Prologue
The year is 4E 205. Alduin the World-Eater has been defeated, slain in the fields of Sovngarde by the Dragonborn, and the remaining dragons of Skyrim have all but died off. The civil war finally came to a bloody end after the Imperial Legion, under the command of General Tullius, stormed the Palace of Kings in Windhelm and killed Ulfric Stormcloak, thus reuniting Skyrim under one rule- Imperial rule. The Thalmor, however, have since retained their iron grip on the weakened Empire, and continue to act as Skyrim's puppet-masters. Elenwen, originally the chief ambassador of the Thalmor, has prevented Jarl Elisif from ascending to the throne of High Queen, thus ensuring Skyrim remains without a unified leader. Now, bestowing upon herself the title of "High Magistrate", Elenwen effectively holds the true power in Skyrim, ruling over the land from deep within the fortified stone walls of Solitude.
The Dragonborn, an Imperial war veteran named Cassian Spade, has all but faded into obscurity. Firmly uninterested in the politics of the land, he now finds work as a mercenary and occasional bounty hunter. Rarely does he make his identity know to clients, instead preferring to remain anonymous. However, the Thalmor continue to keep tabs on him, occasionally making use of his services in return for gold.
This time, Cassian has been hired by Elenwen herself to track down a group of bandits hiding in an abandoned tower, where there have been rumored sightings of a powerful necromancer once thought to be long dead…
Chapter I
It was cold, but it was always cold. Cassian tugged on his fur coat, pulling it closer to his body as the frigid Nordic wind assaulted him. Though the wintry conditions made it difficult to see, he could just barely make out his destination in the distance: a tall, gray tower, silhouetted against the starry indigo sky. The tower was built into the slope of a large mountain, looming over the vast stretch of empty land far below it.
Supposedly, somewhere inside that tower lurked a dangerous necromancer, along with a handful of bandits acting as her private security force. The bandits didn't really concern Cassian; he'd slain more than his fair share of Skyrim's thugs over the past few years. Rather, it was the necromancer that he was after. Not exactly his usual forte, but mercenaries with his degree of skill were frequently called upon to tackle targets that no one else could. For this particular job, Cassian had been hired by High Magistrate Elenwen herself, head of the Thalmor's presence in Skyrim. Cassian was no fan of the Thalmor, but they weren't the type of client one turned down- not if one liked keeping their head attached firmly to their neck.
According to Elenwen, the necromancer in question was a Breton woman named Malindra Fray. Until recently, Fray had been believed to be dead, executed by Thalmor justiciars at the end of Skyrim's civil war. However, rumors of strange occurrences near the tower had begun to surface, including sightings of a violet-haired sorceress clad in black robes and wielding an enchanted sword- all of which lined up with descriptions of Fray's appearance. If true, such sightings would seem to indicate that the necromancer was, in fact, very much alive.
Ironic, Cassian thought to himself, that a necromancer should themselves rise from the dead.
But then, he hadn't been hired to ponder the irony of the situation. Assuming the sightings were indeed fact and not fiction, his orders were to capture the sorceress and bring her back with him to Solitude, on her own two feet if possible, but in a body bag if necessary. Cassian knew full well that subduing a necromancer would be anything but child's play, especially one as powerful as this Malindra Fray was said to be. But a job is a job, and Cassian wasn't one to back out on a contract.
The frigid air began to take its toll on Cassian's body. His fur coat provided little protection against the extreme cold, and he began to grow numb. Shivering, he reached for the silver ring that hung from a cord around his neck and squeezed it. Immediately, it began to grow warm, sending soothing waves of heat over his skin and throughout his whole body. He sighed with relief as the feeling returned to his frozen fingers and toes.
In truth, he didn't know why the ring had the power to generate heat like it did; it was obviously enchanted, but he had not been the one to enchant it. It was a gift, a keepsake given to him long ago by someone dear to him- someone who was many years dead by now. But Cassian didn't wear the ring for the sake of sentimentality; rather, he wore it because he knew all too well the value of a little warmth in a tundra such as Skyrim.
Cassian marched on, keeping his hand wrapped tightly around the ring so that it continued to heat his body. Finally, after what felt like an eternity trudging through shin-high snow, he reached the base of the tower. Walking up upon the large entranceway, he was disappointed, but not surprised, to find it heavily fortified by spiked wooden barricades. He would need to find another way in.
At least, he would, were he not the Dragonborn.
"FUS-RO-DAH!"
The wooden barricades flew off the ground and were propelled back through the tower's entrance, splintering into pieces as they slammed against the interior wall. Cassian paused for a moment, allowing himself to catch his breath; using a full-powered thu'um always knocked the wind out of him. After he'd fully recovered his stamina, he proceeded into the tower, taking care to step over the chunks of wood and metal that littered the ground.
Almost immediately, Cassian found himself face-to-face with one of the bandit guardsmen he'd been warned about. A Redguard male, the bandit was standing perfectly still, petrified. A shocked expression was visible on his face; clearly, he'd never witnessed the power of a thu'um firsthand. Cassian offered the man a wry smile.
"Hello there."
The bandit shook his head, regaining his senses. He quickly drew his sword from the scabbard at his hip and lunged at Cassian. Cassian, likewise, drew his own sword- a steel blade, with an iron hilt wrapped in brown leather- and walked calmly towards his attacker. He casually raised his sword to deflect the bandit's first swing, which glanced off his blade with a resounding ring. The bandit staggered, then turned back and slashed his sword towards Cassian again. This time, Cassian caught the bandit's blade with his own and twisted it upwards, causing the sword to fly out of the Redguard's hand and across the room. Cassian brought his own sword down hard and slashed it across the bandit's chest. The blade sliced cleanly through the flesh, sending a ribbon of scarlet through the air. The bandit collapsed, lifeless, hitting the stone floor with a loud thunk.
Cassian shook the blood off his blade and glanced around. In the far corner of the room, he spotted a stairway that led up to the floor above him. Cassian strode over to the stairway and began walking briskly up its wooden steps. Suddenly, at the top of the stairway, a Dunmer bandit stepped into view. In her hands was a large crossbow, already aimed directly at Cassian's head.
Cassian quickly stepped to the side as the Dunmer fired and the steel bolt whizzed past him, missing his face by mere inches. Cassian turned back and hurled his sword towards the elf. Thrown with the utmost precision, its blade tore right through her chest, killing her instantly; the would-be assassin fell forward and began to tumble down the stairway. Cassian grabbed the hilt of his sword as her limp body barreled past him and yanked it from her chest.
He continued up the stairs and emerged onto the second floor, where three more bandits- a Nord, an Imperial, and an Argonian- were already waiting for him. Without hesitation, the Imperial raised his hands, his palms extended towards Cassian. Blue lightning streaked from his fingertips, crackling with electric power. Cassian quickly dropped into a defensive posture, raising his sword in front of him. The stream of lightning slammed into the flat of the blade, preventing it from reaching his body. The Nord and the Argonian began to move in on either side of him, both wielding steel axes. Cassian watched the two approach from the corners of his eyes, unable to move his blade for risk of being electrocuted.
The Nord reached him first, raising his axe above his head in preparation for a strike. Cassian took a deep breath, sucking in air. Then he expelled it in the form of a powerful shout.
"Tiid-Klo!"
Suddenly, everything became sluggish, as if moving in slow motion. Cassian could see every individual bolt of lightning as it left the Imperial's fingertips, and the Nord's axe now seemed to be taking an eternity to reach him. Also moving in slow motion, Cassian lifted his blade, directing the stream of magical lightning upwards, then began to spin out of the way. Perfectly timed, the lightning was intercepted by the Nord's axe; as Cassian had predicted, it lacked the magical barrier his own blade possessed. The electrical current ran through the steel axe and began to surge through the body of its wielder.
Just then, time returned to its normal pace.
The Nord screamed and convulsed as he was electrocuted. Realizing what had happened, the Imperial broke off the stream of lightning, but it was too late: the Nord crumpled to the ground, dead. Smoke rose from his fried body, his limbs still twitching erratically.
Cassian completed his spin, slashing his blade through the air; it ripped clean through the Argonian's neck, severing head from body. The surviving bandit renewed his magic attack, and once again Cassian caught the stream of lightning on his blade. He began slowly walking towards the Imperial, keeping his sword held in front of him as a shield. Desperate, the bandit backed against the stone wall, struggling to maintain the stream of lightning spewing from his fingers. His internal reserve of magicka was beginning to dwindle.
Cassian advanced on the bandit until they were only a foot apart, the blue lightning sizzling as it lashed against his blade. He held it there, smiling coldly at the Imperial; they both knew what was about to happen. Sure enough, after a moment the stream of lightning vanished, leaving nothing but smoke rising from the red-hot blade of Cassian's sword.
The bandit gulped.