The Last March
Chapter One
Lucidius shivered in the cold morning air and pulled his cloak tighter about himself, but it did little to chase away the chill of his armor. His old Legion plates had lost a lot of their shine over the years, but it would have felt wrong to simply discard it. The Legion may have decided that he was no longer fit for service, but in his heart he was still a legionnaire.
He had served faithfully in the Imperial Legion for over forty years, and he would say that those years had been well-spent. Now, he was pushing sixty, but still felt like he had some fight left in him. He ran a hand over the remains of his graying hair and sighed. He had spent the last of his money putting together this one last expedition. He needed it to be worth it.
His mind wandered back to his preparations for the expedition as he marched up the game trail towards the camp, remembering all of the events that had led to him being where he was. It had started with rumors of some ancient artifact, resting atop one of the mountains in the north of Skyrim, near the old city of Winterhold. That fact alone made it dangerous for him to be here, especially in his Legion armor, as the entire Hold was controlled by the Stormcloak rebels, and the civil war was still in full swing. This being his last chance for glory, he had ignored the dangers and traveled north. He had intended to travel alone, but fate had had other plans in mind.
He had barely made it out of the city before his lifelong friend, from both before and during his career in the Legion, had caught up with him. Jo'Rakha was an aging Khajiit, just a few years younger than Lucidius himself. His pelt had once been a rich brown, but had since faded to gray. His eyes, however, still held the same spark of life that the cat had always had about him. Unlike most Khajiit, Jo'Rakha had been born and raised in Cyrodiil, and so had adopted Imperial speech and behavior, rather than the traditional Khajiit mindset. Lucidius had argued against the Khajiit joining him at first, but had given in fairly easily. Honestly, he was thankful for the company. It would be nice to have his oldest friend with him for this one last adventure.
Unfortunately, Jo'Rakha had not been the only one to join them as they left Cyrodiil. A young woman whom Lucidius had only met once or twice before had found them at the border and insisted on joining them. Arbell had been one of the Breton spellswords in the Legion, but had been discharged after recklessly getting an entire unit slaughtered in a border skirmish against bandits. Even before that, she had been carefully watched. Lucidius had never seen any confirmation of the rumors, but he had heard them often enough to believe that she was a necromancer. Even though there hadn't been a law explicitly banning the practice in decades, it still had a stigma associated with it.
He had never been fond of the woman, but he had been smart enough to keep his mouth shut. A good soldier never complained about the others he served with. That being said, the Commanders had every reason to kick her out. She was violently reckless and cared little for the soldiers under her command, even if she did get the job done.
As they had traveled through the city of Whiterun on their way north, they had come across a mercenary from Hammerfell who was offering his services cheaply. The man's name was Nachael. He claimed that he had once been a noble in the royal court of Sentinel, but the quality of his clothes was the same as every other mercenary Lucidius had ever met. He hadn't wanted to hire the man, but Jo'Rakha had insisted that they would need him. Even Arbell had been inclined to agree, though the way she had said it made her motivations questionable at best.
Lucidius had expected those three to be his only companions, until he reached Winterhold. The landscape had been a nightmare to navigate, the roads nearly impossible to find in the winter blizzards. Had it not been for a passing traveler who knew the area, Lucidius doubted that they would have survived. Later, at the tavern, they had bought the man some drinks as thanks and got to talking.
His name was Valund, and he described himself as a woodsman. To Lucidius' eyes, he was just another Nord drunkard. He was loud, boisterous, and did not seem to respect any sort of authority, including that from his own leader, whom he called a jarl. Lucidius had, once again, been against the idea of hiring the man to show them the way to their destination, but Jo'Rakha's insistence had made him cave in.
Even that had not been the end of it. A young scholar at the mage's college who had come down to the tavern for a night away from her studies overheard them speaking, and had wandered over, inquiring about the job. The young Argonian's name was Muz-Ra, and she was a self-proclaimed expert in restoration, while also having some skills in destruction. Her, Lucidius had welcomed with open arms. They would need a healer, if the dangers that he had heard of were not exaggerations, especially now that their party was as large it was. She had been the last he had talked to that night before heading to bed, but not the last before setting out the next morning.
As Lucidius rounded the last curve to approach the camp, he caught sight of Jo'Rakha standing guard at the trail head, his short bow and a quiver of arrows sitting at his feet. His greying pelt blended in expertly with the swirling snow. Lucidius nodded as he walked past, heading for the warmth of their fire. The other four members of the group were huddled around it for warmth. Muz-Ra was practically shaking in the cold, her mage's robes wrapped tightly about her, while Arbell was sitting comfortably a short distance away, sharpening her blade with a whet stone. Valund, claiming to be immune to the cold, was chopping wood in little more than a jerkin and trousers. Nachael sat silently, pondering the flames, his longsword resting across his knees.
Lucidius didn't know if he should reveal the identity of their last member. The only person in the group who knew of their existence despised them almost religiously, as would most of the others, Lucidius believed. Only Arbell, ironically enough, would probably be excited to learn of it. The person had come to him in the night before they left for the crack in the mountainside that should take them to the treasure. His memories of the night were fuzzy, partly due to being woken, and partly due to the mead he had drank before sleeping, but he did remember them not leaving until dawn began to break on the horizon.
They were camped only a short distance down the game trail to the black hole cut into the mountainside that would take them to their goal. Lucidius had spent months hunting down the information that should make him be successful, but nothing had pointed to an overland route. The journey was dangerous, there was no doubt of that. The journals and histories that he had dug up had pointed to traveling through an ancient Dwemer city whose name had been lost. Supposedly, there was a Dwemer construct within that would take them up to the top of the mountain, but the wording had Lucidius confused.
The journal had mentioned a city by the name of Aszlechtand, but then mentioned passing through a City of Night, whatever that meant. That the inconsistency existed had Lucidius worried, but he was not going to let that stop him.
"So, old man, when are we leaving?" Valund asked in between grunts as he worked.
"We leave at dawn. It took us most of the day to get here, as you well know," Lucidius answered shortly, "So I suggest you save your strength until then."
"Ach, I'll be fine. Besides, we need wood for the fire. Can't let it go out overnight. That will kill us as surely as any trap."
Lucidius shook his head. He wouldn't make it his problem that the man couldn't listen. He knew from years in service to the Empire that they had enough wood for the fire to last the night, but he wasn't going to waste his breath on trying to convince the stubborn Nord.
He took a seat at the fire and was promptly handed a bowl of stew. Jo'Rakha had managed to take down an ice wolf during the day's travels, and, while stringy, it actually tasted fairly good. No one spoke. For some, it was simply too cold. For others, they simply didn't feel the need to.
Before long, night had fallen. Muz-Ra disappeared into her tent to attempt to sleep, as did Arbell. Valund finally stopped chopping wood and retired himself to sleep as well. That left Lucidius sitting alone with the stoic Redguard mercenary, with Jo'Rakha sitting out in the snow, carefully watching the road.
"You should have told the Nord to return home," Nachael stated, "He has no place here."
"I couldn't agree more. I have no time for a man who refuses to listen to reason," Lucidius answered, "Unfortunately, the only way I could convince him to guide us here was to promise him a part of the spoils."
"Only a fool agrees to work for something that is not guaranteed."
Lucidius remained quiet at that. He had promised the Redguard his payment after the expedition. He had spent every last coin preparing for it and had nothing left with which to pay mercenaries.
After a time, Jo'Rakha came running into the camp, quiver over his shoulder and bow in hand. "Lucidius," he hissed, "Something is out there!" His eyes were wide with, not fear, but worry.
Lucidius had been expecting this. "Peace, my friend. I know who is out there. She will meet us in the morning."
The Khajiit narrowed his eyes and revealed his large canines. "She is here?" he hissed angrily, "Lucidius, you know what I think of her."
Lucidius sighed. Every time she came up in conversation, it was the same thing. "I know, my old friend, but I did not seek her out. She followed me here. I didn't even know until last night."
"And I would wager that you quite enjoyed the night," Jo'Rakha snapped, angrily sitting by the fire, laying his bow and quiver next to him. Unlike the humans, he didn't use one of the logs set next to the fire for sitting on. Instead, he lowered himself cross-legged into the snow. It was one of the few inherently Khajiit features he had retained, despite his imperial upbringing; unless he was in a building, he would not use anything resembling a chair.
"I'm afraid I can't argue that. I don't know why she took an interest in me, but she has. Her company has been welcome over the waning years of my career."
"Bah! You can't even begin to call it company! She comes to you at most once every five years, spends a few days toying with you, and leaves again! And you have wondered why you couldn't find a wife after the War. I tell you every time, it is because that thing twisted something in you!"
"Say what you will, Jo'Rakha, it is because of her that I am even alive! Those battlemages would have killed me outside the Imperial City had she not been there!" This was the one issue that could get Jo'Rakha to yell at him, and the fight would not be over until the old Khajiit had spoken his fill.
"And you seem to think that debt has not been repaid, and that it gives her the right to keep coming into your life!" Jo'Rakha was well and truly riled now. His hair was standing on end, surrounding his head like a mane.
"I think no such thing," Lucidius argued, "And it is my business if I enjoy her company, no one else's. That she has not gone to someone else speaks highly of me, I should think."
"And you can prove this? You know for certain that she has been with no other in the forty years since you met?"
Lucidius had to admit that he couldn't. But who was he to judge? It wasn't as though he had stayed chaste in the years between their meetings. "I'm finished with this argument, Jo'Rakha," he said, standing, "It is always the same. I'm going to bed."
"On your head be it," the Khajiit snapped back.
Throughout the entire exchange, Nachael sat silently.
