"My answer remains the same, Proventus. No." Jarl Balgruuf scowled in frustration. "I will not have imperial soldiers garrisoned in Whiterun or anywhere in my hold. Our neutrality holds the balance and stops either side from wanting to begin open war." He let out a long and weary sigh, "As long war hasn't broken out, there is a chance for a peaceful resolution. And I won't give the Thalmor the satisfaction of an open civil war if I can help it."

He stood from his desk and went over to the map table which showed all of Skyrim in detail. Balgruuf leaned against it, "For all of her diplomatic posturing you can tell that snake Elenwen is just waiting for us to start killing each other."

Proventus rubbed wearily at his forehead, "As you say, my lord. I would be remiss in my duties though not to provide my counsel." He dropped his hand back to his side, "I understand your view, but it is idealistic. The reality is that this war will come. If we support the empire strongly now, we can at least do so on our terms, with the majority of the holds and end the conflict quickly, minimizing bloodshed."

The old imperial walked up to the map and gestured to the stormcloak holds, "I do not wish to see Skyrim bleed. But it is inevitable. All we can do now is attempt to mitigate the damage."

Balgruuf let out a bitter chuckle, "Perhaps I am naive, Proventus. But we must try." He clenched a fist, "We must try to stop tensions from escalating further." Up to this point neither of them had noticed Farengar standing and fidgeting awkwardly in the doorway. The mage shifted nervously from foot to foot and had been looking for an opportunity to interject for some time.

Proventus laid a hand on the jarl's shoulder, "Not naive, my lord. Principled. But I fear that few share those principles -" He was interrupted by a very loud and obviously fake cough from the doorway.

Jarl Balgruuf turned, "Farengar?" He raised a brow at the odd mage, taking in his agitation, "What is it?" The mage swallowed, hesitating, which prompted an impatient 'get-on-with-it' hand gesture from Proventus.

"I, uh, apologize for interrupting, my lord, but I, uh, have a message. From Thane Kratos." Farengar paused again looking decidedly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Balgruuf's brow creased, "Out with it, man."

"Well, uh… Kratos said, 'Tell the jarl I will be killing more Thalmor. He will want to know.'" Silence ruled the room for a moment before both the jarl and Proventus turned to look at each other.

Jarl Balgruuf slowly turned his head back to Farengar, "Did I hear you correctly?"

Farengar swallowed heavily, "I am afraid so, jarl."

Balgruuf pinched the bridge of his nose briefly, brows drawn together, "Where is he now?"

"Likely he has just left the city."

The jarl remained in his pained posture, "Did he mention why?"

Farengar folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe, "He believes that they have something that belongs to him."

"Excellent. So there's going to be no dissuading him."

Proventus was tapping his chin thoughtfully, "We can send a party after him?"

Balgruuf looked to the wizard, "Do you know where he's going?"

Farengar nodded, "Saarthal, my lord, in Winterhold." He went over to the table and tapped the location on the map, "Here."

Balgruuf turned back to Proventus, "It won't work. He'll be cutting across country then. There's no catching him in rough country. He moves too blasted fast. Besides, sending more men into a stormcloak hold we risk a broader escalation and open war."

They stood in somber silence, all looking at the map for a time before Farengar spoke again, "Look at the brightside, my lord."

Balgruuf gave him a look of exasperation and raised a frustrated brow at him, "And what exactly would that be?"

"It's possible no one will know he was even there. He does have a tendency not to leave survivors.

Balgruuf opened his mouth to give a scathing reply, but instead he stopped, blinked and shut his mouth. A beat later the jarl turned back to Proventus with a thoughtful look on his face and gave him a small shrug, "That actually is a very good point."


The vista seemed almost two dimensional, no depth perceptible, with the flat grey light of the overcast day washing out all detail in the snow blanketed landscape. Saarthal stood out starkly, an excavation down into the earth, revealing stone and ancient ruins, clashing with the unrelieved white of the snow.

A bitter wind rushed along the snow-wrapped hills pulling along frozen crystals in its wake. The wind twined about two crouched and silent watchers who observed closely the ruins, eyes keen to any movement or sign of life. Lydia crouched, motionless, the chill wind blowing a loose strand of dark hair across her face, contrasting against her pale skin and the deep red of her war paint.

Lydia was surprised. Winterhold as always lived up to its name and winter held a firm grip on icy hills around them. It was a bitter wind that cut over them, racing down from the frigid Sea of Ghosts, cold enough to numb a man in moments or kill a foolish one with time. Lydia, however, while chilled, didn't find it insupportable. She flexed a hand experimentally. She wasn't numb and she knew she could still fight if she had to.

She cast a somewhat surreptitious look to her right where Kratos knelt. Kratos had made no compromise to the weather and persisted with his normal attire, the majority of his torso bare to the biting weather. The cold had as much impact on him as it did upon the stone he sat next to. Again, she flexed her sword hand and could not help but wonder if some of that virtue or power had rubbed off on her.

Kratos' low rumble carried easily through the whistling of the wind, "Enough. It seems they are inside." He turned to face Lydia, "Gather the men. We will go down now. They need the shelter." Lydia nodded and followed their track back around the crown of the hill to where the rest of their party waited out of sight of the ruins.

She straightened and sped up once she had rounded the hill and came quickly to the waiting men. She could tell at a glance that they were not enduring the cold with the same vigor that she and Kratos enjoyed. They looked a miserable lot, wrapped tightly in their gear and still shivering. Lydia smiled as she approached and the sergeant spoke when she neared, "What news, redhand? To battle with the Thalmor?" He blew out a gusty breath, creating billowing fog in the arctic air, "Anything to get the blood moving, eh?" He rubbed his hands together forcefully.

Lydia chuckled, "We are approaching. But we will not initiate hostilities. We can take shelter inside, or at least out of the wind."

The man smiled, "Aye." and saluted quickly before spinning to the others, "Up lads and quick! You heard the Redhand. Form up!"

In short order they were moving in a quick, tight column towards Saarthal. They did not bother to disguise their approach, feeling that speed was their greater ally. Any watcher would pick them out against the flat white with ease. However no cry was raised and soon enough they were descending the wooden scaffolds and paths down into the Saarthal excavation.

It was clear that the expedition was focused around the main building as it was the only cleared door. There were remnants of a camp and equipment outside but it was clear that essentially everything had been moved into the underground ruins proper.

Without pause Kratos strode up to the ancient metallic door and pushed it open. It swung open with little sound and remarkable ease, though Lydia could not tell if that was due to the quality of the construction or Kratos' immense strength. The entire party followed hot on his heels, eager to be out of the biting cold of that bleak and barren waste.

"Halt!" came an immediate and strident voice, "Go no further!" They had come into a large entry hall, strange urns and sconces filled with odd and indeterminate detritus lined the walls. Torches burned from their hooks on the wall and fire burned merrily in a pit in the center of the room. Two rather unfriendly looking Thalmor justicars, each was in an aggressive stance, with magicka lighting their hands.

For the moment Kratos ignored them and turned to the sergeant, "Stay here. Alternate sentries on the outside. Short shifts. Eat. Rest. Lydia and I will speak with the Thalmor."

At this point the other justicar broke in, his voice nearly as cold as the wind outside, "You will not be staying here. This site has been claimed by the Thalmor and you will leave immediately."

Kratos turned and took a few large strides toward the justicars, before looking down his nose at them, "Take me to your leader. Immediately." The justicar paused and glanced at his compatriot, a flash of uncertainty glimmering in his eyes. Kratos continued, "This is beyond your authority."

The elf hesitated for a moment before narrowing his eyes and speaking once more, "Very well. You will follow me." He turned quickly and caught the other justicar, muttering, "Stay here. If they so much as breathe wrong, signal everyone." The other elf nodded and backed towards the tunnel that led deeper into the complex, keeping a sharp eye on all of Kratos' men.

The first justicar turned with a sniff and left the room, not bothering to see if Kratos and Lydia were actually following him. The altmer led them through various halls and twisted galleries of stone, twining deeper into the earth. All of the stone work was intricately wrought with ancient, knot-like nordic designs and runes. In some places the original stairs or paths had crumbled and given way to time, and had been replaced by rough-and-ready woodwork of the researchers to ease their exploration.

All the while Kratos could feel the blades growing nearer, sense the heat and resonance of their presence like an infernal heart beating somewhere deeper in the ruins. Despite that, Kratos' face was entirely impassive, resigned as he was to taking up that burden once again.

They entered a larger chamber with a raised dais at the far end. The room had a tall vaulted ceiling and the walls were lined with ancient nordic sarcophagi. There were tables and chairs strewn about the room which seemed to serve as some sort of hub for the Thalmor judging by the number of elves reading or sitting about. On the dais was a tall elf with his hands planted on the table he leaned over, examining the papers and books strewn before him.

Notice of their entry was immediate and the conversation in the room immediate fell to a muted buzz as every eye locked on to them. Their guide led them towards the elf on the dais who was no glaring at them, his face clearly showing his displeasure and distaste at their presence. He clearly held some sort of rank as his garb had more embellishment than the standard dark uniform of the Thalmor justicars.

The elf straightened and came around the table to the edge of the dais as they approached, stopping at the top of the stairs that ringed the platform, "Valion, why have you brought these here rather than sending them away as ordered."

The sentry bowed, "Their party was too large to reliably send away with force and this man," he gestured to Kratos, "says that he has business here."

The other elf's voice lashed out as his eyes caught on one of the elves in the room, "Send a detachment to the entrance now." He returned his attention to them, cold golden eyes narrowed, "We will discuss your failings later." At that the sentry paled, clearly dreading the conversation.

Kratos stepped forward, "You lead this expedition?"

The elf sneered down at him, "You will leave this place. Immediately."

Kratos stood, completely impassive, arms crossed, "No. I have come for what is mine."

The elf's eyes widened for a moment before he let out a sharp chuckle, "No?" The Thalmor agent slowly approached, taking his time down the stairs, "You will do as you are told." He gestured around them, "You are in a hall of justicars who would kill you at my command." The tension was palpable as the remaining elves had all stood, though no weapons had yet been drawn. He continued in a glacial tone, "More than that… Kratos, you are suspected of several crimes against the Thalmor. An attack on our justicars. An attack on our embassy. Crimes for which we could see you hang." The elf, who despite being quite tall, still glared upwards at Kratos with venom in his gaze.

Silence reigned for a moment as the elf attempted to stare down the monolithic titan before him. The quiet was shattered by a sudden rolling laugh from Lydia. The elf switched his glare to Lydia as her laughter quieted to a chuckle and the other justicars traded puzzled glances.

Lydia held up a calming hand, the occasional snicker still breaking through, "So let me see if I understand." She couldn't stop a grin creeping across her face, "You believe that this man," she indicated Kratos, "broke into your embassy, burned it down, and slaughtered your people."

Lydia held up a finger, "Moreover! You think he killed a party of justicars. One of whom," her voice became abruptly serious and forceful, "was literally ripped in half." She let that hang in the air for a moment before another chuckle escaped as she pointed to the elf, "And you thought it would be a good idea to get within arm's reach of him? After threatening him?" She shrugged, "That would seem to me to be a tactically unsound decision."

The Thalmor looked suddenly extremely uncomfortable, eyeing warily the small distance remaining between himself and Kratos. He took a small step backwards, but Kratos, smooth as oil, stepped forward the exact distance, maintaining perfectly the space between them.

His voice was blunt, rough, and laden with the weight of hanging menace, "You do not understand, elf. I will take what is mine. All that is left to you is to choose whether you and your men will die trying to stop me." His amber eyes bore into the elf before he abruptly turned away, the sudden motion causing some of the justicars to raise their hands in preparation to cast spells.

Kratos closed his eyes a moment, ignoring the pale elf and took a breath. He could feel them. Smell them. Metal, smoke and blood. He opened his eyes and glanced at Lydia, she was staring off in the direction of the blades as well. She was learning. Kratos set off towards the appropriate passage immediately, feeling Lydia drop in on his right flank, her eyes assessing the justicars they passed.

The Thalmor leader's voice broke the tomb like silence, as he ordered with a quaver, "Stop him." The justicars before Kratos, blocked the exit, exchanging glances amongst the four of them.

Kratos did not slow his steady approach, "Move. Or be moved."

The justicars raised their hands, prepared spells dancing between their fingers, casting highlights across their angular faces. One called back, "Stop! Come no closer or we will use force!" His call had no impact on Kratos' measured approach.

The elf then made a very foolish decision.

A razor sharp spike of ice leapt from the justicar's hand, rushing towards Kratos. However in the same moment Kratos burst forward. As he passed the blade of ice he turned slightly letting the spell pass close by him. His hand dropped down, grasping the spike and he continued his rush. In an eye-blink he was there. The next thing the justicars saw was Kratos ramming the spike of ice through the head of the one who cast it. With a gut wrenching crunch, blood and bone flew.

Kratos was already among them. At its master's call the leviathan axe whipped off of his back and into his already swinging hands. The blade crashed through the next justicar's chest, tearing through him like so much stained paper, hurling a broad arc of black arterial spray. The third caught his back stroke, which cleaved the elf's head in half, leaving only his jaw and another red fountain. The final elf near Kratos managed to get off a spell, but in his panic, the bolt of lightning flew wide, passing harmlessly by the blood stained embodiment of slaughter before him. He got no chance for another as a booted foot connected with his chest, shattering his bones and casting him down the tunnel he had attempted to guard.

Lydia knew when the fight was going to begin, it was almost as if she heard a whispered warning from Kratos moments before. She moved at the same time as her thane, if not with the same divine speed, feeling his presence blaze as the battle was joined. Even so, the justicar she rushed would have described her sprint as supernaturally quick if he ever had the opportunity. Lydia's blade leapt from its scabbard directly into a surgical stroke, opening the justicar's neck.
One of the long heavy tables in the room, divided her from her next target. Lydia continued her run without missing a step, bounding up onto a chair and then the table top. There was no conscious thought in her mind when she saw the elf unleash a fireball against her. She kept her speed and leapt off the table at him. Lydia tucked her legs up, hiding her body behind her round shield. Instinctively, she drew on the monolithic pillar of power near her and hardened will upon her shield.

The spell struck her dead on, in mid flight. It detonated with a blast and billow of flame that was ill-advised for the small space, but caused by the surprise and effort with which it was cast. The spell washed over and across her shield billowing around the barrier, but passing her by as she soared through it.

The justicar smiled in relief and satisfaction when his fireball struck that cursed nord. He expected his next sight to be her ruined body blasted back across the room. However that relief was short lived as a moment later as he saw a shield come streaking like a comet out of the billows of black, arcane smoke.

Lydia stayed tucked behind her shield and struck him with meteoric force. Lydia dropped her legs and managed to stay on her feet, though she slid as she regained her balance. The justicar on the other hand was knocked senseless and hurled across the floor.

She had barely righted herself when her sense of danger flared once more and she spun, blade flashing in the torchlight. Lydia managed to redirect the razor shaft of conjured ice that would have impaled her, using her sword to redirect it just enough to sail by her harmlessly. Her brows snapped down as her eyes locked on the justicar that had cast the spell. Suddenly a slash of chill blue light struck the elf. He fell immediately, heart snap-frozen between beats by the primordial cold of Nifelheim. Her eyes shot along the hoarfrost riming the air in the projectile's path and saw Kratos, standing tall, his axe shedding ice.

Kratos watched the justicar fall, struck by the power he had channelled through the leviathan axe's runes. Kratos hurled his axe without looking, knowing without sight when it found its target and took their life. Kratos broke into a run at the pair of remaining justicars. They hurled their magicka at him, hoping that their assault would slow or deter him. He ignored their spells. The lightning crawled over his skin, finding no purchase. He had weathered far worse storms. They were no Magni or Modi.

Kratos leapt the last 20 feet, soaring through the air. The leviathan axe sped back to his raised hands, reaching him at the apex of his jump. Kratos brought the axe crashing down, landing in a flash and explosion of force, light and unspeakable cold. The flash frozen bodies of the justicars were thrown away from him, cracking and falling into pieces as they struck the ground.

The room settled into silence in the aftermath of the battle. Lydia's breath fogged the air as the frigid power of Kratos' attacks diffused itself throughout the room. They exchanged a look before Lydia shrugged and spoke, "Well. Thalmor. That went better than I expected honestly."

Kratos nodded as he crossed the room back towards her, "Indeed. It was surprising they did not attack immediately." Lydia fell in at his side as he walked past, headed once more in the direction of the blazing essence that drew their attention. Lydia could sense it easily now as well, moreover could sense how it stretched towards her than with… longing? She shook her head, perhaps now she was reading too much into these impressions.

They wound through the tunnels using the beacon of the blades as a lodestone to draw them in. Still it took some time as the passages of Saarthal were convoluted and all rather similar in appearance. It was for that reason that very quickly, Kratos took to marking their path, scoring the intersections through which they passed.

They came upon a few more Thalmor as they delved deeper into Saarthal. Whether they were stragglers or patrols was not clear, but their bones joined those of the ancient nords all the same.

Kratos slowed as they approached a chamber, a portion of it visible through the open double doors. "Here." His voice was a dull rumble, somehow even lower than its normal bass tone.

Lydia noted his hesitation and bumped him with a shoulder, causing him to look down at her. Her concern was evident on her face, in the crease of her brow, "Whatever deeds these blades bring to mind, you are not that person any longer." Her voice was resolute, "I know well who I follow, and I follow a good man. Taking these doesn't change that."

Kratos nodded, "I know." He let out a heavy breath through his nose, "I have done good with the blades as well. But they will always be a burden. Come." With that he strode forward, Lydia hot on his heels. The room was open and bare, the area around the blades had obviously been cleared by the mages, leaving them surrounded by bare stone. The short broad blades shimmered in the heat haze, their jagged ages made their purpose clear. More, even, than implements or war, these were implements of slaughter.

Kratos approached with no hesitation and bending down seized the blades. He tore them from the raw stone and stood for a moment considering the weapons in his hands. To Lydia the essence of the blades immediately diminished from her perception, subsumed into the power and presence of the god of war. Kratos lay the blades down again and began to haul the long chains attached to the pommels from the rock. The heat of the chains and the flecks of molten stone that came off of them Kratos ignored as if they did not exist. To Lydia's eyes it was if he were pulling the chains straight out of oblivion.

With a beleaguered sigh, Kratos set aside his gauntlets and began to wrap the chains around his forearms. Lydia's eyes bulged as she saw the chains fall into the tracks of the old scars that ran around his powerful forearms. Kratos' mind wandered as he fell into the old action, truly these chains did bind him for a good portion of his early life but he had been his own jailer.

The process went quickly, with the ease of long repetition and Kratos replaced his gauntlets, sheathing the blades at his lower back, tucked through a belt. Lydia eyed the set up askance before shrugging, "I will have some proper sheathes made once we return to Havverfjord. Bori will leap at the chance to make something for you."

Kratos nodded, rolling his shoulders, "He will get his wish. This arrangement is… not ideal."

Lydia froze then, hearing something, but not with her ears. There was something else in Saarthal, something more subtle than the blades. Before she hadn't noticed it, but with the blades no longer calling to Kratos it became evident. She turned to look at Kratos, "My thane, do you…?"

He nodded, staring deeper into the complex, "Yes. It is powerful." Kratos let out a displeased rumble. They considered this new sensation for a few moments.

Lydia cleared her throat, "I know that we have accomplished our stated goal here. But I have concerns about allowing the Thalmor to keep whatever this is." She shook her head, "Divines, I wouldn't even trust them with a spoon."

Kratos flexed his hands, settling the chains around his arms, "Your point is well taken. We will capture or destroy this item." Lydia nodded her agreement and followed him from the room. Once more they went delving deeper through Saarthal's tunnels and passageways, passing by ancient dwellings, mosaics and frescoes that composed the subterranean settlement.

It was clear that they were drawing near as not only did their sense of the target grow stronger, but they began to encounter more physical security as well. Old portcullises and other measures that proved to be no obstacle for Kratos' titanic strength.

After Kratos pulled apart the final portcullis they entered a large two tiered chamber from the upper level. Down below them lay a large, ornate sarcophagus which lay before a stone table and a throne. There were scorch marks adorning the nearby stone, clear signs of a magical battle that had taken place. There were several cloth shrouded bodies laying against the nearby wall, clearly fresh and presumably justicars.

None of that however, was what stood out in the room. In the large open space deeper in the immense chamber floated a strange orb. It was twice the height of a man and composed of various metal plates that fit together with a puzzle like quality. Glowing arcane runes lined the edges of the pieces, and from the tiny gaps between them shone a powerful blue light. The sphere rotated in place, floating peacefully 10 feet above a large platform adorned with the same unknown symbols.

Kratos and Lydia slowly descended a set of stone stairs to the lower level where the object awaited them. "My thane, do you have any idea what this is?" Lydia asked softly.

Kratos shook his head, eyes pouring over the runes, "No. I have not seen its like."

"Nor will you again." A haughty voice cut through the room, as a tall elf walked calmly into view. He continued, "The Eye is a font of magicka in its purest form. A connection to Magnus, the god of magick, himself!" The elf turned to them, his smile sharp as a razor and his eyes hard, "There are no limits to what a skilled mage can accomplish with such power."

Kratos said nothing but slowly drew forth his blades instead. The elf's eyes widened when he saw the blades, before narrowing even further. "You have claimed the other relic of Saarthal I see. Most interesting."

Kratos' fists clenched around the hilts, and his voice cut across the chamber, "Leave and live. Or stay and die."

The elf let out a cackle, throwing his head back for a moment before focusing on them once more, "You presume to command me? I have the Eye of Magnus! With this I am a god!"

That said the Thalmor mage raised his hand and let loose a blinding bolt of lightning. The bolt caught Kratos and hurled him back across the chamber where he slammed into the wall with a grunt. Lydia gaped only for a bare instant before diving into cover behind a thick stone pillar.

Kratos landed on his feet, steam rising from his ashen skin, "Very well." He grated through clenched teeth, and rocketed forward. Flames burst into being along the blades, lighting his charge. The elf's jaw dropped in shock that not only did the man survive his attack, but was now charging at him, and moving faster than should ever be possible.

The mage raised a magical shield, empowered by the Eye, just in time. Kratos whipped the blades in an arc, releasing the hilts and sending them flying out on the chains that bound them to him. They struck the shield with colossal heat and force, moreover the elf could feel the blades gnawing into his shield like living, ravenous things. He stumbled with the force of the blow, shocked for a moment before hurling another blast of Kratos.

Kratos turned the bolt aside with one of the blades and spat, "You are no god, little mage." He leapt forward both blades extended, held tightly in his fists. The mage raised his own hands and met him with a torrent of arcane power, arresting Kratos' forward momentum. Kratos clenched his teeth and pressed forward, the blades spitting gouts of hellish flame.

The elf drew even more power from the Eye opening himself up as a conduit and pouring that torrent of magical energy at the pale man before him. The Eye itself spun faster, the metallic shell that composed it opened and the plates began to shift and realign, showing what the sphere contained. It looked almost like the sun in miniature, a star of magicka trapped on the mortal plane, shining with a furious blue light that cast harsh shadows across the battlefield.

As Kratos slowly pressed forward he was forced to admit his surprise. It appeared that the mage had not been exaggerating. The power he channeled was enormous and quite possibly was the power of another god. Kratos managed another step, his own divine strength contesting with that of Magnus. He could see the elf's eyes locked on him, his face a mask of deranged focus. Kratos took another step forward. Perhaps he would need to reconsider his approach.

Kratos stumbled forward and nearly fell when the torrent of magicka seeking to destroy him abruptly vanished. He looked up and saw the elf's shocked face staring down at the bloody length of steel protruding from his chest. With a jerk Lydia wrenched her sword from the mage's back and watched as he staggered about to face her. He scowled and tried to speak but merely let a gout of blood burst from his mouth before falling.

Lydia looked up from the corpse and met Kratos' eyes for a moment before shrugging, "Poor tactical awareness."

Kratos barked out a laugh, "Indeed." He walked up to Lydia, the corners of his eyes crinkled, "Well done, girl."

She smiled back at him, "Thank you." The both turned to examine the floating relic as it slowly closed once more, hiding its internal sun behind runed plates. Lydia tossed a hand at the sphere, "What are we supposed to do about that?"

Kratos stood silently, considering the orb for a moment, before crossing his arms and speaking, "We will not be able to hide it. We must destroy it here."

Lydia's eyes were still glued to the floating Eye of Magnus, "Not to imply any lack of faith in your abilities, my thane, but can this be destroyed?"

Kratos let out a rumble, "I have not yet encountered something that can not be." Lydia gave him a look and a grin before shaking her head and backing away from the orb.

A new, soft voice spoke behind them, "Kratos and Lydia." They both spun, weapons in hand and Lydia dove immediately to the side not allowing them to be one target and coming back to her feet in a roll. The blades of chaos wept gobbets of flame in Kratos' grip, providing a ruddy red glow to contend with the blue from the Eye.

A good distance from them stood a slim figure wrapped in a pale yellow robe with the hood drawn up. The woman, judging by the voice, continued, "The God of War and his red right hand." She bowed from the waist, hand stills linked behind her back. "The Psijic Order thanks you. The Eye of Magnus in the hands of the Thalmor and Ancanno would have been an unmitigated disaster and bathed all of Tamriel in blood."

Kratos eyed the stranger for a moment, his aggressive stance not easing in slightest, still poised to attack, "What do you want?"

The psijic straightened, "The same as you, Ghost of Sparta, to remove the Eye of Magnus from reach."

Kratos' voice was harder and colder as he bit out, "You will not call me that."

The psijic bowed again, "My apologies, it was not my wish to offend. We knew only the title, not its import." She straightened again, "The Eye lay hidden for millennia. We would hide it again and see it remain unused. It is too powerful and will only cause bloodshed if left on Tamriel."

Kratos glanced at Lydia, "What do you know of this Psijic Order?"

Lydia kept her gaze locked on the mage but answered, "From what I have read in the jarl's library they are an ancient order of mages who have long advised the rulers of Tamriel, counseling patience and peace. They were once based on an island in Summerset but when the Thalmor came to power they left and took their island with them to an unknown place." She glanced at Kratos, "Psijics may actually be able to hide this thing."

Kratos relaxed his stance but his weapons remained drawn, "And how would you move this relic?"

"I would summon my colleagues and together we would teleport the Eye and ourselves back to Artaeum. None would be able to follow or find it again."

Kratos let out a rumble, "Its destruction is more sure."

The mage bobbed her head agreeably, "Certainly. However we fear that in addition to an apocalyptic discharge of magicka, one that would likely forever alter Skyrim and perhaps the continent, it may also damage the fabric of reality." She smiled, "We cannot be sure. We deemed containment the safer course."

Kratos' amber eyes bore into the mage for a minute before he sheathed his weapons, "Take it."

The mage bowed her head in thanks before turning and raising her hands. She cried a few words in an unknown tongue and in a flash arcane light eight more similarly attired mages stepped from thin air. Ignoring Kratos and Lydia they quickly surrounded the Eye of Magnus, raised their hands and began chanting. A charge began to build in the air, tugging at the senses and the hairs on Lydia's arms stood up.

With a sudden snap they were gone and the Eye with them. The air shifted in the chamber as it moved to fill the void left by the spell. Lydia looked wide eyed at the spot for a time before shaking her head, "What now?"

Kratos simply shrugged, "We go home."


AN: Another chapter that was longer in coming than it should have been.

A big thank you to all the reviewers and those who follow and favorite! It's wonderful to get feedback from you.

I do hope that the showdown with Ancanno didn't feel too anti-climactic. I just hate that dude and it seemed way more fitting for him to have an ignominious death rather than an epic battle.

Please leave me a review and let me know what you liked or what you didn't. I love specific feedback.

Stay safe and happy everyone!