The empire had collapsed. No-one was entirely sure why or how, it had just simply happened one day. Chancellor Ocato had disappeared, weather he was dead or alive was a subject of much speculation. The royal coffers were empty, so some said that he had run off with all the gold. Others claimed that it was the work of some especially skilled thief or assassin.

The reality, though, was that it was now very nearly every man for himself. In Cheydinhal and Bravil the counts and guards had been slaughtered and the citizens were in charge. In Cheydinhal it was the Orums, in Bravil it was simply the mob. Leyawiin was under the stewardship of the fighters guild, who had all retreated to their headquarters, and Skingrad was under siege from huge bands of Marauders.

There were only two cities that retained complete control, however. The Imperial city was now under the command of the watch captains, who ran things within the city much the same as before. And in Bruma, the Countess had done an excellent job of holding the citizens together and organising them.

One of her initiatives was that the number of guards be greatly increased. Every male Nord over the age of eighteen was to be armed and under the command of the captain of the guard at all times. That much was simple. The two blacksmiths spent every hour of every day manufacturing weapons and armour, although their supplies were sadly limited. Since there was no longer any trade between cities, they could only use what resources they could find locally, which only included leather, fur, and iron. The smith at Nord Winds could heat the iron enough to make steel, but this was a slow process. While they could outfit one man a day with iron, it took nearly a week to outfit a man in steel.

This then resulted in dozens of raw recruits pressed into service with nothing to their name but a shield and a spear. The spears had been another of the Countess's bright ideas, they could be made quickly and were easy to use even for the most inexperienced militiaman.

One cold and windy morning, the ageing countess looked out from her window in the castle at her city and thought that she hadn't seen it this energised since the great battle of Bruma over twenty years before. The sound of blacksmiths hammers reverberated around the walls, and in the castle courtyard a guardsman was drilling the raw recruits over and over again.

One of these recruits was young Uhtred, who was trying his best to get used to the unwieldy and heavy spear in his hand. Without thinking, he slung the rusty iron shield onto his back so as to hold the spear with both hands, and the guardsman was immediately onto him like a wolf onto a horse. "You trying to get yourself killed, you weedy little inbred?" he screamed, his face inches from Uhtred's. Uhtred shook his head mutely, and the guard grabbed the shield roughly and pushed it into his hands, making him drop the spear.

"Shield IN FRONT, you dozy little twat. That where the enemy's coming from, not your bloody back. Pick up that damn spear."

Uhtred bent down and picked the weapon up, fighting the urge to punch the guardsman on the jaw. As he straightened up, the man was already walking away to shout at somebody else, which gave Uhtred time to try and calm himself down. He knew that there was little to be gained from becoming angry at this time, he would save it for when he could actually do something about it. The tavern later seemed a good idea.

His musings were interrupted, however, by more shouting nearby. The guardsman was now addressing all of the new levy, pacing up and down with his sword drawn, looking daggers at each one of the young unfortunates.

What he saw was a line of ten young men, all expressing their nervousness in different ways. Some were looking angry, others looked frightened, but most looked resigned to their fate. Inside, he smiled to himself. The angry ones would be the best, he thought. The rest would either learn quickly or die suddenly. If they were scared of him, they stood no chance against a seasoned bandit who wanted to take their guts out for fun.

"My name!" he shouted after he had finished his brief assessment of the condemned "Is guardsman Ivar. You will call me SIR. You will do everything I tell you to, learn everything I teach you, and listen to everything I say, and you might actually live to see your families again. You're completely under my control now, which means that if I think you're a liability, or an idler, or if I plain just don't like you, I can kill you and nobody will ask a thing."

It was working, he thought. Those who had seemed resigned a few moments ago were beginning to come down on one side of the fence or the other, becoming scared or determined. He continued.

"The first thing im going to do is to pair you up. That way, if you get killed your family has someone to blame, and if you do something wrong, I get two people to punish. Now."

He walked along the line, numbering the recruits. Those who looked angry, he numbered 'one'. Those who looked scared, he numbered 'two'. When he had finished he spoke again. "Right, ones over there, twos over there. Get shifting."

Uhtred went with the rest of the number ones over to the appointed area. He couldn't believe his bad luck, getting stuck with a trainer like Ivar. Could he really kill them without consequences? Uhtred didn't think so, but he wasn't entirely sure…

"Right!" said Ivar "You with you, you with him, you with that one." he went on, pairing up the wolves with the sheep. Every angry recruit got a scared recruit to look after. "Now, stand with your buddy. Good. You and your buddy will look after each other in every way. You help him, he helps you. You fuck up, he gets punished as well. You get wounded, he looks after you. He wants a hand job, you give him one. Clear? OI! What are you laughing about, scumbag?"

Uhtred did his best to stop giggling. He bit his tongue and his lip, he clenched his jaw, but nothing was quite enough. Ivar walked up to him. "Am I amusing you, you clap-ridden son of a whore?"

"No Sir."

"No sir. Laughing at yourself then, shit for brains?"

"Yes sir."

"You a bit of a looney then?"

"No sir."

"Don't lie to me son, you're a looney. Why did I get lumbered with the worst bunch of useless pieces of shit in the whole damn city?" he walked off. Uhtred swore under his breath and looked at his 'buddy'. The boy was about the same age as him, but shorter and leaner. He had a fur shield, with a white tunic and short cropped hair. Classic office boy.

At the same time, Ivar was looking at Uhtred and praising his own luck. The boy was everything a recruiter could hope for. True, he wasn't much to look at in his sack cloth tunic, coarse linen trousers and long blonde hair, but he was big. Certainly the broadest of the bunch, and nearly the tallest. 'Thank Akatosh' Ivar said to himself 'He's sent me a barbarian.'

"RIGHT you snivelling bunch of piss-flaps. I might not like it, you might not like it, but im going to train you. Im going to make it so you can look at an enemy without wetting yourself, and then kill him without tripping over your own feet. First we need to get you all as big as looney over there" he pointed to Uhtred "How'd you get so big, looney? Giving rough hand jobs?" Uhtred shook his head. "Farming sir." he grunted.

"Farming sir? Farming? Shite, ive been given a fucking farmer. Well, since we don't have a fucking farm for looney here to milk bulls on, everyone hold your spears out, sideways, with your arms straight. First man to drop his spear wins a night on the battlements with his buddy. Do it."

So Uhtred and the rest stood as still as they could, their arms burning with the effort, for minute after agonising minute. After about five minutes, it was Uhtred's 'buddy's' spear that clattered onto the flagstones.

"Well done puny, you and looney get a night on the battlements. Now, you're all going to do some press ups. First one of you to stop gets my boot on his ribs. Go."

The rest of the day was more of this. Ivar swore, the recruits grunted, and Uhtred got steadily angrier. Finally, the sky began to darken and Ivar lined the sweating, gasping and aching recruits all up again. "Ok, you see those tents there?" he pointed to five rotting, stinking tents set on the stone flags "That's where you're living. Each of you in a tent with your buddy. Food is over there" he pointed to a nearby house "and ill wake you up bright and early tomorrow for some more fun. There are guards on every gate and every wall, and ive told them what a useless lot of wankers you are, so if any of you try to run away they'll be very happy to kill you. Go get your food."

The food was a loaf of bread between two, and a bottle of ale each. Ivar cornered Uhtred and his buddy and sent them off for their night on the battlements. "And if either of you tries to nap" he growled "You'll wake up without a hand. Now get out of my sight."

So the two sloped off to the cold and windy battlements with their dinner and settled down on top of the gatehouse. The wind chilled them to the bone, the snow soaked them through, and their breath turned to clouds of mist in front of them. Uhtred tore the load of bread in half and handed half to his buddy, who looked about as miserable as he could get. They ate in silence for a minute or so before his buddy spoke up "Im sorry." was all he said.

"Sorry for what?" asked Uhtred, taking huge bites out of his half of the bread.

"Landing us here for the night." replied his buddy, picking his bread apart and nibbling it.

"Did you do it on purpose?"

"No, of course not."

"Then don't be sorry."

His buddy smiled weakly. Uhtred grinned back at him. "What's your name mate?"

"Egbert." replied his buddy, who was now trying to get his ale open.

"Uhtred. Need a hand with that bottle?"

Egbert nodded and Uhtred took the bottle from him, twisting the top off and handing it back, before opening his own ale and gulping it down thirstily. "So what do you do?" he asked Egbert, trying to keep the conversation flowing. "I was a clerk for the black horse courier. What about you?"

"Oh, I was a farmer. Well, farmers son. You ever done anything like this before?"

"Like what?"

Uhtred gestured at his spear, which was propped against the wall. Egbert shook his head, and Uhtred grinned again. "Me neither. Think we'll have to fight?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you seem like the clever type. You reckon anyone will attack Bruma?"

Egbert looked back at the town for a second, evidently thinking. He sipped his ale, gagged slightly, then spoke. "Probably. It's a rich town, and it's a good place to launch attacks into Skyrim from. But they'll need to take the Imperial city first."

Uhtred frowned "Why the Imperial city?"

"Because the road to Bruma comes from there. If anyone marches on Bruma, the soldiers from the Imperial city can hit them in the rear, while the soldiers from Bruma hit them in the front."

"Like a sandwich, you mean?"

"Sort of, but a lot more blood."

Uhtred laughed and tried to scrape some of the rust off his shield with a pebble. "I was right, you are clever." Egbert smiled. "Clever, but tired." he said.

"If you want to sleep," said Uhtred quietly "I'll wait up and wake you if anyone comes along."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

So Egbert slept, and Uhtred sat and wondered at the absurdity of the situation. A farmers son and a clerk, freezing themselves to the bone on top of a windy gatehouse. What an odd world.

As the sky began to turn from black to deep blue, Uhtred nudged Egbert awake and they sat and made small talk for an hour or so before Ivar appeared next to them, almost silently, and bullied them back to the castle courtyard for more training.

"Ok shitheads, today im going to teach you how not to get killed. Its so simple that even puny here might manage it. Shield in front of you, that's it. No lad, don't hold it against your chest, what happens if an arrow goes through it? Six inches out, there you go. Now lets see how good you are."

To every recruits surprise, Ivar drew his sword and walked to one end of the line. "Ok," he said "If you're good enough, you'll be fine. If you're not trying hard enough, you'll be dead." he raised his sword and brought it swishing down, hard, on the first mans shield. The man cried out in pain at the shock on his arm, but the shield held up well and he lived. It was much the same with the others, until Ivar finally got to Uhtred. He grinned, then chopped down as hard as he could on the edge of the shield, cutting through the fragile iron rim and slicing two inches into the wood, but the shield didn't move an inch. Just as he hoped.

Next was Egbert, who looked terrified. Uhtred knew that Ivar would show no mercy, and that Egbert would never have the strength to hold off the blow, especially not with the fragile fur shield. So when Ivars sword swished downwards, Uhtred elbowed Egbert hard in the ribs, sending him sideways. The sword only glanced the shield, and Ivar was furious. He made both Uhtred and Egbert run five times around the walls while he chased after them, bringing the flat of his sword down onto their backs constantly.

The pair fell back into line, panting heavily with their backs aching terribly. Ivar seemed hardly out of breath when he stood in front of the line again, and he was even more pleased at Uhtred. Strong, protective and angry. All the kid needed was a bit of training and he would be lethal.

So training is what Ivar gave them. All day he hammered on shields, knocked heads together, tripped people up, and taught them how to parry a sword blow with a spear. Uhtred learned quickly, and almost all of them were getting the hang of it by the evening. All except Egbert, who simply couldn't move fast enough. Uhtred encouraged him, Ivar shouted at him, but try as he might he just wasn't capable. As Ivar constantly reminded him, the day Egbert went into battle would be the day he died.

Which meant that it was a scared and despairing Egbert that sat with Uhtred in their grotty tent that night, picking at his bread and sipping his ale long after Uhtred had finished eating. The pair of them ached all over, especially on their backs, and neither was feeling much like talking. But Uhtred forced himself to, because he had just had an idea that could be an end to all Egbert's troubles. He described his plan to Egbert, who smiled for the first time that day. "When do we try?" he asked.

"Too late today. Tomorrow, right after training."

"If I live till then."

"Don't be stupid, you're not going to die while im here. Lets get some sleep, this time tomorrow we'll be laughing."

It was a good plan, thought Egbert as he curled up on the bedroll. A very good plan that could either sort everything out, or make things ten times worse. Luckily, they were both gambling men.

The next morning they were both in good spirits. There was something about knowing that everything could be sorted out by the time they went to sleep that made the day seem so much less daunting.

Although, for Uhtred at least, the day wasn't that bad at all. Ivar lined them up in a row facing a wooden dummy that had been 'rescued' from the fighters guild and gave them his customary morning greeting. "Good morning, arsewipes. Yesterday you learned how to save your own life, today you're going to learn how to take somebody else's." He carried a long, thin stick. "You're going to come up here one at a time and im going to point" he jabbed at the dummy with the stick "At where I want you to spear the bugger. If you miss, I wont." he brandished the stick at them "If you hit, I might think about giving you a morning off. You first."

So one by one they took turns to jab at the dummy, with varying degrees of success. Some hit well, some hit badly, others missed the dummy entirely and got Ivars stick over their backs. When it came to Egbert's turn he got hit no less than three times, once for being slow, once for missing, and once for dropping his spear.

"Pathetic, puny. Piss off back in line and lets see if your bum boy can do any better. Looney, go." he pointed the stick at the dummy's head and Uhtred jabbed hard, so hard that he had trouble getting the spear out of the wood. Ivar hit him. "Clumsy bastard." he shouted "Do better this time."

So Uhtred jabbed at the dummy's gut, hitting perfectly. Ivar hit him again "Too slow!" he bellowed, although it wasn't at all. He simply wanted to see how good his barbarian could get, so he poked the stick at the shoulder and Uhtred struck like a snake, hitting perfectly again. But still he got the stick across his legs. "Twist, you useless piece of crap, TWIST!" so Uhtred jabbed the spear at the dummy's chest with the speed of an arrow, twisting the spearhead in the hole and pulling it out. Ivar didn't hit him that time, but didn't let him know how good he was either. "You've got a lot of work to do, looney. Get back in line. Everyone, press ups, get going."

In the evening they were released again, but instead of going to their tent, Uhtred and Egbert wandered towards the castle before they had even eaten. The guard at the door challenged them; "What do you want?"

"We want to see the countess." Uhtred answered, doing his best to look impressive but not threatening.

"Why? Old Ivar getting too much for you is he? Want to be locked up instead?" he opened the door "be my guest." he said, grinning.

The two entered, and immediately felt out of place. Two ragged leviers in a hall full of fine masonry and red carpeting. Their spears were taken off them, and they were told to wait on a bench. Egbert began to panic "Are you sure this is going to work?" he asked nervously.

"Nope." grinned Uhtred "But it's the best option. it's the only option."

"I hope it works…" said Egbert, to nobody in particular. Uhtred nodded silently. He too was beginning to have second thoughts, but didn't have time to dwell on them because a guard appeared in front of them and gestured them towards the throne where the countess sat. Very humbly, they walked towards her and bowed. "What can I do for you?" she asked in a friendly tone, although it was clear that whatever it was, her decision would be final.

"Well," began Egbert, blushing deeply. Uhtred took over.

"Your highness," he said, wondering if that was the right way to address a countess. A snicker from the guard told him that it wasn't, but he pushed on. "You know the new garrison that you're forming? Well, Egbert here, he isn't very good at soldiering."

"And what do you want me to do about it?" asked the countess, with an edge to her voice that told Uhtred that he had about thirty seconds to get to the point before they were thrown out.

"Sorry, your highness. I mean, my lady. Well, the thing is, he's not very good at soldiering, but he's very bright."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Well its just that, well, we noticed that you don't have an aide. And, well, maybe we could kill two birds with one stone. He could become your aide, so he would be doing something useful for you instead of spending all day waiting to die the moment he goes into battle."

Uhtred knew that he could have phrased it better, but he was panicking now. If she said no, Egbert was doomed. He dared to look at her face, and saw that she was thinking. Egbert was practically shaking next to him. Finally, the countess spoke, looking over Uhtred's shoulder. "Is that ok with you, Ivar?"

Uhtred looked behind him and almost died. Ivar was standing a couple of feet away, looking at him intently. Without a word, he nodded. "Well then its settled." Smiled the countess. "Egbert, you start tomorrow, and can sleep in the servants quarters tonight if you wish. Was there anything else?"

Uhtred shook his head and understood that he was dismissed. With a grin to the stunned looking Egbert, he turned to leave but was checked by Ivar. "Follow me." he growled. Uhtred knew he was in for it now, but he didn't know how bad it was. Would he just get a beating, or would Ivar kill him? As he followed Ivar to the guards barracks, he thought about running for it. Only the fact that there was no way he would escape stopped him.

Ivar let him upstairs into his room and shut the door after him, reaching into a chest and pulling out a number of objects that Uhtred couldn't quite see. Then he turned and Uhtred jumped. The man was actually smiling.

"So." he said, eyeing Uhtred up and down "the looney isn't so looney after all. Why did you do that?"

Uhtred thought for a second "I didn't want him to get killed sir."

"You didn't want him to get killed. Why not?"

"Because he's more useful alive, sir."

"I didn't know the boy had a use. You do realise that because of you, ive just lost a recruit?"

"Im sorry, sir."

"Bollocks you are. Do you know why ive brought you here?"

"To punish me, sir?"

"No. At least, not yet. No, I brought you here because I think its time you learned why im so hard on you."

"Sir?"

"Im hard on you, looney, because you're the best. Oh yes, the rest of them are just fine, but you're the only one who I would put money on. And if you're the best, then you deserve at least better than the worst."

Uhtred was puzzled "What do you mean sir?"

Ivar stretched out a hand "Pass me your shield."

Uhtred did so, and Ivar put it on the floor, then stamped on it hard, snapping the wood and bending the metal. "That's what I mean. Its like giving an excellent painter a squirrels tail and a bottle of grease to work with. If you're going to be excellent, you need decent gear. So," he rummaged around in the chest again and pulled out a round shield, painted black and white, with a wolves head painted on the front. "you can use this, since you just broke your own. I got it from a corpse at Kvatch."

"You were at Kvatch?"

"I was, when I was much younger. I was in the legion then. One more thing, you no longer have a buddy."

"No sir."

"So now you're my buddy."

"Sir?"

"Buddy, sergeant, whatever you want to call it. Now piss off, im tired."

So Uhtred, his new shield on his arm, walked back to his tent and spent an hour wandering what the hell had just happened.

The next morning Ivar woke Uhtred even earlier than usual with his customary kick in the ribs, and explained to him his new duties. "First, you have to make sure this lot keep in line. They're starting to get used to this life, which means they'll start getting cocky. Second, you have to keep them happy. They're bugger all use to me if they don't want to live. And finally, you have to make sure they're scared of you. You know why so many men are bad leaders, sergeant?"

"No sir."

"Because they want to be liked. They spend too much time worrying about what the men think of them and not enough time worrying about what the men can do. As long as they do what you say, that's all you want. If they like you, its just a bonus. Do you like me?"

"No sir." said Uhtred, knowing it was the answer Ivar wanted, although he was getting quite fond of the old bastard in a strange way.

"No sir. But you still do what I say. Now its not only more duties you get, you get some rights as well. You can hit who you like, im not going to hit you in front of the men, and you get your tent to yourself. Clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Good man. Your first job as sergeant is to get this lot on their feet, on parade, in five minutes time. Get shifting."

So Uhtred started being a sergeant. He took Ivars words about being liked to heart, and imitated the guardsman to a T. He kicked, he shouted, he threatened and he chased the men into line It was only afterwards that he realised none of them knew he was sergeant. His new shield was the only symbol of it he had, apart from that he was still in his stinking clothes and long, untidy hair.

Ivar motioned Uhtred to stand beside him in front of the men. Drawing his sword and pointing it at Uhtred, he looked each man in the eye and said; "This man is your new sergeant. He's allowed to do everything im allowed to do, which includes killing you if he feels like it. Now, today we're going to put everything together. You know how to block, how to stab and how to parry. Today you learn how to win a battle. You four, line up there. You four, over there." as the men moved, Ivar and Uhtred both noticed that they moved very differently then they had when they had started. None of them looked scared, all of them had beefed out slightly, and they moved together well. So the training was working.

"Ok," shouted Ivar "Me and the sergeant are going to demonstrate how to make a shield wall. You lock your shields like this," he slipped the left side of his shield behind the right side of Uhtred's "and never break that gap. A gap in your shield wall means you're dead. Do it." the men locked their shields, and Ivar walked up and down the lines adjusting them and hammering on them until he was satisfied. Then he removed the bag he was wearing around his neck and tipped the contents onto the ground. Out fell several wooden tubes, covered at one end and open at the other. Ivar walked to the corner and picked up a spare spear, then slipped one of the wooden tubes over the top.

"Everyone put one of these over their spearhead, then get back into formation as quick as you can. And you better do it bloody perfect, or the man facing you wont have a wooden tube."

As soon as the shield walls faced each other again, Ivar began bellowing. "Ok, here's the rules. Bash whoever you like, wherever you like. Your aim is to make the wall break, and if that means taking some teeth out or knocking someone senseless, that's fine by me. Go for it."

The walls approached each other slowly and hesitantly. Nobody wanted to be within range of anybody else's spear, and when the walls met they took a while to get into it. Eventually, one of the walls broke and the teams separated. Ivar walked in between, looking disgusted. "When you do it this time," he barked "Remember you're trying to kill the bastard, not tickle him. If me or the sergeant think you're going too slow, you'll get a spear up your arse. Try again."

The magic threats had done their trick again, and the walls came towards each other confidently, and it wasn't long before one young man was on his back, dazed from a blow to the head. Ivar kept them going at each other, over and over again, until he was confident that they were as good as they could get. Then he lined them up.

"I didn't tell you this earlier" he said, pacing up and down "because I didn't want you to get happy. But this was your last day of training, much good might it do you. If you get killed now, its your fault not mine. You'll be pleased to know that you're still under my command, and you'll be even more pleased to hear that you get time off. The duty roster will be put up in the chapel undercroft, where you will live from now on. So piss off over there and get settled in. Sergeant."

Uhtred stayed while the rest of the men, too exhausted to celebrate, sloped off towards the chapel. Ivar walked up to him and handed him a strip of black cloth. "Tie it round your arm so that everybody knows you're a sergeant. And go get that roster off your mate, if he hasn't finished it give him a kick up the arse."

When Uhtred finally found Egbert's office the aide was inside, looking harassed and rushed. Uhtred walked in and plopped down in a chair facing the desk. "Guess what?" he grinned, showing Egbert his black armband. "I heard." said Egbert, not looking up. "Well done mate. Are you here for the roster?"

"Yeah, have you done it yet?"

"Nearly." Egbert looked up and grinned "Just tell me when you want to be on duty."

"I get to pick?" asked Uhtred, surprised.

"Well, not officially, but I owe you and nobody will find out anyway. You have to do four slots a week."

"Slots?"

"Midnight to midday, or midday to midnight."

"Ok, how about… Monday morning, Wednesday morning, Friday morning, and Sunday morning?"

Egbert scribbled down the hours on the roster and handed it over. "There you go. Come see me sometime, if I ever get all this work done."

"What do you have to do?" Uhtred asked

"Well, its mostly military. Rosters, unit duties, billeting, weapons distribution, weapons production…"

Uhtred left to office five minutes later, regretting asking Egbert about his work and making a mental note never to do so again.

The next few weeks passed without incident. When he wasn't on duty manning the walls or off duty telling somebody off, or asleep, he would spend his time in the tavern, or chatting to Egbert in his office. He occasionally saw Ivar when the grizzled guardsman came into the billet to make sure nobody was having too much fun, or simply because he felt like hitting somebody. Late winter became spring, which became early summer. Every time Uhtred walked into Egbert's office, he asked if there was any news of the rest of Cyrodiil, but there never was. Who was to carry it?

It was late one night, while Uhtred was getting in Egbert's way for fun, that it happened. There was a sudden commotion outside and Uhtred, revelling in the idea that there may be somebody to punish, ran outside, with Egbert hot on his heels. They made their way to the source of all the activity, which turned out to be the southeast tower. Bullying his way to the front of the crowd with Egbert following in his wake, Uhtred saw it.

White gold tower was on fire.

It was easily identified. A pillar of flames rising high into the sky, with a number of smaller fires nearby. The imperial city was being attacked, and it looked like the defenders were losing.

"Make way now, make way", a gap opened in the crowd and the countess herself appeared, flanked by four guards. She took one look and asked, "How long ago did they start?"

"About five minutes ma'am" answered a nearby levy. The countess turned away and made her way back to the castle, and Egbert followed dutifully. Uhtred followed as well, eager to find out what was going to happen, and by making sure he looked like he was with Egbert he was able to gain entrance to the countess' dining room without incident. As he waited near the door, prominent citizens and guardsmen entered and each took a seat around the long table, ad Uhtred realised that this was a committee; a collection of those with influence, resources and wisdom. The countess was certainly doing things properly. As the last of them took their seats, Uhtred heard a gruff voice in his ear; "What you doing here, looney?"

Uhtred turned to see Ivar standing beside him, watching the meeting. "Nothing sir, just waiting to hear weather we get to fight or not." he answered, making Ivar smile ever so slightly.

"About time we did" he growled "about a hundred new men, and im sick of trying to find jobs for them all. They've got the training, but they need the experience."

The pair stood in silence, listening to the discussion. The problem was clear: going to the aid of the imperial city would be a gamble. If they saved the city, they could be sure of a solid alliance. But if they got there and there was nothing to save, they would have left their own town less protected for nothing. Argument followed argument, and things eventually became quite heated. Finally the countess, who had said very little, stood and waved her hand for silence. The whole room seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the final verdict.

"I will" said the countess in a loud, clear voice "send troops to the imperial city. A third of our force, two thirds of which will be the levy. The rest will be made up of guardsmen. This force will be led by Captain Thorsson," she indicated a large, bearded man to her left, and Ivar groaned "and will leave as soon as he has picked his men. Goodnight to you all."

The meeting adjourned, and Ivar motioned that Uhtred should follow him. He led Uhtred to his room in the guard house and produced a bottle of wine and a bottle of mead, which he passed to Uhtred. Taking a deep swig from his bottle of wine, he spoke. "I don't envy you, looney."

"No, sir?"

"No. You're a sergeant, so he'll pick you."

"I thought you said I needed the experience sir."

"You need experience man, but experience of a battle. Not a bloody slaughter like that bastard will give you."

"Sir?"

Ivar sighed. "Thorsson is an officer of the old school, which means he's obsessed with death or glory. Now I don't have a problem with that idea when its just one man going for it, but when its one man sending sixty other men towards death or glory, that's a really easy way to turn your army into meat."

Uhtred grinned, despite the guardsman's bitter words. "it's the enemy that'll be meat, sir.", making Ivar bark out a laugh.

"That's the kind of talk I like to hear, looney. Now let me give you some advice; first, get yourself another weapon. A spear might be good in a shield wall, but once it goes beyond that you want something smaller. An axe might do you. Secondly, once the battle's over, get yourself as much kit as you can off the dead. Ours, theirs, it doesn't matter. It's the only way you'll get it."

Uhtred nodded. He was about to ask weather Ivar would be coming, but the door burst open and Egbert appeared. "Ivar," he said, enjoying the fact that he was allowed to call the man by his name "You and your lot are going. It wasn't my choice, im sorry."

Ivar looked stunned for a second, then grinned. "That's ok puny, just a pity you're not coming with us. When do we leave?"

"Half an hour."

Egbert left the room, and Ivar grinned. "You know what, looney?" he asked "I feel almost young again. Now go and gather up the lads, tell them they're going to have a fight. Ill meet you by the gates."

Half an hour later Uhtred and Ivar were reunited, along with their section. It was beginning to rain, and the force was beginning to form into a column. As Uhtred was tucking his new axe (skilfully 'borrowed' from Nord Winds) into his belt, he found Egbert at his side. The young man was looking bashful, as if he didn't quite know what to say. Uhtred too was lost for words, so he simply extended his hand. Egbert shook it, and then was gone without a sound. From ahead came the order to march and, drenched, cold and nervous, the army moved out towards what would be, for many, their first battle. And for most, their last.

When Uhtred stood in the shield wall, facing the largest band of marauders he had ever seen, he noticed two things; first, that the levy were in the front line of the shield wall, with the more experienced and better equipped guardsmen behind them. Any intelligent commander would put his best troops in front to make absolutely sure the line wouldn't break.

The second thing he noticed was that the enemy force was much larger than their own. Every warband of marauders in Cyrodiil must have joined together to attack the imperial city, and each one was experienced. Yet Thorsson was trying to defeat them with a much smaller force comprised mainly of raw recruits who had never seen a fight before.

Nevertheless, Uhtred stood his ground. He was on the left flank of the shield wall, with the rest of the men from his squad. Ivar was behind, with all the other officers. Then the order came to advance, and almost everybody hesitated. The order came again and slowly, ever so slowly, the line began to move. Uhtred could feel the man on his left shaking, and the man on his right was praying. Fear spread through the ranks like a disease, and Uhtred felt it creeping into his heart. For a second or two he faltered; his legs wouldn't work, his shield and spear felt heavy, and he knew that the place he most wanted to be was anywhere but here. His bowels clenched, and he thought about turning and making a run for it. And then the first arrow hit his shield, and he realised that there was no way out. They were trying to kill him, so he would have to kill them.

More arrows were hitting the wall now, drawing grunts and screams from those hit by them. Gaps began to appear in the wall, and nobody thought to close them. Everyone was concentrating on trying to make his shield cover his whole body, and still the line moved forwards. Then the enemy charged, with a ferocity that took everybody completely by surprised. Most were still in a state of shock when the enemy charge hit the wall, smashing the centre to pieces in a hail of arrows and bloodthirsty violence. Uhtred watched as if it was a dream, everything seemed to be going at half the usual speed. He watched a spearman have his head split in half by an Orc with a claymore, his brain and skull turning into bloodied strips of nothing. He saw a man on the ground with his guts spilling out, and another with both his legs removed. Uhtred had never imagined such terrible sights, nor had he ever noticed just how fragile life was. Death was everywhere that day, and Uhtred resolved to fight it with every ounce of strength.

So when the enemy reached his section of the wall, he steeled himself. He held his spear as level as he could, and aimed it at the throat of an armoured enemy coming right at him; when the man got close Uhtred thrust his spear forwards, and to his surprise it hit true before his opponent could parry it, tearing the mans throat out and sending him reeling backwards. Almost immediately afterwards, Uhtred found himself in the thick of the battle. The whole line was engaged now, and there wasn't a single man who wasn't fighting for his life.

Uhtred left his spear in the marauders throat and pulled his war axe from his belt, holding up his shield to protect himself from the constant arrows that rained down on the battle like a storm, causing havoc for the levy. The marauders were all clad in at least a plate metal cuirass and the guardsmen had their mail and leather hauberks, but the militiamen had nothing more than a shield. For every one marauder that died, several screaming young draftees fell to the ground. It was, as Ivar had predicted, a slaughter.

Uhtred did all he could. He swung his axe like a hammer onto the enemy, trying to find weak points in their armour. He punched with his shield, he ducked and dodged and parried, but eventually found himself up against an opponent that he knew was far out of his league. It was an Orc, at least seven feet tall, brandishing a claymore as if it was nothing bigger or heavier than a dagger. The Orcish armour glinted in the dawn light, and seemed to cover every inch of flesh. Uhtred knew that the best he could hope for was to stay alive until somebody helped him.

So he weaved and leapt out of the way of the great blade, trying and failing to find time to get a solid hit on the massive Orc. And he was tiring now, he had been fighting for the best part of half an hour; his shield arm ached, his axe arm burned, and his legs felt like nothing more than bread. He knew that his time would come soon.

And indeed it did. He hesitated for a split second, and the great sword crashed down onto his shield, knocking him to the ground. The Orc saw his opportunity and raised the claymore high above his head, swinging it in circles to make the killer blow all the more powerful.

Then Uhtred saw his chance. Moving like a cat, he shot his arm out and hooked the head of his axe behind the marauders ankle, and pulled hard. The ground was wet, and the Orc was off balance. He went to the ground like a ton of bricks, giving Uhtred time to scramble to his feet and aim a solid blow at the Orc's face, which struck true and bit in deep. A bellow of rage and pain, a shudder, a spurt of warm blood, and it was done.

But the battle was still being lost. Uhtred could see guardsmen retreating, and Thorsson was nowhere in sight. It was all but over, and Uhtred saw nothing but marauders around him. He knew that the battle was lost, and he also knew that there was no retreat for him. The only reason he wasn't yet dead was because he was kneeling on to ground over the Orc's lifeless body. Fighting his way out was not an option, and neither was surrender. The only way out was to play dead.

So Uhtred lay on the ground and, with some difficulty, pulled the Orc's carcass over him. There he lay, absolutely still, listening to the sounds of a battle ending. It was growing quiet, with an occasional scream or laugh, and the sounds of the rain falling on metal and flesh, on living and dead. It was these sounds that lulled Uhtred to sleep.

He woke at around midday, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was and why he was there. Heaving the heavy body off him, he sat up warily and looked around at the battlefield. All around him were lumps on the earth, men who had been living, breathing and laughing not twelve hours before, but had been cut down in the great slaughter, in the name of 'Death or glory'.

Uhtred stood slowly, half expecting to get an arrow in his back, or to hear a shout. But everything was silent and still, even the rain had stopped. There wasn't another living soul in sight, so Uhtred began to walk around. He wasn't even sure what he was doing, the enormity of the slaughter he had just lived through had left him stunned and confused. He couldn't keep his thoughts coherent for long enough to come to any conclusions, and he didn't know what to do next. Bruma could be in flames, in which case it was pointless going back there. The Imperial city could still be standing, or it could be another slaughter yard. After a minute or so of thought, Uhtred decided the best he could do was to try and find anybody he knew, and any useful equipment he could pillage from the dead. It wasn't long before he found the remains of his squad mates, laying close to each other, each one of them stone dead. One was spitted with arrows, another had lost both his arms. Near them was a body without a head, and a leg without a body. In Uhtred's imagination, battle had been a noble and clean business, where men lived or died cleanly, and great heroics were performed. But as he stared down at the reality of brutality, slaughter, terror and mutilation, he felt his preconceptions of warfare shatter. There was nothing around him that suggested anything other than a massacre that should never have happened.

But brooding would get him nowhere. He foraged amongst the dead, taking anything he could possibly use. It was difficult, most of the armour on the dead was ruined, and many of the weapons were broken. Occasionally he would turn a body over, checking to see if it was anybody he knew, and saw many familiar faces. There was a man he knew from the tavern who spent the nights singing for drinks, and the chatty guardsman from the castle gate. Ivar, thankfully, was nowhere to be found. Alive or dead.

As the sun began to recede, Uhtred looked down on the collection he had amassed. There was a chain mail cuirass that was undamaged but for a neat hole in the back, evidently caused by a spear. It had been on the body of a young female archer, who's eyes stared unseeing at the heavens as the wind blew her long hair across her cold face. Although she was obviously a marauder, Uhtred couldn't help but feel a stab of pity. Such a pretty thing.

There was also a pair of stout chain mail boots, taken from the same body, as were the gauntlets. They just about fitted Uhtred, mercifully, but his real pride was his new weapon. It was taken from the great Orc that he had killed, the huge steel claymore. Uhtred knew all too well the fear that the great sword could cause and found that although the weapon was unwieldy at first, once it was swung it took little effort at all, and built up a surprising momentum. He swung it at dead marauders for a few minutes, slowly getting used to the feel of it, and was surprised at how it could crack steel with a single blow. It also helped bring him back to his senses and focused his mind, so that he rapidly decided where he should go. The marauders would have gone to Bruma, and the outcome of that battle would not be influenced by Uhtred. Bruma would stand or fall, and if he went there he would simply die. The imperial city would at least be free of marauders, even if it had fallen, so he would go there. He didn't like the idea of leaving his friends in Bruma, but he was much more use alive than dead and besides, the walls of Bruma were high, and its garrison large. The chances of a successful defence were good.

So Uhtred, his new sword strapped to his back and clad in chain mail, with the wolves head shield slung over his shoulder, made his way southwards from the field of the dead towards, he hoped, a city of the living.

He reached the Imperial city at dusk. The fires were out now, and from the far end of the bridge over lake Rumare Uhtred thought that he could see the closed gates. A small glimmer of hope appeared for, if the gates were indeed closed, then the city perhaps had not been breached. But what of the fires? Where had they come from? And what if, if the garrison survived, they thought he was a marauder and killed him on sight? All that Uhtred could think to do was raise his arms high in the air, keep his head down and hope for the best, but as he crossed the bridge there were no shouts. The light of hope began to fade, and then was extinguished completely as an arrow thudded into the stone at Uhtred's feet. As another flew over his shoulder he looked up and saw something he never thought he would be glad to see: a member of the imperial watch, pointing a bow at him. Uhtred raised his arms higher and shouted that he was a friend, from Bruma.

"Stay there!" commanded the watchman, and Uhtred stood stock still, his arms still raised. He stayed still for minutes, hearing the murmur of voices on the walls above, until finally there was another shout;

"You have five bows pointed at your chest. Lay your weapon on the floor, someone's coming out to fetch you."

Uhtred very slowly pulled his sword from his back and laid it gently on the stone flags of the bridge, and heard the gates open very slowly. Out of them emerged four men clad in the plate armour of the legion, grim faced and tough. When they reached him, one of them picked up the sword and two of them grabbed his arms. A third drew his longsword and poked it at Uhtred's back, and he was frogmarched inside. He made no struggle or protest as he was led through the gates and into a huge tower, where the watchmen led him into a room where two of them waited with him. One of them held the huge claymore, and the other had removed the wolf shield and was examining it closely. Neither of them spoke.

Minutes passed and Uhtred made no attempt at conversation. He knew he was being treated as a prisoner, and if he was ever going to convince them that he was an ally, he would have to be humble. He could see the sky outside darkening steadily as he waited, and still neither of the watchmen said anything. Uhtred began to wonder if anybody was actually coming.

Finally, someone did come. A watch captain in his silver and gold armour walked through the door and nodded to the watchmen, who left with Uhtred's shield and sword, leaving the captain alone with Uhtred. So they trusted him slightly, at least.

The captain sat at the table and pulled a sheet of parchment towards him, then rummaged around for a pen. Finding one, he dipped it in an inkwell and began to write slowly, saying nothing. Uhtred was too busy admiring the armour to notice, he had never been to the imperial city before and so had never seen armour the likes of this. The guards of Bruma and the watchmen who patrolled the roads wore armour that was merely functional and nothing else, but this armour was beautiful. It was so highly polished that it glinted even in the half-light of the small room, and the gold inlay was perfect. Not a single fault could be seen. Finally the captain looked up and said a single word: "Explain."

So Uhtred explained. He told the man everything, from the militia raised by Bruma, to the great slaughter earlier that day. He told how the guards had seen the city burning, and how the countess had sent a small force to come to its aid. The captain seemed to be writing his words down as he said them, but stopped when Uhtred mentioned Ivar.

"Ivar?" asked the captain "Big fellow, shouts a lot?"

Uhtred nodded, and the captain grinned, screwed up the sheet of parchment and threw it over his shoulder. When Uhtred gave him a questioning look, he laughed loudly.

"That was for your trial, we were convinced that you were a marauder. Im sorry but the shield from Kvatch made us suspicious, and the big sword is exactly the kind of thing a marauder would use. But, now that you've mentioned Ivar, im inclined to let you live. I assume he gave you the shield?" Uhtred nodded. "He said it was from Kvatch."

"Obviously its from Kvatch lad, I was there when the old rascal got it. Oh yes, I was there. Of course, I was just a legionnaire then, like Ivar. Then he went to Bruma to be a guardsman in a quiet town, which of course was a mistake when you remember what happened to Bruma. I stayed here and ended up as a captain! Ivar would love that…" he stopped talking suddenly. "He wasn't killed in the battle was he?"

"I couldn't find his body, sir."

"Sir? Ha! Don't call me sir lad, im not Ivar. Im sure he loved drilling a batch of fresh new recruits, didn't he?"

"He seemed to enjoy it a lot."

"Of course he did, the evil old sod. Well then, if he gave you that shield he must have liked you, though I bet he didn't show it. So if he liked you, I like you. Oh damn!" he turned around and picked up the crumpled parchment. "Ill need to tell them about the battle and how the countess tried to help us. Could mean an alliance."

"So where did the fires come from, if you weren't attacked?"

"Who says we weren't attacked? They tried to come through the sewers, the cheating swine! So we got a mage to send a few fireballs down at them, but he was a bit too enthusiastic with them. No lasting damage done though, have it fixed up in no time. Guards!"

The door opened and the two watchmen came in, still holding Uhtred's kit. "Give him back his things." said the captain "And take him to the Tiber Septim hotel, tell the girl he's my guest. What's your name lad?"

"Uhtred."

"Uhtred, ha! A Nord to the core, aren't you? My names Tobias, Tobias Thorn. Get a good nights sleep, get some food in you, and ill see you in the morning."

"Thank you, Mr Thorn."

"Call me Tobias lad, you're not in the watch. Goodnight!"

Uhtred left with the watchmen, who led him through the darkened streets to a very large and tidy hotel. One of them said something to the girl at the counter, then they gave Uhtred his weapon and shield back and left him. He stood, not entirely sure what to do, and the girl came over to him with a large smile on her face.

"Welcome!" she said "That guard told me you're a guest of Mr Thorn, so you can help yourself to anything. Your room is at the top of the stairs, third door on the left. If you want to eat, I can have food brought up to you if you like." Uhtred nodded. "Well then, ill send some up with Ella. Is there anything else you need?"

Uhtred thought for a second. "Do you have any hammers?" he gestured at his shield. The girl shook her head and smiled. "No, sorry. But im sure you can ask Mr Thorn for some tomorrow, he usually breakfasts here."

Uhtred thanked her and made his way upstairs. He had already forgotten where his room was, so he simply tried every door until he found one that was open. Inside the room was a large, soft bed, a wardrobe, a desk and everything he could possibly need, but very little that he could use. So he put his shield on the desk, propped the sword up in the corner, and had just taken his cuirass off when he heard a knock at the door. Opening it, he saw a small and extremely pretty Altmer girl standing with a tray of food and drink, smiling sheepishly at the sight of the half-naked Nord with his long, untidy hair and bruised body. "Ive got your food!" she said brightly, walking in and going to place it on the desk, until she saw the shield there instead. Uhtred quickly moved it, and she put the tray down.

"Is there anything else you need?" she asked, and although Uhtred could think of several things, he didn't think the girl was paid enough for them. So he thanked her and said no. She smiled and said, "Well if you think of anything, just come downstairs. There's a note from Mr Thorn on the tray, do you know him?"

"We just met…"

"Must like you if he's put you here. He's a good man is Mr Thorn, even if he never seems to slow down. Five year's he's been coming here and ive never seen him down. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight…" Uhtred said, slightly stunned by the girl. She seemed like a puppy, all bounce and enthusiasm. Not to mention attractive, oh what he wouldn't do…

After a minutes drooling, Uhtred made his way to the tray and opened the note from 'Mr Thorn', which said that the man would be breakfasting tomorrow at 9am, and would be honoured if Uhtred would join him. So with a good nights sleep in mind, Uhtred ate vigorously, drained the bottle of wine in a few gulps, and collapsed backwards onto the bed, falling asleep before he had even pulled the covers over himself.

He was woken by a knock on his door, and opened his eyes to sunlight streaming through the window and bringing out the full colours of the room. The first thing he was aware of was a dull ache all over, a result no doubt of the knocks and activity of the previous days fight. Letting out an incoherent moan as an indication that the person behind the door should enter, he looked up and found himself looking at Ella, who was looking as though there was nothing she could have wanted more than to fulfil his every whim. She smiled widely and spoke. "Good morning mister! Mr Thorn is downstairs, being very energetic in his requests for your company. Should I tell him you'll be down presently?"

Uhtred nodded in a slightly dazed way and half rolled off the bed, landing with a thud on the wooden floor. Ella rushed over to him and helped him to his feet. "Are you all right?"

Uhtred smiled at her "Yeah, im fine. I think my arm's a bit knackered though."

"yes, from what I gather from Mr Thorns words you were in a fight yesterday. Don't worry though sir, a couple of days relaxing and you'll be as good as new! Ill leave you to get dressed."

Uhtred almost said that she was very welcome to stay, but checked himself at the last second and managed to pass off the opening of his mouth by saying "My names Uhtred, by the way." Ella smiled "Nice to meet you, Uhtred. I'll go and tell Mr Thorn you're on your way."

Cursing himself for making such an idiot of himself, Uhtred clambered into his mail and picked up his sword and shield, slinging them both onto his back and walking hesitantly down the stairs. His arrival in the lobby was greeted by a great roar, and he looked to see Tobias Thorn standing up and walking purposefully towards him.

"Good morning Uhtred, good morning! Did you sleep well? Good! Now, sit ye down, sit ye down. Have some of this venison, the cook here has great talents with red meat. Ella! Where is that girl? Ella, some mead if you would be so kind. I daresay young Uhtred here needs a stiff drink. How are you feeling after yesterdays battle, young man?"

"A little sore." Uhtred admitted. He couldn't help smiling at Tobias' buoyancy, it seemed to infect everybody around him. The girl behind the counter was working at an incredible speed and Ella, who had seemed to be bordering on a burst blood vessel before, now looked as if she was in serious danger of exploding.

"Of course you are lad! You know, we sent men to the field last night to have a look, and it seems to have been a battle to remember, eh?"

"A lost battle." said Uhtred quietly.

"Lost?" Bellowed Tobias, gesturing wildly with an apple. "Lost? On the face of it perhaps, but a victory in the long run! If we can get an alliance with Bruma over this, it's the first step in reuniting Cyrodiil! And all because you survived! Your survival may not go down in the history books but the results of it most certainly will! Eat boy, eat, you look dead on your feet. Now, tell me, how is Ivar?"

So Uhtred described Ivar in as much detail as he could manage, from the relentless insults to the off-handed promotion. He even described the mans attitude towards Thorsson, which made Tobias laugh.

"Ah yes, Ivar always did have a problem with authority. He used to say there were two ways of doing things, his way and the wrong way. I remember after Kvatch, we were watching the hero of Kvatch walk back down the hillside. You know of him? The man who went into oblivion itself, closed the gate, then helped rid the city of the Daedra? Well me and Ivar were watching him walk away and Ivar said to me, he said 'He did well, but he holds his sword like a bottle of wine.' Typical Ivar! He sees a hero and finds a fault. Never content that man, never content! But he always was a good judge of men." here Tobias grinned at Uhtred, who smiled back. He wasn't used to such blatant flattery.

"So lad!" boomed Tobias, draining his goblet "Ive been told to offer you a position in the watch but I advise you to decline, it's a boring life and they'll make you move out of here and into the barracks. What I recommend is that you go to the arena and speak to the blademaster, tell him I sent you for some training. Don't worry, you wont have to fight if you don't want to! Ill walk you there actually, im not on duty for a while yet. Come!"

So Uhtred, his spirits considerably lifted, thanked Ella and followed Tobias out into the grey street. "So who's this blademaster?" asked Uhtred "And what's the arena?" Tobias laughed.

"Never been to the city before then? Pity you had to make your first visit now, it used to be much better. The arena is a… well, its an arena! Gladiators fight for money there, and you wont find a more bloodthirsty bunch in all Tamriel! Good fighters though, Akatosh help anybody who tries to attack the city while they're here. And the blademaster, Oweyn, is the man who trains and manages them, he trained the champion of Cyrodiil once you know!"

All this time Uhtred was led through curved streets and large wooden doors, with Tobias chatting all the way. The man seemed like a genuinely pleasant person, and when they reached the arena, he made it very clear to the blademaster that if there were any complaints from Uhtred, then Oweyn would have him to answer to. He bade Uhtred goodbye and said he would see him tomorrow for breakfast, then left.

Oweyn stepped up to Uhtred and inspected him. "Ok." he said "Well, Mr Thorn might like you, but I don't. To me, you're just another jumped up barbarian who needs to be put into line if you're going to be useful for anything. See that dummy over there?"

"Yes."

"Good, at least you're not blind. I want you to use that sword of yours, if you know which end to hold, to chop the arm off. Go on then."

Oweyn, it transpired, was an excellent trainer. While not as effective at producing anger as Ivar had been, he was capable of forcing Uhtred to do more than he could. Even when Uhtred was tired to the point of collapse, Oweyn would coax another blow out of him. Every day he pushed Uhtred further and further, teaching him not only how to handle the massive claymore but how to use its unwieldy nature to his advantage. As Oweyn repeated, a claymore was not a weapon for neat cuts and controlled stabs, it was a weapon for vicious chops and hacks. Accuracy came second to power, and power came above everything else.

Uhtred was almost able to forget Bruma during those few days. He would rise in the morning to Ella's huge smile, breakfast with the consistently jovial Tobias, and then head to the arena for Oweyn's ministrations. In the evenings he would return to his bed, too exhausted to do anything more than grin weakly to Ella.

More than once he was given the opportunity to fight in the arena against gladiators, but every time he declined. Risking his life for Bruma was fine, but risking his life for money was something completely different. Clearly Oweyn had told Tobias of this because one morning, as they breakfasted, Tobias said to Uhtred; "Uhtred lad, how goes the training?"

"Well, very well. Thanks for sending me along."

"Least I could do boy, least I could do. But I wonder, is it time you bloodied your new sword? After all, a wooden dummy can only teach you so much."

"What do you mean?"

"Well its just a thought, but ive been told that today I have to head down to the waterfront, it seems a group of pirates have landed there and they're playing merry hell with commerce. I was told to take some legionnaires, but I think they deserve a day off. You could come instead, show me why Ivar made you a sergeant."

Uhtred understood the meaning behind these words. He was being given a chance to prove himself, to show Tobias that it wasn't just luck that saw him through the battle. If he declined, he would be letting himself and Ivar down. If Ivar still lived. So he nodded and grinned his acceptance of the challenge.

"Good boy, good boy!" boomed the captain, pushing a bottle of mead towards him "No doubt you'll tear through them like sacking, and ill be able to tell my superiors that their allies in Bruma are every bit as tough as I say they are. Ill also," he lowered his voice for the first time since Uhtred had met him "Be able to tell young Ella that you're every bit as tough as you look."

Uhtred blushed at this, and Tobias laughed before leading him out into the street and down to the waterfront district, where the pirates were clearly identified. There were three of them visible, dressed in rags with long, curved swords at their waists. Uhtred reached back for his sword.

"Not yet lad, not yet" grinned Tobias "wait till we get close, and they see how big you are."

So Uhtred waited, and they walked until they were at the end of the quay. Tobias was of course very conspicuous in his garish armour, and the pirates had turned to look, as if daring the pair to come any closer.

"Well Uhtred, this is your show boy. Ill wait here, if it looks like things are getting tricky for you I'll wander in and help, but somehow I don't think you'll need that. Make me proud lad."

Uhtred pulled his sword from his back and walked slowly towards the trio. His shield was, as usual, slung over his shoulder to protect his back, and his chain mail shone in the morning sun. It was time for the second deadly fight of his life.

He stopped walking a few metres from the pirates and swung his sword as Oweyn had showed him. The blade whirled around and around, singing softly as it cut through the air. The pirates looked wary, it seemed that none of them wanted to be the first to come within the reach of the great sword.

So Uhtred advanced again, still swinging the sword over his head, and the pirates stood their ground, unaware that the claymore was gaining more momentum with each swing. The first hit would be completely and utterly lethal.

And it was, for when one of the trio dared to move forwards, Uhtred chopped downwards at him with enormous force. The man tried to parry with his cutlass, but it was shattered as the claymore swung down, splitting the mans head in two and carrying on downwards until it lay embedded in the mans chest. Uhtred put his foot on the mangled corpse and wrenched the blade free, and the other two pirates charged.

The first lunged at Uhtred's exposed ribs, but he twisted to the side and the pirates blade merely glanced off the chain mail before Uhtred kicked out at his leg, catching the man off balance and sending him to the floor. The second pirate swung for Uhtred's head but had his blow parried, before his belly was opened by a backhanded swing. Without stopping the swing, Uhtred brought the sword around and took both the legs off the first pirate, then stabbed downwards at the mans head. It was then that he heard applause behind him, and turned to see Tobias clapping and whooping joyfully. Uhtred picked up one of the cutlasses, slipped it into his belt, and walked back along the quay to where the captain of the guard stood grinning.

"Well lad, I think that proves your worth. By Akatosh, but you're a savage one! No wonder you survived that battle! There ain't a scratch on you! Come, come, let me lunch you, you must be hungry!"

Uhtred laughed. "Toby, we had breakfast about half an hour ago."

"That long? No wonder im feeling weak! Not as weak as those three though, ha! Come, we'll go to the barracks. Ill introduce you around."

When they got inside the barracks it was surprisingly empty, which seemed not to bother Tobias, who merely headed right for a large room on the upper stories that contained a dining table piled high with food. Sitting at this table were two men who both wearing similar armour to Tobias, and who turned as the pair entered. Tobias saluted one, waved at the other, then hung his crested helmet up on a hook and gestured Uhtred to sit. However, when Uhtred did sit, the man Tobias had saluted stood and looked at him. "Don't you know, boy?" he said in a stern tone "That its customary to salute a superior officer?"

Uhtred, without thinking, replied "you're an officer?" and looked over the mans shoulder to see Tobias coughing violently and the other captain biting his knuckle hard. The officer spoke again.

"Yes boy, im an officer. And I didn't become an officer so some long haired barbarian could give me cheek!"

Uhtred decided that at this point, it would be preferable to stand his ground. For one thing he always enjoyed annoying people, and for another this man looked like he needed taking down a peg or two. So Uhtred decided to be more cheeky.

"Why did you become an officer then?" he asked innocently. In the background he could see Tobias grinning widely, and the other captain tremble-jawed with determination to keep a straight face. "Because!" shouted the officer, "Somebody needs to keep things like you in line!"

"I know that." said Uhtred "But why did they pick you?"

Tobias could be seen shaking with suppressed mirth, leaning on the other captain for support. For his part, the other captain was covering his mouth, his eyes clenched tight shut. As the pair got more and more amused, the officer got more and more angry, even though he couldn't yet see how much his men were laughing behind his back.

"They picked me!" he said, glaring at Uhtred with undisguised anger "because I know how to deal with people like you, who's your commander?"

"Who? Oh, my commander! Ivar. From Bruma."

"From WHERE?"

"Bruma. Big town up north. Take a right at the end of the bridge…"

Tobias suddenly excused himself, and the remaining captain was holding his ribs and biting his lip. The officer gave Uhtred one last look of pure malice, then turned and left the room without another word. There was silence for a few seconds, then Tobias was heard howling with laughter outside the door. This set the other captain off and soon Uhtred was laughing too as Tobias staggered back into the room, his face a deep scarlet. The three gradually calmed down until Tobias was able to introduce the two.

"Uhtred, this is captain Brice. Mr Brice, this is Uhtred." The pair shook hands and Brice grinned. "Nice to meet you, Uhtred. I wish I could stay longer, but I need to go and do the rounds. Every criminal in the city seems to be having a go nowadays, I had to lock three up yesterday for trying to rob the feed bag, of all places. Thank you for the entertainment, Uhtred, ive been waiting for somebody to annoy him like that for quite a while."

So saying, he left, and Tobias began to speak. "Ah, a good man if ever there was one. He wasn't at Kvatch, mind, but then again not many were. That's something you'll find out about Kvatch veterans, there aren't many of us but we ain't half proud!"

"How many are there?"

"Well, when Ivar and me left the place there were two of the Kvatch guards, the champion of Cyrodiil of course, and another legionnaire. So, about seven."

"And how many are left?"

"Ooh, well there's me and Ivar, obviously. The other legionnaire with us got an arrow through his neck when the Daedra attacked the city, unfortunately. Quite a shock, that. The champion, nobody knows what happened to him but its reckoned he's dead. One of the Kvatch guards died in the battle of Bruma, and another was killed by a minotaur on the roads, which is damn bad luck. Great galloping goblins! That means me and Ivar are the only ones left! Fancy that…"

Uhtred wasn't quite sure what to say. Part of him wanted to know more about the battle, but he thought it might be rude to ask. So he occupied himself with a bottle of mead, and Tobias spoke again.

"What a day, Uhtred, what a day! Ive never seen the like since… a whole city in flames, guards fighting like daemons against the Daedra, the champion of Cyrodiil cutting down the enemy like a farmer cutting wheat… what a day." He stayed silent for the first time since Uhtred had met him, then looked over at his chest.

"I wonder, Uhtred… yes, perhaps… you see, I think Ivar had more than one reason for giving you that shield. it's a good shield, yes, but see… I was there when he picked it up, and it came from the body of a guard, a man who had died fighting no less than a dozen Daedra. Ivar said then that there lay a man who knew when to stop, but knew his duty to his comrades better. Perhaps Ivar thought that, by rescuing your friend Egbert, you had showed the same kind of attitude."

Now Uhtred was completely lost for words, and merely nodded.