"The official religion of Cyrodiil is Nonarianism, a belief system centered around the worship of the so-called 'Nine Divines', which emerged from and rapidly outgrew its parent religion, Octarianism. Cyrodilic Imperialism, while not officially intolerant of other religions, has caused small pockets of Nonarianists to emmerge in all province of Tamriel." -The Heart of the Empire, "Religion"

Second Seed 29, 4E2

(Armory, Subterranean Sanctuary)

The thick shower of sparks as the rock-wheel ground the metal was one I had not seen in a long time. There was not much need for a sharp sword in the Imperial City patrols, and even here it was questionable how necessary it was right now, but hardass Rizzani demanded today we sharpen our weapons. With only four wheels in the armory, however, it was required we take turns, and the Captain had extracted Jeelen, Deechana, Hal-Seeus and I from our card game, delaying an imminent Jack Attack.

The armory stored not only the standard Imperial Legion arms of longswords, shortswords, and bows, but also a few other weapons: hammers, daggers, and claymores. Deechana had gotten the opportunity to handle two claymores at once with ogre strength, though it was Jeelen who had found himself more enthralled with the idea, and likely a little envious.

"Fidelis, Seeus, either of you ever handled a weapon besides what the Legion gave you?" the Waterfront Argonian asked. It was a natural topic to sprout in a room like this. I had been given my grandfather's longsword for the road on the way to the Imperial City, but beyond that, no.

"A longsword, just for the roads. I never had to use it though."

"Not me," said Hal-Seeus. Intuitive, because, as our Field Healer, he rarely even used his weapon in the Legion.

"I did." Jeelen said, "Every one's gotta have a weapon on the Waterfront, but no one can afford a good one unless they're up to some illegal shit. I just had a rusty iron dagger, almost had to use it once for my sister's sake." Jeelen never before mentioned having a sister.

"What happened?"

But then I thought I heard the secret entrance opening! The silence signaled I was not the only one intrigued. It was quickly followed by an alien voice. "Captain Rizzani, Captain Rizzani!" the Colovian voice called. I stopped pedaling. The others did too. We listened.

The door to Rizzani's office opened from the inside, and through the wall I could hear "Lelles! What's bringing you here!"

The Breton said in a slightly breathless but still powerful tone, "It's an attack Kae'tar, that Nonarian village a mile from here! One of the locals came running to our camp, but I couldn't leave the encampment any less attended than it is now! I could only bring a couple of troopers with me! Could you spare some of your own, maybe even an interpreter?"

Without another word, a shout came in our direction. "Jeelen, Fidelis, Deechana, Ah-Marz, stop sharpening those weapons! You're under the command of Captain Salomon Lelles now! Get out here on the double!" This was quite unexpected.

Then the Redguard yelled down the hall, "Inius, cancel training and find S'Bassa. Both of you submit yourself to the command of Captain Lelles!" I had never been presented with an assignment this way before. "Don't bother with any item of armor soldiers," said the man to all six of us, "just bring yourselves to Lelles on the double!"

I disengaged from the machine. I immediately started walking for the doorway, the others doing the same. This would certainly be different, fighting without plating or biological enhancements. I felt slightly intimidated, but nonetheless approached the doorway with my shortsword at my side, about to see the long referenced Captain Lelles for the first time and fall under his command.

He was tall for a Breton, hair a fiery orange, eyes blue, and face hearty. He was in the hulking, proud metal Legion suit I had not seen in a long time. And here I was, standing at the ready to fight in cloth.

Everyone else's eyes seemed to have turned down the hall, though, so mine did too; I saw S'Bassa being led out of the dining quarters by Inius. I had not worked with an interpreter since Dune, except for the unofficial one Soch-Eena had served as in Black Marsh.

Once their spirited strides had all brought us clustered together, the Breton officer shouted, "Come on!" He began to head back through the secret passage. It was an odd sight, a new man in this clandestine headquarters.

As he got into the 'ruin' section he broke into a light jog which we followed.

It struck me strange someone as low ranking as a Captain, besides Rizzani, knew about this facility. What about the troopers he was with, where were they? Were they also aware?

He began up the stairs. Obviously the soldiers he had mentioned were somewhere on the surface, but had they seen him enter this underground chamber? Would they be staring right at our facing as soon as we reached ground-level?

The darkness of the ruin quickly made its way down the officer's body, giving way to sunlight, and then we were out in the hot, humid, jungle air.

Ahead, through the leaves and shrubbery and trunks, two figures in Legion armor, both with their backs to us, could be discerned. Those were the men he had brought, and Breton had used a comical method for keeping them in the dark.

The Captain's jog was getting faster, the path still a good deal away, and we followed suit.

Suddenly Inius spoke from behind us, "I assume you have your hands full with the city, sir, and that's why you need to employ us."

It was as much of a question as a statement, but did give off a hint that he disliked surprises. It seemed a little unprofessional to ask those sort of things.

"City's terrible, soldier. Humanitarian aid shipments are being attacked, guild workers being kidnap, some crazies keep cutting the ropes on the wells no matter how many times we fix 'em, and some psychopath keeps throwing fire potions over the walls." Throwing fire potions over the walls? What motivated people to behave like that? Still, it was not the first time I had heard such a grim and strange report. We just had to keep truding through the darkness, hoping for a glimmer, and not a pitfall.

Either way, silence indicated that was a satisfactory answer for the Imperial-named Argonian

Leaves and ferns slapped my legs. Salomon Lelles was the only one with that area covered by metal.

"What about to the local who told you about the attack?" Deechana asked. Apparently the unit had established this officer was a pretty open book.

"He's recieving medical attention at our encampment, but focus on the struggle ahead, we've got lives to save." Or perhaps not.

We were close to the two armored Legionaries, but they remained perfectly still. "Broder, Gro-Karlog," the officer yelled. "You can turn now, but if I find out either one of you peaked behind it's a court-marshal!"

The Imperial and Orc rotated themselves, and the Captain slowed to a stop to face rightward down the path, the way to the village obviously.

He began moving, quickly elevating to a runner's pace; we accelerated in kind. It would be nice to meet the two new Legionaries, but socializing would not occur until the return. Our current priority was to save the Khajiiti Nonarians, though it was an interesting and somewhat intimidating fight we would go into with no armor, no plan, and no special parts.

Still, it would be great to be recognized for heroism again, to rescue people directly rather than secretly ambush the enemy. My best memories from this province were hearing the thanks of the indigenous people.

Of course, thanks had to be earned. We had to run with all our mite, and prepare for combat ahead. I could tell Lelles' was running along the path as fast as his armor would let him now.