The Spirit Endures
Or; The Ysmirid
Prologue
"To be a Reachman, more than anything, is to resist oppression. It's not about blood, it's never been about blood. It's to look past the crags and cliffs and find a way to the silver beneath. It's too look beneath the Karth's dangerous surface and instead find a source of life. Never forget that Faolan. To be a Reachman is to resist!"
Those were the last words his da had spoken to him before he was taken away. Working the smelter, living in the Warrens, the prayers… All had led to the moment where his da was sent to Cidnah.
Faolan's father assured him that this was bound to happen eventually, that it was the fate of all Forsworn and Reachmen unless they retook their home from the Nord. But Faolan was alone now. His mother had died when he was young, and the rest of his family died at various points during the Occupation. And now he had no home to return to. Even a life in the Warrens seemed preferable to the future that awaited him outside the walls, wherever the caravan took him.
Their plan wasn't safe, not really, but it was all they had. The carriages were shoddy, their weapons were more makeshift than those of the fighters in the hills, and half of the men hadn't been properly vetted. But somehow the caravan was to travel throughout the Western Reach, the Dragontail Mountains, and Northern Cyrodiil, and survive the journey home. What made the proposition so risky wasn't the makeup of the caravan but rather it's contents. Several of carriages' worth of silver painstakingly stolen and hidden from the smelters over the course of a decade would be used to buy weapons and armor and entice their brothers and sisters abroad as well as sympathizers of other races to join their cause as militants willing to storm one of the most secure cities in the world.
It wasn't Madanach's plan and it certainly wasn't the plan of the Hagravens but it was a plot his father crafted from years of toiling amongst the smelter workers. It wasn't Red Eagle's Fury but it could very well end up saving the Side.
As the morning sun pierced the fog that had built up after several days of rain, Faolan ignored his comrades and turned back towards the City of Stone-his home-and he vowed that he would return one day.
Faolan would return with the tools and men necessary to free his home and, together, he and his father would breathe in air free of coal and the metallic scent of blood that they and countless others had unjustly become accustomed to.
"Our day will come." he murmured to himself as he turned to rejoin his brothers and sisters.
Author's Note:
Here's my new story. There's a lot of things I plan to achieve when writing this. Some warnings: this isn't a story that's gonna focus on romance, don't really have any pairings in mind but I do know that it isn't Dragonborn x Lydia. I apologize for, like, inconsistent capitalization on some stuff like the races and other lore things. I don't wanna detract from the magic of Elder Scrolls but, in a sense, this will be more of a materialist story in a sense. The Dragonborn is a Reachman so a lot of the story will be from his perspective as a Reachman. Also, this will also contain some different interpretations of the canon and the lore, that kind of goes back to the materialism thing. Also, I'm a busy person so I apologize if the releasing of chapters isn't very consistent, scheduling-wise.
That's pretty much it, I guess. Hope y'all enjoy the story. Reviews are cool.