Chapter 18
As the intruder had their hands tied and was placed in front of the table Imperius was working on, he turned to look at the elf in the far corner. She had become somewhat of a recurring thing. Whenever he was around, she was always nearby. The legionnaires had even taken to giving her names based on this, but kept them to themselves in fear of being the object of her retribution if she were to ever find out. He had taken note of some habits he had happened to notice throughout her time being around him.
She was always analyzing people, staring at them with an intensity to rival that of a dragon. He figured that she was trying to work out how people worked, what made them tick and whatnot. At least, that's the only logical thing he could interpret from her staring. If that weren't the case, he would think her extremely abnormal. But who was he to judge people on abnormalities when he was supposed to be dead, not to mention being the Dragonborn. He sometimes caught her staring at him from time to time. Unlike a normal person who, when caught staring, would ashamedly look away, or walk away in a brisk manner, she would continue to stare, as if unraveling a puzzle or breaking down a device to its baser parts, only to put it back together to see how it works. He felt like he was being examined, like an experiment, being prodded by her gaze. He was unnerved by it, he wouldn't lie, and confided to Mirmulnir about this, the dragon agreeing on the description of 'creepy' that Imperius gave it.
Despite the elf's...unusual habits, she also possessed useful qualities that he liked. Enhanced hearing was one of them. Usually, he wouldn't notice people walking towards his tent until his tent flap opened, leaving him to scramble to look presentable if he was working on something or reading. With her in the tent with him, he got a heads up due to her hearing the approaching soldiers, centurions, or messengers before they came into the tent, leaving him with just enough time to mentally prepare himself for whatever came through the tent entrance.
She was also fun to banter with every now and then, their arguments covering a wide range of topics. A few days ago, they were arguing over whether elven smithing or human smithing was better and, with Imperius being a master of both types of smithing due to years of practice in his previous life, had a competition to see which was better, with Imperius trouncing the elf thoroughly. She claimed that the competition was rigged against her from the start. She was right, but he would never openly admit it to her face though, which only seemed to fan the flames of her ire.
"I thank you for giving me a heads up just then. Still mad about losing?" he asked in a playful tone.
"The contest was stacked against me and you know it Imperius! I would have won if it wasn't," she argued with a glowering gaze directed his way.
"Yes, of course you would have. Now, who do we have here?" Imperius asked, turning back to their prisoner.
The elf was about to retort that of course she would have won, but decided against it and turned her gaze to the intruder. After studying her for a few minutes, she turned to Imperius.
"Breton, about twenty years of age, was a member of a fighting guild or mercenary group, and is suffering from an infected wound at the moment. Might want to look at that," she stated.
"You sure?" Imperius questioned, impressed at her accurate intuition.
"I am the best at what I do, Imperius. I am absolutely sure. You can bet your septims on it," the elf boasted.
"I'll hold you to it. Have her sent to the stockades. We will question her later. Make sure that her wound is looked after. For now, arrange a meeting with all the centurions," he ordered.
The elf nodded, albeit in a strained manner, and made to find Tribali, as no centurion would follow her orders. Soon all of the centurions were gathered in the command tent, standing at attention and saluting when Imperius entered, the elf at the back of the tent not bothering to salute. He nodded their way and placed his hands on the large table in the center of the tent, a good portion of it was covered by a map of Skyrim, with outlines on which faction controlled what, and where the forces of the Imperium, and the suspected enemy forces, being represented by small colored flags. The Imperium's flags were white, the Empire was red, and the Stormcloaks were blue. The areas of interest are the territories above Whiterun.
"Any information on any enemy forces in the area?" Imperius asked.
"Our scouts have spotted a moderately sized force of imperials moving through Hjalmarch towards White Shore. We have reports that they are looking for a crown of some sort," a centurion reported.
"The Jagged Crown. An artifact that will lend legitimacy to the cause in possession of it in the eyes of Skyrim. When was this report?"
"Two days ago Imperator. About four hundred men and horses, lead by Legate Maurentius Attaliates."
"Imperator, we have an urgent report from Legate Galba in the East. A small force of Stormcloaks have crossed the White River and are currently crossing the mountains. We suspect they are headed to White Shore as well. One hundred men, no cavalry to speak of."
"I assume this report is recent as well?" Imperius asked.
"Yes Imperator," a centurion responded.
So both factions are after the crown now. With their legitimacy shaken, the Imperials and Stormcloaks are now grasping for anything to make their cause seem valid and true. While the Jagged Crown would help their cause, there was only so much it could do. The Stormcloaks will have to perform multiple miracles to have their reputation repaired to an extent that they could be comfortable with. If the crown were to fall into Imperial hands however, it would strengthen their cause's legitimacy to levels beyond their own.
"I will take two thousand men and five hundred cavalry with me towards White Shore to cut off the Imperials and Stormcloaks, securing the crown and decimating both forces if possible. The rest of the Legion will fall back towards Whiterun and fall under the command of Legate Valian. He will guard our left flank from Imperial counterattack while we move towards our new objective. He is to rebuild the strength of the legion as he does this. Send word of this to Legate Galba, so that he is informed of our current status," Imperius ordered.
Messengers raced out of the tent, quickly mounting horses as they sped to deliver the orders. Imperius went and gathered the men. All two thousand and five hundred of them. He called Mirmulnir and soon the dragon landed in front of the camp, noting the Legion's strength has lessened since he last saw them. Imperius promised to explain in due time and mounted the dragon, with the elf being given a horse to ride on, and led his men towards the location of the crown. It took the entirety of the day to reach the crown's location, Imperius had difficulty finding a spot that could sustain two thousand men and then some. He sighed. At least they had gotten there before either Imperials or Stormcloaks. That gave Imperius an idea. He confided the plan with his centurions and Mirmulnir and they agreed to the plan and moved to their positions. As the legionaires moved into the nordic ruin, the cavalry and Mirmulnir moved deep within the snow covered forest, hiding themselves within the trees. Imperius and the elf followed his men into the ruin and found a space to sit down near the entrance of the ruin.
"So I take it that we're ambushing the Imperials?" the elf asked.
"Or Stormcloaks. Either one or both at the same time. It doesn't matter, it will end the same way," Imperius said confidently.
The elf hummed in understanding and returned to staring at the walls of the nordic ruin, her fingers tapping against her armor plates in boredom.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked aloud.
"Doing what?" he asks.
"This," she questioned, gesturing with her arms, "Fighting against the Empire, fighting against the Stormcloaks. What is it that drives you to betray those whom you had sworn loyalty to? What is it that you hope to accomplish with this rebellion? "
"I fight for a future where everyone is at peace. A continent united under a single banner that protects its people, provides for them, and destroys anyone or anything that threatens to undermine it. The Empire can no longer do so even though it tries in vain, its leaders corrupt and power hungry to an intolerable extent. The Empire is so weak it cannot stop its own provinces from leaving the fold. I saw how weak the Empire had become during my military career and I couldn't take it anymore. I had to do something. I have the knowledge, power, resources and soldiers to make a better, more powerful Empire," he says. "The Stormcloaks are a misguided band of rebels led by a powerhungry former soldier who started a rebellion against the Empire, possibly damning his people to slavery and execution, for the dream of a Skyrim free of the Empire, and by extension, the Thalmor. There can't be my empire and the Stormcloaks at the same time, so I plan to eliminate them. However, I will not enact retribution against them for standing against me. Ulfric and the higher echelons of their command structure alone will receive judgement." he finishes with a gruff, annoyed tone in his voice.
"What deed has Ulfric done to cause such harsh measures, and why only the officers? Has he wronged you in some fashion?" she asks with curiosity. He speaks calmly when regarding the destruction and replacement of the Empire, but on the topic of Ulfric, he becomes so angry she at times thought she was going to die. It has intrigued her for some time but she was too scared to ask until now.
"Ulfric Stormcloak leads a superfluous rebellion with a faulty goal in mind, caused massive amounts of senseless violence and death, moreso towards his own people than those he fights, and is incompetent as a strategist and at governance. His existence is a blight upon this continent and I intent to fully wipe him from the face of the world with extreme prejudice, nothing else will satisfy the anger I hold towards him," Imperius practically growled, gripping the handle of his gladius with such force that his knuckles turned white.
Before the conversation could continue they heard the sounds of fighting outside the ruin's entrance, the legionaires moving to their positions, with Imperius and the elf doing the same, waiting for whoever won to march through the doors. Soon the sounds of combat faded away and were replaced by the sounds of footsteps headed towards the large oaken doors of the ruin's entrance. Imperius tensed in preparation of the coming combat, slowly drawing his gladius and gripping the handle of his shield in anticipation. The elf had drawn her sword, though with less anticipation and more out of muscle memory.
The doors opened, revealing a bloody but determined group of Imperials led by the legate Maurentius Attaliates, ornate headcrest adorning his helmet. He made his way further into the ruin, with about fifty imperial soldiers following in his wake, their swords and armor stained with blood.
"The Stormcloaks are gone. They'll be easy targets after your conquest of Markarth and the rest of Imperial territory," the elf whispered. Imperius grunted in agreement and signalled to his legionnaires to get ready.
"Keep your eyes up, those rebels may have hidden some of their ilk within this ruin to ambush us. Tullius needs this crown now more than ever, and we will deliver it to him with all haste," the legate ordered.
Imperius gave the signal to attack and rushed forward into the group of Imperials. As he entered the fray, he ducked under the swing of an Imperial and quickly severed the arm from the soldier, silencing his cries of agony with a swift horizontal swing with his sword, lobbing off the head of the Imperial. He blocked a blow from behind by an Imperial officer and, pivoting off of his left foot, tore through the officer's armor as if it were paper with a slash to the imperial's chest, blood gushing from the wound onto the stone floor. Several more Imperial soldiers attacked Imperius, one by one they were slain until there were none willing to challenge him. Imperius rushed back into the battle, cutting down any Imperial soldier that faced him. Legionaires rushed after their commander, charging the Imperials with great ferocity, completely surprising them, allowing the Legionaires to kill a large number before the Imperials could properly respond. It took only a minute for the Legionaires to make short work of the Imperial soldiers, the last Imperials standing being the Legate himself, Maurentius Attaliates, and a few other Imperial soldiers standing around their legate.
"You won't win, traitor. The Emperor will have your head for this," the legate seethed.
"I would love for him to come try and take it himself, but we both know that won't happen. Now you have a choice to make. You can take your men and make your way back to Solitude with a message for Tullius from me, or you can condemn yourself and your men to a meaningless death. Your choice," Imperius offered.
"I am not stupid Imperius. You of all people should know that. I will take my men back with me to Solitude and deliver your message to General Tullius."
Imperius nodded and gave the message to the legate, whom nodded as well, leading his men out of the ruin and back towards Solitude on horseback. Imperius ordered his men to get into marching formation outside of the ruin and to await his orders and, along with the elf, made his way deeper into the ruin. As they delved deeper into the tomb, the elf engaged him in idle conversation, which he obliged. They had a small conversation as they encountered draugr of all types, chuckling at each other's quips and harmless barbs, all the while cutting down numerous draugr. They finally reached the room containing the crown, its resting place atop a draugr's brow as it sat upon a throne, an ebony greatsword clutched in its grip. It awoke as they got closer and made to swing at them, but was cut down by Imperius before it could make contact.
"That's the crown? I'd have thought that the nords would invest in some...better fashion for their royalty," the elf said with mild disgust as she looked upon the crown.
As Imperius picked up the mixture of bone and metal that was the Jagged Crown, the elf couldn't help but display her revulsion, mildly gagging when Imperius removed his helmet and put the crown on.
"Get that thing off of your head! Who knows what kind of diseases you could get from it. It was literally sitting on a rotting corpse when you got it!" the elf exclaimed.
"Didn't know you cared about me so much," Imperius said offhandedly as he removed the crown and donned his helmet.
The elf stopped, the words she was about to utter dying on her tongue as she processed what he said, a light blush appearing on her cheeks. She clenched her fist, huffing in annoyance before walking a short distance away, finding a random draugr corpse and releasing her frustration and embarrassment in the form of utterly desecrating the draugr corpse.
"You done over there? We are headed back to Whiterun in a few moments," Imperius said to the elf.
The elf affirmed that she was ready to go and followed Imperius out of the tomb and with the men in tow, back towards Whiterun to begin the next phase of their plans.
Solitude
Tullius leaned against a map covered table and sighed in frustration. His forces were stretched thin enough trying to counter the Stormcloak insurgency, and now with Imperius rebelling with a legion's worth of soldiers, capturing Falkreath and Whiterun within a few months of each other, he simply didn't have the strength to counter the wayward rebel commander. At least he didn't have to garrison both holds anymore, the men being used to great effect garrisoning the northern forts in Dawnstar, though he suspects that soon enough the northern territories will be lost to Imperius and his legion.
"General, a message for you! It's Legate Maurentius Attaliates!" a guard shouted.
Tullius looked up from the map and saw the legate standing at the door on shaky legs, armor ragged and bloody, a dented helmet in his left hand. From this sight alone, he knew that his forces had failed in getting the crown, it was now just a matter of determining how bad the damage will be. If the Stormcloaks had it, it spelled the end of the Imperials in Skyrim. The nords were a traditional folk, he has been reminded of this on many occasions by Legate Rikke and Ulfric from the few times that they met on the battlefield. It would only ensure that Ulfric's rebellion would be a never ending conflict, spelling doom for the already weakened Empire. If Imperius and his band of rebels have acquired it, then it wasn't as bad. Sure it lent legitimacy to their cause, but at least it wasn't the Stormcloaks.
"I bring word, General. Imperius and his men have taken the crown, ambushed us after we slaughtered the Stormcloaks. We didn't stand a chance. He asked me to bring you a message," the legate said.
"What is the message?"
"Next we meet, I require your answer."