Authors note: This is the sequel to my first Oblivion fan fiction 'His Claim to Fame'. Now I'm not saying you must read 'His Claim to Fame, but it would be really helpful if you did. That way you will know who all the characters are and why they are in the situations they are in. And to those readers who do know who these character are…enjoy! Time to open the red curtains!

****

Chapter One- The calm before…

The tunnel was a lot bigger since Marsus had loosened that brick five years ago. Though working in the near darkness hadn't exactly been beneficial. He could crawl into the tunnel now, and it was almost ten metres in length. Five years of observing the Guards routines had taught Marsus when to start tunnelling and when to stop. But as he got further and further from his cell, he had less time to dig before he had to retreat back to it, and position the bricks so the wall looked whole when the guards checked on him. Marsus was presently sitting in his cell, back against the wall, looking towards the cell door with a small smile on his face. The sitting around hadn't done his muscles much good, but he kept them up to standard by digging and exercising in his cell. His hearing had become very good, he could hear the marching of Legion boots on stone long before they got to his cell.

The prison guard stopped outside the door, and unlocked it. Another stood by, his spear at the ready, in case Marsus tried anything. He never had done, nor never would. That type of escape was for fools. The guard brought the bowl in, placed it on the rickety wooden table, and retreated quickly. He locked the cell door, and walked briskly down the corridor, followed by his partner. When they thought they were out of earshot they started talking, but Marsus could still hear every word.

"Gives me the creeps that one. Has never tried anything, just sits there and smiles all the time…"

"I reckon he's nuts."

"Did you hear what he did? Attacked the Divine Crusader! Sent assassins and bandits and Daedra after him, even a bloody dragon!"

Marsus groaned. The story of what he had done, and what his brother had done for that matter, had been exaggerated to legendary status. It had only been five years ago.

"He deserves more than fifteen years. Forty would suit him!"

"Yeah but you know the way things work these days. Everybody is just too damn soft!"

Marsus grew bored of the conversation, and it was fading in volume anyway. He stood up and looked at the grizzled Nord prisoner in the cell opposite him. Through several painful and repetitive conversations, he had learnt his name to be Gulding 'the Ruthless', though Marsus suspected that the title had been made up.

Gulding was asleep, and Marsus took advantage of this. He dismantled the bricks covering his tunnel one by one, and put a spoon in between his teeth, one he had kept hidden from the guards. He crawled through the tunnel. Navigation had been hard, as wooden supporting pillars encased by the bricks barred his way. He had started to dig across, but then realised that he had nowhere to store the large bricks that blocked his path. He then dug down, through the foundations of the building, and down into earth, which was bloody hard work. He had to spread the excavated earth evenly around his cell, and stomp it down, then cover it with the dead straw that littered the cell. The prison was so dark and dirty the Guards didn't notice the rise in floor level. All he needed to do now was dig outwards and upwards, and he would be free. Just another month at the most.

He climbed into his tunnel, and started to dig.

****

The Kvatch Fighters Guild was quiet in the dusk. Only a few people walked through the streets, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. On the third floor of the building, a man stood looking out of the oval shaped window. He was wearing a white shirt and green cloth trousers, clothes normally worn under his armour. The man's armour was currently on an armour stand. It was of Dwemer origin, and was tougher than steel forged by men. The blood red sunlight glinted off of it, making it look like a malevolent spectre in the corner of the room.

The man sighed, and tied his brown hair up in a pony tail. Despite how many times he had worn the Dwemer armour, it didn't feel like his armour. His real armour, the armour that he felt at home in, was in a basement somewhere in the West Weald, guarded by men who had once been under his command. By the Divines he missed it.

"Something wrong?" a woman's voice asked from behind him.

"Just thinking about what happened five years ago…I kind of miss it…"

"You still have me don't you?"

"It is just a minor whim of mine…don't worry about it…"

"I see…you fight your way up through the ranks from an Apprentice to the head of the Kvatch Fighters Guild, earn lots of gold and get married to the girl of your dreams…and your missing some armour?"

"…Yup…"

"You're a very complicated man Calvus…"

"Like I said, merely a minor whim…" Calvus said smiling.

He looked out of the window again. He couldn't place his finger on it but something was wrong. Not within himself but outside, like the air had become heavier.

"Something is wrong…"

"Come to bed…"

"Something is going to happen…"

Calvus felt two arms wrap round his chest from behind, and a head rest against his shoulders.

"I miss you."

"Its just something…"

"Fine…"

The arms receded. After a few moments Calvus sighed and turned round. Aranwen was lying on the double bed, the sheet draped over her naked body, making her look extremely sexy and desirable. She looked at him with her 'come to bed' eyes.

"Wow…" Calvus said, feeling the blood rush to a certain part of his body.

"You say that every time!" Aranwen said playfully.

"And I mean it every time…" Calvus replied as he unbuttoned his shirt.

****

Marsus clawed at the dirt blocking his path. He could feel the barrier between him and freedom thinning. He was closer to the outside world than he had previously thought. One last push was all he needed. He still had a few hours before the Guards would check on him, he didn't bother to disguise the dirt or the noise. Marsus' insatiable hunger for the outside world consumed him, and his hands bled as he hastened his progress.

"Just a little longer…" he said to himself.

****

Ciel Woodhart was awoken by a harsh barking of his company's sergeant.

"WAKE UP 101st LEGION, PARADE IN TEN MINUTES!"

The door closed with a slam. Ciel crawled out of his bunk and groaned, as did his fellow soldiers. The Breton hastily put his Legion Armour on, and within minutes was shambling through the corridors of the Imperial Legion barracks.

I fought at the Battle of Garlas Malatar and I get this treatment, he thought angrily.

Ciel had indeed fought at the battle of Garlas Malatar, and had been on the receiving endof the Divine Crusaders morale filled speeches. He had killed many Daedra that day, as had the rest of the 101st Legion, and that Legion got glory for the months afterwards. But the Legion had taken heavy casualties in that battle, and the dead men had been replaced with raw recruits and transferred officers. This sergeant was one of the transferred officers. Ciel stopped remising on former times and concentrated on what he was doing now.

He was blinded by the morning sunlight as he emerged outside, into a white cobbledcourtyard in front of the barracks. The courtyard was littered with weapon racks, crates of supplies and Imperial Guards on patrol. Ciel lined up with the rest of his platoon. The sergeant paced up and down the line, inspecting the troops. After several passes, he stopped in front of an Altmer.

"Is that a speck of dirt I see on your armour soldier?!" he bawled at the Elf.

"Erm…yes sir."

"Right! Time for a run! Lets go on that nice muddy bit in front of the prison, THEN YOU WILL LEARN THE IMPORTANCE OF KEEPING YOUR ARMOUR CLEAN SOLDIER!"

The sergeant turned on his heel and started marching out of the courtyard. The youngAltmer received muttered abuse and glares from the other Legion. The platoon marched through the white stone gate that led outside the barracks and the prison complex, and turned right onto the muddy grass.

"Line up!" The sergeant shouted.

The men fell into line. Ciel stood to attention, he was towards the back of the platoon. This was a favourite spot for a Legion solider, because you were less likely to receive the commanding officers spittle in your face.

"Right lads, three laps round the field, then back to- what the?"

The sergeant's gaze moved from the soldiers before him to something behind the lines of men. He leaned to the side and looked intently at something behind them. Ciel turned round, as did his comrades, to see a dirt covered man emerge from the ground.

****

Daylight! Marsus shoulder barged the wall of dirt, which collapsed inwards to reveal the outside world. He ran out into it, blinded by joy and the light of the morning sun of his face. He looked up at the sky and laughed. The sky was blue and he was free.

"Ahem!"

Marsus stopped looking at the sky, and looked ahead of him. Thirty Legion soldiers were looking right at him, confused and bewildered. Marsus stared at them for longer than he should have.

"Get him!" A voice cried.

"Oh bugger…" Marsus said.

****

Marsus came to. His blurred vision cleared, and he felt his body being dragged over steps. This was familiar.

"Where shall we stick him?" A voice asked.

"This one 'ere."

"That one is off limits!"

"Oh he'll only be in there for an evening or two, while we plug that 'ole up."

"Fair enough I suppose."

Marsus felt his body hit a cold stone floor.

"Enjoy the change of scenery maggot!" The guard said to him as he locked the door.

Marsus looked around the cell. It was slightly bigger than his previous one, but there were skulls and bones all over the place.

"Curse you Dibella." he said, trying to control his anger.

Then a slimy Dunmer voice from the opposite cell invaded his ears.

"Oh look, an Imperial in the Imperial Prison. Guess they don't-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP BEFORE I RIP YOUR FACE OFF!!" Marsus screamed.

The voice fell silent.

Marsus sat in the corner of the cell. He thought of the goddess Dibella, and the message she had given him five years ago. She had been beautiful, but now he realised that she was beautiful and deceiving.

"Bloody witch tricked me. Get out in five years! I'll be damn lucky."

A few minutes of cold silence passed. He lifted his eyes to look through the bars of the cell door. There was torchlight reflecting off the walls of the spiral staircase leading to the prison corridor, and the faint muffle of voices. Someone was coming down the stairs.

"More damn guards I bet…" Marsus said as he closed his eyes.

He listened to the sounds, and was startled to hear something he did not expect. He had spent five years listening to the boots of the Legion Guards trudging on stone floors, but these boots sounded different, less heavy steps, but somehow had more of a presence. There were three of them. He heard voices, but didn't listen to them. His ears picked up not just the strange boots, but a pair of soft shoes that trod lightly, as if they were made of silk. The pairs of shoes stopped outside of his cell. He opened his eyes, and glanced at the cell door. He saw three people in strange armour, and an old man in rich robes.

"What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off limits!" one of the people, a woman, demanded.

"This prisoner has a name!" Marsus protested, but they didn't listen to him.

They turned and talked quietly, so Marsus couldn't hear them. Finally one of them, an Imperial turned and drew a long curved sword.

"Get to the back of the cell prisoner, or you'll get this in your gut!" he threatened.

Marsus wasn't about to piss off a man who had a weapon when he didn't, and moved tothe corner of his cell. The man kicked the cell door open, making dust fly. He strode into the cell, followed by the other two, whom Marsus could only presume were guards, and the old man. Marsus stood in the corner of his cell, and looked closely at the old man. Helooked familiar. The old man caught Marsus' gaze and stopped in his tracks.

"You…I've seen you…"