Ashborn Stelaris : No... The story takes place around the time covered by "TES II Daggerfall", 250 years before the return of the dragons. The only dragon known at the time is the pet of a charming crazy old witch... wouldn't you like to be deprived of the comfort of her old age? So Cruel! The term "Dragoncrown" in the title refers to the crown worn by the Emperor... and thus to the Empire of Tamriel as a whole.
The current episode explains what is the point of divergence between the World of Fate/Dragoncrown and the normal history of the Elders Scrolls. In TES II: Daggerfall, the envoy of the Emperor (the Agent) solves the mystery of the death of King Lysandus one year after his assassination. While in Dragoncrown, his ghost continues to wander fifteen years after the murder.
The Amber-Eyed Blacksmith
The room was bright and fresh, lit by two windows on top of a wall of fine white masonry. The three-color tile floor offered a simple design in pastel tones. An incredible amount of objects piled up on shelves: metal pots, teapots, mugs, steel bars, and ingots. On the other side of the room was a complete forge with an anvil and numerous specialized tools.
In the middle, on a ragged carpet, a young man with red hair was kneeling before an elegant elven sword with a golden blade. Despite his youthful features and the friendly glow that shone in his goofy eyes, its physical appearance often made uncomfortable those who discovered the brilliant blacksmith and Magus whose fame extended to places around the Imperial City. He was neither Imperial, nor Redgarde, nor Breton. Some said that he came from Akavir... in any case, his presence was a mystery.
Anyone looking at him at that particular moment would have wondered what he was doing, staring at the sword in front of him. But the young man's look wasn't just anyone's... Structural Analysis. He was actually looking at an iron wire pattern of the sword while the entire structure of the object, from its chemical composition to its history, was imprinted on it. The weapon was called Ceymallari, it was composed of an alloy of 40% iron, 20% quicksilver, 40% moonstone. The original possessor, the warlock king Imrahil of Ceyatarn, a powerful Ayleid warlord, had the most marked Ceymallari.
The young redhead rose with his eyes closed and took an inspiration before reaching out. He then opened his magic circuits using as a trigger the memory of a certain night in a burning city...
Lines of green lights similar to printed circuit boards appeared on his arm, filtering through the beige tunic worn by the young Magus.
He then began to focus on the different phases of the improved variant of the Magecraft Projection which formed the only mystery he really mastered:
Judging concept of creation
Hypothesizing on structure
Duplicating material composition
Imitating the skill of making
Sympathizing with the experience of his growth
Reproducing the accumulated Years
Excelling every manufacturing process
He opened his eyes and hypnotized himself by focusing on his incantation:
- Trace, On !
The Projection, magecraft also called Gradation Air was known on Earth as a despised mystery that was generally used to produce an object needed for a ritual and that the Magus did not have. The duplicates made by this technique were only hollow, fragile envelopes that loosened within a few hours.
A useless magecraft.
If the young Magus had still lived on Earth, the process he called Tracing, an improved variant of the Projection he had developed himself-even, would have subjugated the Magi of the Clock Tower because it exceeded anything they thought possible.
In front of the young man's outstretched hand, electric arcs appeared, drawing a fuzzy shape, composed of a mist of prana particles. Slowly, Ceymallari emerged, became denser before becoming fully material.
The redhead grabs the blade out of breath... the first projection was always the most difficult. He made some moves, weighing the copy of the ancient sword. Suddenly, the blade moved in his hands in perfectly controlled moulds. The Magus began to dance with it. As a master of the ancient and acrobatic ayleid fencing, he jumped, pirouetted in the air, while Ceymallari transmitted its memory... of the years of clashes, duels and battles while it was handled by the king-wizard Imrahil.
A Magus has affinities, the first is element. It reflects what energy (air, water, fire, earth... more rarely anything else) was most compatible with it. The second affinity is the Origin, which constituted the root of its power...
The young man with the amber eyes had as element "sword" and as Origin... "sword". He was an Incarnation, a sword in the form of a man. Its proximity... no, its identity with the concept "sword", allowed it to create the mystery Tracing, a magecraft that allowed to create a copy of a blade almost perfectly identical to the original.
While the redhead smiled, satisfied to have added a weapon to his ever-growing arsenal, a roar worthy of a starving beast resounded throughout the house:
- I am hungryyyyyyyyyyy !
The young man shook his head and smiled in an embarrassed way. Once again, he had forgotten the time.
- Trace, Off !
The double of Ceymallari dissipated into bluish particles. However, the plans of the weapon were in him. Despite all his research into his strange power, the Magus did not understand how he stored his weapons. It was obvious that his memory could not retain the nuclear scheme of a sword, and the position of each atom in relation to its neighbors! So, hundreds of weapons... But in the last few months, he had found an element of response... he dreamed more and more of a desert where clouds of fire floated. In the infinite, the desert was planted with swords. He had recognized Caliburn, Excalibur but also the two twin swords used by Archer (Kanshou and Bakuya); as well as the stone sword-axe that Berserker had handled; Gae-Bolg the spear of Lancer; or weapons from Gilgamesh's Gate of Babylon such as Gram, Durandal, Houtenki and Dánsleif.
This explained why the materializations of his weapons became easier after the first time. He stored the plans "somewhere". Where? A parallel universe? Perhaps the world of his dreams...
He shook his head, reflection was not his strong point and he had a "monster" to feed.
Picking up Ceymallari (the original) before leaving the room, he smiled at the Dark Elf who was waiting for him at the door. She wore a simple black dress under a white apron and bowed respectfully:
- Good morning, Master Shiro.
- Good morning, Endroni.
The young Dunmer smiles with adoration at her young master (1):
- I am glad that you are finally leaving your workshop. Harassa is becoming untenable.
- Feeding tigers must be in my karma.
- Excuse me, young master?
- Nothing, Endroni, I understand myself.
Shiro Emiya, a human of Earth reincarnated on Nirn by the will of the Holy Grail, headed for the kitchen.
The meal ended and gathered the three members of the small household of Emiya Shiro. First, Endroni. She was a beautiful Dark Elf. Small and delicate, she had pointed ears and gray-black skin. Her hair was mahogany and her eyes had a red iris and sclerotic... almost indistinguishable from each other. She had been following Shiro since childhood, having first been her father's servant... Talus Sepronius, an officer of the Imperial Legion stationed at Fort Moonmoth, near Balmora. The young Japanese had reincarnated there, on the island of Vvardenfell, in the imperial province of Morrowind. He had grown up on this archipelago of lava in the shade of the Red Mountain, homeland of the Dunmers, these elves adapted to the storms of ash, to disgusting animals like kagoutis (a kind of crossing between a mini-triceratops and a baby T-rex) the dogs of Nyx (giant insects) and the roars of Cliffs Racer, some sort of winged lizards.
Then, his father and mother were recalled to the Imperial City by order of the Emperor Uriel Septim VII. Favoritism that took their lives soon after... the vagaries of a court plot. Shiro's parents had both been murdered by the Black Brotherhood. Nevertheless, the murderers had paid with their lives. Shiro, barely eight years old, had avenged them, armed with a pair of swords. The feat had reached the ears of the Emperor who had rewarded the orphan by giving him a house in the Imperial City and an income.
Shiro's father's last will had a somewhat... boring consequence.
Indeed, before being stationed in Vvardenfell, Talus Sepronius had first been stationed in Elsweyr where he had formed a strong friendship with a local potentate. The latter was the executor of Talus's will, which included ensuring the survival of Shiro until adulthood. Having taken his commitment seriously, he had sent his best warrior...
You've never heard of the Khajiits?
Of all the intelligent people of Tamriel, they are the strangest. They do not have a well-established form. The appearance of a Khajiit depends on the position of the two moons (Masser and Secunda) in the sky at the time of its birth. Within a few weeks, they develop in eight distinct forms.
Two of them (Alfiq and Senche) moved on four legs resembling respectively a big cat and a huge tiger, the others were humanoid. The Ohms and Ohmnes-raht were very close to the Wood Elves (the former having neither tail nor fur could easily be confused with the Bosmers). The Cathay, Dagi, Suthay and Suthay-raht were the "reference khajiits" because they were the most common. They had a humanoid body covered in fur, a feline head, a tail and claws, they differ mainly in their legs, some stand like men, others have tiger legs.
Do'Harassa was a Pahmar.
How do you describe the Pahmar? Imagine a man-eating tiger standing on his hind legs, wearing a steel breastplate, a scimitar on his belt and talking! Let us add that the Pahmar are the largest of the Khajits: two meters thirty for more than two hundred kilos of muscle!
Such was Do'Harassa.
When she walked next to Shiro in the streets of the Imperial City, passers-by made a detour. We understood them...
Still hungry, carnivorous, Harassa ate in a gullet the equivalent of an entire horse every day. Feeding her looked like Sisyphus's punishment in hell. Besides, she loved Shiro's cooking and used her oath to watch over him so she wouldn't miss a meal!
And to think that in his previous life, Shiro had found Taiga Fujimura invading.
Satiated - for the next three hours- Do'Harassa dropped back with a strangely humming throat sound. Shiro exchanged an amused glance with Endroni. It was necessary to take advantage of these good dispositions of the Khajiit for a painful discussion.
- Harassa?
Grunting of the "beast" half asleep...
- Harassa?
- What?
Shiro shook his head and looked up to the sky:
- You know what you have to do when I leave?
The Pahmar found herself on her feet in an instant:
- IT IS OUT OF THE QUESTION FOR YOU TO ESCAPE MY SUPERVISION!
As Endroni plugged her ears with a cry of pain, Shiro picked up the trinkets that had fallen to the ground.
- Harassa... it's not up to me. I received instructions from someone important. I have to leave... for a few weeks or months. You'll have to stay here and...
- Then I'm coming with you!
Shiro made a heroic effort not to show his annoyance... it wasn't as if the conversation was new. He had informed him of the situation two weeks earlier.
- You can't. I have to act alone.
- No one can compel you to...
He cut it off.
- I am not forced, I am a volunteer. However, I cannot be pensioned by the Empire and refuse to do any service. Besides, I can't sit idly by if someone needs help.
Endroni laughed, masking her mouth in a charming gesture:
- Master Shiro is always trying to help people. He is so kind. He never refuses to help merchants carry loads or clean their shops. He is known throughout the Imperial City for his dedication.
The immense khajiit looked away, fleeing the enthusiasm of the Dunmer. In a strange way, while the cat-men and the Dark Elves were figures of hereditary enemies (the latter reducing the former into slavery), Harassa literally adored the handmaiden. Although generally not very clever, the Pahmar had understood as well that she was in love with her master and often pointed out to the interested parties that Endroni had everything to make a good wife with a pretty body "with everything you need where you need it" and proven cooking skills. Incidentally, this allowed answering a great scientific question... Yes, Dark Elves can panic and blush with embarrassment.
However, this time, the support of the young Dunmer embarrassed her:
- Yes, but we cannot help everyone, it is impossible.
Shiro nodded:
- I know that. But that will not stop me from trying.
- You're going to leave!
Shiro smiles sadly as he see tears in the immense tiger eyes of his friend:
- For a while, anyway.
- But who will cook for me?!
The Magus sighed... one could count on Harassa's selfishness to spoil the great tearful farewell scenes.
The Imperial City had been built four thousand years earlier by the Ayleids, the high-elves of the interior, an elven race now extinct. Seen from the sky, a city looked like a huge wheel whose hub was formed by the Imperial Palace dominated by the White Gold Tower. Inner walls, which made like spokes, divided the city into several districts.
The Elven garden district was a residential area. The carefully stacked streets were lined with beautiful white stone buildings with large windows lined with small-paned windows embedded in lead. Lanterns attached to the buildings allowed the streets to be lit at night. Guards in imperial armor patrolled through the back and forth of city dwellers.
Shiro passed under a porch and stopped in an inner courtyard, looking for a possible follower. However, no one attached his footsteps to his own.
Under a tree was an access to the sewers. Thanks to a key, he stripped the hatch and slipped into the darkness. At the bottom of a metal ladder, he found himself in a vast vaulted room resembling a cathedral. In the centre was a manifold fed by several small channels. The light fell from a grid into the ceiling and took a strange green shade. The smell... let's say it's better not to describe the stirring in the throat. Descending a damp stone staircase, Shiro entered a darker tunnel before arriving at a tight open pipe between two stacked platforms. He crossed it by a bridge made of a few planks and came to rest.
His sharp senses warned him of danger.
In an instant, two Chinese falchions appeared in his hands. Kanshou and Bakuya, the twin blades represented the Yin and the Yang. Although their projection was only a C- Noble Phantasm, they had become Shiro's favorite blades. Perhaps in memory of the Archer of the Fifth Grail War who had sacrificed himself to save him or simply because Archer's fighting style suited him perfectly.
Goblins appeared from a side corridor. These green-skinned humanoids, as tall as twelve-year-old children, infested the city's basements, teeming in sewers and ancient forgotten tombs.
With a consummated ability, Shiro used his blades to counter attacks. He hated killing... but after living on Vvardenfell, he could not ignore that Nirn did not look like modern Japan. Killing or being killed was not a mere sight of the mind. Goblins had not been provoked. They had no particular hatred against him. They didn't even know him. Simply, in their primitive mind he was a lonely human and as they were many they forgot their customary cowardice thinking they had an easy booty.
Forcing itself to counter-attack, the Magus swivels on a hip imitating one of Archer's magnificent movements... in a rather crude but effective way. A first goblin collapsed, ripped open. Two others perished as he jumped, fell back behind them... leaving two blood splash in his path.
He then threw Kanshou with his left hand... missing a goblin. The survivors giggled and rushed, eager to take advantage of his mistake.
Except it was a feint...
Shiro had embraced Archer's dangerous fighting technique of leaving loopholes in his defense to channel attacks from his enemies. They allowed him to predict where they would strike... and thus trap them.
One goblin didn't understand what killed him. Kanshou and Bakuya were magnetized by each other and balanced like boomerangs. Gan Jiang's sword returned to the one representing his wife. The sharp blade cut the opponent who stood in its way. Swivelling on himself, Shiro recovered her with a fluid movement and killed two other humanoids in dazzling gestures. At this sight, the survivor lost all courage.
With a sigh, the young redhead dissipated his blades.
Following pictograms drawn in some rooms, Shiro arrived at a staircase that led him into a monumental ruin. A hypogeum with walls filled with columns sometimes broken. His sharp senses detected the presence of several scattered armed guards in the raised galleries. However, the light coming from a grid sealed in the vault did not allow him to see them clearly.
But there were two people near a wall. One of them was sitting in a big chair, and the other was standing behind.
As he approached a spell lit a torch. The light revealed the Magus as the most well-known High-Elf in the imperial city, Ocato of Firsthold High Chancellor of the Emperor and his war mage.
Sitting on the chair,marked features, hair reduced to a grey crown, stood Uriel Septim VII:
- My apologies for having called you to these sinister places, my friend, but I had to make sure that our meeting was far from prying eyes.
Shiro knelt down:
- Your Imperial Majesty, I am at your command. Order and I will obey
- Do you see, there is no need for this kind of nonsense, where only my friends can reach me. You wonder why all this secrecy? The Empire is facing great danger. Fifteen years ago, King Lysandus of Daggerfall died in mysterious circumstances. My agents never found out who murdered him and why... most of them died or were forced to flee. Lysandus was a loyal subject and vassal, more than that he was a faithful friend and a good man. I do not know why this noble sovereign has not found rest, but his ghost wanders at night at the head of an army of undead that ravages his former kingdom! We must close Oblivion's jaws and bring his soul back to peace.
Shiro nodded:
- Well, Your Majesty, I would do my best.
A murky expression appeared on the emperor's face.
- While you are in High-Rock, I would also like you to work on setting up a secondary mission, my friend. Shortly before Lysandus died, I sent a letter to his wife, Queen Mother Mynisera. A personal... mail that never reached its recipient. I'd like you to find it and destroy it.
- Yes, Your Majesty.
The Emperor nodded and waved at Ocato. The mage plunged the torch into a pool of sand. The light disappeared. In the returned darkness, however, Shiro heard the voice of the emperor address him one last time:
- Sleep well, my friend. Tomorrow a long journey awaits you.
(1) This is the effect of the real Noble Phantasm of Shiro... UBW? No, UHW... Unlimited Harem Work: Eroge Main Protagonist! Under the influence of this Noble Phantasm, half... not two thirds of female beings (for the most part pretty and sexy... as if by chance) appearing in his adventures fall in love with Shiro... who obviously does not notice!