4E, 202, 27th of Sun's Dawn
"Join the rest of the legion at the encampment. There your soldier's gear will be upgraded to the Imperium's standard, and your men drilled in the battle formations that we use. You are dismissed," Imperius said to a former imperial legate, commanding a small force of around two hundred imperial soldiers, who saluted and made his way to the encampment.
The Imperium has been receiving numerous offers from imperial legates to join the legions, and to join the Imperium, leaving the Empire at a loss for manpower and lower level commanders. Since the crushing victory at Whiterun, the Imperium has gained launching points for their invasion plans, leaving the Imperial garrison in Skyrim in a precarious situation. He has Galba, after promoting him to the rank of Legate, commanding the newly formed II Legion in the east, guarding their right flank from any surprise attack by the Stormcloaks, while Valian, being promoted to the same rank, is managing the home territory with small contingents of legionaires and heavy centaur cavalry equal of that to a legion, the III Legion, while also divided from the common legion tactical structure, clearing out any pockets of resistance, and snuffing out rebellions before they could catch flame.
So far, they numbered three legions in total, which compiled the total man power of the Imperium to about thirty thousand soldiers, all ready to serve the Imperium. Imperius himself led a legion, the I Legion, which was about ten thousand men and centaur cavalry, towards the silver mines of Markarth, where the silverblood family influence was strongest.
In the previous timeline, the Silverbloods were ruthless gangsters, roughing up and threatening people to pay a protection tax, to help keep the peace as they called it. His legion was tasked to root out the Silverbloods, the campaign taking three months of constant street warfare and hit and run attacks that had him seethe with anger at the losses incurred, as they were entrenched in the city to an almost unhealthy degree in the previous timeline. Imperius assumes that this will be the case this time as well. His men were camped in the open grasslands west of Whiterun. The famous trade city was already under reconstruction, replacing the nordic buildings of wood to that of Imperium marble and stone, the roads being repaved, the smithy being expanded along with the markets and farms. A small garrison of legionaires was placed within the city walls, to keep the peace and to help protect from bandits and any remaining Stormcloak sympathisers that may still be within Whiterun.
'The people will eventually benefit from this change in management. Granted the Greymanes are causing a ruckus but that is to be expected,' he thought, going over the supply lists.
The burgeoning Imperium, while capable, could not supply the current amount of men effectively. There were not nearly enough farms and stock animal pastures to supply the legions with enough food to sustain them. Imperius needed to act. He would not see his men starve while he still was capable of preventing it. But where to start after Markarth was the question. Valian's reports from Falkreath and the citadel had ensured in Imperius' mind the security of the southern entrance of Skyrim from Imperial surprise attacks, and Galba had secured the right flank and reported no findings of Stormcloak rebels after scouring the recruitment camps in the eastern fringes of the Whiterun hold, taking thirty captives turned legion soldiers after taking an offer of recruitment for amnesty from Galba. Maybe a push northwards towards Morthal and Dawnstar, tightening the noose around the Imperial garrison, strangling their supply lines until they were weak from famine, making surrender a near surety. Or maybe a push east, with Galba and the II Legion acting as the vanguard and spearhead, with the I Legion acting as the executioner's axe, mopping up any resistance that sprung up in the wake of the advance, with both legions converging upon the bastion of Stormcloak influence, Windhelm. It is difficult to decide.
Suddenly a courier burst into his tent, laid a scroll onto his desk, bowed, and ran out of the room. He pulled off the seal of the scroll, noting it was from the Cyrodilic Empire, unrolled the scroll, and began to read. A smirk grew on his face as he chuckled. Civil war is tearing the Cyrodilic Empire apart, and the legion stationed in Skyrim would be receiving no reinforcements or supplies. A pretender to the throne was causing a commotion in High Rock, and a legion and the reinforcements bound for the legion in Skyrim would be making their way there to quell the rebellion. The imperials in Skyrim were cut off. Perfect. He was pulled from his thoughts by a painful growl from his stomach.
'I have got to find a way to gather the necessary supplies my men need, the legions are running on empty. We won't be able to stand up to any threat like this!' he thought, grimacing in frustration.
"Have a runner send word to the centurions, we will be moving out in a few hours to Rorikstead to resupply," Imperius said, watching a runner sprint out of the tent.
He put on his segmented armor, looking grimly at his bandaged arm, grabbed his gladius and shield, and mounted his horse, making his way to the front of the column, giving the signal to march. Horns blew immediately, followed by the sound of marching feet, clopping hooves, and clanking armor, the cold temperature of Skyrim negating the heat of the midday sun. Imperius scanned the plains, noting the lackluster amount of deer and giant elk that used to roam the plains in great numbers. As they passed a nearby giant camp, he was shocked by the sight of mangled giant and mammoth corpses, a sickly green fluid oozing out of the various wounds.
He recalled Krilkahjot telling him about an undead dragon with the same green fluid pouring out of its various wounds, of how a demonic being resurrected the beast. Mirmulnir reported an alien creature from which the same colored fluid flowed from after he slew it. The details and the numerous reports of the same thing had him concerned to a degree that it took up much of his thoughts during any march. What did these signs mean? He couldn't be sure. He shook himself from his thoughts, and realized that they were nearing the town, taking note of numerous creatures that lay dead on the roadside, ranging from sheep, cows, to the mighty mammoth, all of them oozing out the green fluid from their mangled carcasses.
"Brag, you and another rider scout out the town, I don't like what I've seen so far," he said, the man nodding and riding off with a fellow rider towards the town.
The nord flew towards the settlement with his companion, scrunching up his face when a foul odor reached his nose, his companion heaving the contents of whatever meal they could scrounge up onto the cobblestone road. Along the way, they saw bloodied pieces of Whiterun guard armor, some containing the mangled, shredded corpse of the guard, others empty, save for some limbs. When they reached the town, Brag emptied his stomach as well. Rorikstead was in flames, the houses nearly burned to the ground, the tavern still ablaze. Bodies were strewn across the street, the wounds oozing the same green fluid as the animal corpses back towards the legion.
The livestock were nowhere to be seen, huge puddles of blood were in their place in the pens, some containing the limb of an animal, sometimes a human limb took the place of the animal. They slowly entered the remains of the village, their horses neighing and jumping in fright when a building near them collapsed. They stared in horror at a tree at the center of the village, which held the cold, lifeless corpses of most of the villagers, crows already picking at the bodies.
"May Akatosh have mercy on their souls," Brag said, his companion putting his hands together and bowing his head in prayer.
Brag too bowed his head in silent prayer, only to whip upwards in terror as he heard his friend choking on a blade lodged in his throat, blood gushing like a flooded river down his chest. His companion fell off of his horse, the animal fleeing in pure terror, and he turned to the being responsible. It glowed a sickly green, the bulging veins pulsing with green light, a crazed grin on its face, green liquid dripping from its slack jaw, which held elongated fangs. It looked vaguely humanoid, with the same physique of a nord, with the muscles of a orismir, and the height of a half giant, bearing two long swords in each hand. The being screeched a blood curdling cry, and sprinted towards Brag, who snapped out of his trance, and urged his horse to gallop out of the town, heading back to the legion.
He breathed a sigh of relief, which turned into a scream of horror as he turned around to be greeted by the sight of the being slowly gaining on him, green spittle flying from its gaping jaws. It stared at him, with a wild, crazed look, bloodshot eyes without pupils. A maniacal laugh sent chills down his spine as the being finally caught up to him, and tripped up his horse, sending him flying forward, breaking his neck on the cold, muddy ground. The demon cackled at his handiwork, yet his face quickly turned into a frown as he heard the approaching army, and fled into the undergrowth, watching from a nearby bush.
Imperius saw more bodies, some animal, some human, others too mangled to discern. He stops when he sees the body of the scout Brag, the one he sent out a few minutes ago. His horse lay crippled beside him, its legs twisted at unnatural angles. The horse was put out of its misery, and the legion marched forward, growing more and more wary as they went. Imperius halted the army, stunned by the carnage wrought at the village.
Houses now smoldering ruins, corpses lined the main road, some killed by vicious stab wounds, others were unidentifiable with how mangled the corpse was. His horror grew when he saw the tree in the center of the village, bodies stuck onto its various branches. The sight nearly made him balk. He spotted the other scout he sent, with a gaping hole in his neck. He shook his head, and turned his horse around to address the centurions, who were in shock at the sight before them.
"Centurions, have the legion go around the village. I don't want the men to lose the contents of their stomach. I will scout out the village, to see if there are any survivors," he said, the centurions nodding and barking commands.
As he moved through the devastated ruins of the town, he had the feeling that something was watching him from the husks of the houses and buildings of the once vibrant farming village, now a ruined wasteland of death and decay, the stench of the green, fetid liquid oozing from the bodies of the dead made him visibly ill by the smell alone. He stopped near what was once the tavern of the town, warily keeping his surroundings in his vision. This was not the work of Ulfric, as much as he would like to believe it, the nordic jarl of Windhelm at the very least cared for his fellow nords, if only to further his own gains, so he wouldn't massacre these people, even if they defied him. The thought of Tullius doing this made him snort in disbelief. The man was too efficient, too logical for a massacre such as this to be his work. There wouldn't be as many slaughtered bodies, nor would the soldiers brutalize the citizens in such a manner, not to mention that it would be against his interests to slaughter a town full of innocents. This thought process only left more questions.
"Now, what could have caused this much destruction?"
"That would be yours truly."
Imperius whirled around, drawing his gladius towards the voice. He kept his shield up, wary of the humanoid before him. He wasn't sure if it even could be called humanoid, its physiology and stature so alien that he innately knew that it was not of this world. It stood about seven feet tall, had no hair save for some chest hair, its eyes a bloodshot white, no pupils to speak of. The creature had no ears, only two holes in the side of its head in which Imperius inferred that were its ears. No visible nose either, two slits on its face he inferred served as its nose. It snarled, holding up two swords in each hand, large, menacing ink black talons extended from its fingertips. The two combatants circled each other, waiting for either one of them to make the first move.
"Who and what are you, and why have you slaughtered this village?! These people have done you no wrong!" he shouted, outraged at the near aloof manner in which the creature admitted to the deed.
"I'm fully aware that they have not wronged me in any way, but my master bid me to commit this act, and as a good servant, I shall follow his instructions to the letter," the being crooned, its voice sickeningly smooth, a wide grin growing on its face, showing off two rows of elongated fangs, with serrated edges glinting in the sun.
"Who is your master?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. If you want the information badly enough, you will beat me in combat," the demon said, raising its twin swords in a silent challenge.
Imperius answered, charging the demon, slamming his shield against the foul being, pushing it off balance. The demon quickly did a few leaps backwards to gain some distance between each other, and charged, throwing one of its blades, which lodged itself in Imperius's shield. Imperius threw the shield down, cursing that he had to get rid of it so soon, and blocked a powerful strike, the harsh clang of steel hitting steel rang out, Imperius being pushed back by the demon's sheer strength, that of a small giant. He dodged multiple strikes, some barely nicking his armor, leaving small grooves in the well crafted steel, and swept the demon off of its feet, stabbing his sword into the dirt where the demon was after it had rolled out of the way.
He grunted in frustration, pulled the blade out of the ground and rushed the demon, striking ferociously at the horrid thing with his gladius, getting a few deep, well placed cuts on its chest. It growled and went on the offensive, surprising and pushing Imperius towards the smoking remains of the tavern, putting the dragonborn on the defense. Imperius struck out with his leg and kicked the demon onto the ground, the demon rolling to the side at the last second as Imperius stabbed his sword once more into the ground. Imperius looked up to see the demon charging him, seeing the blow coming, and he was a second too late to dodge it. The demon kicked Imperius's chest, sending him flying away from his gladius into a burnt wood column, cackling as he heard the tell tale crunch of broken bones.
"My my, I thought the legendary dragonborn would be a challenge to me, from all of the talk from my brethren I figured you were a warrior of great stature and mettle. One worthy of testing my skill against. Alas, all the talk was for nothing," the demon said, shrugging its shoulder as he made his way over to Imperius, a smirk twisting its unnatural facial features
Imperius struggled to get up, but the demon's kick had knocked the wind out of him. He winced, holding his ribcage, feeling that a few ribs were broken. He finally stood up after much struggle and pulled out a long dagger, with one hand over his ribs and the other pointing his weapon at the demon, who stopped to laugh at how pitiful he looked. Imperius grunted in pain as he fell to his knees, the pain intensifying to extreme levels. He couldn't think. Pain clouded his thoughts like a thick fog. All he could do was act on muscle memory and instinct.
"If you are the best this world has to offer, then my master worries for naught. The invasion will proceed as planned, and our conquest of this world will come easily, our humiliation avenged with mass slaughter," the demon said passionately with a vicious grin.
"What nonsense do you speak? What invasion? What humiliation?" Imperius asked, wincing as the pain began to intensify, noticing riders from the legion spot them and bringing up a couple of archers, pointing at the demon.
"We are nothing new to this world. We have been here before. Before the Empire, before the elves, before even the Guardians' creation. We were beaten back, humiliated by you pathetic creatures. We would have swept over this world with ease, but the combined armies of all the mortals, with the aid of the Titans in the form of the Guardians, scattered us like grains of sand in the wind. Now that the Titans are nowhere to be found, and all the Guardians gone, we can finish what we started. This world will burn in fire, and my master will laugh as you are struck down like the livestock you are," the demon said, his cackles cut short when he was struck by a flurry of arrows, falling face down into the blood drenched earth. A few moments later the corpse burned up in a hellish green fire, ashes being all that was left of it.
Imperius's vision began to fade though in vain he tried to retain consciousness. The last things he saw were his lieutenants gathering around him, hoisting him onto a stretcher, then it faded to black.