The Reachman: Prologue, is your gateway to an epic adventure of heroism and humanity. Fifty years after the end of the Oblivion Crisis, war has ravaged the southern provinces and the threat of invasion looms in the north. The new Empire of the Fourth Era fights to keep hidden a terrible secret upon which peace in Tamriel relies.
Follow Sean Finn, author, historian and now the greatest threat to the Empire as he uncovers a conspiracy that stems back to the years preceding the Crisis and beyond.
Read, Critique, Enjoy.
1
01 Sun's Dusk 4E09, The Battle of Gold Road - 25 miles northeast of Skingrad
"In the name of the Nine Divines I pray for my immortal soul and those of the men I now lead in battle. Safeguard and see us through to victory, but if we should fall may our spirits grace the plains of Aetherius and our sacrifice be worthy of remembrance. Amen."
The young Imperial captain patted down the milky white mane of his horse, gently combing it to one side. His steed whinnied with satisfaction. This caused a stir among the other horses lined up side by side beneath the crest of a hill overlooking the valley below. The horses were restless, their riders anxious. The ground was covered in a thin layer of frost that cushioned every step like soft sand. Wintertide was late coming this year to the thanks of many who knew the hardships of combat in thick blankets of snow. Frigid temperatures and crisp dry air made breathing painful. Steam from their warm bodies and exhaled breath hung overhead like a gathering storm cloud in the distance – a warning to their enemies and a sign of hope for their allies. Hidden somewhere behind the rolling hillside was the greatest assembly of military forces since Tiber Septim battled the Akavir at Pale Pass.
With great ferocity and unmatched determination did their enemy now march upon the lands of Cyrodiil. The Army of Julianos they called themselves - zealots, crusaders, fanatics, lowly criminals and mercenaries fighting alongside mages, cavalrymen and warriors of the finest Breton Houses. All of them converts on the "path of the Ternion" a term reserved for pilgrims loyal to the strict teachings of Julianos – patron divinity of literature, history, law and justice through the examination of contradictions. Only the Divines with such omnipotent power can see the rationalization of such a contradiction as peace through war. If Julianos does indeed ride with the Breton armies, what hope is there for us? Born within the Iliac city-state of Daenia, the Army of Julianos had assimilated the entire southern territories of High Rock in a matter of five years, from Urvaius to Dwynnen. Whatever sinister ideals or Divine blessing drove them to violence, the Legions of Cyrodiil would now bare the full brunt.
It was not typical of the Divines to involve themselves so heavily with the affairs of the mortal world, a characteristic associated with Daedra and their mischievous and destructive acts. But within the walls of the Imperial City stood the towering stone dragon of Akatosh, proof of the Divines who in all their mercy and wisdom had delivered Cyrodiil and its people from complete destruction not ten years earlier. What terrible deed have we done to deserve the wrath of such a formidable enemy? He prayed. Father Julianos? He who I have tried to dutifully serve all my life, how have I wronged you? Will you not spare me and the lives of my men? Will you not spare the lives of those we ride against?
Pounding hoof beats signaled the approach of one of his scouts.
"Captain Berengeur! Word from General Hassildor! Captain?"
"Here Corporal." The Captain turned his horse and flagged down the approaching rider. "What news from the front?"
"General Hassildor has engaged the main army but they are not in the expected position!"
"How far off?"
"Four hundred meters to the south!"
Out of range. The row of heavy catapults lined up behind him would not be able to provide covering fire for his cavalry when they attacked.
"Sir, the front is holding for now but there are just too many! They'll break through if we don't –"
"That's enough Corporal." The Captain silenced.
Unfortunately he was right. Just seven hours prior, General Hassildor outlined the importance of opening up two fronts during the battle, engaging the enemy with foot soldiers and archers on the front lines supported by cavalry and artillery from the left flank. Although the cavalry was superior in skill and experience, it would not survive long without support from the seven artillery batteries positioned high above the battlefield. If I only had a hundred more horsemen…
"Sergeant!" Captain Berengeur called for the head of his artillery battery.
"Sir?"
"How long to pack up and move your company?"
"Where to?"
This time the Corporal answered. "Sir, given the location of the enemy we'll need to reposition at least three hundred meters forward along the same elevation."
"Where Corporal?"
"Over there!" He answered pointing to a high ridge to the southwest.
"That'll take us at least half an hour, maybe more."
"The battle will be over by then Peter." Captain Berengeur's second in command, Senior Leftenant Caleb Ozark, whispered. "The General is relying on us."
The young Captain did not answer.
"Sergeant, move your battery to the ridge and immediately engage any targets you find."
"Yes sir!"
The Sergeant began barking orders to his men who scurried about packing up ammunition and breaking down equipment. The cavalrymen exchanged glances of worry and confusion. Peter Berengeur tried to look like he knew what he was doing.
He called for his Corporal. "Ride to the other batteries and pass along the new enemy positions."
The Corporal saluted and took off at a brisk gallop to the west.
"Prepare the men to move out." The captain ordered. "Signal the regiment to assemble on my position – five men across, ten deep."
Caleb was a true son of Skyrim, warrior to the bone, but his eyes betrayed the fear stewing inside him. His contingent was less than four hundred horsemen strong. Peter knew that Caleb disagreed with the order, but he would never countermand a superior officer in front of his troops– even if that officer was a lifelong friend. Caleb nodded in respect. The Nord relayed his orders to the signalman who translated the message by flag to the remaining members of the cavalry regiment.
Groups of horsemen emerged from the woods overlooking the hills of County Skingrad, confused but obedient. The ground thundered with the sound of hundreds of horses bearing their heavily armed riders. Captain Berengeur watched the road from atop a nearby hill beneath the branches of a dead tree; the golden Ankh - standard of the Army of Julianos, came into view ahead of a column of ten thousand soldiers.
Castle Kvatch, Thirty five years later
It must be here somewhere…
He searched diligently, checking the charred bindings of every book and scroll sprawled across the ash-blackened floor. Where are those damn books? Residual heat trapped beneath piles of stone rubble made him sweat even as cool air penetrated in from the open air balcony. Darius Berengeur stood erect and arched his back. He was sore from having spent nearly three hours looking through the remains of the entire Kvatch City Library before deciding to search the personal office of long-deceased Count Ormellius Goldwine for a third time. When the pain in his lower back became too much to bear, he slowly trudged across the room and sat cross-legged on the floor eventually allowing himself to lie down. His eyes were heavy and soon he began to feel sleep overcome him.
"Still no luck?" A voice asked from the doorway.
Darius did not open his eyes.
"I might as well be looking for a needle in a stack of needles. 'Bout as painful too."
He never would have been so informal with anyone other than his father's most trusted military commander and uncle. Caleb Ozark wasn't really Darius' uncle but as a fellow soldier and mentor, Peter Berengeur always counted Caleb among family.
"Your father told me I might find you here, buried beneath whatever was left of this Library. He didn't exactly understand why though."
The elderly Nord sat himself down onto a desk that creaked as the weight of his heavily armoured body strained the damaged wood. He quickly jumped to his feet and instead chose to lean against a wall.
"I see you've been reading up on the 5th Legion and the Battle of Gold Road." Caleb thumbed through the pages of a book Darius had discarded, piled neatly atop a mountain of texts: The Wrath of a Divine; Authored by Sean Finn. "He was just a young Captain back then but damn was he ever the bright one. Saved the lives of so many people with his stunt –"
"Perhaps the greatest military upset in recent history thanks to the brave cavalry charge on the enemy's left flank!" Darius interrupted. "It never ceases to amaze me, even after hearing about it for the hundredth time."
Caleb gave Darius a disapproving look, much like a father would stare at a child reluctant to do his chores.
"Nephew, your father made the right decision appointing you head of the cavalry. You are a fine rider and I would be hard pressed to find anyone who could escape the accurate aim of your bow, but you are not and never will be your father. Your time will come soon enough and I have no doubt that history will judge you just as great a warrior as Peter."
The Nord outstretched his hands and offered to help the young man to his feet. Darius stood and embraced his uncle who towered several feet over him.
"It's only a few regiments." Darius downplayed. "Captain Sifridius is the real commander and rightfully so. He is a skilled officer like you Uncle, not to mention he brought an entire battalion of horsemen with him when he left the Legions. Speaking of which, how was your trip to Gideon?"
"Even in wintertide, Black Marsh – sorry – Argonia is a bit too warm for my liking."
"And the Legions? How are the men?"
Caleb let out a long controlled breath.
"It's bad Darius. So many have come from the Legions to join your father here in Kvatch that Emperor Balderic has had to abandon many of the further outposts including almost all of Argonia. Morale is low, desertions are high and punishments are severe. Most of the Legion soldiers from Argonia have been reorganized to defend Bravil from the Elsweyr Confederacy. Those Khajiit have truly carved themselves a big piece of the pie since the Wars began."