The two moons, Masser and Secunda were high and bright in the sky when Lucia and the Fangs set out across the moors of the Rift. Lucia glowered angrily up at the moons, hoping that the remnants of Shor's body could feel her displeasure. She had been hoping for a dark and overcast night, that she and the others would be hidden from view. But no, the sky was bright with stars, almost as bright as day. She and the others had been resting in the Miner's Mug, the small village tavern that had been set up in Sylgja's old house, and Lucia had cursed the gods when she had looked out the window to see the night's sky.

'Perhaps we should wait?' Lars had suggested, hesitantly. Both Lucia and Braith had shaken their heads.

'We can't just wait around and hope the gods will smile on us,' Lucia said, 'we'll just have to go and make the best of it.' She had noticed Llirvalie smiling slightly at that. Lucia supposed she was happy they were trying hard to make her home safe again.

All the people of Shor's Stone seemed happy that the Fangs had come to help. No sooner had Lucia walked into the tavern with Llirvalie at her side, the villagers were smiling, welcoming and wanting to see to their every wish. Ale, food, the horses stabled, all was seen to. Durwin, the barkeep, had virtually bent over backwards in his desire to see to their needs. Their welcome had only gotten warmer when they had revealed they intended to take the fort that very night. Odfel and Grogmar gro-Burzag, a pair of old miners, even offered to join them. Lucia tried to politely, but firmly, refuse and, though that was enough to turn Odfel away, it was not enough for Grogmar.

'I have been away from the stronghold for many years,' the old orc had said, 'but I still follow the code of Malacath and I would die with honour.'

No amount of persuasion by any of the Fangs, even Samuel, could turn him away. Well so be it, Lucia thought in the end, if the old fool wants to die, who am I to turn him away.

The bigger surprise had been Llirvalie. Lucia had assumed that, upon reaching Shor's Stone, the dark elf would have chosen to remain behind. But she had also insisted on joining them.

'I need to show you where the cave is,' she had said when Lucia had protested, telling her she would be safer if she stayed behind, 'it's hidden. You won't find it easily.'

Though Lucia doubted they'd miss a hole in the rock nearby to Fort Greenwall, she relented.

And so it was that Lucia, snarling at the sky, led the Fangs out of Shor's Stone, accompanied by Llirvalie and Grogmar. They moved as quickly and quietly as shadows across the grass and ferns, always aware of the dark outline of Fort Greenwall that seemed immense and foreboding under the starlight.

Keeping low to the ground, Lucia led them around a hill, thinking to keep it between them and the fort. She was dreading the sound of a shout, a horn call, something that would be as a death song for them, a signal that the Kingsworn had seen them. But there was nothing. She heard nothing from the fort. So far, so good.

Once the Fangs were in position, she sent Haming and Alesan ahead with Llirvalie, to scout the area and find this cave. The rest of them waited, as wolves waited for the prey to reveal itself. None of them talked, all of them were waiting and listening. With the exception of Joric who was staring dreamily up at the sky.

Lucia noticed that there was only one who seemed more on edge than she herself was. Samuel was drumming his fingers on the sleeve of his studded jerkin and kept glancing in the direction the three scouts had disappeared in. Lucia's eyebrow raised thoughtfully. Samuel and Alesan had got quite close in the days since they had left Windhelm, staying up talking late into the night as they had travelled south. And she had seen that look before. It was the same look Lars and Braith got on their faces when the other was sent off without them. So that was the way the wind blew, was it? From the significant look she shared with Runa, she had not been the only one to notice.

The minutes dragged by. Lucia was not sure how long they waited exactly. None of the Fangs spoke a word. A few cast nervous glances over at the dark silhouette of Fort Greenwall but that was all. Some others fingered weapon hilts or drummed fingers on shield rims. Lucia could hardly blame them. Her own thumb was running softly along the edge of her axe.

Finally, the scouts reappeared. Samuel was the only one faster to his feet than Lucia. Alesan greeted him warmly while Haming gave the report.

'We found the cave,' he said, nodding back in the direction they had come, 'there's a good stretch of shrubs between here and there. If we go in small groups and keep low, no one should see us.'

Lucia nodded. It sounded like a good plan. So it was in twos and threes that the Fangs finally arrived at the mouth of the cave that would, according to Llirvalie, lead them right into the heart of the fort. Lucia turned to look at her little warband, all of whom now looked eager. There had been very little fighting when they had taken Mistveil Keep. Hroar, Runa and Britte were positively champing at the bit for some real action.

'They might have sentries in the cave,' Lucia began, trying to sound confident, 'there might not be many but they'd be complete fools not to have a few watchmen out, especially in the fort. We've got to move fast. Whoever's leading these bastards is likely in the main bed chamber. We get them, we can make the others surrender. If you can knock out any you pass, great, otherwise kill them and move on.' Her voice became shaky at that last part. In truth, Lucia had never killed before. The prospect of doing it tonight scared her. But she had to be brave. Uhther would not baulk at the idea. She had to be as brave as her father if she was to be worthy of the name her band had given her.

'For the Young Dragon,' Joric whispered, smiling and hefting his greatsword. The line was echoed by many of the Fangs. Lucia turned to the cave so they would not see her blushing and pulled out her waraxe.

'I'll go first,' she said, 'with Braith and Llirvalie. The rest of you follow in packs of four. Leave a couple of seconds between each. There'll probably be a trapdoor or something up to the fort, we'll gather there.'

'Where is the elf?' Lars asked, looking around. Lucia mimicked him. Llirvalie was nowhere to be seen.

'Did she go back to the village?' Runa asked.

'I didn't see her,' said Haming.

'Me neither,' said Grogmar. The old orc looked very different now, clad in furs and carrying a nasty looking battleaxe. He had been taking up the rear most of the way but was now as eager as the Fangs to get to the business at hand.

'She wouldn't have done,' Lucia said, 'she wanted to come with us so badly, why would she go back now?'

'Second thoughts?' Runa suggested, though she looked sceptical.

Almost as one, the group turned to look into the cave.

'She wouldn't...'Braith said.

'She might've,' Blaise said, drawing his sword.

'That stupid elf!' Britte exclaimed.

'With me!' Lucia said and, together, the Fangs ran into the cave.

Lucia had been right. The Kingsworn had not been foolish enough to leave the cave under the fort unprotected. There were only a handful, certainly nothing that the Fangs would not have been able to deal with. Though they did not have to. The first sentry they came to was slumped on the ground, his sword held loosely in limp fingers, his throat opened, almost from ear to ear. The Fangs had been moving quickly through the cave but the sight of the dead man made them falter.

Braith looked at Lucia. 'The elf?' was all she said.

Lucia could not believe that that shy, demure woman could have done this. But on the other hand, who else could it have been?

'Let's keep moving,' she barked.

They passed four more bodies before they reached the ladder. All had their necks opened, just as the first had, and all wore the same expression of surprise on their faces.

Alesan went up the ladder first, followed by Samuel, then Braith, then Lars. Lucia went up next. There was no one waiting at the top of the ladder, though that changed when Lucia pushed open the door onto a scene of total chaos.

Men and women were running around the fort's courtyard, shouting at each other, their voices merging together into one incomprehensible din. More were up on the walls, bows in hand and also shouting to each other.

Lucia was so shocked by the amount of people that she completely forgot about remaining unseen. She realised this a moment too late.

'There!' one of the Kingsworn shouted, 'There! The intruders!'

A group of men heard the shout and turned to look at Lucia. Then they were charging, swords and axes raised. Lucia acted without thinking. There wasn't time to think. Her Nordic axe was swinging through the air and, when Lucia blinked, its blade was embedded in a man's neck, him gurgling around the blood that was now filling his mouth. He dropped, pulling the axe out of Lucia's hand.

She stared down at the body. The man's eyes were open, his eyes were green, filmed, staring but not seeing. His mouth was open too, blood trickling down his cheek. His axe held loosely in his hands. He had been alive and now he was dead. In all her father's stories, he'd never said how empty a body looked.

Because there's no time to look at the dead during battle, a small voice that sounded a lot like Uhther said in the back of her mind. You can't dwell on that when any moment might be your last. The dead are dead, that is all. They have gone to the gods. Move on, mourn them later if you must.

Lucia shook herself out of her stupor. No more than a few second had passed but even that was too long to be standing around when you were surrounded by enemies. More of the Fangs had emerged into the courtyard from behind her. The young legionnaires came together, their imperial shields forming a small wall. Runa and Alesan joined their shields and, together, they marched forward. Kingsworn smashed into them like waves against a rock. The other Fangs formed around the wall. Haming was loosing arrow after arrow from behind the shields while Hroar, Braith and Joric countered any attempts by the Kingsworn to flank them. Not that there were many.

Grogmar, howling with battle laughter, had charged into the former Stormcloaks, taking two off their feet before even using the axe. Britte, wielding a mace and a waraxe, was following in the wake of the old orc, swinging both weapons viciously at those Grogmar hadn't taken care of. Lucia joined the wall and, together, the Fangs made their way to the fort's main keep. They had practiced this over and over before they'd gone to Riften, in case they'd had to fight through the guard. Lucia was strangely happy that all that training hadn't been a waste of time.

The Kingsworn were in disarray. They'd been roused from their beds, none of them knowing what was going on. There were more of them but there was no organisation to them. They were a rabble. Though far from easy, the Fangs were able to beat and cut their way through them. Another Kingsworn charged their line, swinging at Lucia with a greatsword. Lucia remembered her father's lessons and side-stepped the attack, using the haft of her axe to knock the blade further away. Then, before the Kingsworn could recover, she lunged with her dagger. The short blade pierced the padded jerkin and the Kingsworn dropped, gasping. Don't think, Lucia thought, keep going.

They reached the keep. Joric kicked the door wide open. The Fangs poured in, pausing only to let Samuel and Joric close the door and heave a heavy wooden chest in front of it.

'Stay here and guard the door,' Lucia said to Braith who grabbed Lars and Joric by the scruffs of their necks to stop them from following after the rest of the Fangs as Lucia led them through the tower. They came across no more of the Kingsworn, Lucia supposed they must all be outside by now. The only exception was one man who sat slumped in his chair where it seemed he had been eating his dinner. A black feathered arrow protruded from his eye. Lucia exchanged a glance with Samuel.

They kept going. Up a long flight of stairs. It was as they reached the top that Lucia heard a voice, a gruff voice raised in panic. Not bothering to wonder what it might be, Lucia ran forward through the door. It was the sight that greeted her that made her stop dead.

Llirvalie, the demure, nervous dark elf woman, was standing over a brawny man, her boot on his throat. The dress she had worn since Lucia had met her was gone. She now wore what looked like leather armour but so strange. It appeared one second to be black as ink, the next grey as smoke. She was wearing a deep cowl, though lowered to show her face, her silvery hair falling in a curtain around her dark skin. She held a quiver of arrows, fletched with black feathers on her back. In her hand she held a curved, single edged sword. It reminded Lucia of a sword she had once seen her father use. The word "Akaviri" came to mind.

'...took what was not yours,' Llirvalie was saying to the big man, reaching down to pull something that looked like grey cloth from the man's belt, 'and the Night Mistress does not smile on those who steal from Her.'

'Please...' the man gasped. Lucia could not imagine it was easy speaking at all with a boot on his neck, but that was all he was able to get out anyway. Llirvalie's blade plunged down into the man's chest. He let out a whining sound, shuddered and was still.

Llirvalie withdrew her sword, wiping it on the man's coat. Only then did she turn her attention to Lucia and the other blades who had now joined them, and was looking at Llirvalie with just as much shock as Lucia was.

'I was wondering where you would catch up,' Llirvalie said, smiling wickedly.

'You killed him!' Samuel exclaimed, looking down at the man who, Lucia had to assume, had been in command of the Kingsworn in the fort. This rather spoiled her plan for getting out again.

'Yes,' Llirvalie said, matter-of-factly, looking back down at the man, 'shame really. Normally the Guild would have welcomed men like him. But stealing from the Thieves Guild, from Nocturnal herself? Well that could not be permitted.'

'You're part of the Thieves Guild?' Lucia exclaimed. Beside her, she could feel Runa tensing.

Llirvalie chuckled warmly. 'I lead the Thieves Guild,' she said before turning to look back at Lucia, 'I am sorry for the deception, truly I am, but we needed to get you out of Riften. Mjoll makes things hard enough for us without you in the city as well. Besides, your father needs you elsewhere.'

The fury Lucia had been about to throw at the elf was forgotten at that.

'You know my father?' she exclaimed.

'Oh yes,' Llirvalie said, smiling, 'we've entered into something of an alliance.'

Lucia could hardly believe that. Uhther had never hidden his contempt of the Thieves Guild.

'Why would he ally himself with you?' she demanded.

Llirvalie sighed and walked over to the table. 'I'm not here to answer every question you have about the Dragonborn,' she said, 'I'm not exactly here on his instruction. He's off in the North-West. All he asked me to do was make sure this part of Skyrim was secure and that's what you're going to help me do.'

'What are you talking about?' Runa demanded. In answer, Llirvalie handed Lucia a piece of paper.

'These fools aren't the only ones,' she said, her voice dark, 'there are Kingsworn all over east Skyrim, trying to carry on the work of their beloved Ulfric the Idiot. The Dragonborn and I can't do what we need to do if we're having to worry about them. That's where you come in.'

Lucia looked down at the page. It was a map of Skyrim. Red crosses had been marked across it, most of which were in Eastmarch. Lucia looked back up, her eyes meeting the dark elf's red ones.

'If you want to help your father,' she said, and all coyness was gone from her voice now, 'deal with the Kingsworn. I will help where I can, but I can only do so much. Appeal to the jarls for help, I doubt Jarl Saerlund will deny you anything.'

Lucia didn't know how to take all this. Surely moving some of the guard out of Riften left the city vulnerable to further influence by the Thieves Guild. Whereas, if Llirvalie was telling the truth, could she afford not to follow her advice? She knew her father being in Haafingar meant he had begun his plan and, if that was the case, he certainly did not need the Kingsworn stirring up trouble. There would be plenty of that to come.

Looking down at the map made her decision for her. The biggest mark was on the bank of Lake Yorgrim, barely half a day from Windhelm. The Kingsworn were moving on Ulfric's old capital and there was little doubt what they'd do with the family of the Dragonborn if they took the city. Lucia turned back to the Fangs.

'We go north,' she said.