Prologue:

The night was cool and the air crisp, the sound of crickets ringing through the dark green grass. A soft wind rustled the browning leaves in the trees, bringing about a feel of serenity. The two moons hovered in the sky giving out a light glow that distorted the shape of the ancient Ayleid ruin in the distance. Nothing but the plants moved, and it seemed that they were the only life in sight.

Suddenly, a figure jumped down from a tree. It looked around before running off in the direction of the ruin. More and more similar figures joined it, building up a small army of silhouettes. The stopped maybe thirty feet from the entrance of the ruin, behind a marble pillar.

Standing under a crumbling statue of an elf holding a greatsword were two high elves guarding the spiraling staircase that lead to the entrance. Thalmor mages, sent from the Aldmeri Dominion. It was hard to believe how many troops had been sent into Cyrodiil as of late. They held rare and valuable Daedric weapons, scavenged from the Oblivion Crisis 174 years ago. Those weapons were the target of the small group.

A woman cleared her throat. "Okay," she whispered. "We've been trying to locate this store of weapons for months. If we get our hands on them, Rikvar thinks he can melt them down and enhance our equipment. We cannot blow this." She took off her helmet, modeled like the helmets of all other Blades. Her long dark hair fell back, and she swept it out of her eyes. Sighing, she wiped the sweat off her brow.

A second of these Blades spoke up now, a man with a gruff but high pitched voice. "Uh, no mean to impose Tennsa ma'am, but-"

"But what?" the woman, Tennsa, interrupted. "You think we can't take them?"

He nodded gravely.

Tennsa laughed quietly. "Well," she scoffed. "We may not equal their numbers, but those elves aren't as great as they think. We're Blades, not some riffraff militia from Bravil." Seeing that her speech was improving the mood amongst her squad, she continued. "They think that they can just waltz into our province, our Empire, and tear it down? I say no. It ends here, in Cyrodiil. We won't let them take any more of Hammerfell. We won't let them lay a finger on Skyrim or High Rock. We'll beat them back to their pathetic island for good!"

A resounding cheer met this, upon which each member of the group clapped their hands to their mouths. Tennsa peered around the pillar. The Thalmor agents had not heard them. They could breathe again.

Smiling around at her comrades, she put her helmet back on, and gestured for them to follow her. Swiftly and silently, they wrapped around the ruin. They had gone through special training to be able to be stealthy despite their heavy and cumbersome armor. The training proved its worth, for they were able to eliminate the guards at the door without them making so much as a sound.

The man who spoke earlier smiled at Tennsa. "I guess I understand now why they hate us so much. They were right to kill the agents in their territory."

Tennsa glared at him. "Gurthar, absolutely nothing validates their bloody massacre of my friends. You're new, so you never got to know them." She looked up at the stars, a pained expression on her face. "But I knew the names and faces of every one of them." There was a small pause before she spoke again. "Let's go. Be careful of traps, these ruins are rigged with them."

The stone door slid open without too much noise or effort, which was surprising considering its great age. Its name was Niryastare, positioned north of Anvil along a river bordering Hammerfell, the province of the Redguards. The area had been captured by the elves several years previously, making the mission into the depths of their territory highly dangerous.

Before the Blades was a long empty hallway. Slowly and quietly they made their ways down it, to see that it branched off to their left and right. On each side was a staircase with a guard in full elven armor at the top. This time they were noticed.

"Blades!" The one on the left shouted, his voice echoing through the stone passageways. Before he could take out the mace that was strapped to his side, one of the Blades rushed over and knocked him down the stairs with her shield. She then proceeded to unsheath a dagger, which she threw, hitting him directly in an opening in his armor.

The other elf looked horrified at her friend's death, and flung herself at Tennsa screaming, her face twisted in pain. Ruthlessly, Tennsa slashed her across the neck. "Let's go!" she shouted. "Our cover is blown!"

They ran down the steps and entered a chamber. In the center of the room was an opened cage that once held a varla stone, long since plundered by adventurers. More Thalmor soldiers and a mage were in this room, and they were prepared for a fight this time. The chaos and clanging of metal on metal filled the room, lightning from the mage's fingertips bouncing across the walls. The Blades eventually defeated their adversaries, but only after losing three of their members.

A girl knelt beside her dead friend, who was the one who threw the dagger previously. She was sobbing, running her hands through the bloody hair of the corpse.

"We can mourn the dead later," Tennsa said softly to her. "We need to make sure they didn't die in vain."

The girl swallowed her pain and nodded, tears still in her eyes.

One after another, the group made their way through the ruins, sustaining losses far less than the Thalmor. Eventually they made their way to the room in which the weapons were being stored. Racks upon racks of swords, daggers, axes, maces, and more, their black and red coloration glinting in the dull light. There were no more guards.

Unable to control their pleasure at securing the supplies, they rushed forwards and started packing them up.

The door opened. Tennsa turned around. Her face fell.