Sins of the Past

As Imperius made his way out of the inn, the voice of Akatosh spoke in his head.

'What caused you to so brutally slay the woman? She would have made a fine ally in the upcoming war,' the divine asked. He was a bit shocked at the cruelty and brutality of her death. Akatosh wondered why he killed her. In the past timeline she was a fine warrior, facing down dragons and men alike with a fearless demeanor. She killed almost all who stood in her way. So when the dragonborn slaughtered her instead of taking her on as an ally, he was certainly befuddled by his actions.

'If you are to understand as to why her death was brutal and as to why I killed her, I must show you something. Something that has haunted me for the entirety of my life,' he responded.

He pitched his tent and lit a fire, sat down, and focused on a single memory that would forever haunt him. It made him loose hours upon hours of sleep, sent chills down his spine, and caused him enough grief for a lifetime. The mirror rippled, the scenery changing as Akatosh was pulled into the memory. The setting was Rorikstead, a little farming village west of Whiterun that had not experienced the turmoil and destruction of the civil war, or the dragon crisis. Overlooking the small village were twenty blades armed to the teeth, with Delphine at the front with Imperius beside her. The look on her face was one of sadistic glee and excitement. Her expression would send chills into even the most battle hardened warriors. She turned to her soldiers and raising her sword, began to speak.

"All right blades, we have received rumors that there are dragon cultists who worship and harbor dragons, hiding them from our sworn duty to kill all the dragons in Tamriel. We must show them the right path so that they may turn from their sacrilegious ways to the true path. They will help us, willingly or otherwise, and if they put up resistance of any kind, we must strike them down, for they are too far gone to be saved from the dragon's curse!"

A myriad of agreements and shouts that wished for the death of dragons and their worshipers filled the air. Imperius looked at Delphine with shock. How could she be so callused and detached to even consider, let alone proclaim it as one of the mission goals. They were investigating a report that local villagers had sighted a dragon to the east of their village. The blades were to deal with the dragon menace and make sure that it would not return to harm the people. This village seemed to happen on their march to the area reported to have a dragon. For the entire contingent of men to stop here because of rumors baffled him. He suspected ulterior motives, but he couldn't be sure. Despite his uncertainty, Imperius knew one absolute truth. If what he thought was going to happen happened, there would be consequences. Harsh consequences.

"Delphine, might we reconsider our options on how to deal with the townspeople? They might not be harboring any dragons or their worshipers. If we were to attack them without provocation, we could lose the support of the people," Imperius said.

She turned to the dragonborn. Delphine was in the midst of planning her revenge on those who wronged her people, and the dragonborn just had to interfere. No matter. He was under her thumb, he couldn't do anything to stop what was about to happen. So she decided to ease his mind on the matter, fabricating a lie that was sure to convince him. "Dragonborn, I've dealt with dragon cultists before and have methods to deal with them. Don't forget our true purpose on Tamriel, to destroy the dragon menace and their supporters and sometimes we must go to extreme measures to accomplish that goal."

Imperius, under the sway of the blades, believing their goal was a just one but not willing to go to the extreme measures his partner was, caved in at her convincing. He wasn't one to argue with someone who clearly had more experience in these type of situations by the way she barked out orders with authority and familiarity. However, he had a bad feeling about all of this. This claim that this village is housing dragons and those who worship them seemed farfetched. But nevertheless he accepted their reasoning.

"Yea, forgot that, go ahead, but please be merciful on the townspeople"

Delphine, with a cruel smirk on her face, said, "Oh don't worry dragonborn, we will be "merciful" if they check out, but I can't promise anything if they resist our cleansing mission of Tamriel."

She turned to the village and started walking down the overlook, her twenty blades in tow, Imperius bringing up the rear. The bad feeling worsened as they marched towards the village, causing him to dart his eyes around in search of the cause. He soon refocused his gaze forwards, seeing the town getting closer and closer. The bad feeling soon tripled in intensity. He knew what they were doing was wrong, but he felt powerless. It wasn't right. The blades were to serve the dragonborn. Delphine herself said so. So why did he feel like he wasn't in control of the men that marched ahead of him. He didn't hold their loyalty. Delphine did.

As Delphine and her bodyguard made their way to the village, a militia guard spotted them and raised the alarm, stirring the townsfolk into action, some opening old family chests with weapons and armor that have been passed down since the days of Ysgrammor, others outfitted themselves with imperial chain mail shirts and gladii, grabbing the distinct oval shields of the auxiliary branch of the imperial military.

As this was taking place, Delphine grinned . 'Time to unleash savage vengeance upon this generation of traitors, the betrayal of their forebears to the blades will be met with blood!' she screamed mentally. She couldn't wait to wet her blade with the blood of these traitors. Even though she knew that the ones who had betrayed the blades have long since passed, she didn't care. Her thirst for vengeance would be satisfied by the slaughter of their successors. When the host of blades stopped at the gates of the village, an armed host of townspeople stood to opposed them, in front of the militia stood the acting leader of Rorikstead, known as Galmar the Mighty.

He was of the elven race, that much the townspeople could discern, but of which type he was, he would not tell, so they assumed him a high elf for this skin color. But he was actually a dwemer, a race thought to be extinct long ago. He was the last survivor of his race, there was no question. In his youth, when he was still new to the world and still had hope, he had searched for his kin, going through ruin after ruin in his fervent quest. However, he soon realized that his people were gone, for good. Abandoning the ruin he called home, he made his way inland, finding this quaint little village. He didn't settle down, as he didn't feel the need for propagation. He grew fond of this village and its people over time, and had become its protector.

He stood and sized up the opposing force, noticing the similar style armor the unknown foe wore to the ancient Akaviri people he had read about in the old tomes and texts of his forebears. 'They must be Akaviri, looking for dragons and conquest. I must halt their advance while I still can,' he thought. He knew of the Akaviri's blood lust for slaughter and conquest. And if they were to take this village, which would resist them, he didn't want to even think of the horrors they would suffer.

"So, the Akaviri come to conquer us at last! Well you will be sorely mistaken of you think we will bow willingly!" The population yelled in agreement. The townspeople didn't know who or what these 'Akaviri' were, but if they were the ones threatening their village, they would defend it from these would be conquerors.

'The fool, he doesn't know about the fall of the Akaviri,' Delphine thought. She decided to play along, since the fool will already be dead by the time she was through. "That's right, and we offer you a choice, surrender yourselves to us, and we will spare you. But if you resist, we will use force deemed necessary for you to submit," she said.

At this proclamation, Imperius got a perplexed look on his face.

'Weren't they here to find dragon cultists, what's this about conquest?'

He began to make his way to the front of the host, the blade soldiers impeding his progress at every turn. He gave those who slowed his progress a nasty look, and hurried to get to the front. He had to stop this. This had gone too far. He would not let this stand.

This proclamation riled up the dwemer into battle frenzy, exactly as Delphine had planned. She knew the dwemer were a proud race, never willingly submitting to anyone, even their own kin.

"IF IT'S A FIGHT YOU WANT, 'TIS A FIGHT YOU'LL GET!" the dwemer bellowed. He turned to inspire and rile up his forces into a battle ready state as he was.

As he was riling up his soldiers, Imperius made his way to the front of the bodyguard next to Delphine. "Delphine what is the meaning of this? We were supposed to be on a quest to root out cultists, what's this about conquest!?" Imperius shouted.

She pointed her finger at the battle ready mob and said "They are putting up resistance, and I must act accordingly, now stand aside and let us blades handle this"

He stood in front of Delphine and said, "Wait, let me call my troops. We can settle the matter peacefully and be on our way."

She scowled. If he were to call in his imperial legion, then her plans would fail. She would not allow him the chance to mess everything up. "No dragonborn, this is a blade matter, not an imperial matter. Now stand aside. I will not say this again."

Imperius suddenly remembered the words of Arngeir, back when he was still learning the basic words of power from them.

"Remember dragonborn, the blades may claim to serve the current dragonborn, but they serve only themselves". He blew them off as comments born of anger, seeing the animosity between the two groups. But now, he began to see why he said such words. Imperius, with rage and anger born of just reasons, began to reassert his authority as chief dragon slayer.

"Delphine, as dragonborn, I order you to sta- uhck!" He fell to the ground, clutching his throat where Delphine just hit with the handle of her sword. She grabbed the breastplate of his armor and brought him close to her face. She had enough of this fool's whining and pleading. If he were to stop her plans for righteous vengeance, she would have to kill him. And while he has been an excellent tool to use, he was just a pawn. A replaceable pawn. She didn't need him now. He was kept for appearances.

"Look, you may be dragonborn, but we are in charge. We have been controlling you since the beginning, you belong to us. Now just lay there and be a good dog and let us handle this," Delphine spoke through clenched teeth.

She dropped him to the ground, where he was still clutching his throat, and turned to her soldiers.

"Blades, our moment of vengeance has finally come, today we can wreak havoc upon the spawn of the betrayers, to let all of Tamriel know what happens when you betray the Blades!" she shouted.

The blades began howling with blood lust and battle fury, eagerly awaiting the spilling of blood that would come very soon. As she turned to look at her prey, the militia charged the blades, Galmar leading the charge with a dwemer war hammer in hand. The moment before the battle, the moment before two sides met in bloody destruction, seemed to stretch on forever. But at last, the militia crashed into the lines of the blades, Galmar hacking and crushing his way to Delphine who stood at the center of the formation.

For a moment it seemed like the blades would break under the furious charge of angry townsfolk, seven blades falling in the initial charge alone. Galmar cleaved his way to his quarry, the blades leader Delphine, sending one blade flying with the sheer force of his hammer. He dodged the swing of a blade soldier, and brought his hammer down hard on the helm of the unfortunate soldier, pieces of skull and brain matter splattered onto the blades surrounding him. For a moment he relished the gore and blood of the battlefield. It was a glorious sight to behold. He smiled at the blood coating his war-hammer. This felt great. But as he saw members of the village he knew well be cut down, his blood lust fell, and he regained his mind. He needed to focus.

But as the battle drew on the better trained, professional soldiers that were the blades began cutting down and brutally killing any militia soldier in their reach, pushing the townsfolk towards their village. Even though his battle prowess boosted the moral of his militia, the losses were too high to continue, so Galmar called the retreat.

"Retreat, fall back to the village, protect your families!" he shouted.

As he was making his way to the town he called home, swinging his hammer and knocking aside any blade that got in his way, he was stabbed in the back, the sword piercing his lung and exiting out the right pectoral, blood dripping off of the tip of the blade.

"The last of the dwemer, dying in disgrace at my hands, so pitiful," said Delphine, with a grin that would send a shiver down anyone's spine. Galmar turned to look at her, a smirk on his face which gave her pause. He should be writhing in pain at the moment, yet here he was smirking at her as if he held all the winning cards. Her blade was especially coated in a concoction that was designed to make her opponents feel enormous amounts of pain. The fact that he was smirking at her puzzled her immensely.

"If I'm going down, then you're coming with me!" he shouted, swinging his war-hammer into her chest, sending her flying into the stone wall that guarded the entrance to the town. As he laughed in triumph, several blades soldiers thrust their swords into his chest, killing him instantly. He fell onto his back, with a smile on his face. The rest of the blades rushed towards the town, and the broken militia that defied them.

As this was occurring, Imperius finally was able to breathe properly without problems, and ran after the bloodthirsty blades. He had heard the battle progress as he was incapacitated, and from the looks of it, it was a pretty short battle. But there was still time to fix this. Still time to right a grievous wrong that the blades have committed.

"Stop! Stop this! You're better than this!" he shouted, but it was to no avail as the blades rushed into the town. They ran from house to house, dragging out townspeople, and killing those who resisted. They lined up the captured townsfolk and began burning the village to the ground. The acts committed upon the people of Rorikstead made his face twist in horror and outright astonishment. He had hoped that they were honorable soldiers. At the very least he had hoped they wouldn't behave like barbarians. But apparently he had his hopes too high.

As he watched in horror, he heard a cough behind him. He turned and found himself seeing Delphine walking towards the captured villagers, seemingly without a scratch on her visage. He had seen her lying on the ground in pain, and looking at the corpse wielding a war-hammer, he connected the dots pretty quickly. But it astonished him that she seemed to be perfectly fine, her injury seemingly non-existent.

"Delphine, why are you doing this!" he shouted at her.

She turned to him, eyes filled with rage and hate. He had seen her angry before. It was like a raging fire, burning all in its path before it sputtered out. This however, was different. If her anger was a raging fire, then her rage was a volcano, an unstoppable force of nature that could destroy anything and everything in its path, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. This side of her stunned him. He never knew that she had this much rage and hate towards anyone, let alone an entire village of people. Perhaps he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

"Their forefathers were once blades, helping us in our quest to kill all the dragons. But when the empire and the dominion came to blows, and a thalmor host was at their door, they betrayed us, gave them the location to many of our bases, thousands of blades were slaughtered!" she screamed.

She then calmed down and turned to a nearby blade soldier. "Is this all of them, besides the ones that we killed already?" she asked.

"Yes grandmaster, these are all that remain. What are your orders?"

She pondered for a moment, hand on her chin, as she walked up the line of scared and crying villagers. She enjoyed their looks of fear and terror. Delphine relished in their suffering. It was only a fraction of the pain their forebears caused the blades, but she couldn't complain. She stopped at one elderly man, pulled out her sword, and plunged it into his skull, shocking the townspeople.

"Slaughter every last one of them till nothing is left alive" she spoke with malice.

With that order, the blades began systematically killing the villagers, with atrocities ranging from dismemberment of the bodies, to children being tossed into the flames of burning houses, the parents being cut down as they watched their children burn. Imperius fell to his knees, dropping his shield and covering his face with his hands, tears freely flowing down his face, dripping onto the blood soaked soil. All the while Delphine looked at him with disgust, her face morphing into a sadistic smile as she turned towards the carnage.

Akatosh was pulled from the memory and was speechless, whilst Imperius had broken down completely during the memory, silent sobs wracking his body, a pressure in his throat prevented him from speaking without crying, so kept silent.

'Now do you see why I killed her like I did? That woman was a monster to begin with. With the power that came with me, she had gone mad with that power, stealing lands from Jarls of either side and forcibly conscripting the population into her personal army, brainwashing them into ruthless killing machines. I was foolish and naive to think her reasons were just, but I was horrified at her actions. That is why I killed her, to rid this world of a monster before it could inflict its horrors on others.'

He waited for a response from the being that has helped him in his quest, but got none. He curled up into his sleeping bag and stared at the roof of his tent, his puffy eyes slowly drooping until he fell into sleep's embrace.

The Next Day

4E, 201, 20th of Last Seed

Imperius awoke to the sound of a chicken at the entrance to his tent, pecking his foot that stuck out of the tent. As he shooed away the pestering fowl, he began to ponder on what dragon should he add next in his quest.

'The nearest one is Nahagliiv, he's a Rorikstead,' Akatosh spoke.

He sounded tired, the type of fatigue that comes when releasing bottled up emotions, he's had enough personal experience to know. But he wished not to bother the divine, not wanting to upset him and cause him to curse him with hunchback or something of that sort. So he packed up his camp, put on his armor, and set out to his destination, hoping the dragon would be more cooperative than Mirmulnir.

A little ways from Riverwood, Imperius came upon a Thalmor inquisition team coming up the path, with a nord prisoner in tow. As Imperius walked passed one of the mer, he gave a quick glance at the elf and quickly shifted his gaze forward again, but his slip had not gone unnoticed.

"You there, stop," said the justicar.

He stopped and turned to face the Thalmor. Great, just great. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with this crap, but apparently today wasn't his day. His anger towards the elves began to resurface, and he had a hard time restraining himself from simply slaughtering them outright. He would never forgive the Thalmor for what they did, even if these elves did nothing. He didn't care.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Imperius ma'am," he said.

"You have a guilty look in your eyes, is there something you would like to confess?" she asked suspiciously.

He remembered the treaty the empire made with the elves, the "White-Gold Concordat". One of the terms of the treaty was that the empire ban the worship of Talos, the man turned divine. Now he didn't believe in that certain divine, he worshipped the eight, but he had always hated how they thought themselves superior to everyone else. You could practically see the superiority complex in their eyes. He had to deal with many pompous elven officials back when he was a centurion in Whiterun, always talked down to and insulted at every turn, but he had to reign in his emotions every time in order to keep the peace. He decided that he needed some excitement after the dreary moment yesterday. It would also help him deal with his emotions, so it is pretty much a win-win situation.

"Why yes, I have something to confess. I am a Talos worshipper, and I will free my brother in arms in the name of Talos!" he shouted almost comically.

Imperius pulled out his gladius and scutum, and charged one justicar. He moved past the elf's guard and thrust his sword into his chest, tearing through the breast plate, the tip just poking out the other side. He pulled his blade out of the corpse and quickly blocked a strike from another justicar. He pushed the blade to the side and tried to get inside the elf's guard like the last one, but this one knew better. As Imperius thrust his sword at the justicar's chest, the elf batted his sword away before quickly slashing at his neck. Imperius ducked under the strike and swept the justicar off of her feet, and moved in for the killing blow. As he raised his sword to bury it in the elf's chest, he was blasted off of the justicar by a lightning blast, flinging Imperius into a thick tree.

He groaned in pain as he picked himself up. He HATED lightning blasts. They were the bane of his existence. Nothing seemed to hate him more than lightning blasts. He faced more than his fair share of battle mages, and they all seemed to favor that thrice damned spell. The battle mage who fired the blast seemed pretty proud of himself with a smug look that could curdle butter. He had the sudden urge to cut that look off of the elf's face. He smirked as he faced the two elves. They hadn't seen him serious, and now he figured that they deserve that chance. He slipped into a crouched stance, bringing up his shield to cover most of his body, leaving his face open. As the other justicar picked herself up from the ground, he waited for the elf to fully recuperate. The elves would need every ounce of their strength.

He charged the elves as soon as the justicar picked up her weapon. He blocked the justicar's slash with his shield, pushing the blade away to deliver a kick to the elf's shin. He smirked when he saw the leg bend backwards from the force of his kick, sending the justicar to the ground, clutching at her leg. He then turned his attention back to the battle mage, barely dodging a lightning blast. He sprinted towards the elf, raising his shield to block another lightning strike as he charged, tiny arcs of electricity stung his arm as the energy bubbled and cracked. The battle mage dodged his stab at his midsection, but it had been a feint as Imperius slammed his shield into the elf, knocking the elf over. He quickly finished the elf mage off by slitting his throat, silencing its cries for mercy and forgiveness, and now he turned to the incapacitated justicar.

The justicar was leaning on a nearby tree, trying to get onto her feet. As Imperius began to walk towards her, her face twisted to a grimace as she watched him come ever closer. She gripped her sword tightly, her fist shaking with the amount of force applied to the grip of the blade handle. He paused. Instead of pleading for mercy or her life, she was willingly risking her life by continuing to fight. He admired that. Then he refocused on her blade as it came close to taking his nose off, making him jerk his head back to avoid the deadly strike. For an elf, she wasn't as bad as her kin. Maybe it was some sort of bias clouding his usual feelings, but he held not as much hatred and disgust towards her as he did towards elves in general. He didn't know, but a certain divine was influencing his thoughts, as he saw huge potential in the high elf for the upcoming campaign. He quickly blocked another strike with his shield and disarmed the wounded elf, leveling his sword with her neck. Her fierce, defiant gaze met his without fear.

"Go on imperial! Take my life! Fulfill your treachery by killing me. You will join the stormcloaks soon enough in death!" she shouted.

Imperius looked from her to the tied up stormcloak, who was watching the exchange with baited breath and a prospective gaze in his eyes. He then looked back to the elf and lowered his blade, making the Thalmor give him a confused look, the stormcloak sharing the expression. He walked over to the stormcloak and examined him. The stormcloak asked him why he was waiting to end the elf's life, why he was prolonging the harlot's rightful punishment. Imperius responded by bringing his blade to bear and swiftly relieving the stormcloak of his head, surprising the elf.

He then turned back towards the elf, who was staring at him with a questioning look.

"You wonder why I spared your life when I took the lives of your comrades and the rebel, yes? " he asked.

When he received no answer he continued, sheathing his sword in the process.

"I actually admire your willpower. Your willingness to fight me to the death caught my attention. Unlike your comrades, you have a backbone. You didn't wail and cry, begging me to spare you. You held your sword and didn't back down. Brave, for an elf," he said.

He then walked towards the elf who suddenly tensed at his approach, pressing herself to the tree in an effort to lengthen the distance between her and him. She didn't know what he was planning to do. She figured that he was another rebel hell bent on slaughtering the Thalmor and expelling any foreign presence out of Skyrim. A typical Stormcloak. But when he killed the tied up Talos worshipper and called him a rebel it puzzled her. The imperial said he was a Talos worshipper earlier, yet he had not killed her or saved the stormcloak. He was an enigma. He possessed the confidence and skill of a well trained soldier, and looked the part, but he carried no insignia of any known military in all of Tamriel. She didn't know what to make of him, and that terrified her.

She relied on being able to read people and know how they will act, how they will think, and who they were. It's how she landed the position of a justicar. Her ability to read people and determine who they are and what they believed in was an extremely valued skill to the Thalmor military and foreign ministry. She was offered a position as a diplomat but she turned it down, preferring to take a more active role in the empire. If only she had taken the offer. Then she wouldn't be in this divines forsaken place, in this divines forsaken job, with her comrades dead and her life possibly next. She didn't believe a word that came out of the man's mouth. Such a lesser race was expected to lie in order to make themselves seem equal to the Thalmor. They couldn't be trusted. That much she knew for certain.

Imperius continued to walk, getting so close that he could feel her panicked breath on his cheek. She had the typical facial features of an elf. Pointed ears, yellow eyes, high cheek bones. But she differed from the many elves he had seen in his lifetime. Her eyes weren't as slanted as the usual elf, only halfway. Her lips weren't as thin, rather they were more full, more noticeable. Her hair wasn't the usual color either. It was a light brown rather than the typical blond or dark brown or black. Her skin differed slightly now that he noticed. It was a light tanned color in place of the usual yellowish skin tone of her kin. She was more feminine than her counterparts. Softer expressions instead of the chiseled marble features of her brethren. Her breath smelled of mead and mutton. Which was an odd thing to notice at a time like this but oh well. He saw the potential in this Thalmor soldier, and he wouldn't waste it by killing her. No, she could be of some use to him. Even for a foul elf, she could aid him greatly in his efforts. Then he would rid himself of her once it was over.

"You have admirable and respectable qualities. I like that in a person. Which is why you will help me in my endeavors."

"If you think I will help you with anything you scum, you got another thing coming!" she shouted, spittle spraying onto his cheek.

"You will see things my way, in time," he asked while wiping the saliva off of his cheek.

He reared his fist back and punched the justicar in the face, knocking the elf out, leaving a bruise on her face. As Imperius was cleaning his equipment of elf blood, he realized a flaw with his plan. He would have to carry her. In full armor. While Thalmor armor generally didn't weigh as much as human or dwarvish armor, it still weighed a good five pounds or so. And he was wearing armor that weighed a lot too. Granted he was used to it but still. With a heavy sigh, he picked her up and tossed her onto his shoulder, carrying her like a sack of potatoes. And he would know. In his youth his father was a potato farmer. Yeah, not the most glamorous career a father could have. He always helped with the yearly harvest, carrying around a sack and harvesting the potatoes his father planted in the planting season. He planted them, and Imperius harvested them. Anyways, he groaned at the added weight he put onto his shoulder.

"Great Divines! How much does she weigh?!" he asked incredulously.

He huffed a little as he adjusted to the extra weight, but nevertheless he continued his journey. He knew that he couldn't tote her all across Tamriel with him. She might escape or do something that could jeopardize his mission. Then he had an idea. He knew the perfect place for her.

He quickly went up the steps of Bleak Falls Barrow, ignoring the queer stares he got due to him carrying an unconscious, and possibly dead, Thalmor justicar, but he paid them no mind. He reached the top of the stairs and reached the entrance of Bleak Falls Barrow. He didn't see Mirmulnir anywhere, but he did see the charred and mangled bodies of the bandits that used to live here. The dragon was thorough in his work, that much was certain.

He placed the unconscious justicar next to a pillar and quickly tied her hands together with a leather rope he had made from scrounging up some leather strips from the corpses. He made sure that the rope went around the pillar so that she couldn't simply leave. She would be stuck here until he returned. As he made to leave he noticed her slightly shiver, and a small pang of pity seeped into his heart. Imperius looked around for a corpse that wasn't too mangled or charred and found one with fur armor. Perfect. He relieved the corpse of its apparel, it didn't need it anymore and covered the justicar with the furry material. Even if it was soaked with blood in some areas he figured it would keep her reasonably warm while he was gone. His theory was confirmed when the justicar stopped shivering and snuggled into the material slightly. He didn't worry for her safety. With the dragon nearby, nothing would come near this place in fear of its life, guaranteeing that the elf would be left alone.

Now that that is taken care of he can continue his quest. In the previous timeline, two dragons were near the village of Rorikstead. Perfect candidates for his army. As he was descending the steps, a certain divine made himself known.

"Dragonborn. While I don't mean to intrude onto your thoughts and tell you how you should accomplish your task, I would like to ask you a few questions. My eldest, Alduin, will you include him in your ranks? I know he can be arrogant and brutish at times, but I think he can be an asset to your quest," the divine said, making Imperius pause in his descent.

"My answer is no Akatosh. While Alduin may be useful, the cost would outweigh the benefits. He would constantly cause trouble and may even convince a few drakes to revolt against me in favor of restoring him to his 'rightful place' and frankly I don't want to deal with that. I will make sure that he will not hinder my plans."

"Not the answer I would have liked, but it's an answer nonetheless. In the previous timeline, the first dragonborn, Mirrak, tried to take over Tamriel from Solstheim. How will you deal with him once he returns?"

"I will deal with Mirrak when the time comes. The first dragonborn will know his place as a subordinate or as a corpse. But for now I will focus on gathering forces to my cause, and then conquer some territory to call my own. Until then I will not worry about threats outside Skyrim," he said.

With the matter settled, he resumed his trek down the barrow's steps towards Rorikstead.