Bennirus loosened the grate at the end of the tunnel and covered his eyes. The sunlight that he had missed so dearly was blinding, and certainly not what he was used to. A ray or two of light each day would be afforded to him in the cell if he were lucky, but now he would finally be able to soak up as much sunlight as he wanted. He was a free man. Yet he felt trapped. Burdened. Lost.

Why in all of the divines' names had the Emperor entrusted him with such a drastic and important task? What had he done to deserve such an honor? He had heard stories of Uriel's visions - strange dreams that, if the stories were to be believed, gave him images of past, present and future. If he had seen Bennirus in his dreams as he claimed, Bennirus could only imagine what might lay in store for him. After all, the Nerevarine was supposedly crafted in a similar fashion - a prisoner plucked up from the Imperial Dungeons only to find himself wrapped up in a prophecy that ended with him killing the false god Dagoth Ur only six years ago. Bennirus' heart dropped at the thought that he might end up becoming a prophetic hero as well.

He was no hero. His time in the dungeons had taught him that much. Whatever legacy he might have built died the day he was slapped in irons. Bennirus tried not to think about it, but with little else to do in the prison it was hard not to. Was this perhaps the gods way of giving him a second chance? Was there perhaps some kind of mistake, or was it simply a cruel joke?

It did no matter. Bennirus wasn't particularly fond of dreams, visions or gods anyhow. He was certain there would be a perfectly logical explanation for it all. Most likely the Emperor was a madman who relied too much on his subconsciousness. Emperors had gone made before, after all. He wasn't sure if he liked that explanation any better. Either the gods or a raving lunatic had chosen him for a task that would determine the fate of millions of lives. Either way, the thought made him fell ill.

As far as he was concerned, he would simply head straight to Chorrol, drop the amulet off with Jauffre and be on his merry way. He did not see himself having any larger role in whatever prophecy might be at work here. If that were the case, perhaps he might even be rewarded. The thought of a sack of gold made him slightly more motivated to carry out the task, and thus he set out on his way.

After his eyes finally adjusted to the blinding sunlight, Bennirus lowered his arm and looked around. He was from what he could guess at the edge of the Imperial Isle. Behind him he could see the great silver walls of the Imperial City, the proud capital of the Septim Empire. It was utterly massive, especially with its centerpiece: the White-Gold Tower. It was almost as tall as the clouds, rising up through the sky like a long, thin blade. Bennirus always wondered just how much one could see from the top, though he wasn't sure he ever wanted to find out.

He made his way up the slope to the city walls, struggling to cope with the steepness of the hill. After a few minutes of climbing, he found himself on one of the bridges that led to the prison or the market, depending on which way he went. Seeing that he had no intentions of stepping foot in the prison district again, he went the other way.

A pair of Imperial guards stood tall in their plated steel armor before the gate to the market. Bennirus gave them an anxious nod only to be ignored, and, satisfied that he would not be stopped and searched, headed on inside to the market. It was as busy as he had every seen it, with hundreds (if not thousands) of shoppers, merchants, thieves and beggars lining the streets in hopes of making a profit or getting a good deal. The streets were covered up in stalls of those too poor to own a store and the areas around the streets were stores of those too wealthy to justify owning a stall. He read the signs as he navigated his way through the sea of people. Everything a man could ever hope to buy could likely be bought here in the market, legally or otherwise.

Bennirus held on tightly to the amulet in his pocket as he walked through the crowd, fearful that he might drop it or, even worse, a thief might take off with it. He had one place in mind: Luther Broad's Boarding House, a tavern on the south side of the markets. Luther had been an old friend and contact before his imprisonment, and he had hoped to catch up with the old man. Moreover, he could hopefully find word of a caravan or convoy heading out of the city that might get him to Chorrol in one piece.

Bennirus shuffled through the crowd, pushing and shoving when necessary. He nearly tripped over a small boy in rags - presumably a pickpocket of some description - but regained his balance and checked to see if the amulet was still there. It was, much to his relief, but the scare only made him hold onto it tighter. Finally he found himself in front of the boarding house sign and breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped inside.

The bar was mercifully less crowded, though it was not lacking in patrons. Two dozen or so people of all races, sizes and descriptions crowded the bar, many of them drinking merrily and lifting their tankards into the air. Bennirus looked around for Luther and found the old Imperial in the back, pouring ale for a Khajiit with gray and white fur. He passed through a pair of drunken Nords and took a seat at the bar, pulling up a tall brown stool to sit on.

"Well I'll be! Bennirus Talanian!" said Luther, turning his attention immediately to Bennirus. Luther clapped his hands and grinned from ear to ear, visibly happy to see an old friend. Bennirus shook Luther's hand tightly and grinned back.

"When did you get out?" Luther asked, grabbing mindlessly for a bottle of liquor.

"Not two hours ago."

"Damn. They told me you were in for life! How'd you get out so fast?"

"It's… well, it's complicated Luther. I'd rather not talk about it," Bennirus said nervously, glancing back down at his pocket. "I'd order an ale, but I'm afraid I don't have a Septim to my name right now."

"Nonsense! Friends don't pay at Luther's. Have a drink." Luther finally grabbed onto the bottle of ale and opened the cork for Bennirus. Bennirus nodded in thanks and took a long swallow of the ale, savoring every drop of the glorious liquid. He hadn't tasted something so good in years, which wasn't saying much since the best he got in the dungeons was sewer water.

Luther motioned for Bennirus to follow him. The pair went towards the back of the bar to a dimly lit table for two. Each took a chair, with Luther leaning in eagerly to hear what his friend had to say. Bennirus hesitated for a moment, and finally worked up the courage to speak.

"Look, I can't say much. I'm working on a…" he thought about what to say next, choosing his words carefully. He was unsure if he could trust anyone, even a close friend. "I need to get to Chorrol. Today. Sooner rather than later. You know anybody that's heading that way?"

"So soon? I had hoped you might room here for a few days. I have some work for you too."

"I can't. Gods, I can't." Bennirus sighed. He took another long swig of his ale.

"Yeah, I can get you there. Not sure why you just don't walk but your business is your own," said Luther. "Some friends of mine are heading to Hammerfell later today. Khajiit caravan, you know the sort. They're passing through Chorrol I believe. They've got some tough customers, so if you need added protection I doubt you'd have much to worry about. I'll pay for your passage, as a friend. And as a friend, I'd ask for you to at least give me some indication of what's going on," Luther concluded, eying him curiously.

Bennirus considered the comment for a few moments. "Thanks, old friend," was all he could say. He tapped the wooden table with his middle finger twice and took another drink of ale.

"Alright, alright. I'll get it arranged." Luther stood and walked off, clearly dissatisfied with what little information Bennirus had given him. Bennirus chuckled quietly to himself and finished off his ale.

==/==

Bennirus waited anxiously for the Khajiit to arrive, compulsively checking his pocket every few minutes to ensure the amulet was still there. He had plenty of time to reflect on the matter at hand and still didn't like it any better. He had half a mind to dump the amulet in one of the city's waterways and be done with it, but if it were half as important as Baurus claimed he might live to regret that decision very quickly.

Bennirus never did like getting orders. But this order came from the highest authority in the land, and he wasn't sure he could just turn it down (not that Uriel would ever know, given his current state). Lost in thought, Bennirus contemplated the situation more before he saw a pair of snapping fingers appear in front of his face. He came back to reality and noticed that Luther was there along with a heavily armed Khajiit mercenary.

"This is Bennirus Talanian. He'll be tagging along with you for a while, 'least till you get to Chorrol."

"This one is Ra'viir. It is a pleasure to meet you," said the Khajiit, a bulky brute of a cat with thick brown and black fur. "I'm in charge of this caravan. We'll get you to Chorrol in one piece, for a fee that your friend has paid in full."

Bennirus extended a hand and felt the furry embrace of Ra'viir. Ra'viir's grasp nearly pulled Bennirus out of his chair, which made Luther laugh.

"You'll be fast friends, I reckon," said Luther, patting Bennirus on the back. "You heading out now?"

"We had planned on it, yes," replied Ra'viir.

"Alright. Well old friend," Luther said, turning his attention to Bennirus, "it's been nice seeing you again. Good luck with whatever devilry you've got going on in Chorrol. I've got an ale with your name on it whenever you find yourself back in the city."

"Pleasure's all mine," said Bennirus, grinning. "I'll be back before you know it."

Bennirus and Ra'viir left the bar and shuffled their way through the streets. Ra'viir was very talkative, telling tales of lands far beyond Cyrodiil: the deserts of Elsweyr, where he called home, the cold reaches of Skyrim and the jungles of Black Marsh. He claimed to have seen every province in Tamriel save the Summerset Isle. Bennirus smiled and nodded when appropriate, though his mind still raced at the thought of his quest.

It wasn't far to the Talos Plaza district where they could exit the city through the other gate, but it felt as though it took ages to shift through the endless waves of market-goers. He saw shoppers of all descriptions and races. The Imperial City was a melting-pot, though the pot smelled and rang with noise. Bennirus never was keen on overcrowded areas. He preferred solitude and silence, of which this was the opposite. He looked forward to getting to the stables and taking a nice long breath of fresh air.

As Ra'viir rambled mindlessly about boastful adventures, Bennirus couldn't help but shake off the feeling that he was being watched. It was likely that in the crowd of a thousand onlookers that someone had to be giving him a passing glance, but the feeling he had made him incredibly anxious and afraid. He thought back to the scene earlier with the summoners, their faces a black void of shadow and nothingness. He had felt the same then, though he wondered just how they could see anything without eyes.

He glanced around nervously, looking for anything out of the ordinary until his fears came to life. At the other end of the district stood three tall robed mages not unlike the shadow legionnaires that he tangled with earlier. They lingered on a platform, clearly looking for Bennirus, causing him to recoil and lower his face as he looked desperately for Ra'viir who had kept going ahead of him. Bennirus finally caught up with the furry mercenary and grabbed him, which apparently Ra'viir barely felt. The Khajiit turned, his eyes tinged with mild concern.

"We need to move! Now!" Bennirus shouted as loudly he could muster. His warning caught the eyes of more than a few onlookers, though most of them paid him no mind. Ra'viir, obviously confused, nodded softly and quickened his pace. Bennirus followed closely behind.

Bennirus, still running, glanced backwards to see more of the robed summoners. One of them seemed to look straight at him, causing the summoner to conjure a bound weapon like the ones in the escape tunnel did. It shone and flickered bright blue and white in the air, a fiery and deadly conjuration of pure energy. Two others joined up behind it and mimicked it, drawing blades of their own. The nearby crowd began to panic, screaming and shouting in fear as the otherwordly beings advanced towards Bennirus. Ra'viir turned too and seemed to catch a glance of the summoners, for he drew a thick steel greatsword from the sheath on his back.

"Follow Khajiit closely!" said Ra'viir in a booming battlefield voice. Bennirus nodded and ran with him, the two making their way through a crowd of fleeing shoppers. A number of Imperial guards had gathered to repel the summoners. The guards looked capable enough in their plate mail, though the summoners had little difficulty in dispatching them. One guardsmen drew an arrow and fired straight at one of the robed figures before the latter seemed to take control of the bolt mid-flight. The arrow stopped abruptly and shattered into two pieces before falling flat onto the ground. Another summoner conjured a ball of fire and sent it flying into the crowd, causing dozens of unlucky citizens to scream in agony as their flesh caught fire. Bennirus ran as fast he could, this time overtaking Ra'viir. He found another gate leading to the adjacent district before he was stopped cold in his tracks.

In front of him, the gate swung open. On the other side was a single summoner, this one wearing red robes instead of black. It did not have any discernible face; the hood cast a great shadow on it like all of the others. The figure reached out slowly towards Bennirus, still frozen in fear, and whispered coldly to him. In spite of the chaos behind him, Bennirus heard the word as clearly as if his surroundings were silent.

"Septim…" it said, its hand still stretched out palm up.

Bennirus knew what it wanted: the Amulet of Kings. He backed up slowly, unsure of what to do. When he took his first step, the red-robed figure screeched. The sound was blood-curdling and unlike anything Bennirus had ever heard before. He winced in pain and covered his ears to no avail; it was just as loud then as it was before. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, the sound came to a halt. He looked up to find Ra'viir swinging his claymore at the monster. It had little time to react and was cut down by the Khajiit, though strangely it spilled no blood. Bennirus had no time to inspect the figure before Ra'viir grabbed him and sent him through the gate.

The Khajiit slamed the gate shut. Bennirus could hear the carnage continue behind him: fireballs slinging, swords clashing and people dying by the dozens. They would follow him and he would be next if they didn't get out of the city soon. Ra'viir rushed quickly through the streets - now significantly less crowded - and Bennirus followed as closely as he could. The Khajiit was remarkably quick in spite of being burdened by heavy plate armor.

The rest of the trip was far less eventful. After dodging and ducking through back alleys from their pursuers, the pair seemed to have evaded death at the hands of the robed men. By the time they reached the Talos Plaza, Bennirus needed a breather. He tried, but Ra'viir would not allow it.

"We must go! Khajiit does not wish to die an early death so you can stop to breathe!"

Bennirus couldn't argue with the logic and pushed himself further, wheezing wildly as he struggled to catch his breath. The world was spinning around him and he wanted to drop to the floor and collapse, if only for a few minutes. Doing so would most certainly mean his death, however, and he knew he had to keep going. Ra'viir passed through streets and alleys as if he knew every path, causing Bennirus to lose track of him more than once. By the time they reached the end of their escape, Bennirus was desperate for a breather. He hadn't gotten much exercise in the dungeon, and this was proving to be more than he could handle. However, Ra'viir mercifully slowed down after being satisfied that they were no longer the prey in a deadly hunt. He pushed the massive wooden gate open and found the Imperial Isle awaiting them both outside, a beautiful emerald hill with the city topping the lands below. Not far from the Talos Plaza gate was the stables, a small but crowded pen of horses and riders.

"The Chestnut Handy Stables," Ra'viir said, with no noticeable signs of fatigue. "The other Khajiit await you here." Ra'viir stepped forward slowly to lead the way, his greatsword slung across his back without a drop of blood on it in spite of the summoner he had slain. Bennirus played the scene in his head over and over, as the beast screamed that piercing howl of agony that ripped through his ears like a dagger. It said 'Septim,' he was certain of it, and he knew its outstretched hand was reaching for the Amulet of Kings. And yet when Ra'viir cut it in two, the partitioned corpse simply flopped lifelessly onto the cold stone pavement. It was as if it had nothing under the robes beyond shadow. Bennirus shuddered to think about the implications of the chaos he had witnessed.

Ra'viir led Bennirus towards a small camp with fur and leather tents surrounded by horses, baggage and carts. A dozen or so Khajiit traders and mercenaries were packing up the campsite quickly, and their pace quickened even further when they saw Bennirus and Ra'viir.

"Faster, faster!" Ra'viir snapped. "We have a schedule to keep."

One of the other Khajiit, a scrawny female, moved her attention to him. "What is wrong with you Ra'viir? I've never seen you look so concerned before," she said.

"It's nothing. Just an… incident in the markets. This one is Bennirus Talanian. He'll be tagging along."

"For a hefty fee, I suppose?" said the female Khajiit, her arms crossed.

"It's been taken care of." Ra'viir tossed her a bag of gold that he had attached to his belt. She felt it for a few moments before grinning and nodding in approval.

"This will do. Come, master Talanian. We must go soon." Bennirus followed closely, still bewildered and paralyzed by the scene in the markets moments before.

For the next few minutes, the Khajiit rapidly packed up their camp and gathered their cargo. Bennirus was impressed with how quickly they worked, loading the horses and carts faster than he could keep up with. Tents became undone and carts became loaded in a matter of minutes, and by the time a quarter of an hour had passed the troop of Khajiit were ready to travel.

Ra'viir came to him one final time before leaving. The mercenary grabbed Bennirus by the shoulder and gave him a serious look. "This one is concerned about the packs you carry. Our cargo draws bandits and thugs, but yours… well, it seems to attract more deadly attention." Bennirus unconsciously and slowly moved his hand towards his pocket, as if Ra'viir were about to try and take it. It wouldn't have mattered if he did want the amulet; Ra'viir could cut Bennirus in two faster than he could say 'Septim.' Ra'viir glanced down at Bennirus' pocket but said nothing of it. "We will get you to Chorrol. Beyond there, this one wishes to be free of whatever burden you bring with you."

Bennirus nodded in understanding, one hand still toying with the amulet. He couldn't see it, but he felt the sharpness of the ruby, its red glow undoubtedly shining bright in his pocket. It seemed to react to his touch for whatever reason.

The sun began to set and the twin moons of Nirn slowly made themselves visible. By the time the sun passed the horizon to the west, the party set out to Chorrol under the cover of night. Bennirus hoped it would be enough to hide him from any more of the summoners, though he suspected the shadows would not be enough to shield him from whatever great terrors awaited him later down the road.