would heal a lot of wounds.

 

The tensions of the morning receded at the sight of him, and from the warm scratchiness of his beard under her fingers. Maybe this "meditation" he talked about would be a good excuse to leave behind the worry that piled on her every day now, the weight of responsibility. Didn't she already have her own kind of meditation, when she put on war paint? The wings of Kyne. An enemy cannot strike the wind. Force, Push, Balance. An idea occurred to her, and Rebec glanced down at Baldur again, starting to tell him about it. Then she stopped herself. He wouldn't like it, especially with the baby now on the way.

 

Taking a different tack, she said, "I should go find Ulfric, before he hears about our guests in the dungeon from someone else."

 

Baldur leaned up and kissed at her hand. "I suppose I've laid around enough for the day. Want me to come with you? I have to mention some things I have planned for the men myself in Kyne's Watch while you're directing naval exercises."

 

"Come on then." Rebec grabbed his hand and pulled him up, right into a kiss. That lasted a while, until she forced herself to let him go.
 
***

 

Mournful whistles of the greyed city surrounded the King as he stood in front of the pathway to his palace as he watched the people under his rule being assaulted by snow go about their lives despite it. And despite him.

 

Arms crossed, he turned when he heard the groan of the palace doors behind him, seeing his admiral and general quickly approaching. "How goes things, you two? Training diligently I hope?"

 

"Sort of," Rebec answered vaguely. "It's a little hard to wrap my head around. Not like wielding an axe. There's news about the navy, Sire."

 

"Yes, I got wind of it from the port. What's the specifics? Anything I should be immediately concerned with?"

 

Rebec repeated the story of Eilif and the Sons of Wulfharth briefly and said, "I told him to pay off his bounties. If he does that, I'd like to take him on. We need the ships and especially the experienced crews. As for the Dunmer and Argonians... I'm inclined to do what he suggested. If this Seloren Dres were a reaver of any note, then I would know him. And you don't want those Argonians walking free in Skyrim. They're not like the imperialized ones. If you agree, I'll send the Dunmer back with a message to the government in Blacklight, thanking them for the Draugr Dunmers' service. They ought to hear Reval's name back there."

 

Ulfric only barely remembered the name of the mer because he remembered seeing Baldur train them for the maneuver "Reval Formation". But he didn't let on that he almost forgot who he was. "And all he wants is a spot in the navy? He won't come with grandiose thoughts of being made a Jarl, or future admiral like that Honmund character Hammer-Fang mentioned?"

 

"Oh, probably. Maybe not jarl, but he'll want to throw his weight around. Thinks very highly of himself, but that's most Nords for you, and I can handle him. We'll see how he plays with the others during our exercises at Kyne's Watch."

 

"Well, I'll keep my eye on him. I appreciate the help for certain, but nobody buys favor in the Stormcloaks. Navy or army. That sort of thing is reserved for south of the border. If this is simply a way to show his commitment however, then that is perfectly fine. Let him know that."

 

"Will do. I made the officer appointments we discussed. Some grumbling over favoritism, and about making an orc a lieutenant. You should know that the vice admiral isn't pleased about that either, probably because Mazoga being captain of the flagship puts her in the way of competition for the spot of admiral when I have to step aside."

 

Ulfric's eyes widened at that and he took a step closer to the two and said, "Hold on a second, I think I missed something here. You intend to make an Orc the next Captain for my flagship, Rebec? When was this exactly?"

 

Rebec's eyes flashed with anger. "Not just any orc. She's my first mate, been so for years. The Wisp might be your flagship, but it's my ship and my crew. Maybe you don't know, but to perform the kind of maneuvers like we did during the naval war, that's not something that can be taught. It comes from knowing the man beside you on the rowing bench and knowing what the captain wants before she even calls out the order. That's what you get with my crew, and they follow Mazoga. I'll not have it any other way and neither will they."

 

You'll have it however way I say, or you'll end up missing a ship entirely, Admiral. I don't know what's gotten into you two as of late, whether you forgot who your king was while you were off in Hammerfell, but no one eats my food, in my palace, using my ship and tells me what they will and will not do! If this was any other ship, it wouldn't be an issue, but this is the ship of the Stormcloak navy. How's it going to look when our best ship is being captained not by a Nord, but by an Orc?"

 

Baldur stepped forward and said, "With all do respect, Ulfric, that ship is not yours to command. That ship rightfully belongs to my wife. Do not forget that she gave her ship to your service freely and willingly, with no intention of anything in return. And it was destroyed during the war, leaving Rebec without her only means of making a decent living. If an Orc captaining her ship is that big an issue, then I think you should look at making another ship. That is only fair."

 

Rebec's color was up, and so was her ire, but she took a breath. "I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn, Sire, but my ship wasn't just my livelihood. My sweat and blood was in those timbers, literally. And Mazoga's, too. My crew didn't have to follow me into this war, and some didn't, but the ones who stayed proved their worth. You don't want another captain at that helm. Take a look at those imperial ships on the bottom of the Sea of Ghosts if you want to see what happens when captains get their place because of politics. Is that what you want for the flagship?"

 

Ulfric narrowed his eyes and said, "That's enough. We'll continue his discussion later. Any more and I'll lose my patience with the both of you. One thing I do know is that when it comes to promoting someone to High Admiral, that's solely my decision. That person will be the current Vice Admiral, no matter who is captaining the Black Wisp. I assigned her that rank for a reason and that's the way it will go. Now, was there anything else?"

 

She had a lot more to say, but even she knew when to shut up occasionally. "Nothing from me. Baldur, you wanted to discuss something about training?"

 

Baldur said, "Yes, I've got ideas for recruiting new Grim Ones. Rebec mentioned before that we should be looking into getting some more, but that they should also get used to ships and water in case they're called to serve there like with Hammerfell. I agree, but I also see this as an opportunity to make the Grim Ones better. So I'll be designing a series of tests in the form of long periods of daily training. The final week will be something I'm calling "Week of Oblivion", or "Orkeywihk". That's Orkey's Week. I'm calling it the Grim Trials.

 

Thing is, what I'm planning will likely replace a large amount of the soldiers already serving as Grim Ones. But the end result will be a force that will be talked about long after we are dead. Falgrum and I will be setting the test requirements ourselves by going through them first. Could be dangerous. Some of the men and women, if there are any that come to try may die."

 

Ulfric said, "That's going to upset a lot of your men, you know. And this sounds like a big undertaking."

 

"It is and it will, but this is the military, and the Grim Ones are called such for a reason. This isn't a club or a political party. Either you're strong enough, or you aren't," said Baldur.

 

Rebec's brow knit, as she knew Baldur wouldn't hold himself back from this dangerous training. Still, she couldn't object. "Kyne's Watch will be perfect for this. Rough living and no distractions."

 

"Right. Well, you better not get yourself killed over this, Baldur. Last thing I need is to lose any of my leaders in a training exercise. That goes double for these naval exercises, since that would also cost money. And of course with you two gone, there'd be no one around to keep my blood running hot to stay warm in this cold."

 

At that Rebec had to grin. "You've got a wife who can do that now, Your Majesty." Her grin turned into a little smirk.

 

Ulfric wasn't smiling after he told his joke, so he gave them no signs of his discomfort by way of a sinking smile. Though he didn't need to, as Baldur's knowing look with Rebec said that they could tell things weren't yet in the up and up. "Right. If that's all, then I have matters to attend to," said Ulfric.

 

The admiral assumed Ulfric was just in a foul mood, so it was better to leave him to the winds. As they turned to enter the palace, she glanced up at the sky. The snow blew in her face, with no sign of letting up. Smiling, she turned to follow Baldur.

 

(to be continued)

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(continued)

 

 

***

Baldur hadn't seen the queen all day, so he assumed he was either helping Sophie with her studies, or going over the Dwemer stuff Mazoga and Menel found again. After a solid knock, Baldur said, "Veleda, are you busy?"

 

"It's open," Veleda said from inside. She was at her desk, and across from her sat a Dunmer woman in mage robes. Addressing her, the queen said, "Dravynea, thank you for your offer. I'll have to talk to the king about it. If you'll excuse me..."

 

The Dunmer woman nodded and left, giving Baldur an expressionless glance. Veleda watched after her, then said, "High General. You've come about our 'informer,' I take it. I've been going over the handwriting samples you gave me. I had Wuunferth take a look at them as well. We both arrived at the same name, by scrying and simple observation." The queen handed Baldur several sheets of paper: The scrawled note that had been shoved under her door, accusing several Dunmer of spying; the signatures he had taken from Grim Ones for comparison; and a signed note from Wuunferth naming Aki Thunderblade as the likely culprit. Veleda had co-signed this last note and added the royal seal.

 

"It's not a formal accusation," she explained. "We should try to get him to confess. What did you have in mind for consequences?"

 

"What do I have in mind? Ever since you told me that one of my men could be behind this, I had a mind to shove my big Nord boot up the culprit's ass. I still may, if he tries anything, but officially I'm kicking him out of the Grim Ones," Baldur said.

 

Veleda frowned. "I suppose it can't be helped. Discipline is a slippery beast. Is this just prejudice against the Dunmer, do you think? How is morale generally? I should think your men would be glad of a pause between fighting."

 

Baldur took a seat and sighed before saying, "These men aren't like the other Stormcloaks. You know how Brund is. He's not the only one that acts that way. Sometimes men just need conflict. They're restless and in a hurry to start fighting again. They'll get the chance sooner than they think, though it won't be the Thalmor; it'll be themselves. That's the trouble though with having an elite force like this under your command. A lot of them don't have families to go back to so they have nothing to lose, but also nothing to go back to during times of peace. My brother used to be like that as well."

 

"Brother? I wasn't aware you had siblings."

 

"Boldir Iron-Brow. Our bond is of steel, not blood. Unless you count the blood we spilled that is. He was the one that made sure the Pale Pass was closed off while I was captured, along with Jodun Hunding. If he was still in the military, I'd have made him a commander."

 

"Ah, I remember that name from your dispatches. When do I get to meet him?"

 

"I have no idea, really. Haven't gotten a letter from him in a while. I'll try to write him maybe when the town is more established, so we can see about him moving his family with us there. Though there's also always the next Feast of the Dead. Next time, I plan on being the skald that gets to recite the names. And this time I'm putting the whole thing to song." Baldur smiled as he said this, clearly liking the idea of the challenge.

 

Smiling, Veleda said, "Sofie tells me that skalds were ranked second only to the Tongue masters in the First Empire. She's quite the reader. Maybe she'll become a historian. We could use more of those. The trash that passes for history in the empire hasn't been worth its paper in years."

 

"Very true, but I made myself read them anyway. It gives you a cultural context into how they view their subjects. It partly contributed to why I rebelled in the first place. So you see, there's still something to salvage from garbage historical literature in the end," said Baldur. "How is Sofie? And...if you don't mind me asking, how are you?"

 

"We're fine," Veleda answered, guardedly. "We're... making our way forward. I was never very good at family to begin with, and this family has a lot of complications." She wavered, then brightened and said, "But you and the High Admiral are well on your way. Excited about the prospect of fatherhood?"

 

Baldur smiled deeply at first, but it receded as he spoke, "I'll be honest, I'm terrified. I used to worry that I wasn't up for it, but I know better now. Still, Rebec and I, we have a lot of baggage from our past. A lot of which will come up again as time progresses. And then with the war coming only the gods really know when..." Baldur smiled again however as he went on. "But, despite all that, we'll be together through the storm for better or worse. A real family now, and a child between us. I wouldn't have it any other way."

 

You both will have my support. The king's, too. He and Galmar gave you a hard time about it, but we are having to do so much with so little. The pressure is intense and no one feels it more than Ulfric does."

 

"Hmph, I can tell. Ulfric hasn't been Ulfric lately, but I don't blame him. It's not easy being king. You have our support as well. With Sophia I mean, and any future rascals. Takes a village, or in this case a court. Not trying to stress you, I know talking about that is uncomfortable. But we're all different from your average court. We're like a family ourselves, here. You see that now, right?"

 

Veleda smiled. "I know. I was a Stormcloak first before I was a... a Stormcloak." She laughed, then sobered. "You've known Ulfric a long time. Do you have any advice for me? About how to help him shoulder these burdens?"

 

Baldur said, "Heh, I suppose. First and foremost, don't go easy on him. Even when he seems stressed and tired, or like he's about to go bear on you, you tell him what you think he needs to hear. Not what's comforting, mind you, but what he needs to know. He may seem mad, but when he's like that, he's just blowing off steam. He appreciates it when people argue and debate with him and it makes his job easier when all the decision making isn't solely on him. He just won't admit it because he's supposed to be the great Ulfric Stormcloak. He's actually at his best when he goes from mellow to animated like that. When he's quiet or seems inwardly reflective, that's when he's too stressed. In that case, just make him talk, even if he pushes you away. He's not that different from my wife in that regard. All he really wants is your insight without necessarily having to ask for it."

 

"Hm." Veleda considered this, and the fact that Ulfric and she talked so little, she hardly knew what his moods were like. Now Sofie was a buffer, but that was because it was easier to talk to her than to each other. Nodding, she said, "Thank you, Baldur. I hope you'll come to me if think of anything else. Now I guess we'd better go put this unpleasant business behind us."

 

Baldur stood then and lead her out of the room to the throne room where by now Daric had the other men waiting for Baldur to address them. The others were mumbling amongst themselves, wondering who was going to be sent away. Some of them wanted to be sent elsewhere with the other Grim Ones, as it was getting too peaceful there in the capital as royal guards. Others didn't want to lose the honor and prestige that came along with that.

 

As Baldur and the queen finally walked in front of them, the men all grew quiet and watched as he eyed each one of them, analyzing them for some hidden purpose. Falgrum stood on his side when he came out until Baldur directed him to stand with the others as well. He didn't say anything for a while until Falgrum finally said, "Um, what is this about, sirs?"

 

Baldur didn't look at him when he said, "This is about the replacements of course. I lied. No one's getting replaced. This is about a promotion. I'm promoting someone to commander status within the Grim Ones like my second, here. But I couldn't do that because I lacked some information. My queen?"

 

Veleda stepped forward. Glancing at Baldur, unsure of what his plans were, she began, "We received a most serious accusation of spying amongst our elite forces. An anonymous note which named Tavyn Malur, Maenit Asarban, and Fedril Alendu as agents of our enemies." The queen paused as muttering erupted in the ranks, and nodded to Baldur that he should continue. These were his men, after all.

 

"Considering that the Thalmor even now are a serious threat, we looked into all of them on their recent posts. Other fellow soldiers said they thought they were acting strange lately, but I thought that could have just been because they were elves. Turns out they were right." Baldur pulled out the purple magic cloth he had on his person in his pouch. "This is a magic device used by the Thalmor to communicate over large distances. Each was found with one and when we sent a message, each had an obvious Thalmor note returned. It seems we let our desire to assume the best of our mer brothers in arms get the best of us. But whoever sent the queen this note didn't. We have an idea of who sent the note..."

 

The grumbling in the room grew louder. Finally one of the men shouted, "Are you sayin they were spies?! And all along you were the one telling us to treat the Dunmer like brothers!"

 

"They ARE our brothers," another shouted. Standing, this man said, "High General, Maenit's a strange one but I know Fendil. I fought beside him. I could swear..."

 

"We didn't think the imperials would become Thalmor lovers, either," his neighbor said. There were nods of agreement.

 

Veleda watched the growing disarray and, having figured out Baldur's plan by now, followed along. "Brothers! The purpose of this meeting is not to pass judgment on the guilty. That is for the king to do, and him alone. Rather, we want to recognize the one who courageously stepped forward to notify me of this treachery."

 

Baldur kept his eyes moving, but he studied Aki's look from the corner of his eye. It was one of complete surprise and shock. Moreso than the rest.

 

"Now, as I said, I need the person who sent the queen the note to stand out. I'll be starting something called the Grim Trials and I'll need some commanders to help me test it after I've written the curriculum in full. After they help me with that, the rest of you will be the first to go through these trials. So, as I said, we think we know who wrote the note after comparing the handwriting. Aki Thunderblade?"

 

Aki's green eyes again widened between his rough long brown hair when his name was mentioned. He quickly composed himself and stood forward after moving his half braided hair from his face. Clearing his throat, he said, "Aye, it was I. I sniffed the grey skins out," then he saluted Baldur and Veleda both by putting his fist to his chest and bowing his head.

 

Veleda eyed the man coolly. "And you brought this to me instead of to your commanders because..."

 

The man looked confused, clearly expecting praise. "Uh, I thought you'd rea-, I mean I figured you could have a better chance finding the truth since you were a mage."

 

"I see." Or that I'm more naive than your commanders. "Do you know, Aki Thunderblade, that in Atmora the penalty for false witness against comrades was to be beaten to death by the hafts of their axes? You all will have to forgive us a little ruse, but we needed the truth from his own mouth. Now tell me this: You would have seen these three Dunmer men beheaded. Why?"

 

Aki stood stunned and didn't answer at first, looking back to Baldur of all people for assistance. They fought together after all, and Veleda was a newcomer, even if she was the queen. But Baldur said nothing. Nor did the men behind him who were stunned as well at the moment. "I- didn't think it'd go that far. I just thought that you'd throw 'em out the Grim Ones like you threw out Brunwulf from the palace."

 

"And why did you wish them removed? What did they do to deserve that?"

 

Screw these damn questions already. What is this? You gonna have me beat to death or something?" Aki said, frustrated and embarrassed. "It's not like I'm the only one here with the problem. I just did what others were too cowardly to do themselves."

 

"And what was that, commit treason because of petty prejudices?" Baldur said angrily.

 

"Treason? How dare you accuse me of betraying my land!" Aki yelled back. "Over elves?"

 

Baldur said, "This isn't even about your bigotry. I'm not stupid, Aki. I know my men and how they feel about my attitude with elves. I hear the whispers, see the glares. I don't care. What I do care about is that you let this become an issue by lying and purposefully misleading your queen! What if there were actual spies here? You could have distracted us from real enemies, you stupid fool."

 

A female soldier stood up. "High General. I'm not saying what Aki did was right, but you hear the talk around Windhelm. These Dunmer are planning something. If it comes to blows, are the Draugr Dunmer going to defend us or their kinsmen?"

 

"They'll serve Skyrim just like any of you. Or have you forgotten how quickly the others threw their lives away in the Pass to cover the rest of our retreat? Before you start questioning other soldiers' loyalty, remember that it was a Nord that mislead the Queen, not a Mer."

 

Aki knitted his brow and said, "It was also mer that tried to take our land from us!"

 

"Not these Mer!" Veleda's tone turned earnest, almost pleading. "Brothers. This is Thalmor work, alright, but not the kind Aki means. It's the Thalmor way, sneaking notes under doors, whispering in corners. How do we want the Dunmer to trust us if they see Nords betraying them for no reason? Spying is serious, and the man is right that we've uncovered spies in our court before. None of you should fear to bring us suspicions, but do so for good cause only, not rumors. And do so to my face. Now I'll leave you, because it's for your commander to decide what's to become of the guilty party. Good day." The queen nodded to Baldur and left, returning to her chambers.

 

"Right, well I'm not dragging this out any longer. Aki Thunderblade, strip off your armor," Baldur ordered.

 

"What?! You're kicking me out of the Grim Ones? You can't do that, I was here longer than you were! I was here since we were first established! I even fought with Boldir Iron-Brow!" Aki said.

 

"I'm not kicking you out of the Grim Ones, I'm kicking you out of the Stormcloaks with a dishonorable discharge. I need to make an example out of you so the next time someone accuses someone of being a spy, they'll be damn sure of themselves. Boldir would have agreed," said Baldur. "I won't explain myself further, do as I said."

 

"I can't believe this, in the palace of Ysgramor himself, I'm being kicked out in favor of some damn elves! I bled for this army, I almost died for it!" Aki yelled.

 

"And so did those elves," said Falgrum from behind as he grabbed his hilt. "Do as he says, or we'll strip you ourselves. You don't want that, believe me." A few of the men grumbled, but most of them nodded in agreement. Even if they agreed with Aki's distrust of the Dunmer, what he did was stupid and foolish to most present.

 

"You've embarrassed us all, Aki. We are supposed to be the shining example of Skyrim's best. We thank you for your service to your King and your land, but your services are no longer wanted," Baldur said again.

 

Aki heard the deep disappointment in his voice and saw the looks of scorn from his brothers and sisters, then reluctantly and with great sorrow stripped in front of the others down to his raggy underclothes. He walked away in silence at first, then he turned around and said, "I was a war orphan from the Great War. No one ever adopted me. I never got married. Never had kids of my own. I have no family but this army. I'll earn your trust again somehow and prove to you I'm worthy of the Stormcloaks at least, if not the Grim Ones anymore. I swear it, sir. I'm sorry, to all of you."

 

Baldur didn't acknowledge Aki or his promise as he walked past him to go to his chambers. "Back to your posts everyone. Dismissed!"

 

***
Rebec stood on the crest of a cliff above the mouth of Yorgrim Bay, looking out toward the Sea of Ghosts. Or rather, where it should be, since the snowstorm that had been assailing the city had picked up to a fever pitch and she couldn't see past the length of her arm. Winds shrieked and buffeted around her. Mazoga huddled down the slope, watching her back. They had used the opportunity of Baldur being busy with the Grim Ones to slip out for a walk north.

Fus. Rebec tried to hear the word in her soul, like Ulfric had said to. The howl of the wind just tore the word away. She repeated it, then shouted it. Nothing happened. Just a word. She kept saying it, trying to hear what the Tongues heard in it. She thought the storm would give her inspiration. The thu'um was supposed to be the breath of Kyne, after all, and Kyne was in the storm.

“Rebec, look out!â€

The words almost didn’t carry in the middle of the storm, but Rebec sensed something anyway. Her axe had just leapt into her hand when icy jaws clamped down, biting through the leather and sinking into her flesh.

She started to turn, and a gust of wind buffeted her, knocking her off balance. The ice wraith came with her, digging its teeth into her flesh. Rebec cried out and her axe clattered away as numbness and pain spread from the hand up her arm. She heard the hissing of another wraith, the sound of Mazoga’s harsh war cry. Ignoring the pain, Rebec rolled, trying to force the wraith loose. Thudding against the side of a rock, she stood and with a cry of rage smashed her hand against the frozen cliff. The blow drove the wraith’s teeth deeper into her flesh, but also sent shards of it flying. Two more and by then the creature had had enough. It writhed, trying to free itself.

When it came loose, leaving teeth behind in Rebec’s hand, the wraith turned and quickly slithered off into the storm. Rebec propped herself against the rock, trying to master the pain that was shooting up her arm. She paused only a moment, then started forward to help Mazoga. Just then she heard the telltale shriek and saw the wraith coming back for her.

Without thinking, Rebec yelled FUS. The creature didn’t go flying as she had seen imperials fly in front of Ulfric’s words of power, but it did pause, tail whipping. It came on again, but by then Rebec’s other axe was in her hand and her fury was high. The fight was over in a few seconds. In the swirl of snow and wind, she found Mazoga, clasping her arm and shouting above the storm, “Are you alright?â€

At the orc’s nod, Rebec looked back out at the sea. She was about to turn back when there was a shudder of movement beneath her feet. The snow began to cave with a rumble and the edge of the cliff disappeared in avalanche. Crying out and grabbing each other, the two women slid, kicking and clawing, towards the edge. Rebec reached out her axe in a wild arc and caught a crevice of rock. It held. Slowly, painfully, they made their way back to level ground.

Rebec lay back on the snow looking up into the storm, and then she knew. In the desert. The sandstorm, the wraiths, the harpies carrying Baldur away. Tava demands a sacrifice, the desert guide had said. The hawk in Baldur’s dream hadn’t been trying to save him. It was trying to take him away. Shor, the serpent, was reaching up to try to save him. The storm took Suri, it tried to steal Baldur, and it would have taken Rebec too if it could. Greedy. Daring her to die.

Faltering, buffeted by the wind, Rebec stood, the injured arm held limply against her side. Lifting her axe with the other hand, she brandished it and shouted into the storm. “You haven’t beaten me! Give it all you got, you hoary bitch!  I’M STILL HERE!  STILL HERE! I WON!† She laughed, the crazed sound torn out of her throat by the winds. “You push me and I’ll just push back!  Fus, ro, DAH!â€

They were still just words, not words of power, but Rebec knew what they were now. She knew where to go inside herself to find them.

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Skjari, Dales

Imperial palace

Afternoon

 

Skjari and Dales were in the royal quarters planning the wedding and the festival it would have. Though the festival was also planned with the Synod and College of Whispers as the wedding was to be held at the opening day of the mage tournament. Dales managed most of the wedding preparations while Skjari handled how the festival and mage tournament would work in correlation with the wedding. 

 

"No!" Was heard screaming, echoing through the nearby corridors of the palace. It was Lilly's voice and she sounded quite angry. 

 

Skjari looked at Dales for a moment. "Take a break and have a look?"

 

"Hmmmm Lilly seems pretty pissed-"

 

An interuption came, Raine shouting "Why?!".

Dales got out of her chair, "Maybe we should."

 

"Great. Wonder what they're up to." Skjari said as he also got up from the chair. 

 

When the two people finally got to the source of the shouting, a strange sight awaited them. Lilly and Raine were inches apart, red faced and snarling. Dales hand maiden, Helen Quentas was in between them, trying her best. Claudia, one of Dales maids was tugging at Lilly, while Kongami had her arms wrapped around Raine restraining her, noticing the pair Helen squealed,

"Thank...the...divine. Lord Snow Strider, your majesty."

 

"What's happening here?" Skjari asked, sounding a bit curious but mostly indifferent.

 

Helen's voice was drowned out by a cry of rage from Lilly, "I'm the precious mistress not you."

 

At that Dales face twisted into a smile, "Its alright ladies. My body belongs to each of you"

Raine said sharply, "Were not talking about you Dales."

 

Skjari rolled his eyes for a second. Shouldn't I be emperor and Dales be gone before they start fighting? "Is that what you're fighting over?"

 

Helen, who was struggling to separate the two of them said, "Calm down Lilly."

 

Kongami whose arms were falling under the strain yelled, "Just let me tie up the both of them and apply some punishment, gods damn it."

 

Skjari stepped forward and put a hand on the shoulder of both Lilly and Raine, starting to channel a calm spell. "What triggered this 'argument'? I haven't seen you fight before."

 

Surprisingly, it had only minor success, as Lilly still sounded pissed, "This bitch was bragging to Claudia and Kongmi that she was your number one mistress. BULLSHIT."

 

Skjari first wanted to ask if it really was that important. But seeing as Lilly needed to be restrained it apparently mattered to her. Maybe he had played the guise of affection a bit too good. "Calm down. Both of you. This isn't a competition."

 

"Can I tie them up, boss?" That's how Kongami referred to Dales.

 

The young empress shook her head, "That would make them more angry."

 

Skjari let go off the women and instead conjured up a thin ice wall between the two. It was crystal clear so both could see each other through it. "Release them."

Kongami and Claudia jumped back, while Helen dove to the side, landing on the ground with a thud. Raine and Lilly glared at each other.

"So, can you stop trying to pluck each other's eyes out for a second?"

 

Raine put her hands up, "I have no problem sharing. As shown constantly with both you and Dales. But she started barking at me, and started this."

 

Skjari looked at Lilly. "You're not any less precious to me because of Raine."

 

Claudia nodded her head, "And besides you two were as thick as thieves a week ago. Infact weren't you sharing the same-" She glanced at Helen, suddenly become quiet, until continuing with "You gals were snuggle buddies."

 

Lilly looked downcast, "I know..."

 

Dales yawned, "Look Lilly. Its not like Rainy is trying to steal Lord Snow-Strider away from you."

 

"Will you stop fighting? Clawing at each other wont make things any better." Skjari said.

 

"Your acting like schoolgirls. Helen over here is being more mature, and she literally is a schoolgirl." Said Kongami.

 

"Can any of you at least say something?" Skjari said, slightly impatient.

 

Lilly said, biting her lips, "I suppose I overreacted."

 

Skjari took a step closer and put his arm around Lilly. "You did." Then leaned in and whispered into her ear. "And you can bring Raine for tonight's endeavor if you want. Reconcile more properly." He didn't actually expect Lilly would accept but it was at least worth a try. 

 

"I think that would be best..."

 

Skjari got a little surprised but didn't show it. He waved his hand and the ice wall dissipated. "So, will you stop fighting and, if not be friends again, at least tolerate each other?" 

 

Lilly ran up and hugged Raine "I'm so sorry Raine. Shouldn't have called you whore..."

 

Raine gently returned it, "I'm sorry too."

 

"I think that settles it." Skjari took stepped back to his place besides Dales and leaned discretely in and whispered in her ear, this time under a muffle spell. "I hope you don't mind the show tonight. You can join in if you want."

 

"I'd rather not. Very busy with work. Might invite Kongami for some fun later though." She looked around, helping Helen from the floor, she patted her on the head, "You alright?"

 

Helen nodded shyly, "Yes your majesty."

 

"I can understand. And I think we should take a proper break. Get some refreshment." He turned to Koni. "Koni, can you bring me something cold to drink? Nothing too alcoholic."

 

"Sure thing my lord." Kongami left the room,

Raine, leaving Lilly's embrace asked, "Lord Snowstrider, why don't you join us at the lounge? Dales-" When Raine turned around to look at Dales she wasn't there. The young monarch must have left the room already.

 

"Probably back to the office. Anyway, shall we?" He gestured towards the door.

 

Later in the lounge Skjari sat in a great chair drinking a delicious cocktail. Though he had to use ice magic to keep it cool. The ladies sat in smaller chairs around the nearby table. Skjari only made a few minor attempts at joining in their conversations, but mostly just sat and listened in to see if he could hear anything interesting. 

A shy voice entered his ear, "Excuse me Lord Snowstrider."

 

Skjari looked to his side and found Helen standing there, quite close too, looking at him with wide open eyes. "Yes?"

 

"Ummmmmm...." She began to stutter, her eyes looking even bigger with her silver spectacles, "You're Karshe's master right?"

 

"Yeah." He said a little slowly and hesitantly. Then he cast a spell that would would not silence but blur their speech to the other women. "How so?"

 

"Just wanted to say your really cool for doing that...Lilly tried enchanting a huming bird once. It...wasn't pretty." She looked at him nervously, "Mind..If I sit beside you?"

 

"I don't."

Helen took a seat beside the mage, sipping her own drink.

"So you like Karsh?" He asked.

 

"Yeah he's really funny. Though he's kinda prying..."

 

"I think he inquisitive by nature. He's been asking questions since I taught him how to speak." Skjari paused for a second. "Say, how would you feel about caring for him when he's in the city?"

 

"Oh I would love that." She said smiling, "I adore taking care of nature. Would he mind?"

 

"Just keep him fed and give him a soft place to sleep. He likes roasted, marinated, sliced meat. Don't give him seeds. As long as you do all of this, he wont mind at all. And I would prefer if you don't mention him to other people. Not everyone takes kindly to ravens."

 

She chuckled, "Like Lilly."

 

"Yeah. Like Lilly."

 

"Why was she so mean and angry at Raine?" The girl asked, "Raine is always so kind."'

 

"Probably didn't like that Raine claimed that I liked her more."

 

"Do you like Raine more?"

 

"Maybe, maybe not."

 

"Oh." Her eyes opened with revelation, and she blushed "Am I asking too many personal questions?"

 

"A little."

 

"Do you...want...me..to leave you?" She said preparing to get out of her chair.

 

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to. Though I might now answer some of your questions."

 

"How did you meet her majesty?"

 

"I was given the job to travel to Skyrim and be her magic teacher."

 

"Was she hard to train?"

 

"She was - is one of my more easy going students. I rarely have to repeat myself."

 

"So she was always skilled in magic?" She asked, genuinely curious.

 

"You'll have to ask her previous teacher for that."

 

She took a little sip of her drink before asking, "How skilled are you exactly, Lord Snow-Strider. The strongest I've seen was Miss Homulilly and Lilly's Mother, Argeus."

 

"I'm quite good. Though I wont bore you with details."

 

"Your really cool..." She said, starring at him, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

 

"I'm getting married to Dales."

 

Her eyes opened up even further, "You're....getting married to her majesty?" Her hands started to quake, and her body shook.

 

"Haven't you payed attention to news recently?"

 

"I've been busy with school and work I haven't had a chance...."

 

"You can always ask the other maids for the latest news when at work."

 

"Yeah...your...right..." She yawned, taking another sip from her drink and said rather hesitantly, "Whats...Dales like?"

 

"A bit stiff these days."

 

"Hmmmm? She's calm, collected, and cool in most situation. She wasn't always like that?"

 

"She was quite cheerful back in Skyrim. To the point of it being annoying."

 

"Her majesty? Cheerful? She was happy all the time?"

 

"Yes. Then a Thalmor assassin killed her lover."

 

"Dales lost...her lover?"

 

"Yes. Though I shouldn't talk too much about it. And neither should you. Don't want to reopen old wounds."

 

"Yes...that would be best." The teenager said, drinking her cocktail and blushing.

 

Skjari didn't say anything and neither did Helen for a while. When the glass was empty he put it down on the nearby table, got up from the chair and turned to Helen for a second. "I should get abck to work. And Karsh will come over later today. Be sure to have lots of food ready or be prepared to hear him nagging."

 

"I will." The girl said, taking out a leather bound tome, "I'm just going to finish this chapter then I'll be off."

 

Skjari let her read her book in peace as he left the lounge. And as he walked through the corridors of the palace he thought back on the strange place and situation he had gotten himself into the last months. Some of it almost felt unreal. But he left those thoughts behind as he entered the study where he found Dales still working on the wedding preparations. "So how's it going?" He asked.

 

"Fine. I think it should be simple. Nothing too fancy."

 

"Afraid of going over budget? Just make sure the silverware is clean and get a few banners and my magic can stand for the fancy stuff."

 

"We don't want to bankrupt the Empire. Somthing simple, clean, and short will be the best. It would be unwise to extend this sham."

 

"You do know this wedding will be in correlation with the mage tournament, which will go on for a few weeks?"

 

"Oh great. You are your silly festival." Dales reached into her pocket, taking out a cigarette, snapping her fingers causing a bright spark of fire to light the Tobacco filled product, "I'm afraid I've picked up the last two spymaster's habits." 

 

"And now you're going to drop it. No smoking. That's an order. And the wedding will just be at the opening day of the tournament. The rest will mostly go like the wedding hadn't even occurred. We've still had to visit some of the games either way."

 

"What's wrong with smoking? It relaxes the body and the mind."

 

"Find something else then. As empress you should not go around and smell like smoke. Nor alcohol."

 

"I'm not a drunkard!!!" She said red faced. Turning around she incinerated the cigarette with her left hand . "By the way, instead of planning this sham of a wedding, I think we need to talk about Admiral Tacitus. You are aware of how unlikely it is he escaped that Dominion prison like he claims."

 

"Yes. I'll search his body and soul next time I speak with him. Just to make sure there isn't any magic implanted into him. However, if they're only playing mind tricks, it'll be trickier to detect."

 

"I was contemplating executing him myself on that very spot in my officer." She gave him a dark smile, "But since i'm practically a saint, my better nature won out. And I was worried about his Bosmer Companion. Instead, I think it's better we keep him on a tight leash. I ordered Lilly to have him constantly monitored, if the Dominion did do something to him, before he can act, there will be a dozen Oculatus arrows piercing his throat."

 

"Just have one agent watch over him closely. Make it someone who's experienced with the sea. Someone friendly. Have him portray a naval officer."

 

"Yeah and someone who can drink alot of whiskey." She drew her black steel knife, which she kept hidden on her body at all times, before expertly spinning and twirling it around in the air, "Any word on Miss Akney?"

 

"You'd be better off asking Lilly about any news on her. But she hasn't told me anything about her so I my guess is she's fled to either the Dominion or some far off corner of Tamriel."

 

"You know, that most likely wasn't Homunal? Her family and her were found murdered three weeks ago in there mansion. An impersonator. Which is odd, since apparently her family were huge dominion fanatics."

 

"And the Thalmor want to kill humans. No real big surprise there."

 

"You play with fire, you get burnt. Simple as that. Hmmmm, funny. We can't bring justice. 'Homunal' and the wolf still remain at large, and instead of hunting them, were busy planning a sham wedding."

 

"Everything in due time."

 

"Yeah...whatever..."

 

"Just have some patience."

 

"Patience hasn't gotten my anywhere."

 

"You need a long term plan as well." He said half jokingly and then went back to his normal tone. "Anyway, we still need to make sure the dinner is good. You got some good chefs?"

 

"Of course."

 

Then they continued to plan for and argue about the wedding for a few more hours before taking up the other duties they had as rulers.

Dales was still up at this dark hour of twilight. Sitting on her desk, she wrote on the parchment infront of her. Whenever she closed her eyes for a small break, she saw crimson. She couldn't.

"You should get some sleep." Her master said from behind her, sounding a bit sleepy.

 

"I don't need any."

 

"Then why are having trouble keeping your head up?"

 

"Just...a little tired." She looked to the window, "I couldn't sleep anyway if I wanted too."

 

She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Sleep."

In an instant, Dales eyes closed, and her body slumped into her chair. 

Skjari pulled out the chair, lifted Dales up from it and carried her in his arms out from the office and into the bedchamber. There lied her down on the couch. Fetched a pillow from the bed and a blanket from the cabinet. Put the pillow under her head and the blanket over her body. Then he undressed himself and went to the royal bed. Now that the wedding was announced he had to sleep there. But for now he just sat there without any clothes and waited.

 

Lilly and Raine arrived a few minutes later, from the secret passage way. Dressed in slim night gowns. "Greetings my lord." They both said at the same time, bowing.

 

"Hello ladies. Shall we get started with our reconciliation?" He said slyly while also subtly casting a muffle spell over Dales so no sound would get to her.

 

****

 

Dales awoke with a yawn, getting off the couch. Maybe I should visit Koni. She always say's S and M is a good stress relief. Nah, it's way too late. She undressed and decided to head to her bed. Heading there, she glanced at it. With her drowsy eyes she saw in it her master sleeping at one side of the bed, his head sticking up from under the cover and his body was incredibly big and bulky. Dales let out a sigh, going around the bed to the other side, where she climbed into the bed. Odd, it felt like flesh, and was very warm. 

"Hello Dales." Dales heard Raine's sleepy voice mumble under the cover.

 

"Raine?!" Dales said, shocked. Before she could finish, someone grabbed her from the side, and brought her closer wrapping her arms around the young empress. She tried to get out of bed, but Raine grabbed her again and brought her closer, snuggling with her tightly.

 

"Your my teddy bear Dales, your not going anywhere." She said, half awake.

 

Dales just gave up. This lunkhead wont get off me. Can't throw her off either. Gods damn it I'm trapped in a prison of flesh!!!! Raine was then suddenly snoring, and was drooling all over Dales shoulder. She sounded like a gust of wind. Dales just stared into the ceiling, How the hell did I get kicks from this back in Skyrim, There was not much she could do. So much for getting sleep. An idea came to her, she pushed Raine closer to Lilly and to Lord Snow-Strider, broke the maids grasp of her, and rushed out of the bed, rolling as fast as she could onto the floor. She then headed back to the couch.

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