Consider Fort Hraggstad as good as yours. I remember saying those words to Legate Rikke with an air of arrogance. I thought the fort would simply have a small group of idiotic bandits I would have to slaughter. I've dealt with bandits a few times before, all of them were felled before they could even draw their weapons. I realize I'm wrong once the first arrow pierces my thin fur armor, I'm not even close to the fort when it happens. I can already tell these bandits are better trained than any I've dealt with before.

As I approach the entrance I hear the snap of no less than twenty bows being fired, no doubt in a curved arch towards me. In one fluid motion I dive beneath the stone archway and draw my hand-and-a-half sword from the leather scabbard on my waist. When the arrows hit the ground where I was I run from my cover and across the dirt yard, planing on running up the wooden stairs and clearing the stone walkways of outlaws.

I feel three more arrows hit their marks while I bolt towards the stairs, one in my thigh and two in my left shoulder. The wounds hurt but don't appear to be serious, so I push on and quickly climb the wooden stairs. Instantly three bandits surround me with their weapons draw, thankfully the archers are forced to stop for fear of hitting their allies. Two of them wear thin fur armor and carry iron weapons, their leader wears leather and has a steel dagger in each of his hands.

Before they can react I lunge for the rightmost bandit and drive my sword through his neck, the spray of blood splattering me and the brigand beside him. At once the leftmost enemy wildly swings his mace at my neck, I easily dodge the blow and grab onto the weapon. I rip it from his grasp and swing my sword for his chest, the fool is wearing fur armor that leaves his entire upper half exposed. Once the second one has fallen the archers begin firing again, although their aim has worsened now that I'm at a higher elevation.

While I pull my bastard sword from my foe's chest his companion attacks, swinging his left dagger at my belly and his right at my face. I lunge back too slow and get a scratch on my cheek and a wide gash in my armor, thankfully his dagger only left a small gash on my vulnerable belly. Screaming my rage I bring my weapon down on both of his shoulders, the cracks telling me their broken, and end his worthless life by smashing his skull in with the flat of my blade.

By now I've lost count of the arrows that have pierced my armor and flesh, although I see that a few of the bandits have run out of arrows and are making their way towards me. Without thinking I let out a scream like a madwoman and charge the group of bandits closest to me, instantly half of them howl in fear and slightly retreat. I slash wildly and leap back whenever one of them slashes. I repeat the process with any bandits I come across, their numbers swell as more pour out of the interior once they realize their under attack.

However, once I manage to kill their leader (a miracle if I'm being honest) a good handful of them loose heart and flee like terrified deer. The group that remain are already battered and wounded, I defeat them in less than five minutes. I can't help but smile as I look around the now abandoned fort, dirty and with bodies everywhere I pity the soldiers that are forced to clean the place up.

When the fighting started the sun was halfway across the sky and now the moon is high in the sky. As I make my way back to Solitude I activate my Night Eye and watch out for any stray bandits. Once I'm safely in the city I make my way over to a barrel and collapse on top of it as my wounds catch up with me.

My armor is in shreds and I have a wide variety of cuts, bruises, and a few broken fingers. I'm forced to walk past Castle Dour and make my way to the Temple of the Eight Divines and seek out a priestess. She doesn't even bother asking my name and goes straight to my wounds before I even ask. I resist the urge to fight her as she forces my broken fingers into place and mends them, once that's done I'm whole again and make my way back to Castle Dour.

"FINE! LEAVE! SEE IF I CARE!" I hear Rikke shout as a scrawny looking youth shoves past me and leaves the central headquarters of the Imperial Legion. Inside the counsel room I find a seething Legate and a frowning General, both of their attentions turn to me as I enter the room. "From the look of your gear I'd say Fort Hraggstad is ours." The General tells me. "Yes sir." I tell him while I eye the still seething Legate Rikke. "I'll send troops to garrison it right away. Rikke, find this woman a place in the Legion. Don't forget the oath." Tullius tells his second in command as he leaves to see to the fort.

"You've proven yourself by killing those bandits. Usually you'd have to start as a lowly Auxiliary and do menial task. Tend the horses, unpack the camp, sharpen weapons, fix armor, etc. And you'd earn the next rank by surviving five battles and not turning craven, the next rank ten battles and so on and so forth. However, I have another position in mind if you'll accept it." I think of how bored I'd be tending horses and ask, "What is it?" She tells me, "As you may have seen, my squire quit on me. He fathered a bastard with a whore and demanded he be allowed to bring the boy and woman with him. I don't need my squire distracted, and I don't need a whore around my men. They'd spend all their gold and time with her and never get any work done."

"A squire's purpose is to serve me as a sort of personal assistant and an ally in battles. Like an Auxiliary or Housecarl, only with a different purpose. A squire is meant to learn from me and improve faster than a regular solider, and eventually take my place if I should fall in battle or retire. If the war ends before you achieve my rank you'll be paid and treated like a Tribune, the rank below Legate. However. Should you prove yourself craven or unfit for my rank, I'll demote you to pack mule and make up carry my bags with no chance of promotion. Knowing these terms do you accept my position as squire?"

To me it sounds like an amazing offer, don't screw up and I can be a Legate or Tribune in less than a year. "I accept." I tell her. "Good now repeat after me,Upon my honor I do swear undying loyalty to the Emperor, Titus Mede II and unwavering obedience to the officers of his great Empire. May those above judge me, and those below take me, if I fail in my duties. Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!" I quickly repeat the oath back to her, grateful to now be part of the Imperial Legion.

"Now. I suppose you want to know where we're going to attack first and what you must do? Well, we're launching a march of two hundred soldiers to attack the Rift with me leading it. We'll laugh in three days, hence why my squire asked if he could bring his whore. As my squire I expect you to meet me at the gate in three days at ten sharp, with Legion armor on. Get your armor from the smith."

I almost leave then but I've no place to sleep, no food to eat, and hardly any gold. "L-Legate, if you don't mind me asking, where can I sleep and what should I do until the launch?" She gives a hearty laugh and answers, "The Winking Skeever is cheap and decent. Until the launch do what you please. Get some armor, find a new weapon, buy some sweats, drink, dance, buy a male whore for a night, get a steed. Couldn't matter less. Now, dismissed!"

I quickly make my way to the inn, buy a room, eat my fill, and collapse in bed. As I fall in unconsciousness I can't stop the excitement from boiling up inside me. I'm in the Legion! I'm a squire to one of the greatest Legates in history and can become one in less than a year! But as sleep consumes me I can't stop the tiny ounce of fear from appearing. I've just become a squire to one of the strictest, toughest, and smartest Legates in all of Skyrim.