Before the story starts, remember that this is my first fanfic. This is intended to be a rather long one, but that depends on how well I do, based upon your reviews. I already can guess at a few complaints, I know I tend to be a little too descriptive, but it's a habit I'm going to try to shake as time goes on. This prologue is mostly an experiment, for me to get used to writing in a different way from the essays I'm used to doing for college. So if you want a lot of action, you won't be getting it from this chapter. In the following ones, however, I intend to change that. But for now, just let me know what I need to fix, or change, for the next chapters. And yes, I am keeping these characters unnamed for a reason, though I may change my mind later.

*Updated* Based on the review I was given, I have moderately modified this chapter, though I am still unsure if I fixed all the problems or not. Also, I know this is rather boring for a beginning chapter. That's how it usually goes, and you can skip it if you so desire. As I said, this chapter was an experiment to get used to writing fan fiction, and it merely sets the scene.

The Return of the Forgotten

Prologue

"Have you finished yet?"

"No."

"Well, you may want to hurry, the Briarheart will be coming around soon," said the first man. He was a Breton of short stature, with a surprisingly, at least for a Breton, strong physical build.

The other man, a Nord of high stature and incredible strength, who had been digging with increasingly obvious fatigue and desperation into the rock wall of Kolskeggr Mine, turned towards his fellow captive miner, eyes narrowed to slits with frustration and annoyance, and lowering his pickaxe for a moment to rest.

"You're welcome to come try this yourself, you know, if you think that you can dig any faster."

Raising an eyebrow and leaning back against a wooden support beam, arms folded, the Breton calmly replied, "I've already done what I was ordered to do, and I was mining for an hour before you arrived. And you know they have an individual quota for each of us, enforced by that Forsworn guard over there." Nodding at the Forsworn in question, who was sitting at a chair he had moved to better see them, and make sure that they were doing what they were supposed to.

Noticing the movement, the Forsworn looked up from his book, The Legend of Red Eagle, and stared right at them for a few seconds, then went back to reading.

A shiver ran down both the captives' spines, as always. The fanatical intensity behind the eyes of their Forsworn captors was always frightening to behold.

Looking back at the Breton, the Nord said "I have been trying for awhile, but every vein I mine, I get next to no gold ore out of. It's ridiculous, almost as if the divines and princes themselves are trying to make damn sure that I can't make the quota." As he said this, to emphasize his point, he had picked up his pickaxe and was swinging it with an incredible amount of ferocity at every pause in the sentence, the memory of that intense gaze first and foremost in his mind. He knew if he didn't meet the quota, he would certainly die, and most likely in an extremely unpleasant way, if the mutilated bodies of previous captives who failed to meet the quota was any indication.

The Breton replied, saying "You may want to go to the western side, it was where I was mining, and it was fairly rich in ore. Also, I can't directly help you mine, but I can soften the rock over there with a shock spell before-" suddenly he paused mid-sentence, and frowned. "Hey, can you hear that?"

Without pausing in his personal war against the unforgiving rock, the Nord asked "Hear what? But first, what was that you were saying about richer veins you can soften-" Then he stopped as well, noticing something odd. "Wait a minute, the way this rock is vibrating…..it feels like there's an empty space behind it."

Stepping away from the support beam, the Breton moved towards the heavily abused ore vein that had been the source and recipient of the Nord's frustrations. "Yeah, that's what I was about to say, though rather than feeling it, I can HEAR a hollow sound when you hit the rock." Waving the Nord away for a moment, he put his ear to the rock, and drawing his hammer he used to repair his cart, started to tap the rock.

The Nord watched with even more frustration than before. "I really don't have time for this. I need to fill my quota, we can find out what's behind that rock later. Otherwise I'll be dead. And I'd rather not be dead. It makes discovering if there is treasure or something behind a random ore vein rather difficult."

The Breton ignored him, focusing on what he was doing, when he suddenly said, "Yes, this is definitely hollow. Here, how about you go mine at that ore vein over there. It had a fair amount of gold, and I didn't mine it all out. It should still be fairly weakened by the amount of shock spells I hit it with anyway. I'll see if I can't get through to this hollow area." Putting away his hammer and drawing his pickaxe, he started to strike the ore vein, before stopping after a few seconds and saying, "You weren't kidding. This one IS pretty tough. I'll have to soften it up a bit."

Raising his left hand, while still holding his pickaxe in his right, the Breton called up a Shock spell into his left hand, and began to blast the vein, using the concentrated stream of energy to soften the rock. Meanwhile, the Forsworn looked up at the commotion once more, and frowned at what he was doing, but saw that the Nord had picked up his pick and, following the Breton's advice, had gone to the indicated vein to try for more ore. Shrugging, the Forsworn guard, once again, returned to his reading, remembering the Breton having done it before, though wondering why he was mining again when he had already filled his quota.

After having shocked the vein for a minute or so, the Breton returned to striking it with the pickaxe. For about thirty minutes, the rock yet refused to give in to his endeavors, but finally, there was the sound of crumbling rock, and the vein gave in, collapsing outwards, with the Breton swiftly jumping out of the way of the heavy rocks, preferring not to have one break his toes.

Now the Forsworn looked up, and noticing with surprise the sudden appearance of a hole in the wall, closed his book, and got up to go over to the Breton, who was looking through the new hole, waving his hand in an attempt to clear the dusty, stale air.

Walking up next to the Breton, he asked, "What happens here?" Surprised, the Breton recoiled, turning to the source of the voice quickly. When he noticed the Forsworn staring at him from about 2 feet away, he was afraid he was about to die, when the words said by the guard finally registered.

Calming down somewhat, knowing that his life wasn't in immediate danger, he replied, "I noticed when the Nord was digging here that it sounded hollow, so I decided to direct him to another vein while I find out what is behind the vein. It looks like-" Turning back to stick his head partially through and look around a bit more to reaffirm his suspicion, he then resumed what he was saying, "yeah, it looks like it goes into the corner of some kind of passageway. While odd in itself, what's even stranger is that I don't recognize the structural design in the slightest. It looks to be even older than Nordic ruins-"

Before he could go into any more detail, the Forsworn raised a hand, cutting him off. "First, we should wait until the Briarheart comes down here to ensure you have fulfilled your quotas. Then I shall ask him if we can organize an exploration team. In the meantime, stay away from here. I'll not have you, or that Nord, especially, using this as a possible escape route."

The Breton was close to arguing, since he was eager to see what was in there, but then he recalled who he was talking to, and despite the calm way the guard had been speaking, he knew from just looking him in his zealous eyes, that arguing with him was NOT a good idea. Even if he was a Breton, which makes up the majority of Forsworn forces, he would almost certainly be beheaded. He had seen it happen.

So, he did what he was told, and backed off. The Forsworn guard stared him in the eye to make sure he would obey, and satisfied, went back to his chair, to wait for the arrival of the Briarheart. Meanwhile, the Breton, remembering, looked over at the Nord, and noticed with a grin he had managed to nearly fill his cart already. He must have hit even more gold than the Breton had expected. Good. He had seen enough death to last a few dozen lifetimes, at the very least.

Sitting down on a chair some distance from the hole, the Breton sat, and waited for the Briarheart to arrive.

-One-Hour Later-

When the Briarheart finally entered the area of the mine that the Breton and Nord had been commanded to dig in, the two miners had just fallen asleep, thinking he had gotten too consumed in his potion making to remember to check to make sure they had fulfilled their quota. And the guard was still reading his book, right up until he saw the Briarheart enter out of the corner of his eye, at which he swiftly closed the book and laid it on the table, ready for any commands that may be given.

Looking around, the Briarheart affirmed that the miners had done what they were supposed to, noting the mine carts full of gold ore. However, when his eyes fell on the hole in the wall, he stared blankly at it for a second, then he turned to the Forsworn who had been guarding the captive miners.

The Forsworn shivered at the eye-to-eye contact. While many not of the Forsworn knew that the Briarhearts are granted immense power at having the briarheart implanted in them, many didn't know exactly what the cost exacted upon them was; namely their will, and their lives. The Briarhearts are walking puppets of the Hagravens who implanted the false hearts, and when speaking with one, you were not speaking to the individual whose body stood before you, but through him, to the Hagraven herself.

"How did that happen?" said the Briarheart, pointing at the new hole in the wall.

The guard composed himself, knowing that it was foolish to show fear before a Briarheart. If one didn't seem strong of will, and devoted to the cause, then the Forsworn has no use for you, and since he himself was a Warlord, appearing that way would not bode well for him. "Around one hour ago, one of the captives discovered a passageway hidden behind the ore vein he was digging at."

"Neither made an attempt to escape through the passageway?"

"No, if they had, they would be dead, and they know it. However, they are eager, at least the Breton was eager, to see what might be there. He said something about how the passageway appears to be even older than the ancient Nord tombs."

That got the Briarheart's attention, or rather, the attention of the Hagraven that was controlling him. A well-known fact about the Hagravens was their intense interest in ancient, forgotten, and forbidden magics and artifacts.

"Gather the others, we are going to see where this passage leads."

Jumping to his feet, the Forsworn immediately went to do what he was ordered, even at his very high rank of Warlord, the Briarheart commanded obedience. But the Briarheart stopped him. "And wake those two up. They will be coming with us. They are the only two left anyway."

Looking back, the guard asked, "None of the others met the quota?"

"No."

-Half an Hour Later-

There were around thirty-five total Forsworn in the mine when the guard was done. The reason for the massive numbers was due to the Dragonborn having torn through Kolskeggr mine before, slaughtering the previous group of around 10, and restoring the mine to it's previous owner, Pavo Attius, and his fellow miner Gat gro-Shargakh. After a month however, the current group raided the mine once again. Using the new miners that had come to the mine as virtual slaves, and capturing more passing by on the road, they swiftly turned the mine into a fortress, knowing that the Dragonborn or other aspiring hero will likely come again to drive the Forsworn out. It has been two months since their return, and to their utter surprise, it has been rather peaceful. However, they kept the group at its full strength, knowing that they would need them all if the Dragonborn returned. Meanwhile, fifty prisoners had died during the course of their stay. While few had died at the beginning, more and more were killed as they failed to meet the quota, what with the mine itself running low on ore to mine out, culminating in the five that had been killed this day alone.

It wouldn't be long before they had to move on, and many of the Forsworn were glad to have something to do, after the two months of frustrating boredom, being incapable of raiding Nordic and Imperial caravans in their bid to keep the mine bunkered down. So when they heard of the mysterious hidden passageway, they jumped at the chance for exploration.

Meanwhile, in the front of the Forsworn crowd stood the two captives.

Glancing sidelong at his fellow miner, the Nord said, "You just had to find out what was behind that ore vein, didn't you."

The Breton raised an eyebrow, asking "What? Would you rather have waited till the mine was stripped of everything, and we were killed? I decided to indulge my curiosity, since I figured I might very well not get the chance later. And now, at least, we aren't making our arms numb swinging them at rock that seems determined not to break. It's a nice change."

"If by 'nice change' you mean the thirty heavily armed Forsworn standing all around us, then you must have had one harsh life, my friend."

The Breton shrugged, "They have no intention on killing us just yet, at least, not they themselves. I imagine they're going to use us as a handy way to see if there are traps."

"Forget what I said about harsh, if this is a 'nice change' to you, then what Plane of Oblivion have you grown up in?"

"Riften Ratway."

Surprised, the Nord looked at him for a second before apologizing, "Ah. Sorry I asked. But if that's where you're from, how do you speak so well? And know magic?"

Shrugging again, the Breton explained, "Got taken in by a mage when I was twelve, because I had been able to self-teach myself some magic using some old spell tomes I had discovered in the room, if you can call it that, of some old woman. Likely she was a witch who had been trapped down there, if the immense number of alchemical ingredients and tomes was any indication, and her reclusive nature. Basically, I managed to get pretty good at it, good enough to repel a couple of thugs using the basic shock spell, when I had needed to go near the surface to get food. The mage saw this, though why he was in the Ratway I do not know to this day. Anyway, let's just say he was impressed enough to take me in as his apprentice, teaching me how to use spells to a greater degree and effect, and taught me how better to read, write and speak. I could read before, obviously, though I was rather slow, and before then I had never needed to write. He died four years later, before he could teach me all he knew. I had guessed it would happen, as he was very old. I found work at Left Hand Mine for several years, and then got sent here. What about you?"

Mimicking the Breton, the Nord simply shrugged, saying, "I've had a relatively simple life, particularly in comparison to yours, I grew up in the Bannered Mare with my aunt, Hulda. Helped around a bit, though I preferred heavier, better paying work, as I got older. I got work at Iron-Breaker Mine in Dawnstar, though eventually I started working at other mines over time. Even though I'm a Nord, I still about froze in that mine. Eventually, when this mine returned to business after the Dragonborn cleared it, I wound up here."

Suddenly, both of them quickly stopped all conversation, along with the Forsworn, who had also been talking behind them, wondering at what was behind the wall.

The Briarheart was looking at them all, ready to give them orders.

Satisfied that it had sufficiently quieted down, the Briarheart spoke, "I need five volunteer guards, to keep watch while we're away.

A few stepped forward, thinking about how there might be traps that the first group will run into, and deciding to wait till later to explore the passageway.

"Good, now, all other Forsworn, follow me. And bring the captives."

Turning, he walked straight through the hole.

Immediately after, most of the Forsworn, including the Nord and the Breton, followed.

It was a decision all of them would come to regret, but by then it was far too late.