Chapter 42 - The Disappointing Teaser of Dubious Canonicity that Fails To Get Your Hopes Up For A Sequel


-? ? ?, THE CRYSTAL TOWER, ALINOR, THE LAST DAY OF THE SECOND GREAT WAR-

The Skyrim Embassy had failed us. They'd become complacent, and between the Dragon Crisis, the Legion of the Dragonborn, and the last remnants of our old enemy, the Blades, and their mysterious new Grand Mistress and her unnatural mind magicks, the few that hadn't been subverted and turned against us had been betrayed and destroyed.

The Elder Council had failed us. For all the support we'd given them, for all the supposed politicking and planning those ancient families of Cyrodiil had engaged in, they'd fallen like wheat before the scythe once the Legion of the Dragonborn had marched into the Imperial City.

The Expeditionary Force had failed us. They'd been sent in, only expecting to be peacekeepers, restoring order to a divided empire. Reports hadn't come out of Skyrim in time for them to be aware of the new situation; the first update they received was when the Legions of the Dragonborn charged at them.

The Khajit failed us. We'd relied on their natural adaptation to the sands and deserts to counter the experience of the Redguard in Hegathe, but they too had been able to do little more than delay the inevitable, once Imperial Legions smashed into their flanks. They'd managed to delay it slightly more with the Sacking of Sentinel, but ultimately all they'd bought us was a few months and the undying hatred of the Redguard, who repaid them with interest in Elsweyr.

The Imga had failed us. The Great Apes of Valenwood that revered us had been easy enough to convince, and their mastery of launching overwhelming assaults on the underdefended rears before disappearing back into the trees (perhaps that is why it is called guerilla warfare, after these gorillas...) bought us a little more time than the Great Cats of Elsweyr, but when the Legions began using dragons to fly in supplies rather than traditional horse-drawn supply lines (and the suspected intervention of the Blades), the mighty apes could do nought but fold.

The Bosmer had failed us. Our lesser cousins were talented in archery, stealth, and moving through the trees, but they lacked the aptitude for magic that we had, the strength of the Imga, the natural weapons of the Khajit, and the swordsmanship and will to fight of the Legions of the New Dragonborn Emperor. While they'd been able to delay the Legions with the Imga, they'd honestly never had a chance to turning them back. Their job had only been to buy us time to pull back to Port Woodhearth, to prepare to pull back to the Summerset Isles. As the Legions finally broke through, and the great walking tree-cities of Falinesti, Silvernar, and Eldenroot surrendered, the Bosmer made the ultimate sacrifice, in atonement for their sins. We watched, from the final transport ships out of Woodhearth, as the great forests burned, an impenetrable if temporary barrier between the Summerset Isles and our new and ancient foe.

Auridon had failed us. The ancient Great Barrier that had stoos between us and Tamriel fell in a single night; an uprising by local Bosmer rebels had paralyzed the local garrison, before dragons flew over, dropping off elite strike teams into the cities of Firsthold and Skywatch. That in and of itself would have been devastating enough, but among the strike force had been him: The False God Reborn. The Septim Dynasty Reborn. The Death of Empires. The New Dragonborn Emperor. The Dovahkiin, the Tyant Dovah King. Marius Dragonborn.

Our leaders had failed us. The strength of Man was in how fast they bred, the strength of Mer was in our longevity. They could have spent generations subverting the Empire, weakening it from within. Instead, barely a generation after the first Great War, with our remaining strength still tied down in Hegathe and hunting the Blades, they'd tried to intervene in Skyrim. The Great Solar Flare in the last years of the last Era was still an oft-discussed event, especially considering how the show of Auri-El's power had immediately preceded the rise of the Dovah King. Even if the Great Ward could hold, our supplies would not. Something had to be done...

I shook my head, wondering what was going on, as I found myself in the Council Chambers, within the Crystal Spire. The last thing I remembered was seeking refuge on a transport ship out of Valenwood, and then from within the cabin, a dark voice sounded: "GOL HAH DOV!"

Finally getting some reference point, I looked around, trying to get my bearings. Instead, I got a shock; around me was either my fellow refugees and passengers, or the corpses of the rulers, leaders, and generals of the Third Aldmeri Dominion. Before us lay the Crystal Heart, the largest single remaining object from when the Crystal Tower first collapsed, and the material focus for the Great Ward that protected Alinor. More pressingly, before us lay the Crystal Heart, bare, with most of its defenders bleeding into the ground or dazed and confused.

Before I could rally us, a sharp pain entered my back, before my entire lower body went cold. I found myself sprawled against the floor, unable to get up, as a black-haired woman stepped out of the shadows, traditional Akaviri Blades armor covering her gold-trimmed dark brown robes. Her ebony eyes coldly gave me a once-over, before moving on to study the rest of the room, and finally the giant crystal. I thought I heard a mutter of "this had better work, Alduin", which couldn't have been correct, but then she uttered "Foos", and suddenly the crystal shattered in a wave of energy, sending me flying into the wall. The last thing I saw, as she leapt out of the window, was an impossibly massive brass hammer shimmering into existence, and the impossibly massive brass golem behind it, before it slammed into the Crystal Tower, utterly annihilating it, and everything within.

-TWO MILES EAST OF ALINOR, ONE HOUR BEFORE DAWN OF THE LAST DAY OF THE SECOND GREAT WAR-

From within my tent, I looked out at the last bastion of the Thalmor, noted the great shimmering barrier that still protected it, and sighed, before looking back over the legion that had fought alongside me since my declaration in Skyrim all those years ago. It had grown a lot, admittedly, since Skyrim, and I recognized many banners from Hammerfell, Cyrodiil, Morrowind, and even Auridon and Valenwood. If we broke into the city, I'd have to find a way to keep the Redguard, Auridon rebels, and survivors of Valenwood at the rear, away from most of the fighting and city.

The Redguard had been invaluable in Elsweyr, true, with their expertise in desert warfare matching the Khajits' knowledge of their sandy homeland, but I knew they wanted revenge for the Scouring of Sentinel. Likewise, the Auridon rebels had been for centuries savaged by Alinor purges for not being pure enough, even if their intervention had been vital in establishing a beachhead in the Summerset Isles had taken days and not decades. And the Bosmer, while grateful for our liberation of Valenwood (and subsequent evacuation when the Thalmor razed their cities to the ground), were definitely out for blood after years of Thalmor brutality, if Malborn was any indication. Grudges both new and old sustained them through this conflict, but if I wanted to pacify the High Elves after this conflict (as opposed to driving them to extinction or breeding resentment and sowing the seeds for future conflicts) I'd have to minimize vengeance and "collateral damage". It'd be the only way I'd be able to transition from a wartime rule to a peaceful reign, and hopefully hand my temporary crown over to someone else.

Of course, that all hinged on us actually winning the war, which brought me back to my main problem: how was I supposed to get through the barrier? I'd learned a fair bit from Paarthurnax in the past few years, sure, but he'd spent thousands of years fighting his bloodlust, and his last taste of conflict had been against other dragons; a Shout to shatter a magical barrier was not something he'd have needed to know. Odahviing told me that few dragons had actually bothered to learn about actual magic (Durnehviir was clearly an outlier). Alduin probably could've just flown into the barrier and broken it with sheer force alone, but she didn't strike me as the type to cooperate with me. Also, she was so dead she wasn't even in Sovngarde anymore. Mira might have known a thing or two, but I hadn't been able to Call her out from Sovngarde. And sure, perhaps if I Shouted Unrelenting Forces at it continuously for a week I might eventually create a few cracks, but that would mean I'd be in range of all their defenses, constantly Shouting away my position.

"My Emperor! We've received an encrypted missive!" A feminine voice shouted me out of my reverie, and I favored Lydia an exasperated smile as she knelt in front of me. I'd asked her to dispense with calling me "Thane" once we'd become lovers, but I'd never expected her to use it as an excuse to call me "Emperor" once Cyrodiil had decided they'd needed stability by temporarily crowning a new warlord "Emperor". Her lips curled upwards as she felt my stare, and I knew she was smirking at her success in teasing me.

"Is it from Serana or Valeria? Have they figured out how to crack the barrier?" I asked, giving up on correcting her naming for now, and she got up and tore it open, any hint of amusement replaced by a stoic look. I truly never knew, even after all these years, how she switched between her serious face and her playful face with such ease, but I was at least thankful enough that she'd loosened up enough to play along, compared to our first days in Skyrim. If only Mjoll would learn to be less frigid in public, and a bit more like she was when we were alone...

"No, my Emperor." She said, a surprised look crossing her face, and I raised my eyebrow. She got the hint, and clarified: "It's from the Blades, Marius. They say they'll be taking down the barrier today, at sunrise."

The Blades? Now that was a name I hadn't heard since Skyrim. I didn't even know Delphine and Esbern were still alive, let alone that they'd been keeping an eye on the war. Honestly, I'd thought they were still plotting to kill Paarthurnax and the Greybeards. Then again, though, they were paranoid, and if there was one group they hated more than dragons, it would have been the Thalmor. Made sense they'd want to have a chance to kick their teeth in, even if it meant forgiving me for not being on board with killing Paarthurnax and restarting the Dragon War.

"Do Delphine and Esbern say anything else?"

"My Emperor... this was signed with an "M"." Lydia clarified, and I raised my eyebrow. Clearly, Delphine and Esbern had been busy recruiting, which was a surprise in and of itself; I didn't think the two of them would trust anyone besides me to not be a Thalmor spy. Whoever this M was, though, she was probably well-placed, to be an envoy or secretary. I doubted she'd slept her way into a position of power; the Blades weren't exactly the most powerful of organizations recently, Delphine didn't seem like she swung that way, and I doubted Esbern could get it up, any more. Giving it brief consideration, I shrugged, and replied: "Well, we don't lose anything by trusting the Blades this time. Tell the army to form up and prepare to charge; I'll head to the front, to assess the situation."

Lydia snapped of a crisp salute, and I knew from the twinkle in her eye that she was expecting to be punished for irking me when this was all over. Unfortunately, now was not the time for that, and I picked up my old dragonbone blade in its sheath as I left my tent. Honestly, I'd tried to avoid actually fighting since the first battles in the Imperial City, mostly because I was sane, but in no small part also because there'd been a growing part of me that had begun looking forward to fights, to dominate my enemies, see them driven before me. And it had become increasingly unsatisfied as I smashed apart armies with Unrelenting Force Shouts, as I'd been forced to intervene time and time again to turn the tide of battles. Well, by all accounts, we were looking at brutal close-combat city fighting, even if the barrier fell, and buildings would have to be cleared of fanatical Thalmor individually to prevent ambushes from our exposed rears.

Then again, no matter how much a small part of me wanted to fight, I once again asserted that I was still Marius; I had no qualms about actually fighting, true, but that didn't mean that I ever actually went out looking for a fight. I wasn't insane and irrational, and the only reason Lydia hadn't protested was because she trusted that I'd keep myself safe, and an army between me and the angry elf city.

Of course, once again, fate shat upon my plans and ideas. I was indeed still Marius; sane, rational, and utterly unlucky. All I'd expected as I jogged in front of the entrenchments at the front, the piles of packed dirt that had blocked more than a few dozen scores of Destruction spells, the tunnels our sappers had tried to prepare before they realized that the barrier was spherical in nature, the legions of hardened war-loving elf-killers that were chomping at the bit for the chance to finally breach the city... all I'd expected, at the absolute most, was for the sun to rise over an unshielded city, perhaps give a speech, maybe order a charge or two, and then withdraw to the rear and coordinate the assault via traded missives (luckily I didn't actually have to handle the actual papers; Jordis was more than happy to write and read for me, or else I might've gone mad and actually volunteered to lead the charge, rather than deal with any more paperwork). The more likely scenario I expected to encounter was to merely watch yet another disappointment, and order the continued ineffectual bombardment and starving out of Alinor.

Indeed, as I reached the front, and nodded to Tullius and Ulfric (while deliberately avoiding making eye contact with a stone-faced Mjoll; we didn't need her composure to break and the men to see their general blush at this time, even if it was too dark for any of them to see it), and the sun began rising over a still-shielded city, my keen eyesight picked out the windows of the Crystal Tower's top floor blowing out, seemingly confirming to me the Blades' information. However, instead of the barrier simply falling, or shimmering out of existence, I heard as much as felt and saw a series of familiar undecipherable circle of patterns and symbols, spoken by a disturbingly-familiar Voice. Before I could blink away the uncomfortable feeling of proximity to an Elder Scroll's usage (as opposed to a mere Reading), a... brass colossus shimmered into existence, hammerfist descending down upon the Crystal Tower. The closest comparison I had to it was a Dwarven Centurion, but the Dwarven Centurions I'd fought were 10 feet tall, and crushed rocks to sand. This one was more like 10 hundred feet tall, and turned mountains into rubble. Or, more accurately, annihilated the Crystal Tower so thoroughly there wasn't even dust left. I doubted there was a single man in the army whose jaw remained off the floor, and for a brief second I entertained the thought that Esbern still had a flare for the dramatic (Riften had never repaired the Ratway...). However, the way the colossal Centurion spared us a hostile glance, before moving on to begin rampaging across the city, made me doubt that the Blades were solely responsible for this. At the very least, I was sure Delphine would have used such a weapon as soon as the First Great War broke out.

I turned back to the army, briefly weighed my options, and sighed, looking at the men hanging on to my every word. I trusted them against any army, true, but I doubted that their combined might could even scratch that thing. Unfortunately, it seemed that I had to get personally involved, once again. Turning to my three stunned generals, I barked: "Withdraw the troops! Get everyone back to the transport ships! Tullius, prepare a volunteer force, and on my signal go in and evacuate civilians!"

They instinctively snapped to work at my orders, before Tullius asked: "Wait, Dragonborn, what will you be doing?"

All I could do was give an exasperated smile, and say: "What do you think? I'm going to fight it. Make sure Lydia doesn't come after me. MUL QAH DIIV!"

As the familiar multi-hued ethereal armor shimmered into existence around me, and I felt the rush of waking up once more, I glared at the colossus who was making me have to intervene, sized it up, gauged the rough distance between me and it, and hunched myself over, coiling myself up. With a sharp breath, I kicked myself off, springing upwards and forwards, and flew towards it. It turned towards me in an automata's equivalent of surprise, and a hammerfist rose as it prepared to intercept me, contemptuously bat me away in my hubris.

My Unrelenting Force Shout intercepted its fist first, staggering it and surprising it further. I didn't let the chance go to waste, and as my flight brought me roughly up to the height of its knee, I Whirlwind Sprinted in mid-air, fist reared back and cocked. The Shout propelled me forwards, further adding to my momentum. Between that and my enhanced strength, it rang like a bell as I dented it, making the golem kneel. I didn't have time to celebrate my small victory, or make use of it to climb the colossus and slowly take it apart.

The enraged Centurion roared, the sheer force dislodging me before I could get a grip, and the hammerfist it swung at me struck the ground in front of its knee, the shockwave splitting the earth and throwing up a cloud of dust. That worked in my favor, admittedly, and I frantically began trying to think up a way for me to tip the scales, overcome the hilarious disparity in strength, any sort of distraction I could use to get back on it.

For once in my life, the Divines were apparently listening.

To the North, another roar sounded in challenge, and the world shook as another colossal golem stomped from the horizon, walking through the ocean as easily as an Argonian through a swamp. This one looked more like a semi-rotting corpse than a brass Dwarven Centurion, and I doubted it was here to help me, but, at least, it didn't seem like it was here to help the first golem.

Somehow, though, that wasn't the biggest surprise. Instead, 2 Voices came from the crack in the earth that used to be the Crystal Tower, strong, feminine, and disturbingly-familiar as they simultaneously Shouted: ""MUL QAH DIIV!""

I stared slackjawed as two iridescently-hued women in Blades Armor leapt upwards, before I finally found my voice: "WHAT IN OBLIVION IS THIS?!"


Author's Note: And out of nowhere, have I returned, to celebrate the 2 year birthday of this bastard of a story! The answer was 42, and it turns out the question was "How many poor examples of chapters will I spit out for this abomination of a story".

I'm still unable to commit to writing a full sequel, since I'm sure whatever you imagine is going to be more epic than anything I could write, but more importantly because I neither have the time to dedicate to consistently writing right now, nor the energy to even think up anything new. Indeed, many of my planned stories and in-progress ones had to be canned...

I just love the concept of the Imga. They are, in canon, according to the Pocket Guide to the Empire, a race of Great Apes that live in Valenwood, revere the Altmer, and try to emulate them by wearing cloaks, referring to themselves with titles, and some even shaving themselves completely. Yes, in the home of the Wood Elves, there are gorilla High Elf weebs. No, I am not making that up.

The ending was based on obscure Elder Scrolls lore, that I barely recall: Numidium, the Brass God, was destroyed in the Warp in the West, but also existed in two timelines simultaneously. At the end of the Second Era, as Tiber Septim used Numidium to break the Siege of Alinor. There, a Schrodinger's Numidium situation occured; Numidium broke the siege within an hour, and Alinor surrendered. Also, Alinor fought back hard, and Numidium would go on laying siege to Alinor until the Fifth Era, whereupon he finally destroys Alinor. The Numidium that won in an hour was destroyed. The Numidium that lay siege for centuries has not. Now, with Marius's coronation, it's technically the Fifth Era, and Numidium is brought back by Alduin with the Elder Scroll that broke her hold on time. As in the original lore, Numidium follows it's original orders, and destroys Alinor. And, just as in the original lore, it is no longer controlled by the Heart of Lorkharn and the Mantella, and so it goes rogue and tries to destroy the world. And, just as in the original lore, the Nerevarine returns from Akavir, riding/controlling the Second Numidium, Akulakhan, the colossus that Dagoth Ur tried to build during the events of Morrowind. And, canonically speaking, as is when two physical gods whose primary weapons shatter the fabric of time itself... it's a clusterfuck. Original Numidium destroys most of Tamriel, and the survivors flee (maybe to the moon), but there's bug people who know CHIM in the Sixth Era. So, you know what? I'm gonna invoke deus ex machina. This is, after all, Akatosh's favourite kalpa, supposedly. Alduin successfully banishes Numidium and Akulakhan forward into time with the Elder Scroll, just as they were banished, Marius had 2 dozen kids with each woman in his harem, and the Dragonborn Empire stands for a thousand years before Numidium and Akulakhan return, in time to be defeated by an alliance between the CHIM bug people and the Imperial Legions. Obviously, I'm joking, but this isn't just uncharted waters, these are waters that I'm not even sure have the same damn property as water. Seriously, Elder Scrolls Lore is confusing.