Prologue

~Why I had to leave Cyrodiil. It was for a good reason! Kinda….~

Domita Invectus, a name of little meaning unless you are an adventurer in need of a travelling company or you were alive during the great war the name Invectus might mean something but if you are historian the name Invectus will really mean something, is a simple vagabond of Cyrodiil and mercenary. Without home and family nor loyalty to Empire and Emperor, she travels her homeland in search of something simple. Pleasure.

Not a physical, erotic, lustful pleasure filled with sex and orgies nor riches of gold and finely aged wine whilst bathing a hot spring with the finest babes around, that, in her humble opinion, pleasure would be boring all too fast: she was looking for the pleasure of the adventure, to explore ruins of all kind and translate ancient languages, to feel the adrenaline of finding something new, sometimes even the pleasure of battle.

Indeed many people who have heard of her tend to think she would be gruff and scarred, bulky and lean with muscle, but not she is a simple Imperial girl, born near Bruma thus having a light tanned fair skin tone, long single braided raven black hair and pale green eyes, and freckles dot her face. She was slender and agile, though she often wears heavy armour her build allows for a bit more mobility than expected. She had a natural beauty to her, though some would consider her a modest seven although it wasn't rare for her to meet the wandering Noble wishing for her hand and giving her some flowery language about how she is the most beautiful star or flower.

Although she does not consider herself a mage of any sorts, she has minor destruction and restoration spells that any would be and novice adventurers have. Despite her experience in the field of adventuring, she could not afford well-fitted equipment, often she is stuck scavenging armour off of dead bandits she killed if she is lucky she may even find some iron armour but often it is the simple run of the mill fur or leather. Despite that the armour like always is worn out in a matter of days or if she is lucky weeks, as she has not the tools to truly repair her stuff and rarely has enough money to repair the armours and weapons by a blacksmith.

Finally, she caught her break, this was her chance of a lifetime. Domita had heard of a caravan of Khajiit merchants offering a pretty coin purse for a well-seasoned bodyguard(s) to escort them into Skyrim all the way to Whiterun was a glorious thought, and the clinking of coin did help a little bit - even if she didn't want to admit it.

Thus through bartering with the sly and swift Khajiits they accepted her and gave her a small amount of gold ahead of time. She stopped by a blacksmith and sold her weak furs and leather armour for some studded armour - though she could not afford the entire set she opted to wear her well-worn footwraps as footwear and wear no bracers as she is well accustomed to such things - and a steel sword.

Thus this is where she is, walking along with the Khajiits as they make their way from Leyawiin to the Imperial City, though she is not the only bodyguard. They have two other Khajiits from their homeland, both are clearly better outfitted then she is, wearing full steel plate armour and all. One's name was Dro'marash, the two didn't talk to each other just greeted each other and that was it, but Kharjo on the other hand, they talked not a lot but enough the call him familiar, and from what little she has seen of him fighting, he is pretty good, clearly more qualified for this job than her, but numbers don't hurt when you are travelling through the wilderness of Cyrodiil.

Domita ever kept her eyes everywhere, some would call that overcautious be she has been travelling long enough it is better to be overcautious then not being cautious at all.

The sun was on its last legs as they made the view of the Imperial City. Despite the damages it was dealt by the Aldmeri Dominion she still found the white tower to be a beautiful site. "Is that not the place the last Septim stood against the Prince of Destruction?" Kharjo asked her.

She nodded her head, "Indeed it is, the Champion of Cyrodiil stood with Martin as he fought Mehrunes Dagon. Legend has it the two were lovers or at the very least had feelings of sorts," Domita opened her journal and flipped through many pages, "indeed many historians say that the Septim dynasty may not actually be gone, that there could be an heir to the throne after all these centuries, but such thoughts are naïve. If the Septim dynasty still exists the Thalmor would be hunting them down and the Blades as they are sworn to protect the Septims."

Kharjo nodded his head and the two continued on their pace, just behind the rest of the caravan. "Kharjo wishes to know, have you ever been to Skyrim? I hear its snows are more vast than sands of Elsweyr."

Domita shook her head, "No, I have been as far as the border, not never further. I….never thought I'd leave my homeland. I still have much to explore here but the thought of going to Skyrim….well I've always wanted to see the homeland of the Nords." Domita grinned, "Well this will surely be my-."

"Ssh!" Ahkari shushed, "Kharjo do you see anything?" Kharjo eyes darted around the area, "How far away are we from the Imperial City now Domita?" Ahkari asked.

Domita unsheathed her sword and eyed road ahead, "Three, four hours."

"Are bandit attacks this common outside of the capital?" Dro'marash asked as he unsheathed his sword along with Domita and Kharjo.

Domita shrugged, "Legions up in the north need more and more men, they can't really get too many Nords in Skyrim 'cause you know….civil war, and the divide, not many Nords are that loyal to join the legion," Domita said as the Caravan slowly walk forward, keeping an eye on the hills and forests. "What do you hear?" Domita asked Kharjo.

"Something big…." Kharjo said as he covered his nose, "and smells like a wet cow," he said with a cough.

Domita glanced at the woods to see a rustle of bushes and hears a faint mooing sound, letting out a long sigh she yells, "Minotaur!" The Minotaur charged out from the woods with a bellowing roar. Kharjo swiftly rolled out of the way, Dro'marash stepped out of the way as the Minotaur charge straight at Domita. "Oh, Shit!" She yelled as she stumbled out of the way.

The Minotaur crashed into a tree, shaking its head it turned and let out another roar. Domita twirled her sword, flames appeared in her left hand. Pushing her left hand forward a stream of fire burst from her hands, the Minotaur stumbled around trying to douse the flames out. Angrily the Minotaur roared once more and began its charge towards Domita.

Kharjo leapt onto the back of the Minotaur and stabbed deep into its back. The Minotaur scrambled around, pulling at Kharjo. Dro'marash ran towards the Minotaur and thrust his sword deep into its gut. The Minotaur grunted as it pulled Kharjo off him, he kicked Dro'marash sending him on a collision course with a nearby tree, it throws Kharjo to the side. The Minotaur eyed Domita, without warning the beast charged her.

Kharjo kneeled himself up and coughed, "Khajiit does not like to fight cow beast."

Domita stepped to the side and slashed her sword through the beast's stomach. The Minotaur caught Domita in its grasp and smashed her into a tree, ignoring the wound on its stomach. The Minotaur breathed into Domita's face, its breath foul.

Kharjo leapt onto its back again and pulled out his sword, jumping off its back he slashed at its legs. Dro'marash recovered and ran towards the Minotaur, he grabbed his sword and drove it deeper into its gut, twisting with every inch. The Minotaur roared as it pinned Domita deepening to the tree. "Mind….killing this….Mino….taur faster!" Domita gasped. Kharjo thrust his sword into the thigh of the beast, the Minotaur fell onto its knee but still, he pinned and pushed Domita deeper into the tree. "By….the!….Fine!" She placed her hand on the beast's face, she let out her stream of fire, the beasts dropped her and stumbled back, patting its face. Kharjo pursed the kill and pulled his sword from the thigh and swung his sword at its neck. The Minotaur stopped moving as its burnt and charged head rolled off its body.

"Domita did good in that fight, was not expecting such a beast so close to a large city," Kharjo said as he turned to the human girl on her knees catching her breath.

"Don't….usually fight Minotaurs, but….akh akh, we were close to its territory as it….seemed," Domita massaged her neck and took deep breaths, "So….shall we head to the city now?"

The rest of the Caravan nodded. Despite them paying her, they did not truly trust anyone who was not their kind. After all she was the same, she doesn't trust them, she is only in it because she needs the money to buy better equipment so she can have better standards and charge more for her mercenary work, but Kharjo….he was different, Dro'marash was yes indeed a good fighter but Kharjo….he was clearly the more experienced of the two, she could learn a thing or two from her.

The Caravan made their way to the Imperial City. Often the case they'll check all Khajiit caravans for any moon sugar and such but all that was an excuse to not let them in. Paranoia ran deep in the empire after their defeat at the Thalmor and the Aldmeri Dominion. From what little her soldier of a mother told her, the Aldmeri outclassed the Empire in almost every way but Military. The Empire won the most battles but that never gained them anything, for every battle won, a stronghold or fortress was quickly overrun by the Thalmor, for every plan conceived the Thalmor knew it and countered it. Now, the Empire is but flickering flame waiting to be put out, but still, it holds strong, they still have the strongest military but it is dwindling and the resources of the empire are going to the Legions in Skyrim to snuff out the Rebellion.

The Caravan was about to come up to the gates to the Imperial City when Domita stopped them, "Okay look….I don't know if you are Thalmor spies or anything, I could care less even if you were, but these guards think you are, so let me do the talking."

Ahkari looked to her companion and nodded her head, "We suspect you want payment."

"We bump the payment up to three thousand and we have a deal."

Ahkari raised her finger to pause the conversation. Muttering to calculations to herself she nodded her head. The two shook hands and Domita took the lead.

Approaching the gates the guards stopped them, "Halt! Every merchant Caravan is-."

"In-fucking-need of searching, blah blah blah. Tell you what you'll let us pass because these…." Domita leaned in closer to the guard, "These fucking cats have valuable information about Thalmor movements. Now me? Well I am a simple mercenary so don't take my word for it, but if the Empire falls, it's on your head, my dude."

The guard groaned, "By the Eight Domita! Just go on it! We saw nothing."

"Thanks, Phil," she said as she pecked him on the check.

"My name is not Phil."

The caravan entered the city with Domita snickering to herself, "Does that guard know you?" Ahkari asked as she caught up with him.

"His name is Lloyd Pillwater, but I just call him Phil. He caught me a few times stealing some apples here in the city, but….well let's just say I am good at making a big scene," Domita chuckled to herself as they found themselves in the city's closing markets. "I know a decent place we can room, for free too."

"Lead the way," Ahkari said gesturing to her to lead.

Domita followed the path appearing in her head, leading towards the still active but not as popular Imperial City Arena. She had joined the Arena, made if all the way up to Hero rank, could have become a Champion but she lost a battle to a masterful swordsman who showed mercy to her, something she found….profane, the audience demanded blood yet they did not get it. Still, she did a few matches to get some gold but not as much as before, she would rather venture out then stay in this sweat filled room of equally smelly and sweaty warriors.

Still, she led the Khajiits down into the bloodworks and showed them some beds. She explained her situation to the blademaster and battle matron. They could stay on the condition she fights in the last battle of the night. She agreed, hesitantly though. She wanted to retire ahead of the game before she fell too deep into it, after all, she is only eighteen, something that shocked a lot of people.

And here she is, leaning her head on bloodstained door taking deep breaths, "They said he was Nord….a deserter from the Legions and a Stormcloak….taken a prisoner and serving his sentence with these battles." She nodded to herself took one last deep breath before opening the door to the arena.

Walking up the stairs the cheering and roaring of the crowd overwhelmed her sense, almost falling into intoxicant of the excitement of the arena. She shifted in her heavy raiment, twirling her shortsword around. Her mother had taught her many things about fighting, her father taught her a thing or two about patching wounds and magic, the two were a perfect couple, they were far too great to her and….

She took deep breaths, everything slowing at the moment and the announcer's voice nothing but a buzzing sound in her ear as the gates of the area lowered. She rushed out, in her left hand a firebolt ready. She hurled the firebolt at the Nord, slamming into his shield the flames burnt the paint on the shield.

The Nord slammed his shield into Domita, pushing her forward. He pushed her off his shield and stabbed Domita in her sides. Domita twirled around him, slashing his back and expelling a stream of flames. The Nord fell to the ground and used the shield to block the flames. Domita closed the distant and raised her sword in the air. The Nord rolled an inch and dodge the thrusting sword, he pushed the sword to the side and kicked Domita back.

Stumbling backwards, Domita put her hands together and expelled a large more potent stream of fire. The Nord rushed forward, keeping his body behind the shield. He swung his sword at Domita, she dodges to the side of the attack and kneed the Nord in the gut, she gripped onto the rims of the shield and pulled it off his person. She threw the shield away and blasted him with fire. The Nord ran behind one of the pillars and patted down on the flames. Domita rushed for her sword, just barely rolling out of the grasp of the Nord as he made a daring attempt at a grapple.

Domita barely blocked the swinging sword from the Nord. She leapt upward and deflected his attacks with a fluid grace that looked more like a dance. She twirled to the right but as she did she made a sudden twirl to the left as the Nord attacked his right, she slashed her sword at the Nord.

The Nord stumbled back as the sword cut open his own heavy raiment. The Nord wiped off the sweat from his forehead and held the biggest grin Domita saw from a man in battle. He was enjoying this and showing very much show, indeed Domita enjoyed this please too, the pleasure of battle and feeling the raw feeling of winning and gloating your own dominance over another was…..blissful.

The two circled each like like stalking predators sizing them up. To them what happened moments ago was merely a warm-up. Taking small stabs at each other effortless paired or blocked, they would telegraph their attacks and feint them into a simple stab to the legs or shoulders. The did this motion for minutes before finally, the Nord thrust his sword forward, Domita parried the attack and slashed at the Nord, he headbutted her back and stabbed her in the gut. The two stumbled back and twirled the swords.

All those flashy moves were to merely entertain the guests, they were in it for the win, if they die….well they die. The two paced back and pointed their swords forward. Both said nothing but charged at each other with their swords thrust forward.

In an instant, almost like lightning, the Nord fell to the ground, a puddle of blood forming on his stomach. Domita held her gut and sighed, she was cut pretty deep, but luckily not a death blow.

She fell onto a pillar and slide down, catching her breath. It was a difficult fight but certainly, a fight that exhausted her to her surprise, she always thought she was more fit than this. Standing up she slowly walks to the gates as the announcer congratulated her on her victory.

She stumbled down the corridors and washed in the basin, she looked at her wounds, 'He was using poison?' She thought to herself. She shook her head and sighed, 'No….I was using too much magic at one moment.'

She walked to some sleeping rolls and laid down. The Blademaster tossed her some coin purse that she caught in her hands, "Good job Hero," He said.

She quickly fell asleep as she saw the Khajiits walk down the stairs. They must have seen the battle too.

The caravan set off, not before selling a few numbers of their wares, getting a hefty amount of coin from it. The split the coin among themselves, a total of four thousand gold, four of them so it was even, though Kharjo split his with Domita.

The two followed the path and saw more Legion activity in the North of Cyrodiil then even in the Heartland of Cyrodiil, the Rebellion must be taking its toll. She has gotten to know them a bit better, not on friendship level - as she never had a friend, often the common adventurer hires people and only pays a portion of what is said or they keep all the money and try to kill their hired personnel, she has experienced this often but not too often.

Still the journey - for her at least - was exhausting, she never really liked snow that much, it was just as bad as sand but colder. They made it to Bruma with hours of daylight still ahead of them.

They made a short stop at Bruma, Domita hired a blacksmith to repair her sword as that was all she had, but even than the gold from the arena and the shared coin with Kharjo barely made eight hundred. She sold her studded armour and replaced with her more worn ragged clothing, she covered herself in heavy furs she carries with her for blankets.

"Just when I got some good armour too," she mumbled to herself as she twirled her blade around, "stuck with furs I guess." She looked back at Bruma and sighed, "Well….the hour spent back at home was good."

"Bruma is your home?" Kharjo asked looking behind him.

Domita nodded her head, "Born near the Burman woods, a little hunting shack where my mother would take me hunting, my father took me to Bruma to read books and other nerdy stuff." Kharjo nodded his head and the two continued their journey to Whiterun.

The two came up to the border crossing. Domita noticed it was off, the men guarding the border weren't Legionnaires, but Thalmor. Domita looked at the Khajiits, "We should find another crossing," Domita told Ahkari.

Ahkari glanced at Domita, "Very well, you know these lands better than us."

Thus Domita, knowing of a passage her mother told her, crossed the border through the mountains. No blizzards or storms came, just the beating sun giving warmth as they passed through the unexplored valleys. "I trust you have some form of permits or an official license to cross to Skyrim?" Domita said as they treated through a mountaintop, the valleys gave way to a mountain that needs to be cross or they'll cross under the mountains which is far more dangerous.

"Yes, why do you ask?" Ahkari asked she and the other Khajiits were slightly slower than before as they snow they walked in was deep and could not allow with their feline agility to help them.

"Because technically we are crossing illegally but the permits should help us," Domita said as she stopped, she pointed forward, "See that….that is the Throat of the World, and on top of that is High Hrothgar. My mother told me she made the pilgrimage up the mountain to meet some old monks or something like that."

The Khajiits took in the beautiful view giving. They rested for a bit, drinking water and eating whilst they can.

The travelled down the mountain as the scenery slowly turned to a forest. Domita stopped, "My mother told me stories about Skyrim….I know the way to Whiterun, and judging by this map we are about two hours away from the nearest road, which should be this-" Domita was pushed to the ground as Kharjo shield her from arrow fire.

"Dro'marash! Do you see?!" Kharjo yelled to the other. Ahkari took cover behind some trees along with her companion.

Domita lightly pushed him off her and glanced around the forest. She ran behind a tree heard as the forest grew silent with flying arrows. Kharjo ran behind the same tree as Domita. "They are about….twenty metres away!" Dro'marash yelled back.

Domita looked and saw the Bandits, "Okay here's the plan….you four run to the road as fast as you can, I'll distract them." Kharjo looked at Domita, he tilted his head, "Don't give me that look. I'll meet you at Whiterun so I can get paid, plus I am your bodyguard so I have to defend you guys, that I was I am doing." Domita gave Kharjo her map.

Kharjo placed his hand on her shoulder, "Don't do anything foolish, Khajiit is starting to like you." Kharjo said with a smile. He nodded to the others. Ahkari nodded to Domita.

Domita took a few rapid breaths and sprinted forward in zigzags as arrows flung past her. Domita pulled her sword out and slashed the first bandit. Taking a quick glance she saw the Khajiits ran out of the forest, or at least run in the opposite direction.

Domita quickly killed the first bandit as she slashed his head off. She kicked the second bandit and sung her sword downward, lodging the blade into her head. A firebolt formed in her hands and she shot two of them at the other two bandits, killing them both as the flames feed on their leather and hide armours. She watched as the other three bandits, one armed with a bow watch this girl in rags kills four of their own with little effort. "Boo," she said. The Bandits ran off, not out of fear but if this mysterious girl could kill four, two heavily armoured, of their own, they would need more men.

Domita twirled her sword and smiled to herself, "And they say Nords are sturdy folk." She walked in the direction she remembers the road was on the map. Hours past and she was walking in circles. She clearly didn't study the map good enough.

She walked into a clearing in the forest, looking down she sees a faded dirt path. Nodding to herself she walked the path. Walking the path she found herself at a scene where Legionnaire and Stormcloak bodies covered the area. She walked back, turning her body the last thing she was a wall of shields. The last thing she said was "Oh, shit."

A/N: Hey, I made another fic...just something I thought of because I am currently still working on the future chapters of The Lone Wayfarer from afar and planing the up and coming Arc but I thought, hey….this is both a cool and bad idea! The Lone Wayfarer is still my priority so this is probably going to get monthly chapter updates or bi-monthly chapter updates.