Chapter 13: Preparations
11th of Second Seed
Rikke didn't think she would be one to cry so easily. Yet here she was, tears streaming down her face for the second time since that day. She wasn't even entirely sure what triggered her outburst, perhaps it was just Officer Vittorius mentioning his name. She had run into the West Barracks, hiding herself from her fellow legionnaires. She caught sight of her reflection in a glass; her pale face was red with emotion, and her golden hair had grown out so long since the beginning of the war.
She almost wanted to hit herself for being so weak, so pitiful, so helpless. She remembered how her father would always say that "Nord girls don't cry, that's reserved for Imperial girls." She remembered the princesses in those Breton fairy tales, the ones that always had to be saved by some dashing prince wielding the legendary sword and riding a white stallion. She always loved to talk about how different she was from those damsels, how she was a strong Nord woman, how she would be the one to save all the men from their imprisonment.
A small part of her wished she could be the hero in this story, but as she had realized, there are no heroes in war. Only the dead and the alive.
Rikke was startled by the sound of someone opening the tent flap. It was Galmar, with a neutral look on his face. He walked slowly towards Rikke.
"Galmar," she said, quickly wiping away her tears. "What do you want."
"Rikke," he said softly. His dark blond hair had grown so long that he had tied it into a ponytail at the end, and his piercing blue eyes stared straight into Rikke's. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine, Galmar, please don't worry about me. We all have more important things to think about."
Galmar placed his hand on her shoulder. "I don't know how to tell you this softly, but you have to let it go."
"What?! Let what go, Galmar?!" she exclaimed, knowing full well what he meant.
"Ulfric is dead! There's no point crying about it anymore, for the gods' sake!" Galmar shouted, unleashing his true emotions. He had noticed how despondent and apathetic Rikke had been for these past few days, and he was tired of seeing his old headstrong friend become so defeated. The elves hadn't even broken through the walls yet.
Rikke's eyebrows narrowed and she rose up, meeting Galmar's gaze. "Easy for you to say!" she said with rage. "You call yourself his friend, and you're forgetting him so fucking soon? You have no idea what he meant to me, none, you big fucking oaf!" she breathed hard, exhausting herself in her anger.
Galmar just stared at her for a few moments with such a cold stare that Rikke was almost afraid he would hit her. "You think I have no idea what he meant to you, do you? You truly think I'm as stupid as I look? I think I would notice if my two best friends were fucking each other behind my back!"
Rikke backed away slightly with a look of confusion. "You thought you were being so sneaky, hiding your 'relationship' from everyone else, including me?" Galmar continued. "We all fucking know, Rikke. I'm only trying to help you, I swear on the Nine Divines."
Rikke nodded, staring down at the ground in shame. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, I'm….I'm sorry I called you that."
Galmar sighed. "Don't worry about it. Look, I'm just as fucking depressed as you about Ulfric, but we have to move on. Remember what Shor says? How Time keeps moving on and we just have to go with it?"
Rikke continued to nod, listening intently to Galmar's speech.
"Ulfric was taken, that's happened, there's nothing we can do about that. We didn't see the body, right, only Legate Potema's was found? So he and Makes-Great-Shadows could still be alive, but we shouldn't count on it."
"We can't give up, Galmar!" she said.
"I know, I know, but we shouldn't get our hopes up, and we shouldn't be dwelling on this right now. You said it yourself, we all have more important things to think about. This damn city is about to fall apart, Rikke. We need all the help we can get."
Galmar paused and smiled at Rikke. She smiled back. "Thank you, Galmar," she responded, hugging him warmly.
"Of course. Now, you ready?"
The pain hadn't gone away entirely, but Rikke knew that she had to stop wallowing in her self-pity and take action. No more being passive and letting things happen to her friends. She had never been more ready.
"We're at the end now," Commander Quintus Tullius proclaimed with a tone of defeat. Emperor Titus simply looked at his cousin with a completely neutral face, unwilling to show weakness to the others around him.
Titus was sitting at the head of the council table in the Imperial Palace. It was almost noon, and Quintus had called an emergency meeting, presumably wishing to discuss critical news. Around the Emperor sat whatever leadership was left in the Empire after three years of mass death: there was Septimus Scipius, elderly Archmage of the Synod; Marcus Vespuccius, lone representative of the Elder Council even though it had been shut down months ago (at this point he simply represented all the nobles of the City); Xerxe A'tora, the gray-haired Hammerfell representative; Esbern Oakheart, director of Blades operations in the area; and Luca Arkator, director of the Penitus Oculatus.
"The Dominion broke through our line at the North Bridge early this morning," Quintus continued in his speech. The bridge was the Imperial City's only lifeline to the rest of the Empire, through which the City could receive desperately needed supplies from Bruma and Skyrim. Now that the Thalmor had defeated the soldiers defending those supply lines, the City was completely cut off.
"What does this mean for us?" asked Xerxe. He's a senile fool to ask for the answer to such an obvious question, Titus thought.
"It means that it's only a matter of time before the elves try to break down the gates of the City….hours even." An uproar arose as Quintus finished his sentence.
"Ridiculous! We've survived for months, you think now they can just knock down our walls so suddenly!" shouted Councilman Marcus.
"Oh please, what do you know about our situation, Lord Marcus?" responded Quintus dismissively. "The only reason you're invited here is for courtesy, not because I actually care about your opinion or that of any of you damn cowardly Elder Council fools. Now, the facts are that, all of our ships have been demolished by the Thalmor navy that has been steadily growing as more come down the Rumare River. Our citizens are killed daily by flying stones. Multiple soldiers have been abducted and killed by nighttime espionage. The truth is, Councilman, we have been slowly dying for the past six months."
"Is this the attitude our Commander should have?" said Xerxe. "One of negativity and hopelessness?"
"I'd prefer the term pragmatism, Lord A'tora. I must be honest and realistic with all of you. There is no backup arriving either. Gathering troops from Skyrim would take weeks, and even then it would probably only be a couple thousand at most."
"Very well then," responded Xerxe. "What do we do now? What are our options?"
For the duration of the meeting, Titus had been quiet, listening to the opinions and arguments of everyone else. Now, he felt it was his turn to speak up.
"If I may interject," Titus said, clearing is throat. The whole room turned silent to hear out the Emperor. "There is only one option, is there not? To defend the Imperial City with all of our forces, to make sure the elves have to try their damnedest to break down our walls."
"Of course, Your Majesty," responded Quintus.
"Thank you, Commander. Now then, what in Oblivion are we still doing, still sitting around here for!" Titus stood up from his chair, a stern look of determination on his face giving way to a cheeky smile. "We have a siege to win."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" the council members said in near-synchronous unison.
Of course, Titus knew that he had to have an escape plan. If the Emperor died, chaos was almost certain to follow. He would discuss such plans with Quintus in private, but for now, he had no intention of abandoning the capital to save his own skin.
Titus projected an air of confidence, but in truth, he was terrified. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined himself in this situation, with the entirety of Cyrodiil overrun by a foreign force. He had never dealt with such crushing defeat in his entire lifetime, and neither had his father or his grandfather. Not since the Interregnum, or even the Oblivion Crisis, had the Empire been so close to complete ruin.
Of course, there was also the element of uncertainty. The elves could attack at any time they pleased. Titus was completely at the mercy of the Thalmor. He wondered why they were so determined to destroy everything he ever loved, why they hated men with such vitriol. Did Tiber Septim really abuse them so much that they feel it necessary to annihilate his entire legacy? Considering the long lives of the Altmer, perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise to Titus that they had such long memories. But there had to be some ulterior motive for them to go so far, to be so ruthless and barbaric in their decimation of lives and property. There had to be something he was missing.
Then there was his troublesome son. He had been annoyed at his daughter for pleading so adamantly for Donus to fight in the defense of the City, but Titus knew that Medea was right; a prince must fight with his countrymen, not hide away in some ivory tower. But he couldn't bear the thought of losing him. He remembered his promise to his wife, that he would do everything in his power to take care and protect their son and daughter. Was he failing her by putting Donus right in the thick of battle?
But there was no time to think about that right now. Titus put all of his worries at the back of his head and focused on the task at hand. He had to be a leader, and by Akatosh and the Nine Divines, he would lead.
It was almost dusk as the sun began to set beneath the horizon. There was a buzz of movement and anxious whispers around the Imperial City. Word had spread that the Dominion was invading tonight or tomorrow, that their ships were set to land on the Isle at any moment now. Nervous soldiers marched around in every direction, ordered around by equally nervous officers. Civilians locked themselves up in their homes, fearing the worst, while the refugees and beggars scurried into the shacks and slums of the Market District and Waterfront. Nobody told them that the docks would most probably be the first places the elves would land if they reached the City.
Rikke could feel her stomach knot up in sheer anxiety. She had fought quite a few battles over the course of the year (had it really been a year since she had left Skyrim?), and she could never shake the feeling of nervousness before one. But this one was different. This battle was the final stand, it would determine whether the Empire would live or die. And if she would live or die.
Seated on the side of a bottom bunk in the West Barracks, she was putting her armor on along with her squadmates and those of the 501st. She looked around and saw all the comrades, of all races and genders and ages, that she had fought alongside throughout these grueling months. Galmar was seated on the bed opposite to her, talking to Igmund. She saw the Dark Elf Dres Indoril, seated on a table in the next room, drinking what seemed to be alcohol. And she saw Gaius Tullius standing a few feet away from her. He smiled at her and walk over to the bed.
"Rikke," he said as he sat beside her. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine. I think so, at least," Rikke responded.
"I…heard you weren't doing so well earlier. You've recovered?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright now. I was just thinking about…you know."
"Ah, right, that friend of yours. Ulfric, was it? A damn shame that was. He was a good soldier, and that magic of his was so powerful–"
"Gaius," Rikke interrupted. "I know you didn't like him."
"What? I never said that!"
"Yeah, you never said it, but I could still tell." She said with a side-eye.
"Well…." Gaius thought very carefully for his next words. "I was certainly not close with him, but that doesn't mean I can't respect his skills as a fighter."
"Alright, whatever you say," Rikke conceded, not wanting to antagonize her friend.
"And that Argonian too, he was an amazing swordsmen! Really terrible losses, the both of them. And then they murdered Legate Potema. What those damn knife-ears did to her is unforgivable!"
"Yeah, that was absolutely horrible." Rikke never admitted it, but Potema had been somewhat of an inspiration to her. She had always been under the impression that Imperials kept all of their women as housewives and servants, so seeing such a high-ranking and headstrong Nibenaean legionnaire reassured her that the Legion would be a welcoming profession for her in the future. Maybe she would even be able to become a Legate one day.
Just as Rikke finished her sentence, the door to outside the Barracks opened slowly. A young Imperial dressed in standard leather armor walked through sheepishly, obviously not wanting to attract too much attention.
"Donus?" Rikke said with a look of shock.
"Damn," said Gaius. "Didn't expect to see the Prince himself in here again." He lifted himself up from the bed and began to walk over to him. "Come, Rikke, let's go greet him."
Contrary to Donus's wishes, soldiers began to notice him, whispering that the Prince had arrived. Donus caught sight of his cousin and smiled, relieved to see a familiar face.
"Gaius, thank the gods," he said as they embraced. "I wasn't sure which barracks you'd be in, there are so damn many of them."
"Do you two….know each other?" Rikke asked with a look of confusion.
"Well, my father is the Emperor's cousin," responded Gaius. "So I guess that makes Donus and I second cousins. But honestly, I've always thought of him as my brother."
"Same here," added Donus.
"Wait, so did you know that Donus was hiding in the Legion, the whole time? And you didn't tell anyone? Including me?" Rikke said in a voice half angry and half incredulous.
"Well…yes, essentially," Gaius said with a guilty smile.
"Wow, Gaius, and I thought you were a stickler for the rules!" Rikke said with a laugh.
"Not when he has to protect his dear brother from his father," responded Donus, putting his hand on Gaius's shoulder. Side by side, the two looked awfully similar, with Gaius mainly distinguished by his height.
"Wait, Gaius," Rikke said. "Since you're cousins with the Royal family, does that mean you're in line for the throne?"
"Technically," he responded. "But my father is the son of Emperor Optimus's sister, so our claim is pretty weak. I'm at least….tenth in line? Probably more."
"Better than nothing," she said with a smirk.
A crowd began to form around Donus, with the soldiers seeming to expect the Prince to give some sort of speech. Officer Vittorius, who was seated in the dining room with the other senior Officers, walked up to him and gave him a hearty handshake.
"Prince Donus! What brings you here? Does His Majesty know of this or is this off the books?"
"No, Vittorius," Donus said. "I'm done hiding from my father. I'm here to fight with you all, my brothers and sisters in arms." He was speaking to the crowd now, raising his voice and looking all around himself.
"What's the plan, Prince Donus?" shouted out a legionnaire. "Are we staying and defending or retreating?"
"We have to retreat, there's no other option!" said another soldier. "The elves have us by the fucking throat!"
"That's High elves!" shouted Dres, annoyed with being lumped in with the enemy.
The crowd devolved into a shouting match, some saying that they wanted to stay and fight, and others saying the City was a lost cause and that they would be dying for nothing. Donus looked to Gaius and Vittorius, unsure of what to do. Even he had no idea what the ultimate plan was, since his father was so secretive. He had heard pieces from Uncle Quintus, but nothing of the full strategy.
"Just be honest," Gaius whispered to him. "It's what everyone needs."
Donus nodded. "For now!" He spoke up, projecting his voice across the entire cramped room. "For now, we stay and fight. The Commander predicts that the Dominion will be breaking through the south side of the City first, but they may also do a simultaneous attack on the West and East sides. So, we have to be ready for anything. If the Emperor and everyone up in the White-Gold need to escape, which they'll do by breaking through the elven blockade in the North, it'll be up to us to keep the rest of the Dominion of their backs." Donus paused for a moment, unsure if he should continue. He looked to Gaius for guidance, who silently suggested to say a little more. Donus had always felt some sort of magical, almost telepathic connection to his distant brother. Now it was finally coming in use.
"We owe it to everyone, all your man or mer or beast comrades beside you right now, and all those that you've lost." Donus stared straight at Rikke upon speaking those last words. She knew exactly who he was talking about. "We all on the same page?"
Many of the legionnaires nodded, affirming with "Aye" and "Damn right."
"Alright, everyone, try your hardest to stay up, because it's gonna be a long night. Remember to pray for your strength and for the strength of the City, because the Nine are watching over us." Donus unsheathed his blade and pointed it up into the air. "Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!"
"LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR! LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" the legionnaires repeated, energized and ready to fight. Rikke had absolutely no idea how the battle would end up. Destiny was in Akatosh's hands; it was up to her to fulfill her role and see the night through.