Chapter 9: The Mustering

At the ancient nord burial crypt of Bleak Falls Barrow, an army camped inside its walls. This army was of a mixture of races, from the powerful dragons, the recently discovered centaurs, to the human legionaries Imperius had brought from the hold of Dawnstar. It numbered in the tens of thousands. An endless sea of tents occupied much of the space withing the sanctum of the ruins. The rubble was cleared away to make room for living ammnities for the members of the army. Smithies, cooking tents, supply tents and many more filled the newly acquired space. In the inner sanctum of the ruins, the leaders convened with their commander, raising an important issue.

"We will not be able to maintain our numbers while in our current situation. There are too many to house for this ruin. I suggest we find a more suitable place to make our base of operations, and the hold of Falkreath is the most sound option," said Nahagliiv, who returned from his task empty handed. There was no dragon at the word wall, only draugr guarding the ancient text. Perhaps Alduin had not reached the nearby dragon burial site in time before his capture. The dragon had no way to be sure, but he suspected that was the case.

Krilkahjot and Mirmulnir nodded, while Valian and the centurion Galba looked undecided.

"This is near the trade center Whiterun. If we plan on conquering the entirety of Tamriel, we must gain a income to support our ventures, not to mention the strategic value of Whiterun. If we were to conquer it, we would have a base of operations and a staging point for all our future campaigns. It is vital to secure it, and I say that we make for the neutral hold as soon as possible before it can ally itself with either side," Valian retorted.

The council argued, with one side wanting to besiege the Falkreath hold, while the other wanted to capture Whiterun before it was too late. Any solutions either side put forth were almost immediately shot down by the other, resulting in more arguing and debate.

'We will not be able to sustain your army just with the food runs you make to Whiterun Dovahkiin, we must relocate or start our conquest early if we are to succeed,' Akatosh said.

He had mainly been quiet while Imperius put everything into motion, for he saw no reason why he should interfere until now. The imperial had been doing his assigned task with distinction. However, with this recent problem that has arisen, he was beginning to wonder how he would successfully deal with this situation. In Akatosh's mind, this was the Imperial's true first test of leadership and strategic thinking, and would be a precedent for future actions.

'I think we should move too, but I'm not sure as to which hold I want to capture first. Both holds hold some strategic value. However, the Falkreath hold has something that will improve our chances in our quest,' Imperius thought.

During his adventures in his past life, he had come upon an old fortress, with the usual crumbling stone walls and destroyed sentry towers. It was filled to the brim with bandits, about a hundred if he counted the corpses right. He enlisted the guards at Falkreath to help him clear the thugs out. To him at the time, it was an annoyance that the fortress was so big, the courtyard so large it could fit three dragons. It had a working forge with the necessary ores and metals to make suits of armor and sharp blades, and the forest around it was filled with plentiful wildlife, more than enough to feed any army that were to capture it. Fortunately, it wasn't far from the Falkreath hold, and would be an excellent staging area for the Falkreath campaign

'Those ruins of a fortress will serve our needs well, it is a suitable place for our headquarters, well done,' the divine commented.

Imperius nodded, and made his way to the meeting, which was already getting a little heated.

Valian noticed his return from his ponderings and quieted the council down until all eyes rested on him.

"What is your decision Thuri, do we make for Falkreath or Whiterun?" Mirmulnir asked.

"We cannot stay here. Our food stores are running low and our funds will soon dry up if we don't have a source of income, so I propose we make for the ruins of Lagash Citadel, or now known as Cracked Tooth Fortress. There we will renovate it until it become a suitable place to house our army, then we will plan our next move from there," he said.

"Isn't that place packed full of bandits sir? We would have to organize a siege if they decide not to surrender, and that could leave us open to ambush by either side," Galba said, hearing the reports of imperial patrols from the area before defecting to Imperius' side.

Imperius chuckled a little, and placed a hand on Galba's shoulder.

"Ah, you worry too much my friend. We won't have to siege it if they meet us in open battle. Trust me, they will not be a problem."

Valian spoke next, a little miffed he wasn't addressed in the decision making.

"So we are abandoning our foothold in the Whiterun hold in exchange for Falkreath? What strategic value does this citadel you speak of have?"

Imperius walked over to the centaur and explained that the Falkreath hold will be easier to take instead of Whiterun, for Falkreath had no walls unlike Whiterun. He also told Valian that the Falkreath Hold would also be easier to defend, as it was a natural defensive position, making it harder for invading forces to actually attack their forces. It would also cut off a route of resupply to the Imperials, as Falkreath was the hold in which Imperial reinforcements and supply came through. Cut off the supplies and manpower, and the Imperial Legion will slowly be starved into submission. Whiterun was out in the open, and if they were to take Whiterun, they would be surrounded by enemies from all sides with no breathing room. They would be vulnerable.

Valian saw his reasoning, and accepted his plan, albeit after some thought. He still thought that making for Whiterun was a good idea. But his commander thought of a better one, and who was he to disobey his commander. Even if he was a bit controlling at times.

Then the being made his voice known, he was so quiet that almost everyone forgot about him.

"What becomes of me, now that you plan for conquest?"

Imperius shook his head smiling.

"You, my metallic friend, have one of the most important roles of all. You will help us renovate any ruins of fortresses and towns we come across, as well as aid us in sieges. We will need a strong ally in this fight, and I believe you will play an important role in the coming months," Imperius said.

The being pondered this, then nodded, seeming to accept this position that was given to him.

"Any more objections or issues that need to be addressed? No? Then lets head out, hopefully with no other complications."

The council dispersed, with the leaders of their respective races calling for their kin to make ready to travel, leaving Imperius alone with Valian and Mirmulnir. The centaur had subtly made it known to Imperius that he needed to speak with him after the meeting.

"How are we going to leave this place without attracting any attention from Riverwood? They will surely see us. Not to mention your prisoner hasn't been found by any of our men. Are you sure she is still alive?" said Valian. If their mission was to get to the citadel without being seen, then he couldn't figure out how they would transport the entire army without the town noticing. Not to mention the spies the local Jarls may have in the local populations to search for potential usurpers.

Imperius shrugged his shoulders. Truth be told, he wasn't about to hide the army from the populace, he saw no need to do so. But if it was a concern, he will think of a solution. The justicar on the other hand, he would need her. He would search for her while the army was breaking down camp and preparing to march. If he didn't find her before then, he would have to leave her.

"We will deal with it when it comes. But for now focus on gathering the resources to help renovate the fortress, it will take a lot to get it into working order."

Valian saluted and galloped off to his group, gathering ingots and ores, blacksmithing materials and old weapons they could melt down into new ones. Imperius surveyed the legionaires taking down their tents and packing their belongings for the march. He made his way through the barrow, weaving past the numerous legionaires and centaurs moving into formation, and made his way deeper into the barrow, dozens upon dozens of Drauger corpses lined the pathway and catacombs. In the main room where the word wall resided, he found her asleep, with the bag of food and the waterskin a short distance away. Nearby was the body of a Drauger dreadlord, its body cut in twain, its eyes a dull blue.

As he made his way over to her, he checked to see if she was asleep or not and poked her a couple of times. She was out cold, exhaustion covering her like a blanket. He was impressed by her skill. Taking down a dreadlord was no easy feat. While Imperius had decades of skill behind him in dealing with such undead that made it look easy, to the average soldier or adventurer, it was usually a death sentence if you encountered a dreadlord. Imperius gathered the bag of food and the waterskin, and put the unconcious justicar over his shoulder like he did when he captured her and put her and her possessions with a nearby supply wagon. The nearby legionaires looked at the extra cargo, but said nothing. It was better to not question it, for it would only lead to more questions. He made his way out of the barrow, called Mirmulnir down and climbed aboard his neck. Mirmulnir, carrying his rider, made his way to the front of the marching column, settling next to Valian and Galba whom were awaiting his arrival.

"We await your orders sir," Valian said.

Imperius nodded and a deep note from a war horn filled the air.

The sound of marching feet, clopping hooves, and the flap of leather wings quickly replaced the horn. The noise could be heard by the denizens of Riverwood, the sound of thousands of marching feet alarmed them. So much so that they sent a runner to Whiterun, asking for military aid in any form. But in the meantime, they would have to defend themselves from these invaders and formed a militia of sorts. At the base of the mountain that led to the nordic ruin, the vanguard of Imperius's army was arguing with the militia that were blocking their path. Mirmulnir landed near the group, Imperius sliding off of his neck, the presence of the drake frightening the villagers and causing them to become panicked.

"You are all slaves to this wicked lizard, you are thralls that have come to kill us all!" shouted one adventurer, adorned in a mish-mash of mail and leather armor, wielding a two handed iron great sword.

Imperius began to chuckle, then he laughed aloud in such a way that the villagers questioned if he was of a sane mind or not. He couldn't say whether he was or not, but that was irrelevant. Of all the things that the ignorant adventurer could say, he thought they were under the dragon's control. The villagers even saw that he rode the dragon down here. How they got that they were slaves to the drakes, he had no idea. This man's ignorance nearly made his day.

"Us, slaves to the dragons?! My boy, you are an ignorant one. The dragon, and all of these fine men serve me and me alone. Now step aside so that we may pass in peace, before things become ugly," he said.

The adventurer growled, then shouted a war cry as he charged at Imperius, great sword raised. Imperius scoffed at this sad attempt on his life, pulled out his gladius and blocked the overhead swing of the adventurer. The adventurer is shocked by the ease in which his attack was blocked, and growled, swinging sloppily in anger, with Imperius sidestepping the wild blows with ease. Imperius was humoring the adventurer by allowing this "fight" to continue. If he wanted to, he could kill this adventurer with relative ease. His form was sloppy, and his attacks had too much force behind them, offsetting his balance.

The vanguard watched on in amusement, wondering where the young warrior, if he could even be called that anymore with his poor skills, got the idea that he could defeat their leader in melee combat.

As the fight dragged on with the adventurer's strikes hitting air and dirt, Imperius was beginning to tire of this game. He was slowly starting to not see the point of this charade any longer, and he was already pushing it. He blocked the adventurer's next attack with his gladius and rushed under his guard. Imperius swiftly struck the adventurer's chest with his sword's handle, knocking the wind out of the nord, and rent his sword arm from his body, watching the limb fall to the ground still clutching the great sword. The adventurer yelled in pain, but his cry was silenced when Imperius cut the man's throat. The adventurer fell to the floor, instilling fear into the villagers, who turned their gaze to Imperius, who was wiping the adventurer's blood off of his blade onto the adventurer's clothes.

A single man, frightened beyond belief by what was happening, suddenly screamed to let the army pass and sprinted away into the nearby woods, abandoning his shield and war axe on the ground.

"You should follow your friend's example, let us pass through and none of you will be harmed, and your town left in peace."

Just then, a trumpeting sound signaled the arrival of the Jarl's forces, around fifty men loyal to the Jarl's pay. Emboldened by the Jarl's forces, the villagers raised their weapons and made a great noise, shouting and screaming that they would rather die than back down. Imperius subtly scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face, and sighed in relief when he didn't find it. The blacksmith was not a part of this mob, Imperius was grateful for that. Alvor and his family had fled at the sound of his approaching army, nothing was left that they could carry. The Whiterun mercenaries soon joined forces with the townspeople, numbering around three hundred, while the vanguard's numbers reached over five hundred.

Imperius sighed, turned to his vanguard, and shouted, " Legionarius, scutum murum! Equites, vicumque capite, circa signum expectare!"

The legionaries tightened their formation, their curved tower shields making an impenetrable wall of wood and steel. The centaurs nodded and galloped to the sides of the village, just out of sight of the militia. Their job was to make sure that no villager escaped from the battle, and capture any that split off from the group.

The mob charged, waving their weapons in the air, glory and songs sung in their name filled their heads. They crashed into the shield wall, hacking away with their assortment of axes and swords. The imperials stayed behind their shields, knocking out any militia member close enough. The militia started to give ground, slowly being driven back as most of their members were incapacitated or captured. The villager's confidence at the start of the battle was slowly wearing away. They were only fighting with the hope that the guards from Whiterun would somehow turn the tide. But they were beginning to realize that the guards made no difference at all.

Finally, one cry from a villager that said to fall back broke the lines of the militia. They rushed back to the town, looking back and wondering why the legionaries weren't chasing them until they heard a bass horn blow, its note loud and long. Then they heard the pounding of hooves on stone and saw a force of centaurs rushing towards them. The townspeople rushed away from the centaur onslaught, only to be met with the shield wall of legionaries, who manage to capture all the militia members without losses. They're bound and led to the town center, where Imperius, Valian, and Mirmulnir stood waiting.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Kill us already and be done with it!" a villager said.

Imperius looked at the villager with a perplexed look on his face.

"Why would I do that? It would serve no purpose other than to sate a bloodlust, which I do not have," he said.

The villagers looked at each other with stunned faces, then turned back to Imperius.

"Well, that's what Ulfric would have done, and you seem to have similar goals so we assumed you would have the same mindset," the villager spoke.

Hearing the name of the man he so despised raised his ire for a bit, his face twisting into one of anger and rage, concerning Mirmulnir and Valian, but he managed to get his temper in check, schooling his facial features into cold indifference. He could be angry at the usurper later, when he was alone. But for him to lose his cool now would do him no favors with the villagers. It would also ruin whatever relationship he has built with his subordinates, showing them that he couldn't control himself when emotions came into play. He kept his calm, but his voice belied his cool demeanor.

"Well, lucky for you, I am nothing like that spoiled brat of a Jarl. If you join me, I will ensure that Ulfric will never terrorize your people again. You will be safe and prosperous, if you join me," Imperius said.

They began to discuss amongst themselves, while Mirmulnir stood next to him.

"You're sure that the joor will accept? They seemed rebellious from the beginning and I doubt they will accept your rule over their former master's," he said. He was keenly aware of how easily mortals would become rebellious. He didn't rule over mortals for thousands of years without knowing the skills of the trade. He was convinced that they would either resist them here and now, or rebel later on. He didn't want to waste what little resources they had on garrisoning a village and crushing whatever rebellion came out of the wood work.

Imperius nodded.

"They will accept. Jarl Balgruff may say he protects his people, but all he cares about is the tax revenue, he won't protect his people if they don't pay the tax. Lately they haven't been paying, and recently Ulfric's forces raided this village, took the young boys to be trained as their soldiers. They would accept the offer from a poor beggar if he had enough men to seem like he could protect them. Trust me," he said.

It was tragic that in this timeline, the Jarl of Whiterun that he knew before was different, in every single way possible. In his timeline, Balgruff was a compassionate man, quick thinking and skilled in politics. He ensured that his people would not retire to sleep with empty bellies, and made safe the roads towards the hold of bandits and raiders. This Balgruff however, was a cruel, greedy man, more akin to stormcloaks in style and leadership. Taxes were high, and many a citizen would hunch over from hunger pangs. The guards and high nobles ate well enough, but even they were struggling to fill the black hole that was Balgruff's greed. It was a sad sight, and it made him flinch in abhorrence whenever he had to interact with the Jarl.

He turned to the villagers as they were reaching a consensus. One man stepped from the group, walking towards Imperius. He was stopped a few feet away by two legionaires, and settled on speaking to the leader of this army from a distance. Imperius studied the man. He was of an older age. His beard was half silver, half dark brown. He assumed that this was the village elder from how he carried himself. He would be the voice of the villagers.

"We... we accept your proposal, as long as you make good on your word that Ulfric will not bother us again," the village elder said.

Imperius nodded and agreed to the deal.

The vanguard got into formation and began to march again, the main force having caught up with them whilst they were fighting. The army marched for hours until they were in sight of the fortress, the moss covered walls greeting them. Atop the walls were sentries. Orc sentries, who sounded the alarm to the rest of the forces inside.

"Orcs? They weren't here last time. This doesn't bode well," Imperius murmured to himself.

When he cleared the fort, it had only been simple bandits, easy enough to kill. But these were orcs, a warrior people. The last time he fought orcs was when he was clearing an orc stronghold for a local official, it took him five hours with twenty mercenaries to kill thirty orc warriors armed to the teeth. Only he came back. The army arrived outside the fortress, the legionaries in the center, the dragons overhead, and the centaur cavalry on the wings. They waited for something to happen, practically baking under the heat of the sun. Then, something did. The gates of the ancient citadel opened, from the opening poured hundreds of warriors, armed with war hammers, axes, swords, pikes, hundreds of archers lining the walls. The orc forces formed a single line parallel to their formation, with the majority of their army being made up of mainly warriors, with a single line of archers behind the warriors.

The banner of the orc clan was raised as the orcs lined up for battle, a mammoth sigil flapping in the wind. The two forces stood across a field outside the walls, silent as the icy north. From the orc army a rider came forth, bearing the banner of his clan. Imperius, atop Mirmulnir, and Valian rode out to meet him and see what he wants. Imperius figured that this wouldn't be an offer for peace or anything related to diplomacy. Orcs were mainly a warrior people, preferring action over words. But when they spoke, their words were often heeded by many who would assault their fortresses.

"You are trespassing on orc grounds, state your business and be on your way," he spoke, his voice laced with anger.

"I am Imperius, and I have come to claim what is mine," he said.

The orc atop his mount laughed. This imperial was claiming that the citadel was his. Classic arrogance from imperials. They thought that practically everything was theirs for the taking. Well, he was about to get the shock of his life. Although he was wary of the dragon the imperal was riding, but he was sure of his people's ferocity in combat that he disregarded it altogether.

"What is yours? We have taken this fort by right of conquest, now leave before we kill you and your army," he threatened. He sincerely hoped that the imperial was stupid enough to continue his endeavor. His clan would show this pompous imperial that orc clans were not to be trifled with.

Imperius scoffed at his threat, turned around and flew back to his army, Valian in tow. The orc grunted and rode back to his army, with both sides readying themselves for battle.

The two sides waited for the other to make the first move, neither moving an inch. Suddenly, an orc roared and charged forth, the rest of his kin following. The centurions blew their whistles and the legionaries tightened their formation, not willing to let anything pass their shield wall. An orc hurled himself at the wall, flying over the first rank and hitting the ground, only to be met with gladii being thrust into his stomach. The orcs crashed against the legionaries, war hammers denting and breaking the imperial shields, crushing breastplates and helmets, and snapping gladii in twain. The legionaries fought with equal vigor, stabbing and cutting off arms and legs where they could, gutting numerous orcs as they raised their weapons overhead to strike, never breaking their formation. A horn was blown and the centaurs on the wings surged forth, killing any stragglers of the orc formation and forming a line behind the orcs. They charged and smashed into the rear of the orismir, cutting down hundreds before they lost their momentum. Some of the centaurs were cut down, killed by spears and pikes when they charged, but the overall strength of the centaur force was undamaged.

Arrows rained down on the legionaries and centaurs, killing dozens and wounding many more. The archers were efficient in their work, most of their arrows hitting their targets. Then, Imperius, riding Mirmulnir, led the dragons to attack the fortress, streams of flame doused the orc archers, turning them all to ash. From the center of the imperial formation, a group of legionaries led by the Guardian spearheaded the main orc line, the godlike being smashing through the orcs like a knife through paper. With the aid of the large being, the legionaries began to attack with renewed fervor, cutting down numerous orcs and pushing their line back. The orcs fought with a battle prowess unmatched, killing five imperials for every orismir they lost. However, despite their ferocity in combat, the Guardian negated their prowess, swinging his platinum colored fists left and right, crushing shields and smashing through the toughest orc breastplates.

Without the aid of their archers thinning the ranks of their enemies, the army soon began to rout, realizing that they wouldn't last long against the imperials aided by the metal giant. Dozens of orcs sprinted back to the fort, weaving through the centaurs at their rear, where they were met with dragon fire washing over them, leaving burnt skeletons around the citadel. Imperius's army cut down the remaining orcs, losing dozens of their own to the savage bloodlust that consumed the orcs, and surged into the citadel, killing the remaining defenders with ease.

"We... we won!" said Valian, covered in orc blood. He had honestly thought that they would lose against the orcs after the initial charge, and the subsequent volley of arrows that rained down on his cavalry. When he saw arrows killing many of his brethren, and orcs carrying pikes spearing his men, he thought that all was lost. However, his confidence was restored when he saw Imperius riding Mirmulnir in an attack on the orc stronghold, torching the archers and killing the retreating orcs.

"We won, but it will take a long time to replace the soldiers we lost here today," Imperius said, already seeing the troops removing the bodies of the enemy and ally. He disliked loosing soldiers, especially invaluable soldiers like his legionaires and Valian's centaurs. They were nigh irreplaceable, and every soldier lost was a significant decrease in his legion's effectiveness.

The Guardian was helping repair the decrepid fortress walls, rebuilding the towers, ramparts and battlements with ease, his way with the earth helping the construction crews renovate the fortress. He wasn't even ordered to do so. He simply saw the decrepit defenses and subconsciously began to rebuild them. Imperius, noticing this, knew he had made the right decision in including him in his legion.

'We have a staging ground as well as a home base for the legion. Now I hope that we can keep it.'