*BREEZEHOME*
WHITERUN
SKYRIM
"I need to head north," wheezed Llwellyn Dragonborn, beads of cold sweat on his brow. "…To Solitude. Tullius and the Legion will be mobilizing. They'll need…"
"Nothing from you," Lydia remarked, shoving the wounded man back down on the cushions. "You've just been to the Summit of Apocrypha, battling with Miraak and Hermaeus Mora."
"Sky Haven Temple…" Llewellyn insisted stubbornly, "and the Blades…"
Sarai Gellarus lent a hand to restrain the warrior.
"I know, I know," she soothed. "I've received word only just the morning: Vorstag made it past the Forsworn patrols. Delphine says that besides maintaining guards at Karthspire, the Forsworn have not disturbed them, or attempted to interfere with their coming and going."
"The children…"
"I sent Iona to collect them and bring them here. Jordis will come with them. They're safe, and it will do both you and them good to see you."
Llewellyn leaned back with an exhausted sigh, seemingly admitting defeat. Sarai looked over at the Dragonborn's housecarl.
"Lydia… I must speak with your lord… alone."
The dark-haired woman nodded.
"I'll go see if I can disperse that rabble gathering at the front door," she replied, and turned, closing the door to the bedroom behind her. As soon as the latch clicked, Sarai put her head in her hands, rubbing her face furiously.
"How did we not see this coming, Lewis?" Sarah Geller of Los Angeles, California asked in an exhausted voice.
"Because it wasn't in the games, Sarah," Lewis Heron of Dallas, Texas answered. "I drank every memory potion I had with me on Solstheim: There was no mention of a 'Tala Niwot' or the Fall of Markarth in any of my play-throughs, and especially not in the Wolfskull Cave mission. Stupid, stupid of me not to realize it!"
"Well," Sarah said, "In your defense, you were pretty preoccupied with the whole 'First Dragonborn' thing, and dodging cultists' knives every other day."
Lewis shook his head, seemingly unmollified.
"Even if you free Madanach in the game, nothing really changes with the Forsworn. All that happens is that he gives you a set of armor."
"And the king in Rags is dead," Sarah shrugged.
"Yes," Lewis admitted, hanging his head. "And it's all my fault."
"No," Sarah insisted. "You were young. You had been in Skyrim nearly 10 years. That's time enough for anyone to have forgotten their old life. You were acting as any member of the Thieves' Guild might have."
Lewis opened his mouth to answer, but another fit of coughing wracked his battered frame. Sarah put a hand behind his head, letting him down gently back against the pillow, casting another healing spell with her other hand. The damage was not so much to the outward body, though there were more broken ribs than otherwise, and the blow from Miraak's sword had nearly shattered every bone in the left arm. The real damage was harder to see: the torment of the body as a result of multiple passages through the Black Books of Apocrypha. The healing spells would speed the process only a little, but at least they served to sooth the pain. Lewis smiled thinly at the woman holding him.
"Do you remember when we first met?"
"I do," Sarah nodded. "I was star-struck by the famous Dragonborn."
"And then you took me aside and asked… asked…"
"Arena, Daggerfall, Morrowind, Oblivion... what comes next?" remembered Sarah, with another amused smile.
"I could scarcely believe it. Probably still wouldn't, if it wasn't for those memory potions of yours."
Then the smile grew grim again as the Dragonborn focused back on the here and now.
"I've sent word to Brynjolf to get in touch with Endon… if he's still alive," he said. "If he is, that at least gives us eyes and ears in Markarth."
Sarah nodded, but her expression remained worried.
"Lewis… if this is another One… we have to assume she knows that he is with the Guild."
Lewis' eyes grew wide as the full ramifications of the Arch-Mage's statement hit him.
"Sweet Nocturnal, then she knows… the Shrine of Molag Bol… if she's still new, she could…she might…"
"She might still be thinking of all this as a game, yes. If Calcelmo is right, she already has vampires and werewolves with her Forsworn army. She might already be in league with Hakon, for all we know."
"Pursuing the Vampire Lord questline."
"Exactly," nodded Sarah. "We have to know. That's why I'm headed there."
New levels of worry crossed the wounded man's face.
"NO! You might… you…"
"I am the Arch-Mage of Winterhold," Sarai Gellarus assuaged. "Queen Tala has sent messengers to each of the holds. Technically, I'm the emissary from Jarl Kraldar."
"But if she IS another One… she'll know that you don't belong…"
"Either way, it is a conversation that must take place. I have to warn her of the consequences of her actions. It might not be too late."
Llewellyn Dragonborn strained again, trying to sit up.
"I… I… can't…"
"Shhh…" soothed the mage. "Rest you here, Dragonborn. Recover your strength."
She cast a spell, with both of her hands now, and the Dragonborn was struck with waves of weariness, sinking back on the pillows, but not before giving an unamused glare at the mage.
"Oh… that's…. not… fair..."
Sarah smiled, then bent down and tenderly kissed the sleeping face.
"Rest now… my love."
Softly, she turned and went down the stairs, where Lydia was sitting, along with a fully-armored Dunmer woman. They both stood to their feet as the mage entered the room.
"Irileth?" Sarai asked with a distinct air of curiosity.
"Arch-Mage," the housecarl of Whiterun greeted, with a respectful half-bow, "the Jarl humbly requests your presence at Dragonsreach."
Sarai nodded.
"By all means," she replied, gesturing to the door. "Though I fear we may have to fight our way through a crowd."
"Not anymore, ma'am," Lydia answered, "Farkas, Vilkas, and a few of the other Companions arrived and made it clear that their Harbinger needed his rest."
"I've no doubt that sent even the bravest of them scampering in fear," the Arch-Mage chuckled, along with the other two women. "Lead on then, Irileth."
Jarl Balgruuf turned as the two women came up the stairs to the upper level of Dragonsreach.
"Ah," he said, nodding to his housecarl, and to the Arch-Mage. "How is he?"
"Still weak," Sarai answered, not needing any clarification. "He needs time to rest and recuperate."
"He shall have both here in Whiterun," Balgruuf replied. "Irileth, what news from the patrols?"
"The Horme bandit camps are empty."
"Empty?"
"Yes, my lord. Our patrols noticed smoke arising from the following locations."
The Dunmer woman set up small miniature tents on the map to mark the bandit camp locations.
"Halted Stream, Broken Fang, Redoran's Retreat: They have been set on fire, and abandoned. All tracks lead west, towards the Reach. We have spotted several convoys crossing the plain. Daedra worshippers, cultists, and yes, the odd vampire or werewolf."
"Farewell and bad cest to the Horme," Legate Quentin Cipius scoffed. "Delusional followers of the long-dead Septim bloodline."
The Arch-Mage started, as if suddenly remembering something. The legionnaire continued, pointing to the small fort icons on the map:
"Now that we have the Western Watchtower repaired and Fort Greymoor fully manned, we will at least have advanced warning of any enemy approach."
Balgruuf brooded over the news, then turned to the man on the other end of the table.
"Commander Caius, what is the full strength of Whiterun Hold?"
The commander of the Whiterun guard cleared his throat, but moved to stand beside his jarl, pointing to the areas in question.
"Nearly fifty of my best men were reassigned from Riverwood to Rorikstead, leaving only about a dozen men behind," he said, shifting three icons from south of Whiterun to the west. "Here in the city, we have 300 mounted cavalry, and more than twice that on foot, if we include the legionnaires under Legate Cipius."
The Legate suddenly looked very uncomfortable.
"We will defend the city, of course," he answered. "But I will need written authorization from General Tullius before I can commit imperial troops to an invasion of Markarth."
"Even so, it could be done," Caius insisted. "Our warriors are ready, and they are all veterans of the Stormcloak campaign. Those Forsworn bastards don't stand a chance against us in a straight-up fight."
"They won't need to stand against us, captain," Irileth insisted, putting a black flag over another icon to the west. "Fort Sungard is fallen, and even if we were able to retake that place quickly (which would be a bloody miracle), we'd be harassed from every cave, glen, and valley before we even got within sight of the City of Stone. We'd lose half of our men, and be outnumbered and surrounded in the middle of Reach territory. We'd lose most of the other half trying to fight our way out of that troll's den."
The military men squinted and stared at the map in front of them, but no one contradicted or argued with the sound military logic presented by the jarl's housecarl. Proventus Avenicci, the steward of Whiterun, cleared his throat nervously.
"I know this will generate debate," the Imperial began, glancing around the room of mostly Nords, "but the fact remains that we don't have the numbers to invade directly. Not without a general mobilization from Solitude. And with Tullius' new expedition to put down Laila Law-Giver in Riften, there are few enough legionnaires to spare."
More nods went around the room.
"What do you propose then, Proventus?" Balgruuf asked.
Sarai smiled. This was why she like the Jarl of Whiterun so much: he wasn't afraid to ask for other people's opinions, and if they disagreed with his own, he would always give a fair ear to what they had to say.
"Stalling for time," the steward was answering. "This 'Queen Tala' is alone and friendless. She has the richest hold in Skyrim under her control, but no markets to which to sell the gold and silver from her mines."
"Are you suggesting we open trade with her?" Irileth asked incredulously.
"Why not? Time is on our side, and until the Legion is mobilized to move against her, we can do our part to ensure that Foresworn raiding parties do not come against Rorikstead, or Whiterun itself."
That rang true, even in the ears of the seasoned military commanders. They all knew first-hand the horrors of midnight alarms raised, and of sentries' throats found cut from ear to ear, come morning's first light.
"I would not wish to leave Rorik and Jouane alone or defenseless," admitted Balgruuf uneasily.
"Well, yes, prudence alone would dictate an increase in the garrison there," Proventus continued, nodding to the Whiterun Hold commander, "but why not ensure their safety permanently by sending emissaries to Markarth? At the very least, it will be a market for our grain, and Forsworn gold is just as good as Imperial gold."
"It feels… two-faced somehow," Balgruuf replied, still unsure.
"It is not an alliance, my lord," Proventus clarified, "Merely agreeing not to attack one another… which we are no position to do, anyway. When the time comes, we will send her the Axe, and there will be war enough to go around."
There was a moment of silence, then Sarai came to the steward's aid:
"My lord," she said, putting her trained singer's soothing baritone voice to work, "I am already bound on an errand to Queen Tala for Jarl Kraldar of Winterhold. I would be honored to bear your words to the City of Stone at the same time."
Balgruuf looked over and gave the Arch-Mage one of his rare smiles.
"My thanks, Lady Sarai, but with all due respect, you cannot speak for Whiterun Hold. I'm sure that the Queen will have plenty to ask, and much to demand in return. Irileth, send for Hrongar."
"Do you think that's… wise, my lord?" Proventus asked in a low voice as the housecarl turned to summon the Thane.
"Sending my brother will show that I am serious in my offer," insisted Balgruuf. "And Hrongar has a good head on his shoulders. I know he'll act in Whiterun's best interests."
"Yes… my lord," the steward acknowledged, as the jarl's younger brother emerged.
"You sent for me, my jarl?" the Nord warrior asked.
"You will accompany the Arch-Mage and her party to Markarth," Balgruuf answered.
Hrongar glanced at Sarai, then back to Balgruuf.
"Of course, but may I ask: for what purpose, brother?"
Balgruuf lifted a hand, motioning his thane and brother closer.
"Come. brother," he said softly, putting an arm over his shoulder and leading him into the Jarl's private chambers. "We have much to discuss."
As the party dispersed, Irileth made her way beside the still contemplative Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold.
"When do you intend to leave, Arch-Mage?" she asked gently. "Thane Hrongar will need an escort worthy of his title and rank."
"I intended to leave this afternoon," Sarai answered, "but I suppose tomorrow at first light would do just as well. And it will save us from having to camp on the road."
Irileth nodded.
"Yes. You should spend the night in Rorikstead, and then push on for Markarth the next day. I will have horses for both our men and yours."
"No need, Irileth," protested Sarai. "There is only J'zargo, Brelyna, and Onmund with me, and our cart will bear all of us quite well enough."
Irileth tried very hard to hide her opinion of traveling in a cart from her face, and failed miserably.
"Very well," she managed, and then the housecarl turned and left the room to make the necessary preparations. Sarai turned and stared long and hard at the map, with the various pieces and flags covering the province.
Who are you, Tala Niwot?
And what do you want here?
"Tala, by the gift of the gods that be, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, Queen of the Reach, Lady of the Forsworn, Keeper of the Mournful Throne, and High Mother of the Vodahmin, to Servetus Tullius (Son of Publius Tarquinius), Commander of the Imperial Legions in the Imperial Province of Skyrim, Imperator of the 9th and 12th Legions, greetings.
This letter comes by the hand of your faithful spy Margaret, who has outstayed her welcome in the City of Stone, and the legionnaires that survived the attacks upon Markarth and Fort Sungard. Legate Emmanuel Admand will bear witness that the wounded were afforded every comfort and treatment as became prisoners of war.
Regrettable as the losses sustained by the Legion have been, we do not wish for the state of war to continue to exist between our peoples. Your men have been entangled, through the poor counsel of others, in an internal struggle of the Reach. Now that the struggle has been resolved, there is no reason for the Empire to suffer any further casualties that we both know the Legion can ill-afford.
It is our dearest wish, general, that we be friends henceforth. Should prudence and wisdom triumph over hard-favored rage and the baser instincts of anger and vengeance, it would be our pleasure to host Imperial emissaries here at Markarth, or to send emissaries under the promise of safe-conduct to a location of your choosing.
A war is coming, General, against an enemy that would profit greatly by the expending of our strength and the shedding of one another's blood. If such is your wish, we can waste soldiers we cannot spare and time we do not have fighting one another, or we can unite and stand strong together when the hounds of war are let loose on our lands and people.
We await your word with our hands in friendship, should you act in your wisdom, or with our swords, if you choose the path of fools.
Tala Niwot,
Queen of Vodahmin"
*THE BLUE PALACE*
SOLITUDE
HJAAFINGAR
SKYRIM
"Well," Elisif marveled as Tullius set the rolled parchment down. "She certainly doesn't pull any political punches."
"It's an outright challenge," Bolgier Bear-claw bristled. "The bitch is daring us to come and take back Markarth."
"Not just Markarth, my friend," Falk Fire-beard sighed. "With Sungard fallen, 'the bitch', as you so eloquently put it, has control of nearly the entire Reach."
"What does this… Vodahmin mean?" Tullius asked.
"According to Sybille Stentor, my mage," Elisif answered, "It means, 'Forgotten' in ancient Thu'um."
"Gold, blood, and silver flow from Markarth," quoted Legate Rikke from her place at the table. "If it is to be war, we are up to the task: the new legionnaires need blooding, anyway."
"That's why most of them were sent to the Rift, to help the 9th hunt down Laila and her Stormcloak hold-outs," Captain Aldis shook his head. "The ones that remain? They're nowhere near ready. Sopping milk-drinkers, the lot of them."
Margret cleared her throat, and all eyes turned to Tullius' intelligence agent.
"She says she wants no war with Skyrim," she said. "While I was awaiting her… judgement, she was sending messengers to each of the jarls, inviting them to send emissaries to her court. She says she only wants to ensure a home for the Forsworn and their kin."
"How did she even know that you were an Imperial agent?" Falk asked.
"Kleppr, no doubt," Legate Admand scoffed. "The damn weasel couldn't bow and scrape low enough to the bitch. Even renamed that damned inn of his, now that his Silver Blood patrons are no longer around."
"To what?" Falk wondered.
"The Red Diamond Inn, sir," Margret answered. "Why, I don't know exactly."
"Taking back the Reach won't be easy," Emmanuel Admand continued, gesturing to the arm that was held in a sling. "Her soldiers are well equipped, and well-disciplined."
"And you're positive that Thalmor soldiers were among their ranks?" Rikke asked.
"Exactly as I said in my report," Admand insisted. "There were definitely Altmer and Bosmer troops in her train. I have absolutely no doubt of that."
"Raerek and the rest of the survivors said the same," Elisif confirmed. "They're still here at the Blue Palace as my guests, if you wish to talk further with them."
Tullius grunted non-committedly.
"General Tullius," Rikke mused, "This could be the first strike of the Aldmeri Dominion."
"Not likely," Falk disagreed. "With this decree of religious freedom? Every ex-Stormcloak will be flocking towards the Reach for the chance to pray to Talos in peace. This 'Queen Tala' is perfectly positioned."
The Steward of Haafingar moved to the table, pointing out with a practiced campaigner's hand the various cities and provinces of Tamriel.
"She's within easy distance of Shornhelm, and the lawless northern clans of High-Rock. Most of the Forsworn can trace their lineage from that region, and still have kin there. Not to mention she can divert the gold and silver product from Markarth's mines to the city-state of Dragonstar, in Hammerfell. With Hammerfell still reeling after the Second Treaty of Stros M'kai, they are eager for allies and trading partners, and none too friendly with the Empire."
"Not after the White-Gold Concordat," nodded Rikke. "They still feel like the Emperor betrayed them."
"The treaty bought us time," Tullius insisted, albeit half-heartedly. "Time we needed to rebuild and regroup. But I'm still not certain that Hammerfell will want to alienate the Empire fully. If the Dominion attack again, they will need us 'ere the end."
"Well, one thing is certain," Aldis sighed, leaning back in his chair. "This will definitely set the Kingsmoot back."
"No," Falk insisted, "If anything, we must press for the Moot to meet sooner, rather than later. Now, more than ever, we need a High Queen to lead us, to answer this threat."
"Or High King," corrected Elisif modestly.
"Yes, of course," Falk admitted. "Or king."
Elisif smiled at her faithful and loyal steward.
"At the very least, we must have a united answer to this crisis," she agreed.
"Very well," Tullius relented. "We'll call the Kingsmoot to meet at… where do you think would be appropriate, Jarl Elisif? Here at Solitude?"
"No," Elisif corrected gently, "It must be in a neutral location, where none of the jarls will have the advantage. What about… High Hrothgar?"
"That might work," Falk Fire-beard acknowledged. "No matter what hold, the Greybeards are universally respected across Skyrim."
"Then we must send a messenger to Master Arngeir," Legate Rikke stated. "As the head of their order, he must give permission for the use of High Hrothgar."
"I will send messengers at once," Elisif said. "See to it, Fulk?"
"At once, my lady."
"Well, this is an absolute cluster…mess," Tullius corrected himself, casting an eye towards the Jarl of Solitude.
"I'm not a child, general," Elisif rolled her eyes. "I know a clusterfuck when I see it."
Tullius cleared his throat and sputtered an apology while Legate Rikke smiled in amusement.
"We should reach out to Siddgeir in Falkreath," Elisif continuing, sparing the general's feelings. She moved to the map and pointed out southern-most province of Skyrim. "Balgruuf's new cavalry troops will serve to guard his western lands, and he has an Imperial garrison at Whiterun. But Falkreath has no such strength, and no such garrison."
Tullius gave Elisif one of his rare smiles. The girl still had much to learn, but she had come far from the doe-eyed beauty that was given in marriage to Torygg in a carefully-calculated political marriage. The marriage had been as short as it had been unhappy (given Torygg's sexual preferences). But now Elisif was determined to rule in her own name, and not merely on the memory of her dead husband.
She's a fighter, he thought proudly. She'll do well as High Queen of Skyrim.
Then the moment passed, and his gaze drifted downwards to the black icon marking the location of Markarth.
Who are you, Tala Niwot?
And what do you want?
Author's Note:
What? Two chapters in two days?
Just wanted to give a special 'Thank-you' to you readers, who have been so awesome and supportive.
So, here's just a momentary look at what's going on around Skyrim, and the initial reactions to the Fall of Markarth. Additionally, we've also got another look at the other two OC/SI's into this world: The Dragonborn, and the Arch-Mage.
What do you guys think? Are there any other people/places you'd like to see? Let me know your thoughts/suggestions in the reviews!
Thanks!
-Tusken1602
Reviewer Responses:
Pietersielie – that will be a running question throughout this story: where does Tala Niwot end and Potema begin?
METALHELLSPWN – It will be awhile before the Dragonborn is up and about, or until the Legion can make any kind of military response. The real question is, should a military response be made at all?
JimmyHall24 – Khaleesi of Markarth, perhaps?
griezz, KingHoborg – That is the fate of all nations/movements: the first generation usually carries the ball, and the second generation drops it.
Malhavoc Shadowlord – The Daedra will certainly be tricky to deal with, but aren't they always? But now we have the Arch-Mage traveling to Markarth directly!
ranma hibiki – Lol, here's another chapter for you, then. Hopefully won't be too long before another one goes up. But I agree, the villain side of things can be more fun to read in stories (though harder to navigate without turning your OC into a murder-hobo).
talldrow – Thanks! I really appreciate the support!
ROCK ON, EVERYBODY!