When Hieronymus Lex left his tent in the morning, he was greeted by a gloomy drizzle. It was a cold and cheerless morning, with the sun still hidden behind the brooding, sweeping clouds. This weather didn't brighten his already dark mood. He felt as though a rock had been placed on his chest. He had hardly felt this sort of anxiousness before, perhaps only on the day he applied for captain. He couldn't dwell on it, though, as walking through the falling rain was the Battle-Singer, who had a small, expectant smile on her face. "Well, imperator?" she asked as she drew near, "How does it feel?"

"Excuse me?" Lex replied, batting the falling rain from his eyes.

The general's smirk grew. "It's the morning before a big battle. Your first, even. Can you feel the tension? In the men? In yourself? Knowing that tonight you'll either feast in victory or rot on the fields… I love that feeling, Imperator," she said with a contented sigh, "It's when I feel the most alive."

Lex started walking again. "You've an extremely odd definition of feeling alive," he quipped, "But as for myself, I'm merely performing my duty. I feel at peace."

"A pity," Sigrdríf said, still smiling, "A true warrior would be overjoyed at a prospective battle."

"Possibly. However, you forget that I'm a guardsman," Lex responded while keeping a brisk pace.

Lex could've sworn he heard a faint giggle, but the rain made such subtle noises impossible to hear. "Fair enough, Imperator."

They were silent as they kept walking past the now quiet and empty tents. After some time, they approached a small bluff just outside of the camp. On top of the hill were a few figures Lex could recognize—Darius with a severe look on his face, Kirania biting her lip in anticipation, and Guilliam blowing into his balled hands, trying to keep warm. Surrounding them was Lex's army, the fresh young recruits and haggard old veterans, the exhausted Imperials and eager Nords; all of whom had assembled waiting for their commands.

Lex reached his companions, all of who saluted. Darius stepped forward. "The rain won't last," he said, "That's fortuitous. The Dunmer will need to march through the mud to reach us; they're not used to such conditions."

"We were able to build some light fortifications," Sigrdríf added, "But they're not going to do too much. The Dark Elves' numbers are somewhat less than we had anticipated—it seems as though they sent a sizable chunk of their forces southwest towards the mountain passes they assumed we'd use. That could be our decisive advantage."

Lex looked across the hills. Just within his view he could see the Dunmer, their forces looking like so many insects swarming in the hills. He could tell that their foes still definitely had the advantage of numbers. "When will they move?" he asked.

"I think they're waiting out the rain," replied Darius, "Possibly in an hour or two. Maybe less."

Lex closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. When he opened them, he noticed that both Darius and Sigrdríf were looking at him expectantly. There was a moment where no one said anything, which Sigrdríf eventually broke. "Don't you want to say something to the men, imperator?"

Lex glanced out at his soldiers, "Yes, I should, shouldn't I?" he said.

Hieronymus took a few steps out and looked at the soldiers. He saw many different emotions in crowd—hope, fear, anticipation, despair, loyalty—and it struck him how so many of these men were going to die. His throat felt dry, but he steeled his resolve. "The Empire," he called out in a strong, loud voice, "Expects every man to do his duty."

With that he turned and walked back to the generals. Darius looked unimpressed, and Sigrdríf had a half-exasperated, half-unbelieving look on her face. "That's it?" she managed after a moment.

Lex looked surprised. "Was that not sufficient?"

The Nord sighed. "No, imperator, that was fine… Just…" her voice trailed off as she sighed again and walked out in front of the men herself.

She took a deep breath in, "Listen, the lot of you," her powerful voice boomed, "Some of you call me your general. Others know me by reputation, and others still have no idea who I am, other than that one woman general. But I know you. I know what you're thinking; so far from home, fighting some dark-skinned devil in a land you neither know or care of. I know your heart aches for your homes, for your wives, children and families. I know this all, because I feel it too.

"But we share a common cause. We, together, are the hammer of the Empire. We defend this institution that has brought prosperity to all of Tamriel from those monsters so selfish that they would tear down our very civilization just to suit their immediate, individual needs. This whole thing makes me sick. But I'm not surprised. The entire history of civilization we've fought the mer; it's out endless, thankless struggle. Who hunted the twisted and sadistic elven empire of myth? We, the children of Skyrim! Who drove out their thrice-damned Heartland High Elf overlords from the heartland of the Empire? You, the brave followers of Talos!"

Lex glanced over to Darius, who looked grim. The soldiers seemed to be getting energetic, though. Sigrdríf was as well. "So remember, brave soldiers, we are standing at the brink of this great conflict with the ancestral foe yet again. This is our hour! Centuries from now old men will tell their children of the heroism that we will accomplish here, how we righteously struck down the heathen, backwards Dunmer and reestablished peace. We will be the next heroes in a long, glorious line! No matter what mask the ancient enemy hides behind, an elf is always an elf; and you can be damn certain that man will be there to put him in his place! Pick up the sword and face the enemy! Today we fight!"

Sigrdríf yelled, causing the army to cheer in anticipation. Lex's expression stayed reserved, but he caught out of the corner of his eye Guilliam starting to give a bit of a cheer, only to be silenced by Kirania kicking him in the shin. Darius looked even less amused at Sigrdríf's rallying cry. "She certainly has a flair for the dramatic, doesn't she?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Sigrdríf returned to Lex and Darius, shaking her hair once with a sort of wild energy. Darius made no effort to mask his distaste. "Exceptionally fine speech, general," he managed.

"It was certainly rousing," Lex added dryly.

"Of course," said Sigrdríf with one of her crisp laughs, "These men, they won't go out and get themselves killed for a wage they could get anywhere else, or for some little distinction. As a leader, you've got to be able to stir their very souls and inspire them. That's the only way we can kill those Tribunal zealots. It's also a fine lesson for any imperator to learn," she added with a sly smile.

Lex frowned, but didn't dwell on the matter. He turned and looked at his younger comrades, both of whom seemed ready and eager. "Where're we going, cap'n?" said Guilliam, "You just give the order, and I'll fight as hard as I can."

"Out of the question," Lex replied, "I want you two to wait in the camp."

"No way!" Guilliam whined, "We can't just run away! That's the cowards way out!"

Kirania nodded. "I don't expect any special treatment, sir."

Lex deeply sighed and pondered the situation. He glanced at Guilliam. "I want you to be my runner," he determined, "I'll give you commands, and you relay them to the front lines, understand?"

Guilliam nodded. "Of course, c'apn. I'll do a damn good job!"

The youth ran over towards where Sigrdríf and Darius were standing, obviously excited at such a prospect. Lex tried to shake a bad feeling growing in his chest, but turned his attention to Kirania. Her face was more resolute than it had been in the past, and her eyes had a glimmer of duty that had been missing when he had first met her. "Guardswoman, you're effective from range, are you not?"

"Yes, sir," she replied.

Lex nodded and closed his eyes. "I want you to join the skirmishers on the western flank," he said after a moment, "See what you can do. If it gets too dangerous, start falling back, understood?"

"Of course, sir," she replied with a salute.

The Bosmer turned around and was hustling to her position, but heard Lex call out to her before she could get to far away. "I meant that, soldier," he called out, "If it gets too dangerous, get out of there."

She turned around and faced Lex. Although she was too far away to see properly, Lex could make out a warm smile on her face, along with a nod. Soon afterwards she vanished over one of the many hills. Lex strode over to where the generals stood. None of them spoke as the minutes dragged on, the time only increasing the tension that Lex and Darius felt (Sigrdríf, for her part, had a smile on her face). After twenty minutes, though, Lex noticed the nearby Cormaris Lake glimmer. He looked up, and noticed that it was reflecting the sun that was breaking through the clouds. And he also noticed that the rain had vanished, leaving only a cool breeze in its wake. Shouts came up from the Dunmer camp, and Lex noticed the throng of enemy soldiers start to move. Darius furrowed his brow. "They're coming," he stated.

Sigrdríf's grin widened. "The die is cast."

Habasi crept below decks of the ghost ship with her trademark craftsmanship. Her steps were noiseless, and her motions nearly undetectable. However, her efforts were seemingly for nothing. The ship was oddly quiet; she hadn't encountered a soul since she boarded. However, she could make out two distinct sensations. First were odd, metallic sounds, which seemed to grow louder as she progressed in the vessel. The only thing she could recall sounding like this were some devices in an old dwarven ruin she had encountered in Vvardenfel, but this seemed more elegant and less clunky than she was familiar with. The other was the ever-present reek of felshine, which threatened to overtake her clarity of thought with its mind-fogging properties.

As she turned a corner, the corridor she was in fed into a larger room. Above her head was some grating which allowed a decent amount of moonlight to enter and illuminate the chambers. There were vast reciprocals on the walls here, made of brilliant, shining bronze, which had connected to them equally beautiful metal tubes, all of which fed into the far wall. The beauty of such objects was sullied, though, by all the felshine which was pouring through the metalwork, filling the containers as well as a large reservoir in the middle of the room that was filled with what seemed to be the drug, although it smelled… cruder. Less refined. Yet still extremely enticing. As Habasi hugged the wall, she couldn't help but feel nervous. There was enough of the drug to last for years, decades even. Even the largest skooma dens would be lucky to have a fraction of the supply she saw here. And furthermore, she still didn't even know what this stuff was. But her destination was clear.

Two large loading doors were at the far said of the room, where the brass pipes led. She moved silently towards them, not letting her guard down for a moment. When she arrived she pressed an ear to the door. She could hear more noises—more machines, some odd grunting noises and something else, something she couldn't explain. She moved her paws to open the great doors, which easily parted to reveal the twisted heart of the ship.

When Habasi saw the room, she gasped in horror as she felt every strand of fur on her body bristle. In dozens of large, clear containers flanking the room were horrible, twisted creatures; like overgrown insects, writhing in pain. She could now clearly hear cries of agony slip from their overgrown mandibles, while their large pincer-like hands scratched at their transparent prisons. More horrible still were large tubes painfully latched to their thoraxes, forcefully sucking out a raw green liquid from their bodies. Tending to them were frightening stooped humanoids, which resembled a form of furry goblin, who maintained the myriad machines that moaned and rattled in every wall and corner of the room, monitoring and processing the substances that passed through them. Needless to say, the stench was overpowering.

As Habasi retched, she realized several of the goblinoids were glancing as the door. She slipped out, breathing heavily, her ears still violated by the frantic clawing of the bug-creatures, and her nose by the obscene amount of raw felshine. She reached into her pack and slipped out a torch which she deftly lit (she had read somewhere that goblins feared fire), as well as an old steel dagger. There were likely to be more of the hunchbacked monstrosities, and she would need Christophe's assistance to fully sabotage the operation. She just needed to know where Christophe was.

Her question, however, was swiftly answered by a horrible scream from above decks. Christophe's scream. Suddenly, she felt as though a vice had seized her heart, and for half a second couldn't respond. She then quickly shook off her dazed feeling and sprinted down the path she had taken before, working her way back to the surface of the vessel, trying to stay calm despite the liquid terror pumping through her veins. Like a blur she sped through the narrow walls until she saw the small hatch that she had entered from. Leaving all subtlety behind she burst through the opening and onto the deck.

She jerked her head to the other side of the ship to Christophe kneeling, grasping at his right arm. The sleeve was soaked in blood. Opposite him was a man clad in black holding what seemed to be a sickle attached to a long chain. Chrisophe noticed Habasi, and despair flooded over his already pained features. "Get out of here, kitten!" he labored, "You've got to warn S'Krivva!"

Habasi felt herself go lightheaded. This wasn't possible. "No! You've got to come with her!" she yelled, trying to get over a sudden bout of dizziness, "Run!"

"There isn't enough time!" Christophe barked in frustration, "Go!"

The Khajiit shook her head violently, "Not without you! Together!"

She reached out, but as soon as she did, the veiled man started to spin his chain. "What devotion," he called out, his merciless voice shattering the stillness of the night, "I had always assumed that you people only thought of yourselves. But it is of no matter. Both of you will die tonight. Make your peace with your gods."

The voice was familiar; Habasi had heard it before, the night before Agrippa was murdered. She clenched the dagger in her fist tightly. "You… You killed Agrippa!"

The blade at the end of the chain was now a blur spinning under the moonlight. It made a beautiful sound as it danced, but Habasi couldn't take her mind off the red stains that still coated it. Christophe's blood. "I did," replied the figure, "He spoke, he was a liability, I eliminated him. He has become just one of the many victims in my career."

Habasi pointed her dagger at the man, who was walking towards her slowly, as though he were an undertaker approaching a grave. "Habasi will not forgive you," she hissed, "She will not forgive you! You will be punished for what you've done, Habasi swears this!"

Christophe grabbed at his arm in total defeat, "Habasi, no!" he hollered,"You can't match him!"

The figure gave a cold laugh, colder than a winter midnight, colder than a brackish cavern-pool that had never known sunlight, colder than the lonely, icy spires of Skyrim or the desolate, forgotten glaciers of Solstheim. "You think that you have the right to punish me? Such arrogance amuses me. You will learn your place, beast, as all animals do."

Habasi bared her teeth as the distance between them slowly closed. She had fought opponents before, but he had a sort of determination about him that made her frightened. She braced herself, preparing for the coming fight…

Horns thundered across the Cormaris foothills as the first wave of Dunmer smashed into the front lines of Lex's army. Darius' Deathshead Legion, weary yet hardened, took the blunt of the blow. Redoran soldiers, wearing their tan, organic armor, cleaved through the first line, but were skewered in response, falling to the ground only to be trampled by new warriors, eager to replace their fallen allies. There was chaos, true, but the line was being held fast, and the soldiers showed no intention of running away, even when a swing of a Dunmeri mace smashed into their comrade's skull.

Lex, safely at a distance, surveyed the combat. "They still outnumber us," he muttered.

Darius frowned. "We have a secure position. We can hold this, at least for some time. Sala can't win if he just throws troops at us," he continued, as though he was thinking aloud, "He knows this. Why is he just throwing their lives away?"

On the opposite side of Lex, Sigrdríf stood with a small half-grin on her face, looking amused. "Tell me, imperator," she said, "What do you see?"

Lex looked over the battlefield. Most of the Redoran were striking at the center of the army, at its heart, where the Imperials were taking less casualties than they were inflicting. Standing at the ready were the Indoril, clad in beautiful armor, as though they were waiting for the chance to strike. The flanks, held by the mighty VIIth Legion, were being lightly harassed by Hlaalu skirmishers, but it was akin to horseflies pestering a mighty ox. At the far ends, Lex noticed the Imperial archers shooting into the Redoran and Indoril reserves, some of which made their mark. Lex shook his head. "We look safe."

"Don't be a moron," Sigrdríf immediately replied, "Look harder."

Lex's eyes narrowed. After a moment he heard a sharp intake of breath from Darius. "I don't understand," he repeated, with some frustration in his voice, "We're in a solid position."

"Which is soon going to evaporate," Darius muttered, sounding suddenly pessimistic.

"Order the VII's reserves to the flanks," said Sigrdríf decisively.

Lex turned and nodded to Guilliam, who sprinted off as soon as he got the signal. As the boy darted away, Lex shook his head. "I don't understand. Those white armored soldiers in the back—they can't attack us without running the gauntlet of arrows."

"I was never concerned about those foot soldiers," Sigrdríf said. She looked less cocky now, although her voice was doing a good job of hiding it.

Lex frowned. "But you said… You said that horses can't survive in Morrowind. That the grass kills them."

"Oh, I did," Sigrdríf said, looking over the battlefield, "But you assumed that the only sort of mounted foes ride on horses. Look there… And listen," she finished, pointing towards the horizon.

Lex leaned forward. For several seconds he didn't see or hear anything besides the din of the battle. Yet after a few moments, he thought for a moment that he did hear something… A faraway, faint noise, like a mosquito or a gnat. But it slowly grew louder and louder, until it could be clearly heard. From far in the distance, Lex could make out odd, oblong objects moving quickly towards their position. His mouth slacked when he could actually make them out. Moving at speeds he didn't think possible were what seemed to be giant hornets, larger than any horse, tearing across the field with lethal intentions. On top of them were Dunmeri soldiers, carrying huge spears of bows, ready to kill. Their thunderous advance was focused on the far flanks… In the large mass of troops which Kirania was part of. Lex felt a wave of fear take over him. "What in the hell…?"

"House Dres," Darius said with the same sort of foreboding "The Dunmer cavalry."

"It all determines if they're reinforced in time…" Sigrdríf said, her intent gaze on the archers, and the hustling Nords trying to reach them before the monstrous chargers did, "If not, they'll be butchered..."

Lex's eyes widened. "Kirania…" he muttered, and felt his fist involuntarily clench.

The archers had now noticed the mass of insects flying on death's wings towards them, and started to flee. They weren't far from those who intended to save them. But it soon dawned on Lex that they were going to be too late. He gasped in horror as the first of the Dres' flyers reached the lightly armored archers, and their black mass began to overrun the Imperials, as well as Lex's young companion…

Count Corvus Umbranox stood deep within Castle Sentinel in front of an old, wooden door. At his feet were two guards, supposedly Sentinel's finest. The count nearly sneered at the mere memory of them—they each fell to a single blow. They weren't dead (that wasn't the count's style), but they were very much incapacitated. Yet the count was never one to rest on his laurels; not after the final guard's groan left his lips had Count Umbranox silently open the door and shut it, making less noise than the dripping of a leak in the dank depths of the fortress.

He was now in a small, narrow passageway which seemed to lead down to some sort of wine cellar. The count narrowed his eyes—this was certainly an odd location for royalty to be meeting with some foreign envoy, and an even odder hour of night. Slowly and silently he descended the stairs which led into another, better lit room. While there was plenty of wine, the count's attention was immediately drawn to the other end of the chamber. He could make out two figures in the poor light. One was Lhotun, King of Sentinel, looking rather meek and harried. His face had shrunken, and his robes hung loosely over his emaciating frame. Across from the king was another figure, a woman clad in black, who seemed to be far more filled with life. The count caught the sound of the king's raspy voice. "But I simply couldn't. It would go fully against hospitality…"

"Please, your highness," the woman interrupted, "You've already captured the two and held them against their will. We need to do this to show the Empire that we're serious."

The count's face darkened further. The woman had masked it well, but he could catch a wisp of her original accent. What disturbed him is that is sounded like nothing he had ever heard in Tamriel. The king sighed and shook his head, "But it's so cruel, so… Wrong. I couldn't possibly…" he stuttered, "Don't you think this has gone on long enough?"

"Sire?" the woman responded, surprise evident in her voice, "Whatever do you mean?"

Lhotun had aged before his time. His face was deeply set with wrinkles and liver spots, and his hair was more gray than black, an oddity in Redguards. "I believe this war has gone on too long… I trusted you when you first gave me the arguments, but we've merely thrown the bay back into chaos. It is as though the Miracle of Peace was for nothing…"

"No, don't tell yourself that!" the woman cut in, "Daggerfall and Wayrest would've struck eventually. Soon the latter will fall, and Daggerfall will have to sue for peace on your terms, maybe even become a vassal! Then a true and lasting peace will come to the bay, sire!"

Lhotun frowned "You are altogether too eager about this 'peace', demon," he spat, emphasizing his last word.

The woman put a hand to her chest. "You harm me with your words, sire," she said in a hurt tone, "I merely am a humanitarian envoy. To see your people prosper would give me nothing but the greatest pleasure."

The count silently moved behind a large keg where he could both be unseen yet still see the two figures. "I've had enough of your half-truths," Lhotun countered (or did what was as close to a counter as a beaten man like himself could manage), "I know you want something from us. But until now I felt as though our aims were mutually beneficial… How foolish I was."

The count leaned in despite himself, hardly believing what was going on. The woman apparently had not planned for this resolution to her conversation. "Sire, please—"

"What I am curious as to now, fiend, is why you are so intent on killing the count and his wife. Is it merely to goad the Empire?"

The count's eyes widened as the woman put her hands out in front of herself, as though to block the accusations, "Your royal highness, I just think that a renewed, stronger policy against Imperial corruption would be best for Sentinel."

"No, demon! You twist your words; you try to ensnare me deeper into your web—no longer! Why is the count's death so important? Why is war so necessary for you? Was my original assessment about you right all along!?" he demanded, his voice starting to finally get some fire to it, "Was the Crisis just the beginning to your twisted plan!?"

"I can assure you," the woman said, her voice growing ever more desperate, "That I only have the purest intentions for your—"

She suddenly stopped. The king was taken aback, and the room was plunged immediately into silence. The count blinked once and tried to get a closer look at what the woman was doing. She stood in silence for a few moments, as though she were weighing her options. Then, with a sudden flick of her wrist, she produced a single, dazzling shuriken. The king gasped, as her arm shot out, whipping the metal star directly at the keg which the count was hiding behind. Count Umbranox thought he had a moment of time to think, but to his shock and even horror the throwing star penetrated one end of the keg and sailed through the other as though it were made of paper, not even to note the wine inside. The count gave a sudden, instinctive roll to avoid the shrunken hitting him at the absolute last second, but at a terrible price. When his mind came to he realized he was in the middle of the room, in plain sight of the king and the mysterious woman. He stood and faced them resolutely; Lhotun seemed frightened, but the woman, despite her face being obscured, was clearly amused. "My, my! The man of the hour shows his face!" she said with a small clap of her hands, "That was amazing, Count Umbranox! I had no idea that you could dodge one of my special little treasures! It seems your vulpine ways haven't fully degenerated, have they?"

The count gave a visible, startled step backwards. That word she had used… She couldn't have known… No one knew, save the one… Try as he might to remember, he had never been taken more off guard. "What are you talking about?" he stuttered.

The woman gave a scornful laugh as she summoned another shuriken to her wrists, "Oh, don't play that card with me. I know all about you. You honestly thought that you could keep such a divine secret for so long? No, I think we should have a little chat, Corvus Umbranox," she said, mockery dripping off her voice with every word, "And we'll see just how cunning you really are."

The count fumed in anger. He had no idea how he could've been trapped into the situation so easily. He glanced to the door, but before he could even consider moving, the woman laughed again. "I never miss twice, you know."

"Fine, girl," he said, shooting daggers at the woman, "We will talk. And we'll see just how hard it is to outwile a fox."

Whatever semblance of order that had existed on the Cormaris plain had flickered away like so many lives had this morning. The wasp-cavalry had poured over the archers, the lucky ones simply were skewered by the long lances, the unlucky ones impaled by the huge, barbed stingers, reeling on the earth in pain as they died. Their horrified screams unsettled all but the most hardened, as did the horrible buzzing sound that accompanied the mounted Dunmeri. They attempted, it seemed, to not just rout the archers, but fly around back and crush the Deathshead in a pincer move. However, Sigrdríf's valiant men intercepted a vast majority of them, their battleaxes smashing through the wasps' chitinous hides. Some, however, managed to mangle their Nord opponents just as easily as they had the archers, and fewer still broke through into Darius' spearmen. Lex could hear their screams of surprise as the enemy smashed into them from both the front and the back, and the tide of battle began to turn.

The Indoril soldiers withdrew their maces and scimitars in unison and pointed them towards the wearying Redoran allies. They charged into the front lines, but where the Redoran seemed to be waves crashing upon a cliff, the new, elite stoops eradicated an entire row of legionaries in their first charge alone. They fought like men possessed, bloodily fleecing the lines as they grew closer and closer to breaking the Imperial formation.

In the generals' position, Lex could scarcely believe his eyes. "This is madness," he breathed.

Sigrdríf clicked her tongue. "And I was so hoping that we would have been able to stop those wasps. This… Complicates matters."

Darius gave a bitter laugh. "Merely complicates? I think we should conceder retreat."

"Never," replied Sigrdríf, "We will never run away from these creatures. Where is your boy?" she asked, looking to Lex.

The imperator looked about himself, "I… I don't know. Guilliam should've returned by now."

Sigrdríf gave a frustrated sigh. She turned to a nearby soldier in the honor guard. "Go back to the caravan and wheel out the weapon," she barked, "On the double!"

As the soldier ran off, both Lex and Darius turned to her. "I don't recall you mentioning any weapon we needed to wheel in," said Lex.

The Nord shook her hair about her and refocused her attention to the battle. "It's a secret weapon, so to speak. I couldn't allow spies to get word of it, so I didn't tell either of you."

Darius' face contorted in anger. "You what!? You've been keeping tactics from us, making your own plans? There is no excuse for this!"

Sigrdríf turned and sneered in response, "Oh come on, Darius. I know your political leanings. You love these little red-eyes. In fact, rumor has it that you were… Intimate with one back up in Gnisis."

"That is completely beside the point—"

"Is it?" Sigrdríf said, cutting him off, "Remember, we only are working with you because of necessity. When this is all over, I'm going to look into your records, you know. Recently you've had this knack for pulling defeats out from the jaws of victory; I'm curious as to whether you've got a sudden case of incompetency or if your loyalties—"

"Enough!" shouted Lex, "I will not have you two accusing each other of treason here. But general, I need to know why you would keep such information from me."

Sigrdríf smiled at Lex, seeming much less agitated looking at him. "Please, imperator, I mean not to offend. I have full trust in you, but those you surround yourselves with, like that girl… Their loyalty is not assured."

Lex was unconvinced. "I see myself as a good judge of character."

Sigrdríf gave him a sad smile in return. "At least that's what you assume."

Darius did not look altogether pleased with this turn of events. "I wonder," he bitterly spat, "How many other strategic decisions our good general decided to keep from her peers."

Immediately after the words left his mouth there was a loud cracking noise, and a tall, heavily armored man appeared in front of the three. There were other sudden cracks as dozens of similar dressed men appeared behind him in formation. The first man kneeled before Sigrdríf, and his followers did likewise. "I am Captain Commodus, from the Fifth Division of the Imperial College of Battlemages," he announced with an urgency to his voice, "How can we serve?"

Lex shot Sigrdríf a bewildered glance; Darius' was significantly less benign. Sigrdríf gave a short, nervous laugh and pointed towards her superior. "You should probably kneel before him."

Captain Commodus nodded and pivoted to face Lex, still on one knee. His companions followed suit. "I am Captain Commodus, from the Fifth Division of the Imperial College of Battlemages," he repeated with the same forceful tone, "How can we serve?"

Lex shook his head. "Go reinforce the front lines. Hurry before they snap."

The battlemage nodded and stood. He yelled an order and started sprinting towards the battle, with his soldiers following behind him. Sigrdríf gave Lex an apologetic smile. "At least we have reinforcements," she pointed out, "This is a net positive. And far more dramatic than if you had known ahead of time, don't you agree?"

Darius snorted. "Perhaps it is I who needs to look into you when this is over, Battle-Singer. It's almost treasonous to keep such information from your superiors."

"Peace," said Lex, "We'll not be consumed by infighting."

Darius was silent after that, and Sigrdríf seemed quite content. The Indoril ranks seemed wavered slightly as the battle turned against them and they were overtaken by huge blasts of fire, ice, and shock. The conflagration confused the Redoran soldiers, who fell back, running into the Indroril, causing the elite shock troops to be in a more challenging position. As the battlemages grew short on magicka, they drew their weapons and rallied Darius' men. Their steel smashed into the Indoril's ornate armor, and it seemed that for once the odds were evened. Sigrdríf allowed herself a smile while Darius looked on in caution. Lex watched a curiously large wagon being wheeled over near their position while several scholarly looking Bretons started to unpack what was inside.

Midway into the fighting, though, over the sounds of clanging metal and tearing flesh, an odd noise rolled over the field. The members of the Imperial Legion who weren't in immediate danger looked around to find the source, as did a few of the Dunmer. It was an odd, mournful sound, like an animal that had just lost its mate; it was a low and deep echo which stirred something in Lex's soul. Darius and Sigrdríf looked far less sentimental. Both were now back to a state of shock, and even fear. Lex looked to both of them. "What is it?" he asked, "What made that noise?"

"It couldn't be…" muttered Sigrdríf, "They couldn't possibly have…"

"Impossible," agreed Darius, "The temperament of the beasts is all wrong. I've never even heard of rumors like this."

"What?" Lex asked again, "What is it?"

Sigrdríf leaned forward, and her already normally white face managed to pale. "All-Mother Kyne," she whispered, "They did it."

Lex looked forward, and for several seconds was sure that his eyes were deceiving him. Striding towards the field of battle were huge creature that Lex had never seen before. They looked like giant ticks, with massive, spindly legs which kept them very far off the ground, roughly the height of a watchtower. There were five in all, and as they grew closer Lex noticed that they were armored. Another sorrowful warble emanated from them, which in turn rallied the Dunmer who began to fight with a new ferocity. Sigrdríf leaned back and gave a bitter, pained smile. "I have to give that Sala credit. He made the impossible possible."

"Silt striders," Darius muttered, apparently for Lex's benefit, "Used mainly as transportation. Despite their size, they're extremely skittish, and have never been used like this before. We need to give the word to fall back. I had no idea that Sala would use such a weapon."

Sigrdríf glanced towards the wagon, "No," she insisted, "We can kill them. Trust me. All I need it time. Give me time, and I can topple those beasts."

It was now Darius' turn to give a mirthless smile. "Do you truly believe that we have such a luxury to give?"

Lex watched as the striders grew near, wondering if they really did have the time Sigrdríf insisted on, and if his faith in her would cost him his life…

Habasi stood on the deck of the Ghost Ship, resolved to kill whoever it was who was standing before her. His sickle glimmered under the moonlight, making a piercing whistling sound as it spun round and round, drawing ever closer to Habasi's position. The area they were in was large and mostly empty, with the only main features being the metal cylinders hanging off the sides of the ship and the large grating with was under the figure's feet. Habasi could only assume it emptied into the large room with the felshine vat. The figure seemed confident. "You're going to die here," he bellowed, "Do you have any last words that you wish to speak?"

Habasi snarled. "This one has been in far worse positions than this!" she hissed.

"I doubt it," the figure responded, and without a moment's notice, directed the blade.

It moved far faster than Habasi had anticipated. It made a loud, whooshing noise as it cut the very air, speeding towards Habasi's position. She threw herself to the left at the last moment, but could feel the wind it pushed aside brush her face. Even with both hands occupied she landed with some sort of grace, only to see that the figure had already returned the blade to his hand as the chain retracted. A second later he threw it again, and once more Habasi barely tumbled from its reach, this time stumbling a step. The figure sneered. "Impressive," he commented, he retracted the chain towards himself, "But let us see if you can maintain such dexterity."

Habasi could only get a couple of breaths in before the blade sped past her head once more. She desperately tried to get out of the and nearly collapsed. The figure laughed in a tone that befitted a devil as Christophe called out to the panting Khajiit, "Run, Habasi! Get to the boat!"

The figure glanced at the Redguard. He flicked the sickle towards the kneeling man, which sped at the same frightening velocity it had towards Habasi. There was a flash of blood which blossomed in the night sky, and then a stillness. Habasi couldn't move, she couldn't breathe. Her body locked itself into rigidness as her ears picked out the sounds of the chain being withdrawn as long forgotten memories assaulted her mind.

A click. "You know, you've got quite a lovely coat there, kitten. I bet you J'Krivva would give just about anything for it."

A click. "You know I'm not one to be bound to tradition."

A click. "I've no idea why J'Krivva is so jealous. What do you have that she doesn't? Sometimes I wish that we could just work alone…"

A click. "Habasi… When this job is over, and we're doyens, I want to show you something."

A click. "Don't be so damn naive! We're a Thieves' Guild; you've got to have known what was going to happen!"

A click. "Morrowind? Don't be an idiot. You've still got a future here, don't throw it away over such… Personal matters. I thought you could separate your professional life from your—Argh!"

A click. "I'm… Sorry."

The rising anger burst as Habasi howled at the night sky. The figure turned his head as best he could, but before he could react he saw the Khajiit's torch flying through the air towards him. The flame grazed his cloak and continued moving; and he watched the torch with great concern as it continued through the air. By the time it had reached the ground he looked back at Habasi. "You thought to set me aflame?" his voice shook as he turned his head, "A bold strategy, but—!"

Habasi was already in front of him, fury in her eyes and her dagger raised high. She lunged, and he sidestepped out of the way. She kept the momentum up with two quick slices at him which he dodged, his solid frame moving surprisingly fast. Habasi attempted a more powerful thrust at him, growling in anger, but he was too fast. She made a slight stumble as she missed, which was all the opening he needed to slam himself into her back. Habasi felt herself being launched from the deck into the air. Her body flew over the ship like a puppet before she smashed back into the wood again. Her arms and legs flailed as she rolled across the deck until she managed to stop herself. The pain was horrid—as she tried to pull herself back up she realized that her foot must've been broken. As she looked up she could see the figure moving towards her slowly. "Most excellent," he stated, "But as I told you, futile. Make peace with whatever myths you worship; the end is now."

The thief looked about herself. Her dagger was gone; perhaps now sinking into the ocean. The only thing within arm's reach was her still smoldering torch. Looking back, she could see the figure slowly starting to spin his sickle again, shining in its fresh coat of blood. Habasi gritted her teeth as she slowly and painfully rose to her feet. Despite her lack of faith in anything divine, she couldn't help but long for a miracle, because that was about the only thing that could save her…

The silt striders moved across the field of battle unopposed. The wavering legionaries actually moved out of the way to dodge their massive legs, with the occasional connecting axe strike proving totally ineffective, along with any weak spell, magicka depleted thrown by one of the battlemages. The field started to quiet, with soldiers who weren't in immediate danger stopping their attacks and looking in awe at the colossal insects. The beasts slowly came to a halt in the middle of the field, swaying slightly on their oversized legs and moaning woefully in lament over the fallen. For about a minute there was an unearthly calm that descended over the battle. Then, coming from previously unnoted narrow slits in the creatures' carapaces, came the arrows.

Lex was taken aback in shock as bladed rain poured from the creatures, tearing into the already wavering legionaries. The gentle, ethereal noises of the striders were overwhelmed by the new screams of the Imperials, pinned in place by arrows, with the elite Indoril ordinators pressing in for the kill. Next to Lex, Darius was in a near panic. "We need to fall back!" he nearly screamed, "Now. We can't handle these with what we have now!"

"No," Sigrdríf insisted, her voice nearly calm, "We can still win this, and this is our only chance."

Lex glanced to his left, where the wagon was empty. Replacing it were two tall wooden posts erected into the ground, as though the Bretons were attempting to build an exceptionally narrow tower. Scattered about were other large pieces of wood, which were being added to create a form totally alien to the Imperial. Sigrdríf looked at Lex, her blue eyes as frigid and unmoving as ice. "Well, imperator?" she asked, "Will you be brave and valorous and grasp victory, or will you flee as Darius would have you? I swear by my ancestors, if you give me just a few more minutes, my men out there will not have died in vain."

Lex looked to Darius, whose face conveyed extreme disapproval. He looked to the field where the army was desperately fending off the huge beasts along with the Indoril and the remaining Dres cavalry. He closed his eyes in frustration for a few seconds. All he wanted was a moment to think, a fleeting second to weigh his options, to reflect, to make the correct option. But all he could hear were the twangs of bowstrings, the howling sound of arrows, the screams of death; there was no peace. He grabbed at his head in frustration, but before he could think of anything, he felt a hand on his shoulder and his mind quickly rushed back to the waking world, where Sigrdríf stood, waiting for her response.

"… We'll give you your minutes," he said at last.

Sigrdríf smiled, although Lex wasn't sure if there was any true hope to it. For a moment, she seemed like the last snow before spring; bold, defiant, yet doomed to melt regardless of anything it strove to accomplish. He turned his attention elsewhere, to the striders. While four of them were content to wreak havoc from the middle of the battlefield, one in particular started to move. It only took a few seconds for Lex to realize where it was headed. Towards the command camp. Towards him. Darius seemed to realize it, too. "Quickly, get the guard here!" he snapped, "Protect the imperator at all costs!"

The strider was moving quickly now, faster than Lex had seen it in the past. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead as several heavily armored guards appeared at his sides. Darius was yelling orders to and fro, while Sigrdríf's attention was still on her secret weapon. The minutes ticked by as the wooden construct took form, resembling a catapult in some ways, but it was far too tall. During those same minutes the strider grew closer and closer, stepping over any who attempted to attack it, and covering everyone near it with a hail of arrows. Lex noticed balls of fire shooting from the other four farther away, and heard Darius mutter the word "Telvanni…" under his breath.

Soon, the strider was within striking range. It shot a few arrows at Lex's position, most missing widely. Sigrdríf clicked her tongue. "We need more time!" she hissed.

The strider grew closer and more arrows shot from it, these missing a good deal less. Lex's guard closed around him and put up their shields, attempting to form a protective shell around him. As the strider moved to bear its berth, and therefore the majority of its destructive capacity, Lex lost sight as the shield wall overtook him. All he could see were the wooden backings of the shields, but noises flooded his ears. He made out the sound of dozens of bows and the clunking of arrowheads colliding into the steel around him, louder than he had ever heard before—the explosive sounds of fire and burning about him, too… Soon, the occasional shield fell and left a small opening in the defense as the arrows refused to let up, pounding and pounding and pounding upon Lex's position.

Hieronymus Lex realized that if something didn't happen soon, he was going to die.