TheCzarsHussar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brund Hammer-Fang, Honmund Approaching Mistwatch Keep 4:30 pm "Weapons at the ready! You dunmer, get ready to burn down the gate! We're approaching the fort now. In twenty minutes, we'll attack. No one is to remain breathing inside. No one. No prisoners, no surrenders, none of them." The sky was rumbling in anticipation of the events that would soon transpire. "The Bull" and his army had come. He would soon let it be known that when they did, blood would be spilled. And it would be spilled a plenty. As his armies marched on, the imposing sounds of the Nordic boots marching on towards their target was further accentuated by the low grumble from the skies above and the sounds of the men banging on their blue painted shields donned with Windhelm's bear insignia. It would seem that Kyne was present as if to see her child in action herself. The bleak visage was made complete once the dark clouds from the other side of the fort made it's way towards the new general's forces to greet them, shrouding the land in a gray vesture of shadow as they covered the sun. Brund brought his entire force of one thousand five hundred men to take the fort, preferring to make sure that the job was done right. There was word of a growing force in these parts and he would be sure to stomp it out. Surrender was out of the question, although Brund wouldn't tell them that if they offered it. He would simply send them in. When the men finally made their approach, the war horns from the inside of the fort could be heard alerting all inside. Brund had his men ready and in position. Archers in the back pointing at the battlements and ready to pepper them with arrows so they couldn't shoot back as easily, battle mages in the front, although there weren't as many, this being a Stormcloak army and not having a great deal of Dunmer supporters. Shield bearers up front and protecting the battlemages who stood in between the front lines so that they could use the shields for cover. The men were still banging on their shields before Brund gave the order for silence. The activity within the fort had ceased. Arrows were drawn on both sides, but there was nothing but silence from everyone. Everyone but Kyne that is. Brund stayed among his men so that the men inside could not get a shot on him when he spoke. "Enemies of Skyrim! Surrender your fort, your weapons and supplies...and your lives will be spared! Refuse....and die!" At this, all of his men started banging on their shields once more. There was no reply from anyone inside however. They just stood at their battlements...waiting. Brund was just about to give the signal to attack when suddenly the ground started to to shake slightly and the sound of men's footsteps could be heard from behind. Another warhorn was heard from behind as well and all the soldiers turned around to see that the bandits had somehow out maneuvered them. Brund's forces were trapped in between the walls of the fort and the oncoming army. But judging from the size of the force, Brund could see that he had not lost yet. Brund gave the order for all the troops on his right to turn to the fort and all on the left to face the newcomers, Afterwards he moved towards them and the force looking with him followed suit. Brund walked forward to see what the newcomers would do. Their men did not have their weapons yet drawn. Brund watched as the bandit force before him marched up, well organized and lined up like a professional army and he knew something was up. Maybe a Stormcloak defected and started his own army? Or a legionnaire who didn't get the memo that the war is over? Brund sat there waiting for something to happen, but nothing did for a while. Their forces just sat there staring at them. Brund was growing increasingly angry at the annoyance. "Hey! Are you going to fight or just stand there? Where's your leader?" Aenin turned to Honmund who was leaning on the pommel of his Nordic Carved "Blood Axe" while looking at Brund, trying to size him up. Aenin tapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear. "Sir, would you like me to speak to him?" Honmund gave him an uninterested shrug which said if you wish, be my guest. Aenin started moving through the men who parted for him as he walked through. Brund's eyes widened when he saw the man...he knew him. "My name is-" "Aenin!" said Brund, who cut him off. Aenin was caught off guard and he stood there confused for a moment. Then his face grew more and more worried. Frightened even. Shit! Shit shit shit! The "Son of Kyne" himself, here? And a general? This isn't good. This is the last person I ever wanted to see again, let alone in this s-. Without warning, Brund ran forward with a surprising velocity and grabbed Aenin by his neck and lifted him off his feet. Aenin's face had turned ghost white even before this happened. Brund was grinning at the force before him, which all drew their weapons while the breton dangled in the air. The sky's grumbles grew louder. "Uh uh, you play me for a fool! There's no way this half breed bitch here could have done all this! He wasn't that good a leader in the legion...Send me your leader or I snap his neck like a twig!" Honmund let out a small smile before letting it fade back into nothing, going unnoticed. Walking towards Brund while holding his Blood-Axe from under the axe head, Honmund called out, "How can you blame me for taking you for a fool, when you find yourself in such a position? You can't win this battle. Give up." Brund looked at the warrior before him and was even more confused then when he saw Aenin. He was clad in Nordic Carved armor just like the Necro Nords were and looked very much like one. "You, did you defect from our ranks? What is your name?" Honmund's eyes gave away nothing, even when he looked at Aenin. But if they did, they'd show disapproval with a bit of amusement at seeing his tough little Breton legionnaire in such a predicament. "No I am not a Necro Nord. That is all the information I will give you at the moment. All you need to know right now is that you are in no position to attack us. See reason and tell your men to stand d-" "Shut the **** up, now. I have more men then you do. Even with this position you can't defeat me. I may not be able to defeat you, but we'll sure take you with us." Honmund still gave away nothing in his eyes even when talking down to Brund. "You are either a fool or you want to die. If you carry out an attack, almost all of your men will fall." Honmund cupped his hands and called out to Brund's forces. "Hear me! My name is Honmund. Surrender now and your lives will be spared. If not, this General of yours will get you all killed!" Brund smiled even more now and he let Aenin drop. Aenin was coughing and gasping for breath on the ground as Brund and Honmund stared at each other, Brund's face fierce, Honmund's mockingly indifferent. It was now Brund's time to call out. "Men! Tell our guest what your answer is! Victory...." "Or Sovngarde!" said his men all in unison, except the Dunmer who stayed silent but thought Victory or to the ash they'll return. "My men know the drill, boy. Fight now...or die later. Cowardice is now a capital offense. At least with my men it is. Besides, I came to do a job and I intend to do it. Even if we all die, we'd have cleared out this upstart group of bandits of yours." Honmund stepped closer to Brund and stared at him right in the face. "We are not mere bandits. See reason, or we will wipe out your entire force...." Brund never lost his grin as he spoke. "Then do so! We Stormcloaks can afford to lose the men, at least in comparison to you. You, this is all you have! Replacements for you is much more of an issue than me....I came for blood...." Brund pressed his forehead to Honmund's so that his rancid breath could be smelled. Honmund was wondering about the state of this man's mind and whether or not he was crazy, stupid or both, but he didn't back down. "And I'm going to get it...." The skies grumbled even louder now as the growing storm was directly above them. Both forces stared in anticipation, sweating, some gulping in nervousness as they waited for their impending doom to commence. This fight would most certainly be bloody. Some may try to run in the confusion, but most here were hardened men and well trained. This place would become a mass grave. Aenin who was still grasping his neck and breathing heavily on the ground finally stood up and spoke. "Wait, Brund, wait! We didn't come here to fight, we came to talk." Brund kept his eyes trained on Honmund the entire time as they locked horns. "Then why does your leader here look so ready to fight, eh?" "Because Honmund is no fool. He knows that the only thing a man like you respects is strength. If he backed down, you'd just attack us sooner. We've come here to talk. We can be of some use to you..." Brund stood there in silence for a while, still staring at Honmund while grasping his weapon firmly in his hands. "That true, boy? You and your little band wish to speak?" Honmund stood up straight now and sheathed his axe on his back. "Quite. I have a proposition for you that I'm sure you'll be interested in. We came here to make sure you didn't take our fort, since we're not enemies." "Then what about the missing shipment and the missing soldiers, eh?" said Brund. "Wasn't us. We simply wiped out the bandit gang that did it and we held onto it so that other bandits wouldn't take it. The shipment is in our fort. You can have it if you agree to stand down and hear what it is that I have to say." said Honmund. Brund's adrenaline was still going and he wanted nothing more then to order the attack and continue as planned, but the situation wasn't a good one to do so, and it was clear that they weren't enemies after all. Brund finally sheathed his hammer to his men's great relief and surprise. "Fine, then lets talk. What is it that you want?" Honmund signaled for him and Aenin to follow him away from their men to speak in private. "What I am offering is very simple." said Honmund. "I will offer my forces to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak, and by extension, you. But in exchange I want your help in gaining some sort of position of power here in Skyrim. See? I have a lot of men here at my disposal and the force is still growing. We aren't common bandits as I'm sure you can tell. We are a band of warriors who seek to earn our position like the nords of old once did." Brund looked at the force to the side of them and thought about the possibilities that was now open with all the extra man-power. "Yes, this is good. With this, I can finally do something that could put me up against Red-Snow. How about this? Falkreath is in need of a Jarl right now. You take your forces and join them with mine and we start a campaign on the Forsworn of the Reach. We wipe them out or push them out of Skyrim, or at least try to. Either way, their numbers will greatly dwindle and things for Markarth will improve. After that, I convince Ulfric to make you a thane. Then, maybe we can see about making you a Jarl. But I don't know you and I certainly don't trust you. This is all hypothetical. You show me you're serious and I'll agree." "To the point, like myself. I like it. As for showing you I am serious, I don't see how I can prove that more than I already have. Here's what I'll do. I'll have my men at first do most of the heavy lifting in this war on the forsworn. Will that show you I am serious?" Honmund stuck out his hand for Brund to take. Brund stared at it for a moment, but all he saw was Baldur, bowing his head to him in defeat as he was proclaimed High General. Brund quickly took Honmunds hand and started grinning slowly and heavily. "He..he...he. Deal. Let's move out to Markarth and start setting up shop." As Brund walked off to start ordering his men to move, the skies started to move on as well, carrying the storm and it's grumbling further on, as if in disappointment and to seek battle elsewhere. Brund looked up and grinned at the sky. "Don't worry, mother. You'll soon see blood. Just not yet." ********* Some time later arriving in Markarth. "So, what exactly so you have against General Red-Snow?" said Honmund. "You show great disdain for the man." "He's an upstart, like yourself. Sees himself as Ysgramor and walks around like it is HE that is High King. Ulfric acts like he's his son or something, which is stupid as shit since he's only like ten or fifteen years older than the damn man. Desperate for an heir I suppose. Anyway, he's soft. Pals around with the men, sings songs, got married in the middle of a war...And that's what he's preoccupying himself with right now. Him and his precious Admiral. He helped me get this position, but don't let it fool you, it is simply to make himself look better. Any success I have, he can piggy back off of by saying that's the reason why he promoted me. I know it. All I have to do is perform better than he does and work harder and Ulfric will see I am the one who should be High General." "Sounds like a lot of jealousy for no reason. He's done nothing to you and even got you a position it seems you'd never reach yourself." said Honmund. "NEVER REACH MYSELF? I was killing men while you were still swimming in your father's sack, boy! I was a Legate at the age of twenty six! Twenty ******* six! I know how to lead men, I've been doing it for most of my life, yet Red-Snow whose only been in the Stormcloaks for a few years is already a General? That is absurd! If I didn't know any better, I'd say he and Ulfric are crossing swords!" "And yet he managed to stop the elite wolf pack of the Imperial legion in a few days and end the war with the Empire in a few weeks. Hardly sounds like someone undeserving of the job." Honmund was starting to think that he struck up a deal with the wrong man. Brund was showing signs of being unstable, and his jealousy of General Red-Snow was borderline obsessive. And from the stories Aenin told him about Brund during the Great War... "Shut your damn mouth! I have credentials as well from during the Great War, but because I don't get on my knees in Ulfric's private quarters, Bald-" Brund suddenly shut his mouth as they approached the city of Markarth as he saw a group of fifty soldiers before him approaching Markarth as well. They were Necro Nords. Brund ran forward and stood in front of them before they could go on. "Fellow Necro Nords! State your business here!" "We're here on orders from the General, sir." said the soon to be guard Captain. "What do you mean "the" General? Baldur? Baldur isn't the only damn General in the Stormcloak army! Now state your business!" "My apologies, General Hammer-Fang. General Red-Snow ordered us here to bolster Markarth's defenses against the Forsworn officially, and unofficially to take control of the city guard. There was an incident that apparently almost cost him his life as well as the Admiral's. A corrupt guard Captain here was looking to cover up the actions of himself and his involvement with the previous Jarl and poisonings. He doesn't think the Jarl can control his men, so we're doing it for him." Honmund shook his head in disapproval as he listened to the conversation. Brund's jealousy oozed out everywhere. This man he could tell wasn't fit to run the entire Stormcloak army. And associating with him may be counter productive. He needed to speak to Red-Snow. He was the key to obtaining power here in Skyrim, if what Brund said about his Admiral wife is true. "So Baldur was here?" asked Brund. "Do you know where he is going now?" "I don't know. Ulfric said he requested to keep his current location and all destinations unknown." Honmund stepped forward now to speak to the two. "Brund, I need to speak with Ulfric Stormcloak sooner rather than later anyway about our deal. I'll leave my men here under command of my second." "Got it, boss." said Aenin. "I was speaking of Frei. Since when did I ever consider you my second?" said Honmund to Aenin who was now grumbling to himself. "Anyway, you may find your Red-Snow there. He is a General after all. He can't stay from there for too long unless he's on official business, which I'm sure right now he is not." Brund started rubbing his chin while he thought on it a moment, then finally agreed. "Ok, then. I will have my men stay here under the authority of the Captains." Brund pointed a finger at the man who was to be the new guard captain. "You since you are the new leader here and since you are of Captain rank in the Necro Nords, you will run things while I am gone. Your mission is to start warring with the forsworn. Establish a perimeter and start searching out every hell hole that they can be hiding in! Kill them, but take prisoners if they surrender. Stick 'em in Cidhna Mine. If the Forsworn want their people back, they'll need to leave our land. Dismissed!" I know what you're doing, Baldur. You're trying to pull a fast one and steal that position from under my nose. I didn't buy that bull Stone-Fist gave when he said you didn't want it, and I still don't now. I'm coming to Solitude whether you're there or not. One way or another, Ulfric should be impressed with the army I just had dropped in my lap.

Skjari Imperial City Noon The heat from the forge could be felt in the air and the clank of of metal being hammered echoed through the smithy. The smithy and the store next to it was in fact one large room, the only thing separating the two were one large counter and a small wall to it's left. In the store side of the room were display cases to show off the finest weapons and armor. In the smithy could the forge be seen with two anvils next to it and metal bars lying around in neat and organized piles. One imperial was hammering away at one of the anvils, he didn't seem that old and was probably the apprentice of the large nord standing before Skjari at the counter. That nord had large brown beard to accompany his somewhat short hair, though not as short as the average imperial, his looks strongly reminding that of a bear. "Silver plates shackles?" The nord bear said with a deep voice, sounding curious and slightly disbelieving. "And I also need these runes carved into them." Skjari said as he gave the man a folded piece of paper. "Going to study werewolves hey?" The bear sounded sounded amused. "You wizards and your damn lust to research everything. Heh." "Something like that. But I'd rather not go into it." Skjari replied while trying to not sound too dismissive. "And I'd rather not ask too much of it anyway. I hope you know what you are doing though, werewolves are dangerous. Anyway, I should have them done in a week. You want delivered or pick them up yourself?" "Put them in a package and I'll pick them up myself." Skjari then walked out the door and into the streets where he was met with the humming of the city and the sunlight that managed to squeeze through the clouded sky. As he passed a corner he noticed a man, a bald breton, speaking to the crowd, no one tried to pay him much attention as the man sounded mad in both voice and the content of his preaching. "This world is not real. For we are just puppets, PUPPETS of the GREAT PUPPETEERS! They pull the string of what happen in this world. They dictate our fates. Some of us are favored by them, these FAVORED PUPPETS are more carefully controlled by the GREAT PUPPETEERS than the others. We are..." The man was then interrupted by a couple of guards grabbing both his arms and accusing him of disturbing the peace and scaring people with his ramblings. The mad man proceeded to scream that the guards were just following the will of the "great puppeteers" as he was hauled off towards the prison. Skjari found the scene a bit amusing and slowed down to watch a little but as the guards dragged the man away he continued down the streets back to the palace. In front of the palace, a crowd of people were gathering to hear yet another person preach in the street. This individual was more successful in gaining people's attention than the other speaker who was hauled away. The speaker here was a young Imperial man with a legion sword at his side, and judging from his posture he had been in the military. He wore a full suit of plated armor with a symbol of Stendarr on the chest piece, but he had it painted a silvery white. A silvery white that still managed to shine brightly even thought the sun was covered by the clouds. The man looked at the crowd of people with smiling pleading eyes that said he just genuinely wanted to help. Skjari's pace slowed down to a crawl, mostly because the crowd blocked his way, and watched the man, hoping that the guards would carry him off too. "People. My people. People of Cyrodiil and this wonderful Empire. I...am Gladius. Our legion is supposed to spread our great Empire's virtues, especially to the savages to the north. But of course, what is to expect when we have so many of them within our legion as well? So I left. And the Vigilant of Stendarr that seeks to bring peace and justice to this world are just too passive. So I didn't stay. Once again, based in the land of savages. Stay among the monkeys and you're bound to start throwing feces. So now, I am here today to help each and every one of you see the light myself, since no one else will." Gladeus walked up to the crowd who all had books in their hands. One book in particular in fact... When he got to the crowd from atop of the steps that he was standing from to look over them, he grabbed a book from a woman's hands after asking very politely if he could do so and saying to have a Divine day. "This book, my countrymen... This book is the very symbol of decadence in the Empire! This "Sons of Skyrim" by Magdela Bathory. Have any of you fine people had the chance to read this book yet? No? Then please, do yourselves a favor and return this trash! It's the very source of our problems! The author is an Imperial woman, yet this story speaks of a Skyrim victory, even before their independence was accepted! The author is anti Empire, and she is helping to spread the influence of those savages to our fair corner of Tamriel! Is it any wonder? She pro Thalmor before our new Empress came into power! See? Anyone who opposes or works to weaken Cyrodiil she favors! Not surprising that a whore like her would be a traitor." Gladeus's voice while loud was also soft spoken and charming, not zealous like the other speaker. The man was only in his early twenties, but he had the tone of a father figure that helped to sway those he spoke to. "Have any of you actually been to Skyrim?" The crowd started speaking in low tones amongst themselves, most of them shaking their heads as they did. Gladeus continued. "Well let me tell you something about those barbarians. The first thing I'll tell you is a common misconception is that those heathens don't bathe, they all have wild unkempt hair, they spit and blow their noses in the same buckets they wash from and so on. But it is not so! Nay, the northern men are more cunning than you think! They actually in fact bathe quite often. At least once a week. Once a week! And they make sure that they wash their hands and faces...in the morning...before they eat...after they eat...and just before bedtime again! That is the common folk's custom! Now you may be saying...what's wrong with that? What's wrong with that? Why, not even our prostitutes bathe that much! And don't think for a second that they are any better than prostitutes, with their over-cleanliness. You'd think that with that kind of bathing, they'd have better table manners like in Cyrodiil. Do you know that they play with their food and horse around at the table, breaking plates and singing obscene ballads while being so far down their tankards of mead that they can't even remember what they had for supper the next day? Half their damn food ends up being stored in their beards! No wonder they wash their hands so much! It's ridiculous! But that isn't the only reason for it. Let me tell you a little story and show you the true reason these heathens bathe so much. I was married before. A fair imperial woman I met in Skyrim. I met her in the vigil. We were just newly married, and we had not yet consummated our love. Well, one day I walked into the tavern room I was staying in and what do I see? I see a window, opened. I see sheets sticking out of it tied up in a makeshift rope. I see a hairy long blonde haired man in my bed looming over the love of my life, just...just...slamming her and..." Gladeus started shedding a tear, but he quickly wiped it away. "These nords comb their hair every day, wash their hair every day and bathe at least once a week for the sole purpose of attracting women and violating the domain of lady Mara herself! And this book is filled with the glorification of these heathens! Glorifying this savage nord military leader and his lover while they do these...things in the middle of a damned war! These are the people that Magdela Bathory is promoting! The Empress as well! If you let them, it'll be YOUR wives being swayed next! It'll be YOUR ears filled with the savage moaning and loud creaking of your lovers with these men in your bed! These people who groom themselves more than Cyrodiili prostitutes! If the Empress and Magdela Bathory had their way, the nords will be taking over this wonderful land of ours! They'll be climbing in your windows, snatching your women up, trying to screw them, so you better hide your daughters and hide your wives, because those nords will be screwing EVERYONE out here! If we dont do....something....anything...." Gladeus walked up into the crowd and gave the woman her book back. The woman just happened to be one of Skjari's very own maids, but judging from her expression, handsome well groomed men climbing through her window all the time sounded like heaven. "My fair lady, does this not bother you? Do you not care about the sanctity of marriage? I do, which is why I've been saving myself for when I find my true love. You, would you not rather have a man care for you, and only you? Treat you as someone special? To love and care for you, or would you rather be treated like some common whore?" The maid glanced around, as if she was looking to see if anyone she knew saw her. She quickly shook her head as she lowered it and shed a tear. Gladeus smiled and grabbed her hand and gently kissed it. "I think you are special, which is why I think you shouldn't read trash like this, fair lady. You like myself are above this..." At Gladeus's words and charming voice, the maid threw down the book and stomped it after spitting on in. Gladeus stuck out his hand, and the maid took it and followed him back up to the top of the stairs so that he could look over his growing crowd. The maid had her arm wrapped around his as he spoke. This caused Skjari to stop fully as he watched from the outskirt of the crowd. His face got a hint of annoyance as the maid grabbed the knights arm. He subtly summoned a couple of the creeps of Namira, wicked looking little insect-like creatures, that unnoticeable crawled down from his boots and onto the ground, through the crowd towards the white knight. But then the knight spoke up again. "My friends! Don't let these people unleash the promiscuity of the north upon our land! Don't let Ulfric Stormcloak, that monster win even more than what he already has! I was in Skyrim, so I know! That monster tortures Dunmer civilians and he murdered their King for no good reason besides a desire for power! Those Stormcloaks go around raping anyone they want, just like the incident in Whiterun! They're doing it right now! And these are the people that our Empress has allied with? These are the people that Magdela Bathory glorify in this book of filth, sex, sex, more sex and Nord decadence? Is their any wonder that even our Empress has been rumored to whore around with other women? Where do you think she gets it from? You think it's a coincidence that those two have been seen together? Ha! No. How else can you explain her allying with a man like Ulfric Stormcloak? A man who butchers people who don't stand up and fight for his cause, and doesn't allow khajiits and argonians in his cities? The man is a racist! A racist bigoted moron who couldn't lead his way out of a paper bag! His latest General even starved the citizens of Falkreath and only allowed people who joined their militia to eat! Ulfric Stormcloak is the harbinger of chaos and the bringer of debauchery my people. Don't let our Empress and her ties lead you down this path, or we'll all be sharing our beds with nord men, eating broth with our fingers drunk off our asses while they violate our wives! Please, my fellow citizens of the Empire, don't let Ulfric Stormcloak take Cyrodiil from us. Don't l-" Suddenly Gladeus's expression changed from pleading to confused. His hand started patting furiously at his armor, and he started twitching all over. A small smile crept up in the right corner of his mouth at the sight. The maid holding on to him quickly let go and put her hands on his breast plate while shaking him and asking what was the matter. Gladeus pushed her back, and the maid tripped backwards and fell down the stairs, and Skjari's smile faded. The people let out a scream as they rushed to her side. Gladeus then backed away as he started twitching and running around trying to get his armor off. The onlookers were very confused and people started talking frantically, wondering what the hell was going on. "Help me, something's in my armor! Something's in my armor!" Nobody came however, fearing that whatever was wrong with him would somehow catch on them. Gladeus ran around in a circle, hopping and twitching and a lot of the people wondered if he was mad. Gladeus grew increasingly desperate and drew his imperial sword. When he started smacking himself with it in his mad frantic dance, everyone in the crowd dispersed and called the guards immediately. Skjari used the opportunity and quickly walked forward through the dissipating mass. His size helped with keeping people to see him and from running into him as he made his way towards the stairs. The guards weren't very far away and were watching the spectacle in disbelief. One of them tried telling him to sheathe his weapon, but Gladeus's screams were too loud and they wouldn't cease. He just kept running around swinging his sword like a thing possessed and occasionally smacked at himself some more. When Skjari reached the stairs he saw the maid lying near the bottom of them, she didn't move and had blood on her forehead. The crowd had withdrawn to a what they apparently deemed a safe distance. Skjari crouched by the maid, put his hand to her mouth and nose, she was still breathing. He started casting a healing spell while sending a quick glance at the knight and couldn't help but to smile that devious and almost unnoticeable smile again. Eventually the guards took a chance and four of them tackled him to the ground. Gladeus didn't stop however and he persisted in his flaying, kicking and screaming. The guards made him drop his sword when he was tackled to the ground, so Gladeus bit off one of the guard's ears so he could escape the pile and start hitting at his armor once again. The guard sat on the ground holding his ear screaming, and the others reacted accordingly by drawing their swords and separating Gladeus's head from his body. His now lifeless body kept on twitching for a while before it finally ceased it's movement. The blood on the maids forehead disappeared inside the wound as it closed. After that and dealing with any internal injuries she opened her eyes and looked at Skjari. She looked ashamed as she saw him and turned her gaze away from him. And when he helped her get back on her feet her gazed remained on the ground. "Come on, lets get back to the palace." Skjari said in a soft tone as he put his arm around her and led her to the palace. Her gaze turned to the book that lied on the ground, dirtied and ruined. She stopped as she looked at with a some sadness in her eyes. "Let it lie. I can get you a new copy." She stood still for a second but then let them continue back to the palace. When they finally got back into the palace the maid had lost her ashamed look and now looked at him with a mischievous smile and lust in her eyes. Skjari couldn't say a word of this before she spoke. "To Oblivion with that knight. Lets have some fun." Then she quickly took the lead as she almost literally dragged him to the closest empty bedchamber in the palace, which also happened to be the empress bedchamber. Dales herself was holding court in the throne room and would never know what had happened here.

Imperial City evening Telendro’s eyes roved around the room and came to rest on a tall blonde woman surrounded by a small group of men. She wore a dress of dark brown velvet that left one arm exposed. A diamond hung between her breasts on a gold chain so fine, the stone seemed to float. In one hand was a drink with which she gestured at people as she talked and laughed. There may have been a more beautiful woman than Magdela Bathory at the gathering of artists and intellectuals, but all around the room, eyes turned to look at her. It wasn’t just the countess’ beauty that drew their eyes. She radiated sensuality, and something else. At home in Telendro’s solarium, he grew mostly orchids and other curiosities. A collector herself, Bathory had been to see them more than once. Now as the old Altmer observed her, he was reminded of a rare flower that looked much like the other orchids around it, delicate and beautiful. This one gave off a faint scent much like rotting meat, attracting small insects, which it then devoured as nourishment. He doubted very much that anyone paying court to Lady Bathory tonight knew what she really was. Telendro himself didn’t know for sure, but he suspected. She was like that flower. His eyes and thoughts had moved elsewhere when the countess herself stood before him with a delighted smile. “Magistrate, how have you been keeping yourself?†“My lady.†Telendro bowed stiffly. “Very well, thank you.†“Have you seen Vesta’s hothouse? Not as fine as yours, but she has some interesting specimens. Come, I’d like to show you.†The Altmer was about to decline when he caught Bathory’s expression. His pulse quickened. “Very well.†The small hothouse was down a winding garden path. Magdela took his arm and walked slowly with him, chatting of petty gossip. Inside, hot stones powered by magic puffed steam into the air, warming the delicate flowers and trees. Stopping by a miniature palm, the countess turned to face him. Telendro felt a reflexive twinge in his groin, and for a moment could almost picture those shapely limbs writhing beneath him. Even at his age, he would have jumped at the chance. Then she spoke. “How goes your progress on the Kvatch matter?†“Ah. Countess. It’s as I told your father, the papers are all in order. I’ve been over and over them. There were no mistakes, there are no forgeries. The former count applied for the city charter and was granted it under the late Emperor Mede. It was all proper.†Maggie’s eyes glinted in the dim light. “Then I suggest you go over them again.†“My lady...†Telendro stopped. The twinge in his groin was now a faint nausea. He ran long fingers, knobbed from years of holding a quill, through his hair. “I suppose... I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look again.†“No. That could never hurt, could it?†“But what if I... Very well, my lady. If that is all, I’ll return to the party.†“Don’t take me for being ungrateful, Telendro, it’s just that I fear my brother may have moved up our timeline somewhat by his forwardness. We need that charter annulled. I’ll be sending you an assistant to help with it.†“An assistant?†“Fanis has, shall we say, specialized talents. He’s very good with documents.†She paused for emphasis. “With producing particular documents that may be needed.†The Altmer’s mouth twitched. He had not found any forgeries, so he would be forced to make one. There was nothing he could say. They didn’t accept excuses, these people. The command was given and you did it. Bathory crossed over to a low-hanging flower and brushed her fingers over it. “There is another matter I wished to discuss with you. You made an application to the city watch to look into disappearances in the Imperial Prison. Tell me about them.†How did she know? How did they always know? “Yes, my lady. I get dockets on my desk for pending trials, but the prisoners never appear. They can’t be accounted for. No signs of escape, no bodies. Strangely, they are all elves.†Her eyes turned back to him. “Anything else?†“The guards reported sometimes seeing a strange man entering the prison on nights that prisoners disappeared. He was tall, wearing a dark cloak, but no one can remember seeing his face.†Another silence. Finally the countess smiled, crossed over and took his arm. “I think you are working too hard, Magistrate. You know as well as I do that imperial justice has its own ways of dealing with the dangerous and unwanted who might get off on a technicality. The guards have obviously made up this story about a faceless man to cover for their own indiscretions.†“But...†The hand on his arm tightened, almost imperceptibly. “You have enough on your desk to be worrying about a few wayward prisoners. There will be nothing more said on the matter, are we clear? Nothing said to anyone.†After a pause, she went on, “You do remember the sacrifices that were made to keep you safe in this city? When the Thalmor presented their lists to the imperial government of Altmer they wanted turned over, your name was never on them. Can you even comprehend what was required to accomplish that? We are your friends, Magistrate, but friendship cannot only go one way." The magistrate answered in a whisper. “I understand. Perfectly.†How could he not? This had been his life for longer than many imperial citizens had been alive. At home, Telendro lay awake staring at the ceiling until the sun’s light slanted in his windows and fell across his face. Towards midday, he got out of his bed, dressed and went to the solarium. One by one, he watered the orchids, repaired their stakes, and tidied their leaves. When he was satisfied, he took a chair, slung a rope from the ceiling beam, coiled a loop in it, and put the loop around his neck. The afternoon sun glinted golden through the windows and traced patterns on the floor, marking where his shadow twitched and then swung gently silent.

Person: ??? Location: ??? Time: ??? A lone figure walked through a forest that was unnaturally still. It was nighttime, but there were no moons in the sky, only a uniform canopy of blue and purple light with star-like pinpoints. The man was dressed in leathers with a dark cloak slung over his shoulders, and was bent slightly under the weight of a large pack. He had light brown hair, dagger shorn, and a hint of mustache but no beard. The soft clank of metal against metal could be heard as he walked. His path seemed to be aimless, and occasionally he would stop to look around, appearing perplexed and anxious. When the man saw another figure approach, he diverted his steps to meet him. "Excuse me, friend. I'm looking for my wife. Have you seen her?" The man that he spoke to was clad in large silver armor, well crafted and ornamented with bear fur around his collar. The man had a black cape with a silver bear insignia on his back and two expertly crafted nordic carved axes. The large dark blonde haired man addressed the traveler with a voice that showed a state of urgency. "No I don't think I have. I'm looking for my wife too. Her name is Rebec. Have you seen her? Where am I? This place...it seems familiar." The other figure's eyebrows shot up. For a minute he didn't say anything, then recognition seemed to dawn. In a less friendly tone he asked, "Who are you?" "I am Baldur Red-Snow. I'm a general in the Stormcloak army." Baldur looked to the figure in front of him suspiciously. He didn't like the way that he was looking at him and he was getting worried for Rebec. "Who are you? And have you seen my wife or not? I don't have time to talk with you unless you have. Hurry up!" "A general?" The man sounded surprised, and started to smile, but it soon faded. "I don't know where she is or why you're here. This is Sovngarde, or somewhere close to it. Something's changed, but I don't know what. I thought Rebec might be trying to reach the hall and couldn't find it. She never could get her bearings on land." "Sov-...no. No, no this can't be. This can't be! I can't be dead, I can't! I need to get back to her!" Baldur put a hand to his forehead as his face grimaced in pain. But not physical pain. He started thinking about how it could be that he died, but nothing came up. "Wait, I've been here before without dying. But I was close. Am I dreaming? And...and..." Baldur's face straightened out when he realized he wasn't dead after all. It just dawned on him that the man knew who Rebec was. Baldur glared as fiercely as he possibly could at the man in front of him as he spoke. "If I'm back in Sovngarde, and you know who Rebec is...and you were looking for your "wife"...tell me. Is your name Toki Pot-Banger?" The man laughed grimly. "The gods are playing a trick on us, Baldur Red-Snow. I asked leave to look for Rebec and they send me her new husband instead. How is it you've been here before?" Baldur didn't find it worth laughing about at all, and he cursed the gods at that moment for doing so. His facial expression didn't change as he spoke. "A big ass arrow in the back. Almost killed me sometime during the war. After Ulfric took Skyrim." Baldur narrowed his eyes as he focused everything on Toki. "What business do you have with my wife?" "My wife, you mean?" Toki crossed his arms, looking Baldur up and down. "It's like I told you. I could tell something had changed. I felt like she might be looking for me and lost somewhere. If Rebec calls you husband these days, did she find out what happened to me? Maybe I shouldn't ask such questions, but since you're here, you might as well answer them." Baldur unsheathed his axe and let his arm rest at his side. "Lets get something straight right now. She is not your wife. She is MY wife. Even before she gave herself to me and vice versa, you lost the privilege to call her that a LONG time ago. Yea, she knows what happened to you. I helped her recover your remains and avenge your death. Silver tooth or whatever is dead. You should see him up here by now." "He's not, but I'm not surprised. That one had no honor. Rebec killed him? I was afraid he'd catch up to her sooner or later." Uncrossing his arms, Toki parted his cloak and rested his hands on his belt, then gestured with his head at Baldur's axe. "What do you think you're going to do with that, Stormcloak? I'm already dead. If Reb gave you the right to call her wife, I got no argument with that, but she did the same to me once." "I may not be able to kill you, but I can take all the pain that she had to deal with in her life alone for so long and take it out on your ass. And I'm very very tempted to do so. Best part about this place is when you die, you just come back." Baldur's breathing was steadily growing heavier, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to settle his anger. Finally Baldur sheathed his axe and continued to speak. "You may have been her husband once, in name, but in practice you stopped being that. I am the one who stands by her side no matter where she goes. I am the one who comforts her when she hurts. And when she hurts, I hurt. How could you? How could you just let her go without you? You didn't care that she was with other men before! You didn't care that when she crashed her ship, she was stuck in a damn skooma den! You didn't stay by her side and comfort her when she LOST HER ******* CHILD! So why the hell should you have the right to still call her wife?!? Tell me that Pot-Banger!" Toki stared hard at Baldur. There was surprise in his expression, but no anger. He seemed to be thinking about what he'd heard. Finally he said, "I've had a lot of time to think about all of that. Maybe that's why I'm not allowed to see her now. Maybe this is some kind of punishment, listening to you talk about things you know nothing about. I wonder how much you know Rebec, though, if you don't know the answers to those questions." Baldur crossed his arms and sighed. "I know what she'd say. She did already. She'd tell me that she wanted to be free and not be held down. She'd say that you did care in your own way or some such crap. I didn't believe it when she said it then and I don't believe it now. I don't think she even believes it. Not really. I know she is a very independent person, but I also know that despite that, she tried to be a wife anyway. The child's death pushed you apart. I get it. But if it were me, I wouldn't let that get in the way. I'd stay by her side, and I will do that now if our child to be suffers the same fate. You could have at least tried to hold on to her. But you didn't. Bad circumstances or no, you had your chance in her life. It's done. To be honest, you two never should have been married in the first place. You think I know nothing about it. That's exactly what your mother told me before I set things straight with her as well. You know what I think? I think I know more about it than you want to believe. And it hurts you. As it should." "You've got it all figured out, then." Toki's voice did register anger now, and some sarcasm. "You with your soldier swagger. Want to know what I think? I think it kills you that I had her first. Reb wanted to go her own way and I let her. If I'd have tried to follow her around wherever she went, she'd just have gotten in that ship and gone further. If she lets you follow her, it's because that's what she wants now. And that..." He stopped, and sighed. "That's not easy to hear." Baldur chuckled now and allowed himself to smile. "Ah, so you do have a pair. Good, my wife didn't marry a toothless pup. No, you having her first doesn't bother me. At least not anymore. It's not your name she calls when we're together. You being her first love on the other hand, yea that gets under my skin. Not because you were with her first, but because someone who claims to love her should have done better for her. You loved the same woman that I do so you and I should be able to understand each other. Yet we are complete opposites. You say she would have just sailed further? Then you should have ended the marriage. But what I think is that is a fallacy. A lie that you tell yourself when you think back and wonder the same thing I do when you think about how you failed her when she lost her child. It's a lie she tells herself to save putting the blame where it belongs. You were her husband, Toki. Surely you think you should have at least tried. She already told me that if you stayed by her side, she probably wouldn't have wandered. She needed to be comforted. She needed support. She didn't find it in you, so she buried her pain and found it in sailing, drink and other men. That is on you, Toki Pot-Banger. You know my words to be true." "Let me guess. You're newly married, aren't you? The world seems like a new place. You look at her and can't get enough of her looking at you. She says your name and it's like you could fly to Sovngarde and back on the thrill alone." He had a knowing smile. "It was like that for us once, too. Why didn't I just give her up? Would you, if she came back to you and gave you that smile that made everything better?" Holding out a calloused, work-worn finger, Toki said, "And don't you talk about our child. I can tell by the sound of your voice and the look in your eye, that's a path you haven't walked. I hope you never do." Baldur took a step to him as he pointed. "If it were me, she wouldn't need to come back in the first place. She'd be with me always. I'll never abandon her. I don't know what it's like to have a child yet, but I feel the pain of losing one all too well." Baldur closed his eyes and tried to hold back tears but couldn't. "I don't know what it's like to have something so small and precious cling to you in pure love. To know that you are it's life giver. I don't know that feeling, but the pain, I feel it even as you and I speak. Through Rebec. That child is a part of Rebec, and she is a part of me. My best friend who I call brother married recently as well. A fierce warrior, the fiercest. His wife had a child and he loves her as if she was her own. Do you know why? Because she's the child of his wife. So when she told me finally that she had a kid that died, I felt a multitude of emotions all at once. Pain for Rebec and pain for Jala were the most acute. As far as I'm concerned, her loss is my loss as well. Your loss is my loss. You wonder how I can speak of such things when I didn't experience them first hand, well that is why. You wonder how I can say so surely that I wouldn't leave Rebec, well that is because our love is different from yours. It isn't at all the same, so don't try to compare your experience with mine. She doesn't make me feel like the world is a new place. She is my world. I couldn't bare to think about her being out of my life even for a second. We've fought together, almost died together, and we've felt the pain of almost losing each other when I was captured by Thalmor. You can't relate to me. Our bond is something else entirely than newly weds. She's not just my new wife. She's my life, my everything. She's changed me on so many levels, and I've changed her. We are destined to be together. We understand and love each other on a level no one else will ever understand. I'll do anything, kill anyone to make sure she stays with me forever." Toki's hand fell and he looked silently at Baldur a long moment. "Then I suppose that is what the gods brought me here to hear. You can't know what Rebec and I had, because that's for us alone and not even the gods can take that away. You may think you understand, but you don't. You'll never know another person as much as that. Maybe the gods brought you here to hear this, Baldur Red-Snow. Don't think you own her, and don't think you understand everything about her, because you never will." He turned away, but didn't leave, only looked at the false sky. After some minutes he turned back. "Still, I can see you're a lot closer to it than I was. I have no rights to Rebec. I never did. I was just privileged to be with her a while. If she's happy with you, then I'm happy. You're still young in your ways and you've got a big mouth, but you wouldn't have come to Sovngarde and back if you weren't a strong man. I'll rest easier in my time here knowing she's with you and happy. Tell her that, will you? Tell her..." He paused. "No. No, better not. Let her forget me, if she can." "I'll tell her anyway, Toki. As I said, she is a part of me. She loved you once. You were important in her life, which is why I care so much about your marriage with her. I don't want to take away what you had. I don't need to. What we have is stronger, and anyway it makes her who she is. And we'll have a child of our own and I'll know her even more. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I'll never completely understand her. But I know her better than you or anyone else does. I know her better than even she knows herself. The same can be said for her in relation to me. You say I don't own her, and you're right. You know why? Because it's impossible to own something that has equal rights to you. She is mine and I am equally hers. That, Toki is something you will never understand. But if there is anything I can take from this, it's that you didn't just not care about her. You screwed up. But it wasn't all your fault. I can see that now. If I can see that I'm sure you can see where you were at fault as well." Toki chuckled drily. "Better than you. I always thought Sovngarde would be about the best mead and the best songs. It's about seeing yourself with no illusions, but also seeing that even the worst there is is not all there is. I've had nothing but time to think on my faults and failings, and I'll have more, but that's as it should be. It all is as it should be. I thank you for showing me that, Baldur Red-Snow, even if it was just the salt on your boasting. You think you're a better man than me, and a better husband, then learn from my mistakes. I don't mind. You'll have plenty enough of your own to make." Baldur's facial expression softened against his will and was forced to crack a smile. Laugh even. Baldur walked up to Toki and stuck out his hand. "Ain't that the truth. I suppose it's hard to forget you aren't perfect when you have someone that sees you that way. Look, I may never forgive you for the way things turned out. I suppose that's natural. But maybe I can...ease off your back a bit. Stop telling her you didn't care. That isn't true and telling her her first love didn't care for her wouldn't help her pain either. Losing a child isn't easy. So I guess you can say I already have made some mistakes. And...maybe I can help you get past Tsun when it's my turn to come here, eh? Just as long as you understand when we come to Sovngarde, she'll still be with me." Toki looked at the hand at first, but didn't hesitate long before taking it. He grinned. "We'll see about that. She's a lot of woman to hold on to, Red-Snow, and you talk a big game. I'll believe it when I see it." Releasing Baldur's hand, he stepped off a little, still awkward and not very happy with Shor for sending him out here just for this. Even if Rebec had only yelled at him, that would have been infinitely preferable. Welcome, even. In fact he'd have given anything just to be yelled at by her again. After a pause he said, "So you saw my ma? Don't expect you got asked to stay for dinner." "Yea, well you said it yourself. I have a big mouth. Especially when it comes to Rebec. Believe it or not when insults are traded or war is had, I'm usually cooler than a frost troll's ass. But when it comes to Rebec...I don't know. All that goes out the window. You know, I even defended you in that conversation. Partly." Shaking his head, Toki snorted in disbelief. "She still going on about me? The whole ungrateful son routine. Heard it a dozen times if I heard it one. Funny thing is, the more I went to see her, the louder she said it. I love my ma, but the woman hasn't got a lick of sense in her head." He seemed a little more at ease, commiserating with Baldur about a common problem. Hesitating, Toki then said softly, "You can tell Reb this, if you think the time is right. Jala's here, with me. Not in the way you see me standing here. She was too little for that. But I can feel her here and she can speak to me, in a certain way. She's at peace. She knew we loved her, and that we tried to do our best for her. That always ate me up inside, thinking in her short life she only knew pain in the world. It did the same for Rebec. But Jala does know. She loves her mama back. You tell Reb that." Baldur dropped some more tears as he smiled again. The thought was soothing. "I will. Anything to ease her pain. And mine. I just have to convince her somehow that this was real. And me. I don't know if she believes me or not when I told her I was here before. I was a bard before, you see. Exaggerating stories comes with the trade. Don't tell her I said that though. I always say my stories are one hundred percent true." "No, she probably won't believe you." He thought a moment, then said, "If you want to make sure she does, give her a blue mountain flower when you tell her. I used to bring them to her because the color reminded me of her eyes. Meanwhile Rebec had no use for flowers. She'd smile and take them, then throw them in her pack and they'd be crushed and rotten by the next day. Probably she's forgotten all about that." Grinning, Toki said, "A bard. Might have known that, from all your talking. I should tell you a wild story and not make you seem like a big hero who gets to come to Sovngarde whenever he pleases." "Hehehe, well I don't decide what the gods do for me. What can I say. I am glad they brought me here though. This was rather therapeutic. Getting to shout at you and all. That and seeing you for myself and seeing you did care helps. The thought that you were with her first and didn't care was worse than knowing you did. In fact I'm happy that you did. Nice touch on the blue mountain flowers by the way. I like that. I think I may take up that practice myself if you don't mind it." With a smug grin, Toki said, "Now who's the bard. You're welcome to do it, but don't be crushed if she's not impressed. And I'm glad I could oblige by being shouted at, I guess. If it helps Rebec... Wait, you thought I didn't care about her? Does she talk that badly about me?" "No no. She..." Baldur hesitated. He didn't want to tell him she barely mentioned him, so he figured it would be more merciful not to be completely honest. "When she does mention you, it's not in a bad way. That was just my judgement from the situation. Before I knew about the baby. I literally just found out about Jala. After that, I thought you were like your mother and just stopped caring after she failed to give you a healthy child. Even without this little meeting, with time I think I'd have figured it out eventually. I'm quick on the uptake. As for the flowers, even if she's not I'll do it anyway. She's not a flower loving girl, as you know. She's more of a battle trophy girl. I gave her a briar heart once and told her it reminded me of her because she stole my heart a long time ago. Not bad eh? I even picked it out myself. From a man's chest." Toki whistled. "A briarheart? Not easy to kill, those are." He stopped, grumbling a little internally. A fair warrior himself, he still probably couldn't compete with a general. He'd mostly talked his way out of fights, or avoided them. Not that it matters now. "I would never do that to Rebec. We were scared to be parents, but once I got used to the idea, there was nothing I wanted more. You can't know what it was like." He shook his head. "It was a bad time, and as soon as she could, Reb ran off back to her ship. She wouldn't let me talk about the baby at all. A forbidden subject. I just wanted her to be happy. I thought by giving her what she wanted... Well. We've established that I'm the biggest fool in Skyrim, or was. Don't let her do that to you. Sink that damn ship if you have to." Baldur thought back to how she reacted when he asked about kids and realized it made sense. Rubbing the back of his head, Baldur said, "You know that does sound like her. You have to really fight that one to get her to express herself. She's getting better at it though. When I tried asking her about kids, she ran out of our room. I had to run her down. That's how I found out about Jala. So yea I can see that now. She said she'd give up her sailing, but I plan on making us go every now and then for her sake. Don't you worry, if she wants to get away from me, she's gonna have to defeat the whole Stormcloak army to do so. As long as I don't do anything to hurt her and drive her away, I'll never let her go. And if I ever do, if I ever hurt her or lay with another woman, then I suppose she'll be with you in Sovngarde. Don't get your hopes up though. I'd rather chop my nethers than to ever do that to her." "Aha! See what I'm talking about, don't you." Toki gestured at Baldur with a lopsided smile. "That's my Rebec. Uh... I mean... Sorry. Habit." The toolsmith smiled again, then his voice fell off. In the pause he kicked at the ground, not really wanting the conversation to end, though he'd been cursing the gods about it just a short while before. Even if it wasn't what he expected, it was Rebec, or all that he had left of her. Finally he said, "I think I'm supposed to go back now. And you, Baldur Red-Snow, you've got somewhere to be. Staying here too long when you're not dead can't be good for you." He stepped forward to put out his hand again, and gripped Baldur's, leveling his gaze on him. "Hold on to her for all you're worth, Stormcloak. Like there won't be a next time. She's worth the tears and cursing. Gods know I found that out too late." Baldur smiled more willingly this time. It hadn't occurred to him that accepting Toki was ever an option. Once jealousy was cleared, it was easy to do. "You know, I didn't always hate you. It was only after that mother of yours started flying off the mouth and the news of the child that made me start thinking negatively of you. They wanted someone to blame, which was her, and I wanted someone to blame as well. Naturally and unfairly that fell to you. And I guess I may have exaggerated when I said I'd never forgive you." Baldur pulled Toki to him still holding his hand and gave him a pat on the back before breaking off. It wasn't easy for him to do, but he was glad he did. "You know us bards." "Bard." Toki grumbled and shook his head, not believing what Rebec had resorted to in his absence. It was good-natured, however. A weight had been taken off him that he hadn't realized was there, even in seeing his faults put plainly to him by another. There was some freedom in that. Mostly he felt relief that his beloved and his daughter's memory were safe with someone worthy of them both. "Get on with you then, Red-Snow. Don't know what you're doing here when you got that woman beside you." There wasn't anything left to say, so Toki turned and walked off the way he came, humming a little tune and clanking tools as he went. Baldur took a deep long breath and sighed as some of his burden was lifted. Not all, but some. He still had to deal with his jealousy of Toki, but it would leave in time. Or at least he'd learn to live with it. And he could better help Rebec's heart-ache heal now that he had some better insight and could focus on her more and his issues less. She still had the death of a child on her shoulders and the fate of another to worry about. It was a lot for Baldur to deal with. But as Toki said, the tears and cursing was worth it. "Uh, wait! Which way's the whalebone bridge?" Toki was too far off now to hear, so Baldur shrugged his shoulders and turned around to walk back where he came. When he did, his face hit something metal in front of him hard, and knocked him back to the ground. Baldur looked up as he rubbed his nose in pain. What stood before him was none other than Tsun, shield-thane of Shor. Baldur's nose had ran smack into his metal belt medallion. "RED-SNOW! You keep sneaking your way back up here and I may just make your stay a little more permanent!" "Damnit, that hurt you big bastard! You're pretty sneaky for being s-" "Nahl....Daal Vus!" (Living, Return, Nirn) Tsun interrupted his speech with the same booming thu'um from before to send him back to the land of the living. Once Baldur returned, Baldur's vision turned pitch black. He was back in the room sitting up in his bed, but his eyes weren't closed like before when he first went from resting. At once, a headache and heavy fuzzy eyes could be felt along with extreme fatigue and sleepiness. Baldur realized that he didn't close his eyes all night and that he fell asleep with his eyes open. Too many thoughts on his mind. He went to get up when he noticed that something was pressing on him. It was Rebec. He cradled her in his arms all night despite how tired he was and how uncomfortable it eventually got. Suddenly the events in his dream came rushing back to him all at once. He could recall every detail, every word that was said, just like before. He still didn't believe it was real, however. Not until he suddenly felt the dull pain on his nose. "But how? How could..." Before he could finish the thought, Rebec started moving to settle in his arms and accidentally elbowed him in the nose as she moved around to get comfortable again. Baldur despite the pain laughed with tears in his eyes. "Perhaps it was just a dream. Still, it helped a lot. I'll see what she thinks in the morning." Baldur's leg had started to fall asleep from the pressure of Rebec's body on him, but he didn't dare move, so as not to disturb her sleep. Baldur put the furs over them as he still sat up in the bed and forced himself to close his eyes. Hearing Rebec's gentle snoring and feeling her drool pool on his shirt strangely helped. And sleep soon came to him, finally. Rebec slept on, oblivious to Baldur's aetherial wanderings or his discomfort. It was Baldur's nearness and her emotional exhaustion that had let her sleep at all. Finally, she stirred and began to uncoil, wiping her mouth and groaning awake. Feeling her husband's warm weight next to her, she yawned and sat up, then suddenly tensed as the memories of the night before returned. She turned to look at him, her expression alarmed and vaguely guilty even through the puffy eyes. The pain at remembering her baby's death had been bad enough, but it was worse seeing how it hurt Baldur. Paralyzed, Rebec didn't even want to say "good morning." She was afraid that everything was different now. In the back of her mind was the fear that she'd see disappointment on his face. Baldur had had such nice dreams, such hopes for them both. Just by being who she was, she'd ruined them. He didn't deserve that. Baldur didn't stay asleep for too much longer due to her stirring. Thankfully the rest of his sleep was dreamless, and he wasn't so tired anymore when he awoke. When he did, he saw Rebec watching him as he woke. His dream earlier was nice, but now it was time for reality. Hopefully the dream would help with that, whether it was real or not. Baldur let out a long hard yawn, as if he had just rested after a day of hard labor. Putting a hand on Rebec's cheek, Baldur said, "What's the matter, love?" Biting her lip, Rebec tried to think what to say. Her normal inclination was to shrug everything off, but that didn't work with Baldur. She was on uncertain ground and her need for him had never felt more acute. "I was thinking..." Anything she could put next sounded dumb. Resting her head back where it had been on his chest, she tried again. "I was wondering what you were thinking. About... you know." Baldur ran his fingers through her hair and smelled her scent as he rested his eyes again. He felt it was best not to tell her about the dream until after he said what he needed to say. Which was the truth. The sooner he lay it out the better. Just as she did with him. He was still hurting enough for tears to run down his face, and he didn't try to hold them back. He knew he couldn't. "The first thing I want to say to you is despite everything, I feel no different about you then before. You are my world, Rebec. That said...I won't lie to you. I am upset. I just wish that you had told me about Jala sooner. Then I wouldn't have gotten my hopes up to be the first to give you a child. I just feel jealous I suppose, which is childish. Toki already was your first lover and your first husband, on top of being the first man you loved. I just clinged to the thought that I'd be the first to give you a child. There isn't anything I can really give you as a first now, but that doesn't matter I suppose. I still love you and I still look forward to us having a child. But that isn't the main reason I'm upset. The main reason I'm upset is because we went by all this time and I had no idea you were hurting inside. And now that I do, I feel like I lost a child. Everytime I think about her and the pain you must have felt, it's like daggers are in my chest. But I'm happy that I can share this pain with you anyway. I hope that you knowing it hurts me too will somehow help. I love you with every fiber in my body. Nothing will ever change that no matter what you do." Rebec glanced up once, saw that he was crying, and panicked, but laid her head back down and listened to him anyway. Tears tickled the corners of her eyes, too, but she held them back. When he was done, she sat up. "You don't think you're my first? Baldur, you're the only man I've ever felt this way about. It wasn't Toki's fault, I was just a stupid kid and hadn't grown up yet, and later there was too much between us for it to be better. You said you'd give me a second chance, but this feels like my first chance to have something real. A family." She wiped her eyes and reached up to wipe his cheek, the sight of his tears like a dagger in her gut. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I should have, you're right. I tried to warn you that you shouldn't marry me. You know why I couldn't, don't you? Sometimes I think it was some cursed dream I had. If I don't talk about it, it's like it never happened. I didn't realize how unfair it was to you til now." Baldur's tears after that were out of happiness than anything else, but he did feel guilt as well. Laughing slightly, Baldur said, "I feel really small and petty to feel better from you saying that. You don't seriously think I wouldn't marry you over this if you told me sooner, do you? And yea, I understand why you didn't. Telling your feelings isn't your strong suit. Let alone something so big." Rebec gave a cautious smile. "I'm glad you know, then. I always wanted to be so strong, and I thought I was, but you're right that it was too much for me to carry alone all this time. It's an emptiness no one can describe." She moved up so she could put her cheek against his, wanting to feel his arms around her. Voice muffled, she said, "You make everything better, Baldur. I couldn't bear to lose you. Don't you dare leave me." She turned to kiss his cheek and ear, and suddenly longed to be with him, if only to reassure herself. Taking his hand, she moved it to her breast and slid closer to him, bringing her kissing around to his mouth. Baldur wanted to mention the dream to her, but this moment was just too good. He was glad to see that even without the dream, whether it was real or not, things between them would still be as good as always. Baldur thought about breaking away to mention his late night encounter with the dead, but the tingling in his stomach from her touch made him powerless to do so. As she continued to kiss him, Baldur whispered in her ear. "Remember what I said back in Falkreath when I returned? No force on Tamriel, Nirn, Mundus and beyond will ever take you from me." Baldur felt the pain of the night before melt away thanks to the power of their love. They say time heals all wounds. Baldur would say love does it faster. When he and Rebec reaffirmed their bond, Baldur lay next to her with her head buried in his neck and thought to himself, And it's much more fun too. ***** Baldur woke up next to Rebec about thirty minutes later after the two dosed off. Now that the worst was past them, Baldur figured now he could attempt to tell Rebec about Toki. Baldur got up from his bed and started putting on his Nordic Carved armor as she slept. She stirred again soon after, and used the chamber pot, then went to the wash basin and splashed her face. As she did so, Rebec thought about the night before, and how everything seemed to be crashing in on her and hurting so much. There was still a little ache from thinking about Jala and talking about her, but now the blackness had receded and she even felt a little excitement that she couldn't quite place. When she thought about the potion in her pack, it dawned on her that it was because she wouldn't be taking that ever again. Not for a long time. Not until she had babies that looked like Baldur and called him papa and her mama, and grew up into strong little Nords. Rebec realized she'd just been standing there, lost in that intoxicating image, for some time. She started and began searching for something clean to put on. Next was Dawnstar, and her own family. Even on their worst days they were better than Toki's hag mother. And this time, Baldur would be with her. Baldur was putting on his cape, still thinking how in the hell he was ever supposed to start this conversation in the first place. Hey guess what, I saw your dead husband wasn't really going to work. Baldur recalled what "Toki" said about the Blue Mountain flowers and figured that would be the final test. Baldur was a little nervous to find out if those dreams of Sovngarde were real because of how outlandish they really were. But it was now or never and Rebec did need to hear what was said. When Baldur put on his cape, he sat back on the bed facing opposite of her now. "Hey, uh...Rebec. Remember what I told you about Fort Neugrad? When Lorgar almost killed me?" She made a face at mention of that name. "Yeah. After which he apparently carried me off like a sack of potatoes." Baldur stayed silent for a while, still not yet sure how to proceed. He was afraid that saying he spoke to Toki would upset her, especially if she thought he was making it up just to comfort her. Baldur decided to go off with the test first. If it meant something to her, then he'd say something. If not, then at most he'd found another romantic gesture and he'd keep it to himself for a while. "Rebec, lets take a walk outside for a bit." "Alright." She could use some fresh air. After crying so much the night before, her head felt like it was full of cobwebs. The main room was empty except for one man passed out at a table. He was apparently a regular or inn guest since the innkeeper had cleaned around him. A few Stormcloaks who preferred to spend their coin on drink than private rooms were snoring on pallets on the floor. It was a clear morning and there were only a few stray snowflakes falling. Morthal had looked depressing the day before, but in the sunlight it had some rustic charm. As she walked, Rebec slyly took Baldur's hand and laced her fingers through his, claiming him. She was always proud for people to see that he was hers. Baldur was a little annoyed that he didn't have normal clothes to wear every once in a while, especially on moments like this when Rebec felt good enough to hold his hand in public. Still, the act of holding her hands felt good, even if his gauntlets prevented him from feeling the warmth of her skin. The pressure from her grasp was still felt, which for him was enough. Baldur was looking for the patch of flowers that he remembered seeing before not too far off from the tavern, but he took his time, taking care to enjoy this moment as if it were his last, as Toki had advised him to. He and Rebec didn't just go out for a stroll very often just for the sake of being together. That was something he planned to change. Baldur lifted her hand to his lips and gave her a kiss as they continued to walk on. Rebec exchanged a smile with him. She figured this walk was because of what had happened, but it was a good result. The cold wind was starting to pick up now, but it of course wasn't enough to bother the locals or the pair. The cold air did wonders for Baldur's face, which still felt some of the weariness from the night when he slept with his eyes open. Baldur and Rebec finally came across the patch of flowers that he remembered seeing from earlier. Baldur's heart began to race in anticipation of Rebec's reaction, but he made sure not to make a big deal out of it. If she got no recognition from her afterall, he wasn't sure what he'd say to explain why he brought up Lorgar. Perhaps that he was thinking about what would happen with her if he did die that day and they never met...The thought made Baldur freeze momentarily before he snapped out of it so Rebec wouldn't say anything. Baldur let go of her hand to bend down near the patch of flowers, and he made sure to pick the best ones for her first. The wind was threatening to pull him away by his cape which was fluttering around, but Baldur paid it no mind. Standing up now while not facing Rebec, Baldur closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Finally he turned around and put the bundle in her hands, then placed some in her hair. "They remind me of the color of your eyes." Rebec watched Baldur while he was kneeling down by some flowers, but she soon turned to observe the morning activity in the village, and the mist rising off the marsh that came right up into town. When he presented her with the flowers, she stared at them a moment before she took them. It was what Toki had always said. Her eyes met Baldur's, and she thought she better not mention that. She was careful not to talk too much about Toki with him. It would gall her, too, if he talked about a former lover often, let alone if he'd been married before. Still, he always wanted to know what she was thinking. Maybe he'd come to regret that rule. "Toki used to give me these," she said quietly. "He'd say the same thing. I always thought, 'what am I supposed to do with flowers'?" Rebec laughed a little, as if she wanted to minimize the memory, though it made her sad to think that she'd disregarded the small gesture. With Baldur she would do better. Baldur couldn't believe what he just heard. Confirmation that his dreams were actually true. This was beyond amazing, but Baldur still couldn't quite believe it. Baldur had to take a seat where they were for a minute and he gestured with his hand for Rebec to do the same. "What...what if I told you that I already knew that? What would you say?" She appeared puzzled. "Did I already tell you? I'm sorry. You don't want to hear about me and Toki all the time. I'm probably just sentimental because we're carrying his bones around everywhere like some kind of creepy necromancers. But I like the flowers. Thank you, Baldur." "No, no. That isn't it." Baldur started rubbing his chin, thinking very carefully on how to proceed. "Rebec, think back to what I asked you in the room. About Lorgar and Neugrad. When I almost died. You read my journal, so you should remember. We talked about it briefly, but I don't think you put much thought into it. Being a dream and all." Her puzzlement deepened. "You thought you went to Sovngarde or something? Baldur, I know it seemed real, but you prob-" Suddenly Rebec stopped, and made the connection to the flowers. She hadn't ever talked about those flowers to Baldur. She hadn't even thought about them herself in years. Staring, she said, "Are you trying to tell me you saw Toki? He told you about the flowers?" Baldur laughed slightly at her reaction and said, "See? And you said us Bards lie about our stories." "What... I mean..." Rebec stopped, trying to digest it. "So you can just come and go from Sovngarde as you please? Gods, Baldur. That's quite a talent." She still couldn't quite believe it, but decided to play along. "What did he say? Does he know about everything here?" "Heh, that's what he said too. No I don't think I can go whenever I want. He said he was trying to contact you, but the gods gave him me instead for whatever reason. We...both hated that. At first." Baldur took a deep breath and went into the tale. Every last detail, including the harsh parts they had both said to each other. Even his threats, him pulling out the axe, his cruel words to the man and so on. He also made sure to tell her what Toki said about just wanting her to be happy, and him being glad she was happy with Baldur, but most importantly he told her what he said about Jala. The only detail Baldur made sure to leave out was the part about bards exaggerating. That little tidbit would forever remain between them. Baldur was watching the ground to concentrate and make sure he got every last detail right, so he didn't notice Rebec's reaction to everything. Finally once he explained how he and Toki made up and even accepted each other, he looked to her to see what she'd say. It was a lot to hear, and it sounded like utter bull shit to a sane man. But the flowers couldn't be denied. "So anyway, once Tsun sent me back, I woke up realizing I slept with my eyes open and felt a pain in my nose. I thought that was the proof until you moved around on me and elbowed me in the nose. That made me unsure again. The flowers was the final test." Rebec's eyes had started to mist up again, and while Baldur talked, she was looking at the flowers. There had been so much she'd wanted to tell Toki, mostly to say that she was sorry for being a bad wife. She'd treated her crew better than she had her own husband who just wanted to make her happy. The part about Jala made her want to lay down and weep forever, but it also lifted a weight off her shoulders. Even if Baldur had dreamt it all up in his poet's mind, or if Toki was making that part up to comfort her, it didn't matter. It felt true. You couldn't love someone that much and not have it mean anything at all. The hardest part to figure out was why- supposing all this had actually happened- the gods had brought Baldur and Toki together instead of letting her see him. Maybe there was something to the idea that Baldur had a tie to Sovngarde, because of his experience at Neugrad, that most people didn't have. They had Toki's bones with them and maybe that helped him find them somehow. After pondering this a while, Rebec realized that it was better this way. Toki and Baldur talking to each other had made them all part of each other and not just something from her past. Finally she looked up, and reached out to touch Baldur's cheek. "Thank you, my love. For everything." Baldur still couldn't quite wrap his head around all of it. Nothing that he said seemed to be out of place to Rebec. Considering Baldur never met Toki, that was the final confirmation he needed. Baldur put his hand over Rebec's while it rested on his cheek and thanked every god that he knew, even the Imperial ones that he was so blessed. "Thank you, for choosing me and coming back down to Falkreath. I didn't think I'd see you for a long time. I'm glad I was wrong. Now, what do you say we get off this ground and get ready to move to Dawnstar eh? It's not too far off. Let's go and get Mazoga and the others. I can't wait to see papa!" Laughing, Rebec stood. "You might decide old Rivka is Mother Mara herself after my pa gets done with you." Mazoga was herding Stormcloaks by the time they got back to the tavern, ordering them around like she was the general. "There you two are. Everything okay, Cap?" The orc's tone was casual, knowing Rebec wanted her privacy, but it was clear she was concerned. The admiral's smile removed all doubt. "Everything's grand. Let's get moving to Dawnstar." "I'll go get our stuff. And Toki." Baldur leaned towards Rebec and whispered in her hear. "Maybe now, you believe the tale about the nord with a tail?" Rebec laughed. "Not a chance. You're still a bard, Red-Snow." Baldur gave a fake frustrated sigh before chuckling to himself as he walked off to prepare their things to leave. Baldur was placing the mead bottles that Rebec left out in her pack when he eyed the potion from before from Mazoga. Baldur picked it up and stared at it for a while, wondering what Rebec would want him to do with it. Baldur knew that they were committed to a child, but at the same time he wanted the choice to always remain hers. With that thought in mind, Baldur kept the potion for her after all, and placed it in the pack before walking out with the bags and Toki in tow. Baldur was about to walk out when he saw his journal left on a nightstand. "Shit, almost forgot." Baldur grabbed the book and went to set off, when some papers fell out as he did from the point in his book that he marked by placing the Thalmor magic cloth in as a bookmark. Baldur bent over to pick up the papers and quickly read them: "Because you don't want to learn some magic so you can use the cloth, I'm sending you this little amulet that will allow you to summon Karsh. He will be able to deliver letters from you. The amulet is activated with fire and don't expect Karsh to arrive immediately as it will probably take a couple of days for him to fly to your location. I also expect you to feed and care for him when he arrives. And please try to be patient with him. W" "Karsh...that crow Witchie was playing with? Ah I remember that thing. Haha, that should be interesting to see. I think I'll keep that to myself until the thing arrives. Should be funny seeing Rebec's reaction...What amulet?" Baldur looked around to see if it dropped as well, but didn't see anything. He checked his pack to see if maybe it dropped into there, and sure enough a simple silver amulet lay right at the bottom of it piled under some mead bottles. Baldur took the thing in his hand and stared at it, curiously. He knew he didn't have any silver amulets, so this had to be it. But it was just so plain. He expected to see some runes or something. Baldur placed the amulet in his journal and took a look at the next letter: "I need you to do me a small favor. I need you to prepare to make Lorgar a wanted man and cut off his escape routes into and through Skyrim. I know he's planning something and I know it's bad for the Empire. So when I give the word you must make him wanted in every hold in Skyrim, 5000 septims for his head, the Empire will pay of course. I suspect he might try to make his way to Solstheim, so I think he would in that case try to board a ship to there, so make sure to get that information out. We both know he's dangerous so it's best if you don't take him alive. Remember his escape from Falkreath prison? W" Baldur's gauntlet hit his face pretty hard as he facepalmed himself and wiped his face downward. "Damnit, Lorgar! What the hell are you doing? We can't afford the Empire being weakened." Baldur put the letters back in his journal and placed it in his pack so they could leave. He'd talk about Lorgar with Rebec on the way there. Baldur walked out and gave her her pack, but he kept Toki with him. A gesture in good will. "Alright everyone, next stop is Dawnstar. Let's get moving! We should move faster with the cold cooling us down. Mazoga, lead the way."

Eduard Laenius- The Imperial City, Day Eduard waded through a small gathering of people, picking up a dropped ring on the ground before slipping through an alley. He then decided it was worthless, and slid it back towards the loud group of people as he turned a corner. Nobody has anything of worth around here. He continued to wade through groups of people, slipping in and out of view. As he walked, he began to think about Dawnstar. I wonder how much of this Liv buys. I mean, the story is solid. The alibi is there. But she's no fool. And I wouldn't be surprised if she doubted my story. It wouldn't be the first time I lied to her about what I was doing. And sadly, it most likely won't be the last. It's better for her to be left out of this anyways. He then refocused himself on his task. He was going to snoop around the Arena district to see if he couldn't eavesdrop some information. If not, he'd have to open up his contact list tomorrow, or tail the Grand Champion. In any case, he continued towards the Arena district. He watched a man and a woman walk past him, smiling as they walked with interlocked hands. His mind drifted towards Dawnstar yet again. Ahh, Karita. A fine specimen, that one. I really should have sealed that the first time. I won't drop the ball next time the opportunity arises. Women that fine don't come around all too often. Especially ones that are actually nice. Or intelligent. I'd even keep her around just for the food. She's definitely on the "to do" list when I get back. He continued on, finally reaching the Arena district. He slithered from group to group, picking up whatever information he could. "Did you see that last match?" "No, I missed it because of the family. Was it good?" "Good? It was fantastic! The guy from the yellow team nearly decapitated his opponent with a mace! What a swing!" "Oh of course! My wife always makes me miss the best fights! 'Oh your wasting too much gold at the Arena! You've got a problem dear!' Oh shut the hell up ***** is what I'm saying." Eduard didn't gain any information from that conversation, but did get a much needed laugh. He pressed on. "I saw the Grand Champion yesterday!" "Really! Where at?" "Uhh... at the inn." "Oh really? What was he doing there?" "Uhh... Buying drinks?" "You idiot. You suck at lying." Yeah he does. Eduard listened in on people for about an hour, before deciding there wasn't any useful information at the moment. He was exhausted from the long trip, and was eager to get some sleep. He would turn up the search tomorrow. For now, he was going to find a place to stay.

Rebec, Baldur Morthal Evening As the small group of Stormcloaks approached the cabin, the woman chopping wood outside stopped and squared herself in the path, holding the axe at ready. “What do you want?†she called out in challenge. “We’ve got nothing here, move along.†Rebec held up her hand for the others to stop, then started forward again, letting Baldur know with a hand on his arm that he should accompany her. “Thora, it’s Rebec,†she said as she got closer. “Rebec.†The woman sounded surprised, and relaxed her defensive posture. “Where’s Toki?†When she got no reply, her brow knit in puzzlement, then her eyes fell on the cloth bag slung over Rebec’s shoulder. Turning, she called back toward the house, “Mama, Rebec’s here!†An older woman was already looking out from the door of the house. A thin line of smoke rose up from its smoke hole into the already grey sky. A few chickens poked around in the yard. Though it was well kept, the place had a sagging, decaying look, as if it would all fall into the marsh at any moment. Rebec glanced once at Baldur, then continued on to the house with Thora following. Baldur already could tell that he wouldn't like the mother. She had a look about her that said she got along with no one and loved to criticize everyone and everything. He could already see why she and Rebec were at odds. The older woman, Toki’s mother, watched with a scowl as she approached. “Rebec Red-Eye. Not even drunk by the looks, isn’t that a wonder. Where’s my son?†Baldur's brow knit at the comment. He was spot on. But it wasn't enough to say anything. “Rivka, I’ve come with bad news.†said Rebec. The woman’s mouth worked a moment. Finally she said, “I expect you’d better come in.†The inside of the little house was as mean-looking as the outside, though a little fire burned with a stew pot bubbling over it. Toki’s father, thin and frail looking, was lying on a bed in the corner, but sat up as they entered. “Hello Finn,†Rebec said, smiling at him. When he returned her greeting in a reedy voice and extended a hand, she walked over and took it, bending to kiss him on the forehead. Rivka had been watching her like a hawk, but finally turned her eyes on Baldur who in turn was watching her. “Who are you?†Before he could answer, Rebec did it for him. “This is General Baldur Red-Snow of the Stormcloak army.†This made the woman’s eyebrows fly up in alarm. Morthal had been easily taken in the war, but that hadn’t been the end of its troubles, as armies criss-crossed back and forth on their way from the tundra to the Reach. No group of soldiers was a welcome sight, no matter what banner they carried. “Never mind that, Rivka,†Rebec went on. “Like I said, I have bad news. Maybe you ought to sit down.†“We’re Nords just like you and don’t need coddling. He’s dead, isn’t he?†“I’m afraid so.†The younger woman, Toki’s sister, let out a little cry of anguish, and Rivka breathed hard, leaning on the chair in front of her. The father’s face fell but he just sat on the bed, otherwise motionless. After a moment, Rivka motioned towards the bag Rebec carried. “Is that...?†At Rebec’s nod, she started shaking, and then she had to sit down. There was an awkward silence, then Thora put a hand on Baldur’s arm. “Please, sit down. Let me get you two some mead. Rebec, sit.†She bustled around the little room, sniffling, and brought them both cups and bottles of mead, then laid out a platter of cheese and bread. The whole time Rivka sat silent, no tears in her eyes, and not seeming to see anything in front of her. When everyone was seated and settled, the older woman lifted her eyes and looked at Rebec with a malicious glint in her eye. “Did he run off somewhere with you, and you only thought now to come and tell his poor mother?†Rebec’s mouth clenched, and under the table she put a hand on Baldur’s arm warning him not to say anything. Baldur looked to Rebec with a warning glare. He'd follow her lead, for now. With forced calm she answered, “It wasn’t like that. He died in the Reach. The jarl covered it up, so I didn’t know anything until I went looking.†She told them about the poisoned wells and how she had found out where to look- not mentioning details about Samuel or why he had produced such information- and about how they had found the body. A few times during the narration, Thora let out gasps or exclamations, but Toki’s parents both listened quietly. When there was nothing left to tell, Rebec fell silent a moment, then said, “He died a hero. I’ll make sure everybody knows it.†Rivka’s empty expression began to twist up, and she burst out with contempt, “You make sure you tell them how you drove him out there in the first place! Don’t you dare try to tell me what my son was, Rebec Red-Eye! As if you would know! Running off to the gods know where and whoring yourself out to whoever’d pay to keep your precious ship running.†Thora had started to cry, and said, “Mama, don’t.†Rebec just sat silently. Color had risen in her cheeks, but she didn’t say anything. Rivka wasn’t done. “I told him. Time and again, I told him. If only he’d find a nice girl to settle down with and be happy, someone who didn’t think she was too good to mend his shirts and cook his meals. He should’ve stayed here at home and made a life for himself. That was no life, what he did. No life at all.†She had begun to cry in hard, bitter tears that didn’t soften her expression a bit. Still, Rebec sat, letting Toki’s mother pour out her anger. "Watch your mouth, woman." said Baldur. He could feel the blood start to rush through his ears and face now in his growing anger, but he tried his best to suppress it. "I understand you are grieving but I won't tolerate you bad mouthing Rebec. She's not a whore and she didn't sell herself for the ship or otherwise. You don't know what you are talking about." Rivka turned her venomous expression on Baldur. "What'll you do, bury that axe in my head and rape my daughter when I'm gone? We heard what happened in Whiterun. You know nothing about this, either, so stay out of it." The sister had been watching them. Wiping her eyes, she looked at Rebec and said, "This is your man now, isn't it." "He's my husband. I know how it looks." She turned to Toki's mother. "You and I never saw eye to eye, but all that's in the past now. I can't change the past and I don't care to change your mind about me. I just wanted you to know what happened. If you want, we'll bury him here, or I can take him home to Dawnstar." Rebec remembered something, and went to her pack. The women held their breath as if she might bring out a skull, but it was a leather toolkit that had been in Toki's pack. "Here are some of his tools. He must have lost the others, running from the ambush. And here's his amulet. I know you gave it to him, so you should have it back." Rivka stared at the items on the table and finally picked up the amulet, a simple engraved flat stone with a weak enchantment. She was lost in her memories for a while, then put the amulet down. "You go on and take his body with you. We had little of him in life and even less in death. No grandchildren, and nothing to do with these anymore. I hope you live to see the day, Captain Rebec, when your own child breaks your heart and stomps on the pieces." She turned to Baldur. "And don't you think, you with your fancy weapons and important title, that you can keep her any more than my Toki did. She's a bad seed, this one. Loves the drink and the wild living more than her own kin, and taught my son to do the same." "Rebec, you ought to leave," Thora said quietly. Baldur stood up from his chair now in his anger. The gloves were coming off and he didn't care who he pissed off, not even Rebec. "First of all, it's ADMIRAL Rebec. Second of all, you don't know shit about me, my Rebec and you know even less about your own son. Your son came to Rebec. HE was the husband. HE was the one that decided the relationship would be the way it was. Rebec would tell you it was both their faults, but she is wrong. Toki didn't hold on to her. HE wanted to roam, and you can bet your ass he'd tell you that himself. Rebec didn't force him to do anything. You think I don't have the right to talk about this, well you most certainly don't have any ******* right to talk about me or our relationship! I actually care enough about her to hold on to her. You sit here in your house safe from Thalmor torture because of my sacrifice! My men's sacrifice! REBEC'S sacrifice! All of you owe me and her your lives and then some." Baldur made sure that all of the people in the room could see the venom in his gaze before returning his eyes back to Toki's mother while pointing a finger straight at her. "And you! You owe me eight soldier's lives personally for recovering your son's bones you ungrateful bitch!" Rebec cursed under her breath as Baldur began his tirade, but she didn't try to stop it, just stood up and retrieved the bag of bones. Even an armed man or woman would have been intimidated at the general's shouting, and it was plain in their faces they thought they were about to be split open. Thora was pale as the grave and shaking, and her mother looked frightened at first, but she was a Nord and not about to grovel. Standing, she pointed a trembling hand toward the door. "You get out of my house, the both of you! I never want to see your face again, Rebec Strife-Bringer. Take this husband of yours and leave us alone." The admiral ignored Rivka and turned to Toki's father, who thus far hadn't said a word. "I'm sorry. Truly, I am. You know I loved him, even if I wasn't the daughter you wanted." The man's eyes watered. "Leave," he said in a thin, hoarse voice. Rebec took a shaky breath, turned and grabbed Baldur's arm. "Let's go." Baldur made for the door with no regrets for anything that he said. He'd be damned if he was going to let anyone disrespect Rebec, his soldiers or him after all that they'd done for Skyrim. Grieving mother or not. Baldur let Rebec go through the door first. He was about to close the door, but he poked his head back in to say one last thing. "As Rebec said, your son died a hero. Keep that in mind next time you start talking about how disappointed he made you. You think Rebec didn't deserve him? YOU don't deserve him and you never did." Baldur slammed the door shut before she could give a retort, not that he thought she would. Or could. Baldur had a headache now, but he could feel the blood recede from his face as he finally started to calm down some. He averted his eyes for the moment from Rebec since he wasn't sure how she'd take what just happened. Rebec was pale, and at first didn't say anything. She was about to speak when the door opened and Toki's sister ran after them. "Wait! Rebec, wait. I'm so sorry. I know you and I have had words, too, but you're right that it's all in the past. Don't go away thinking badly of us. It's been hard these past years, wondering. We didn't know if Toki was dead or just staying away." The admiral's expression remained stony at first, but finally she softened a little. "It was the same with me. I should've gone after him sooner, but with the war..." "Is it true what they say? You lead the navy now, and you stopped the Thalmor from invading?" Rebec glanced once at Baldur. It didn't sound believable to her ears, either. "Sort of," she hedged, turning back to Thora. "I do lead the navy." "That's good. That's real good, Rebec, I'm happy for you." The blonde woman hesitated, then said, "I hate to ask, with everything... Rebec, Papa's real sick. I don't think he's going to live through the winter, and we're out of coin for potions. He says it's just his time, but, could you spare something?" I might have known. Now Rebec was getting angry, the sting of Rivka's words still echoing in her ears. It was clear they didn't want her as family and never had, but were happy to take from her like family. She was going to refuse, then thought of Finn and how frail he looked, and the fact that he had to put up with Rivka day and night. The family had never had much, and she now had military pay and a fancy house in Solitude she never even used. Reaching for her coin purse, Rebec hesitated and looked at Baldur. It was his coin now, too, not just hers. Baldur didn't say a word. He was thinking the same thing she was about the nerve of these people, but he had no need for the coin either. It had touched him, however that she looked to him before giving it, even though he wouldn't have said anything if she didn't. He had forgotten that they shared everything now that they were together. Baldur nodded his head in Thora's direction with his arms crossed. He was going to stay silent, but he felt that he needed to add something. "Know this. The coin isn't given in guilt. Rebec is a good person and is too nice to refuse one in need. She deserved better. She deserves better." Baldur didn't say exactly what and that was intended. Husband, mother-in-law, etc. It went without saying. Thora looked at Baldur wide-eyed, expecting him to start yelling again. She didn't reply until Rebec deposited a pouch of coins in her hand. "Thank you, Rebec. Your husband's right. You're a good person. Gods keep you." The woman paused, then kissed her hand and touched it to the cloth bag over Rebec's shoulder. "Goodbye, brother." After that Thora returned to the house and Rebec looked back to Baldur. "That went about like I expected," she sighed. Baldur had half expected her to start yelling at him and was surprised that she didn't. "You ask me, it went better than expected. I don't know about you but I think that woman needed to hear those words. Let's get out of this cold and go get a tavern room. We can talk there if you feel like talking. You already know I do." Subdued, Rebec nodded and didn't say a thing all the way back to the village. At the inn, Mazoga was sitting around a table with some of the Stormcloaks, sharing pints of mead. She got up when she saw the general and admiral return. Pulling Rebec aside, the orc spoke in a low voice. "I went to the alchemist in town and got you that... you know." Mazoga handed her a large potion bottle and took the coins for it. "Don't get drunk and take too much. You know how that ends." "With my guts on the floor. I know the drill." Rebec glanced over to where Baldur was paying for their room. She stashed the bottle in her pack and rejoined him. Baldur was still feeling the effects of his headache and wanted nothing more than a good tankard of mead, but the old Redguard tender was busy talking to another one of her patrons, a mercenary about a bounty for a giant with a red braided beard by the Jarl. Baldur knew immediately who this was and thought about saying something, but decided against it. The man was fully outfitted in steel plate armor but he stood no chance regardless. Baldur leaned on the counter and started rubbing his forehead when he noticed from the corner of his eye Rebec and Mazoga talking. It was only unusual because they looked like they were trying to keep what was said under wraps. Baldur put his hand over his face as they looked at him, still rubbing his head, but cracking his fingers open just enough to see Rebec slip a potion in her pack. Baldur nonchalantly looked away from her direction and back to the tender once Rebec came around and finally was able to give her the coin and go to their room. Baldur didn't plan on mentioning what he saw just yet. It could be nothing at all. Baldur grabbed Rebec's hand, forsaking the mead momentarily and pulled her to their room. Once they were in, Baldur waited to see what she would say first. Not mentioning the potion, Rebec put her pack and the bone bag down and sat on the bed, propped her forehead on her hands and rubbed at her temples. She couldn't stop hearing Rivka's words in her mind. The trouble was that they were things she'd told herself in one form or another. That's what made it so hard to hear someone else say them, when she already felt low. Looking up, she tried to force herself to be cheerful for Baldur's sake. "Don't you want to eat something? Drink some mead? It's been a long day and tomorrow will be another." "I'm fine Rebec. You know I just want to know what you're thinking." said Baldur as he sat on the bed. She shrugged a shoulder, feeling helpless. Then she thought of Baldur's outburst. At the time she'd been upset about it, but now she smiled a little. "You got ol' Rivka good." Her tension easing, she laughed, though her eyes also misted over with tears. "Thank you, Baldur. I doubt we'll be invited back for dinner, but I know why you said all that." "It wasn't just to defend your honor by the way. What I said was a hundred percent true. Even the parts you probably didn't like, like about Toki. I'd been holding that back for a while now. Telling myself he just cared in a different way. There's no such thing. But that's in the past now." Baldur outstretched his arms for her to come and embrace him. She slid over and hugged him, then turned her face to kiss him, a shy little peck. Staying close, she leaned her forehead on his and said, eyes downcast, "What Rivka said was true, too. I never thanked you, did I, for pulling me out of that prison cell. You're more than my man, Baldur. You gave me a chance to be something. I'd always been trying to do that on my own, but it didn't work out so well until you came along." Baldur's face turned stern now and he grabbed Rebec's chin to face him. "What she said wasn't true, Rebec. Regardless of what you think, Toki came to you for a relationship. He's the husband. Marriage is a partnership, but the man has a responsibility to keep his wife from the elements so to speak. That is why you don't need to thank me for things like that, although I do appreciate hearing it. And you were younger too. I don't hold any hard feel-, no I can't say that. I can't pretend not to feel anger for a husband that didn't keep you protected from the world. Who didn't keep you from a damn skooma den when your ship was wrecked. No, his mother was dead wrong, you hear me? Dead wrong and so are you if you think otherwise. And you most certainly were not a whore." Rebec smiled sadly. "Sometimes I'd like to see the world the way you do, Baldur. That's your love talking. But you're right, it's just my guilt talking through me. The truth's somewhere in the middle." She pulled back from him, sighing. "Toki wouldn't have said all that like his mother did, but it wasn't his responsibility to change me, either, you know that. We both made the bed we were lying in." "Change you, no. But he could have made the attempt to hold on to you. Tell me, honestly. If Toki for instance had you travel with him, or he traveled with you. Or he got a home and had you stay with him. If you two were in any situation where he was with you day by day, can you honestly tell me that you would have wandered?" She thought a moment. "Probably not. But I didn't want to be tied down like that, either. Or that's how I saw it, anyway. Someone always asking me where I was and what I was doing. I loved Toki, but I wanted to be let alone, too. So I thought." "Well then in that scenario you two would have ended things like they should have been and realized you weren't ready for marriage, or you would have grown out of that eventually. Either way for better or worse for the marriage, him holding on to you would have lead to a better result. I suppose I should be glad he didn't but I hope you see my point. Maybe you won't agree now, but you'll see. You say you want to see the world as I do?" Baldur stood up from the bed and pulled Rebec in front of the long mirror in the room with him standing behind her and his arms over her chest wrapped around her shoulders in a hug. "This is the world as I see it. If you can't see what I see in you, then look at me and see how I look at you. Should give you a better idea." Baldur gave Rebec a kiss on her neck once, then her cheek before resting his chin on her shoulder while holding her. "Even if you still can't see it, know that your opinion of me is the only one that matters. Even above my own. Because you are my whole world. Is it not the same for you?" Rebec held his hand, playing with his fingers as they both looked into the mirror. Her expression was thoughtful. "Have you ever felt like that about anyone else before?" Baldur lay silent for a while, wishing to take the question seriously for Rebec's sake. To be honest as he had wanted her to be. "There was one who I could have grown to maybe like. Maybe even love. But I wouldn't give her the time of day because I didn't want to risk it. Sort of how I was trying to do with you, but you I couldn't ignore. It's different. I suppose part of it at first was simply not being with anyone for a long time. Maybe I just couldn't take being lonely anymore, but I could have picked any random girl from the street. That or go back to the woman and see if she still wanted to work things out. But I didn't. I chose you, even though I didn't know you as well. Fate chose for me, and she chose right." She smiled and nodded, then turned to face him. "I felt it with Toki, or thought I did. I was young, but he and I had big dreams, too. I love you Baldur, you know I do. It's just hard for me to be rosy eyed when I'm carrying around the bones of the man I once said words with. I've changed, though. A lot of things are different with you and me. I'm not going to let you go." "I know you won't. You try and I'll still be hanging on to you for dear life. But as you know I love to hear you say these things anyway." Baldur smiled briefly, but then looked at her straight in the eyes with unwavering conviction. "I'm going to be blunt. I realize you had feelings for him. How could you not have? He was your first. But with respect to him, he had his chance and we know how it ended. That's why his bones don't bother me. Besides, he's in Sovngarde remember? Please don't hold back from me. You know what happens when you try. If I need to, I'll have Mazoga hold onto them for a while. The more I hear you express yourself, the happier I feel. Learn to let go of that mental block that keeps you from saying everything you wish to say. I want to hear your words unfiltered." Rebec's soft smile turned playful. "You're trying to turn me into a gods damned Breton. Then what'll you do with me?" Laughing, she put a hand on his neck and pulled his face down to hers. "Shor's bones, you make me crazy. I can't even have a good sulk." She kissed him again, more fully this time, then pulled away before they got any further and had to make a night of it. Stepping over to the table, she cracked open a bottle of mead and her eyes fell on the pack where she'd stashed the potion bottle. Rebec stared at it a moment, then put down her mead. "There's something else we need to talk about. Something you should know." Avoiding his eyes, she said, "Since we've been... together, regular like, I've been taking the lady potion again. I don't figure you'd mind since we're soldiers and all, but I don't like hiding things from you. So that's that." She took a swig of mead, ready to close the topic. "Ah, I was going to get to that. I'm glad I didn't have to ask you about it first. I saw you and Mazoga." Baldur didn't wish to sour the mood, but it was either now or never. Baldur turned around from her, not wanting her to see his expression, which was slightly hurt. "So. You don't want my baby. Is that it? What if I asked you to stop taking it?" Rebec gave him a sidelong glance, expression skeptical. "Don't be like that, Baldur. A baby's a big responsibility and in case you haven't noticed, you and I've got a few of those already." "I think we can handle it. Plus with a baby, we can get more leave time. Much easier to make the excuse. I'd be right there with you every step of the way." Baldur turned back around and got to his knees by Rebec with his hands resting on her lap. "Look at me and tell me you wouldn't like a little Rebec running around. Or a little Baldur. Think about it Rebec! A baby! You, me and he or she. We'll be a real family, finally." "Baldur, what are you doing?" Rebec said softly, brushing a hand over his cheek. "Maybe we'll get to do that. Someday." She looked away quickly and took a swig of mead. When he didn't move, she turned back and gave a nervous laugh, pulling on his arm. "Come on, get up. We've got so much on our plate right now, and you know the Thalmor aren't really gone for good. Just put it out of your mind and be happy with what we've got." "Rebec, someday may never come if we wait too long. I'm already thirty nine. It will only get harder and harder as the years go by. Haven't you ever thought about it? I picture us on the ship. Sailing away to wherever. You, me and the little one, looking at the beauty of the sea as the sun rises in the morning. Us against the world. The Red-Snow family. Me a father, you a mother. Doesn't the thought of a little one calling you mama do something for you?" Baldur stood up and pulled her up to him and held her close. Close enough to feel her breath on his face. Baldur spoke in a low whisper in her ear. "I know you, Rebec. I know you want a baby. My baby. Our baby. Our child. Doesn't the thought of us having a child together just make you melt?" Rebec thought of the dream she'd had in Falkreath, the little boy climbing on rigging and calling her mama, then the sight of Lorgar drawing aim on Baldur as he walked toward them. She clutched the fabric of Baldur's tunic, eyes pressed closed. Then she pushed him back firmly. "It doesn't matter what we want, it's what has to be. This isn't a world for that kind of life. Not for you and me." Passing a shaky hand over her forehead, she said, "The Thalmor. Samuel. Gods know what other enemies we've got out there. You'd bring a child into all that?" "Then if that is what you are worried about, we should never have a child. The Thalmor will likely not be fully dealt with in our lifetime. Samuel, I'm not sure. Not in the immediate future. There will always be dangers out there. The ancient nords faced them all together. It made them stronger." Baldur once again stepped to Rebec, putting his hands on her shoulders as he massaged them and whispered in her ear. "I won't make this easy for you, Rebec. I know you want to...If what we wanted didn't matter, I'd have never married you in the first place. Look how great that turned out." "No." She said it quietly, but in a forceful tone. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Just put it out of your mind. I'm sorry, Baldur." The raucous noise of the tavern crescendoed as she opened the door and walked out into the main hall. Rebec kept going, past the calls of the drunk or nearly-drunk Stormcloaks for her to join them, and out into the snowy darkness. Baldur ran after her immediately, not paying attention to the people watching him as he ran after her. The cold air kissed his skin gently as he burst out of the doors, but his running kept him warm. His breath trailed behind him as he called out to her. "Rebec, come back! What are you so afraid of?" His heavy breathing hurt with each gasp from the coolness of the air, but he was determined to run this way all night if he had to. When she heard Baldur calling after her, Rebec cursed and started running. Then she realized how foolish it was and slowed. She'd reached the edge of the village, near some rocky cliffs. When he caught up to her, she was kneeling, braced against a boulder. Tears had started to pool in her eyes, but she fought them back. Baldur's footsteps sounded behind her. Knowing he wasn't going to leave her be, she gave up fighting and the tears spilled forth. Lifting her eyes up to the moons, Rebec blinked as stray snowflakes fell on her face, fusing to the tears. Baldur was glad that she didn't make him run far, but he was more glad that having a baby didn't get that big of a negative reaction as to run all the way out of town. But it was close. Baldur couldn't believe that Rebec was actually crying and he felt hurt that a baby with him was so upsetting, but also that he caused this. But he couldn't let it go. Baldur got on his knees next to her and hugged her tightly, even if she didn't return it. "Rebec, this is me! It's Baldur, remember? Why are you so upset by this? Remember what we said? That we would talk about all of our problems, not avoid them? So talk!" Her eyes lowered and she took his hand, but said nothing for some time. Finally she spoke, her voice barely audible. "We had a daughter. Jala." Rebec's throat caught and she swallowed, trying to go on. She gripped on to Baldur's hand fiercely, as if she was now afraid he would be the one to run away. "She died. She was always sick, since the day she was born. We tried..." Her voice hitched and Rebec had to stop again, the tears coming harder. Baldur couldn't move, or think, and for a second he couldn't breathe either. Tears started rolling down his eyes now in full streams and his body started to shake. "R-.." Baldur tried to say her name again, but he couldn't. Baldur let go of his grasp on her now and sat back on the rock, staring at the ground. Wiping at her eyes, Rebec stared at the ground, making herself say the words. "She was three months old. We took her to the healer in Winterhold. She'd get better for a day or two, then start to wheeze again. She could never get her breath." Her shoulders shook with a sob. "We had to let her go. I couldn't bear to see her suffer like that. All those weeks I thought I was going to go insane, listening to her little lungs struggling to get air. Then when she was gone... The quiet. It was so quiet, and all I wanted was to have her back." Rebec put a hand to her mouth and the sobs came harder. Finally at these words, Baldur managed to open his mouth and say something. "So is that...why you and Toki were separated? Does his family know?" Drawing a halting breath to calm herself, Rebec answered, "They know. It wasn't the only reason, but after that we started drifting away more and more." She fell back and sat heavily against the boulder. After a silence, she started speaking again, tone mechanical. "I didn't want to be a mother. It seemed like the worst luck. We tried, though, both of us did. I was going to hire the ship out and Toki was going to try to set up a smithy. I was miserable. Then, one day... I don't know, maybe I felt her kick, and it was like a lever turned. I loved that little person inside me more than I'd ever loved anyone or anything." There was a long pause. "I'd stopped drinking as soon as I found out I was pregnant, but I don't know... before that... I can't help wondering." She put a hand to her face and hid her eyes, trying to banish the thought that something she'd done had caused her baby to die. Baldur scurried over to Rebec and squeezed her as hard as he could to him. Suddenly everything made so much sense, but it just made things hurt more that he never knew. "Oh Rebec, this hurts so much. This pain is worse than any amount of torture I've ever had to endure. The fact that I never knew. It explains so much, and the fact that those ******* sons of ******* knew about this! I want to kill that bitch, I swear! How c-" Baldur broke off in another short sob, then lowered his voice. "How could they treat you this way after that? You had this pain to yourself the whole time. It's no wonder things turned out for you the way they did. But you don't have to hold the pain alone anymore. I'll never ask you to have a child again. I promise." She held on to him and started to cry again. For years she'd buried everything, but being with Baldur had laid her raw. Some of her tears were for the baby, some for Toki, and some for both of them, who'd never found a way to get past everything and comfort each other or even make sense of it. It had been easy to tell herself she was tough and could just go on. She'd done that, but it was always there, as Rebec now realized. Grasping Baldur's arm, she said, "I want to. I'm just so afraid, Baldur. What if it happens again? But I want to. I never... she never got to call me mama." Baldur grasped her from behind her head and pulled her to him. "It won't happen again. This has made it painfully clear to me now that Fate meant for us to be together. Fate is an absolute bitch, but its the cards you and I have been dealt. Do you see? This is just another second chance that the gods have given you. As painful as everything that happened to you was, it all lead you down to this road. To me. It was one hell of a dangerous road for you to travel on your own, but I'm here now with you. I think it may just have been that you were too young, but that isn't an issue now. And we have access to Solitude's court mage, and I'll make sure our baby is as healthy as a dragon. Do you trust that? You trust me?" Half-turning, Rebec buried her face in his neck and held him fiercely. She didn't know anything but that she trusted and wanted him, no matter what they might face. "I do." Tilting her head, she kissed him until she had to stop to catch her breath and wipe her eyes. Then she sat against his chest, letting the pain recede. A bit of relief flashed over Baldur now. Despite the unbelievable pain they had just been put through, they were even closer than before. The final cuts were now applied to the gem that was their relationship. It hurt more than anything he ever experienced, but in the end it lead to this beautiful moment. If you told him they would be even closer the day before, he wouldn't have thought it possible. He truly felt like he completely understood her now. The way he saw it, things could only go forward and he would do whatever he possibly could to heal her pain. Baldur stood up after a while when his tears finally stopped and he held a hand out for Rebec to grab. "Come on, lets get out of this cold and let me take care of you. All this time you've been carrying this burden, now it's my turn. Let me carry you back." That went against Rebec's every grain to stand on her own two feet, but she nodded for him to do it anyway. She felt stripped to the core. Still she knew that it was a healing cut, letting free something that had been eating away at her bit by bit. At first it was awkward and she worried that she was too heavy, but he lifted her with ease. She then glanced at his face, shyly, wondering if he felt differently about her now, but the gentleness with which he carried her was answer enough to that. Laying her head back against his shoulder, Rebec closed her eyes. Baldur did feel different about her, but not in any negative sort of way. He just felt an even stronger sense to guard and protect her from everything. He knew that was dangerous, because he couldn't possibly hope to do that, but by Shor, he was going to try. He realized that was already what he was doing, but now it was completely different from before. It was so hard for him to explain even for himself. He felt so guilty for the way that he first judged her now, even more than he already did. He thought he knew everything about her before, but he didn't. Now, now he finally discovered what made Rebec who she was. Solved the puzzle. A puzzle that he didn't even know existed. When Baldur carried Rebec in his arms back into the tavern, everyone grew quiet and just stared. It was evident to everyone that both of them had been crying, but no one dared to tease them for it. Baldur looked to Mazoga briefly, figuring that she could guess what had happened, but then he turned his attention back to Rebec, safe and secure in his arms. Burrowed in his chest, cradled up almost like a newborn baby herself. So vulnerable. Even innocent. It was remarkable. Baldur remembered Toki's bones and realized even he didn't want to do anything around them now. "Barkeep, I'm renting the next room as well. I'll give you the gold in the morning." The bartender looked like she wanted to say gold up front, but the Redguard thought better of it and stayed silent. There was no whooping and hollering or whistling from the men at Baldur's comment either. They could tell it wasn't that kind of moment. Baldur made his way in the new room, but he still kept Rebec in his arms for a while before placing her in bed to rest. Closing his eyes even as he rocked around with her, still clinging to his chest. Warm, not alone. Safe.

Theodore Adrard The Laughing Fox Morning Theodore was fast asleep, his loud snoring almost disguising the knock on his bedroom door, and the subsequent knocks when he didn't immediately answer. Eventually the knocks became loud enough that he shook off the sleep, stumbling out of his bed. "Comin*yawn*g" Theo didn't bother dressing, instead opening the door with only his loincloth. The courier who stood behind the door immediately flushed red, the sight of the large and overweight Breton too much for him. He quickly handed over the letter he had in his possession. "Um, from your wife, milord," the nervous courier said. "Thank you," Theodore said. He reached onto the table near the door, and plopped the coin purse he picked up in the outstretched hand of the messenger, who promptly turned and left as quickly as possible, still scarred by Theodore's overweight image. The Breton General, on the other hand, took little notice of the courier and instead rushed over to the desk near the back corner, using his index finger to break the wax seal, which held his families emblem, a bull. Unfolding the parchment, Theodore began reading, not knowing what to expect. It read, Dearest Theo, Things are troubling here at home, though not in the way one would expect father has sunk even deeper into the fever. The priests and healers say that there is nothing they can do, and he has at most two weeks left. Already my brother-in-law has started his plotting, pulling his allies, which have grown since you left, and trying to consolidate as much power as they can. If they take power, the Empire's influence could be at an end in High Rock. Now, enough with the somber news. Captain Vette took care of the bandits, with Roland running off after him only a few days after they left. According to Vette, he preformed well, earning the respect of many of the guards. The way he tells it, his skills are rough, and could use refinement, but the basic knowledge to succeed is there. Apparently Cruttus has taught him well. Speaking of teaching, Nilesi continues to have problems with Roland showing up for his politics classes. Whenever you return you'll need to discuss that with him. Well, it appears I have to go. Someone must run things while you're gone. Love, Elayne Theodore leaned back in his chair, thinking over the contents of the letter. It seems things have progressed faster than I expected. We'll need to take care of those Independents, as them getting power would be awful for the Empire. Knowing Aleron, he'd sooner sell his wife to the Thalmor than lose his power. But I can't leave yet, I need to contact the Dark Brotherhood while I'm here. Hmmm, maybe I can use one of those feral vampires in the Bloodworks as a sacrifice, that wouldn't attract too much attention. That would work well. Maybe I can go with the Imperial Ambassador to Hammerfell, he should be leaving soon enough. His name is Gracchus, a general I believe. I'll need to speak to him about traveling together, which will be safer. Finished with his thoughts, Theo grabbed an ink quill and parchment before penning his reply. Elayne, I will be leaving soon, as I still have some business left to conduct. Tell Roland I'm proud, and he needs to go to his classes. I love you and hope I can see you soon. From, Theo Sealing it with his wax, he grabbed it an was halfway out of the room when he realized he wasn't dressed, so he ran back inside and threw on some street clothes before heading to the nearest couriers office.

Brutus, Endar Kvatch throneroom 12 p.m. "Umm, sir? Sir, are you okay?" The Kvatch guard stood at the door staring at the count of Kvatch for the better part of the day now. He was just sitting there with his chin resting on his fist, apparently very very deep in thought. He had not moved once the entire time. Finally the guard had enough and decided that he would go and see what exactly was so damn interesting to think about that he could possibly sit there that long to contemplate it. Not even women were that interesting to think about. "Sir, I'm sorry for raising my voice, but you're driving me insane! With all due respect, what could you possibly find so intriguing that you would sit there this l-" "Who are you talking to?" The guard's head shot up in an instant towards the hallway door in the back of the room where the sound had come from. The guard started stammering suddenly, as he couldn't believe what he was seeing. There were two Counts of Kvatch. One at the throne and one walking towards him now. "Wh- wh- who are you? Do you have a twin or something?" Brutus started to skip his way to the guard to see what exactly he was talking about. When he reached him, Brutus put a finger on his mouth and bent over to look at the throne as he stood to the right of it. "Hmm? Oh, I see you found my newest creation! It is my latest and greatest self-portrait! See?" Brutus pulled off another sheet like the one that covers his dining table and revealed the empty seat right before the guard, who now stood wide eyed in disbelief at how thoroughly his eyes were tricked. "Impressive is it not? Have you seen Master Endar? I've been wanting to train with him some more on this master illusion spell." "The wizard? I haven't seen him in two days. Just his servant girl every now and then. I figured that he'd already left, and she had decided to stay or something. I wouldn't blame her." As if on cue, Elara entered the hall from one of the side chambers, carrying a small sealed vial that contained some kind of dark yellow liquid. Ignoring the Count and his guard, she briskly strode to the opposite side of the hall and into another chamber. After the door had closed behind her, the guard looked at Brutus. "Want me to go ask her sir?" "Hmm, no. No need. I'll simply follow her. Endar doesn't like when she's late for a task and I'd rather not get the nice woman in trouble. Oh by the way, got your nose..." The guard rolled his eyes at the childish joke as Brutus reached for his face, but pretended to be entertained by it anyway for the Count's sake. "That's funny sir. Good o- aaaahhhhh!" The guard almost fainted at the sight of a bloody maggot infested nose in the palm of Brutus's hand. Brutus who was laughing hysterically quickly dissipated the spell for his sake. "Hhahahahahaha! Gotcha! Hahahahahaha!" Brutus kept laughing all the way to the hall entrance, giving the guard chills as he heard his insane cackling all the way down the corridor until it faded away. "I hate this damn post. Beats standing guard at some Chapel I suppose." *** Elara stood alone in Endar's chambers, still holding the yellow liquid. "Go on, drink it." Endar's disembodied voice could be heard across the room, near an alchemy lab he'd set up. "You're kidding right?" she said with a disgusted expression on her face. "It's really not as bad as it sounds." "I am not drinking some Daedra's pi-" "It's not just "some Daedra". Endar's voice interrupted. "This came from a Xivilai. They are among the most powerful lesser Daedra in existence. To even get this opportunity is something many Daedra worshipers would kill for... Come to think of it, some probably have." Elara folded her arms. "I am not a Daedra worshiper." It was impossible to see, but by now, Endar's expression had turned bored. He hated arguments that didn't get anywhere. "Of course, of course, but you're still going to drink it." A green ball of light appeared out of thin air, but Endar did not reappear. That's interesting. It's not and invisibility effect. It's a powerful chameleon. "Okay okay!" said Elara upon seeing the prepared spell. "You're lucky you pay well." Pinching her nose, the stewardess raised the vial to her lips and quickly downed its contents. Huh... Tasteless. She held up her hands. Seconds later, the color in them began to fade into a deeper and deeper transparency. After five seconds had passed, her hands and arms had become invisible, leaving nothing but a floating bottle in front of her eyes. "Whoa, hehehe. I could have some fun with this." She looked over to where she could see Endar's quill scribbling notes down on the journal at his desk. "Is that all sir?" she asked anxiously. She was ready to get outside and try out this "invisibility". "Hold on a moment. Do you feel any tingling or burning at all?" The girl shook her head. "... Well do you?" He asked again, slightly irritated. "Oh! Right... You can't see me. No I don't." "Strange. You should feel a shocking feeling in your stomach. Maybe it'll come to you later. You can go now. The effect should last about an hour. Come to me immediately if any side effects kick in. I need an accurate account." "Awesome!" Elara felt giddy. As a child, she'd always wanted to be able to become invisible and play pranks on people. Now, even though she was twenty six, she couldn't help but feel that same excitedness that a child feels when they finally gets something that they've been wanting for a long while. "I'll be outside scaring guards!" She turned for the door and almost bumped into Count Brutus. "Oh, hullo Count. Sorry, no time to chat!" She shuffled around him and ran down the hall, not wanting to waste a second of the vile, yet amazing Daedric fluid's effects. "Oh, I want in on the fun!" said Brutus as he cast an invisibility spell on himself before walking to Endar. "Hello Master Endar, are you busy at the moment? Need help with your experiments?" Endar finished writing, and put the book down. "No, but what I have been working on could be of benefit to you." There was a purple flash as he cast a dispel spell on Brutus, removing the invisibility effect. The Count was only visible for a moment however, as Endar quickly recast the invisibility on him. "Now tell me, what is the difference between the effect on you and the one on me?" "There isn't one, I assume." said Brutus. If Brutus could see Endar, he'd see one of the wizard's eyebrows go up. "Wrong. You saw just now that I am fully capable of casting spells without throwing off my effect. That can not be done with a typical invisibility spell." He looked at one of twelve hourglasses sitting in a row along his dresser. It was the eleventh one. As he looked, the last few grains of sand fell through, and seemingly on its own, the twelfth one next to it flipped over. Noon. Three minutes left if the last trial is any indicator. "I have not moved more than an inch since you entered the room, but if I were to get up and walk around, you'd probably see a shimmering effect. That is because l am not invisible. This is a strong chameleon effect. It is much more durable." "Ah, I've heard of this spell before. Sadly it's fallen from common use as of late. How does it work?" "I have the spell tome, but regrettably, it isn't here. It's in my home at the Imperial City. I can teach you without it, but it could take hours. I suppose you still want me to?" "But of course, assuming you have the time. Being able to hide myself and still cast spells would be immensely useful, even if I am slightly easier to see. Imagine...the chaos...." said Brutus, letting a deep smirk snake across his face. "This will make an idea of mine much much easier if I can master this spell. What level of difficulty is it?" "It depends on the magnitude." Endar stood up and crossed the room, over to his dresser. Other than his footsteps, the only evidence of his presence was a very faint wisp of an outline. It could be mistaken for a trick in the light, or missed entirely if one was not aware that he was there. "This is not the work of a spell, but of an alchemical formula I have recently discovered. To cast a spell that cloaks you this effectively, you would need to be nothing less than a master, and spend lots of time working at it. That may take longer than you'd like. However, I could easily teach you some weaker versions that you could have down by tomorrow. They will not hide your outline quite as effectively, but they will still hide you well. If you remain still, you will practically be invisible." "I can utilize that rather well. Then I can practice it on my own and eventually after some time master it. In the immediate future however, I will simply make do with the weaker versions." "Alrighty then. We will work on that the next time we practice spells." The dresser opened, and Endar's red worn out Telvanni robe hovered out. He stared at it for a moment. It was a relic to him, one that he'd been carrying for hundreds of years. The Telvanni markings were still as prevalent as they had been the day he'd left the house. Some day, He'd always told himself, I'll replace these. He had yet to do it though. Even though it'd been over two hundred years, Endar had never made the time. Endar put on the robe and effects, which vanished as soon as they rested on him without being held up. He then turned and looked at Brutus, who was still standing there. "So is there anything else?" Brutus put his chin in the palm of his left hand and tapped his chin under his bottom lips with his fingers while looking up at the ceiling. Thinking. He knew what it was that he wanted to ask, but he also didn't want Endar to guess what it was that he was up to. At least not yet. "Could you summon some of the creatures that you are able to from the Shivering Isles? A quick demonstration?" "A demonstration?" Endar's invisible eyebrow went up again, this time staying. "I could. Are there any specific..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the sand reaching a niche he'd put into his hourglass. "One moment please..." Three...Two...One. Endar looked at his hands. They were still cloaked. "Hmm..." He moved back to his desk and, without sitting down, began scribbling away in his journal again. Same dosage. Different effect. Temperature maybe?... No, I've kept it constant. It must be my own body that is the independent variable. Rate of heartbeat perhaps, or maybe my stress level. I'll have to do some tests on Elara for this in the future. Finally, after jotting one last note, he closed the book and looked back at Brutus. "I'm sorry, what were we talking about aga- Oh right, the Shivering Isles creatures. Yes yes, I can help you as soon as this spell wears off. I need to record the exact time that it does. Is there anything you'd like to know in the meantime?" Brutus started giggling like a little girl at the question. There was indeed a question that Brutus wished to ask. "There was a little interesting tidbit in the journal you gave me...something I'd like to test. Care to bear with me for one moment?" "Of course. Jeff pays me by the hour." responded Endar. Brutus thought for a minute to correct Endar on Jem's name, but then thought better of it. It would be funny to see him get it wrong from a genuine lack of interest in the man. Something Brutus didn't think he was accustomed to. Or perhaps he was. It would explain his need to come and bother people he apparently thought were "beneath him". "Okay then....do you like fishsticks?" said Brutus. It is important to note that fishsticks sounds like something else as well if you pay attention to how sticks is said. This was apparently key to the magical properties of the word that worked also as a dance, a state of mind and a greeting. Endar didn't quite smile, but the edge of his invisible lip did curl up a tad. The concept of the fishstick was one of the more interesting ideas that he'd found in his quest for knowledge of the Madgod and his Isles. He'd had to plunge deep into the depths of the minds of the more maniacal Isles citizens that he'd spoken with to learn what he presumed to be the truth behind it. It had more than one meaning, and use. It could range from a state of mind to a direct explanation of your very existence summed up in only a couple of words. "I'm afraid not." answered the wizard. "Do you?" "Why I love fishticks!" Proclaimed Brutus gleefully. He knew the meaning, but played along regardless, seeing as that Endar knew the meaning clearly and wouldn't subject himself to it's power. "Hmm, right..." Endar was skeptical, but he figured that it didn't much matter. "If what you say is true, many residents of Mania would claim that you are a male fish lover. Perhaps even a fish yourself. Though I doubt any of that is true of you. Actually, it's because of the emphasis on the-" Endar stopped talking when he heard a flash, and looked down to see that he was now completely visible again. He immediately looked at his hour glass. Three minutes, twenty four seconds longer than last time. For a third time, he wrote his findings in the journal before closing it and putting it into his bag. He then put on all of his rings, and grabbed his staff. "Alright, enough about the fishsticks. Are you ready for your demonstration?" "Yes, but are you sure that that phrase doesn't have some kind of power within the Isles? Perhaps somehow it has the ability to make you a homosexual fish. Or those words could mean something else entirely...or exactly what it sounds like, a joke. This is the realm of the mad after all. But I always saw Sheogorath as the kind of mad that had truth to it...but if he is the mad god, he'd reflect all kinds of madness...Perhaps...oh, right! Sorry. Please, continue with your demonstration." Brutus sat on the floor criss-crossed in anticipation for the demonstration. Endar gave a puzzled look when the Count sat on the floor of his chambers. Enough so that he forgot to respond with his own theories of the power behind the words. "You don't think we're doing it in here do you?" Summoning the beasts of the Isles in his own room could be problematic. For one, some are pretty large, and could knock over some of his things, and two, the wards he'd placed on the room could prevent them from reaching their full magical potential if that is what Brutus wished to see. "Oh, my mistake. I assumed you'd start with the...Dark Seducers....nevermind, to the throne room!" said Brutus, charging his way out and through the hall as he did. Endar followed close behind. Upon reaching their usual spot in the throne room, He stopped and leaned against his staff. "Now one of the first things you should remember about creatures from the Isles is that, no matter what they look like, they are in fact dangerous. The Dark Seducers, also known as the Mazken, may look attractive, but any one of them could easily rip the best four guards you have to pieces. Then there is the Gnarl, which looks like a simple twisted up dead tree, but is actually a powerful Daedra that can rapidly grow to be as large as a house. The Daedra themselves are a very good representation of the Madgod's unpredictable mind... Now, you read the book, what would you like to start with?" Brutus stuck out his tongue while he contemplated for a while, until he finally decided what he wanted to see first. "I would like to see one of the Madgod's Golden Saints! I think a conversation with one of them should be more interesting, seeing as how they represent his more Manic state, which is more like me than not, I believe." Endar nodded. "You would be surprised." With a red flash of his palm, a Golden Saint, also known as an Aureal, appeared before them. She stood a good head taller than most humans, even your average Nords or Orcs would not match her height. The Daedric woman wore heavy looking golden armor that would probably be very effective if not for the fact that it covered so little of her. If she hadn't been wearing the distracting armor, her most notable feature would be her eyes, which were a deep amber color, with almost cat-like slits rather than normal round pupils. She stood at attention, unmoving. Endar had summoned her many times before, and unlike the Dremora from last week, she had the discipline to remain quiet until words were needed. Brutus was all eyes at this point and wanted to be all hands...but he restrained himself. Barely. For the sake of research and to learn more about the madgod. Brutus walked up to the daedra, her breasts being on eye level for Brutus, and eye level his eyes remained, even while speaking to her. "Ah, a servant of my lord! Pleased to meet you! What is your purpose in the realm of the Shivering Isles?" She responded with a stern, no-nonsense voice, seemingly not even noticing the way Brutus looked at her. "The Aureal are the true and favored guardians of Lord Sheogorath's realm. We serve and protect our lord's citizens, and uphold his laws." Brutus finally took his eyes off of the bull's eyes in front of him and looked up to the Aureal, his face betraying his confusion. He was more confused than he'd ever had been in a long while. "Wait, wait. Aren't you the guardians of the land of Mania? You don't sound very manic at all. Or mad in any way really. You are a creation of the Madgod? Tell me, if you are a creation of the madgod, what is the "true" the meaning of "The Fishstick? I say true in a very loose way, since true has no meaning to Sheogorath. But what does it mean to you?" The Golden Saint looked at Brutus with a hint of annoyance on her face. Who was this mortal to question whether or not she was a creation of the Madgod? "The fishstick is beyond your comprehension mortal. I would advise that you do not pursue it further outside of the Isles." "Uck! NO! This cannot be! You are supposed to be an aspect of Sheogorath yet you are just as arrogant as the servants of Mehrunes Dagon! Tell me the Madgod isn't like this as well?!?!" said Brutus, his eyes pleading, begging for her not to confirm his fear. "How dare you question the Madgod's con-" Endar held up a hand to silence her before he spoke up. "The Aureal act as guards for your lord's realm, but they are seemingly saner, at least in most aspects, than his residents. They are unconditionally loyal to their lord, and if you were to point out a form of madness that they represent, it would either be too much conviction, or jealousy. They despise the Dark Seducers for the fact that they have the honor of guarding half the realm, and they look down on mortals because, unlike a Saint, they can gain Sheogorath's favor. The Madgod, like all Daedra, can feel jealousy, but he embraces it, and often twists it into something else entirely. Though no, he is not likely at all like the Aureal in personality. If one madman hears voices and is extremely paranoid, does that mean that Sheogorath is only that as well? He embodies ALL forms of madness, not just what you stereotypically think when picturing a madman." Brutus took in some deep breaths to calm himself. Putting a fist in front of his mouth, Brutus cleared his throat before continuing. "Ah yes. Pardon me. I just got my hopes up and expected his servants to be more like him. It makes sense that they embody a certain kind of madness rather than all like he. I myself said that the other daedra as arrogant as they can be emody madness themselves. Clearly he has seen this himself. This one just reminded me all too much of Jem. He himself acts as if he is so above me. As if he too could live forever. Perhaps that arrogance blocks something of his own. Some insecurity. But what? Hmm. No matter, you can dismiss this one. I'd like to see the Mazken now. If this one was not what I expected, it should be interesting to see what they are like. I'd expect them to be more "dark" as their names would suggest, but we'll see." Endar complied, and the Saint vanished back to the Isles, only to be replaced by a Dark Seducer, the guardians of Dementia. Her face looked less stern, if of course, you could actually get yourself to look at it. Her black armor, if it could even be called that, covered the bare minimum, exposing much of her light blue skin. It made the scantily-clad Golden Saint look like a knight in full plate armor. Other than the tiny dark pupils, her entire eyes were a piercing blue, with no white at all to be seen. She looked at Brutus, and unlike her Mainian counterpart, she acknowledged him first with a nod. Brutus began to laugh as he saw his silly mistake. Putting a hand over his face, Brutus said, "These daedra did in fact mirror the madgod after all. How did I not see? I should have waited to pass judgement til after I saw both! They are opposite sides of the same mad coin! I always say that we are all the same as maggots on the same level, which is in a way true, but certain beings do tend to think in a way that others like myself can't comprehend. Not that they are higher, just vastly different. The "Golden Saints" act nothing like saints at all, but in fact act like pompous assholes. Not much different from our priests and such that would deem themselves saints. This one I expected to be more forceful, oppressive. Like a "Dark Seducer", yet already I can tell this is not so. It is such a basic illusion, I should have seen it from the start. Together, they make up the basic concept of illusion. Being not what you expect it to be. And illusion and madness are tied together so well, it should have been obvious. Illusion distorts your concept of truth. These daedra do this perfectly by their misleading names and appearances. So simple. So, Mazken. What are your opinions of mortals?" "Depends on the mortal." answered the Seducer with a shrug. She seemed to think this answer was satisfactory, as she didn't go any further into detail. Brutus agreed with her. It was a satisfactory answer. The manor of which she answered was more than enough to get the answer he needed. "Ah, good answer! That is something you'd never hear from a dremora. With your shrug, I can tell that you have a sort of indifference to us. Not because you necessarily view yourself as above us, but because you are not threatened by us. As Endar said, the Golden Saints are jealous, not just of you, but of mortals as well because we can gain his favor on a level they never could. But that is likely true for you as well, yet you do not seem bothered by it. Why is that, Mazken? And is any of what I said accurate in your opinion? If so, why are the Saints so jealous but not the Mazken?" Endar watched with interest. For the most part, Brutus was spot on, however he was wrong about one detail that the Mazken would surely make clear. They may mask it differently, but they are every bit as jealous of the Golden Saints as the Saints are of them. Apparently, the two are constantly vying for their lord's attention. They crave it, and even fight one another over it at times. "We are not jealous of those stuck ups because we know that Lord Sheogorath prefers us to them." She didn't sound angry when she said it. In fact, she seemed happy to share these "facts" with the mortal. In Crucible, she rarely got a chance to speak with someone who actually wanted to know the truths about her people. "We are his favored warriors and servants, and are proud of where we stand, and so we have nothing to be jealous about. As for mortals, if one has earned our lord's favor, then they obviously deserve it." Brutus smiled a bit in admiration of the daedra. If the Madgod had a favorite, which Brutus expected he did not and simply enjoyed the conflict, he'd think it would be them. "I like you, Mazken. You and the saints are if you don't mind me saying, like two lovers with Sheogorath as the husband. But to me, the Mazken seem like the wife that knows her husband favors her, and for that does not show much jealousy while the saints are the maid that relishes in their temporary bouts together, but realize nothing will ever come of it. You both seem strangely sane, but in that regard you both are truly the embodiment of madness. I'd bet some would say the same of myself..." But what you don't realize is that Sheogorath uses you both all the same. Taking no favorites and having the best of both worlds. A bit of a sad existence, but the Mazken have the better of it. The Dark Seducer didn't answer, but she did let a little smirk cover her face before she was banished back to Oblivion by Endar. "Anything else?" asked the wizard. "I'm afraid the rest are far less pleasing to look at." "Just one more thing. So far I think I've learned something about Sheogorath after all. Something that I may not have quite expected. Some would say that the most powerful emotion that we have is love. Others would say love is a lie. Perhaps it is, but don't you see? This is why he chose to make the Mazken and the Golden Saints the way they are. Love is madness. Perhaps I should tr-, no. I already am in love. With him in a way, or madness and illusions. The Daedra Lords love themselves, an even greater madness, and those who are married? Ha! They are truly mad! I have great respect for those who would willfully subject themselves to such lies, or at least I would if they knew it was. Yes, I agree. Love is the most powerful emotion we have, because love is the greatest, and THE most universal form of madness! Lady Mara...I may have misjudged you....Anyway, there is one last thing that I would like you to summon..." Upon hearing the specific creature that Brutus mentioned, Endar cracked a smile. Unlike the Saints and Seducers, who were intelligent, this one wasn't. In fact, while it was every bit as unique as any other creature from the Isles, it did not stand out as one that he would expect Brutus to mention. Not first anyway. That is, unless he'd read about its unique and less known properties. He must have... If that's the case, this will be interesting indeed. Endar nodded slowly. "Yes... I can do that." Brutus cracked a deep deep smile, betraying his his emotions and likely revealing that he was up to something. But that wasn't exactly a surprise. At least not to Endar. Someone else, however would most certainly be surprised. "Time to get things into motion. Afterwards, I need to speak with you about something else. Then...then we can get things started." Endar nodded. This time, he was genuinely interested in whatever it was that Brutus had in store. He raised his hand and clenched his fist tightly, surrounding it with the usual magical red aurora. The creature Brutus requested appeared before them. As his gaze turned from the Daedra to the Count, Endar could see in the human's eyes that he was more than excited, he was downright giddy. But there was something else there. A confidence of sorts, born of knowing that you have just won a victory without even fighting. If Endar was right, then Brutus's plans were going to be straight from the book of Sheogorath himself, and even though he wouldn't admit or even mention it, Endar was now, for the first time, betting on Brutus.

Dales, Lorgar, Gracchus, Tullius, Catia, Milly, Imperial City, Afternoon, The chapel was quite spacious, and filled with rows and rows of benches. The floor was stone, and there were altar's to all nine divine located inside. Stain glass windows let the light shine in, causing a sort of ambiance only a church would poses. It was a beautiful building overall. The carpet in the middle of the room flowing towards the front was purple, with gold lacing. Abut half the pews were full, mostly with nobles and other important members of society, but there was quite a few legionaries. In the front pew, was Lord general Ceno, and High-General Tullius of the imperial legion. Tullius looked like he was going to die of excitement, "My Lorgar is getting married..." He said with as sniffle and smile on his face. Gracchus sat between Catia and Tullius, who sniffled like he was Lorgar's mother. He turned to his left to look at Catia, who was dressed in a blue silken dress with silver trimming. Gracchus wore his ceremonial armor, but unlike the standard gold and red his had a black body with red accents. His cape was the opposite, red with black. Catia noticed he was looking at her. So Gracchus began talking. "So, what do you think about having our wedding here?" Gracchus asked in jest. Catia smiled sarcastically. "Sure, only of you're paying." Gracchus chuckled, and responded to Tullius. "It is nice he found someone. I honestly never thought it would happen." "I thought he was going to marry some tough nord-woman from Skyrim or Solsthiem" Tullius said sarcastically. He wore the standard armor of a general, along with a red and gold cape. "Who would thought it was actually going to be a normal, and sweet, noble from court." "Heh, I'd hardly say anyone here in the Imperial City is normal. But she seems sweet, if somewhat shy." Gracchus glanced around nervously, looking over the nearby wedding-goers, who he decided were sufficiently lost in their own conversations. He lowered his voice, so much so it was barely audible. "What about the thing we discussed the other day? What have you discovered?" Tullius's glanced around, to see if anyone was watching, "I did some digging, I know quite a few officers in the Pentuilas Occultus, me serving as a captain in it twenty years ago." He double checked, looking around, "I was only given the phrase "Bloodwolf"." Gracchus nodded, trying to subtlety hide it from everyone. "Bloodwolf? It does sound like something Lorgar would create. But what does it mean? What is he up to?" "In the Occultus, we used a combination of a anything mixed with an animal to codename operations and orders. Like "Sea Lion". He's planning something, and this "Blood Wolf" sounds violent." "Knowing Lorgar, it will be. I think this wedding is the most non violent thing he's ever done. I just hope it doesn't hurt the Empire, this operation of his." Tullius laughed, before smirking mischievously like a child, he started to stroke his stubble, "There was his Yuri. Say..." Tullius said, his grin growing even wider, "I wonder if his very-soon to be wife knows about his strange tastes in literature." Gracchus laughed as well, thinking about Lorgar's books. "Undoubtedly so. Their first date was to a bookstore I believe." Winking, he said "Do you think he asks her to act out scenes with other ladies from the books?" Gracchus burst out laughing, the wink from Tullius setting him off. Catia also chuckled, having heard the last few parts of the conversation. "That wouldn't surprise me! He always has been a bit strange," she said. Gracchus added, "I've also noticed he gets a strange look in his eye whenever he sees two women nearby. Almost as if he's....fantasizing." "You should be careful around him Catia. Maybe he was "imagining" thinks when you talk to your female customers." Said Tullius coyly and jokingly, Catia smiled, and leaned out over to better talk to Tullius. "He can keep on dreaming, because that's never going to happen!" Gracchus laughed at the comment before saying, "Yeah, she doesnt even play out my fantasies!" "Hmmmm...." Said tullius, imagining something in his twisted mind, "I wonder what Gracchus fantasizes about." Tullius chuckled, before stretching out, "Enough, it's rude to talk so vile behind someones back, especially during the day of there wedding." Gracchus winked at Catia, and nudged Tullius with his shoulder. "Wouldn't you like to know! But you're right, we better not talk about Lorgar until he's here to blush and get all red in the face!" "I'm already here...." Said a polite, civil, and somewhat morbid voice, though it was tinged with friendly coyness. It came from the corner nearest to the trio. A man emerged from the shadow's, he was clad in a dark long coat, with silver lacing and gold colored buttons. Underneath, he wore the tradition ceremonial armor of the Pentiulas Occultus, grey and black, but with a wolf carved on. The man was the groom, and man of the hour, Lorgar Grim-maw, who had a friendly, and jokingly smile on his face, "LORGAR!?, Ummmm, Gracchus, Catia, tsk tsk tsk, making fun of Lorgar literature." Said a surprised, and pleading Tullius. "Hahahahahahaha!" Gracchus clutched his side, bursting at the seams seeing Tullius try and cover his tracks. "Oh, you have nothing to worry about old man. Look, he's smiling, so you know he's not mad!" He looked to Catia, before winking at her "Hmmmm, maybe Tullius is right, maybe i'm imagining you doing something dirty with the priestess over there?" Lorgar said, his grin forming into one of his trademark wolf-smiles. Catia smiled, before letting out a "Hmph." "You can keep dreaming Lorgar. And you too Tullius. What goes on in our bedroom is none of your business! Although I'm sure you would loooove to know." Lorgat shrugged, "Not interested, right Tullius?" he said, gripping his old friend's shoulder. Tullius nodded, before winking, "I heard, Gracchus calls in all the bar wenches, and him and Catia get it down." Lorgar sighed, "Your a pervert, you know that?" Tullius chuckled, "You know you love me for it..." Lorgar, took out a cigar from his coat, but before he could light it. The priestess in-charge shouted, "Heh, no smoking in the church." Lorgar, disapointdley groaned before putting the unlit Cigar back into his coat pocket. "It seems not even the man of honor can smoke on his wedding day. I guess the divines aren't too partial to smoke!" Catia said, with a light chuckle at the end. Gracchus nodded, and added "The status of duke doesn't seem to reach as far as grouchy priestess." "Dont even worship them, and i'm forced to oblige by there rules." Said Lorgar, in a slightly grouchy voice. He started to straighten out his coat, and his already neatly done hair. "Getting married, who would have thought..." "Especially to someone so unlike you," Gracchus said. "And what's that suppose to mean-" Before Lorgar could finish, he was interrupted by the priestess once again, "Attention guests, the cermonies are about to get underway in five minutes". Lorgar nodded to the trio before saying, "Wish me luck". And with that Lorgar rushed to the front of the church. Catia and Gracchus yelled in unison "Good luck!" as Lorgar rushed forward for the ceremonies. I'm glad he found someone. Maybe it'll keep him from continuing this Bloodwolf plot of his, Gracchus thought. Just as the cermony were about to began, Gracchus could hear "Good day your majesty" and the sounds of people getting out of there pews to bow. Empresss Dales moitre entered the front row pew from the left side, and took a seat beside Catia. She wore a red/white dress, and a gold emerald necklace. Her brilliant blonde hair was messy, as if she rushed to get to the church. "Hello Gracchus, good day Tullius." Said the young empress. Catia bowed her head, and greeted the Empress. "Good day your majesty." Gracchus bowed his head as well. "Your majesty. This is my fiancée, Catia, who owns the esteemed Laughing Fox Tavern." "Ah this is your fiancee?" Said the curious girl. The empress eyes turned towards Catia, and took in every detail on her face. Dales smiled, before gently taking her hand and kissing it softly. Her eyes were slightly...odd. "I am Empress Dales Moitrte. A pleasure" Catia took her hand away gently but in a way that suggested that she wouldn't allow it to be kissed again, as she too noticed the look in the Empress' eye. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Her eyes became slightly annoyed, but only for an unnoticeable second. She nodded happily before scanning the area in front, "Did I miss anything?" Gracchus nodded, then proceeded to explain the previous conversation. "Well, we discussed Lorgar's taste in literature, but nothing else." "Huh?" Dales seemed confused. Tullius nudged Gracchus's arm, as if to say "dont tell her". Gracchus' cheeks reddened a bit, but he gathered himself. "Oh, he just loves books. You couldn't tell it by looking at him though." Tullius nudged his arm again, as if to say "Remember, what he reads is what she does." Dales chuckled a bit, she stretched out her arms, and started to fix her long blonde hair. "Well, looks can be deceiving as they say." Catia replied this time, smiling pleasantly at the Empress. "Yes, yes they can." Dales laughed soothingly, before winking at Gracchus, "General, you old dog... you never told me how...radiant your fiancee is." Gracchus sputtered, unable to think of something to say, but Catia was quick to reply. "Oh, he's just a little shy when it comes to talking about me." "I cant imagine why..." Dales said, with a slight flirtatious tone to her speech. "So, have you meet Countess Marella before?" Dales said, inquirous. Gracchus cleared his throat, still getting over the fact the Empress was hitting on his fiancée. "Uhm...erm...yes we, uh, met her at the Fox. And we also beat some men up for her, but that's not something I would like to get into..." "Oh, you beat up people for the girl?" She turned to Catia, before smiling coyly and saying, "You should watch your husband when he's around the countess, as should Lorgar." Tullius began to choke up in laughter after he heard Dale's say that. Gracchus turned redder than a tomato, his cheeks flushing and his voice leaving him as he floundered about, searching for anything to say. Catia jumped in, laughing just as loud as Tullius, but calmed herself to save her husband to be. "Don't worry, I'll keep him on a right leash, if you catch my drift," she said with a sly wink, acknowledging the last part was just jest. "Oh...I can assure you, I will be doing the same, keeping my husband on a very tight leash..." Winking at Catia. She glanced around, before whispering, "I think it's about to start." Gracchus sighed, glad to finally be done with the awkward conversation. His cheeks still burned red, but by the time the Empress whispered about the ceremony started, they were back to their normal color. As Dales predicted, the ceremony was indeed about to begin. The priestess once again entered and had told everybody to take there seats and cease the chatter. Lorgar himself waited nearby the shrines, tapping his foot nervously and impatiently. Finally, the large wooden doors of the church busted open, sending in rays of sunlight into the stone building. Countess Marella walked into the church, flanked by two of her "ladies-in waiting". She looked...much different then she appeared during the encounter in the fox. She didn't have her golden spectacles on, which made her eyes seem much larger then they were. Without them, her splendid Lapis Lazuli eyes shone like the waves of the ocean. Her face, which was downward and obscured in the fox, was a healthy peach color and revelaed to be highly attactive, with a bright and cheerful smile. Her hair, which was slightly messy and plain, was bright golden and was done in a medium length hair style, with two long stands of hair flowing downward in the front, while the rest was done up in a bun. The long dress she wore, was snow white, and embroidered with white, pink, red, and blue flowers. In other words, she was as different as night and day. Gracchus leaned over to Tullius, nudging him in the ribs with his elbow. "Is that the same girl from the Fox?" Tullius, who looked shocked, responded to his friend with, "No...damm...Lorgar scored big...is that really the mouse we saw at the fox?" Catia punched Gracchus in the shoulder, causing him to hit Tullius as well. "Be nice you two, and shhhh!" "Ouch!!!!" said Tullius before becoming silent. Dales, whom was silent and courteous , had an odd look in her eyes, she muttered along the lines of "Lucky Lorgar..." Catia smiled, laughing a little. "Yes, he's quite lucky." Millera continued to stride towards the front of the church, her long dress flowing at the back. She proceeded down the church with grace. As she finally neared her Fincee, who was smiling. The priestess began the ceremony with with usual prattle, and it contained for a good fifteen minutes, asking for blessing for the new couple from all nine of the divine. After awhile, and finally, the priestess said the words, "Do you, Duke Lorgar Grim-maw of Blackwood, take Countess Millera Queantis of Chorrol, as your wife?" Lorgar, cleared his throat and said, "I do" The priest turn towards Milly, before saying "Do you, Countess Millera Quentis of Chorrol, take Lorgar grim-maw as your husband?" "I do", she said. The priestess, muttered, "Then by the power granted to me by the nine divine, I name you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride." With those words, Lorgar leaned in and placed a passionate kiss on the countess, who blushed slightly, but returned it with equal passion. Gracchus stood, grabbing Catia's hand to pull her up as well. They began clapping, and soon everyone joined in. Gracchus let out a catcall whistle, aimed embarrassing Lorgar. Tullius and Dales stood up as well, and joined in the applause. Tullius winked at Lorgar, and along with Gracchus catcall, causing him to chuckle as he wrapped his arms around the countess, picking her up into his strong arms, and carrying her bridal style, which made her laugh and put her arms around his neck. Dales, winked, but it was aimed at both the bride and groom, causing both to blush at the same time. Gracchus grinned, so happy for the newlyweds. He looked at Lorgar and mouthed "Confratulations" before grabbing Catia's hand and holding it tight, brushing the back of it with his thumb. Lorgar, holding the countess in his arms, busted open the tall wooden doors of the church, while yelling "Party time!!!". The entire church followed him out except the priestess, Dales whom was up, whispered something into Tullius's ears, causing him to grin. She walked towards the shrine, intent unknown. Tullius who was getting up, told Gracchus, and Catia, "You people going to the party?." Gracchus pulled Catia by the hand into the aisle and yelled to the left-in-the-dust general, "I bet we'll beat you there Tullius!" "Bastard!!!" Tullius, despite his elderly age of 63, ran at very fast speeds, intent on catching up to the pair. **** The party was located in one of the many gardens of the Talos plaza districts. It was quite large, and filled with many different flowers, wooden tables, benches, drinks, food, even a pond. Everything a wedding party would require. Gracchus led Catia to the Talos Gardens, where he found a table near the bride and groom. Both were somewhat out of breath, Catia more so than Gracchus, and they waited for Tullius to catch up. Tullius was only a second behind, noticing the couple, he ran over to join them. "Bastard..." he said grouchily, though jokingly. He took a seat beside Catia and stretched out, "So...you going to tell your children that there mother was hit on by the Empress of Tamirel?" Catia punched Tullius' arm. "Shut it! She's just a young woman, plus she wouldn't have a chance in heck with a hunk like this." She grabbed Gracchus' hand, and he blushed slightly. "Young and confused right?" Tullius said, grinning while helping himself to a chicken wing. "She doesn't understand her feelings, and think she likes girls, right?" He winked, before tearing a chunk of meat off the wing. "No, I'm sure she's quite into girls, but she still thinks she has a chance with older women. Niavety is still strong in most young people," Catia said. She was eating a salad, while Gracchus tore apart the chicken wings as well, albeit in a more civilized manor. "Dales is much more, charismatic then most "young ladies"." Tullius finished the first wing, before going for a second. He tore at it with gusto. He turned his head towards Catia, before saying, "Five septims from you if Dales can land a older lady today, during the party." "Oh, a charming little wager perhaps? Unfortunately, I'm sure there are plenty of still impressionable older women here who would love to bed the Empress, so I'll decline your bet." Catia sipped her wine. Gracchus, listening to the conversation, decided to jump in. "She is very charismatic, so that bets in poor taste Tullius and you know it! Ohhhh the wings are good. And so is the steak!" "Steak?!" Tullius scanned for the table for the mead, not even bothering to acknowledge Catia's refusal, when he spotted it, he grabbed two of the largest ones, and began to devour the first one. He ate like a starving man. A shy-quiet voice interrupted the trio's meal from behind, it was the bride, Countess Quentias, "Hello..." She said, "Thank...you for coming to my wedding" she sputtered, with her eyes glanced downward. She looked as beautiful as she did in the church, and despite her quiet voice, her lapiz lazuli eye's shone bright. Gracchus cleared his throat, before taking her hand and kissing it lightly. "The pleasure is ours, countess. Thank you for the invitation, and as a show of good grace I would like to extend you and Lorgar the same honor. If you'll come, it'll be a private gathering at the Laughing Fox Tavern. And of course, this is my fiancée, and the owner of the Fox, Catia." Catia bowed her head slightly. "A pleasure to meet you. Might I add you look beautiful tonight. And congratulations from the both of us." She withdrew her hand lightly, and slightly fidgeted, as if to retreat from the attention. She said, in the same quiet and shy voice, "I...would like that very much General, and thank you." She slightly bowed her head to both Gracchus and Catia. "I...don't think I deserve your praise, I think I look quite bland" she said blushing slightly towards Catia. Catia waved her hand, dismissing the bland notion. "I only say it because it is true. Today is your day, and you look like a perfect fit for it." Gracchus nodded, backing up Catia. "Quite pretty. Oh, and Tullius, you are invited as well." "Thank you...for your kind words" Said the girl, bowing he head once again. At the mention of Tullius being invited, Tullius grinned, he talked with his mouth full of chicken "Between me, you, and Lorgar, I don't think there'll be enough Chicken wings at your wedding for the rest..." Catia replied to the Countess. "You are very welcome." She then turned to Tullius, and laughed at his comment. "Well you may just have to eat some steak than, huh?" "I'm sorry Catia, i'm afraid there might be no steak after Mister piggie over there is done with it..." Said another voice, which was slightly cold like usual, but also filled with friendless and warmth. The groom sneaked behind the old general, before putting him in a head lock, and giving him a nugee, "OUCH, OUCH STOP IT YOU BIG OAF" Tullius pleaded as he tried to escape the strong arms. "Leave him be," Gracchus said. "He just wants to eat every single chicken wing here! Congratulations on the wedding, Lorgar." Catia turned to look at the new husband. "I was just invited your wife here to our wedding, so I'll go ahead and let you know as well. It'll be at the Fox, and Gracchus will inform you if the date soon enough. We haven't decided yet. Also, even though she doesn't believe me, she is looking gorgeous tonight." Lorgar ceased his assault on Tullius's head, before nodding at Catia, "Ah, thank you, both me and Milly here will attend." He gently put his head,on her small shoulder, and hugged her from behind. "She's right you know, your radiant...". Milly blushed a deep shade of red. Just then, the assembled group could hear "Good day your majesty" and people rising from there seats. Dales ran over to the group before, nodding her head, and congratulating the bride and groom. She took a seat, besides the countess whom had now taken a seat, and helped herself to some salad. Catia and Gracchus both stood and bowed, with Gracchus saying "Your majesty." They both say down and went back to eating. Catia looked up from her salad, directing her attention to the Empress. "How is your salad, your majesty?" "Quite nice..." Dales said, with a smile. Tullius who was devouring another steak, grinned before saying, "Ah your majesty, how did it go?" Dales returned the grin aimed at Tullius, and said "Very well, my dear general..." Gracchus looked up, finished with his steak. "What were you doing, Empress?" Dales ate a few more leafs of lettuce, before addressing the lord general, "The priestess at the church seemed quite lonely by herself, and since I didn't want her to her daily prayers to the divine alone, I decided to join her." Dales winked, "We prayed to Dibellia together." Lorgar who was listening in on the conversation, started to choke up on his rice after hearing that, Gracchus burst into laughter at Lorgar choking, almost causing himself to choke on the wine he was drinking. Milly, started to tug onto Catia's shoulder, like a child, before shyly saying, "Why is the Lord-general laughing? What's so funny about her majesty praying with a priestess? Catia lowered her voice almost whispering to the Countess. "Well, our esteemed Empress, um...well she likes women, and Dibella is the God of sex and debauchery, so..." Milly looked at her curiously, before the dawn of realization hit her, "OH...I see...that's why my husband chocked on his food..." Tullius, who continued to grin, told Catia "Shit...if you just accepted the bet, I would have won..." Catia smiled, shaking her head. "Tsk tsk tsk...I don't believe the priestess was at the party dear general. The five septims would've been mine." Tullius continued to grin, "No...no...no...I said "during the party", not at the party. I would be the one with the five septims my dear..." Lorgar, who had recovered from his "Yuri-choke", cleared out his throat, "I dont think this is an appropriate discussion..." Gracchus laughed, waving his hand at Lorgar. "It is all in jest Lorgar. It seems Tullius would've won had they bet. Sorry honey." Gracchus planned a kiss on Catia's cheek, taking the sting out of "losing" the bet. Lorgar, feeling better, planted a kiss on Milly's lips, and saying "I love you." Tullius, who was watching the two couples, put his head to the table and whined "All alone..."

Skjari, Maggie Imperial palace Evening The instructions on how to use the scrolls were quite complex. Skjari had spent several hours figuring out what is and what is down in this magic. Now he felt that he was nearing a complete understanding but was still unsure about a few details. One of the moth scrolls lied on his desk while the other two had been placed at an empty spot in the bookshelf. The hidden liqueur storage was still open and the Divine fire bottle still littered the edge of his desk with the flame shaped cork lying besides it. The dragon statue was standing with one wing on the crystal and the head held high like it was on a lookout, it even turned it's head every now and then to look around for anything that could want to take the treasure it was guarding. Skjari himself was sitting behind his desk as he read the book, still only dressed in pants as he did not expect any formal visitors. Then he felt a presence walking down the corridor, it was Maggie's. And when she slowed down and stopped outside his door, he waved his left a little and the door opened on itself. But he was still so occupied with understanding the knowledge in the book that he forgot to tell her to come in. Taking the open door as an invitation, Maggie entered the wizard's study. She had changed from her "theater" dress to a more comfortable silk shift and slippers. "Good evening, Lord Skjari. I'm not disturbing you, I hope." Her eyes made a cursory glance at the desk and its contents, but she waited for his answer before inspecting anything more closely. A thump was heard as he closed the book and looked up at Maggie. "Not really, I could use a break from this book. It describes on how the scrolls work but does a poor job at explaining the basics." Maggie's eyes lit up. "The moth scrolls? So you've made some progress then." She came nearer, glancing at the book before her eyes fell on the little bottle of liquor and its unusual stopper. Leaning down, she laughed as she read the title. "Divine Fire! The riddle is solved. So our poor court wizard enjoyed the simpler pleasures and not just arcane curiosities. I'm something of a collector of spirits myself and I've never heard of this one. May I?" She gestured at the bottle, intending to sniff and perhaps to sample. He gave the bottle a quick glance. "It still got a few drops left so feel free to try it. But a word of caution: it's really strong." Maggie brought the bottle to her nose, then took a drop on her finger and tasted it. "Very pure. Not made by any distillery, this is alchemist work. A touch of wormwood. A scholar's drink to be sure, but more for clouding the senses than sharpening them. Perhaps old Milo had a sense of irony." She put the bottle down and stepped closer, laying a hand on Skjari's shoulder. "I wanted to thank you for the dragon. t was quite a surprise." "I remembered that you said something about that you've been looking for one my old relics. So I figured you would like it." He noticed that the dragon statue on his desk turned around and looked at Maggie with a slight suspicion, maybe because she was a little too close to the crystal or because she brought up it's predecessor. "As you probably already know; it was created to guard things." He gestured with his left hand towards the dragon which had taken a slightly more defensive stance over the crystal. "But it can also work fine as decoration. And I think it should recognize you as it's new owner so if ever want it to change stance and such, you should only need to tell it." "It worked as intended then. My brother tried to pick it up and it singed his precisely trimmed hair." Maggie laughed and looked over at the replacement. "Do you make them, then? I had thought it a relic from one of your past craftsmen." Skjari couldn't help but to smile when he heard what the statue had done to Maggie's brother. "I have a craftsman do the statue and give the details some polish myself with a little magic. Then I make the enchantment and give it life. Have a big one back home even." She looked back to him, wanting to ask where "home" was, but judged that would probably not get an answer. "In any case, thank you. He's precious." Leaning down, Maggie kissed the mage, a lengthy kiss with some heat. When he pulled on her, she fell into his lap and had to break off from laughter. Reclining on his lap and holding on to his shoulders, she said, "I'm not sure who was more depressed, the dragon at being sent away or Raine at being forced to be errand girl. You're terrible, Skjari. That was a torment for the poor girl." She smiled mischievously, obviously not too put out at the maid's problems. "Well I am a bad man." He returned the mischievously smile. If she only knew how bad... "What shall we do to punish you?" Her finger trailed along his cheek, and Maggie felt a stir of desire. She marveled at it a moment. So simple and innocent a thing, this flutter in the belly. Bloodlust was usually strong enough that she hardly noticed it, and the need to manage her illusions for the sake of controlling the encounter. In the case of monsters like Amaund, a simple desire to survive the night. She knew she shouldn't be here. Samuel's warning still rang in the back of her mind. It had only been hours since her confrontation with the hunters and learning that Darius intended to come to the Imperial City. That was exactly why she wanted to be here. Murmuring, Maggie said, "Punishment we shall leave for later. After I thank you properly for your gift." Rising, she swept aside the books and scrolls on his desk to clear a place for herself and perched on it, hiking up her dress and pulling him after her. The Divine Fire bottle fell over, spilling its last few drops onto the desk and clanking against its stopper. No one noticed or cared. **** A couple of hours later, none of them were sure on how much time had passed, they had moved into the bedroom and were now laying on the bed, Skjari was covered in sweat while Maggie appeared almost as fresh as when they had started. "That was... refreshing," Skjari managed to say as he was catching his breath. Maggie laughed and got up from the bed. As she threw on a nightshirt she said, "Your appetites are prodigious, my lord. I'm glad the maids are here to keep you satisfied while I'm occupied elsewhere. Are they trying to tame you? That type of girl usually comes to court hoping to find a rich husband." "I get the feeling that a few of them are trying. But I'm not looking for marriage, so they'll give up eventually." He paused for a couple of seconds to fully calm his breath. "I think the Synod and College of Whispers are up to something." She had gone to his liquor cabinet, rooting in it for something else interesting to try. Over her shoulder she asked, "Indeed? More than their usual squabbles over the table scraps?" "A Synod mage was here a couple of days ago asking for funding and that I returned to the Synod to help out with something, he didn't way what they wanted my help for and said that they would only tell if I agreed. I'd rather not get involved in anything I don't have any real clue about so I turned him down. Then the next day a representative from the College of Whispers came, and apparently judging by her looks and behavior it seemed like they had done some digging on my habits. She wanted me to leave the Synod and join them instead. Even if I turned her down as well, she was quite happy when she left. But I don't think both appearances is a coincident." Maggie apparently had found something she liked, and busied herself on it. "They're always scraping for patrons. Magical research is expensive and they consider it degrading to do enchanting work for the unwashed masses. Meanwhile the legion has been siphoning off recruits to serve as battlemages..." There's a pause and a blue flash of some spell being cast, then she came over to the bed holding two glasses rimmed with frost and containing a clear liquid with the bright smell of lemon and mint. Handing one to Skjari, Maggie sat in a chair opposite him and perched her feet on the nightstand. "I wouldn't worry about them. The state of magic in our poor empire is sad indeed. I have some spies in both schools, but the reports are dull. It would be a nice change if they actually were plotting anything. If you really want to have some fun, have the treasury do an audit of their precious baubles for tax purposes. They have warehouses of the stuff, some of them secret. Or they think that they're secret." She winked, adding, "The crown could use the funds." He took a sip of the liquid, it was quite good but he still preferred mead. "I remember when I trained my own battlemages. Battling across the southern border with elves while the kings of Skyrim bickered over who had the shiniest crown. Speaking of the southern border; apparently there's been a bit of lynching near the border to Valenwood, drunks accusing elves for being spies of the Dominion." "It's easier to blame Mer than to think your neighbor or your own family could be selling you out." Maggie paused before going on. "Are you concerned about violence against the elves?" "No, I'm only concerned about if it will cause too much chaos. I've told Dales that she should let the local regents handle it as long as it doesn't get out of hand. There's bigger things to worry about that than drunks killing a few elves." Maggie seemed to be about to say something else, but changed her mind. "This kind of thing can spread. Bruma is our most troubled county by far, but people use instability as an excuse to exercise their own grudges. The empire has been in a fragile state for a long time. Tensions have been buried so long that I fear we are only in a lull before they burst. I'll be honest, my lord. Dales being so young and inexperienced does not inspire confidence. The slightest sign of weakness in her court could incite much greater violence than a few hangings." "If things get worse, the Legion will get an exercise in how to handle riots." He drew a small sigh. "Sometimes I wish the Dragon Temple still existed. I could use a dragon to roar some nobles and other troublemakers back in line." "Dragons would help, but better if such a thing never comes to pass. I am worried about Lorgar." Skjari got a curious look in his eyes. "How so?" "You can't be unaware that he's on a bit of a vendetta against you. This is the sort of thing which topples governments. A strong monarch would keep order among her advisors even if it meant exiling or executing one of them. Dales cannot do that. She relies on both of you too much." "Lorgar is replaceable. And I have a feeling his time at the court is going to be cut short. The nobles don't really like him and a few have even raised voices about having him fired and stripped of his rank. Then there's the rumors, as I said, he doesn't even hide what he is." "Perhaps why he's moving so quickly to marry a count's daughter. It helped Amaund, for a while." Sighing, Maggie said, "I like Lorgar. The court shouldn't be boring, and he's devoted to Dales, which I find touching. He was never suited to this life, however. The killer instinct must be managed and his was let run wild for too long. If it could be turned loose on the Thalmor, so much the better, but here in the capital it is disaster waiting to happen. And I don't mind saying that for my own reasons, it is worrying if people believe that it is possible for a monster to become courtier." "Worried that people will catch on to you if they find out about Lorgar?" "I would prefer that the public believes such a thing impossible, yes. It's a reassuring illusion, so most people hold to it. Except those who see monsters everywhere. Perhaps Lorgar is the cleverest of us, for hiding his nature in plain sight." She whittled a moment on the frustration that she had hunters chasing her, a courtesan with little power of her own, while a werewolf close to the throne excited no such interest. There was no use dwelling on it. "You've met my brother. Soon my father, Darius Bathory, will be arriving in the capital. I'm not sure when. He will probably try to contact you, especially now that my family knows we are intimate." "How nice." He said with a voice was filled with sarcasm before going back to his casual tone with a slight hint of annoyance. "The only vampires I like to have anything to do with is those like you. I usually prefer if the others just stay away or dig their own grave." Maggie lifted a brow. "You are so negative against my kind? May I ask why?" "My conquest of Skyrim caused quite the stir and your kind didn't like that, so they opposed me. And they were dangerous enough to cause a large problem. Safe to say that they were hunted down and most of them lived hiding in caves or other remote places under my rule." He drew a small sigh. "Most of my vampire dealings back then have ended in bloodshed in one way or another." "Ah. Well, you see that we've avoided that sort of confrontation here, for the most part. Our unique gifts allow us to blend among the populace, but this makes us vulnerable enough that we rely on positive alliances if we can manage them. You needn't expect any such challenge from my father. He prefers to ruffle as few feathers as possible. I'm too much in the public eye for his liking, for instance. It's possible that he won't even try to contact you, if he's confident in the information he has about you from other sources." She wondered silently if Samuel had dealings with the wizard, but decided it was better not to bring up that name. Cautiously she went on, "It would be better if you did not let on to him that you know details about our family. I realize this puts you in an awkward position. Allow me to be blunt. He would kill me without a second thought if he knew I'd spoken about such things to anyone." "Quite the father then? Though don't worry, I won't tell him anything. I can even tell him that I'd prefer that any of my dealings with him go through you. As you know him better than I do." "Thank you. I know you're not easily manipulated or cowed by anyone, or I wouldn't have trusted you to begin with. As for being a true father, no. Though he may put on the guise of protective father if he thinks it could work on you. This visit means we'll have to put off our trip to the south for a time. I haven't forgotten," she said, smiling. "Perhaps we can combine business with pleasure, if you manage to re-activate the dreamsleeve protocols. The gods only know what is happening in the south now that the Thalmor have been driven out of Cyrodiil. Our border regions will be quite unstable and it's likely our agents are all either dead or moving. We'll never find them all unless we can get them to contact us." "I think I should be able to get the magic going by tomorrow. Only a few details left to figure out before I can start." "You may find Thalmor communications, as well. The Thalmor use the dreamsleeve, and some of our agents are placed to divert their missives to us. Of course there's always the chance it's disinformation. Could make for exciting reading. Or there could be complete silence, and that would be very bad for the empire indeed." She paused and tilted her head, regarding him thoughtfully. "You are a good court wizard, Skjari. Your coup may have done more for the empire than even the Medes were able to accomplish, whose hands were always tied by corruption in the Elder Council. Be wary of that nest of vipers. They hate and fear most of all those who don't need their power." "I've gotten a firsthand experience of their venom. One of the council members was quite nice and polite until his position in the Elder Council was secured. Then he started to make demands, threats and behaved rather violently when he wasn't in public. Luckily he got drunk and fell down some stairs. His corpse hadn't even gotten cold before his brother took his seat in the council." He sighed as he leaned back onto the pillow. "Sometimes I miss the old Skyrim, things were more straightforward and deep disputes were settled by the sword, often in duels. People here lack that sense of honor and pride. They prefer to stab each other in the back instead of openly challenge one another." He chuckled. "And now I'm homesick." "Ah, I do not like to hear that." Smiling, she put aside her melting drink and came to the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning against his chest. "I didn't find any of your relics in the markets- not that I could discern, anyway- but I did search some of my library and found a book of old Nord songs. Some of them were very old, and no doubt not even remembered in Skyrim anymore. I found them beautiful. It's remarkable that such a language so harsh to the ear can produce such lovely poetry. There's no musical notation, so you'll have to forgive if I improvise." Maggie sat up straight then and was quiet as she concentrated, trying to remember the words and the tune she had worked out. Slowly she began to sing, the words those of a woman saying farewell to her love as he went to war. Because of her accent, the sounds were rounder and more melodic than they normally would be. When she finished, Maggie smiled again and looked up at him. "Terrible, I imagine, compared to the bards of Skyrim." "Not that bad, and I think I remember the song from my time. Though it's vague memory as I didn't listen that carefully to what the bards sang. And if you find any songs about me, take them with a grain of salt. They're probably either painting me as the greatest hero of all or the cruelest tyrant to have ever walked on Nirn. Bards like to exaggerate in their songs." He sat up. "And now I'm really homesick. I think I'm going home to sleep in my own bed tonight." Maggie watched him as he rose from the bed, more curious than ever to know about this home of his. It crossed her mind to ask if he would take her there, then she remembered Samuel's warning and thought better of it. "I assume, by the casualness with which you say that, that you have some means to travel quickly? I wish you a good journey then, my lord." "You're not coming?" He shrugged. "One more round in this bed before I leave then?" "You would take me? I had not thought you would want an outsider there." "You will not be able to enter certain parts of my home, but yes, I'll take you there if you want." Maggie paused, considering. "Would we be gone long?" "Only for the night and a little bit in the morning. Then I'll take us back to this room." This drew her curiosity even more. Wasn't it important that they try to understand the Witch King's magic, even if only to know its extent? That would be the justification she would give Samuel, though Maggie also felt the little thrill in her belly again. Not arousal, but like it. To experience something wholly different, a small adventure... She stood, approaching him. "I will come with you, then. But I must ask one favor. I will need to feed, even in so short a time. Any mortal will do. A lone traveler, a farm hand out in a field." "I'm sure there are some of these 'potions' left in the home. You are not the first vampire I've bedded." He rose up from the bed and put his arms around her waist. "Relax." He said with a voice softer than she had ever heard from him before. This was no simple request. For a moment, Maggie had an image of Dales, and one of Samuel. Both of these sounded warnings. Is such a life worth its price... For better or worse, however, she had already decided. Resting her hands on Skjari's arms, she lifted her eyes to his. "I'm ready." For a moment everything went black, then the next second they were standing in a really large stone room, with the walls devoid of windows. In the middle was a large bed, big enough to hold several people, and instead of legs it stood on a large solid piece of oak wood with delicate and detailed carvings at at the sides with different ancient dragon and warrior motifs. The cover and pillows on the bed were colored black, red and blue and shared a similar motif. To the left the bed up against the wall were five huge closets a similar smaller one up against the wall on the left side of the bed. The rest of the outer rim of the room looked like some sort of living room and part dining room with small tables with candlesticks and and a few plates goblets, a few different board games here and there and drawers spread in between furniture. Though there appeared to be no roof on the room and instead the night sky could be seen seen filled with stars and some stripes of clouds. "Home sweet home," he said, sounding quite happy and a little relieved. Maggie was dazed for a few moments, and held on to Skjari's arm as she recovered her equilibrium. Her eyes moved around the room before she lifted her head and saw the night sky above. "Beautiful," she breathed. From the position of the constellations, she calculated that they were in northern Skyrim, though made no mention of that. It might be an illusion anyway. Glancing around at the bed and dining room once more, she said, "Are we alone here? You keep no servants?" "No servants. Though I can still use the creatures I 'created' to guard this place to fetch stuff for me. But enough about that, you want to try out the bed?" He said with a mischievous smile. Maggie turned back, returning his smile. "It would be a shame to waste the comforts of home." She pushed him back towards the bed. Still wearing the nightshirt, she lifted it slowly over her head and tossed it aside, then climbed astride and draped herself comfortably on top of him as they lay back on the bed. Brushing one finger along his cheek, she said, "You're an extraordinary man, Skjari. I've not met anyone like you in Tamriel." "I am one of a kind." He said as he brought his lips to hers for a passionate kiss. This, Maggie had no trouble believing. He was also insatiable, a trait she would normally find tedious in a patron, though the Nord was also more generous than any lover she'd had in recent memory. At a third round, her arousal began to turn to something else. At first even this was exciting, but when he began kissing her neck, the urge to make it a feral embrace became overwhelming. "Skjari," she gasped, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. "I'm sorry. I must... You said there are potions here. Please." The light in her eyes had also changed, from the geography as well as from her hunger. Distant from her clan's sources of power, they had the telltale red glow that marked out her kind in Skyrim, though faint. "Second one from the left." He pointed towards the five large closets. "Though you'll have to read the labels as there will be other kinds of potions. I only know it's a red liquid." She rose and went to the cabinet, hands shaking as she moved the bottles, searching for the right one. Opening it, she sniffed almost as she had with the spirits. It had a raw, meaty smell. Vintage Nord. At that point Maggie wasn't picky, and she took a long drink, closing her eyes as the vitality rushed through her. When she opened them, she glanced over the other contents of the closet- some clothes, a stash of mead, nothing out of the ordinary. She needed something to cleanse her mouth, so opened a bottle of mead and drank a little of that as well. It wasn't to her taste but would also do, in a pinch. When she returned to the bed, the glow in her eyes had receded to what seemed merely a healthy sparkle. She took the wizard's hand as he led her back to bed. "The comforts of home. It's nice to get a taste of Nord once in a while. Altmer and imperial are a bit thin." For half a second his facial expression got a hint of disgust. "We like to fight so I guess the blood reflects that." He said and then smiled a little devious smile. "How about finishing up before I go to sleep. Oh, and if you get bored at watching me sleep, there's a library if you head down there and turn left." He pointed towards the wooden door. "But stay away from the conjuration tomes." "You also eat a lot of meat. Thin fare, thin blood." She smiled at his invitation and began to kiss along his shoulder. "I would like that. To see your library, I mean." Moving lower, she let conversation alone, putting her mouth to other uses.