Elder Scrolls: The Fifth Era

by alnohighking

Eight hundred years have gone by since Skyrim's rebellion. When The World Eater and The Last Dragonborn had their clash above the skies. Now, a new age has finally been born.

Elder Scrolls

The Fifth Era

Alno Highking

Presented by GoldFox & Highking

I Do Not Own The License Of Elder Scrolls, Not The World, Characters, And Etc.

This product will never be sold as such.

Thank you.

Don't forget to leave a rating if able. Large or small, all reviews help out. Hope you enjoy.

The New Rift

5E 01

Riften, Skyrim

Birds dark as the city's past flew high above as dawn began to settle. The air had a cool feel against skin today, a good morning despite the responsibilities that were to be kept in only a short few hours. His brother in arms did well to hide his feelings, especially on duty, but Carna struggled to keep his disgust under control. He had always been a firebird, sometimes even at the worst moments. Today could fall under such.

Two men stood at their post guarding the entrance to the city wearing old steel head to toe beneath the colors of the new rift: autumn red and a white clean as winterhold snow of the furthest north.

Time drew slow on days like these, once every few months when Riften received more odd visitors then many would prefer. But such politics were now necessary. To win such a bargain after the catastrophic nature of the Third Great War on all sides, putting up with simple men and mer in fancy clothes with threats no more dire then a watchful mother proved more irritating than any danger they posed.

"What time?" said one of the guards. His eyes watching the road of mist and quiet carefully through the slits of his helmet.

"Hard to say," said the second. His red cloak curling below his knee as a soft drift complimented the cool air. "But they will be here. I'm sure of it."

"Fucking elves. They wouldn't be able to set foot in Riften if we didn't-"

"Hey! Keep your thoughts to yourself. We don't need the attention." The first guard, clearly the younger of the two spit to the ground with a hard brow but gave no complaint. He was right, Carna thought to himself. As a member of the guard, he should be better. His words now carry weight, much more then before. But that did not mean he was alone in his way of thinking. Far from it, perhaps it was even more reason to hold himself accountable. Because such questions as Why would the Jarl agree to such terms anyway? Such way of thinkingas We the new rift now hold the most strings to guide Skyrim's fate, yet allow the defeated to crawl through our roads and cities as they wish are not faint and brief whispers of the wind. They are potent as the cold each nord has come to love since their birth, with the growth of embers that stoke into a flame that can devour an entire forest and whatever else that lies in reach. As the past can imagine and teach, such intense pride and emotions could easily stray into something more then intended, then needed, and must be kept in check for the good of the north and its people.

"Carna," the older guard began, his eyes now hard forward compared to his usual simple gaze. The second guard reacted swiftly, following his eyes to the road ahead after recognizing the shift in his tone.

"They are here."

5E

A set of eyes looked past the moving sky of trees and few colorful leaves drifting to the ground as he took in the easy air compared to the bitter weight of home. "Tamriel … What a beautiful land, beautiful indeed."

"Another story! Another story!" asked a energetic voice of a child while pulling on his sleeve. The old pair of eyes found the boy with a head filled with dark hair and slivers of sand brown, showing a smile large as Skyrim's sky itself. The man requested for tales of old leaned his back against his newly made carriage, the ride smooth as silk as the little one looked up to him with awaiting eyes. Paying no heed to the gold threaded throughout his robe and little cloak, and jewels cast around his neck. The old set of eyes tapped his chin as if in thought while eying the child. He was quite the odd one in his family line, at his age he did not simply wish for the respect and power of legends, he was obsessed. As were his brothers and father, and grandfather before him. Though not this one… he did not wish to admit it, but the trait gave him a smile once for every few worries. But also a feeling that kept him confident, constantly whispering in his ear that the boy's path would be much different than he or his elders, much different indeed.

"Well then, what story would my little Aka wish to hear on this fateful morning?" The boy raised his posture and put a finger on his own chin. Taking his time to count through the many tales his father had told throughout their weeks of travel, and what would be the best choice for today. "The man who killed the emperor," Aka said firmly.

"Ah. You've been saving that one, havn't you?" The boy said nothing as his sly smile grew an inch further. "Ulfric Stormcloak. A troublesome man indeed." The boy's attention snapped forward the moment he heard the name said aloud. An act the storyteller did not miss. He let out a snicker before meeting Aka's brown gaze. "I do not see why not. Let us discuss one of Skyrim's greatest warriors… and to some, heroes." Along the smooth ride through the pale dirt path, they did just that. The boy attached to every word as his father spoke of the ruthlessness and passion of the Bear of Markarth, the despair and rage from the empires' betrayal, and the inevitable sacrifice the man chose to make to spark the third long and grueling great war, one that provoked forgiveness in many, and others to say it was long overdue. The time Aka and his father shared when telling tales always forced time fly away, and before long; a familiar clearing of the throat signaled the end of their fun after the carriage came to a slow as the dozens of horse riders around them did the same. A knock came after a good amount of footsteps could be heard.

"Enter."

The door wasted no time to open, revealing a thin wood elf carrying a small stack of books and quill in one hand across his side.

"My lord, I bring the nobles of the Fifth Dominion." With a step to the side, one in dark cloth head to toe stepped from the mist along with what looked to be soldiers of mer and men waiting at the carriage door and some still on horse behind them. She stepped with the class and demeanor that spoke well with her power.

"It does me well to see you in good health, King Forn."

"I am glad I can say the same, Justicar Omera." The elven woman turned to the boy now wearing a empty stare to the intruders of his father's tale.

"He has grown well." The King set a hand on Aka's head, regaining his attention again. "Yes, he has. You remember what we spoke of before, yes?" The boy nodded. Giving the old man another smile before the weight of his father's hand left his head.

"Good. Now, go on. I must complete my duty as ruler, and you must do the same as the next." Aka raised to his feet. Keeping his eyes on the king's for a long moment until he gave once more a silent nod. Neither had wavered. And when he turned, his sight found the elven woman in black. Looking up to her as a clear sky does to land. Then without a word made his steps into the mist of dawn, looking back as one of the elven soldiers shut the carriage door.

"… He is more aware then I expected," said Omera.

"Of course he his," King Forn said with a grin as the carriage began to move again. He is my son. None of my flaws, and far more interesting strengths."

5E

Aka continued to eye the carriage door. Inhaling the cool air and letting go a deep breath before turning forward and starting on his own path, exiting the confines of the road and into the mass of the forest. Unsurprisingly, he heard the steps of those who accompanied he and his father on this odd journey.

"Master Aka, I had no idea you were so interested in the leader of Skyrim's rebellion," said a familiar and already troubled voice of a particular wood elf. He thought he would keep going despite the silent and clumsy steps behind him, but it seems he and his legs had other plans as he stopped mid-stride within the forest's depths of leaves and turned his chin to the wood elf and the warriors of Forn. He recognized all of them. In truth there were three wood elves, a female and male with sharp ears and tan skin, each holding their well carved shortbow in hand. A argonian with coal and lava like scales, carrying with him a sword on his wast and a larger one on his back… and Orin, the third bosmer unlike the calm and graceful others in every way imaginable, and still having trouble to keep his balance while carrying all his materials. The warriors were quite popular back in Evermore. Many deeds done in the name of the the king, who was well known for gathering gifted individuals from the most random of backgrounds. And it was not a coincidence they now stood before him.

"Who?" Aka said with a high brow and sharp tone sharp. Orin finally came to a stop as well, puzzled as he adjusted his glasses in spite of the books just below his chin. "Ulfric Stormcloak, master Aka. You-"

"Why are you all following me?" Aka said quickly as if to hurry conversation.

"There is no reward where I am going. If you stay with the noble party, you will be able to find way back home as quick as a month's time." A certain silence ran through the air while he spoke. Already hinting at his father's doing.

"…He sent you."

"You thought the king would leave his blood to fend for himself alone at such a age?" Orin said while keeping his laughter under control.

"We are not bloo-"

"Master Aka," interrupted one of the three fangs of Forn. The bosmer woman stepping forth with a brief but respectful nod, bow still in hand. "I think that is enough." He eyed the confident one with a forgery of a glare. His instincts were right. A good choice as usual, father.

Aka returned attention to the broken path. He had not expected this… "Do as you like," he muttered as he continue on in his steps until a stray leaf, black as night caught his eye, drifting lower and lower. And just as it touched the ground, as if one of the gods had opened an eye, the world boomed and quaked, the wind shifted into a tide of whirlwinds, blocking all sound and cutting through the mist all the while.

Aka caught his balance, barely able to keep it as he quickly searched behind him. Orin was on the ground, unable to move in fear of being swept away, thankfully the hand of the male bosmer kept him steady while he was held in place by the argonian who had struck the blade at his waist deep into the ground to fight the power of the winds. And before Aka could blink, he found the woman's hand around his cloak. There was a careful eye about her at that moment. As well as the tear in her own forgery. His instincts had never lied to him, and today should be no exception. But before something could begin, a whisper, drowned in power and hunger made way to his ear.

"drun mok wah zey" Bring him to me

His limbs had gone stiff, and sight blurred as he fell to the ground. Feeling only the hand on his cloak become two, then the blades of grass against his cheek be replaced with the once again calm wind.

II

"Court wizard, I bring news from the city gates," announced a guard upon entering the library. His eyes darting left to right while waiting for response. Beneath the unnatural quiet of the relatively large space, a constant clink of glass could be heard along with a strong and sour smell.

"They have arrived?" the court wizard asked while continuing with her batch of fragrances, pushing a twirl of smoke from in-front of her work-station.

"Aigh," the guard confirmed while keeping his voice steady. "But folk have claimed this visit feels… different than past years." The clink of glass ceased immediately, followed by the one in fading blue robes and hood to turn to the guard, her yellow eyes gleaming in the nearby fireplace light.

"Different?"

The guard swallowed as her eyes found him, then gave her a swift nod in return.

5E

"We will arrive at the keep in no time, King Forn."

"Good," the king said while watching through the open view of his carriage. From his side he could see the world clearly, but from the out none would find him or the vehicle's interior. But the fact mattered little, as it could not hide the rage kept silent in the beautiful city of Riften. But the lone carriage found a way to blend with the city's goings, or more so was allowed as its people continued on with their day after offering their unsubtle glances and brief glares.

Forn studied Riften as a whole, spread with dark wood across its buildings along with silver strings and birds found high above its stone roads, where also vibrant red and white ribbons and pearls and gems laid sparsely throughout the city's corners as if a celebration had come and went within the last few days. As they passed through the city's center, a mass of stalls could be seen constructed in a circular formation side by side with plenty of potential customers among the lines customers as the sellers' aids stood nearby to pitch and boast for their shop's wares and services.

The king scratched his brown beard while eying the free market as they rode by, how much did the jarl retain in tax for each sale? He pondered quietly.

"Ah," the king said aloud before looking to the nobles of the Summer Isles. None were interesting enough to hold conversation with, or important enough to gather gossip. He would be surprised if any even lived on the isles knowing that woman.

"You," the king pointed. Quickly turning the heads of all three elven nobles, their long ears and emerald eyes fascinating to him as always. "Yes, King Forn?" the one furthest to their left across from him said with slight hesitation.

"Tell me… what is said about the rift's jarl?"

"If I may," the noble sitting in the center of the three quickly spoke. "In the eyes of her people, she garners the most respect out of the nine powers that govern Skyrim. She is also considered one of their greatest strengths, so much that the nords have already began to call her The Heart of The North."

The king turned to his window with a low whistle. "Heart of the north… what has she done to earn such praise?"

"If I may, my king!" another of the three spoke forcefully before clearing his throat. "Compared to her predecessors of the throne, the jarl has earned her share in affection quite fairly. From keeping a roof over the heads of the poor to seeping away unwanted pests such as bandits and dead guilds. I've heard she has even aided the success of Riften's market with her own coin."

The king continued to stare into the depths of the passing city, his eyes narrowing as the horses bended into a turn, following the approach to the entrance of Mistive Keep, where a warm welcome could be seen awaiting the carriage as expected.

"You know much about this land, nobles of the isles."

"W-well," the noble sitting at the center of three began with a broken laugh. "Araner and I have traveled a long ways to serve you, King Forn. How could we not know our way around such a new environment to aid your majesty in anyway we can." The king raised his brow by inches.

"Then he is not with you?" Forn said while gesturing his chin to the altmer siting across from himself. The two nobles did not even give the boy a glance.

"He is no more than a page, my king. Think nothing of him."

The king looked again to his window as the elven servant lowered his gaze.

"I see. Driver." One of two at the head of the king's carriage moved his head in acknowledgment.

"Yes, my king?"

"Stop."

Though the man gave a questionable gaze forward just as the horses began to cross the bridge leading to the keep, he obeyed the king's words. Pulling the mighty grey steeds to a quick halt. Those within the carriage looked to Forn with large and uncertain eyes, all aside from the servant. But the king paid no attention as he kept to his view where a rush of a small river flowed below the wooden crossing, he could hear its course maneuver against the dirt since entering the market's depths.

"Get out."

The nobles lowered their brows. "My king!" both pleaded. King Forn turned his gaze forward once.

"Not you."

He made sure to keep his sight forward until the servant's eyes were forced to raise. And in time, regardless of nerves or fear, they did.

"I did not mean any offense, King Forn; ruler of the wild-lands. But if I do not return-"

"You will not return. I'm sure you will do fine here." The boy's eyes fell to the floor again, his hands shaking.

"I will have no home. I have heard tales of mercy the great King Forn has shown. Please, I ask only for a small portion."

The king gave a simple nod before returning to his window to the world. The carriage door soon flew open to his right. Startling the boy and his elven compatriots.

"If I were you, I would find myself quickly, elven boy of Skyrim." The ward's eyes widened as a pair of hands grabbed hold and tossed him to the hard wood. When he turned back to the carriage's insides, the nobles only stared at him in silence before the door closed again, and the large man in steel returned to his seat to begin the horses' legs again toward Mistive Keep.

5E

Casanar was the first on his feet, his mind still somewhat foggy as he pulled his blade from the ground and slid it's form back into his leather blue sheathe after a firm swipe through the air.

"Is everyone alright?" he called while holding his head. Soon catching wind of the quiet, his eyes shot left to right. "Young master!"

"He is gone," spoke a low voice to the argonian's low left. "I believe Rina took him."

"Para… Why would you make such a accusation?"

"Just trust me. I know it to be true." The bosmer glanced to his rear where a pile of books, pages and a quill laid across the ground of dirt and leaves. "But he will not be alone for long."

"Yes… if you are correct, it does not surprise me that he is the first on her trail. Can you follow them?"

"Of course," Para said as he stood, after he had finished meticulously adding his arrows back into the slim quiver sitting just above his rear.

"His tracks head west, in a straight path," Para said as his eyes scanned the forest floor.

"He knows where he is going."

"As do we. Follow me."

III

"So… today is the day?" the old one asked with a coy smile as he stepped down to the central level of the throne room. Where steps away a low and brisk laugher accompanied the pouring of ageless and smooth grey wine. Made from the corpse of an old and unusual volcano. One of few to breath as much life as it has extinguished.

"Yes," the second confirmed with a smile of his own before raising a glass in both hands. His blood red eyes showing a shift of a subtle glow as he looked to his peer. "Let us share a toast." After reaching the sterling corner table and sneaking a whiff of the rare wine, the power and heat more than enough to smother one's senses, both glasses tilted upward.

"To the most mysterious ruler of the wild lands."

"To one of Tamriel's greatest kings." Both downed their glasses full within a blinks time. Letting out deep exhales after. The first eyed his glass for a moment after. Catching the reflection of his collection of wrinkles and healed open wound, where in-between the scarred tissue of skin and cheekbone and meat were as reachable as teeth. His voice had trailed dark and low in his few words after. As if memory alone had poisoned the good wine itself.

"May your end be as vibrant as your breton skies."

5E

At the barb, there was always something new to be heard. New information to be gained, exploited, sold, or simply shared for a laugh. The most common knowledge in the rift in recent years were the new paths travelers and wanderers should avoid due to the scattered and unrelenting groups of bandits upon the edges of the rift. They were always sure not to operate too close within the region to attract the jarl's full attention since she'd took the throne, but it wasn't a secret how well Riften has done for itself compared to the other holds of Skyrim. The kind of individuals that freed time to make visits to see and meet the leader of the new rift. And all did were hardly made equal; some had a way of watching certain roads, waiting to pounce like wolves, and alternating to another source of income or meal before too much word could spread. Some tended to fail in a single plan, and fell into the hands of Riften guards without a break of sweat. And some payed no heed to the obvious sources of wealth, because the real prizes would never come cheap. And there are many opportunities for a source of power to make coin in Skyrim, many indeed.

Locals tended to know everything under the warmth and cold before too long, but those a long ways from home tend to always be willing to pay good coin for safe passages after word was clear on the worst case scenarios, where instead of a rabble of thugs, a group of cutthroats with experience and skill received push back instead from the sources of food or wealth instead of following instructions. One did not pay for security for nothing, but one did not wish to lose their lives for coin as well. It is expensive, but when a passage is bought, the customer is never harmed or bothered. Not a single time.

Of the high and low of Riften, Jak knew the most aside from the powerful that reside in Mistive Keep. And he had learned long ago how to pick up on tendencies and odd occurrences, and when to keep his theories to himself.

But despite the spurring conversations and pouring of mead by waitresses, the yelling of the drunk and so on… Jak continued to keep to himself as usual. Continuing to wipe his sparkling clean glass with a focused eye. He was not like other bar keeps, he did not fix the drinks, order the meals or secure the rooms, in fact he barely even spoke. But still, everyone who sets foot in Riften knew who he was, and how to treat him. There were not many who could hold a candle to how loved and respected the jarl of Riften had become, but there is one, and Jak not only saved her life, but now served directly underneath her. There was no such thing as trouble barb for that reason alone. And that fact covered all facets of Skyrim's hierarchy in it's people.

Jak set down his glass for another, almost inseparable in quality, and began to wipe away. Unbothered by the newcomer who had just entered the inn, and stood out more then a bird gliding in the heat of battle. Most let the man be as his eyes swept the crowded floor and theirs briefly found him. But in no time at all he began to make his way to the counter where the tender and keep stood nearly a foot and a half over him, silent as he checked the reflection of the glass again before quietly deciding more work was needed.

The bird swallowed as he looked the large keep up and down before finding his words. But before one could escape his lips, the keep spoke with simple tone and finality.

"Take a seat." the keep said. The young man crunched his brow. "Thank you, but I am not here for a drin-"

"I know who you are," the keep said before raising his glance briefly once more, "Take a seat."

After a moment of thought and hesitation, the newcomer did as recommended and waited, and waited until the crowded floor of conversation was gone, replaced with the dimming of light and quiet. A few here and there left among the empty chairs, likely trusted regulars.

For the hundredth time of the night, Jak sat a glass onto the counter, catching the newcomers attention just before his eyes crept to a close. He said nothing as the two exchanged glances, before turning to the wall of stone behind him. Where now a gap now stood present at its center between shelves of beverages and supplies, wide as a doorway presenting a pathway deep past a single flame set onto one of the walls of the corridor.

The young man jumped to his feet after noticing. He knew it. Stepping around the counter with a hint of caution, sure to find the bartender's glance once more as if for permission. Yet now he did not stand with a glass or rag in hand to entertain or deflect. Now he only eyed the thin man. His gold eyes seemingly able to look through and examine another when called for.

"She is waiting." The newcomer swallowed before offering a nod to the keep, then turned to enter the path between stone. Only remembering to offer his tanks as the wall came alive to close off the path with a sound boom.

Soon he set off and followed the long and dark path lit only by sparse torches upon its inner stone walls. One found every few minutes as if a reminder that forward was true, and not a single opening or second path for doubt. And so forward he kept, on and on as the path bent right and left and so on until he had no idea if his steps remained within then city of Riften let alone the region of the rift. But his faith did not wane once, and was rewarded when eventually his legs that now moved without thought was forced to stop in front of a single door made of thick wood and dark metal embedded in its form. The first and only obstacle stood before him, face to face among the old walls of stone around him. Without a semblance of thought left in his mind, he knocked twice. And the door slowly opened, without the sound of one lock or bar.

Within sat a woman at desk, with a depth of brown hair running down her shoulders, yawning before moving her autumn gaze to the door and removing her glasses.

"… would you happen to be Ms. Robin?" The woman gave a smile as she leaned forward. "

"Your new."

"Y-yes ma'am. I am Acuris, one of the new set of couriers. Sent by King Forn. I apologize if I was late, finding you was rather tricky."

"He really doesn't hold a shred of. A high elf serving a breton king, by the gods."

"I speak the truth. I do not mean to disrespect yo-"

"Of course not," Robin said with a wave. "We will have to do something about that confidence. But you did well. Come in, I am sure we have much to discuss."

IV

Leaves spin through the calm air of the new morning as Rina tilted her chin above. The sun sill hid beneath the cloak of mist, but not for long. Now inches of light pierced through, tearing the air of gloom and muddy clouds that held the sky. Soon daylight will break, and their trials will truly begin.

With a subtle crunch of grass behind her, Rina opened her eyes. "Ah. I had almost forgotten…" she said before moving her gaze to the simple scholar where she examined the transformation before her.

"My, my; Casanar was right. You don't even feel like the same person."

"Where is the young master?" The bosmer snickered while shaking her head. "Even now, still loyal as ever."

"Where is the young master?"

"He is busy. Meeting someone very important." Rina aimed her chin to the entrance of a cave not far behind her. "He is in no harm, of course. I will not stop you. But-

"Lets not pretend like you could," Rina's associate declared before his firm steps began forward. Not taking long before reaching and passing her shoulder.

"But you cannot enter, Orin." Despite her words, the second wood elf's steps continued on. Pulling a simple sigh from Rina's lips as if the outcome had been plausible in her mind all along. "These are not my words, brother. It is the will of our king."

The steps behind her came to an abrupt end.

5E

Aka could feel the sleek nothing aftermath of the mist even in his sleep, along with something odd enveloping around him. A presence, once invisible to the eye to shifting and growing into a manifestation that now studied the lone intruder that laid in its wake. It was more potent than weather, stronger then muscle or bone. And in a blink it pulled the boy from his sleep, guiding Aka to ignore the unfamiliar environment around him, and find what could barely be seen. Forming slightly with the use of the curling mist.

"Unborn son of kings. Our meeting has been carved in fate since before I gained my voice and grew my wings," the deep and thunderous voice spoke in the darkness of the cave. "To speak plainly: this moment has been long overdue."

Despite the power erupting around him, the cave's insides shaking after each breath from what hovered before him, Aka stood. Aiming a quiet stare high as he shook the rest away.

"Who are you?"

"The details are none of your concern, young prince. As of now, I am your goal. Your peak. Whose steps you will inevitably follow, and power inevitably attempt to reach." The boy cracked a smile. "I have no peak."

"Hmmm. An answer most appropriate. But inconsequential none the less."

Aka lowered his head with a sigh, the strings of his hair dangling all the while as he fell into a sitting position with his legs crossed. "I have heard tales similar to this. By the way you speak, I can assume in some way we have some sort of connection?" Within the form of mist, the shape of eyes blinked in a stir of blue light.

"Deep as the roots of Nirn. But that also is not for me to tell."

"If there is nothing you can tell, then why am I here?" A slip of laughter shook ground. "There are many powers beyond Nirn that cannot be found by mortal eyes, no matter how hard you search. But in your tongue, you are here today by the will of two individuals that history will sadly one day forget.

"… My father."

"Yes. King Forn, the first true king of breton homelands since Emeric. I can still remember how the land earned its new name with the flood of chaos before he finally elevated to his throne and devoured all of the little kings of High Rock."

"… then who is the other?"

"Queen Sharu. Your mother of birth." Aka reveal a shaky breath as he eyed the form above him. Cautiously willing to enter unknown territory. "I do not know their relation, but somewhere throughout time, he alone was chosen as a worthy successor, and accepted her gift and task of raising a son when he could not forge one of his own."

A silence came over the cave. Lasting only seconds, but leaving the feeling of longevity.

"It is a tragedy. He is different then the others I have witnessed. But all must come to find a end eventually." Aka smiled. "Tragedy, you say?" the boy said, his voice wavering.

"These are not tears of a boy, but a man."

"They are."

"You do you not resent them?"

"… I do not."

"Wish ill for them or their loved ones?"

"I do not."

"I see. I can feel your focus, the hunger surging through your blood. There are no lies. You eye much further than them, and those after.

"But you will destroy them still."

"… I will."

V

"I will do as you wish." Forn aimed a simple stare to his old enemy and ally. But do not forget our agreement, justicar. I have well equipped insurance in case you or your friends forget. But you of all people should know that detail."

"Yes, more then aware. I will give him four years, but that is all." The king uttered one of his grand laughs, loud and proud, the kind he had become known for after a great battle in banquet and feast. "More then plenty."

"If that is all then farewell, King Forn."

"Don't forget to enjoy yourself while in the middle of the hunt, Omera. Even you elves should value time. Eventually, it becomes as delicious as victory."

"…I will try keep that in mind."

"Sure you will." The carriage door came to a sound close before the steps of steeds and wheels pushed on through the thin mist. Just after warriors clad in golden armor and skin took no time at all to reach the side of Omera and the few elves standing around her in the depths of the rift. More then a few of rode on horseback, but there were on the foot as well. Moving in crisp strides and cautious but hard eyes.

"Justicar Omera. What is so spacial about this child that King Forn would go to such lengths to protect?"

"I do not know. Perhaps it is love, perhaps not. Regardless, it is not a trick. He will do as I requested, and the child will have time to hide or do as he wishes. It makes no difference to me."

"Do you believe he could become a threat?"

"Perhaps. I've learned well that anything can happen when Forn is involved." The altmer standing behind the justicar peered around to her comrades for a moment. "Then… why have we yet to find the boy?" Omera turned to the high elf at her rear with a low brow. "Does it not make sense to hold a agreement with-"

"I do not think I could be more clear with my words. The agreement will be held- without question, and spoken of to no one."

"Justicar Omera… I do not believe that is wise. A threat no older then a pup should be terminated as quickly as-"

The agent's words cut off as soon the chained flail was embedded through her armor with the ease of a blade peircing cheese. It's position no higher then her neck, now holding her slightly upward as her knees buckled and the light of her eyes faded. But before she could lean forward, Omera's hand gently found her chin and tugged upward. "In the next life, be sure to know your place."

5E

King Forn's steps were the first to find the ground and entrance of Mistive Keep…

Author Note

First I'd like to thank everyone for reading this little introduction of sorts. A good amount of you tried it out, and I really do appreciate it. If you didn't know, this little series will have to end earlier then I expected. For those that didn't read fifth era on gumroad, you know that the story had to be removed from Ibooks, smashwords, Kobo and etc for obvious reasons. Which is also where the most people read it sadly. It was a pretty firm reminder that I was right to have my hesitations, and that it isn't in my best interest to the thinking about and creating something in a world or IP I don't own. Which is why the chapters didn't come out on time or as large as I was intending.

But as is life. It is probably for the best. Chapter V will be the last entry before the end, and will come soon. Until then I will return to working on the projects I've put on hiatus since returning to the experiment that is Fifth Era. Thank you again, and sorry if you are disappointed. I hope that the stories and worlds I have to come will make up for it. I'll make sure that you won't have to wait week to week to see what happens next when they arrive.

Enjoy the rest of your day and 2019

-Alno Highking

For more reads, continue on to preview some of the upcoming and available projects. Link in my bio.

Until next time.

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Sun Maker: The Fourth King Of Magic

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Project Fool: Fool Or Wise

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Project Smoke

A deal is a deal. No matter the odds. Even if the wrath of stars may fall upon the head of the genie.

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Utopia Series

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After an entire era, finally the facade of peace begins to fade. But what happens after the facade is no more? For some, old ambitions of conquest are allowed to burn anew. Stragglers may dig up enough resolve to risk it all for their place in history. Or... perhaps the opportunity for vengeance has finally reared its head for a certain eye.

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