Mychael

When Mychael had been taken from Winterhold and brought to Labyrinthian, he never thought the battle would be this intense.

When Legate Edward had stormed into Labyrinthian from the opposite side from the rest of the army, the clash of steel and the cries of the fallen drowned his ears. But it was when Prince Vaeril had fallen that the battle had truly begun. Men began to lose hope; many had been killed because they lacked the will to fight. Mychael was not among those people; he fought with ferocity, and gave the Draugr no mercy.

Mychael was in the thick of the conflict, the heart of Labyrinthian was where the battle was the most intense. Men screamed as they were slaughtered, and others cried out as they brought down the Draugr before them. Before, the sounds would have haunted Mychael for weeks, but after all that he had been through, it was common. It did not bother him anymore, he had seen what war could do, he witnessed it first-hand. He now understood.

As the sounds of battle filled the air around them, the clear victor was not certain. While many men had died after Prince Vaeril had fallen, there were still far too many that outnumbered the enemy. At least twenty-thousand men still lived on the Legion's side, while perhaps around seven still fought with the Draugr. Mychael hoped the Legion could pull it off, but one could not know what the Draugr had up their sleeve. They were deadly, and Mychael remembered the rider he had seen during the attack on Whiterun. What happened to him?

While Labyrinthian was clogged with battle inside, the walls also still held both Imperial and Draugr forces. Many Legionnaires had gone up the ladders and flooded the battlements until it was a matter of sheer luck and skill in the men fighting to know who would win. No longer did the enemies archers rain down arrows onto the Legion, now it was a fair game. Now they could win.

Mychael stood just near the barrow at the center of the ancient fortress. He had saw a man run in there not long before Prince Vaeril had been struck down, but he could not identify him. It mattered not to him though, whoever had gone inside probably had a good reason to do so. Mychael had to keep his attention on the battle before him, as it would require the best effort he could give.

While he and the Legate were near each other, they both struck down any enemy who opposed them. Still, Mychael could see men mourning over their Prince's death. Even Legate Edward looked saddened, but he kept it together, focusing more on fighting then his emotions. The men loved him, Mychael thought; He would have been their Emperor.

Still, the battle went on, and from the looks of it the legion would come out victorious. There were barely enough Draugr to fully populate the fortress, soon it would be so overrun that there would be no chance of defeat for the Legion. Most of the Draugr were encamped outside of the barrow, but there were a few that stayed atop the walls. None bothered to station inside the structures built by the ancients. Mychael had assumed that they would have taken advantage of the array of buildings that would have proved useful, but perhaps he was wrong.

His blade struck down many, and he was slowly losing the little energy he had from the journey. The journey from Winterhold to Labyrinthian was not a quick or easy one, especially in this type of weather. He did not regret coming though, as this would be a battle sung for years to come. I wonder what they will name it, when it's all over.

He heard cries of death and pain around him, as many of the soldiers had been cut down brutally, without mercy. Yet none of the Draugr took down Mychael or the Legate, as they both had been above average fighters from the looks of it. Mychael had never been s stranger to fighting with a blade, he favored it above all weapons. None were as light and dealt so much damage, the perfect weapon for a Legionnaire.

Arrows rained down, as the next wave of Imperial soldiers rushed in form the gates that had been rammed down not that long ago. Many Draugr fell, yet there were some that had been spared the pain and death, and evaded. Those that did near Mychael had been struck down by soldiers who wanted vengeance for their fallen Prince. Vaeril had inspired the men, and with his death came a new inspiration, the lust for vengeance. Mychael could see it in the men's eyes, even the legate's. They were angry, and Mychael understood. Vaeril had brought many hope, they saw him as the next great emperor when the time came. He could have been great, yet he died saving us, people he didn't even know. Mychael hoped his legacy would live on, as he deserved it.

The battle was coming to a close, as most of the Draugr atop the walls were already destroyed. He looked to the battlements and saw men cheering over their victory, and praising the gods for their help. It was then that the men down below had finally proved that the legion would not be messed with, as the numbers of the enemy grew fewer and fewer, until all that was left were the small amount of Draugr surrounding the barrow.

It seemed like they were guarding something, or someone. How did that man get inside, with so many Draugr around it? It was a question that Mychael would probably never know the answer to, yet he wanted to anyways. Around maybe one hundred Draugr all stood in a circle defending their barrow. And when the legion attempted to break that circle, they all sucked all the air they could, and released a power Mychael could never know. Many were blown back, although thankfully Mychael was not in range.

And then the Legionnaires towards the back raised their bows and drew back the strong, and with one volley sent into the air, dozens and dozens of Draugr had fallen. Then another wave came forward, and another, until all that was left was only a few, and when they tried to flee, the men had struck them down with such strength and anger that Mychael himself had become intimidated.

They…there all gone…Mychael thought, he could not fathom the thought. It had seemed as if this war would go on forever, yet with just a few volleys of arrows it was over. He couldn't believe it, and as he searched the fortress for more enemies, he knew it was true. Yet no one called out in joy, or cheered, most had saddened looks on their faces, and many tried to find the Prince's dead body.

The war…its over…that was all of them…The thought was too good to be true. He wanted to jump up in joy, but he controlled himself. And joined the men who were crowding over Vaeril's body. He didn't know the man, but the men loved him, and if he had not come, Skyrim surely would have fallen.

"Someone should contact the Emperor." Legate Edward has said once the battle was over.

"I wonder what he will say." Mychael said.

"Nothing," the Legate replied, "He usually does nothing when something important happens."

They loved Vaeril more than their own Emperor. Mychael thought, But he died now, so who will they put their trust and faith in now?

Not much, but it's something. I'm expecting only around maybe five more chapters before this is finally finished. Maybe get in one more POV for the characters and then call it a day at last. Hope you enjoyed reading so far.

Can't find a quote, so good day to all, I hope this chapter wasn't too small or disappointing!