The Elders Scroll

The Illiac's bay was an inland sea separating Hight-Rock (to the north) from Hammerfell (to the south). A dozen large commercial cities stood on the shores of this sea. Ships loaded to the brim used daily the great trade routes crossing the Illiac's bay to export forged steel weapons to Sentinel as far as Cambria, spices from Stros M'Kai to Alcaire, cloth woven to Daggerfall in Phrygios, wheat from Daénia in Menevia, elven weapons forged in the Autumn Archipelago in Wayrest and many other things.
It was not necessary to leave the Academy of the Magi of the Imperial City to understand that the Bay of Illiac saw the passage of great riches... and was the object of much covetousness.
One of these riches was the gold of the Duchy of Gavaudon.

This duchy was to the east of the kingdom of Menevia. It was one of the many minor nations which served as an apple of contention between the three great states dominating the bay: the Redguard kingdom of Alik'r as well as the kingdoms of Daenia and Menevia, both populated by Bretons.

At the time of our story, the duchy of Gavaudon was a vassal of the kingdom of Menevia. This state of affairs hardly pleased the king of Ephesus, whose kingdom extended east of the Gavaudon to the Druadach mountains, that is to say, to the border with the Nord kingdom of the Reach.

Menevia and Ephesus had clashed in Gavaudon for centuries. They used diplomacy, marriage rings, poison, and the assassin's dagger to push their pawns.

Periodically, one of the two players lost patience and the latent conflict turned into a bloody war.
But for the time being, the loads of gold that the king of Ephesus coveted made their way once a month to the west, accompanied by two hundred soldiers of the duchy of Gavaudon. Arriving at the border with the Menevia, the convoy's escort was replaced by such an important troop of the famous Guards of Wayrest. This wealth proved more than useful while we had a kingdom to rebuild.

Nevertheless, this month's load of gold had not crossed the border! It had already happened that there were delays, but never before had Duke Oren de Gavaudon failed to notify King Eadwyre de Menevia of a delay in delivery. But no messenger had arrived. Moreover, the two hundred Guards of Wayrest sent to the border to escort the convoy had not returned to make their report.

After waiting two weeks, the king's wife, the Dark Elf queen Barenziah, advised to send a military expedition to the duchy. If it were only a minor incident, reminding Duke Oren of the military power of Menevia would help him to quickly solve the problem. If orc looters - or any other enemy of Menevia- had attacked the gold convoy, sending soldiers would no doubt be useful to restore order.
Barenziah proposed to entrust the new count of Maumont with the command of this troop. Artoria Pendragon had already saved the kingdom once. Who else was more capable than her in Menevia?
Despite the whispers of the courtesans, King Eadwyre immediately sent messengers to warn Artoria of her new mission.

A small troop of two hundred men marched eastward.

These men were dressed in chainmail under a white tabard emblazoned with the three yellow roses of the kingdom of Menevia. Their conical helmet was surmounted by a long point and lined with fur. An aventail of mail covered their head leaving only the face apparent, except the nose hidden by the nasal of their helmet. They had long white or green capes.

In this part of Tamriel anyone would have recognized this uniform, it was the Guards of Wayrest, an elite troop that served the King of Menevia.

A half of the Guards of Wayrest was armed with a long spear and a shield in the shape of an ogive, the rounded part pointing down. The others wore a large quiver filled with arrows and a composite bow made of horn, wood, and leather. All had broadswords.

The landscape they crossed looked like an ocean of gold. The wheat rose to the neckline of the horse-scouts who radiated around the main column. Not a tree made a shade under the warm sun that cooked the soldiers in their armor.

The troop advanced, lifting the dust from the road. On their way, the peasants greeted them with enthusiasm and the travelers placed themselves on the side. The royal banners, the music of the drums punctuating the advance, inspired a deep admiration among all the inhabitants.

During their journey, the Guards of Wayrest had met only peaceful hamlets and small towns enclosed in their walls. The country they were visiting had hitherto been spared conflict. Even the Orcs raids had not gone so far east during the last invasion.

Every evening, at the bivouac, Artoria Pendragon invited the village leaders and the notables of the cities to question them. Some remembered the coming of the escort sent by the king to meet the gold's convoy of Gavaudon. However, the soldiers had only passed without stopping. At least they confirmed that this troupe had followed the road now taken by the Count of Maumont. When Artoria asked if any soldiers had returned, no one could answer her. As for the rest, she did not receive from them only information without interest. The brigands did not approach the villages. There were only a few small bands who were content to ransom the travelers. The locals were expecting an excellent harvest, it had not been too cold this winter and spring had given them the right amount of rain and sun.

Such happiness was a pleasure to see and the many laughing children who ran alongside her horsemen should have appeased the count. Yet... everything seemed too normal and in these circumstances this very normality became worrying. A troop of two hundred men could not disappear like that! Artoria could not imagine a situation that seems so many individuals evaporate without one of them surviving long enough for at least one rumor to reach the ears of those who were looking for them. There was nothing there...

Artoria shook her head as if to cast away the doubts that were insinuating in her. Too much thought was useless. Hearing the race of a horseman ascending the column, the woman horseman turned to see an officer in armor, quiver clinging to the saddle of his horse, slowing down, the latter rose to the height of his superior.

"My Lady, you have asked to be informed of any unusual encounters. Our scouts report that they discovered a horse-drawn carriage surrounded by horsemen wearing the armor of the Imperial Legion. They claim to be the escort of a priest of the White-Gold Tower Ancestral Moth."

Artoria frowned, his forehead wrinkled. The Ancestral Moth? That name vaguely reminded her of something... Wasn't it a monk's order devoted to Julianos, the god of writing and literature? These monks were the only ones who had the ability to read the Elder Scrolls, sacred scrolls written by the gods and containing their wisdom. Anyone who was not trained to read these scrolls would go mad or blind, it was said. Of course, these monks lived in Cyrodil... what could one of them do in High-Rock?
"All right, Captain Dunoryan, let's go say hello to this character."

The imperial horsemen were impressive.

They wore a helmet similar to the Corinthian helmet used by the ancient Greeks with a black horsehair crest. The mouth was protected by a thick mesh.

The rest of their armor resembled that of the Roman legionaries with a short red cape, greave, heavy wrist guards, and a skirt made of a band of leather that went down to the knees. They were armed with spears, short swords, and a diamond-shaped metal shield hanging from the saddle.

Their horses also wore armor.

Their leader greeted, by punching at heart level. However, the officer's voice was hardly amiable:

"Greetings to you, I am the tribune Aurelianus Segunevius."

"Greetings to you Tribune, I am Artoria Pendragon Count of Maumont. Welcome to Menevia. May I inquire as to the reasons for your presence?"

"Artoria Pendragon," the officer said. "Would you be the one who lifted the siege of Wayrest and defeated Orsinium's army?"

"It was I."

The face of the tribune Segunevius was invisible, so it was impossible to see the effect of this revelation, but his voice was more respectful when he spoke again:

"It's too bad there aren't more people like you in High-Rock, ma'am!"

As always, Artoria's face showed nothing, but the two horsemen who escorted her were imperceptibly stiffened. The Imperials often considered the Breton with a sense of superiority mixed with annoyance. Among the provinces of the Tamriel Empire, High-Rock was one of the most agitated. There was always a war in progress and not a kingdom was spared by very complicated court intrigues.

"You have not answered me, tribune Aurelianus Segunevius. What are you doing in Menevia?"

Leaning slightly, the officer drew a rolled paper from one of his fonts:

"By the Lex Tiberius, the Elders Scrolls are on the sole authority of the Order of the Ancestral Moth, which is responsible for keeping them and writing down the prophecies to guide the Empire and His Imperial Majesty. Therefore, I must escort the monk of the Ancient Phalene Amiel Sula, the latter being responsible for obtaining from the king of Menevia that he cedes the Elders Scroll which holds in his vault."

Artoria nodded after checking the imperial seal on the scroll. King Eadwyre would probably not be very happy to learn that one of the treasures of the kingdom was requested by the Emperor. After all, if he had not already given the Scroll of the Ancients to the Emperor, he probably wished to keep it.
While they were chatting, the sun had fallen on the horizon.

"Tribune, I would be honored if you would accept my hospitality for the night."

"Gladly, my lady."

Upon the arrival of the night, the Guards of Wayrest settled by the roadside while sentries were appointed to watch the surroundings. While some setup tents, others cut wood or lit fires for the kitchen. Soon the large bronze cauldrons were drawn from the chariots of the intendancy. The evening meal consisted of lentils and bacon cooked together. We ate this meal with black rye bread, goat cheese, and sour wine. The soldier's ration was nothing like a gourmet buffet, but it was a robust menu that appeased hunger.

Unhappy, Artoria sat around a fire, sharing the platter of soldiers. In the country, a lord had to live like his men. Nothing attracted the sympathy of men more than to have a leader who shared their daily life.

Nevertheless, the legendary King Arthur felt melancholy. Shirou missed her... especially at the time of meals... a pure coincidence, isn't it?

Feeling someone sitting next to her, Artoria raised her head.

Dressed in a very simple grey dress and leather sandals, a great old man had just settled in. He had the ascetic face and eyes illuminated by a strange glow, like that of a man who had seen things normally inaccessible to mortals. Although he was almost bald, his white beard was thick and descended to the middle of his chest:

"Ah, lady Artoria."

"I suppose you are Amiel Sula, the monk escorted by the imperial horsemen."

"Absolutely, ma'am." The monk seemed to think for a moment and then leaned slightly upon her. "My question may sound harsh, but... do you believe in luck?"

Artoria's face remained impassive in appearance, but she rose slightly:

"In other words, holy monk, you ask me if I believe that the gods intervene in the lives of mortals. The answer is positive, of course. However, everyone keeps control of his life. The gods only point the way. The destination we create ourselves, through our decisions. We are responsible for our lives."
Amiel Sula had acquiesced to almost every word, smiling:

"You're surprisingly wise for someone so young."

"Beware of appearances, holy monk."

"I also agree on this point." The imperial monk stopped for a moment, pinching his lips as if hesitating... sighed... then went on to say:

"Something very strange happened to me. Two days ago, a Khajiit stopped the horsemen escorting me. He said his name was M'Aiq the Liar. He held an Elders Scroll in his hand and wanted to give it to me..." The Monk shook his head again in disbelief. "I don't know if you understand what an Elders Scroll is. It is a fragment of divine wisdom to which material form has been given to make it accessible to mortals! They're incredibly rare, very dangerous to use, and... those who find them keep them safe. So meeting a Khajiit who gives one... like this... it never happened to me."

"Odd indeed." approved Artoria. Strangely, she felt uncomfortable, apprehensive about what Sula was going to say.

The monk was smiling:

"The strangest thing is yet to come... M'Aiq the Liar then told me that I should read it to someone I would meet soon."

He kept quiet for a moment and looked at Artoria with a very serious look:

"You know, I spent years in the Register Room of the White-Gold Tower preparing myself before each reading... In contact with the Scrolls, I developed a great intuition... I know that it is for you that I must make this reading. It became obvious to me as soon as I saw you."

Artoria sighed... exactly what she had feared:

"And you trust a Khajiit named M'Aiq the Liar?"

That made Sula smile:

"After years of studying the Scrolls, I learned a fundamental truth. The Scrolls contain mostly lies. And yet everything is true in what is written... especially the lies."

Amiel Sula had spent a long time preparing for the reading of the Scroll. The object looked like a simple cylinder of an ivory-like material with two handles of a metal that was not gold.

However, Artoria had retained a strong sensitivity to magic because of her past incarnation as a Servant. And the object before her was like the weapons of Shirou and Archer... an illusion that had become real. Yet, the World did not erode it. A prodigy that was only possible for a god...

Pulling with one hand a long sheet of parchment rolled up inside the ivory cylinder, Sula looked at the letters that appeared and disappeared, the strange signs, the bright cracks. The expression of his face became strange and distant:

"Let me concentrate... I see... I see... an invisible moon... in conjunction with Maser and Secunda, an eclipse! Formidable conjunction... a rare event... weakening the pact... the Direnni towers that support the barrier raised by the gods... weakened. A night of conjunction where the reality of the Mundus will be more easily penetrated by the forces coming from Outside... I now see a cellar... no, an underground temple... a young woman... a dagger... a ritual under the invisible moon... I see... I see... I SEE NOTHING ANYMORE!"

Screaming with pain, Amiel Sula held her hands to her eyes, releasing the parchment and collapsing on the ground!

The imperial soldiers rushed to rescue the old man. He groaned and when Artoria approached, he extended a hesitant hand toward her... in the old man's face, the eyes had become entirely white.

Shocked, the young woman grasped the old man's hand in hers:

"You are blind!"

"These things can happen, but... listen to me, Artoria Pendragon. There's more important. You must not let my ultimate vision come true... it would be the end of Tamriel... no, of Nirn as a whole!" the voice of the old man turned into a barely understandable empty speech: "IT will come... through the door... sacrifice... prevent it... THIS must not come on our world!"

"What are you talking about, holy monk?"

Artoria was trying to understand but an inner voice suggested that she already knew the answer. The old man sought to straighten himself, pressing his hand tightly, his blind eyes rolling wildly in his orbits. He burst out with a hysterical, drooling and sputtering:

"I have seen him... Merciful Gods... and this vision I would take in death... All the World Evil!"

Saber rested the pen. She had hastened to write the detail of the prophecy of the Elders Scroll before forgetting it.

In the darkness of the camp, the tribune Aurelianus Segunevius approached:

"Amiel Sula has finally calmed down. I think his mind has been touched as much as his sight..."

Artoria shook her head and pinched her lips:

"I am sorry. It is a very expensive way to pay for a prophecy that does not tell us where the ritual in question will take place."

Segunevius agrees:

"On the other hand, I can tell you that this door to the Outside will open in twenty days."

"Sorry?"
"The conjunction will take place exactly in twenty days." repeated the tribune.

"The conjunction of the three moons?" said King Arthur, "But Nirn has only two moons."

Aurelianus Segunevius shook his head:

"I was stationed in Elsweyr, the country of the Khajiits. And I can assure you that Nirn has three moons, even if we only see two. First of all, the legends of the cat-men affirm it. But, above all, you know the peculiarity of this species?"

"Did you mean that the appearance of a Khajjit depends on the position of the moons at the time of birth?"
"Exactly" approved the tribune. "The diversity of appearances adopted by the Khajiits would be much less if there were only two moons. The Invisible Moon does exist."

Artoria looked at the Imperial with a little amazement:

"An invisible moon... You mentioned legends, what do they say?"

"That the invisible moon is a prison where the daedric princess Azura is said to have imprisoned the 'moon monster', an evil entity that would seek to free itself. Some say the Invisible Moon was the jail of Lorkhan and one day he will escape."

Lorkhan? Tamriel's Lucifer... this is a very evil moon, indeed!

At the first rays of the sun, some of the men began to undo the camp, while others took care of the water chores. The first soldiers to leave were the scouts, behind them the bulk of the troop set in motion, leaving the Imperials there.

As the day progressed, the landscape began to change. The wheat fields gave way to a landscape of small, bleak hills covered with dry brushes. They had crossed the border the day before and only noticed it today. It was the Gavaudon Rolling Hills.

Since morning, the grey clouds were slowly rolling in the sky. During the afternoon, however, they began to thicken, announcing a storm that was already illuminating the clouds with brief bursts of lightning accompanied by the rolling of distant drums.

The first drops struck in isolation, leaving wet tracks on the pebbles around the column that was moving eastward. Then, without warning, the cumulonimbus died in such a tight shower that the landscape seemed to dissolve just a few steps away from the soldiers. The latter, quickly soaked, was as if haloed by the rain that hammered their helmets and armor.

The elite fighters continued to advance without complaint. They had seen much worse than a storm. As a bolt of lightning struck an isolated tree, horses pitched up. However, no horseman emptied his saddle and the mounts were skillfully controlled.

Shortly afterward, as Artoria speculated that the afternoon was coming to an end, two scouts returned, recounting having discovered ruins. The Count of Maumont listened to their report. The soldiers had found a temple dating from the Direnni Hegemony. The building looked like a rotunda surrounded by columns and still seemed solid. The King of the Knights ordered her men to follow the forerunners to the building. Saber hoped that the temple could offer dry sleep to all who might enter.
The dome rose to the top of a flattened hill. Brambles had grown and invaded the chipped walls that surrounded the sanctuary. Trees split the pavement and some columns were lying on the ground. In the center of the main square was a statue at the top of an imposing pedestal. The wind and rain had covered the old warrior with a patina, broken his sword as climbing plants covering him. Collapsed walls testified that the temple had been surrounded by other buildings for a long time ruined.
However, as the scouts had announced, the dome itself was still solid and the interior was dry, although full of dead leaves and spider webs.

"All right, we'll sleep here tonight!"

"Get up! Get up! We are under attack!"

The alarm calls of the sentries drew Saber from a dream-less sleep. The awakening immediately plunged her into a nightmare. The men left their blankets, arming themselves in an emergency. Those who guarded the perimeter, and had prevented the Menevian soldiers from being caught by surprise, retreated into the temple.

The rain made a curtain in the night darkness. However, the neighing of the horses, the sound of cavalcade in the mud, made it possible to guess the presence of a troop of cavalry that hovered around the temple.

Suddenly, a shower of arrows appeared from the shadows. The arrows bounced back on the walls or wounded the defenders who were gathering.

"To the Spearmen, interlock and form the Testudo!"

It was Artoria who had just issued this order. Disciplined, her soldiers obeyed. While the first row of dismounted horsemen placed a knee on the ground raising a shield wall, a second (standing behind them) imbricated his own so as to constitute a high bulwark. The third row held their shields in two hands, obliquely, in order to protect the heads of the combatants.

A second volley of arrows crashed on the obstacle with the same noise as hail on a roof of tiles.

"Archers... Fight back"!

Flowing, the sword extended to the furtive silhouettes that swirled among the squalls, Saber coordinated the retaliation. The composite arcs fired their projectiles with unthinkable force. In the battles, archery was used to bombard a given area, by saturation. It was therefore not necessary to aim with precision. When Count of Maumont heard the cries of pain and surprise that resulted from the attack, she nods. The attack had borne, sowing chaos among the mounted archers who attacked the old elf temple. Arrows that did not hit their targets crashed into the ground, hindering enemy maneuvering.

Even if the rain loosened the bowstrings, decreasing their power, and the night hid the enemy, the situation was not so bad. The soggy terrain slowed and exhausted the assailant, favoring the defender. In addition, the Elf temple stood on a hill with a flat top and steep brambles. Drums began to beat in the darkness. This sound made Artoria flinch... She had never heard of highwaymen playing drums. They were regular troops!

Saber focused on the present moment. The beat of the drums would indicate a change in tactics. The surprise attack of the mounted archers had had little effect, and her swift and murderous response must have cooled the enemy's ardor. Moreover, the fact that the opposing leader changed tactics so quickly clearly showed that she was not dealing with an amateur who could be taken lightly.

As lightning brutally illuminated the battlefield, the King of the Knights clearly saw a square of infantry flanked by shields advancing in Testudo formation, towards her positions.

Immediately Artoria distributed new orders. While the archers concentrated their shots against this new adversary, she took command of the defenders.

The shock was of a rare violence. The opponents - more numerous - struck immediately, despite the advantage that the slope offered to the defenders. Artoria faced a colossus wielding a blood-stained scimitar that had just killed two of her men one by one.

Saber brandished Excalibur, wrapped in its wind sheath. The clash was brief. At the first blow, she opened the opponent's shoulder. At the second crossing of the blades, she blew his head off his shoulders, before rushing forward... disappearing to reappear in three different places like a fuzzy shape.
Following their leader, the Guards of Wayrest launched a violent counter-attack. Amidst the shouts of war and the clash of arms, the Menevians brutally pushed the assailants down the hill. However, some of the enemies had taken advantage of the confusion to slip into the horse pen. Until Artoria finds out, it was too late. Frightened by the shouts of the attackers and the torches they were waving, the mounts had fled.

A trumpet ringing, sounding the retreat, perfectly disciplined, the enemy fighters abandoned the fight, receding in order, one element covering another.

The storm stopped before the day rose. The first rays sparkled on the raindrops still hanging from the edge of the roofs and on the brambles. The birds sang.

Yet the dawn revealed the horror of the battlefield. The corpses of men and horses littered the ground among arrows planted in the ground and abandoned weapons.

Artoria Pendragon looked at the three closest bodies.

They were Redguards dressed in a red uniform with a conical helmet surrounded by a turban. One of them had a scale mail and the other two had leather jackets as armor. Two of them had circular shields painted in bright color forming a vaguely decorative pattern. The third had an almond shield decorated with the design of a scimitar accompanied by an indecipherable sentence. The dead were armed with a real arsenal: a lance for each of them, as well as a scimitar, a winged mace, or a curved dagger.

A soldier approached Artoria:

"Ma'am, a total of eleven horses has come home. Others may come back if we wait."

Wait? There were only nineteen days left before the conjunction. If Amiel Sula's prophecy turned out to be true, a catastrophe would happen at that time.

"I want the senior unit leaders to join me."

"At your order, Lady Artoria."

The Count of Maumont faced the two commanders of a hundred men and their immediate assistants:
"Gentlemen, the enemy seems to be doing everything possible to slow us down. If we continue towards Wind Keep, they will harass us and we will be slaughtered. Infantrymen are an easy target for mounted archers. Return to the nearest city and warn His Majesty. Ten men will come with me. It is obviously no longer possible to win with such small numbers. However, I hope to investigate quietly and inform King Eadwyre. I am counting on your diligence!"

The men saluted together, though without enthusiasm. Artoria gave them a situation report for the king of Menevia. The time was now limited, and the King of Knights could not waste it by useless procrastination. As her horse was brought to her, Saber again urged her subordinates to return as quickly as possible to Wayrest.

After riding for several hours, the King of Knights and her escort reached a crossroads. After a slight hesitation, Artoria opted for the most direct route, straight east!

When the scorching sun took on a purple hue, Wind Keep was to be only fourteen miles away. The terrain had also changed a lot, the grassy hills had given way to cultivated fields and woods.

The next day, escorted by eight soldiers, Artoria Pendragon rode her horse along a forest road. The large trees cast their shadows on the dirt road, silhouetted by the morning sun that appeared at times between their foliage. The day promised to be warm and the insects hidden in the thickets made their songs heard in the thick air.

For a while, the military expedition would have looked like a simple summer stroll. The soldiers struggled not to let their attention drift away. Saber was as distracted as they were. However, she did not forget that the canopy's shadows could be suitable for an ambush.

After a long journey along the main road, the sight of a burning carriage, abandoned on the side of the road, dispelled the impression of tranquility felt until then. Artoria was an expert in the art of war. Her first order that morning was to send two soldiers as scouts. They were instructed to turn around and report any unusual findings. But... the forerunners had not returned to report the wagon. An unpleasant shiver ran through the young woman's neck. Unconsciously, she slowed down her mount, looking all around.

Trunks... thickets... the sound of the wind in the branches... the forest was so dense and obscure that the gaze hardly bore beyond the first trees. No soldier liked to risk such a trap. The Guards of Wayrest who accompanied the Count of Maumont noted the anxiety of their leader and modeled their behavior on her, scrutinizing their environment.

Artoria had learned to trust her instincts and her sixth sense was screaming to move away quickly. There was nothing to see... Ah yes! The wagon had poured at a fork. An almost invisible path left the main road before venturing north. The sensation of deafening threatened to grow in Saber's chest, squeezing her throat. Artoria ceased to resist this morbid impression:

"On the double!"

The order of their leader threw the Guards of Wayrest in a desperate cavalcade. Not a moment too late! Archers were hiding on either side of the road, masked by the shadows of the trees. Their arrows whispered to the ears of the fastest soldiers. Not all, however, were so fortunate, and neighing preceded the fall of several of the horsemen accompanying Artoria. Their cries of agony and their cries for help resounded at length in the ears of the fugitives.

Saber only slowed down his mighty steed after traveling nearly two miles in a hell ride. While flattering the sweaty flank of the horse out of breath, she turned to assess the losses. Her heart squeezed as Artoria discovered the four riders slowing down behind her. None were injured, fortunately. On the other hand, the other soldiers - and probably the scouts before them - had not escaped the archers' ambush.

Accustomed to controlling her emotions, Artoria Pendragon did not allow anything to appear, except a slight twitching of her fingers on the reins. However, she wanted to scream out of anger. Rarely had the feeling of helplessness been so strong in her. Not only did the attackers control the terrain, plan her movements, but now they were trapping her. The feeling of dancing in the enemy's palm was a blow to her pride. Artoria also suffered from having lost so many valiant men for so few results.
His eyes were fixed on the road behind the survivors, reliving the ambush in thought. The archers had not even thought of obstructing the road. However, they had hidden perfectly, difficult to see the work of a dilettante. Something did not fit... However, Artoria could not pinpoint what was wrong.

"Let's not stay here, the enemy may have horses."

While they departed in a trot to let their horses rest, Saber reflected on the events of the last days.

The battle of the elven temple and the ambush of the road did not bear the mark of a brilliant tactician. After all, taken by surprise by a superior force, Saber had easily prevailed. However, the opponent had so far managed to keep the initiative. There was a striking contrast between this impression of fighting against shadows that were slipping away and that of being oneself in full light, followed by attentive eyes.

At the moment when this evident contradiction appeared to her, the Count of Maumont understood that these were only two aspects of the same obsession: information. The adversary she faced was as careful to conceal his actions as to know Saber own. Strangely, it reminded her of the Grail Wars... The Masters also tried to learn the most from their enemies while hiding their own abilities.
Although the mind elsewhere, Artoria was no less attentive to her environment, her eyes stopped on a large spider web glistening between two branches. A fly struggled after being caught in the invisible net. The sight of the arachnid that rolled out its thread to throw itself on its prey made Saber shudder.
Some strategists were said to be like the spider waiting in the shadows to strike. It was probably the most frustrating type of antagonist to fight. How to plan a battle plan if you don't know who you're up against, what his goals are, or when he's going to strike?

At the top of a wooded hill, protected by the shade of tall trees, Artoria enjoyed an extensive view. A little to the east, the road spanned a river into a bridge of an arch. The road continued meandering in the distance in a landscape of farms and fields... nevertheless, the villages were abandoned. Even from a distance, it was easy to understand that the hamlets had been looted.

To the east, at the top of a hill, stood a small castle, one of the towers had collapsed and black smoke whisps were still rising from the ruins. The trees of a nearby orchard bore sinister fruit... each branch weighed down by a hanged man.

Everywhere was seen the mark of Angra Mainyu and the multiple curses that he spread on Nirn: envy, hatred, violence, war, rape, murder, looting...

However, the site was not completely abandoned. Many tents stood near the barricaded bridge. Even at a distance, one could not fail to see the red uniforms swarming on the other shore.

So that's why the Redguars was no attempt to stop them or pursue them. There was already something planned for those who escaped the ambush. And this time, they had clearly changed their methods. Their nameless opponent was now playing the intimidation's card. This dispositif was not intended to eliminate a handful of stray soldiers. It was created to stop a significant force. The presence of crossbowmen among the defenders would have made Saber think twice before the attack, even if she had a full regiment of Guards of Wayrest with her.

With the four men she had left, there was no need to procrastinate. The obstacle had to be circumvented.
The soldiers went up in the saddle and went due north for part of the day, before heading eastward. They found the river after this detour. Unfortunately, an enemy patrol ran along the other shore. The Redguards had not yet spotted them because the bank was high and lined with tight trees. Artoria immediately rejected the idea of passing in force on horseback. After chasing their horses, Saber and her companions crossed, taking advantage of the cover offered by large rocks coming out of the wave. Walking on the water, the King of Knights was the first to reach the eastern shore.
And she discovered a Redguard in red clothes stood on one of the blocks, silhouetted by the sun. Frozen by surprise, Artoria saw the newcomer swirl his spear, before projecting the tip towards her hand. By reflex, she blocked and distanced herself from a few steps. Nevertheless, at that moment, several archers joined the first man and a shower of arrows fell upon her men. All of them collapsed and the water turned red and the stream took away their corpses. Then one of the Redguards stretched his bow to target her... The arrow struck her on the head. Miraculously, the projectile only opened Artoria's forehead. However, the shock stunned her and the river carried her along.

Slammed against a rock and wounded by the shock, Saber choked on the water that invaded her lungs. She lost consciousness.

Artoria Pendragon, count of Maumont, regained consciousness lying on the bank, body all aching. Seen the height of the sun, several hours had passed. Verifying her physical condition and possessions, Saber was surprised to discover that she had no broken bones.

Maybe it was proof that the gods of Tamriel saw in her their most loved child, given the insolent chance that never abandoned her. Leaning on a tree to stand, Saber fought stubborn dizziness that made the standing station delicate. After a while, the ground seemed more stable and she ventured a few steps. Just walking helped her mind to clear itself.

As a scent traced by animals ran eastward, Saber followed it and blinked as the sun greeted her out of the wispy.

Her gaze extended far away. However, Artoria didn't see any human presence. The first village she discovered seemed to have been looted and abandoned. Artoria followed the path that led to it until she reached a better-maintained secondary road. Just before sunset, the young woman reached an irrigation canal. Only the pillars and some planks of the small wooden bridge that had spanned it remained. The destruction was voluntary, Saber clearly discerned axes' marks on the pillars, another result of the conflict in the region. It remained to be seen whether it was a matter of depredation of the invaders, or an act of delay carried out by Gavaudon's soldiers.

As darkness spread over the countryside, Saber went away from the road, spreading out the ears of wheat so as not to betray her passage by crushing them. Arriving in the middle of the field, she rolled over in her coat and fell asleep immediately.