Eternal Blood: The Band of Heroes
Prologue
Tamriel: a place of both order and chaos, an empire ruled by the Septim family, a nation of many countries. It is mystical, enchanting, and overall dangerous. The mysteries of nature and magic lie in every corner of the mostly-rural empire. Discoveries are made, gods are worshipped, good battles evil, and nothing is what it seems.
Now focuses a certain place in the heart of the bewildering world. It is many of nature's colors, with snowy mountains to the north, gold plains to the west, green swamps to the south, and green forest to the east. However, in its center is the most eye-catching spectacle, an island in the center of a round lake that branches off into rivers. On this island is a huge, glistening white city, shrouded in the darkness of the night, and soon rained upon from the heavens. It's an architectural dream of perfect circles and columns that have been standing for centuries and yet look brand new. In its center is a large tower, perhaps more than sixty stories high, the Imperial Palace itself, where the emperor waits out the last of his days.
In the very front of the city, to the west, near the stables, a cloaked figure runs through the rain, its black robe getting drenched with the raindrops from the lightning above. It carries a bundle of what looks to be a bunch of blankets, its hands careful not to get it wet or drop it, and it approaches the gigantic wooden gates that lead inside the city, thrice as tall as it.
It knocks loudly, and if it weren't raining and thundering, everyone in the Talos Plaza District on the other side would've heard it. However, a guard asleep on top of the gates didn't even hear it, or hear them open to reveal a woman, perhaps in her forties, take the bundle away from the figure and mumble, "She'll be safe here."
An empire of mysteries, of prophecies, of fates intertwined, where nothing is as it seems. Welcome to the world of Tamriel.
Chapter 1: A Life Less Ordinary
"Get up you worthless bag of bones!"
Nightshade opened her red eyes and rubbed them. She groaned a little and looked into the face of her aggressor. It belonged to the Redguard Owyn, who was bending over her and snarling into her face. "If you don't get up, no dinner for you!"
She frowned. Dinner was hardly dinner anyway.
"Hurry up and get going, you lazy slag!"
Nightshade rose to her feet, rising out of the bedroll made for her. She yawned, stretched, and headed for the small, squishy latrine just to the left of the entrance "hall", if one could call it that.
She looked at her fourteen-year-old self in the dirty mirror, grimy with mold and dust, much like herself. Her rags needed cleaning and her bright red hair needed washing. Around her neck was a silver amulet with a black stone embedded in it, dulled by dust and tarnish. She looked odd, even for a dark elf. Most had grayish-blue skin, but hers was jet-black, and most had dark hair, while hers was a vibrant red. Her eyes were even darker than others. Perhaps that's why she was here: in the Bloodworks of the Imperial City arena, in the small province of Cyrodill, in the big empire of Tamriel.
Nightshade briskly combed her hair back and tied it with a small, old ribbon that was thin and purple. Perhaps she'd visit the showers today after getting the chores done. She then snorted in disgust. The chores were never done here. If Owyn couldn't find something for her to do, the old hag Ysabel Andronicus would. So she grabbed a bucket by the door with a rag and some water and headed back into the Bloodworks for the first chore of the day: scrubbing the floor.
She started at exactly six a.m. and ended three hours later, for it was hard to clean and make the place intimidating at the same time. Nightshade thought there was no point, but there was nothing she could do about it.
At nine, she polished and sharpened the swords and axes used by the arena combatants; none of them had an owner for more than a week. The ones used by the champions were not left on the stands and were always with them. It was less work anyway, so no complaints from her.
At twelve noon, she walked out of the Bloodworks and into the busy Imperial City to run errands, and that's when Nightshade's boring life changed.
Nightshade walked through the gate leading into the Market Place, a list of things to buy in her hands. She mentally said them in her head—oranges, apples, ham, venison, watermelon, and one slab of boar meat, which Owyn liked to stash for himself on Fredas. The gold jingled in her worn pocket, which was more than enough for the food. Every time there was extra cash, she would save it in a barrel near the arena entrance. She had enough to treat herself to something today, where she could hide it there.
Walking down the street sometimes slightly unnerved her. She didn't mind being alone, but she could feel people staring at her. She walked off the sidewalk and into the street where there were less people. Then—"Oomph!"
Someone smaller had collided with her, his head hitting her in the chin. She fell backward, and at first she thought her coins had fallen out of her pocket. "Hey!" she snapped at the boy, perhaps younger than her, but he wasn't paying attention. He was looking behind him, then at the ground, where the bag he was carrying had opened and let out a bunch of coins on the street, plus jewels and jewelry.
"What's your problem?!" Nightshade tried to get his attention, very annoyed. "What—" She stopped because the boy was picking everything up and putting them back in the bag. "Hello? Do you know you just smashed into me?!"
The gate slammed behind her and there were heavy footsteps. The boy, obviously flustered, forced the bag into her hands and ran down an alley. Confused, she watched him go, and then—
"Caught you red handed!"
One word went through Nightshade's mind—fuck.
She sat in her small cell, waiting for the hours to pass. No matter how many times she tried to tell the guards, "I swear a boy gave them to me!" they wouldn't believe her. They threatened to hang her if she didn't confess, and she wasn't going to. How could have there been no witnesses? If she wasn't hanged, Owyn would kill her, and she'd rather be hanged than have her blood all over the Bloodworks.
"You're going to die in here, young dunmer." Gods, how many times did he have to say that? The male dark elf from the cell across from her, apparently named Valen Dreth, had been ranting at her ever since the guards closed the prison door. She had retorted he would too, but he didn't listen. He was a common nutcase.
The cell was claustrophobic and damp. Roots and mold covered the gray stones. The table was small and the stool broken. But Nightshade didn't care. She was used to this. Heck, as long as she wasn't in the Bloodworks, she was happy.
Suddenly, the door to the prison opened, and a female's voice was heard. "…we have to get you to safety." The group came into view. Three wore similar armor. Two were Redguards and one was the female Breton. But it was the man behind them that fascinated Nightshade the most.
He was old, with dark gray hair and a wrinkled, yet understanding, face. His robes were of purple and red velvet, with a speckled fur collar and a large, diamond-shaped red stone. She had never seen him before, and yet she felt like she knew him, perhaps in a dream.
The Breton opened her cell door, to her surprise. She scowled at her. "What's this prisoner doing here? This cell was supposed to be off limits."
"An unusual mix-up at the guard, Captain, I'm sure," the younger of the two Redguards said, and then turned to face Nightshade. The Breton made a noise at the back of her throat.
"Fine, we don't have much time. Stand back, prisoner, we won't hesitate to kill you."
Nightshade stepped back under the small window and next to the broken stool. The Breton, presumably Captain, pushed in one of the stones. Nightshade was in shock. She could've been out of there in seconds, for the bedroll that had been there sunk into the ground as the wall shifted downward, revealing a long hallway into what looked to be a dungeon.
"You…" She jumped at the soft voice of the old man. "I've seen you, in my dreams. Then the stars are right, and today is the day."
"Sorry?" Nightshade was confused again. "What day? Who are you?"
"I'm the emperor Uriel Septim VII. Why you are here is not important. The gods were right." He turned into the tunnel after the Captain, a distant look of sadness in his eyes. The older Redguard sneered at her. "You're free to come."
She watched them disappear, and then followed down the dark passageway, unaware of what was to happen next.