Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scrolls.


Vokun Muz

It feels quite cool, in a mad way, to be someone who skulks about in the shadows.

Peter Baynham

Marc's declaration silenced all who heard it. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him. The old man felt them as well and motioned for Marc to follow him. He led him to another part of the ruin which served as an officer's quarters. The older nord led him Marc to his quarters then shut the door behind him. The old man's room was tidy, but filled with books and maps. The old man motioned for Marc to sit in of the two chairs in the room, which he did. The old man sat in the other.

"Tell me everything." He demanded. Marc slowly unfolded the tale starting from Helgen all the way to the attack on the watchtower. At the end of the narrative Marc pulled out his pipe and began to smoke some. The old man leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "You have no idea where he went?"

"No idea, Praetor, but I have something that might help Dreamer to figure it out." Marc produced a steel arrow and placed it on the table. Praetor gave him a questioning look. Marc explained further. "It belonged to either the dragonborn or the dunmer that travels with him. Dreamer might be able to divine where the owner is."

"He might, but not too likely with such a small item, but then again it's worth a shot." Praetor rose from his chair and opened the door. "Bring the seer to me." He yelled to the nearest officer, who rushed to do his bidding. Praetor returned to his seat, his wrinkly hands showing his age. It was a small reminder to Marc that even though Praetor didn't act it, he was old, and it would soon be time for him to join his predecessors in Sovngarde. Soon the door opened and a tall skinny khajiit entered. At first glance he looked the same as any other khajiit, but everyone there knew that was not true.

"Khajiit was called, so khajiit come. Why is khajiit called?" Technically, he had no name, so he always called himself 'khajiit', but everyone just called him Dreamer. Praetor explained the situation while Dreamer listened quietly. When he was finished Dreamer nodded. "Khajiit will do what he can, but he makes no promises." He picked up the arrow and examined it carefully. He ran his hands across the shaft then sniffed deeply. "The smell of nord is faint, but scent of elf is strong." Marc cursed.

"That would be the dunmer woman. Blast! I was hoping it belonged to the dragonborn." Marc placed juniper leaves in his pipe and smoked more. Dreamer's head bobbed downward, as if he had fallen asleep. This was why he was called Dreamer, when he was divining he went into a trance, which made him look like he was sleeping. Patiently they waited for him to finish. Eventually Dreamer raised his head.

"Khajiit see danger ahead for the owner of this arrow."

"Where?" Praetor asked.

"The mountain where the beacon is to be laid."

Marc grunted, irritated. "That's just great. Where in a thousand deadra is…" Praetor interrupted him.

"Mt. Kilkreath."

"What?"

Praetor explained further. "Near Solitude is a temple to Meridia. The beacon, a glowing orb, has been missing for some time. My guess is that your dunmer friend has found it and intends to bring it to it's proper place."

Dreamer nodded. "It is as you say. The elf's trial awaits her within, their she is beyond assistance. But khajiit see three proud gold-skins as well. The encounter will not end well."

"Bah! Thalmor!" Marc spat. "Always popping up in the most annoying of places." Marc, like most everyone else, hated Thalmor with a vengeance.

"What do you say Marc?" Praetor asked, "Up for a bit of elf hunting?"

"Aye, then I'm stopping at Solitude. Perhaps the dragonborn is there." Marc rose to leave, but the old man stood up as well.

"If you don't find him, give a courier this letter. Then you have three days leave." Marc accepted the letter then brought his fist up in a nordic salute. "Talos guard you." Praetor told him as he returned the salute. Once Mark left the room the aged Praetor sank into his chair. Dreamer rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Khajiit think that Marc would make excellent Praetor."

Praetor rubbed his arms to ease the soreness in them. "He will some day. But he's too prone to get irritated and angry at circumstances."

"He will learn."

Praetor didn't answer, only sighed audibly. "I feel old." He finally stated. "I don't think I'll live to see too many more days."


The four of them reached Solitude just before noon. After leaving their horses at the stable they entered the city, right in time for an execution. Once Jayson heard the condemned man had allowed Ulfric out of the city after he had murdered the High King, he stormed away toward Castle Dour. The others lingered to watch the rest of the execution. Though the man tried to defend his actions he was met with loud boo's from the gathered crowd. Inevitably, the man's head was severed by the headsman's axe and his body carried away. Lydia headed off to catch up with Jayson while Camenon said he had business at the Blue Palace. Now alone, Jenassa decided to go to the inn for lunch. It was a simple but delicious fare that she ate quickly. After the meal she left the city. Outside she was able to get directions to Mt. Kilkreath from a bored guard. Unwilling to back on a horse so soon she decided to walk. When she passed the stables she saw Lydia and a man in heavy imperial armor arguing and pointing to different spots on a map. Curious she closed the distance. As she got closer she recognized the man as Jayson. Jayson gave a wave of acknowledgement but continued to argue with Lydia.

"We can't waste time and stop at Morthal, we need to get to Korvanjund as quickly as possible. Legate Rikke is ahead of us with her detachment. Speed is everything right now."

"As you wish, thane."

"What are you two up to?" Jenassa asked them.

"General Tullius put me on assignment right away. We're going of to some ruin to get a crown before the Stormcloaks do."

"Sounds fun." Jenassa replied shook his head.

"No, this is business. Fun is a night at a tavern." Jayson mounted Bree with one swift motion. He looked off into the distance shading his eyes with his hand. "We won't be there until early morning and we need to catch up with the legate's detachment, so we'd better get moving." He looked back down at Jenassa. "Guess this is where we part ways." He noted, solemness creeping into his voice.

"I guess so." Surprisingly, she had enjoyed the time they had fought together. Hey, and he had saved her life too. Somewhere along the line they had developed a sort of bond, and it felt like they were about to break it. Without thinking she reached up and placed a hand on his.

"It is a lonely thing facing all the dangers of Skyrim by yourself. Come and find me, when you feel you miss my…" She searched for the right word. "Companionship."

Jayson smiled. He held her hand for a moment then bent down and kissed it. With one last smile he let go of her hand and headed down the road towards another dangerous quest.


Marc sat in ambush on the road from Dragon's Bridge to Solitude. He had made good time by skipping sleep, something he did often. He had stopped at Dragon's Bridge, a small town west of Solitude, and asked a few questions. He found out the Thalmor were in the inn drinking and making a nuisance of themselves. Marc would've liked nothing better than to walk right in and gut the lot of them. But this was a covert assassination, he didn't need to make a public statement and possibly reveal his organization's existence. Secrecy was so important that no one, outside of the member's, knew it even existed, period.

Marc had picked his ambush site well. There were plenty of trees on the northern side of the road, they would keep him hidden. The Thalmor's natural pride made them extremely predictable. They always stuck to the main roads and never bothered to hide their presence, such a thing was beneath them. So he knew that come by this way.

The wind changed directions and brought the sound of boots with it. Coolly Marc uttered a chameleon spell. Such spells had been lost in the dissolution of the Mage's Guild, but his organization had rediscovered them and used them frequently. Unlike typical invisibility spells they didn't end when he lost concentration, but they didn't make him completely invisible either.

With a well practiced motion he drew his bow and notched an arrow to the string. He could see the elves clearly now, 2 in light elvish armor and one in the robes of an officer. The two armored elves were noticeably drunk, their walk slightly unbalanced. Marc drew back the bowstring and lined up the arrow with the last man in line. Just as he was going to let go the sound of horses caught his attention. Two riders were coming down the the path at top speed. The man in front was in imperial armor and atop a white horse while the rider on the second horse was a woman in steel. Marc cursed his luck and relaxed the bowstring. He would have to wait until the riders passed.

The three Thalmor moved to the side of the road to avoid being trampled by the incoming horseman. He cursed a second time when he recognized the lead rider as the Dragonborn. He seemed to always be two steps behind the fast moving nord. By the time the riders were gone the elves were nearly past and the spell was waning. Quickly he aimed and released his first arrow into the rear elf. Without a cry the dead elf slumped to the ground with an arrow through his head. The sound of armor hitting the ground caused the other two elves to turn to see what was the matter. The second elf had no chance to react as another arrow streaked through the air and sprouted from his chest. The last elf, the officer sent a deadly lightning bolt spell at the now clearly visible nord. The shot was poorly aimed but managed to strike Marc in the left hand, numbing it. The elf summoned a bound sword and charged forward. With no time Marc dropped his bow and drew his sword to meet his foe's attack. Marc easily blocked the furious strikes, the elf obviously no great swordsman. the Thalmor realized his dilemma and tried to blast Marc with another bolt. Marc saw the attempt and began a frenzied counterattack, keeping the elf from focusing enough to summon any magic. Desperate, the elf brought his sword into a powerful downward arc, hoping to cleave Marc's sword and him in two.

The elf's reasoning was sound enough, a bound weapon could not be broken by ordinary means. But Marc's sword was not ordinary. It's steel had been forged to slay agents of the Aldmeri Dominion, and such a move had been planned for in its creation. When the elf's spectral blade came down, Marc's came up. The bound sword shattered against the enchanted metal, causing the elf to shout in pain as it was abruptly returned to Oblivion. Before the Thalmor could comprehend what had just happened Marc plunged his sword into the elf's gut.

"How…" The elf asked as he stared down in disbelief.

Marc only smiled grimly, then beheaded the unfortunate elf. With his last foe dead Marc looked up at the bloody scene. There was no time to hide the bodies. On a main road it was likely he would be seen. He couldn't go to any nearby cities or towns and search for information on the dragonborn. As soon as the Thalmor discovered their dead they would immediately begin questioning people there. The people might mention a strange hooded man entering the city around that time. He cursed once again and pulled out his pipe and smoked as he considered the problem. He trudged into the woods and were we had hidden his horse. He had no idea where the dragonborn could be going, so he needed to send a courier to deliver the letter. As he swung into the saddle he considered his options. He needed to go somewhere where the Thalmor wouldn't look for him but a place that would have a courier present. Morthal? No. Doubtful that any couriers would be there. Whiterun. Maybe. But a predictable move. Markarth? At first he dismissed the possibility. The Thalmor had a strong presence there ever since the infamous 'Markarth Incident.' It would be stupid to go right into the teeth of the saber-cat. Or would it? He thought about it some more. They wouldn't expect him to go there, and a courier would most likely be there, and he could hide almost anywhere in once dwemer city. The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea. His mind made up, he turned his horse westward, towards the wilds of the Reach.


Camenon leisurely made his way to the Blue Palace. He was never in a hurry to get anywhere. Once he made it he searched for the person he was to meet. Not seeing her, he asked a nearby guard.

"Do you know where I might find Sybille Stentor?"

"The court mage? If she's not in court then she's in her room." The guard gestured to a door nearby. After briefly thanking the guard Camenon walked straight up to the door and knocked. At first no one answered, after a second knock there was an angry reply.

"Who is it?"

"Camenon. We had an appointment." In truth, there was none, but it would allay suspicion.

"Come in."

He entered and closed the door behind him. The Breton mage had her back to him, focused on her work on her enchanting table.

"Of course you would be the one to interrupt in the middle of my work." She told him without looking back at him.

"Who else would it be? Now, did you find anything interesting for me?" The Breton gestured to an old looking scroll on her bed stand. Camenon walked over and opened it.

By order of the King. An organization is to be formed under the purpose to defend Skyrim and her people from all threats. The organization is to be the 'Sons of Atmora'. So shall it be from now and henceforth.

King Harald

"Interesting, did you find anything else?" Sybille looked up from her work, her yellow-orange eyes visible with her hood thrown back.

"That's the strange part. It found that piece a week ago in the archives. Curious, I spent the next days looking for more. Oddly, there is nothing else in the archives. I contacted a few people about it and they've never heard anything about. Aside from this paper, the group mentioned does not exist."

Camenon's interest was piqued at this tidbit.

"For a thousand years there is no evidence of the Sons of Atmora? That leaves really two possibilities. One, that they were never really formed, or…"

"...They're really good at hiding."


A/N: I'm back with another chapter for you! Hope you've enjoyed the journey so far, because it's far from over. Questions? Concerns? Things you want to tell your mother but are afraid to? Drop me a line and let me know what you think.


Vokun Muz: Shadow Men

Sybille Stentor: Court mage of Solitude. Secretly a vampire.

Dreamer: Khajiit seer

Praetor: Leader of a shadowy organization