Estoriil, Marshal of Hosts, Second General of the Aldmeri Dominion, looked around with satisfaction from his vantage point at the top of the tower of Lakeview Manor. All around him stretched the land of Falkreath, the ancestral home of the great Tiber Septim. How fitting it was that their moment of triumph would begin here, the moment that they would finally put pay to the Talos Heresy and undo the curse of mundane existence all in one swoop.

The High Elf general glanced towards the north-east, towards the hulking outline of the Throat of the World, visible even from here. He breathed in deep, smiling in satisfaction. He was close, so very close to achieving his goal, the goal of every right-thinking elf who was forced to dwell in this mistake, this Mundus.

The lingering smell of dog and dampness curled into his nostril, ruining the moment. He spat in disgust. He had to remember where he was. A land of men. Not to mention the very home of a man who would likely stand against them when they made their move on the mountain. The purported successor to the hated Tiber Septim. Uhther Stormfist, the man Estoriil knew he would have to throw down if the Thalmor were to achieve their apotheosis.

He supposed he should be thanking this Dragonborn. It was because of Uhther that all this was possible. The Dominion had been looking for an excuse to invade Skyrim for years. It had been clear for a long time now that the Snow Throat Tower would not be broken unless the area around it was first properly secured. And allowing an embassy was one thing but the Nords were never going to allow the Thalmor within a mile of their precious holy mountain. There had been some despair in the High Council, that they might fail at the final hurdle.

And then the great Dragonborn had handed them the excuse on a silver platter. Smiling to himself, Estoriil made a mental note to thank him for his assistance before he and his supporters were executed.

One thing did bother him, though. Why had he done it? Why now?

He was not complaining, but he failed to see what the Dragonborn had hoped to gain from attacking the embassy. It couldn't be simple racial hatred. He knew that there was plenty of that in Skyrim towards his kind. But surely if that was all there was to it, if this Uhther was motivated by nothing but hatred of the Thalmor, then wouldn't he have joined the banner of Ulfric Stormcloak during the rebellion?

Estoriil had read the dossier on the Dragonborn. He had fought for the legion, fought well and with honour, even rising to the rank of Legate. He remembered that had been a major source of concern in the High Council, especially when the war was ended and the Empire once again held sway in the north. They had feared the Empire would launch a new war before the Dominion were ready, the northern legion unified and strengthened, High Rock and Hammerfell joining with them again to force the Dominion south. But then, nothing had happened. That had taken them all by surprise. That had surely been the right time to attack. So why hadn't they? And why had Uhther struck now, five years later, out of the blue?

The Emperor had claimed ignorance of the Dragonborn's actions and had appeared all too willing to sanction their invasion of Skyrim, though officially it was being called a peacekeeping mission.

Estoriil turned away from the mountain. Perhaps he would ask the Dragonborn what he had hoped to achieve when he had him chained and muzzled.

His gaze drifted back to the town of Falkreath itself.

All was silent there. It was a heavy silence that weighed on every elf and khajiit that now dwelt within the hold capital. No humans, of course. That particular infection had been purged from the place, though the stink of them still lingered. That was one of the reasons Estoriil had established himself here in the manor. The stink was also here but it was not so bad as it was down there.

The days that had passed since Falkreath had been claimed for the Dominion had passed in a blur of preparation. They had passed the first test, gaining a foothold in Skyrim before the Nords were any the wiser, but the next step would be harder. They would know they were here by now and this Queen Elisif he had heard about would probably be trying to rally the jarls and their forces. Estoriil and his army all knew that the next time they fought, it would be a true battle against a prepared foe. So, they must be ready for a real fight.

But they could not move out yet. Much as Estoriil wanted to, he knew he must wait.

His primary objective was to secure the Throat of the World. Aside from that, nothing else mattered. Estoriil knew he would not be able to get there before Elisif was able to assemble a resisting force but the important question was where they would choose to muster? If Elisif was intelligent, and Estoriil had heard that she was, at least for a human, then she would order the jarls to assemble in Whiterun Hold and then move south. If that happened, then he might be able to slip a small force around their eastern flank and secure the Throat of the World while the rest of his army kept the Nords busy.

But he could not move at all until he had the report from the scouts. Or from his northern agents. So, he waited and every hour he grew more impatient.

The sound of the trap door opening had the Thalmor general almost spinning about, high with anticipation but he was disappointed. This was no Thalmor agent or scout. It was his counterpart in the allied army.

An enormous figure pushed their way up through the trap door. They rested one clawed foot on the stone floor and pushed up with a slight growl of exertion and a clatter of armour.

Yellow eyes, slitted in the midday sun, fixed themselves on Estoriil and, despite all the power the Thalmor general possessed, he could not help but shudder. Those eyes were all the more imposing in that face, so similar to that of a khajiit, and yet so much wilder and more ferocious, the fur orange and stripped with black.

'Marshall,' Du Guanting Jie inclined her head respectfully, 'apologies for disturbing you, do you have a moment for talk?'

'I always have time for our esteemed allies of the Ka Po' Tun,' Estoriil replied, careful to keep his voice free of any annoyance he felt at the interruption of his privacy. 'How may I assist?'

Guanting straightened up. Her inscrutable feline face made reading the emissary's expression difficult, but her stance definitely became more business-like.

'His Divine Majesty, Tosh Raka, has sent word that he has at last reached the shore of Taazokaan, this land that you name Dawn's Beauty. As well as the promised armies from the Homeland, the Divine Emperor has also brought three regiments of Tang Mo fighters and a retinue of Kamal executioners. This host is, even now, advancing across the land that has been named Golseyolos by His Divine Majesty.'

Estoriil had to grit his teeth in exasperation. The Emperor of Ka Po' Tun styled himself a dragon. Whether that was true or merely an affectation, no one on this side of the Padomaic Ocean truly knew, though their new Akaviri allies seemed adamant that it was fact. In truth, Estoriil did not care one way or the other. It was for the Emperor's armies that they had intervened on the continent and aided in the destruction of the snake-like Tsaesci. With those armies now supporting the Dominion, their success was assured and for that Estoriil was happy to grant this Tosh Raka whatever honorifics they wished. But the Emperor had apparently taken up the habit of speaking in the Dragon Tongue which made interpreting his messages difficult to say the least.

'Golseyolos?' Estoriil repeated, keeping his patience, though only barely. He remembered vaguely that "Yol" meant fire in the Dragon Tongue, but that was about all he could make out. But if the Emperor and his entourage had landed in the east and were now advancing towards Skyrim, there was only one place they could really be. 'You mean Morrowind?'

With some small measure of satisfaction, Estoriil saw what could only be annoyance flash in Guanting's slitted eyes, only for a moment, then it was gone, replaced by the calm respect that had been there before.

'I believe that is what it was named,' said Guanting, and Estoriil did not miss the emphasis that had been placed on "was." 'His Divine Majesty expects he shall arrive here in less than a week.'

That did take Estoriil aback. So soon? To cross all of Morrowind? With an army of such size? He had not to dared hope the Ka Po' Tun forces would be so quick. And that had been before hearing of these new additions to the allied army. Estoriil had no idea what a Kamal was, but he had seen something of the Tang Mo during his brief visit to Akavir. They had reminded him of humans, though much more agile, able to use their long tails to achieve feats of balance that many of the Thalmor had found impressive.

Despite the Lord Marshall's efforts, clearly something of his surprise had shown on his face because Guanting's feline features creased into a smile of undeniably smug satisfaction.

'I hope this news is pleasing, Great General?'

It was taking every ounce of Estoriil's self-control not to roast the striped freak right then and there for daring to condescend to one such as him. But he swallowed his fury.

'It is,' he replied, smiling his best diplomatic smile. 'Please convey my gratitude to His Divine Majesty and tell him I forward to greeting him when he arrives.'

Guanting bowed and retreated back into Lakeview Manor, through the trapdoor which closed with a click.

Estoriil turned his eyes back on the Throat of the World, but he was no longer thinking of the Tower, nor the Stone at its metaphysical centre. His thoughts were still on the Ka Po' Tun emperor, this self-styled Tiger Dragon, Tosh Raka.

Not much longer, he thought in the quiet of his mind, not much longer now.

It boiled his blood to be forced to deal with such lesser races. The khajiit were bad enough but at least they had sworn themselves to the Dominion. These grotesque striped creatures dared to look at him as if he were their equal. Or worse, as if their precious emperor stood above the Dominion.

Well, let them think so. As long as Tosh Raka played his part, it would hardly matter what his people, or their monkey-like allies believed. All would be set right when the children of Auri-El rose to reclaim their rightful place in Aetherius.

And, if the legend was true and Tosh Raka was indeed a dragon, well that would make the task all the easier. The Tiger Emperor could fulfil the great purpose that Alduin should have completed, all those years ago. Estoriil wondered if that was the reason why he seemed so eager to reach the mountain.

That thought brought another face to the front of Estoriil's mind, not that it had been too far from his thoughts. The Dragonborn. Uhther. Estoriil usually had little regard for men, but he knew this one was not to be underestimated.

What would he do? He wondered. Raise an army, no doubt, if he hadn't already, but who would answer his call? He would surely have a handful of loyal warriors, the members of his household along with any Nords loyal to him for whatever reason. Estoriil had also heard of a mercenary guild with whom Uhther was affiliated. The Companions, a remnant from the days of the Eternally Damned Ysgramor. They would likely join him. But who else?

The mages of the northern college? No fear there. Pitiful excuses for sorcerers beside the masters of the Thalmor wizards. Though, if the Psijic Order aided them, they might become bothersome. The Psijics had never made any secret of their opposition to the Aldmeri cause. The Northern Legion? Would they really choose Uhther over their oath to the Child Emperor of Cyrodiil? The Nords who had followed Ulfric Stormcloak surely hated Uhther for his part in their leader's downfall, but would anti-Thalmor sentiment overcome that? And what of these Greybeards who supposedly lived atop the mountain? Masters of the Dragon Tongue. That would prove formidable but the reports Estoriil had read stated the Greybeards were peaceful, living the lives of monastic hermits. So they would likely not take to the field of battle, but would they stand against him when he ascended the mountain to break it?

And then there were the Blades. Estoriil had heard that they were active again in Skyrim, though nothing had yet been proven. They had been a serious impediment to Aldmeri interests in the Empire. That had been one of the reasons for their insisting on the order being disbanded at the conclusion of the First Great War. The High Council had considered the matter dealt with. A mistake, if the rumours he had heard were true. Estoriil had no doubt that the Blades would throw their support whole-heartedly behind the Dragonborn. A formidable addition, to be sure, but would it be enough?

Estoriil wondered where Uhther was now. Was he, even now, riding for the Blue Palace to beg Queen Elisif for aid?

'I shall see you soon,' he whispered into the silent air, his eyes still fixed on the mountain peak, 'I hope, for your sake, you are ready for it.'