I lived with my own demons before Monsotar. Until he showed me that his were bigger and worse.

Chapter 38: The Criminal Watchmaster

The table was riddled with names of the heroes that fought in the last battle against the forces of Mehrunes Dagon. A large slab of carved stone, the Table of Forged Names earned its title. My father and all his cohorts stared at me in awe. There was that brief moment of surprise before the Watchmaster's bodyguards, Bow Syklen and Bow Yesime charged upon the table. They brandished their shortswords against me, but my eyes never left my father. The table was larger than I thought, and I considered it underfoot.

I pushed my sword back into its sheath and raised my hands in surrender. 'Father,' I said. 'The father that believes that his children's outcries are merely a pebble's throw in a lake. Did you know, Father? Did you know what happened to Milkar and Aranwen? They're dead. Monsotar murdered them and burned their bodies right in front of me.' I slipped my cloak over my head to reveal my armor and the various weapons hidden underneath.

'Everyone! Everyone set your weapons aside!' Crestel demanded, standing from his seat.

'What in the darkest part of the Void is this?' Bow Yesime barked.

'Who let her through?'

I turned to Ambassador Angedaen. 'You would find your security a little preoccupied, Ambassador. It would seem Arenthia has a little worm problem.'

'Leila, what is the meaning of this?' Gallant Cousin Crestel looked at me with earnest concern.

I shrugged indignantly. 'You squabble like birds over a berry while Valenwood suffers and bleeds. I suppose, seeing the state of which Valenwood is in, none of you can ever accomplish much.' This time my eyes sat on dearest Uncle Mano. 'I've lost family, my brothers, my friends… because of each and every one of your inability to act.'

'It isn't that easy, Leila,' Crestel said. 'It isn't—'

'You better have a good reason why you've trespassed into this summit, girl. This is no place for a child like you.' Watchmaster Erandil stood finally, his jaw clenched.

'You say I'm but a child yet…I'm the only one to stand against Monsotar and his tyranny. I'm the one that will take his head.' I started to walk towards my father. The Watchmaster's bodyguards charged me, and I whipped to the side. A quick elbow to the face sent Yesime flying off the table. Syklen raised his sword, but I grabbed onto his wrist and elbow and threw him to the side.

'I said halt your advance!' Crestel exclaimed. 'This is the Battlereeve's daughter. If you harm a hair on her head, you will have to answer to him and me.'

'Thank you, Crestel.' I nodded.

'Leila Lockharte, this is a high crime, you're lucky none of didn't just kill you before you landed.' Crestel protested. 'However,' he considered my father, 'I have a hard time he didn't notice you.'

'I commend her bravery,' Treethane Fert chuckled. 'Very interesting, indeed.'

Misplaced anger towards the one person that wanted to act. This laughable summit was nothing but a childish conversation. These heroes, so full of steel, so full of power, are losing control by the day.

'None of you accomplish much because you don't want to,' I told them. 'The very enemy of the Bosmer sits right in front of you, and the best you can manage is a slap on the wrists.'

Of course, I spoke of Aridiil, whose intentions was not to carry out the will of the Aldmeri Dominion, but his own selfish desire to possess the Ghost Flame. I pointed him out easily enough. My father raised an eyebrow. 'I'm not sorry to say, but Aridiil has not just been purging the lives of the Royal Tribes for crimes against the Dominion but killing off certain tribes peculiar to a pattern.' Aridiil and Florentine said nothing. 'The Red Moss, the Raw Tooth, the Parikh, and eventually, the Clemente. You all know these names I speak.'

'We're not going to listen to this…this…worthless rogue, are we?' Watchmaster Erandil gritted his teeth and waved at me all the while bravely looking my father in his eye.

Faeden closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

'You've neglected it for years, Father,' I said. 'Mother's power is highly sought after by individuals at this council. Even the Elder Guard knows.'

Mano began to nod. 'It is true.'

Finally, my father spoke, but it wasn't the word I'd hoped spill from his mouth. 'You've brought nothing but disgrace to the Lockharte name. I should have you arrested and hung for treason.'

'Treason?' I asked, the muscles in my face tensing. 'Treason? Oh, dear Father, but I plan to redeem myself in the best way possible.'

I twisted my body to face the entire war council head on. 'I plan to accomplish what you were all too cowardly to do. I will end Monsotar's reign.'

'You best leave, thug,' Erandil scoffed. 'You'll need an army to do that.'

I laughed heartedly. 'You mean like the one you command?' That shut him up. 'I killed Arian because he gave up. He was one of Monsotar's Crows—one of his top thieves—so I took his life. I ripped his throat out with my bare hands.' I looked down at my hands as if the blood was still there. 'Monsotar keeps the hierarchy in check. He controls Valenwood, not you, not the Silvenar, or the Countreeve, he does. That is why you haven't done anything to stop him. That is why the Tam'Akar, with all their power, conspire with him instead.'

'Why are we allowing her to speak?' Someone roared. And in an instant, the entire chamber erupted in an uproar once more.

'Quiet down.' Faeden crossed his fingers. 'Where is your evidence of this…claim?'

'I've made friends with the survivors of the Red Moss.'

'The girl lies, Faeden,' Aridiil said. 'She has joined with Monsotar. She is one of his top henchmen. She's as traitorous as Arian.'

'Father,' I began, pleading. 'Many things have happened since I left home. It's true, I have garnered the powers of the darkest depths of Valenwood. I've become infamous in this life, but I've only done so for a certain cause. To follow Ara High-Arrow's goals my way. If you all cannot see that; If you all will not help me defeat Monsotar and burn his vast grip on our home, then I will do it myself!'

I withdrew Twilight Talon and aimed it at Watchmaster Erandil. This got a reaction from Father. Laughs erupted, amused murmuring began, and retorts followed. 'I challenge you, Erandil Elm-Pool, for the seat of Watchmaster.'

Treethane Fert was of a class of warrior politicians. Despite his life in the Ranger Guard, in his retirement, he was offered a seat in the Elder Guard before becoming a Treethane. 'Young girl,' he said, shaking his head, 'you cannot challenge the Watchmaster for his office, you must be of the Ranger Guard to do so.'

Uncle Mano expressed his disagreement with a violent shake of his head. 'No, no, my Treethane. She merely has to be a name of notoriety, trained by any warrior recognized for gallantry by the Ranger Guard.'

'But she will never make the vote!'

'Who has she trained under?'

'What does that matter?'

Bicker and bicker. Some of these warriors could take my head in a matter of moments. But here they were, acting as if they were children. It's true, even if Fert didn't know that even if I were to challenge the Watchmaster, approval for such a challenge would need to undergo a vote. It's a good thing that a vote would need to be conducted by the war council, this war council. My chances, however, looked slim. If I've garnered any respect by my uncle and cousin, then I could count a yes by those two. I wouldn't suspect cousin Tuuton to give his vote in my favor, but for this to work, I needed it.

Erandil Elm-Pool sat back in his seat. The Watchmaster was the commander of the Ranger Guard, the highest-ranking officer of the entire fucking elite. Erandil did not strike me as a leader of anything. He was rash and hot-headed, but the Watchmaster came in different shapes, sizes, and souls. In my family alone, there have been several Watchmasters. The High-Arrows and Lockhartes are synonymous with the Ranger Guard.

'Do you honestly believe you are worthy of challenging me?' Erandil asked, smugly smiling. 'It is like they said, you must be a challenger of notoriety if not an archer in the Ranger Guard. You are neither.'

'You seem sure of yourself,' I said. 'You think I am I not notable enough? I am the daughter of Ara High-Arrow and Faeden Lockharte.' I paced down the table towards Erandil. 'I was trained by Rollyn the Special. I am the Black Raven of Shimmer Root, I've certainly floated to the top marks of all your most wanted list across Valenwood. You will give me my challenge.'

'You. Are. A. Criminal!'

'It doesn't matter whether the challenger be villain or hero, the Guardian Pathos of Fall Heir only suggests someone of notoriety,' Father explained with a serious sentiment.

'However, it is true that before the challenge can be accepted, it must be put to the vote,' said the wise Mano the Elder.

'I will accept a vote,' I said.

The others turned to my father.

Prince Basdal glanced around. 'Well, in all my years coming to these useless summits, I've never seen such a thing.' He rubbed the stubble on his chin and shrugged. 'You jump in here, interrupt a summit, which is a crime by the way, and you desecrate a monument to Valenwood's heroes. Leela was it?'

'Lay-la,' I corrected him.

'Leila—excuse me. You've certainly the right, child. For even after you mention your brother's death, I haven't seen your father flinch.' Prince Basdal Camoran tilted his head, his eyes looking up at me. He began considering the others. 'There are similar stories around Valenwood, is there not, my brothers? Monsotar has plagued us for far too long. And it is no secret that Aridiil and his friends kill our own. Imagine living in fear for abiding a life you've lived for generations and being destroyed for it.'

'We've adapted, my prince. That is how we survive.'

The prince shook his head. 'Fert, we made a promise to our brethren that we would protect them and the forest. We should continue that honor.'

Erandil jabbed a finger at me, keeping his voice in a low growl. 'Monsotar has grown far too powerful, even for the Ranger Guard. What difference would you make?'

'You're afraid,' I said. It was more an accusatory statement than anything else.

My father's eyes drifted down to Erandil and his bodyguards. 'The Watchmaster must protect the people.' He turned his glare on me. 'How can we expect that from a criminal?'

'Expect it from a criminal, because your heroes do nothing,' I told him. 'Look at them,' I said, waving a hand around the Table of Forged Names. 'I mean no offense to you all, however, the words I speak bear only the truth. Listen mer; Bosmer, and Altmer, you are all elves of some worth here in Valenwood. You've taken up your weapons; your bows, your swords, and your spells to defend Valenwood and the interests of the Dominion. I have only come here to confide in you all. I've lost a lot for a path I've chosen. It's been hard. I'm done trying to do things off the strength of my own power. I need help. I need to stop the infestation of our home.' I raised my sword high, magicka pulsed through Twilight Talon. The splendor of its power shone through the blade, darkening the chamber, soaking it deep in shadowy half-light. Violet shafts of light emanated from the powerful sword, lighting fear around the room. I dropped the tip of the blade into the stone of the table and watched the lightning cracks travel through the stone. This table held the names of heroes, marks upon marks of Valenwood's greatest. So, let it be clear who is Valenwood's greatest.

A long sigh escaped the aged lungs of my uncle. 'Perhaps you are the one shake-up we've needed. Perhaps you are what we all need, how can we be sure your views are not malicious. A bout for power?'

'That's it!' Watchmaster Erandil punched the table. 'This could be some sort of war between gangs.'

'That is not what I meant, boy.'

'This is blasphemy. You've long passed your usefulness, Mano. You've obviously grown senile.'

'Silence!' Mano strained to push his voice.

Erandil stood. 'You're from a bygone era, Mano. You should watch your tongue when you speak to the Watchmaster.'

'Watchmaster Erandil!' Heads snapped towards my father. I could feel the power emanating from his presence. An oppressive aura filled the chamber, causing chills to run down my spine. I could feel the dread, the pure power. Father spoke with the commanding strength of an elf who been in a thousand battles. This was only just a sliver of the power he held. 'Do you believe yourself more worthy than anyone else in this room? Do you think your little patrol campaigns can compare to the wars we have fought? You're a mere pup compared to everyone else in this room. You're a disgrace to the seat of Watchmaster.'

'I—'

'Silence!' My father's aura surged across the chamber.

'It's always a good day when the Battlereeve starts flexing,' Crestel said with a bit of an amused grin. 'Sorry, Brother Erandil, but traditions are traditions. And since, you haven't proved yourself worth anything, I'm sure most of us are fishing for something real.'

'Shall we vote then?' Mano nodded towards the council. 'For the challenge between Leila Lockharte and Watchmaster Erandil Elm-Pool, I vote for the challenge.'

'I second that motion.' Crestel waved his hand.

Aridiil and Florentine shook their heads. Typically, I didn't expect them to vote in my favor. Perhaps they thought I could win, after all. If a challenge did go through, there's potential I could die in a duel with Erandil. I was sure that would satisfy my enemies that sat at this very table.

'As amusing as I think this all is…Leila Lockharte, it is true that we have failed in bringing justice to those that have abused their power.' He glanced towards the three High Elves. 'However, your path as a criminal is not the right way in doing things. You should have stayed your course and joined the Ranger Guard. It was good enough for Ara, why isn't it good enough for you?' He shook his head slowly and adverted his gaze. 'You do not have my vote.'

'Bow Syklen? Bow Yesime?' Mano turned his wrinkles towards the two Ranger Guardians. 'How do you vote?'

Five no's and only 2 yeses' so far. It wasn't looking good. The Leucrota, Sultel and his worms, Rindiel and those who would follow me, and even Elren and the Rovseed were not enough to beat Monsotar. To destroy him, I needed an army. I needed the Ranger Guard.

'I vote yes,' Prince Basdal said, nodding.

'Y-Your voting for some thief to challenge me!' Erandil's protests were starting to annoy me.

'A no from Erandil,' Crestel said, chuckling. 'Next?'

Tuuton Lockharte shared the infamous Lockharte hardy mask, a face resilient to emotion. Tuuton the Bow, whether that meant for the rank he bore in the Ranger Guard, or his skills with the bow, it didn't matter. 'You share the Lockharte blood, and it isn't like we haven't had elves of the Lockharte clan do interesting things in the past. Isn't that right, Faeden? I vote for the challenge.'

'This is nothing more than Bosmeris cultural absurdity,' Angedaen said, calmly. 'A simple vote can allow a terrorist to become the commander of your entire army? Perhaps Lord Nethilvere had the right idea… I will vote against this ridiculousness.'

I gripped the hilt of my sword. Coming here was difficult. Standing before my father and the strongest warriors in Valenwood was difficult. But I knew what must be done. Monsotar had to die, and his entire network routed and destroyed. These so-called heroes of Valenwood sit as obstacles in my path.

'It seems that the majority does not want you to challenge the Watchmaster, Leila. The Guardian Pathos of Fall Heir allows you to challenge any office. Perhaps a Bow will be more suited…' Crestel suggested.

'I cannot settle for anything lesser than the Watchmaster. Valenwood can no longer be trusted in your hands.'

'Do not count the girl out, my boy.' Mano interjected. 'Our friends from Elsweyr has yet to cast their vote.'

Battlereeve Do'ava and his three generals straightened at the mention of their homeland. Their slit eyes considered everyone in the room individually. The Khajiit were meticulous people, but they were proud and largely peaceful. They made fierce warriors, but only when needed. They were much like the Bosmer in a way. They commune with the forces around them, respected it, and they did not like when people impede on their ways. It is only ironically, we've allied ourselves with the impeders of impeders. Some would say the Altmer forced us into this alliance, others would argue and say we joined the Dominion willingly. I don't know a soul who would ask for all this willingly.

Do'ava raised a furry hand, his claws were like sharpened knives ready to cut flesh. 'Khajiit cannot vote on Bosmer affairs, no. Khajiit is unsure this is wise.' He looked back at his generals, who nodded in agreement. 'Do'ava does not want to vote—should not vote. Khajiit shall forfeit four votes to Battlereeve Faeden. This one's love for her home is that of genuine love. Strength resides behind those eyes, Khajiit can tell. Khajiit hopes the moons will shine upon you and your path that lies in darkness.' He nodded and looked towards my father. 'This one's fate is in your hands, Battlereeve Faeden.'

Faeden accepted the course with a frowned nod. My father, who always looked unbothered, seem to wear weight on his shoulders now. It was a different part of him that I've seen rarely, but I knew that he considered this all. I held only four votes. He was the single deciding factor on break the shackles that Monsotar has tethered to all of them. Something told me that he knew this. My father was no fool—not even Crestel was half as strong as he was—and his words could start a war or end it. Everyone awaited his answer, but no one dares to tell him anything.

Finally, Father's eyes met mine again. We spoke through our souls, two warriors meeting in a clash of auras. Was I worthy, Father? Am I truly your child, or am I some large disappointment you'd rather toss to the wayside? I didn't want to follow the path you set up for me: Train my hardest, become strong, join the Ranger Guard, and become the Watchmaster. Here I am but on my own terms. For my own reasons.

'Leila Lockharte, I will vote in your favor,' Faeden Lockharte said standing. 'I will vote because you are a Lockharte, you are a High-Arrow, and you are a warrior. And I will allow you, as my daughter, to redeem herself. But…' He stopped the outcry before it started. '…if you fail, you will be outcasted for the rest of your life. Do you understand?'

I nodded.

Erandil stood with a peal of uneasy laughter. 'Right. Of course, her very own father would give her this challenge. You've all grown mad. But I'll give her the fight she so deserves. I'm going to kill her right in front of you, Battlereeve. And I'll put her head on display to remind you what you did to your own daughter.'

'You're going to need to use a weapon of the Ranger Guard,' Father said.

'She can use mine.' Crestel stuck his leviathan bone shortsword in the stone. I sheathed Twilight Talon and took up the light sword.

Watchmaster Erandil withdrew his shortsword made of Iron-Bark. It was the badge of office, to wield Iron-Bark. Another reminder that the Ranger Guard was and always will be a legacy of the Lockharte clan.

'It shall be a fair fight. You will only engage in single arm combat—No use of magicks, no enchantments, and no knives. The only authorized weapon is either the Ranger Guard standard shortsword, or the Watchmaster's badge of office.' Crestel shrugged. 'You may kill your opponent, however, for the sake of all of us here, don't. We're not shy to blood, but we'd rather not clean up a bloodied body.'

Erandil leaped onto the table. An acceptable stage for the next step in my revolution. Erandil was young. No more than five years my senior. The Watchmaster's line knew many young and old warriors to hold the Iron-Bark shortsword. Through his tight-lipped smile, I could see the snarl forming. And then he took his stance. His forward arm straightened, sword arm drew back. Those frightful, angry eyes turned dull, and all emotion slithered away. One couldn't expect anything less from a leader of the elites.

'This isn't personal, Erandil,' I said. 'My revolution is for all of us.'

'When you threaten my status as the Watchmaster, and the longest peace Valenwood has seen in over a century, then I tend to take it personally. I don't care if you're the Battlereeve's daughter. I'm going to make you pay for the humiliation you've shown me today.'

Erandil pounced, he was fast, probably the fastest I've ever seen, but his attack was far too rushed. I batted his strike away. I drowned out the jeers and cheers from the others. If I didn't focus, I could die. Erandil came in strike after strike, this time more calculative and more dominating. He lunged in, meeting my parry, but he followed through with a shoulder smashing against the bridge of my nose. I retreated back towards the edge of the table and ducked under a slash across my chest. My sword sang a heavenly song as I eased in a high outside. Erandil expected it and kicked my chest with a devastating blow. I retreated again and reset my stance.

'What's the matter, Leila Lockharte?' He asked. 'This harrowing performance is undeserving of the Lockharte name.' Erandil shrugged arrogantly. 'Perhaps your father was wrong for sending you away to, who was it that trained you, oh right—Rollyn the Special, wasn't it?'

I lunged in, pivoting my foot, and churning my sword. He jumped away and pounced in with a counter, cutting a long, red line along the shoulder of my sword arm. I bit back the pain and spun on my heel, swinging straight for his neck. Erandil's guard was up in a flash, but I dropped my weight and kicked into his neck. He faltered backward with a grunt. I had to take advantage of that moment; I needed to. I kept kicking, hopping from one foot to the other, flurrying with a barrage of strong kicks to the Watchmaster's head. I tightened my grip on Crestel's sword and brought it down across his torso, cutting through his leather's buckle. Finally, he gathered his senses and knocked away my finishing move with his own blade. I snaked my hand around his sword arm, curling in close towards him until our lips were so close, we could kiss. I cocked my head backward and slammed my head into his mouth. He spat blood across the table's surface.

Erandil wrinkled his nose, lips contorting into a snarl. He had the steely gaze of a warrior that has seen hundreds of victories. 'At this rate, you won't win, you understand?'

I replied by pulling the shortsword to my face, making a direct dissection of my face. By bringing the sword straight down and pushing my arms straight out, curtsying a bow. The Ranger Guard salute garnered chuckles from the spectators. Erandil, however, didn't find it as amusing.

Erandil charged in, and I stepped out of his way. Rage flared across his face as he heaved. He came in again and again, but I saw his attacks clearly and deflected every one of them. As his anger grew, his form became sloppy.

Some of us were used to anger. It filled us up with its poisonous fire, gave us focus and clarity in battle. But to others, it dulls their senses and makes the most calculative warrior become nothing more than a brute.

Erandil reared for his final attack. He swung in, the Iron-Bark blade cutting through the air. I danced into his defense; my back bumping against his chest. His body tensed, and his breathing stopped short of a breath. I spun with the shortsword outstretched and cut clear across his belly. A finishing blow.

Yesime and Syklen attempted to hop across the table but were stopped by Crestel and Prince Basdal. 'If you want to walk out of here alive with your honor intact, I suggest you two return to your seats,' Basdal warned, tapping the hilt of his sword.

'How?' Erandil asked through bloody teeth. 'A girl as young as you?'

'I used to fight for a selfish desire. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was as strong as my mother, but it got a lot of people killed. My brothers, and even people I promised to protect,' I told him. 'But now, I fight for something more. Something more than myself. I fight for Valenwood. And even though I don't serve it in some honorable office like my father would ask of me, I still fight for these forests in my own way. I am no longer just some little girl trying to please her parents. I am the Black Raven, and this is my revolution.'

The chamber grew silent. Erandil dropped to his knees, holding his wound, his blood spilling onto the Table of Forged Names.

'Save him,' I said. The two Bows grabbed their ex-Watchmaster and pulled him to the ground, healing magic sparkling around their hands. I turned to my father. 'Are we all satisfied?'

Faeden Lockharte stood from his seat, his face unreadable. 'You still need to be christened by the Silvenar. Before then, you are Watchmaster in name only. You do not lead the Ranger Guard just yet.'

'Thank you, Father.'