A/N: Here we are, with another chapter. Sorry, once again, that this came out a little later than I would have hoped. A mixture of tiredness, schooling and generally a bit of writer's block is to blame for it, really. I'd just like to say a huge thank you to everyone that has liked, favourited and reviewed for this story, as well as the 77 visitors that have taken a look at this tale. It really helps me and I hope you'll all continue to support me and this story!
Thank you to Deplaisance de la Nuit for the follow on this story, it's really appreciated.
Rebel-Renegade-Fett (chapter 4 review): Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. Feel free to leave a review on those other chapters! I'd love to hear your opinions on what is happening in the story so far.
Deplaisance de la Nuit (chapter 2 review): I wanted to make the prison a lot more gritty. He was seen to be a traitor by the Empire and I wanted to portray the ideas that they don't treat traitors very well. I hope I got that across well enough!
Deplaisance de la Nuit (chapter 5 review): I never understood the forts, myself. They always seemed like they were just dropped in there to be random dungeons, but like you said, I guess they were needed. The highwayman needed to be there, because I feel he demonstrated the idea that yes, without the Emperor and true order there will be people looking to take advantage and make quick coin through illegal methods.
"Thank you to everyone that reviewed, I was so happy to read them and take in your thoughts and feelings. Please, don't be afraid to leave a review in future. It only takes a few minutes and really helps me to figure out what the general mood is on the story.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Red Gate Opens
'Find him...and close shut the jaws of Oblivion.'
- Emperor Uriel Septim VII
Staring up at the stained-glass window above him, Brother Martin felt pride at what he saw within the shapes on either side of the painted glass. The sunlight beamed through it and washed his surroundings with beautiful arrays of light, beams of different and vibrant colours being sent all around the chapel. It filled him with pride and hope, as it did with so many others of the town of which he lived. The mighty corporeal form of the great Divine Akatosh made real within the weavings of colour and glass, his blazing yellow glory burning through from the still life into the reality. He had never seen anything quite like it, how something could look so beautiful and inspiring. The way that the colours swirled around, depicting historical events that he had been told back when he was a child. Stories that had now been made eternal for all to see, passed down from generation to generation.
Rising onto his two feet, Martin sighed as he looked down at the dust that speckled the bottom hem of his grey robe. Shaking his head, he walked towards one of the nearby wooden pews that dotted the centre of the chapel and took a seat. He was sure that he had told the other priests to make sure the floor was clean, even after he had swept it himself. Leaning over, he dusted the dirt and grime on the bottom of the robe off the best he could and dusted his hands off by quickly dashing them together in the air. He wanted the place to look as clean as possible, spick-and-span so that people didn't have to endure getting their clothes dirty when they wanted to pray. He didn't know how the floor got so dirty in the first place but chalked it down to the excess dirt from people's shoes being walked all over the floors from when the first entered the chapel. It was one of the most active places in the city, so it made sense that the numerous people coming in and out would less a lot of dirt.
Rising his head from where he last had it, Martin moved the fringe of his hair from covering his eyes and looked all around the chapel he found himself in. He knew that his hair had become messy and quite tangled as of late, with him having to move it to see more often than not. Seeing no other choice, Martin made a quick mental note in his head to see the local barber in Kvatch and get his hair trimmed at the very least. He was a priest, he had to keep up appearances. More than that, he was a very public and active figure in the community, the figurehead of what religion was within the city walls and had to make sure that he kept looking somewhat respectable to those who looked up to him.
Looking around the chapel, Martin's eyes were once again drawn to the stained-glass windows that dotted the upper walls of the chapel's inner walls. Nine glass portraits, constructed of the best coloured glass that the county could get their hands on, each for one of the Nine Divines that the townspeople worshipped so dearly. From Stendarr to Julianos, they dotted the walls with each having a prayer bowl beneath them, with mighty Akatosh holding the centre wall in all his glory. The chapel was dedicated to him, he deserved to be the main attraction as the head Divine and creator of all. Martin himself had chosen mighty Akatosh as his chosen divine, although he never knew why. Perhaps there was just something within his beliefs that corresponded to what Akatosh stood for within the Nine, or perhaps there was some deeper meaning that he didn't know. He just thought it felt right for him to become a priest of Akatosh, to teach others the ways of the Great Dragon and bestow his blessings upon those who needed them the most.
Once again standing, Martin decided that his job for the afternoon was done. The floors had been swept within the chapel, the alters had been cleaned and the pews had been straightened and organized. Everything was as it should be. Martin did not want anyone, nobody at all, to come into the chapel where he was the priest and think that he was at any point running a shamble of a job. He was a priest of Akatosh, he had to make sure that the worship place of his chosen god was clean and tidy for people to feel welcomed and comfortable so that they can pray and relax in an organized and safe place. If not all of that had been accomplished, then he felt as though he had failed in his duty.
Seeing nothing else for himself to do, Martin relented and made his way up the small double-step towards the chapel's entrance. Most of the priests were either having a day to themselves among the townsfolk or were simply in the living quarters hanging around. Martin was the only priest that was on duty at the current time and would be replaced in a couple of hours, but he was willing to wait it out. He didn't have anything to do other than what he was doing now, no hobbies or other agendas. Using his arms, Martin pushed through the large wooden doors that stood before him with firm hands; their welcoming sight providing safety and solace for pilgrims and travellers who needed the help of the Gods, which Martin was always happy to hand out with kindness and generosity and without any thanks or want of gratitude. He smiled as the autumn breeze flowed against his face, standing on the large white stone steps that led down towards the stone ground below.
The summer months were coming to an end and that was visible around Kvatch. The market traders were out in force, selling their wares just outside the great, ornate steel doors that welcomed travellers and adventurers into the city. Martin could smell their produce as it carried on the wind, watching with folded arms as the citizens of the town went by on their day-to-day business without any cares in the world. Everybody who lived in the city knew who he was, and he knew them. The community was deeply religious and relied on the chapel and its teachings to provide peace and solace to them whenever they needed it. Martin was happy to give it. He was Kvatch-born, having lived in the city for as long as he could remember with his parents. Sure, he had made the occasional long-distance trip in his youth where he would have been gone for many a month, but he had always returned. Now he felt pride in having settled down to become the priest that the town needed him to be, giving up the adventurous lifestyle that his late parents had disliked so very much.
They were farmers, nothing more, nothing less. Many of them were old and had come to retire in the city in peace, while others had lived in the city all of their lives or come to settle down in a place which they believed that they could call home. Nobody in the city had ever done much of note, other than the secluded Dunmer that lived on the far edge of the main plaza. Martin had spoken to him a few times, back when he had first introduced himself to his neighbours. His name was Jiub, but that's all Martin had been able to get from him. He also vaguely recalled that there had been a man named Jiub in Morrowind, whom had been sainted for driving the cliff racers out. Whether it was the same person, he couldn't tell. Nevertheless, he had given off the impression that he never wanted to be disturbed unless it was incredibly urgent for him to be. Martin could respect that. Not everybody wanted to be the pillar of the community, to be active in all goings-on and make sure everyone knew them. If Jiub wanted to spend his days alone doing whatever he felt comfortable to do, then that was his prerogative and Martin would make sure the townsfolk respected it.
Scouting around the nearby area, Martin sighed. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to him, unlike previous nights. Maybe it had been his imagination, maybe something truly was weird about the town, but Martin knew he had been seeing something. In the shadows, he had seen men. Robed men, dressed in crimson red. They had never approached the chapel, but Martin had seen them watching from time to time, like they were looking for something, or someone in particular. He had tried to approach them, but the men had slunk off into the shadows before he had even had time to open his mouth.
Shrugging it off as his imagination playing tricks on him, Martin did his best to ignore it. He knew that he could inform the guards of what was going on, but he was afraid that they would not take him seriously. Even as the esteemed member of the community that he was, he was sure that many of the guardsmen would not take his claims to heart and would see it as the paranoid rantings of the local priest. This burden was his to bear, no one else's. If there was a mystery, then Martin knew he would figure it out in the end.
Sitting down on the step-in front of him, the young priest clasped his hands together and continue to look around. His vision was immediately drawn to a younger man standing at the edge of the town, a whole bunch of papers held loosely in his hand. He had been wandering around the entrance to the city, near the large iron gates that welcomed all who would come through them, doing his best to hand out the papers to all who walked past him. It took Martin a few seconds before he realized that it was the local courier for the Black Horse Courier newsletters, the official source of news for the Imperial Empire. They had been the province's only newspaper for as long as Martin could remember, having driven away all the competition long ago. The newspaper was always free to take and read, for everyone knew that the Elder Council had begun to finance the production of the papers per an official decree on the matter. It was a good idea to have an official newspaper that would deliver the news to the people in a timely fashion, for it made sure that many people were not left out of the loop when it came to shocking world events.
Martin's head then soon lowered, his chin touching his chest, as he remembered a few days past; back when the Emperor's death had been announced worldwide for those to hear it. He felt it in his heart, the pain and grief of what had happened to them, but he didn't know why. He was never the biggest fan of the monarchy, of the ruling classes that had always existed and ruled over him since the day he had been born into the world. He always remembered that his parents were staunch monarchists but seemed to not talk about the subject when he was around. Perhaps it was just an opinion they had that they didn't wish to influence upon him, Martin would never know the proper answer. Whilst he had never had anything to do with them, but the news still seemed to hit him like a firm, closed fist to the gut. Perhaps it was the shock of it all, to hear that not only the Emperor but his three sons had been murdered within days of one another and left the Empire in absolute chaos. The couriers had been on overdrive that day, rushing around door to door to hand out the free newsletter that detailed the assassination news, albeit in scarce detail due to nobody exactly knowing what had happened within the depths of the Imperial prison.
The mere thought of it all soured Martin's mouth. He had not always believed in the Divines. Back when he was a teenager, young and reckless, he had worshipped another god. A different god. This one had allowed him to do the things that he wanted to do, to drink wine until he passed out, to eat until he vomited and continue once more. They revelled in debauchery and perfect sin for many months under his gaze, under the watchful eye and pride of this god, who would join in when he wished to and sit aside and simply watch and laugh in others. But even those times had gone down a dark path, one that Martin had locked far away. He was now a priest of Akatosh, he had devoted his life to helping those who needed help where there normally would be none. He was a humble man, a kind man, not one of sin. He had left all of that behind him.
"Afternoon, Martin." A voice spoke softly, followed by footsteps on stone and the clinking of what sounded like chainmail. Rising his head, Martin smiled and nodded towards one of the local patrol guards, Jesan Rilian. He had known Jesan since they were both children, having grown up and around him and his family members since he was small. Although they were the same age, the two of them had led completely different lives. Jesan lived and breathed the city where he came from, having served in the Kvatch guard since he was first allowed to. He wore his loyalty and his duty on his chest like a badge of pride, willing to be the helpful one that was always around if the townsfolk needed his aid.
"Afternoon, Jesan." Martin smiled warmly, rising to his feet. He extended a handed, which Jesan shook with a similar smile. The two of them had always been friendly to one another, although they had drifted apart when Martin decided that he wanted to travel. Now that he had returned, they had begun to rekindle their friendship whenever possible, but their respective jobs and duties had made it difficult as of late. "How can I help?"
"Just checking in." Jesan replied, nodding his head. It was normal for someone to do the rounds and check up on all of the shopkeepers and priests. Normally it was Ilend Vonius or Berich Inian, both veteran members of the Kvatch guard, who did the rounds, but it seemed like Jesan had stepped up to the plate to fill in this time around. Perhaps they were simply busy filling in for absent members, or perhaps they were absent themselves, either way it was a welcome change to the young priest, who didn't have a problem with any of the guards. He had known for quite a while and always had the time to chat with them. "Everything normal around here? Seen anything out of the ordinary?"
"Nothing that I've heard about." Martin replied, scratching at his chin. It was true, nothing seemed out of the ordinary to him. The town was the same as usual, the same people coming in and out of the chapel as normal on their day-to-day routines. He had spoken to those same people and told them what they needed to hear, but nothing about it ever seemed off to him. He believed it was just another day. Nothing ever happened to the people of Kvatch, not in the many years that Martin and his family had been living within the town. The most out of the ordinary thing that he remembered could have happened was an unsettling brawl between two people you wouldn't expect to be seen fighting. Outlandish things simply didn't happen in Kvatch. It was a religious community of farmers and people who wished to simply live a quiet life within city walls.
Nodding his head, Jesan tapped his fingers upon the pommel of his longsword and looked around the square they were stood in. Although he was in the midst of a small exchange with Martin, he still had to keep his eye out for any potential trouble going on around him and Martin understood that perfectly. He too was always on the watch for petty disturbances and other things that he could intervene within and cool down. He was a voice of reason in the town, after all, and many people would listen to his counsel if he told them that what they were doing was the wrong course of action for them to take and that if they continued they would find themselves somewhere that, in reflection, they wouldn't want to be. Most people listened to him after he had said those words, either because they understood what he meant or because he had used such long words that they felt intimidated. Martin didn't know which one the primary reason was, but he knew both had happened before.
"I'm glad to hear it." Jesan finally replied after a few moments. He seemed relieved that everything was fine with the people of the church, possibly because it lined up with the peacefulness that he had noticed ran throughout the whole town. It wouldn't surprise Martin to know that nothing out of the ordinary had taken place within the town whilst he had done his duties within the church. He was sure that everyone had simply been doing their daily rounds like he had been, with everyone making sure all of their stores were readily stocked and whatever merchandise they were selling on that particular day. Food and said merchandise had always been readily available to the people of Kvatch, with most of their wares and goods coming from both the farms in the nearby West Weald, with their vast countryside being good for growing crops, and the nearby port city of Anvil, of which Kvatch had a flourishing trade agreement and good diplomatic relation. "I would have thought that, with the news of the Emperor's death, things would be much worse."
"Folks around like to bottle things inside and keep it to themselves. I've had a small few come to seek guidance and support from said news, but I'm sure many others have simply tried to move past it they best they can." Martin mused, thinking about the events of days gone. The announcement about the Emperor and his sons had left a significant impact upon Kvatch, as Martin suspected it would have done with a lot of the other cities around the province. The Emperor had always been a larger-than-life figure to the people of Cyrodiil, as he had been for the rest of the Empire. With news of his assassination, and that of his sons, it left a raw and guttural feeling inside his people.
There had been many people in the chapel on that day, many people who needed the comfort of the gods or the help of the priests to get through what they had read from the papers. Martin had done his best to help those who needed his help, guiding those to seek the worship of the gods and to help them comprehend how the divines had let this happen. He tried to stay strong for them, but deep down, Martin knew something wasn't right. How could the Divines let this happen? How could they let the four most important people in the Empire be assassinated within hours of each other by some mysterious splinter group that had not yet been identified? Martin didn't know, but he could feel that the Imperial Legion and, to a lesser extent, the Blades would be under serious scrutiny by the people of the Imperial Empire until this mess was solved.
"We always move past the tragedies that befall us. We moved past the death of the Count's sons and we'll move through this." Jesan replied, also deep in thought. That had been another tragedy that had hit Kvatch hard, possibly even harder than the Emperor's death had. There had been a serious disagreement involving the inheritance of the Count, Ormellius Goldwine, which had left his two sons with serious bitterness towards one another. Martin didn't know exactly what had happened, but their bitterness had lead to a duel where both sons had killed one another, leaving the Count heirless. He had tried to remain strong, but everybody knew that Count Goldwine had become a shell of the man he had been once he heard the news that both his sons had been killed. Martin and his priests had, once again, been one of the lights in the darkness to the people during that time, providing solace and guidance for the people who were worried about the future of the town. Martin, in truth, didn't know where Kvatch would end up once Count Goldwine passed away, but was sure that they wouldn't find out for a long time. Count Goldwine was a strong man, a true leader and was in fine health despite his middle age. He wasn't going anywhere any time soon. "We're from Kvatch. The Wolf always survives."
"Indeed, it does, my friend." Martin nodded. That was always one of the firmest things he had believed in. No matter what happened, Kvatch would always survive. The community was strong and close, a community unrivalled by any other in Cyrodiil, possibly even Tamriel. They may just have been simple farmers and merchants, but their resolve and strength when under unrest was unwavering. Centuries before, Antus Pinder had shown this resolve and strength when he defended the city against the Camoran Usurper during the town's sacking. His strength and resolve had led to a statue being built in his honour, a true hero of Kvatch that all generations beyond had learned about from the parents and grandparents ever since. "Indeed, it does."
"Will we see you in the tavern later?" Jesan suddenly piped up, a smirk on his face. Martin could immediately tell that Jesan was trying to liven up the conversation and remove all of the darkness that had clouded it. They could only talk about death and the unknown lurking in the future for so long before they both began to feel bad about it all. They all still had emotions and could only deal with enough sadness before it influenced them and their mental states. Martin, therefore, thought it was a nice change. "Berich wants to see how many it will take before the priest of Akatosh is under the table."
Sharing a short laugh between them, Martin nodded his head in agreement. Nobody in the town could lie if they were asked if they enjoyed a drink or two. Some of the gatherings, social or more, that Martin had seen during his tenure as a priest were unbelievable. He had even gotten involved in a few, drinking the night away with his fellow citizens, but not many. He couldn't risk doing anything that he might have regretted while under the influence, especially with the station that he now held. He had done it all before in his younger days, back when he believed in a lord that thought that drinking and dancing into the night and until the morning sun was the only way that life should be lived. They were excellent days, Martin remembered them well, but didn't last before something went wrong.
"Anyway, I should probably get back on patrol." Jesan added, readjusting the scabbard of his longsword on his belt into a place where it was more comfortable and no longer dragging alongside his leg. Martin had never held a longsword or felt a scabbard on his belt, so he didn't know truly what it was like, but was sure it wasn't comfortable to feel when it was continually scratching against your leg. "Good speaking to you. Stay safe, Martin."
"You too, Jesan." Martin nodded, rubbing his hands together to remove the dirt he no doubt picked up from the steps. Just like the floor of the chapel, he was sure that the endless amount of the dirt from around the city seemed to end up on the steps of his chapel, despite how much he tried to keep the steps white and clean. "Divines bless you."
Watching the guard slowly move away from him and back through the city once again, Martin smiled. Everyone knew each other in Kvatch. Everyone cared and looked after one another. Strangers were welcomed like any other, but they did not share the bonds that existed between townspeople. Martin had seen it all. Neighbours walking together to the markets whilst talking about their plans for the day, friends going down to the taverns at night for rounds of ale and mead with enthusiasm. People simply enjoying their lives while they could, taking every moment in stride. It was a beautiful environment to exist in, Martin thought, and he knew he wouldn't trade it in for anything in the world. Not now, not ever.
Savlian Matius was getting too old for this job.
Staring up at the imposing sight that was Castle Kvatch itself before him, he felt his veteran 'experience', as he had taken to calling it, coming back to him. He remembered standing in the very place he was stood now not twenty years prior, back when he was a simple youth of twenty. He had just joined the Kvatch town guard as a simple recruit, a fresh-faced young soldier who wanted to serve the town that he had called home all of his life. Standing in the same spot now, he could feel his muscles ache with the wear and tear of decades past. He was an older man now, having just reached his middle age, and had far more experience than most of the younger guardsmen that had taken the place that he had once been in. Now serving as the Lieutenant of the Kvatch Guard, the second-in-command to Guard Captain Silus Janus, it was Matius' job to make sure that all Kvatch guardsmen performed their duties to the best of their ability.
It was a cold evening in Kvatch, far colder than the past few nights. Savlian hadn't expected to be up and about this late into the night but would do whatever the Count wished him to do. He had spent most of the day 'keeping the peace', which meant wandering around the town square on a patrol for most of the day. There was no such thing as keeping the peace in Kvatch, for the peace was never really broken. Most of the guardsmen in the city had never seen real combat, only what they had been trained with when they first signed up. Savlian, too, hadn't really seen much combat either. He had wished, in his younger days, to join the Imperial Legion but had, upon serious reflection, decided that he would have rather spent his time helping people closer to home than risking his life to help the larger majority.
Proceeding across the bridge that led to Castle Kvatch itself, Savlian adjusted the straps that held his shield in place on his forearm. Looking down at the old thing, he sighed with nostalgia and loosened the clasps just a little. He had carried the old thing with him since he had started in Kvatch, meaning it was the oldest piece of equipment that he had on his person since that day. The guardsmen had always tried to make him change for a better, far sturdier shield, but Savlian would always respond that he liked the way that this one felt on his arm. The paint had begun to scratch off of it, despite his best intentions of trying to repaint over it, and the woodwork had become dented and scratched with time. He knew that it probably didn't have much life in it before he would eventually have to change it for another, more improved, shield, but that didn't mean he wouldn't hold onto it for as long as he possibly could. Memories meant a lot to him.
He had been summoned to the keep for a meeting with Count Goldwine and Guard Captain Gone, but the reason why had been kept a secret from him. Whatever they wanted to speak to him about, it seemed they wanted to keep it confidential between the three of them, meaning it was important in nature. Perhaps it could be simply nothing, just a routine discussion about the recruitment of more guardsmen following the news about the Emperor, but Savlian couldn't help but feel like it was something far more serious than that. The entire situation had left a bad feeling in Savlian's stomach; something simply just felt off. He didn't know if anybody else around town, or even around the whole Empire, had felt it like he did, but he knew he had the feeling that something bigger was afoot. The Emperor had been murdered, but that didn't seem like the end but more like the beginning of something far worse, like an evil had been unleashed on the world.
Scratching at the lower half of his face as he reached the castle doors, Savlian took in a deep breath. The once-brown beard that he had grown had begun to litter itself with specks of black, white and grey, the signs of a salt-and-pepper beard that came to those who were reaching a significant age. He had made the decision to shave all his hair off a few months beforehand, preferring to keep his hair short and under control now instead of the long and wavy locks that he had sported in his youth. However, he made the decision to keep the purple cloth bandana that he pridefully sported. He had worn it since he had started to tie his long hair back from his face but decided that he didn't wish to part with it, just like he refused to part with his shield. They were mementos of his service and he would keep them on him until he could physically no longer.
Pushing the doors wide open and entering inside, Savlian made his way down the steps and down into the throne room itself. Looking upon the mighty throne of Kvatch before him, he marvelled in its simplistic beauty. It wasn't grand or elegant, but a simple wooden chair created from a smooth, brown wood that had been polished and sanded to perfection, adorned with the crest of county Kvatch on either side and accented by purple cushions on the back and seat of the chair. It had been made for comfort, not elegance. The people of Kvatch didn't count themselves as grandiose or fancy, but hard-working and proper men and women who worked for what they had achieved. It was that sort of thing that Savlian had always loved about Kvatch; the die-hard spirit that lived within every man who lived and worked in the city. Their collective spirit and strength were unrivalled by any city across Tamriel. The community was untouchable and unreal.
Making his way up to the throne, Savlian soon noticed that the Count was nowhere to be seen. He had been given direct orders to report to the keep for a meeting, and yet neither of them were anywhere to be seen on the premises. Perhaps he had arrived too early, for he was known for being overly punctual when it came to important matters. He was soon joined by a member of the castle guard, who bowed their head in respect on approach.
"Lieutenant Matius. Good to see you." She spoke with genuine respect, although Savlian wasn't sure if he had ever spoken to her before. His name carried weight within the ranks of the Kvatch city guard, one of the few remaining members of the old guard who had been around when the younger members of the guard were still children. Savlian remembered guardsmen like Ilend Vonius and Jesan Rillian when they were just boys playing in the schoolyard and running around the square like terrors. Now they were fully-grown men and fine warriors, taking up the mantle like Savlian had done when he was their age. He was proud of them, all the younger men and women who had taken up the charge of defending Kvatch against its would-be enemies. He was proud to see that the spirit of Kvatch would never die. "The Count is waiting for you in his chambers."
"Thank you." Savlian bowed his head in response, showing the same respect to the castle guardswoman as she had shown to him, before making his way up the stairs that wrapped around the back of the throne and into the private quarters. Wandering through the corridor that ran the length of the castle, Savlian looked around and sighed. The rooms that had once belonged to the Count's sons still remained empty, their portraits still hanging on the walls for all to see. It seemed that Count Goldwine was still in mourning for his sons, even though it had been at least a year since the tragic event. Savlian had never lost someone, nor did he ever wish that he would. He had no family to speak of, no wife or sons, but he couldn't imagine the pain of losing your only remaining offspring on the same day. He wondered how the Count coped, for even the strongest men like Ormellius would have cracked under the enormous grief that overwhelmed them.
Entering into the Count's personal quarters, Savlian closed the doors behind him and entered into the study. It was a modest room, with multiple bookshelves and a large writing desk inside. The Count's personal wine rack hung on the wall with multiple vintages inside, among other personal effects he had lying around on those walls. His bedroom was just beyond, but Savlian had never had the privilege of ever going inside. That was for the Count and the Count alone, he wouldn't have dare to ever step across that threshold without even the slightest permission from Goldwine himself. As he properly walked inside, Savlian found both Count Goldwine and Guard Captain Janus standing in the centre of the room, talking to themselves about something that Savlian was yet to properly hear. Upon seeing him arrive, they stopped talking and instead turned to face him.
"Savlian." The Count spoke up, smiling a warm smile. His hair had completely greyed, whether it be through age or the stress of his grief in the last year, and his face was showing his age, for the wrinkles and stress lines had become paramount on his features. Yet that did not slow down Ormellius Goldwine, for he was still strong and spirited in his rule of his county. No one could say that age was slowing down the old Count. Savlian couldn't imagine the county without the Count, for even he had been decades into his reign when Savlian was starting his career in the guard. The man seemed ageless.
"Savlian." Silus Janus spoke next, stepping aside a little to invite Savlian towards them. The Guard Captain and Savlian were very much alike, both being natives of the town who had sacrificed their dreams to join the Legion to instead serve their county. He was yet another member of Kvatch's old guard, with his black-and-white goatee joining the ponytail that hung down his neck being Janus' vain attempts to keep a hold of the youthful appearance and style that he had once flaunted to the women of the town. Unlike Savlian, Silus had settled down to raise a family whilst contending with his duties. His wife, Amaria, was a greengrocer who had worked her family's stall in the market since she was a teen. Savlian knew her well and had even been present for their wedding.
"Gentlemen." Savlian nodded, wandering in to join them. By the stern looks on their faces, it seemed like Savlian's suspicions about the seriousness of their conversation was true. He was glad that he was being included, although he wasn't sure why the rest of the guardsmen weren't being involved. It was their duty to protect the people of Kvatch and should therefore be included on all aspects of how the city should be protected. Perhaps they would be told in time, but for now it was down to the three of them to discuss what was going on.
The Count's face took a sombre expression as he broke away from the two of them. Scratching at his chin, the Colovian signet ring that he wore on his ring finger glistened in the light from the window. The ring was the Count of Kvatch's seal of office, the engraving in the middle used to seal letters with wax, among other things. It showed that the wearer was the leader of the people of Kvatch and invited respect from all those who saw him wear it.
"I didn't bring you here to waste your time, my friends. I have dire news." The Count began, scratching at his chin. He seemed legitimately concerned about what he was about to tell them in a way that Savlian had never seen before. It made him nervous to know what he was about to say, but he listened well nevertheless. "As you know from the papers, Emperor Uriel Septim and his sons have been murdered. The culprits, thus far, have eluded capture from the Imperial Legion and remain unknown."
The assassination. Savlian didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. It was the only thing on the minds of the Empire and its people, so it made sense that the Count's news would have related to this. Savlian, among others, didn't know where the Empire would go following the news. He was sure that the Elder Council had emergency plans following the news, but the end of a ruling dynasty was something that none of them could ever have imagined. It was shocking to know that their lives had all been flipped upside down in a single night, for everyone in Tamriel would never know the world in the same way again. Savlian knew that the peace they had now wouldn't last, for with unrest and confusion comes people's need for dissension. There would be rebellions and some of the provinces would try for independence, but Savlian trusted the strength of the Imperial Legion in the dire times they would soon face. They would need them to be strong.
"I've received word from the Elder Council that the assassins who killed the Emperor and his sons can only be identified by the crimson robes that they wear." The Count continued, his tone becoming more and more distressed with every word that came from his lips. Whatever he was building up to, it seemed to legitimately terrify him. Savlian had never seen Count Goldwine act in such a manner and he was sure that Silus hadn't either. The deaths of his sons he had met with grief and sadness, but not genuine terror like he was facing this news. It seemed like a legitimate threat was being made from these assassins.
"Why are you telling us this, milord?" Silus spoke up, folding his arms. Savlian always noted that Silus had a good relationship with the Count. They had become good friends over their respective times in office, sharing many moments together as comrades. If someone could speak sense into the Count and get the conversation moving, it was Silus.
"I didn't want to reveal it to anyone but you two. This has to be kept a secret." Count Goldwine turned towards them, running his hands over one another as a form of fidgeting. He seemed to need to keep them active as he spoke. "Our gate guards spotted red robed men heading inside the city gates around two nights ago. I have reason to believe that they may belong to the organization that killed Uriel Septim."
Silence fell over the room, all of them unable to speak. Savlian couldn't believe it. If this was true, then they were in grave danger. He had thought that things were serious, but he had no idea that things had become so serious. If the assassins were hiding within the city streets, then they must have come to Kvatch to hide. Savlian couldn't doubt their plan, for nobody ever looked for anything serious within Kvatch. For them to come and hide in a city where nothing ever happened, and newcomers were welcomed was a good idea, but it was only a matter of time before they would weed them out.
"Are you certain of this?" Savlian asked. It had come as a shock for sure, but they needed to make sure that they would make the right decision. There was no definitive knowledge that pointed to the assassins being located in Kvatch, just the accusations of men and women who believed what they had seen. Those travellers simply could have been travellers dressed with crimson-coloured cloaks, not the men and women who had butchered the last remaining members of the Septim dynasty. "We need to make sure that this is more than simple speculation. We have nothing but a mere glimpse to work with."
"It doesn't matter. We need to find them and kill them. The sooner the better." Silus was the first one to speak. He was the Guard Captain, of course he was the one who was first to speak. Silus had always been one to act first and think things through later, whether it was a good thing to do was up for debate when it was all said and done. Savlian, on the other hand, didn't know what to think about the situation. He had a feeling that something was off, but he would never have expected it to have been this kind of off. "Every minute we waste is a minute we give them to burrow further down into their dens."
"No. That's the worst thing that we could do." Savlian replied. Silus was headstrong and proud, but he thought with his heart instead of his brain. To immediately go out and try and weed out the assassins would have been the biggest mistake that they could have made, but Silus would have only realized that once the deed was done and he had to deal with the consequences. "If they even are the assassins we think they are and we go out to try and burn them out of their hideouts, then they'll just panic and cause us more problems. We find them, and then we watch them. No more."
"Savlian is right." Count Goldwine nodded, turning his back to his companions. He seemed the deepest in thought about what was going on. He needed to make sure that they chose the right decisions, for all of this was now down to them. Savlian trusted that Ormellius would make the right decision. He had been in office long enough to know what course of action would be right or wrong. It all depended on how long the assassins had actually been in their city and if they were simply hiding or planning something else. That's what they needed to distinguish. "If we make one wrong move, we will lose them. We need to be careful."
"If we are going to find them, then we will need to put our best people on the case." Count Goldwine continued, finally turning around to face Savlian and Silus. He seemed like he had decided on his plan of action after hearing their squabbling just behind him. Savlian couldn't fault Silus for being passionate about wanting to remove a potential threat, but he needed to make sure that things were done in a way that could not bring lasting consequences upon the people and the city. "Savlian, I want you to spearhead the investigation into these travellers. I will allow to a squad of guardsmen to round up these would-be assassins and bring them in for questioning. Silus, it is up to you and the rest of the guardsmen to keep order in the city and make sure the populace does not discover our investigation."
"It would be my honour, milord." Savlian nodded and bowed in respect. He still had an off feeling about the entire situation, but he knew now that he would at least be the one to be tracking down and removing said bad feeling. Perhaps it would be nothing, Savlian hoped dearly that it would be nothing, but they would only find that out if they were able to track down the owners of the crimson robes. Only then would they realize the danger that they could have possibly now found themselves in. "I'll begin at once."
Taking his leave, Savlian left the chambers and rubbed his hands together as he walked. He needed good guardsmen and good leads. There had to be someone, anyone, in this entire city that had seen some sign of these men. They were bound to turn up, for Kvatch wasn't as big of a city as many people thought when criminals hid within its walls.
It had been around a week since the assassination of Uriel Septim, but things had mostly been normal day for the entire town. Nothing special had been going on of note apart from the closing of the summer market. Martin had noted that the leaves had finally begun to fall from the trees; autumn was finally coming into season. It wouldn't be long before the harvests, which would mean the market would be open once again with new stallholders. The farmers would come from all around Colovia to sell the crops they had grown, digging them up just in time to be able to plant new ones for the new season. It made the town a considerable profit and generally brought people together, but Martin couldn't help but think the news about the Emperor would overshadow the proceedings. News like that didn't just dissipate into dust like most stories did after a few weeks. No, this one would linger on the minds and the hearts of the people for a long while yet.
Sweeping up the floor of the chapel, Martin didn't think about the potential threat. He just focused on the task at hand. He didn't need his own mind to be clouded by the thoughts that plagued the rest of the populace. His mind would be cleared through prayer and confidence in the Divines, in holy Akatosh and his teachings. Through all of this, however, there was one thing on Martin's mind that he simply couldn't shake off. Something that troubled him, albeit not too deeply for him to care significantly.
For the last few days, Martin had noticed something outside the chapel. At both midday and at dusk, two men had always been stood opposite to the building on the other side of the square, looking at the chapel with some interest. Normally, he wouldn't have been too bothered about two men standing outside the chapel. It was a public place for people to look upon and the two were committing no crimes by doing what they were doing. Nothing about them looked suspicious, just two men, albeit men that Martin had never seen before or spoken to, dressed in regular clothes with non-distinguishable faces. However, the fact that they stood in the exact same spot at the exact same times without fail for around the week made Martin feel uneasy. It felt like they were planning something, like their spot was meeting place for the two of them, somewhere they could meet at these times without being noticed by anyone else in the town.
Standing by the doors to the chapel, Martin brought his broom up to a vertical level and tapped his fingers on the length of it. He knew that he needed to simply forget about the men outside the chapel. They were simple civilians doing what they wanted to do and there was no harm in them doing just that., However, Martin's curiosity was scratching at him, like an itch at the back of his brain. He wanted to know more, to learn what these people were doing. Perhaps it was just the hobbies of simple men, perhaps they were harmless, but Martin could not longer justify those thoughts to himself any more. The more he thought about them, the more uneasy he felt.
Making the decision, Martin leant the broom against the wall and walked towards the doors to the chapel. Opening one of the doors just enough for him to get a clear look outside, Martin felt his heart sink inside his chest. This time, there was only one of them as opposed to the second that had always been with them. Arms folded, hood drawn over to hide his features. Tapping his foot on the cobblestones underneath him, he seemed to study the doors and the architecture of the chapel with some interest. Martin watched him for a while, hidden himself within the shadows that were thrown off from the doorway of the chapel. He could not see Martin, but Martin could see him very well. He didn't seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary or incriminating, perhaps he was simply just a traveller, but Martin suspected that he had ulterior motives that were potentially sinister.
To steady and calm himself, Martin took in a deep breath and opened the door wide. He couldn't tiptoe around this situation any longer. It wasn't doing anything for either of them. All Martin knew he needed to do was walk up and simply start a conversation with this man, to determine what he was doing and whether Martin could assist him with them if they nothing but simple curiosity or interest in the chapel. Making his way down the steps, Martin watched the man's eyes slowly move to meet his, a moment beginning between them as they slowly began to look each other up and down. Neither of them addressed the other, but simply just watched and got a read on one another as he walked forwards to talk.
"Can I help you?" Martin asked, clasping his hands as he addressed the man. He was an Imperial, although his features were completely darkened by the crimson-coloured hood that he wore with his cloak. He was a little taller than Martin, although not much, and seemed quite scrawny in body. He didn't look like someone who could assassinate an Emperor.
"What makes you I would I need your help?" The man replied, his voice gruff. He seemed very confrontational as he spoke, his body language completely closed off and intent on repelling Martin in every way, shape and form. Whoever he was, he had no intention of making any attempt to conversation and instead wished for Martin to leave him be, which is the completely opposite of what Martin intended to do.
"I have noticed you've stood here a lot in the last few days." Martin replied, explaining his actions and why he had chosen to speak to him. He only thought that, if he explained his train of thought, the conversation would open a little bit more and Martin would be able to get just a little bit more information from the man. There was no major harm in that, was there? "I'm the priest here. If you need anything, I am happy to assist you-"
"No. There's no need." The man grunted, shaking his head quickly. Folding his arms, he moved his head to break eye contact with Martin. After a few moments, he even went as far as to turn away to the side so that Martin couldn't even try and look at his face. The man seemed completely and utterly disinterested with him, something that Martin hadn't really expected when he came to speak. He was so used to people being willing to stop and talk whenever he spoke to them, just like he did when they tried to speak to him, that he felt it quite jarring to be ignored in such a manner. "I'm just studying the chapel."
"For what purpose, if I may ask?" Even though it was evident that he was going to get nothing from this man, Martin knew he had to try anyhow. He wouldn't be able to rest properly without knowing the true purpose of this man.
"It's not of your concern." The man growled once more, turning his head even further away. Taking a step back, he pulled his hood further over his features and stared at Martin for a few moments, before taking a few more steps back. Not only was trying to stop Martin from talking to him, but he was now actively trying to be nowhere near Martin. The man was completely disinterested in him, despite the fact to Martin and probably everybody else that looked upon the man he was simply staring at nothing. "Now please. Leave me be."
"Of course. My apologies for disturbing you." Finally relenting, Martin held his hands apologetically and made his way back towards the chapel, not looking back. He wouldn't look back, not until he was sure that he was behind the walls of the chapel and the man could no longer see him. The man wasn't going to tell him anything at all, thus Martin decided to end the time he was wasting and simply return to the errands he wanted to finish before he could go downstairs into his chambers to sleep.
Finally turning around when he was hidden behind the doors of the chapel, Martin watched carefully as the man slowly turned around and skulked back into the shadows. Whatever he was doing had been interrupted by Martin, which seemed to shake him enough to retreat and disappear into the night like he had done many times beforehand. Although he was gone now, Martin didn't feel any more secure. He would be back again though, most likely alongside his male companion, who had been mysteriously absent on this night. The short conversation that Martin had with the man had all but liven his suspicions about whether the man and his accomplice were up to something.
Martin knew he had to report to the guards. He had to report this suspicious behaviour and make sure that whatever these people could have been planning would never come to pass. However, his doubt about the situation still ate away at him. He had made wrong decisions before, lapses in judgement which had ended up getting people killed. The consequences of the actions he would take would no doubt have lasting consequences, but Martin wasn't sure if he would be able to take that on his conscience. He wasn't sure if he could cope with the idea that he had sent an innocent man to their death simply because of his paranoia about them standing outside of his chapel for extended periods of time.
Subconsciously beginning to bite his fingernails, Martin took in a deep breath and tried to steady himself. His mind was racing, different possibilities and outcomes of what his words to the right and wrong people could do. He needed some time to think it all over, to sleep on it all and decide when the morning came around.
"Two weeks!"
Savlian felt as if he had been going around in circles. He had done everything that he could have possibly thought of in an attempt to find these so-called 'assassins' that the Count had mentioned had somehow entered the city, yet for some reason everything that he turned up that could lead him to them turned into a dead end. Every time he or one of his guardsmen thought that they had seen one of them and tried to approach, they were spotted and caused the 'assassins' to slink back into the shadows and escape their grasp once more. He literally felt like he was banging his head against a wall, like he was reaching out for strings that could lead him to something that wasn't truly there.
"Two weeks of patrolling the city, trying to find anything to do with these damned red robe-wearing bastards and we've turned up nothing!" Sitting down at one of the tables in the north-eastern guard tower where he stationed himself, Savlian dropped his head into his heads and sighed with utter frustration. When he had agreed to the Count's plan, he thought everything would be so simple. He was expecting to scout out the town and wait for them to make a move, not be looking for needles in a haystack. "It makes no sense. There's no reason why they should be able to just vanish like this!"
"Relax, Savlian." Sitting on the main floor of the guard tower with him, Savlian looked up at his old friend in Berich Inian and smiled as best he could in the current situation. Berich was another member of Kvatch's 'old guard' and had entered the ranks around the same time that Savlian had. The two had spent countless days and nights together as both comrades and partners, so much so that they had learned to become best friends. Savlian knew Berich like the back of his hand, something he was sure was replicated on Berich's end too. They knew each other's strength and weaknesses, their like and dislikes and more. If there was anyone that could calm Savlian down at the current time, it was Berich. "I'm sure they'll come crawling out of their holes eventually. They'll have to come up for air."
"The longer we wait for them to come out, the more chance they have to plot something against both us and the town." As he spoke, Savlian realized that he was beginning to share the same thoughts that Silus had been thinking when they originally started to work on this investigation. Savlian had been given the position that he was in now simply because the Count didn't trust Silus to perform the duties assigned to him in the manner that was both appropriate and needed for them to catch the assassins. If Count Goldwine knew that Savlian had begun to think the same way, he wouldn't be pleased. Savlian didn't want to think about the chance of him being removed from the case. He had put too much effort into the investigation, too much information learned for little gain, for him to be pulled off of it now for someone else to take his place. It would be an insult to his honour.
"If they were planning something, you would have found at least a clue by now." Berich stated, sitting down in a chair at the opposite end of the room. Picking up a red apple from the pewter bowl in the centre of the table, Berich took a deep bite into it as he spoke. It was obvious that he was trying to calm Savlian down, but none of it was working. The entire situation had built Savlian's anxiety and paranoia up way too much for him to be coaxed back down by simple conversation. He wanted to find these men. He needed to find them, otherwise he knew he would start tearing his hair out from his scalp.
"No, I think we're dealing with proper professionals here." Savlian replied with a lowered tone, scratching at his head in frustration as his entire body posture sank lower and lower. He kept his head in his hands, going as close as to place his entire forehead down on the cold wood of the table below him. He was at his wit's end, unable to think about anything but the situation at hand at the current time. "It's one thing to kill the Emperor, but the fact that they've managed to disappear in such a manner is unbelievable to me."
Adjusting his cloth headband as best he could, making sure it was tight enough to not fall from his face, Savlian tapped his left knuckles against his right palm and looked around. Through the window to his left, dusk had fallen, and the day was ending. Another day where he had failed to make any progress and simply stayed exactly where he was. He didn't know how long it would take before he would lose all hope for his investigation and simply close the book on it all. They were losing too much time and wasting too many resources chasing down something akin to an invisible threat, they couldn't keep it up for that much longer without questions beginning to be asked about their productivity.
Before they could even continue their train of thought, however, they were rushed by Ignar Rodblock, one of the few Nords to serve in the Kvatch guard. A burly and quite butch man by nature, Ignar was one of the strongest and tough men that Savlian had ever met, let alone served and fought with. Looking up at him from the desk, Savlian could immediately see the something out of the ordinary had happened.
"Savlian! Berich!" Ignar looked demented, as if his worst fears had overtaken him. He was erratic in his movements as he clung to the door handle, his clenched fist shaking over the knob as he stood and stared at them both. Savlian had never seen him in such a state, hands trembling and face wracked with fear. A part of him didn't want to know what had happened, but he was sure that was never going to happen. It was his job to find out what was going on and correct it, even if it was something terrible.
"Ignar?" Savlian began as he rose from his chair, slowly but surely. Deep down in his gut, he didn't know what to do. He hadn't expected this, especially so far into the evening. Things were wrapping down; the market was closing up and people were returning home to see out their nights with family and friends. Nothing out of the ordinary happened at these times, not usually at the very least. "What's happened?"
"There's something outside the gates…" Ignar simply shook his head and pushed the door open wider, finally releasing his grip on the doorknob. Savlian moved to speak but was immediately cut off by Ignar's quick gaze. There was no room to argue with him, not when he was dead firm in what he was saying. "You need to see this for yourself."
Nodding, Savlian stood tall and grasped his gauntlets from the table in front of him, before he quickly rushed out of the door to follow Ignar, with Berich following suit just behind them. All around them, the townsfolk seemed to be in shock. People rushed around them, nervous and anxious for what was to come. Husbands ushered their families into their homes, parents made sure their children were locked indoors. Whatever it was these people had seen, it scared them like nothing they had ever seen before.
"When did it appear?" Savlian asked, pulling his gauntlets onto his hands as quickly as he could, pulling the chainmail as far up his arm as he could to meet with his chainmail hauberk. Adjusting the white tabard they all wore, the insignia that showcased them as a servant and protector of Kvatch and its people, Savlian looked around him at what was happening. There was no imminent threat, but that didn't mean that it didn't scare the townsfolk. Savlian needed to assess the situation himself before he could make any decisions about it.
"Not half an hour ago," Ignar replied, hastening his walk as he rushed towards the walkway that led to the city walls. His breathing was off, panicked and anxious. He was as scared as the regular townspeople, something Savlian would never have expected. He was a trained soldier since the age of eighteen, a native of Skyrim whose family had moved to Kvatch when he was but a teenager. If there was a man that had seen more violence and been trained to be strong and disciplined, it was Ignar. "It's-it's unlike anything I've ever seen."
"Does Silus know about this?" It was vitally important that Silus was both involved and taking an active role in what was to come. Without him, Savlian knew that the guard would be disorganized and clueless with what to do. T hey needed leadership, most of them being young farmboys who had decided to volunteer and protect their homes. None of them had really fought in a battle, none of them had been prepared for this. If there was to be a confrontation, or something worse, Savlian wasn't sure how they would fare. He didn't want to think of the worst, but he knew deep down in his gut that it would come to that and terrible things would have happened when the dust had settled.
"He rushed off to the Castle to inform the Count." Ignar replied, making his way up the stone steps that led to the top of the main gate battlements. Savlian could already see that things were a lot different than he remembered them. More guards than usual lined the walls, all of them seemingly having abandoned their posts to see what exactly they were dealing with or having been temporarily reassigned to make sure they were sufficiently reinforced. "Told us to inform you and make sure nothing happens while he was gone."
Walking up onto the battlements, all of the guards saluting Savlian as he moved past them, he walked to the wall's edge and leant on the half-wall. Looking down at the stables below, Savlian couldn't believe what he was seeing. Ignar was right to be shocked by what it was. It seemed like a portal of some kind, burning with a liquid-like orange glow. In the centre floating a large, circular rock of some kind that seemed to bobble in the centre, with the entire portal itself seemingly stuck to the ground by blackened rock that formed a shape around it. Spikes that looked soaked with dried blood had jutted up all around it, the ground below it that had once been green and fertile now blackened and dead.
"Wha-what is it?" Savlian stumbled over his words, trying to find the correct thing to say. Looking at his comrades, they all seemed as dumbstruck and anxious as he was. Berich couldn't take his eyes from the thing, staring it in disbelief. This was unlike anything he could have expected to see when Ignar had rushed into the tower. All of them looked on in shock, none of them knowing precisely what the right call was. They needed to do something, to make sure that whatever this 'portal' was, it wouldn't be a threat to them or the town.
Before anyone could even answer him, the portal began to make some sort of noise. A whirring sound that was completely foreign to Savlian. They all turned to look as the portal's contents swirled and shifted inside its rocky formation, eventually releasing something out into the world in front of it. All of them seemingly recoiled as the creature began to move back and forth outside of the portal, seemingly looking for something. It seemed to be scanning the area, scouting the local surroundings. Savlian had never seen anything quite like it. It was small, with black fur covering its legs and a tail that stretched down to the floor. Its ears jutted out on each side of its head as it moved back and forth in a curious manner, making some sort of strange, almost-wheezing noise.
All of them stood there in shock. None of them knew what to do. Even Savlian himself didn't know what they could do. Looking down the line of guardsmen, Savlian held his hand up to stop them from doing anything rash, before moving closer towards the edge. He needed to see this properly, to understand precisely what this thing was doing at their gates and what it wanted from them. Did it want to attack and invade? Or make peace and talk? Savlian had never encountered something like this and hoped deep down that he never would have to again, for this was something far beyond what he wanted to see in his life.
"Lieutenant!" One of the guardsmen closest to him shouted, catching everyone's attentions within seconds. He seemed to have turned his attention from the creature outside of their gates to something else which he deemed far more important. Whatever it was, Savlian knew he needed to check it out. Turning around to face them, Savlian noticed them pointing into the town with what seemed to be extreme urgency. Following the direction of his hand, Savlian turned and saw exactly what he was directing him and the others towards.
Across the city, through the winding streets that made up Kvatch, another one of the strange portals had opened. However, this time more and more creatures of different shapes and sizes were piling out of it. They swarmed through the market square within what felt like mere moments of arriving, some like the creature at the gate and others more humanoid, dressed in armour unlike anything Savlian had ever seen. They threw themselves towards whatever buildings they could, smashing windows and hammering down doors as they attacked anything within their sights.
The front gate had been a distraction.
"Daedra!" Another of the guardsmen yelled, finally giving a name to their foes. His scream seemed to attract attention, however, as one of the smaller creatures caught onto him and flung a fireball in their direction, causing most of the guard to scatter into different parts of the battlements in search of some form of protection against the magic. Savlian shook his head and tried to spur himself into action, rushing back to the wall to see what was happening outside the city walls. Just like he had predicted, more and more daedra were swarming out of that gate as well, hammering down on the city gates with brute force as they seemed to try and smash the doors open to allow them access.
"Archers! Open fire!" Savlian cried in the general direction of his comrades, ducking his head as an enemy arrow came flying in their direction. Rushing down the battlement stairs, flanked on either side by guardsmen who decided that they wished to come with him, Savlian drew his longsword and rushed into the market square, preparing himself as best he could to fight against the daedra that had taken them by complete surprise.
"What do we do, sir?" Another one of the guardsmen asked from behind. Turning his head to look at the man who had just spoken, Savlian's heart sank. He was barely twenty years old, fresh-faced and a mere recruit. His hand trembled as he held his shield, trying to find the perfect posture as he prepared himself for battle.
"We do what we must." Savlian replied, swallowing heavily. He knew what he needed to do now. He needed to protect the town, to guide these men into saving as many citizens as they possibly could from this threat. He didn't know where this threat had come from and, at the current moment, wasn't sure if he wanted to know. All his mind was focused on was trying to find the perfect way to survive this crisis. "We protect Kvatch, Forwards!"
Throwing his hand up into the air, Savlian rallied as many of his comrades as he could as he charges forwards into the daedra ranks, screaming a battle cry alongside them as they rushed forth to meet their opponents. Pulling his shield up against his face, Savlian rushed forwards and barrelled into a larger, more humanoid daedra with as much force as he could, still roaring a hearty cry as he simply wished for the best.
He knew it would be a long night. The longest night of his life.