Chapter 1: The Legacy

4E 202, 16th Day of Rain's Hand, Middas

Cyrodiil-Skyrim Border at Falkreath Hold.

Vitio snapped the book about his ancestor shut as he felt the carriage suddenly slowing down. He ruffled around in his luggage, and placed his book inside, lurching forward slightly as he felt the carriage stop. He sighed, thinking about the incompetent horse driver he had hired before exiting the carriage. Law was law after all, and he needed to show his papers to the border sentries. He stepped out and shot a disgruntled look at his carriage driver who grinned nervously back at him.

Vitio turned to the hulky Imperial sentries walking their way towards him. The leader, a great beast of a man simply offered his hand and no words. Considering the situation in Skyrim, no wards were needed, Vitio agreed. Vitio silently handed over the papers and the Sentry went through with the papers, grunting as he turned over the papers a few times to check its veracity.

"Falkreath entry eh?" The Sentry murmured. "The other border postings are closed due to the Rebellion. Good that you came here."

"Thank you." Vitio answered shortly. He had no intention of making small talk to some Sentry Guards. He needed to move into Skyrim as fast as possible before his target moved places.

"The younger brother of the Count of Kvatch eh?" The Sentry's eye's grew slightly wider and his voice grew slightly more respectful. "Here for official business on part of the Elder Council. Fine. Everything is in order. You may cross the border. Welcome to Skyrim, or well, whatever's left of it anyway."

Looking at the desolate countryside leading to Falkreath Hold beyond the opening gates, Vitio had a sneaking suspicion that the Sentry was not being hyperbolic and that he meant his last words. It would certainly fit in with what Vitio had learnt about the Skyrim Civil War. Vitio turned to re-enter his carriage when he heard the Sentry give a word of caution.

"A warning. The Truce of Hrothgar may have halted the Rebellion, but it is most decidedly a temporary truce. Skirmishes are rising every day, and no one has any delusions of lasting peace. Be careful out there. As a relative to a Cyrodiilic Count, you may be targeted."

It was good advice, Vitio thought as he turned back and nodded resolutely before entering the carriage cabin again.

The carriage trudged on towards Falkreath, ruled by its newly restored Jarl, Dengeir of Stuhn. Vitio dreaded this meeting with Dengeir, for politics was a nasty beast, especially against a Jarl who was dead-set against the Empire. The Truce needed to be maintained, at all costs.

It was half an hour before the carriage entered Falkreath. The carriage trudged on to the nearby inn reserved for him by the government as Vitio stepped out in front of the Jarl's Longhouse. Truth be told, Vitio was disappointed and felt cheated. Falkreath was not as much as impressive as the pocket guides to the Empire would have someone believe. Especially if you lived in large cosmopolitan cities of Cyrodiil such as the Imperial City, Chorrol, Kvatch or Anvil. It was a cluster of small villages grouped up into one single settlement, barely deserving of the title 'city'.

Standing at the gates of the Longhouse was a Nordic woman with bright blonde hair and actually, rather plain clothing, which was not common for stewards. Vitio moved forward curiously before speaking up first. Evidently the stewardess was a little nervous by the back forth stringing of her hands. "Stewardess Tekla. I believe this is our first time meeting in person?"

The stewardess composed herself and then drew herself to her not very impressive height when compared to Vitio's own. "Sir Vitio. It is an honor of Falkreath to have you here. The Jarl and his host is waiting inside for you."

"Of course. Show the way." Vitio smiled politely. He was the son of the 6th Count of Kvatch, and the brother of the current 7th Count. He knew politics and polite culture like the back of his hand. The Stewardess smiled back nervously before allowing the guards to open the doors into the longhouse. It was well decorated for sure. Nordic items scattered throughout the Longhouse and hunting treasures gleaming proudly. The symbols of the Nordic interpretation of the Gods also gleamed in the afternoon daylight. At the end of the Longhouse hall sat Jarl Dengeir of Stuhn, his thick figure and snow white beard taking up most of the visuals of the man.

"Jarl Dengeir." Vitio murmured in respect to the position – not the man. Dengeir grunted before looking at Vitio properly. Vitio did not know what was going on in the old wily Jarl's mind, but Vitio did not like it. He did not like Dengeir at all. He was foolish, and singleminded. His nephew may have been arrogant, but at least, according to all records, he knew how to manage a wartime Jarldom.

"Sir Vitio." The Jarl thundered as he stood up. "The Empire's lackeys are keen to keep the Truce up I see."

"Jarl Dengeir." Vitio gritted his teeth. "I am not here to rehash the age old debate of Imperial against Stormcloak in Skyrim. I am here to receive your approval to the continuation of the Truce of Hrothgar, nothing more, nothing less. Please, speak with the dignity of a Jarl."

"Very well." Dengeir grumbled with a wry grin before motioning Vitio forward. "As for the notion of renewing the Truce, well, I will have to think about it, don't you think?"

'He's playing for time.' Vitio thought before plastering a polite smile on his face again. "The debate for the Renewal of the Truce is going to come up once again in a few months. You will not have much time to wait, I fear Jarl Dengeir."

"And in the meantime I am sure Imperial plotters will do all they can to make sure that the Truce is upheld. Of course, the local nobility will lap up the gold and bribes." Dengeir shot back. "We both will do what we must Sir Vitio, and this is fact. Perhaps your young mind cannot comprehend this fact."

Vitio, to be frank, was at that time, becoming more and more angered by the lackadaisical and whimsy attitude the Jarl was showing to him. "I am even younger than the Last Dragonborn, and he is known to be quite young for all his accomplishments. So I do not know for what you are railing against me for Jarl Dengeir. You play for time now, and we will later see whether or not this ploy of yours is successful."

Dengeir simply scoffed before flashing his hands in a dismissive manner as he sat back down on his 'throne'. "Any true devotee of Talos would see that the Empire is crumbling once again, and that Skyrim needs to abandon a sinking ship."

Vitio did not answer, he let his scowl answer for him. Dengeir smirked as he leaned forward. "Isn't your ancestor the legendary Hero of Kvatch, the savior of the town south of here, Bruma? The champion who aided Saint Martin in his quest to defeat Mehrunes Dagon? The Hero of Kvatch, in his grace and piety retrieved the Divine Blood of Talos from Sancre Tor did he not? And look at you, his descendant, spitting on his ancestor's legendary acts and beliefs."

Vitio snarled mentally. Having a writing based relationship with Dengeir for official business had been taxing mentally, but face to face, the Nord was even more unpleasant. "You tread on dangerous grounds, Jarl of Falkreath, both on a personal and a political basis."

The warning was clear in Vitio's voice, and the look of growing panic on the Jarl's courtiers and stewards managed to rein Dengeir back in. He simply huffed and said, "Very well. I do not wish to spill more blood than absolutely necessary, especially after this fiasco with Alduin. For the moment, I will agree to the renewal of the Truce. Nothing more, nothing less, little Colovian. Is that appropriate enough for the Empire?"

"Yes." Vitio bit back. He thrust the official documents to Tekla, who took them shakily before handing them to the Jarl. The Jarl added his agreement quickly and before long the papers were back in Vitio's hands. Vitio bit his cheeks from the inside before doing the customary quickly walking towards the exit. He had no intentions of staying so close to a person as toxic as Dengeir at the moment.

"Sir Vitio, I am most apologetic for the reckless words of my liege." Tekla murmured as she led him out, out of earshot from the rebellious Jarl.

"That's fine." Vitio shook his head. "I more or less expected this. I expect the same welcome from all the pro-Rebellion Jarls in Skyrim. His words attacking me and my ancestor do sting though, I will admit."

"Your ancestor was a great Hero." Tekla nodded and said nothing much else as she led him outside. "Please enjoy your stay in Falkreath."

Outside, Vitio began to walk towards the Inn he was going to stay for the night, suppressing the anger that Dengeir had elicited. He was in Skyrim for official business, yes, but he needed to stay on the 'good' side of the local aristocracy if he wanted to fulfill his end and secret goals.

Creating a Third Restoration of the Knights of the Nine, ending the Skyrim Rebellion, and bringing an end to the Thalmor threat required he be more amenable to the local lords after all.

As Vitio left towards his inn, he did not see a most peculiar old man hiding in the shadows of the exterior of the Longhouse. Yellow eyes with black slits sharpened in the dark as a mad grin spread over the shadowy face. "Hm…so it begins at last."

Within the blink of an eye, this figure was gone.