4E, 202, 3rd of Morning Star

"The wall looks good Marianus, keep up the good work." He paused to take a breath. "Men, put some stakes here and here. We need to negate the imperial's cavalry," Imperius said, overseeing the construction of the defensive wall being built, adding more walls to Riverwood and entrenching it, building gigantic ballistae battlements and archer towers. When Imperius got the news that imperial and stormcloak forces engaged each other near the location of the Imperium's mine about a week ago, he began to worry. If either side were to send their full force against him at his vulnerable juncture of the campaign, he doubted that his men here could hold back the tide. The rest of the legion wouldn't make it in time to save Riverwood or the men, they would only be able to halt the enemy's advance near Falkreath. Beyond that, the path to the citadel lay open, with a skeleton of a garrison manning the walls of the capitol. The dragons would prove extremely effective in any action they were included in, but he didn't want to use them too often. He wanted to save them so that they could shock and awe any enemy force the Imperium faced, spreading panic like wildfire and utterly devastating any army within minutes of taking the field. If he used them regularly, then the enemy would become used to them, develop strategies to deal with them, even possibly take them down, as far fetched as it seemed. His men were spread too thin for his liking. Too many positions to garrison, not enough manpower to fill them.

"Imperius, where do you want the ambushes at, and how many ?" Valian asked.

"I want ten ambushes with fifty men in each one along the main road. Once they engage, have them target important regiments and deal some casualties, then pull back into the forest. Then have them make their way here to the defensive line, I'll leave placement up to you Valian" he said, watching Valian round up the men needed for the ambushes and leading them to the ambush spots.

"How's the design for the new weapon coming along Galba?" he inquired. It has been some time since he has had an update on this particular special project. He chalked it up with them being too focused on getting the mechanics of said war machine right to deliver regular updates, but was growing somewhat concerned as well as curious.

"The new weapon is coming along fine sir, it should be done in about a month's time. I must say, where did you come up with the designs for this new weapon of yours sir?" Galba said, with an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I drew inspiration from our imperial counterparts, improving upon their designs. I thought we could have an advantage over our enemies more so than what we already have."

The centurion nodded and went back to his task of drilling his men in their formations. Imperius had ordered Galba to drill his men in their formations just outside the walls of Riverwood, making their movements more fluid and faster, improving the formation's staying power and strength. Imperius made notes of how his men moved from a parapet on the newly constructed walls, their strengths and weaknesses had become apparent recently, and he needed to correct this. He had seen how the jarls' forces had punched through their lines, and was not pleased with the way his soldiers gave way so easily. It had caused him some worry as to the quality of soldier that he was using, and asked Galba to show him the training regimen that he was using on the soldiers, or more specifically the recruits. It was the same as for regular legionaries. No difference could be seen. Then the answer came to him. From Galba's reports, he learned that the center line was made up of new legionaries that had only finished training that day when the combined armies charged the formation, and they broke under such strain. They needed to be blooded properly, in a proper pitched battle. A hasty siege defense was an ill time to gain one's appreciation for their training and their brother's in arms. A pitched battle would do wonders to improve his men's skills and help them gain experience that would benefit them later.

' How the jarl's forces punched through our defenses is unacceptable. I will make sure that our soldiers are the finest on Tamriel . We will need such soldiers for the wars to come, ' he thought.

He would like to watch his men perform more of their maneuvers, but he had something to attend to. He made his way off of the wall parapet and towards Mirmulnir, whom was also watching the military maneuvers from the top of the tavern nearby.

The dragon wouldn't admit it to anyone, even to himself, but he was impressed by Imperius' knowledge of battle strategy and tactics. He assumed that Imperius was like any other mortal when it came to battle, charging headlong without even a simple strategy to help them gain victory, trusting their combat prowess to win the day. All brawn but no brains. Imperius however, had both. He was an accomplished warrior, that he was certain of, but he had a certain air of intellect. Not like magi or full time scholars. He had dealt with plenty of those in the past to know that was not the case. However, he was of sound mind and possessed cunning when it came to waging war. He often wondered how things would have turned out if he had stayed loyal to Alduin, if he had killed Imperius before he could have been recruited to the mortal's cause. He mused that things would be completely different, but the extent of that difference he couldn't fathom.

He also mused on how different the mortal felt. He was different from most others, there was no question, but he was different in a specific facet. He felt out of place. Everyone else, from the centaurs to the legionaires, even the metal giant felt as if it were a part of the world. Imperius, however, felt like an outsider, as if he weren't supposed to be here, a foreign object placed here by some outside force with the power to do so. During some conversations he had with the dragonborn, he would often catch the dragonborn catching himself mid-sentence on certain topics, or observe him speaking with either fondness or intimate anger on other topics, as if he knew of them before, and had handled them for long lengths of time. He was an enigma, and he wanted to find out more, but couldn't think of how to broach the subject without it being immediately shot down or redirected to a different topic altogether, never to be brought up again. He will ask his kin, those he held in high regard and close confidence, about this. Hopefully they have some solutions.

The dragon was broken from his musings when Imperius came up to him, asking him for a flight back to the citadel. The dragon huffed with mock annoyance, muttering under his breath how demeaning it was that he, a mighty dragon, was reduced from an unstoppable force of nature to a pack mule, and Imperius chuckled at the mutterings, with Mirmulnir chuffing along with him. The two had grown somewhat close since their first meeting at the Western Watchtower, and every now and then consulted with each other regarding matters that most couldn't relate to. Specifically, things about dragons.

Imperius would ask Mirmulnir about the time when dragons ruled over mortals, how the dragons came to be, and how did the language and culture of the dragons develop. Interesting questions that most normal mortals would never think to ask. Imperius wasn't a normal mortal, and Mirmulnir was somewhat pleased that he was asking those sorts of questions, as most mortals would try to kill dragons on sight, and most didn't have the slightest inkling of curiosity when it came to dragons. The two would sometimes talk for hours about said subjects, often losing track of time, which was ironic in a way.

The two made their way to the citadel, passing over the lands of the Imperium. They saw that many of the rundown, crumbling watchtowers that dotted the landscape were restored to their former glory and garrisoned with legionnaires whom waved as they passed overhead. They soon landed in the citadel courtyard, with the passing soldiers, blacksmiths, and people of other professions not even giving them a second glance, as dragons had become such a recurring sight for them that seeing one solicited no reaction other than to not be accidentally stepped on. When they saw Imperius sliding off of the dragon however, they immediately stopped and saluted him where they stood. Imperius nodded in their direction, and they resumed their tasks.

Imperius thanked the dragon, whom took to the skies, and made his way inside, through the main hall and war room, down to the prison cells. Inside a cell at the far end of the room was the justicar, sitting down with a sour look on her face, which turned to rage upon seeing him. She had been asleep for about three days since the Imperium had moved from Bleak Falls Barrow, and when the newly formed empire took Lagash Citadel, had placed her within these cells, not really sure what to do with her. The guards had given her food and water, and made sure to keep her in as good of condition as one can manage in a prison cell, since Imperius thought she was important, they made sure to keep her intact.

"Why do you torment me? Is it not enough to have me imprisoned, far away from the sun and life, but now you come here to gloat? May the divines curse you!" she said in a harsh tone.

"All of this torment can end, if you join me and my cause. You have so much potential. I'd hate to see it wasted," Imperius said.

"And like I have said numerous times beforehand, I'll never join you!"

"Well, let me put it this way. You can stay here for the rest of your days, rotting in this dank, dark and depressing cell, dying of muscle entropy and malnourishment, your potential untapped, or you can join me, fight for me, and gain glory and honor, realizing your full potential. It's your choice," he said to the elf.

The justicar was about to retort with an insult, but a thought crossed her mind, and she immediately became pensive. Did she really want to spend her life in this cell, slowly becoming decrepit until decay takes her? It didn't seem right. She didn't know where she got this thought from, but it swayed her opinion on serving this arrogant imperial greatly. She tried to reason against it, but it overcame every argument she could conjure up until she was left with no other option.

She huffed.

"Fine, I'll join you. But you will treat me as an equal, or you can kill me on the spot," she said.

Imperius nodded to this, albeit in a strained manner. A reasonable request, if it were from a human, or any other race for that manner, but it was from an elf, and he was reluctant to grant it, but nonetheless did.

"Excellent. From this point onward you are part of the Imperium. You will obey all of my commands without question or hesitation, if not I will personally strike you down, are we clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good, now if you would join me, I need some input on this defensive work I've been working on in preparation of a supposed attack, and I would like yours," he said, walking out of the holding cells.

The elf grumbled, but followed her new commander through the citadel, winding through the hallways and rooms until they reached a courtyard. Imperius stood in the middle of said courtyard, looking towards the sky, which puzzled the elf. Then, he shouted.

"MIR...MUL NIR!"

The volume and force of the shout shook everything around Imperius, making all those in the courtyard pause for a moment, staring at their leader, before shrugging and returning to their tasks. The elf, on the other hand, was staring at the imperial with abject fear and wonder. She had been in Skyrim long enough to hear about numerous legends and myths, particularly about a shouting person who supposedly had the blood of dragons running through their veins. She had scoffed at that. A shouting person, having dragon's blood? Ha! Yet now, she wasn't scoffing. Her fear turned to terror when she heard a blood curdling roar, and she almost passed out on the spot when a large dragon landed next to Imperius, and in effect, right next to her.

She, like with everyone else in the world, thought that dragons were driven to extinction by dragon hunters of old, wiped off the face of Tamriel. Myths even. Some even doubted their existence. Yet here was undeniable proof that said otherwise. As she was still coming to terms with the existence of dragons, her mind ground to a halt when the imperial climbed onto the beast! She might not care about him, but she wanted to shout at him to not be so stupid. The moment passed, and what truly made her mind stop working for a few seconds was when he gestured to her to climb onto the thing! Like Oblivion she would! But she couldn't disobey her commander now, she would most likely be killed on the spot considering that she was in the heart of this imperial's territory, and with extreme reluctance, climbed onto the russet colored scaled beast. She shifted a bit after sitting down behind Imperius, her nervousness and the uncomfortable seat didn't help to make things easier.

With the dizzying feeling of being suddenly thrust into the air, she unconsciously clung to Imperius, holding onto him like a lifeline. For the duration of the flight back to Riverwood, she was beyond terrified, her white knuckles a testament to her iron grip on Imperius. The imperial inwardly laughed at her, and fondly remembered his first dragon ride atop Odahviing. He had gripped the dragon's scales so hard he thought that he broke his fingers, the cold only making things worse when he was eventually peeled off of the drake, said drake had laughed at him afterwards for it.

They touched down, and when Imperius offered to help her off the dragon, the justicar didn't even hesitate to take it. Mirmulnir nodded at Imperius and took off into the skies, roaring as he did so. Imperius looked at the dragon with reverence and awe, while the elf was terrified of it. Imperius then made his way to the wall being constructed, stopping when he realized that the elf was still standing in the same spot she stood in when she got off Mirmulnir.

"Hey! You ok there?" he asked.

The question snapped the elf out of her trance, and as she processed the words, quickly made her way to his side. Together, they made their way to the walls and onto the parapets, with Imperius asking her questions, and the elf answering in return.

Whiterun

"I will not give up my freedom. Whiterun will stand neutral, we have told you this already Ulfric."

The jarl of Windhelm made a frustrated noise, and continued to lay his case before the jarl, telling him how much better his people's lives would be if they joined his cause. So far the negotiations haven't gone the way the Stormcloak leader had hoped they would. This neutral jarl just wouldn't budge on his position, no matter how he framed his side. Couldn't he see that Skyrim free from the choking grip of the dying Empire would benefit all, especially those who pledged their allegiance to him? The Stormcloak guards shook their heads at their leader's ill fated attempts to get the stubborn jarl to side with him, whirling to the door as Tullius entered, the sounds of swords being drawn from their scabbards filling their ears.

"Let him pass. General, if you would be so kind as to leave your men at the door with Ulfric's so we can have a civil conversation," Balgruff said, sweating nervously at the tension in the air. The imperial general nodded and left his men at the door and made his way to his throne standing a good two feet away from the nordic jarl.

"This better be good Balgruff, otherwise I will capture this rebel and give him a traitors death."

"I would love to see you try imperial dog," Ulfric retorted, slowly putting his hand on his sword, Tullius doing the same.

The jarl grew worried, he didn't want his lands to bear witness to the civil war that plagued Skyrim. This meeting between the two sides of the conflict was a big gamble on his part to keep the fighting out of his lands. If war was brought to his people, to his lands, he wouldn't be able to collect revenue from his people, which would lead to less gold in his coffers, which in turn would halt his spending on feasts for his vassals, which in turn would make just a huge mess of things. He had thought of the idea of making the two sides not fight each other in his lands, but he didn't think of how to implement it, to execute it effectively. He was beginning to regret not thinking this through. Then suddenly, he had an idea. What if he could make the two fight the rebels that have taken the Falkreath hold and killed his friend Siddgeir? He would be able to get rid of the rebels and get his town back, and punish those who so readily sided with the enemy. And if both sides were to complete their task, they would probably fight each other before coming back to Whiterun, leaving only one side to deal with, or neither if they slaughtered each other in the process.

"Choose your side jarl, you are either a true nord, or an imperial dog waiting for orders," Ulfric said, eyeing Balgruff, waiting for his response.

"I won't join either side until one of you help me with an issue I have been having. A rebel by the name of Imperius took my town of Riverwood, captured and secured the entirety of the Falkreath hold and its territory, and managed to kill Siddgeir himself. I will join the side that gets rid of these rebels first."

The two enemies looked at each other. This is the deciding factor? Killing rebels? Then they smirked, thinking this would be the easiest task they were asked to complete. Ulfric and Tullius agreed, both heading to their factions capital to assemble their forces and made their way to Riverwood.

"I needed to handle that situation anyways, the loss of an entire hold to a bunch of traitors has no excuse. It's about time I dealt with this traitor. Auxiliary, take this letter to Jarl Balgruff, I expect his loyalty without question once I've dealt with his problem," he said, handing a scroll to a certain nearby nordic soldier, whom nodded and rode off to the town, having no intentions of heading towards that coward of a Jarl. Instead, he made for Windhelm, intent on joining the true sons of Skyrim. He had worn the mask of loyal imperial soldier long enough, and he had lost the trail of the man he had been pursuing, and decided that the Civil War was more important.

He had heard reports of an entire legion gone missing in the Pale a few months ago, and had sent scouts to search for any sign of them. Turns out, he didn't really need them, for reports of Riverwood being taken over by a large army, then the subsequent capture of the Falkreath hold, a sympathetic ally of the Legion, told him all he needed to know. An entire legion, traitors to the emperor and the empire. He couldn't believe it. He sometimes still couldn't believe it. How could that many men turn traitor after all the empire has done for them, and why would anyone turn against what the empire stands for. Peace, order, stability, that was what the empire was.

He also eventually found out who was behind this defection. A bright, promising legate that he thought was a loyal imperial through and through. He certainly seemed that way when he was fighting the Stormcloaks in the northern campaigns. He had grown fond of him throughout this civil war, he was no nonsense and brilliant in battle tactics and strategy and they shared many likes and dislikes, and it had amplified the already deep wound of betrayal when he found out. This wasn't going to be pretty.

Fortified Riverwood

"Sir, Mirmulnir and Krilkahjot have spotted two armies headed for our position," a legionary said.

"How many in each army?" Imperius said, writing down a note for the rest of the legion to make their way here at full haste if the news was dire. If the odds were against him, he would send a message to alert the rest of the legion, to ready them against whomever would break through the defenses at Riverwood. If the odds were even to both sides, he would alert the legion to a possible threat. If it was no threat whatsoever, he wouldn't even bother.

Granted, the defenses here are able to put up a fierce fight, and cost any besieging army most of their troops, he didn't want to take chances. Last time he took a chance was when he was ordered to besiege Windhelm and capture it and Ulfric if he could. He saw the numerical advantage he had over his opponent, and thought that the sheer skill and determination of his men would win him the victory without proper siege equipment, and he took a chance and charged in without much of a plan, only glory and prestige in mind. He lost five cohorts in the initial assault, even more so in the grueling house by house, street by street battle for the city itself and he vowed on that day forth to always be cautious, to never let his ambitions and ego get the better of him, no matter how easy a battle may seem.

"From their reports, the armies consisted of about three thousand men each, probably their personal forces sir."

"How long until they get here, do you know?"

"They said they'd be here in about five hours sir."

"Thank you soldier, report back to your post and be ready" he said, the legionary rushing back to his place on the walls. It was nothing, not even a blip on his radar of threats. His men would utterly slaughter either force or both if needed. Imperius walked along the wall, looking over the defensive measures they had taken, and watched Galba and Valian training their forces, working to create a fluid formation with both cavalry and infantry.

The centaurs ran circles around the cohorts of legionaries, practicing cavalry maneuvers to outrun and outclass their imperial counterparts, while the infantry practiced thrusting their swords into the guts of their enemies, blocking overhead strikes. They were also practicing a new regiment formation that Imperius implemented back when they were still under the command of the emperor of the Cyrodilic empire. The formation was a checkerboard like pattern, with five cohorts ten men deep, and five men wide, with five cohorts making up the front line, and four cohorts acting as reserve and flanking forces if need be. The reason for the checkerboard pattern was to make sure that if there were any breaks in the line, there would be extra men to help plug up the gap. It also leaves extra men free to wheel around the flanks of the formation, crashing into the rear of the enemy soldiers, the line folding like a blanket on the enemy formation until they were surrounded and cut off. This formation of infantry, compounded with the Hammer and Anvil strategy he had learned in officer training, made for a terrifyingly effective fighting force.

"A Imperial and Stormcloak army are after you? What did you do to piss both of them off?" a voice to his left asked.

He turned, and was greeted with the sight of the elf from before. She had been a good source of input in regards to his defensive works, providing insight wherever possible, though he had made sure to check with his lieutenants before implementing any advice that had been given to him.

"It was the annexation and conquest of Riverwood and Falkreath, both important locations for both factions. . Though why the Imperials and Stormcloaks haven't killed each other by now, I have no clue," he said.

A horn sounded from the sentries along the wall and he went to investigate, leaving the elf on the parapet, finding the groups of soldiers he assigned to ambush the army. He counted the amount of men left, and there were surprisingly low casualties, about three to four men were lost in each group of fifty.

"Sir, they are at the road leading up to here, the enemy is almost upon us," a centaur said, his back covered in plate armor riddled with arrows.

"Good job soldier, get to your unit and prepare for the assault," he said to the centaur.

The centaur nodded, gripped his lance, and galloped to his cavalry unit. Imperius began barking orders to his lieutenants, ordering them to get to their men and form into battle formations. Galba and Valian saluted, rushing to prepare for the fight at hand. Imperius called down Mirmulnir, climbed onto his neck, and together they flew into the skies. The enemy armies arrayed themselves outside the walls, the rows upon rows of spears, battle axes, war hammers, glaives, and gladii glinted in the summer sun. You could tell which side was which, for they separated into two groups, one imperial red, the banner of a dragon flapping in the wind, and the icy blue of the stormcloaks, they carried no banner for they neither had the tailors or the dyes to make them yet.

Imperius could tell this imperial army wasn't as disciplined or equipped as his personal legion was, if the mashing of tanned leather and messy links of mail were of any indication. The legates, or the second highest rank you could achieve in the legion, were dressed in the outdated plate armor worn since the height of the empire, which was about one thousand years ago. The general wore a unique set of armor that the ancestors of imperials wore before the development of plate, a chest piece that highlighted the musculature of the soldier wearing the armor. It had no shoulder plates, and was incredibly stiff and inflexible that most wore it for ceremonies only, rarely taking into battle.

The reason the borders of the imperial capital weren't steamrolled by the elves during the second war in the previous timeline were because of his tactics and armor innovation, ridding the military of old doctrine and equipment, completely changing the way the empire waged war that it shocked the thalmor, giving enough time for the recovering empire to regain its bearing and actually wage war instead of guerrilla resistance groups or ambush only tactics. Considering how many casualties the strategies of the old imperial way of fighting caused, he was not worried about them. His legionaries will crush the enemies of the Imperium with swift efficiency and ruthlessness.

He then saw four riders riding up to the town gates, bearing the white flag of peace. He landed, slid off Mirmulnir's back, saddled a warhorse and along with Valian and Galba, they rode out to meet the envoys, who turned out to be none other than Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak themselves

"Well, if my eyes don't deceive me, it is the notorious Ulfric Stormcloak! The bratty jarl who threw a hissy fit over losing to the elves. And the empire's most decorated general, Tullius himself," Imperius said.

Ulfric's face grew a tomato red, flames dancing in his eyes, promising a grisly end for him, while Tullius gave an almost disappointed look towards him, as a father would look upon a son who threw their life away for cheap fun. When he met the young lad at the castle, he thought of him as lesser than a civilian. But as the man performed his duty to the empire, securing the empire's place in Skyrim from the stormcloaks, he had come to like him. His ability for leadership was nigh unparalleled in the legions stationed in Skyrim.

"Son, you were one of my finest commanders. It is a pain to see you turn traitor to the empire you swore your loyalty to. You knew the punishment for traitors, yet you did it anyway. It is a tragedy to see you fall to treachery," he said, his eyes hardening, convincing himself that this was a traitor to the empire that needed to be put down, not one of his most decorated subordinates.

"Ha! Traitor to an empire that has fallen a long way since the Septim Dynasty. Your empire is an empire only in name, your emperor a puppet to the damned elves who want to kill us all. Your empire is weak, so wracked with feebleness that it is unable to stop provinces leaving the imperial fold, losing strength willingly to civil wars and outside threats. The Meade line has almost dried up, and he has no heir, so another civil war will take place, weakening the empire further. My empire will conquer Keizaal and will last for thousands of years, and it will not wither and die like yours is doing, slowly decaying due to stagnation and neglect," he said, not knowing that he was ranting.

"The emperor doesn't even give a damn about this province! All he wants is to be coddled by the palace whores and never wants to receive bad news, which leaves the imperial council with total control of the empire, and look where that has gotten you. They expect you to die each day, and once you do, they will write a sub-par condolence letter to your family in Cyrodil about how you were a brave soldier serving the empire, and the emperor will go back to being tended to by the many concubines he has in the palace!" he yelled losing his composure.

"Well Tullius, this traitor of yours seems to be biting at the leash to tear down all that you fight for. Tis fitting that a mad dog such as this becomes such a disgrace to your fetid Empire," Ulfric said, smirking at the perceived weakness he had found in his foe. Imperius smirked and chuckled

"Oh Ulfric, your tale is one of hypocrisy and unknowing puppetry, of ambition and callousness to your countrymen's lives. Your ambitions blinded you to the consequences of your actions. Murdering a High King and rebelling against the Empire has all but doomed your people to damnation, and you either don't realize this, or worse, don't care. You have no honor, using the power of the Voice to gain the upper hand against a foe that was woefully unprepared. You are a craven snake," Imperius said, watching the jarl's face twist with fury.

"I challenged him to single combat, it's one of our sacred traditions, honored and respected by all the jarls who didn't drink imperial milk, an outsider like you won't understand!" he shouted.

"You speak of honor, yet fled into the night like a coward after your so called "honorable single combat". If it were so respected amongst you nords, why flee? Face it, you craven mutt, you murdered an innocent to gain the power that you desperately crave to sate your wanton need for prestige and authority!" Imperius yelled back, enjoying how red and puffed up the nord was becoming.

Ulfric was easily riled up when insulted, it was evident when they met on the battlefield, making irrational decisions, letting his ego form his battle strategies, and shouting and screaming when he lost, which was quite often with Imperius's new tactics and equipment. When not ruled by emotion and ego, like Imperius was for a brief time in the previous timeline, the nord's tactics were very rigid and narrow in their flexibility and variation. Easy to predict, easy to counter and crush.

"Regardless of the circumstances of that fateful night, a very important decision will be made here today. Imperius, we are asking that you surrender, turn yourself in, return the village of Riverwood back to Jarl Balgruff, and disband your forces, or much blood will be spilt on this field. You will be granted a swift and honorable death despite being a traitor, for you have done much to preserve the Empire, and the Legion doesn't forget those who aid it in times of great need," he said with great effort, holding back sorrow and grief for the loss of one of his finest.

Ulfric scoffed in derision.

"General Tullius, you ask that I surrender, disband my armies, forsake all that I have accomplished and built up to this point. I am certain that you know the answer to your request," he said, his lips tight with melancholy as Tullius' face fell. "It doesn't have to be this way my friend. I beseech you to join my cause, reconsider your loyalties despite how strong they may be. We could create an Empire free of the cutthroat politics, fear of persecution, and disparity between citizens. All will live without fear of marauding armies, bands of murderous thieves and sellswords, and will not wonder whether they will go to be hungry or not. We could do that, together. Besides, we both know who the real threat to mankind is. We both understand what is at stake here. We see the bigger picture that no one else is willing, or able to, acknowledge, and we can defeat them, united under a single banner, and a single purpose," Imperius implored with passion, hoping to make one of the few imperials he respected see reason.

The silence was stifling, making Imperius's chest tighten and his breath slowed to a mere whisper with anticipation. Tullius was as loyal as they come, but he was one to see reason, the one who tried to make Ulfric surrender instead of wasting the lives of his countrymen, his offer being spat on by the rebels at Windhelm. He held a resentment towards the Thalmor. Not a fanatical resentment that drove Ulfric's actions, but a subtle hatred, the kind that led to coups and sinister plots. He knew that Tullius hated that the emperor seemed not to care for his plight, not even bothering to read his pleas for more men, hearing reports from his advisers that Tullius is getting the men he needs from local recruitment, and he was just being cowardly in wanting more men. He also knew of the man's distaste for the elves. He was not fond of them in the slightest. If not for the treaty, he would have likely told the high elves to bugger off. He would be more blunt and to the point, of course, but the message would still be the same.

"Let me think about this Imperius. In time, I will give you my answer," he said, turning his horse around and riding back to his forces, stopping at the front of the formation.

Ulfric spat in Imperius's direction, missing him completely, and rode his horse back to the Stormcloaks, psyching his soldiers for battle with an inspirational speech. Imperius rode back to his lines of men and nodded at them, the men nodding back, and making his way to Mirmulnir to take flight once again. Imperius made a flurry of motions with his hands, and flew to the far left side of the field. The legion began to move into formation, with the flanks being strengthened with the best troops, and the center being thinned and filled with the less reliable members of the Imperium's legion. The centaurs were ordered to act as if they were frightened of the enemy army and flee into the woods, looking as if they were fleeing the field of battle, a seemingly fortuitous event for the enemy. But in reality the force of centaurs would be waiting in the woods for the signal, and they would be unleashed upon those unfortunate to face them in battle.

"Come Stormcloaks, the hour is nigh for us nords to drive out these invaders and reclaim this land for our own. These imperial milk drinkers have overstayed their welcome long enough, time to kick them out!" Ulfric shouted, the speech being drowned out in a torrent of yells and screams from his soldiers.

They formed a line six men deep on the other end of the field, with the stormcloaks carrying a variety of weapons and armor, and began to work themselves into battle fury. The howling and screaming of the nordic men would haunt the dreams of the legionaries for months to come, chewing their shields, beating their shields, making an awful shrieking. A huge nord warrior standing around eight feet tall, garbed in mail armor, with the blue gambeson of the stormcloaks underneath the mail shirt, wielding a two handed war hammer made his way to the front of the formation. He screamed a bloodcurdling cry and rushed forward, foam streaming from his mouth, with the stormcloak army hot on his heels.

"Steady men! I know you are scared, every man that has faced battle is. If he isn't, then he is a fool. The trick is to control your fear, don't let it get the best of you. This is a crucial moment in our empire's brief history. Here, we will either rise victorious, or burn in defeat. Show the world that we will not wither and die like cowardly dogs, we will rise and conquer our enemies!" Galba shouted, the legionaries chanting the name 'Imperius'.

The legionaries hunkered down and dug in, determined to keep the line steady. The stormcloaks crashed upon the wall of shields like water on rock, beating their shields with a frenzy, screaming wild. The legionaires thought these men were crazy with their shouting, their frothing mouths and flamboyant fighting styles. Most men would have broken and fled under this assault, but not the legionaires. They held the line, holding back the wave of stormcloak blue from breaking through.

Ulfric lead from the rear, content on shouting encouraging words to his fellow countrymen as they rushed to do battle with the Imperium. The lines of battle swayed one way to another, as either side was putting every ounce of effort into breaking the other's formation with sheer brute force, with the legionnaires pushing forwards, and then a moment later the Stormcloaks driving them back with blood chilling howls and screams of effort. As the battle wore on, the center of Imperius' legion began to slowly fall back, the legionaires making the stormcloaks pay for every inch they won. The nords, spurred onwards by their advancement into the legionary formation, pressed onward, packing themselves like sardines, not knowing of the trap they were walking into.

Galba blocked the repeated strikes of a stormcloak warhammer, bashing the large nord in the face and slicing his throat. He looked up towards where Imperius was riding upon Mirmulnir, waiting for the signal to begin the trap. He remembered when Imperius had the legion practice this formation, it baffled him the first time he heard it. It was called an inverted crescent, where the center was intentionally weakened, while the flanks held strong. They would draw in the enemy who would think that the intentional retreat by the center was a sign of victory, and slowly close the noose around their necks until it was too late. He didn't understand why Imperius would intentionally weaken the center of the formation, it was where the fighting was strongest. Wouldn't the best soldiers be needed to keep the center stable instead of the weakest? He thought that this plan was utterly insane by regular standards, but he was willing to trust his imperator, and he would follow his commands.

"Equites et circumeunt parant reputetur!" Imperius shouted, the centaurs bursting from the woods, their plate armor shining in the sun, their lances lowered, pointing at the exposed backs of the stormcloaks.

"Legionarii consistunt, et ne dederis Unicae!" he shouted, the legionaries stopping their retreat and holding back the tide of stormcloaks.

"Equites, arguere!"

The centaurs galloped forth, thrusting their lances into the exposed rear of the stormcloaks, crushing dozens with their hooves alone.

They tried to turn and brace for the charge, but with them being so packed together, they could barely raise their sword arm, let alone defend against a cavalry charge. Ulfric shouted in rage at this defeat, and with his two trusted generals, rode off into the surrounding woods, headed back to stormcloak territory. Imperius looked for Tullius and his legion, but didn't find them at the battlefield. He figured that he had already left. Imperius returned his attention back to the slaughter, waiting to see what happened next.