Awakening
Imperius paused at Akatosh's words and stared at him in astonishment. He expected for Akatosh to ask him to perform a task along the lines of changing a small, inconsequential event in the chain of events that was his life, as was the norm in folklore and legends, but to rule an entire continent was near insanity. This was unbelievable. He probably wouldn't believe it if it weren't staring at him straight in the face. He couldn't even begin to imagine how he would start this powder keg of an event, let alone plan an effective strategy to carry it out. He needed to know more.
He turned to him and asked,"How would I accomplish this task you have given me?"
Akatosh chuckled. "All in good time Dovahkiin, do you accept my offer?"
Imperius hesitated. While he had experience as a leader of soldiers, he had no knowledge of leading civilians, everyday people whose lives could be changed or drastically altered by his decision. It frightened him that he would be expected to hold so much power, let alone know how to properly use it. While he waged war with those expectant of hardships and the brutality of conflict, he never took the time to consider the civilian perspective. It simply wasn't at the top of his priorities at the time, and to now suddenly be thrust into the role of protector as well as conqueror and general, with their well-being near constant in his thoughts, it made him nervous. He needed time, he desperately needed time to think on this. He didn't want to jump into the task without a clue and wing it for the entirety of his second chance, hoping against all hope that he wouldn't screw up. Imperius needed a plan of action.
"I only ask that I have time to ponder this quest you would have me undertake."
"Take all the time you need, for there is no hurry or rush in the divulgence of your answer in this plane of existence," the divine said with a wave of a golden, celestial wing.
He wandered off a distance from Akatosh, sat down, and began to think. For many days, or whatever was considered days in the plane he was in, he pondered all the possibilities, ramifications, and planned how he would conquer Tamriel. Scenario after scenario he ran through, thinking of how he would deal with each situation, the situation sometimes demanding that he completely rework his entire strategy. It frustrated him, how often he had to rethink his overall plan when a new variable popped up in his head, such as how to deal with possible counter attacks by either the Empire or the Thalmor, or both, proper legislation so that his new nation would prosper and not fall into poverty and decadence. It made his head hurt sometimes. He constantly doubted himself as he came up with his plan, often wondering if fading into the afterlife would be much easier than being thrust back in time to change the fate of the world, and he had no guarantee that he would even succeed. Sure he could change the fate of the world no problem, he was the Dragonborn, but would it be for the better? As this was happening, he also considered the people he will encounter on his world conquest, and pondered on how to deal with those in closest proximity to himself and his new nation.
The Khajiits were, to his concern, rather unknown to him. He couldn't properly prepare for what he had no knowledge of, and that halted his planning and scheming. For long period of time he pondered how to deal with this unknown, the issue making him feel like he grew a few new grey hairs, though he couldn't tell because he was dead nor did he have a mirror on hand to ogle himself with. Then he remembered something. It was a faint memory, but a memory nonetheless. Imperius recalled the Khajiits were trade partners/military allies of the Thalmor during the days of the Stormcloak rebellion. This gave him an idea. The Dominion protected official trade caravans that belonged to the Khajiits, and in return they would accompany the Thalmor in any military campaign or venture, regardless of the risk or the faction they were fighting. If he were to somehow raid the Khajiit's caravans, enough so to prove to the Khajiits that the elves were no longer capable to properly protect their investments, he could potentially remove an entire faction of would be enemies from the equation. Imperius entertained the thought of making the Khajiits allies in his conquests, possibly making them a vassal, but he pushed those thoughts aside, as he had more pressing matters to ponder.
The Imperials when he first came to Skyrim were power hungry individuals, who's military and political leaders would betray one another in order to gain power or attain a higher position. This made stability very hard to come by in the empire. It was one of the reasons there were so many civil wars in the empire's history, making it weak to outside threats and would be conquerors. This weakness would be crippling the empire when he would arrive in Skyrim, a ripe opportunity for him to take full advantage of, so he pushed the Imperials to the side, not really worrying about them as potential rivals. If he were to attain a legion from the Imperials and train the soldiers as he did his previous legion, with the same equipment and tactics, the Imperials would be no threat to his new empire.
With the Imperials checked off the list of potential enemies, he now turned to the Stormcloak rebellion. It was in full swing when he arrived, securely entrenched in the citizenry. The Stormcloak leader preyed on the nationalistic spirit firmly rooted in the nordic people, gaining support for his cause by stirring the people's want for independence, for autonomy. It didn't hurt that a good portion of nords, particularly those in Winterhold, were somewhat xenophobic to those not of nordic origin, something that Ulfric took full advantage of. It would take near herculean efforts or extreme military and political blunders on Ulfric's part to destabilize the image of the Stormcloaks. The Stormcloaks in his past timeline were easy enough to defeat, their narrow set of tactics and somewhat poor equipment would make them easy prey for his legion, once he acquired it. Though dealing with the rebellious populace was a task he had loathed doing the last time he was in Skyrim, and he wished not to do so this time around, so he made preparations for bringing down the near unshakeable heroic image of Ulfric Stormcloak and make the nordic people see how he was the better alternative, one way or the other.
Imperius then had to consider the main threat to his conquests, the main opposition he would be facing after the utter defeat he would hand to the Imperials and Stormcloaks. The Dominion. The elves wouldn't allow a lesser species to rule the continent, they would rather die than allow that to happen. The Dominion would hinder his plans every step of the way. They were strong in the magical arts that related to battle, but other than that, they were less proficient than your average mage, though they didn't believe so. Their military was and still is the largest military force in all of Tamriel. Though their numbers were vast, he could use their large numbers against them. If they didn't catch wind of his actions while he was still in Skyrim, they would definitely get word once he besieges and secures the capital of the Empire and dethrones the Emperor, replacing the vassal of a ruler with himself. Their response would be swift and decisive, as was their attack the previous timeline. He would have to act fast and be at least two steps ahead of the Thalmor if he had any chance of succeeding in this effort, and planned on securing many spies and allies to aid him in that effort.
With all the possibilities considered, he returned to where he was with Akatosh. Imperius approached the divine with surety and confidence in his step, though Akatosh could detect the slight nervousness in his gait.
"Have you considered my offer in full, or do you have doubts about how you will accomplish this task before you, Dovahkiin?" the divine asked, though he already knew the imperial's answer.
Imperius shook his head. "I have considered you offer, and I accept wholeheartedly."
Akatosh nodded and began to chant on the language of the dovah, a ring of light surrounding Imperius. As the chanting grew in volume, so too did the intensity of the light, hampering the dragonborn as he tried to stare at the divine. As the chant reached its crescendo, the light blinding him, the ancient chant rendering him deaf to anything but the chanting itself, he was gone, swallowed by the pure white light that had surrounded him, and then he was gone, an empty space took his place.
Akatosh stared at the spot the mortal was just a few seconds ago, and sighed.
"What have I done? Have I doomed the cosmos with this act of selfishness?" he said as he shook his head with frustration and apparent anxiousness, walking a few paces away from where he was.
"I only hope that the mortal will have the strength and fortitude to face what is coming," he said, creating a mirror with a wave of his winged forelimb. He lightly touched the surface with one of his clawed fingers, watching the surface ripple like a pool of water. The image of Imperius flying through time and space towards his destination filled the mirror. He will observe this mortal and help him along his path for as long as he could. The mirror flickered for a moment, showing an image of destruction and green fire engulfing all of Tamriel, before refocusing on the Dragonborn once again.
4E, 201, 19th of Last Seed
As the light transported him to the farmlands just outside of Whiterun, the voice of Akatosh rang clear in his head. 'Go the watchtower and wait, you will meet Mirmulnir soon', the voice echoing as his armored feet touched the grassy plains outside of the trade city.
Imperius looked around and finally focused on the city he had come to love in his past lifetime, and he barely recognized it. It was hard to look at it without the high and mighty walls he and Balgruff had built, without the expanded quarters of markets and inns and places of industry. Without the watchtowers on the walls that served as beacons of light to travelers and allies alike. He had personally oversaw the construction of the watchtowers and high walls. It brought him great pride to be the architect of such glorious architecture. He was gladdened by the expansion of the markets, grateful for the broadened variety of trinkets, fruits, vegetables, and works of iron and steel. Professions he never knew existed came to Whiterun to take part of the extra business, such as florists and pewter smiths. He dreamed of restoring the city to what he perceived as its former glory.
But now was not the time to daydream, so he shook his head clear of memories of past splendor and began trudging to the watchtower which began his destiny as the Dragonborn, again. On his way to the watchtower, he began to question if Akatosh really gave him all of his shouts he had learned throughout his time in Tamriel.
'Now is the time to test his claim, let's see if he made good on his end of the deal'.
He stopped and turned to where to his knowledge a bandit hid.
This particular bandit scared him the first time around, as he had steel plate armor and an enchanted battle axe which helped it pierce heavy plate armor, and possibly dragon scales, or so he claimed. As it was his first time outside of his homeland, and he had never experienced this before, he was scared nearly out of his boots. But now, he was expecting him, as the bandit had expected him. He walked into the spot where the bandit wanted him to go, and lo and behold, said bandit came running out with the axe in hand, shouting demands and death threats if he didn't comply. Imperius turned, inhaled, and shouted, "Fus Ro Dah!" The thief went flying towards a nearby giant camp and landed next to a mammoth calf, startling the infant mammoth. The thief's leg was twisted at an awkward angle, bending backwards , with a sliver of white bone sticking through his mail trousers.
The brigand moaned in pain and the calf cried out for its mother, said mammoth and its giant caretaker ran to the bandit and smashed him into mush before he could even scream. With the test out of the way, he resumed his trek to the tower, feeling satisfied.
As he made his way, he noticed off to his left a skirmish between imperial soldiers and stormcloak rebels. The rebels were making mince meat out of the imperials, and he couldn't help but feel some sort of sympathy for the soldiers. While he was going to overthrow the Empire, he sympathised with the soldiers that served it. With an annoyed but happy sigh, he made his way to the skirmish. He waited for a good opening to jump into the fight, ramming his sword into the back of one of the three stormcloaks when they strayed too far from the group, catching both the stormcloaks and imperials off guard. As he cut down a second stormcloak, the imperials quickly realized what was happening and sprang into action, surrounding and gutting the last stormcloak rebel. As Imperius turned to leave, he was called over by the imperial soldiers. They thanked him for his help and support for the imperial cause, which he accepted their thanks with grace.
"I cannot thank you enough traveler. We would have been goners if you hadn't shown up," the commander of the patrol said.
"It was no trouble, anything for the imperials. The rebels needed to die. I only helped them meet their fate," Imperius said.
"If you need anything or require help of any kind, ask for Propontus," the commander, who Imperius assumed was Propontus, said, gesturing to his men to head back to wherever they came from.
Imperius made a mental note to take the commander up on his offer, and resumed his trip to the watchtower. He remembered this place vividly, for it was the start of his quest to save the world from the world eater Alduin. He paused in his thinking. He had completely forgotten to consider the dragon in his plans, and his mind was racing a mile a minute to make up for the lapse in planning. He had the framework of a plan as he reached the watchtower, but he needed to get the finer details in order at a later date. But for the time being, he would focus on the here and now. Imperius looked around for any sign of the dragon, and found none. He saw a large slab of rock sticking out of the ground and made his way over to it, sitting down on the mildly uncomfortable seat.
'I hope when Mirmulnir gets here, we can meet on better terms than last time. I would be saddened if I have to slay him,' he thought as his eyelids began to sag. He tried with all his might to stay awake, but with the time spent in the empty plane of existence, and the transportation through time, he was fighting a losing battle and promptly fell asleep, sliding off the slab of rock and face planting on the ground, bottom in the air.
He awoke from a dreamless sleep to the familiar sound of a roar. The roar of a dragon overhead. This didn't cause panic like before, he had gotten used to the sound with all the dragons he's slayed, but it made him wary. Then he tried to open his eyes, and he found himself looking at dirt. Apparently he had face planted when he fell asleep while waiting for Mirmulnir to arrive. He abruptly flung himself from the ground, dusting himself off as he did so. Imperius sincerely hoped no one saw him in such an embarrassing position. He was reminded why he awoke with an earth shattering thud that nearly sent him to the ground. Imperius turned and saw a dragon, the dragon he had been waiting for. Off to the side of his field of vision, he saw a group of soldiers that were sent by Jarl Balgruff in his previous lifetime to kill the dragon, led by the same thane as before. Only this time, someone different was accompanying them. It was a nord of medium build, with leather armor covering his chest and legs, leaving his face and arms free of protection. He was right handed, carrying his iron shield in his left, while gripping a steel sword with his right.
The group was attacking the dragon, the archers firing arrows at the ancient beast, while the ones with melee weapons rushed in close to hack at the dragon. The dragon snatched an unlucky guard from beside his comrade with his jaws and shook him like a dog would a rat, the limp, lifeless body being tossed to the side a few moments later. The beast then turned to the side and spewed a large stream of hellish fire onto another guard, turning the unfortunate soldier into a charred skeleton, the scale armor melting onto the bones, forming a metallic sheen. The nord charged forward towards the dragon, hacking and slashing at the scales of the beast, leaving nicks and groves in the hard material. The dragon looked at the nord and flung him away with a push of its wing, returning its attention back to the fight.
Imperius couldn't help but be in awe at the raw power this dragon exuded. It radiated majesty and terror. The way arrows and swords harmlessly struck its thick scales reminded him of how dangerous these creatures were. It was a familiar feeling, one he relished in. It reminded him of the previous timeline, where he met this dragon for the very first time. He would be lying if he said he wasn't scared of the ancient being. That feeling of terror faded however as he grew more efficient and skilled in slaying dragons, but now the feeling returned full force, and he was overjoyed, a smirk the only thing on his face that betrayed said emotion.
The dragon then took to the air, flinging all but Imperius to the ground. He took off after the beast, sprinting past the downed soldiers who were shakily getting to their feet. He made a mental note to himself to find out who that peculiar nord was once he was done with his task, but pushed it to the back of his mind. Once he made sure he was a good distance away from the soldiers, he prepared to confront the dragon.
He shouted the dragonrend shout, shout flying towards its target, making the beast flinch when it hit its mark. The dragon tried to stay in the air, but the effects of the shout were slowly forcing it to descend to the ground below. Once it landed, the dragon began to furiously search for the cause of his affliction, upending boulders and digging great furrows into the rocky soil of the plains outside of Whiterun.
Mirmulnir looked around, searching for the cause of his inability to fly. His previous encounters with mortals had him under the assumption that most, if not all, were too weak to be able to confront him, let alone defeat him. His fight with the mortals garbed in yellow only confirmed this assumption. No mortal could challenge him. The mortals of this time were not the warriors of old. Warriors who provided a challenge, who could defeat his kin, but at a cost. As he searched for his quarry, he heard armored footsteps headed his way, and turned towards the sound. He was met with the sight of a mortal clad in outlandish armor walking towards him with a confidence he had yet to find in any mortal he had come across. He assumed that this foolish mortal was the cause of his inability to feel the winds of Keizaal, and his anger grew. How dare this puny, weak mortal have the gall to challenge him! He was a dragon, the rightful ruler of this world. This short lived creature knew not its place. He would remind him.
"You are either brave to the point of insanity or extremely foolish to challenge me, mortal," he said.
Imperius stopped twelve feet away from the dragon, remaining silent as the grave. This act of insolence only furthered Mirmulnir's ire. This mortal either has a death wish, or is unbelievably brave, for he smelt no fear emanating from him. Mirmulnir decided that this mortal has lived long enough, and reared back to burn the mortal to a crisp. He breathed fire onto the mortal, bathing him in a golden shroud, the ground beneath his feet turning blacker than the void itself, the ashes of grass being swept away by the force of the flames.
Once he was certain that the mortal was nothing but a charred skeleton, he relented, but was surprised to see that the mortal was still standing. The only indication that the mortal was even affected by his attack was the metal on the shield the mortal wielded being a bright red. As Mirmulnir was pondering as to how the mortal could possibly survive the flames, Imperius charged the dragon, bashing its face with his shield and slashing its snout with his sword.
Mirmulnir reeled back in shock at feeling the sword easily cut through his hard scales. How could this be? His scales were harder than the hardest steel. No blade or arrow could pierce his hide. None have ever left a mark upon his visage. Yet this mortal, this outlandishly garbed mortal, cut through his hide like a hot blade through butter. His surprise quickly turned to anger and he spewed forth a wave of hellfire, the mortal barely dodging the rolling wall of death. He snapped his jaws at the mortal, his teeth scraping against the wood and metal of the mortal's shield, quickly drawing back as he was cut once again by the impudent mortal. This will not stand! This mortal will grovel, and plead for mercy upon his death, but he will be denied this luxury. His visage will be the last thing he sees. He. Will. BURN!
Imperius leaped out of the way of another wave of dragon fire, the flames scorching the ground where he stood. He charged the beast, stunning the dragon with his shield before quickly delivering a few well placed strikes, the sword tearing and slicing through the dragon's scales. The dragon roared with rage and breathed fire in Imperius's direction, who once again dodged the deadly flames. Imperius had gotten the drake's attention, and now began the task of bending the mighty dragon to his will. He rushed the drake, stunning it once again with a bash from his shield, and then sprinted away to a spot a few feet from the dragon.
"Gol...HAH DOV!" he shouted.
The shout made the dragon flinch when it hit, the drake desperately fighting the effects of the words of power. The power this mortal displayed was beginning to frighten him. No...he was not frightened, because dragons do not fear mortals in the slightest, but was merely unnerved at the power this particular mortal wielded. If this mortal were to win, to bend him to his will, then his master's plans would be hindered, and his master was not the forgiving type. It would be an affront to all that he is if he were to cave to the wishes of a mere mortal. He ruled over the mortals for eons with his kin, it was his birthright. It would not be taken from him by a worthless, insignificant human. Though he regarded his foe with derision and scorn, he couldn't help but be reminded of the warriors of old as he fought this human. He fights with the same ferocity, the same determination, the same level of skill and power. He respects those worthy of being respected. But that doesn't matter now, what matters is killing the mortal so he could establish his master's rule over Keizaal once more, to fulfil his master's will. Once he was sure that his mind was free of the effects of the shout, he returned to the fight with an enraged roar, wildly snapping his jaws at the mortal, desperate to end the mortal's life to preserve his own.
Imperius blocked a strike from the dragon's tail, pleasantly surprised by the dragon's unpredictability. The dragon's he faced in his previous lifetime, including the one he is facing now, were horribly predictable in their attack patterns. It turned the blood pumping, adrenaline rushing activity of hunting dragons into an outrageously boring chore. As he blocked and dodged the dragon's various attacks, he noticed a hint of desperation in the way the dragon attacked. Perhaps the beast realizes the gravity of the situation, or perhaps it is a different reason altogether, he had no way of knowing. He once again was waiting for the perfect time to use the shout. However, the dragon was careful not to let him use the power of the voice, keeping him on the defense, never letting him stop for even a moment.
As the titanic battle between the two combatants raged on, the soldiers and nord from earlier watched on in unabashed awe of such power and skill. The nord was astounded by the level of skill and dexterity that the imperial possessed. He even regarded him as a clearly competent warrior, even though he was an imperial milk drinker. This display also reminded him that he was woefully unprepared to fight a dragon. These were beasts of legend, creatures who nearly tore the world asunder during the Great Conflict between man and dragon oh so long ago. How could he have thought that he was even close to being ready to fight it.
He felt so sure of himself, so confident in his skill. He had slain warriors that were greater than him in single combat. But those victories, those tests of skill were all but meaningless in the face of the force of nature that was a dragon. He was so confident when he accepted this quest, but now he wasn't so sure. The guards around him were muttering to themselves, wondering who this mysterious warrior was and how he had survived this long against a bloodthirsty dragon, and what was that shouting they were hearing.
Imperius was impressed by the persistence of the dragon and the intellect it possessed when it came to combat. It clearly had a mind for combat, perhaps even strategy. This dragon will make for a fine ally, perhaps even more. An hour had passed since he used the bend will shout and he had yet to find an opportune moment to finish off the dragon, as its unpredictable attacks kept him on his toes. He dodged the incoming forewing of the beast, being pelted by dirt and rock flung by the force of the attack. He quickly slashed at the forelimb with his sword, causing the dragon to roar with pain and anger. Imperius barely raised his shield in time to block the deadly stream of dragon fire, the flames licking at the edge of his shield, promising a savage, painful death should he let his guard down. He panted heavily as he tried to keep his shield up to block the attack, feeling his forearm slightly burn from the heat of the fire. He charged the dragon once the flames had stopped and stunned the beast once again, retreating a ways to deliver the final blow. He enjoyed the fight with the dragon, it was a nice change of pace from the muscle memory bouts he had before this meeting, but it was time to get back to business. He had a world to conquer, and he couldn't waste time indulging in his urge for combat.
The dragon, either sensing that the battle was at an end, or knew what he was about to do, tried desperately to recover from the mortal's attack, charging at the mortal in the hopes of stopping him. But it was in vain. Imperius shouted for the second and final time, stopping the drake in its tracks, its head bowing in reverence to the power he wielded.
"Y-You have proven the strength of your Thu'um mortal. I now serve you thuri," Mirmulnir said.
Imperius walked up to the dragon, standing only a foot away from the immortal creature. He never truly appreciated the astounding strength and ferocity of a dragon, their visage a sight to behold. In his past lifetime, in his fervor to learn all the shouts known to users of the voice and to rid the world of a supposed threat, he had killed every single dragon in Skyrim. His life became boring with monotony after the great drakes were gone. Granted he had to deal with rebellions every now and then, and then the Thalmor invasion soon after, which helped alleviate the boredom somewhat. But nothing came close to the excitement of facing down a beast that could burn you alive in a blink of an eye, even if it became somewhat of a chore. He thought them mindless beasts, slaves to their instincts and base desires. But now, he knew better. With this knowledge, he became somewhat saddened at the senseless slaughter of the dragons. Saddened that in his original timeline he had driven them to extinction for the final time in his ignorance of their intellect.
Then his spirits lifted. He was in a different timeline now, his actions beforehand meaningless. The dragons were around in this timeline, and he promised to himself that he would keep them alive, either by ensuring their neutrality or by adding them to his ranks, but he would keep them alive.
"I have a task for you, Mirmulnir. You are to go to Bleak Falls Barrow, and clear out the infestation of bandits and looters. Once that is done, you are to await my arrival," he said.
"Your wish is my command, thuri. I shall clear the barrow of mortals as you have asked, in preparation for your arrival," Mirmulnir said. He was surprised that the mortal knew of his name, as many who knew had long since passed. Many of this age were ignorant of dragons beyond their legends and myths. But this mortal seemed to know more than he first suspected. This one was strong, stronger than most in this new age, perhaps rivaling the warriors of old, but he couldn't be sure. He took to the air, relishing the feel of the icy winds on his scales. The task that the mortal gave him was child's play. Killing mortals was easy, but apparently there were still a select few who could provide a challenge. Nevertheless, he would perform his task with dignity and efficiency.
Imperius smiled slightly when he heard Mirmulnir roar, the sound echoing throughout the plains. Oh divines how he missed that sound. He now turned his attention back to Alduin. In the previous timeline he would be at the Greybeard's beck and call for the first few quests he would have to deal with in regards to the black drake. He thought it would be the excitement he would be looking for when he heard the voices shout his title, but it was meaningless pacifist drivel. Granted he didn't care for Delphine's brutal methods either, but he preferred action over inaction. Speaking of Delphine, he knew that either he would have to convince her to join his side, or he would have to remove her from the equation. The latter option he had no problem with, in fact he would relish the chance to take her out, but the former would require some work. With this in mind he began his trek from the watchtower to Riverwood, not noticing the group of soldiers gaping at him in fear and awe.
He stopped before the gates of the quaint, quiet village. He remembers the first time being here. The new sights, sounds, and smells. He smiled in nostalgia. He walked by the blacksmith's place of business, giving a friendly wave to the blacksmith himself. In his past lifetime he and the blacksmith became good friends and business partners. Imperius would get him materials he needed, and Alvor would repair the armor of his soldiers for next to nothing. There was a slight drawback to this new timeline thing. He didn't have the relationships he had in his old timeline, and as such couldn't rely on the same people he used to. But regardless, he would secure alliances and strategic players to secure his place in Skyrim.
Imperius walked up to the tavern, excitement and anxiousness nearly clouding his thoughts. He had to get himself under control before he did this. He needed a clear mind in order for this to be pulled off without too much trouble. Sighing once he cleared his mind, he entered the tavern, slightly smiling at the smell of smoke and ale, of men who might not have bathed in a few days. It was all familiar to him and yet in a sense, he was experiencing it for the first time in his new life.
He surveyed the tavern as he walked to a far corner shrouded in shadow. It was pertinent that he remain anonymous at this point in time. Becoming known to the people would come later. Right now, he needed to be able to be forgotten if a person was to see him, like a passing face of a traveler. He pulled a chair to the corner, and grabbing an unopened ale from the table, watched the tavern for his target. He lightly sipped from the bottle, snatching a piece of bread from some poor drunk's plate, nibbling on it to minimize the drink's effects. He wasn't much of a drinker, preferring honeyed mead and wines over ale and other stronger alcohols, but he would drink one if it would help him blend in.
It didn't take long before he spotted his target. She was idly cleaning a glass, a front to take attention away from her searching eyes. She scanned the tavern, but for what he didn't know. A few minutes of this went by, Imperius watching Delphine, and Delphine searching for something or someone. Then snippets of conversation reached his ear, and the topic piqued his interest.
"...the outlander was like nothing I've ever seen. He fought the dragon like it was child's play-"
"...garbed in outlandish armor he was, stood as tall as a giant. I seen him with my own eyes-"
Ah, the rumors have already started. News apparently traveled extremely fast in this timeline. This did not bode well. If he were to stay around longer than necessary, he would be spotted and this whole escapade of secrecy and anonymity would be pointless, wasted time. He stood up from his dark, yet comfortable corner, and made his way to the counter, placing his ale and bread on an abandoned table. He heard the door open and close, but he paid no heed to the noise. He walked up to the counter, leaning on it as he got Delphine's attention.
"What's your poison?" she asked as she idly cleaned an already spotless tankard.
He didn't have time for small talk. He was already getting queer looks from the men at several tables, some gesturing towards him. He already exposed himself, and now he needed to get this done as quickly as possible.
"Are you Delphine?" he asked. She momentarily tensed, her hand cleaning the tankard still as the grave. She put the tankard down and turned towards him with a steely gaze full of suspicion and a tiny hint of fear.
"Who's asking?"
"Someone with information regarding a certain someone called the Dragonborn. I'm sure you are familiar with the title, yes?"
She scoffed. "The Dragonborn? The Hero of Legend who would save the world from destruction? That's a myth. A legend. Nothing more," she said with a neutral tone that belied a tone of wistful sadness. "Now if you have nothing more to offer, I have other patrons to attend to," she said with a sudden brisk tone, moving to another spot down the counter.
So tempting her with info on the Dragonborn didn't work. Imperius guessed that he would have to try a more meaningful approach.
"I have information on the location of Esbern, if the name rings any bells," he said.
He smirked at his less than tactful execution of his plan, but it worked nonetheless as she stopped dead in her tracks, whirling towards him with a guarded look. It was a look he had seen many times in his past lifetime, and he wasn't all too fond of it. She quickly walked to where he was, silently gestured towards a room he was all too familiar with. She told another person manning the tavern to take over for her, receiving a noncommittal grunt in reply. He followed her to the room, walking past her as she closed the door. He turned to speak, but was shoved against the far left wall of the room, and felt a cold, sharp blade press against his neck.
"Who are you? And how do you know about Esbern" she asked in a fierce tone.
"I would advise that you take this knife off of my neck before things get ugly," Imperius said in a tone that promised pain if she didn't listen.
She glared at him with the intensity of the sun, but sighed in defeat and removed the knife from his neck. She loses her target in the tavern, and then this man, this outlandishly garbed man comes barging in asking about the Dragonborn and spouting that he has information regarding her old friend Esbern. So far it has been a rough day. She wanted to slit the man's throat for talking to her in such a tone, but if she wanted to find out where Esbern is, he had to be kept alive. Once she had the information, he was of no use to her, and she certainly didn't want him in the blades. She smiled inwardly at the ways she imagined killing him, but refocused on the outlander.
"You said you have information regarding Esbern. Spill it," she demanded.
Imperius raised an eyebrow at her demand. He had known her to be impetuous and arrogant at times, but this was new. While his ire was raised by her insolence, he had to make sure she would either aid him in his plans, or stay out of his way. He needed to make sure she wouldn't cause trouble for him later on. Imperius didn't want to deal with rebellions and insurrections while he fought to control the entire planet. It would place way too much stress on him for it to be possible for him to function right.
"Mind your tongue, lest you want it cut from behind your teeth. Regarding the information on Esbern, I will not divulge the secrets in an unprotected tavern room. If you can provide a more secure location, I will be happy to tell you everything I know. But until then, my lips are sealed," he said, inwardly smirking at her annoyed expression.
Delphine looked to her left, internally debating as to show this stranger her safe room, where she kept priceless artifacts from the age of the Blades, back when they were at their most powerful. Why should she trust this total stranger with a secret that could get her executed on the spot for being a Blade. However, the information regarding Esbern was important, and she needed every Blade that could be found if what the reports have said were true. Dragons were returning, and it was up to the Blades to stop them. She sighed once again, and nodded her head towards the secret passageway that led underground to her base of operations. She sincerely hoped that she made the right choice.
Everything was going as planned. He had gained access to the hidden room under the tavern. As they walked down the stone stairs, he couldn't help but wonder as to how this will turn out. On one hand, he would kill her and be done with it. On the other, she would join his forces in his conquest of Tamriel. He would see how things played out. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Delphine went to one side of the table and he the other. He told her everything. How he had died. His deal with Akatosh. His travel through time. Him being the dragonborn, and everything regarding Esbern. She was silent throughout his tale, secretly moving closer to the man, clenching a dagger in her left hand behind her back. She was waiting for the information regarding Esbern, since it was the only thing keeping the man alive. And now that she has it, she was glad to finally be able to rid herself of this annoyance.
When Imperius was through speaking, she had moved so that she was close enough that he could see the colors of her iris. How she had moved without him seeing, he didn't know. As he was waiting for her to respond, he noticed that her left hand was behind her back, and had some inkling as to what she held. He was proven right as she suddenly tried to stab him with a wicked knife clenched in her left hand, Imperius grabbing the offending limb just moments before the blade could make contact. She struggled to make the blade meet its target, but this man's strength clearly outmatched her own. She looked up to the man's face, only to see a chilling grin seemingly etched onto his face. He leaned in close, close enough to feel her rapid breaths caress his face, and whispered in an equally chilling tone.
"You shouldn't have done that, my dear."
Her left arm was wrenched to the side, the limb bending at an unnatural angle. She grunted loudly in pain, the feeling of her muscles ripping only worsened as he bent it even further, causing her to drop the knife. When she heard the blade clatter against the stone floor, she knew that her death was upon her. She was picked up and slammed onto the floor, knocking the wind out of her. She rolled out of the way just in time to dodge a blade stabbing into the rock, the owner yanking it out. She desperately tried to get to her feet, hoping that once she has that she would be able to grab a sword off of the racks, giving herself a chance to survive this. But her hopes were dashed when she was kicked in her midsection, crying out slightly when she felt some of her ribs crack.
Imperius watched her fall back to the ground after his kick, the blade clutching at her ribs. She had caused him hell in the past timeline, and she was going to pay. He grabbed her by her hair, and slammed her head against the table. He watched as she fell back with a dazed expression, her hands covering her head in an attempt to lessen the pain. He didn't give her that reprieve as he slammed his fist into her solar plexus, feeling some of the bones give under the pressure. Imperius then took out his sword, the metal blade glinting in the candle light. He grabbed her hair, and holding it up to get a better view of her neck, rent her head from her body, watching as her eyes stared blankly with terror.
Imperius looked upon her corpse with barely veiled disgust, and left back the way he came, leaving the tavern. What he failed to notice was the nord from earlier, nursing an ale with a loaf of bread in his hands, watching him leave the tavern with a suspicious look in his eye. The nord got up, and followed his quarry, determined to get some answers.