Prologue
Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, chose the road of a Witcher on the Path - she worked side by side with her old mentor, Geralt of Rivia until he taught her everything he knew and then they parted ways, they still do meet up from time to time, either drinking or chatting away merrily of their past deeds or what could have been. Even though she had refused the throne her father, Emperor Emhyr var Emreis wished to hand over to her - they still keep in contact, Emhyr wanted to show that even he could have a change of heart. Ciri wasn't about to easily forgive the things Emhyr had done in the past, but at least she was willing to work her relationship with her father. And her real journey was about to begin in the Nilfgaardian-occupied city of Vizima, it was in the Great Hall where she first heard about a foreign land with their own laws and races.
Chapter One
Ciri I
"Who are they?" Ciri asked her old-time friend and mother-figure, Yennefer of Venneberg. "They don't look like nordlings to me."
"They hail from a land called Tamriel, a vast continent that share our waters." Yennefer replied calmly, she too was curious about the foreigners. "Judging by their armor and the insignia on their cloaks and weapons, I am certain that they are members of the Imperial Legion - the fighting force of the Cyrodiilic Empire."
"There's an Empire?" Ciri was surprised, she hadn't heard about this before! She was always certain that they were alone.
"They have been around for a thousand years, long before even you or I came into this word. They normally keep to their own borders and we keep to ours, it is said that magic-users is a common sight in Tamriel, you can actually walk down the road and see a few mages performing their arts in full view." Yennefer sucked in her breath when her eyes caught the foreigners, five of them had brown hoods drawn up and the magical aura she could sense from them resonated past the records. "As I live and breathe...Imperial Legion Battlemages."
"Shhh!" Ciri planted a finger on Yennefer's lips. "I want to hear what they're saying."
"Your Imperial Majesty, I am Quentin Cipius, a Legate of the Fourth Legion under the service of His Imperial Majesty, Titus Mede II." The foreigner with no helmet or hood spoke in a clear but respectful voice. "I have come on behalf of His Grace to ask for aid. The Aldmeri Dominion has taken the Province of Skyrim from our grasp and our Nord brothers are fighting a losing battle against the pointy-ear bastards, in return for Nilfgaard's aid, we will grant you Imperial supplies, ships, soldiers and healers to help you in your conquest against the Northern Kingdoms." He stated loudly and awaited Emhyr's answer.
"If it's Nilfgaard's aid you require, then you shall have it. I'll dispatch a banner to follow you but in return for my army, I request the aid of the legendary Dragonborn otherwise known as the Dovahkiin, I have heard the tales of his valor and mystical powers. If he were here leading my men, victory will be swift." Emhyr gave his answer. "If Emperor Titus could send a Legion to aid us, that would be even better. But I care not for soldiers, I need the Dragonborn, I need his Voice." He stood to his full height. "It is high time that Radovid pays for his treachery by spilling Imperial blood at a peace summit all those years ago."
Quentin dipped his head. "I am sure General Marius will come to your aid, after all, his wife is a vampire and the only thing he hates more than witch-hunters are Redanians." A small wolfish grin came across the Legate's face. "And besides, like you said, he would enjoy tearing King Radovid to pieces."
Yennefer shrugged at Ciri's look. "I don't know much about the Dragonborn." She replied honestly. "Truth be told, only Triss knows about him. They've met a couple of times when the Lodge was still active, and that was before she became the adviser to Temeria's King." She straightened her robes. "Now if you'll excuse me Ciri, I must ask some questions." Ciri watched as Yennefer pushed her way past the nobles and towards the foreigners.
Ciri took a moment to digest what she heard before moving in to confront the Legate herself. "Excuse me sir," She spoke too loudly than she intended as all eyes turned to her, she ignored the stares from her father and a dozen Nilfgaardian soldiers and proceeded to fire off her questions. "Who is this Dragonborn? What did my father meant by the Voice? Why is he so important that everyone refers to him by his title?"
"We call him Dragonborn because of his role in ousting Alduin the World-Eater from Nirn, it is merely a title of respect, we didn't take his word seriously when he told us about the dragons returning from the dead. My superiors waved his reports off as superstition nonsense, but when a massive black dragon attacked and burned Helgen to the ground - they started to panic like the old fools they are. All across Skyrim landscape, dragons were returning to life, and doing the things that they do best. Burning houses and stealing livestock from the farmers. But Marius, the Dragonborn, he did not despair like we did. He showed no fear when we did. He fought while we ran. He bled while we cried. He did the impossible, rallying opposing sides under one banner and taking the fight directly to Alduin. We owe him our lives. We would have all died if it wasn't for him." Quentin explained slowly, making sure that the ashen-haired girl understood him.
"Understandable, than what about the Voice? What is it? A power?"
"Aye, a power bestowed upon him by the Divines themselves. Not everyone is born with the soul of a dragon. When a dragon is slain, he will absorb and steal their power and knowledge, gaining the ability to speak in the Draconic language. The Voice refers to the the Thu'um or a Shout. Marius spent most of his adulthood learning from the Greybeards atop the Throat of the World, the tallest mountain in the Province of Skyrim, the masters in the Way of the Voice lived in seclusion and rarely leave the mountain that their Thu'um could kill you with a single whisper. Normal folks might say that Marius is as normal as any other human being, but that thought is far from the truth, Marius is locked in an eternal combat with his dragon conscience, how he resisted the thought to dominate and rule all of Men and Mer is beyond me."
"Wait, let me get this straight." Ciri said softly, the truth about the Dragonborn was about to come clean to her. "If Marius were to give in to his dragon conscience, would he be unstoppable?" She dreaded the answer that Legate Quentin was about to give.
"Yes, he would be practically unstoppable." Quentin replied with a steely gaze. "Given his current power, he could easily unearth the entire continent and turn it to his own personal paradise, but he didn't. He can end this war with just a single whisper from his mouth, but he didn't. He doesn't like the attention, he just wants to be normal, and we respect his wish."
"And what about the Redanians?"
"That is his story to tell. Up to this day, only his family and the Emperor knows about the rocky history he had with King Radovid. But there is one sorceress I know that the Dragonborn met on this continent, I believe her name was Merigold. They worked together to uncover a plot that was set in motion in Velen, you can ask her if you wish, provided she's still alive." Quentin suggested.
"She is. She's an adviser to Kovir's King, living far away from the war front." Ciri stated with a small grin. "Thank you for answering my questions, now I know where my road lies."
"It is my honor milady." Quentin bowed. "If you ever find yourself in Skyrim, come look for me in Whiterun."
"That I will." Ciri gave a nod to the foreigner. She was rejoined by Yennefer shortly after.
"What did he tell you?" Yennefer inquired curiously.
"The history of the Dragonborn, turns out he's a lot like me. I found out that his name is Marius, and they call him Dragonborn out of respect for his deeds, you won't believe me when I tell you the things he had done to save not just their continent, but ours as well. He fights with his inner-self almost every day and he never once complain about being born with the soul of a dragon. He's been through a lot." Yennefer raised an eyebrow. Ciri frowned and swatted Yennefer's shoulders lightly. "Oh, he's already married, besides, I'm a Witcheress. I have duties to uphold."
Yennefer hid her growing smirk. "I'm sure you do." She sighed happily. "So what is your plan?"
"I'm not quite sure. Geralt's at Kaer Morhen - doing who knows what. Eskel's out traveling and has been ever since Uncle Vesemir's death. Triss, as you know is in Kovir. And don't get me started on Lambert, that fool is out riding across the country side with his wife, Keira Metz, in the midst of a war!" Ciri grumbled out the last sentence, not that she wasn't happy for the man. It was high time that Lambert settled down with someone, and her mind couldn't agree with anyone else other than Keira. An idea morphed in her head. "I know where my path lies now. I won't do any good in Vizima. I have to travel and there is only one place I can think of." Her eyes trailed off towards a distant banner with the insignia of a diamond-kite red dragon on a black background.
Yennefer followed her gaze and sighed. "You plan to sneak on board the ship bound for Skyrim." She said dryly.
"YES!" Ciri cheered, clamming a hand over her mouth when she realized that she had just shouted. "I mean...yes." She whispered softly.
"Fine. Only that I go with you." Yennefer stated firmly in her no-nonsense tone. Ciri tilted her head in confusion. "Let's just say that there are some skills that cannot be obtain anywhere else other than the Imperial City in Cyrodiil."
"Suit yourself." Ciri shrugged her shoulders. "I'll be 'leading' and 'commanding' father's army while you run off to learn magic."
"Very funny Ciri." Yennefer chided with a pointed look. She gasped when she heard a small cough behind, she turned around only to come face to face with the Emperor of Nilfgaard himself. She lowered her head. "Your Imperial Majesty."
"Yennefer." Emhyr spoke gruffly before turning to face his daughter. "Cirilla, I can't help but overhear that you plan to sneak on board one of the vessels bound to help our Imperial allies across the Great Sea," He raised his hand to stop her protests. "even though you chose to follow the Witcher Path, you are still my daughter, hence, you are still a noble citizen in Nilfgaard. I am sending the 4th Cavalry Army to the Imperial Province of Skyrim and you will lead them."
"Are you really willing to let me lead your army?" Ciri blinked her eyes. "Who are you? What have you done to my father." She pointed accusingly.
Emhyr surprised his daughter and Yennefer by chuckling softly. "You have your mother's mirth. And I am still the very same man. But enough of that, you will lead the 4th Cavalry Army and help General Tullius of the Fourth Legion to retake Skyrim from the hands of the worthless Thalmor. Show the High Elves the ferocity of Nilfgaard, let them know that Men are not to be trifled with, let them know fear or Men will forever be harassed and squashed underneath the boots of Mer." He nodded and brushed past Ciri and Yennefer, he stopped abruptly and turned back once more. "I have written to Triss Merigold and she has agreed to be your informer, she'll be sending you letters and notes about the current war in Skyrim and the future of our conquest on the North. Our armies will set out to Novigrad the moment the Dragonborn and Imperial reinforcements arrive, then we will ride to Velen and crush Radovid once and for all."
"Father...I.." Ciri started as she folded her arms. "How...how did you know the Dragonborn?"
Emhyr frowned as he recalled that fateful day. "It was about four years back when I last saw him. Marius, was his name. He was scouring Temeria, Redania and Kaedwen, going as far as the Blue Mountains. His traveling companion was Merigold and a small company of Imperial soldiers. If my memory serves me correct, it was during one of the many peace summits when Radovid accused him and his men for being trespassers and foreign spies, Merigold tried to say otherwise but the fool wouldn't listen and slaughtered the Imperial soldiers. In my entire life, I have never seen a man with powers such as his, I could feel the entire ground shaking and the air grew more colder as his eyes blazed a color of orange, the ground shook as his lips parted causing blood - Redanian blood to spill all across the courtyard of Loc Muinne. Like the gales of the Great Sea, he moved swiftly from one end to the other, his blade taking the souls of those that wished him dead, and on his other hand was a purple-orb which he used to summon strange looking creatures that did not hesitate to enter combat on his side." Yennefer's mouth fell open, never before has she ever heard of magic responding like that. "These creatures were massive in size and wore thick armor that broke many Redanian swords, their two-handed swords easily sliced through the thickest Redanian armor as if it was a mere butter. In a total of three minutes, Radovid was left standing alone - the Dragonborn could have cut him down where he stood but he didn't, he chose to spare Radovid's life and said these few words; 'There will come a reckoning where not even the mightiest and strongest knights in your Kingdom can save you from, and when that time comes, I will personally be there to see it.'"
"And he's about to get it." Ciri stated firmly. "From what you told me, I ask that you allow the Dragonborn to kill Radovid."
"That's what I intend to ask of him. I know he treats his men as dearly as he holds his own Gods." And that was what impressed Emhyr the most.
Frodnar I
Marius Maro, the General of the Tenth Legion, a devoted follower of the Nine Divines, the Harbinger of the Companions, the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, a patron of the Thieves Guild, a loving husband and father to two children and lastly the legendary Dragonborn. Stormed into his manor in Solitude in a fit of boiling rage, he stalked up the stairs and headed directly for his bedchambers, making sure to slam the door firmly behind him. His two adopted children flinched when they heard the door slam. The first was a Nord boy of age eleven, named Frodnar. His birth parents were massacred along with the entire populace of Riverwood by Thalmor Justiciars accusing the entire village to be worshipers of the forbidden Divine, Talos and thus burned the entire village for being heretics. He survived as his father had stuffed him into a bale of hay mere moments before the soldiers kicked down their door, he heard the screams and cries of the people he knew, smelt fresh blood and burning flesh. He was picked up by a Whiterun patrol wandering aimlessly around the ruined village - badly traumatized and on the brink of a mental nervous breakdown. Jarl Balgruuf the Greater summoned the best healers to tend to his wounds and treat his mind until he was able to travel again, he told the tale of how he became the sole survivor and what the High Elves did to the other villagers including Dorthe, a girl of his age. Not even the village Wood Elf had been spared. Balgruuf decided to sent him to the Orphanage in Riften where he would be with others of his age, but the Divines already had a plan laid out for him - for his destiny took an entire turn when the carriage he was own ran into a patrol of Imperial Legion soldiers requesting news about Riverwood. The second was Lucia, a Nord girl of ten, she lost both her parents and was kicked out from her home by her abusive relatives and left to beg in the streets of Whiterun when the word came to the Jarl's ears, Balgruuf likewise had her on the same carriage bound for Riften, and that was how she met her brother and father - and she didn't regret a single minute of it.
Frodnar sheathed his wooden sword, a gift from Marius during Saturilia last year. "Pa must have heard something real bad to get him so riled up like this. I've never seen him burning with rage." He whispered softly to his sister.
Lucia sighed deeply, lowering her lute which she was playing when her father came home. "It's too bad Ma went to see Grandma Valerica at Castle Volkihar. She's the only one who can talk to Pa when he's in his dragon mode." Just on cue, a cloud of bats swirled into their room before morphing into the shape of their mother, Serana. Lucia jumped off her bed and threw her arms around Serana's waist, taking the vampire completely by surprise. "Ma! Thank the Divines you're home!"
"Wha-what's going on here?" Serana inquired, returning the hug to Lucia while turning to her son for answers. Lucia released her hold and went to stand beside her brother, the two shared a look before they begin pushing and shoving each other forward, arguing softly in whispered tones. Normally, Serana would laugh at their usual sibling-rivalry and bickering with each other but this wasn't the case, not when her vampiric instincts told her that there was something wrong with her husband. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the duo. "Knock it off you two. Frodnar, if you continue pushing your sister, you'll be grounded for the next two weeks. And Lucia, if you continue bickering with your brother, I'll take away your lute for the next two weeks." The two immediately shut their mouths and mumbled their apologies. "Now, explain to me what in Oblivion is going on here? One at a time."
Frodnar gulped loudly. "Um...Pa came home in a fit of rage. Didn't say a word of greeting like he normally do and just stormed straight into the room and slammed the door shut behind. I haven't seen him this angry before." He spoke softly. "Can you please go check on him. We would have gone but we're afraid of...his temper and current mood." He glanced at his sister and saw her nodding in agreement.
"Pa has been acting like this ever since the war started." Lucia continued for him. "Not that we blame him of course!" She quickly defended herself. Despite her young age, she already knew the trials of warfare, of how many would not return to their loved ones and die fighting in some foreign land with no chance of seeing their home. "Pa always treats his soldiers as dearly as he holds the Divines." She lowered her head. "And his mood only darken since Uncle Ralof died."
Memories of Ralof's death flashed into Serana's eyes, she was there when the Nord fell. After the end of the Civil War, Ralof rejoined the Imperial Legion and was attached to the Tenth Legion, he survived countless of skirmishes with the Thalmor but on one fateful day, he was surrounded and cut off from the rest. The man was cut open and stabbed numerous times by the Thalmor soldiers, and she could do nothing to stop them, Marius had cried for several nights after laying Ralof to rest. She soon learned that Ralof was a close friend of her husband despite them being on opposing sides in the Civil War, the Imperials and Stormcloaks clashed many times during the war but not a single battle went by without the two avoiding killing each other, their bond was just too great that they had no intention to harm the other. When Ralof died, it was like losing the only brother he ever had, Serana had spent several nights comforting him - trying to get him to move on which he did. She shook those thoughts away and nodded grimly at her daughter's choice of words. She made up her mind and decided to find out just what in Oblivion had made her husband so mad. Telling her children to stay quiet and only come when summoned, she went into her bedchambers to find her husband staring out into the city square.
"Afternoon love." Marius greeted warmly, but one could easily sense the rage inside him.
"Afternoon yourself." Serana returned the greeting. Marius smiled sadly and returned to glance at the city. "What's troubling you love?"
Marius gave a frustrated sigh. "I've been ordered to sail for Vizima, to aid the Nilfgaardians in their war against the Northern Kingdoms. It would appear that our beloved Emperor sent an envoy to Emhyr var Emries to ask for help in defeating the Thalmor and the Emperor of Nilfgaard agreed in return for my help." He explained.
"Isn't that great?" Serana questioned. "You could go see your friend again. Triss, I believe you said her name was."
"Triss Merigold." Marius repeated and nodded his head. "It's not that I'm not looking forward to seeing her again, after all that we've been through in the short time that we've known each other. It's just..." He brushed his hand through his thick raven hair and shook his head. "...I promised Lucia and Frodnar that I will spent the holidays with them, and you know me Serana, I always live up to my promises. And now, I've been ordered to sail this Morndas."
"Well, let's find out what they have to say about this shall we?" Serana did not wait for Marius to reply before snapping her fingers, the door flung open causing a startled cry of surprise from two surprised children, she grinned and gestured them to enter. "After eight months of living under the same roof as me, you still haven't notice that as a vampire, I can hear even the softest of sounds and see through walls." Frodnar slapped his forehead at forgetting the most simplest thing. Lucia, on the other hand shrugged her shoulders and giggled nervously. "Relax you two, you're not in any trouble. We just want your personal feelings on the Elder Council's orders."
Lucia looked up and took a step forward. "This war has taken away more lives than the previous and the Thalmor's presence in this very city irks us all, the Solitude guards put up with them because they care about the safety of the High Queen if not - they would have openly revolted against their rule." Marius stared opened-mouth at his daughter's smart words. Serana only grinned even wider. "The Divines must be watching over us ever since the war broke out, even after Pa killed many of their kind on the field of battle, never before have they ever barged down our doors and burn us for being heretics and Imperial spies. But it won't be long before the Justiciars discover about our true allegiance, and before that happens, we need to oust the Thalmor garrison from Solitude." She continued.
Frodnar nodded his head. "She's right. I have no intention of being burned alive at the stake at such a young age." He stated. "Nilfgaard lies across the Sea of Ghosts, it'll take at least a month to journey there, and time is ticking. The earlier the Nilfgaardians arrive to help us, the better the Empire can win this conflict."
"If this is truly what you wish, than I will go." Marius said, Frodnar and Lucia smiled and nodded their heads in unison. "How about you, my love?"
Serana cupped her hand on his right cheek and leaned forward. "Just come back alive, wolf." She smiled seductively, and pushed Marius towards the bed. "Now, forgive me for being impatient but tomorrow is Morndas and I want a ride on my dragon before he leaves." She started kissing and cuddling in a fiery passion, totally ignoring the presence of her two wide-eyed children. As the kissing grew more intense, she snapped her fingers and her robes started materialising away - leaving her completely in her birthday suit.
"Argh! MY EYES!" Frodnar screamed and ran out of the room. "Bad idea, bad idea..."
"Don't look back!" Lucia piped in after him, as she too sprinted down the stairs.
"Why?" Frodnar took the risk and glanced back. "AH! IT BURNS!"
"Told you so, you nitwit!" Lucia retorted with a roll of her eyes. "Let's just visit the legionnaires at Fort Hraggstad."
"Anything to get us away while our parents make love." Frodnar readily agreed with her.
And that was exactly what they did. Taking the scenic route towards the Imperial-held fort, doing their best to avoid being spotted by the Thalmor Justiciars, having a mother as a vampire and a father who's an Alpha Werewolf came in pretty handy. Lucia chose to follow in Serana's footsteps, to live as a pure-blooded vampire but by the graces of the Nine Divines, she was able to switch the color of her eyes between red and blue any time she pleased - which was a perfect way to avoid getting a wooden stake to the heart by Vigilants of Stendarr or paranoid people. Frodnar, on the other hand chose the path of the Wolf, stalking forests and behaving more beast than men on nights of a full moon. His sense of smell surpasses Marius due to his young age but his speed is far more slower than his father's lupine form, he could clearly recall his first transformation in the Underforge and despite how werewolves were supposed to behave - he can and will always control his blood thirst but that doesn't mean he won't use them. And the two had the same gift of immortality - a feat for being a pure-blooded vampire and werewolf. Lucia held up her hand to stop her brother from advancing, her eyes flashed a brief red before she nodded, signalling that the coast was clear. The two came to a halt outside the fort and took a minute or two to glance into their surroundings, both having the gift to sense any oncoming things, be it undead or living things from a far distance. They scanned the trees and roads, their eyes shifting into their respective predatory stance, slowly sniffing out any signs of foul play and thankfully they found none.
"Hello? Anyone in there?" Lucia cupped her hands and hollered when she noticed that there were no sentries on duty.
No answer.
"I don't like this." Frodnar commented, he sniffed the air. "Blood...I smell blood." He shared a glance with his sister before walking closer to the fort.
Lucia took her first step into the fort and froze at the sight. Imperial legionnaires could be seen lying motionlessly all across the ground, some were slumped against the wall with Elven arrows embedded into the front and back of their armor, others just laid around in a gruesome manner. Judging from the looks of things, the legionnaries were taken completely by surprise and did not have the proper time to retaliate before they were cut down - that could be seen on the left where a dozen lay in cots and make-shift beds with bandages and throats open. The entire courtyard was littered with Imperial dead with a few unlucky Thalmors, dried blood coated the entire ground, scorches along the ground and walls told them clearly that Destruction spells were used during the attack. Nodding at each other, the two broke off into the two buildings located within the fort, Frodnar towards the Commander's quarters and Lucia towards the prison. The prison was in a complete mess with tables overturned and the smell of blood everywhere, Lucia covered her nose to block out the stench as she prodded her way through the dead until she came to the cells. She made a mental note to kill every single Thalmor she sees from here on out for not even the prisoners had been spared the sword. She decided that she had seen enough and rushed out to find her brother, she found him on the second floor of the Commander's quarters staring remorsefully at eighteen Imperial bodies.
"Fuck..." Frodnar said softly. "The Imperials didn't stand a chance at all! Those bloody Thalmor just cut them down where they stood..." He gasped when he saw a crumbled letter, he picked it up and read its contents and looked at his sister. "We have to warn Pa. The Thalmor knows about his allegiance, we aren't safe in Solitude anymore."
"By the Nine..." Lucia shook her head as she peeked at the letter. "I'll fly home. You ready the horses." She turned into a cloud of bats and flew towards the city.
Frodnar turned back towards the fallen legionnaires. "Have no fear. Pa will avenge you. We will win this war." He promised solemnly, he felt the cool air blowing past his cheeks, causing him to shiver slightly. It was as if the spirits of the fallen soldiers accepted his oath for vengeance. He whirled around and disappeared in a flash. He arrived at the Solitude stables only to find Thalmor Justiciars questioning Blaise - an orphan working at the stables who so happens to be one of their friends, he frowned and surveryed the surroundings, he knew the Solitude guards wouldn't care if he killed some Thalmor. He smiled devilishly as he leaped down from above. He sunk his nails into the neck of the first Justiciar he landed on causing the High Elf to let out a piercing scream of agony, the other two turned around and brandished their weapons, he flipped backwards to avoid a flame spell before leaping into the air and disembowled a second, spilling Mer guts on the ground. The last Justiciar swung her sword in a fit of rage that it grazed his arm. "Fuck!" He cursed as he covered the flesh wound with his right hand, he glared up at the Thalmor as she lifted her blade once more. He smirked coldly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The Justiciar went rigid for a moment before she started gasping for air, dropping her blade and hands wrapping around her own throat, she floated up into the air and wriggled for a few seconds whilst making choking sounds. And before anyone could do anything, the sound of a bone snapping could be heard and the body fell limp. Frodnar inclined his head in gratitude at the small figure standing above.
"That's what you get for messing with my brother!" Lucia spat at the body. She looked at the injury on Frodnar's arm and frowned. "You're lucky the cut just grazed your skin and it wasn't deep. But be more thankful that it wasn't silver." She looked over at the cowering boy. "Blaise...are you alright?"
"Huh? Yea...I...I'm fine." Blaise stuttered his reply. "By the Nine, the Thalmor must have found out about your Pa's allegiance. They came to me demanding for your horses, I refused and they threatened to gut me if I don't...I would have died if it wasn't for your arrival, so thanks." He explained. "But you mustn't tarry here, you have to go!"
"Where's Pa and Ma?" Frodnar asked his sister.
Lucia mounted her steed. "Enroute to Dawnstar. The Imperial Second Fleet is there along with the Tenth. He told us to ride for the Imperial camp in the Reach."
"Good luck you two." Blaise said as Frodnar mounted his steed. "And may the Nine watch over you."
"Over you as well." They answered in unison.
Constantius Tituleius I
The Reach - known to the Nords as the most beautiful and dangerous place in the Province. Beautiful for its scenic routes and breathtaking views. Dangerous for its high possibility of getting a nice shave from an enraged Forsworn. However, with the Aldmeri Dominion taking control of Solitude ever since the outbreak of the war, the Fourth Legion had no choice but to flee from the capital and flee south towards the Reach. Legate Constantius Tituleius was placed in charge of a quarter of the Fourth Legion after General Tullius moved eastward to secure Riften and Falkreath, if the two cities fell to the hands of the Thalmor, the legion would be fighting a lonely war with no chance of reinforcements nor fresh supplies from the Imperial City. Reports from scouts revealed that Tullius had indeed fortified both Riften and Falkreath, leaving Legate Rikke at Falkreath while he personally took control of Riften, and word had also arrived that the Tenth Legion had begun marching towards Dawnstar and the Imperial Second Fleet were last spotted sailing past Solitude. The legionnaires camping out in the Reach faced a chance of a Forsworn raid almost every alternate night, but after routing the Forsworn every single time they tried to attack the camp had them leaving the legion out of fear, which was considered a blessing from the Divines, Constantius called it a sheer dumb luck.
"Riders approaching!" Came a cry from the sentry.
The entire camp froze.
"Hold! It's just a lad and his sister!" Another sentry yelled before the archers could fire.
Constantius squinted his eyes at the two figures approaching the camp, he knew at once who they were. "Stand down!" He roared, pushing his way towards the front with a huge beaming smile on his face. "Don't you recognize the Dragonborn's children when you see 'em?!" He chided as the archers lowered their bows. The two figures came closer until their face became much more clearer, and the atmosphere in the camp relaxed, many had seen the Dragonborn's children during a feast held by Jarl Balgruuf the Greater after Alduin's defeat. The Legate watched as both the boy and the girl dismounted, he smiled as he approached. "By the Divines, its good to see the two of you again." He shook their hands tenderly. "I haven's seen your parents ever since the start of this accursed war. How are they if I may ask?"
"They're fine." Frodnar answered. "Pa's on his way to Dawnstar to meet up with the Tenth."
"Ma went with him. She'll be joining us here at a later date." Lucia continued for him.
"Good to hear." Constantius said with a nod. "Come, you must be hungry after a long ride from Solitude." He waved them towards his tent.
The trio settled in rather nicely where Constantius had a nice selection of meat and vegetables arranged, the meat mostly came from rabbits and elks that either fell into a man-made trap or killed by the foraging party. Frodnar dived into his meal. Lucia threw a disgusted look towards her brother and setlled for the fork and knife. Constantius noted from his silent observation that the two had followed their parents foot steps, Frodnar being a werewolf and Lucia being a vampire, in the past he would have commented on their choice of being an abomination. However, after being rescued by Marius in werewolf form, and witnessing the carnage and powers that a vampire could unleash against their enemies - his entire belief towards certain undead groups changed drastically.
"Now that you have your fill. I need to ask you a question." He said. The two nodded. "Barely a week ago, I sent Captain Aldis and a small squad of legionnaires to reinforce the garrison at Fort Hraggstad. Did you happen upon them on your travels?"
Frodnar nodded solemnly. "I guess we should have told you why we fled in the first place." He sighed. "The legionnaires you spoke off must have been attacked by a Thalmor raiding party for there were several wounded being treated in the fort. Captain Aldis arrived but..."
"The Thalmor attacked again, slaughtering everyone including the wounded." Lucia continued for him. "Every single legionnaire was put to the sword. Not a soul survived."
"I'll kill them! I'll kill them all! Oblivion take every single last one of 'em!" Constantius rose to his feet. Stalking past both a worried Frodnar and Lucia and out into the open air. He glared intently towards the ground and balled his his hands into a fist. His fist shook with anger and his eyes blazed with rage as his heart wept for the men and women that he had sent out, he lifted his arms to the sky as he fell to his knees. He shouted a few words into the heavens that would be recorded down in Imperial history as the words of a mourning Legate.
"YOU ELVEN BASTARDS, GIVE ME BACK MY LEGIONS!"
