Chapter 3: The Speech

Erik's whetstone hissed as he dragged it along the edge of his katana, a single movement of his arm and the traditional Akaviri blade was made even more deadly than it had been. He did not know the details, but Erik had been told that the Akaviri forged their blades by folding the steel into layers, the structure of the blade becoming stronger, making a sword made of simple steel into a blade that was even lighter and stronger than that of elven make.

The young Nord leaned against one of the pillars that surrounded the training courtyard of Sky Haven Temple, the last bastion of the Blades. Ever since Delphine, the self appointed Grandmaster of the Blades, revived the order she had sent out secret messages to contacts throughout Tamriel, and soon a few dozen people arrived at the temple. Some were either members of the original blades like Delphine and Loremaster Esbern who had been in hiding for years, many more were the sons and daughters of the Blades that fell during the Great War. However, there were a few like Erik, a former mercenary from Rorickstead, who had been brought before Delphine by another.

Though it had only been little more than a year since he joined the Blades, to Erik it felt as if it had been a lifetime ago that he had been working the fields of Rorickstead, his father refusing to let him venture from the village. He smiled to himself as he continued to run the whetstone along the edge of his sword, seeing his own reflection in the surface of the metal. Though the smile did not last long. Though it had been Aurelian that had brought him to the temple it was him who he now saw the least. He was one of the few members of the Blades who knew that the Dragonborn walked out of Sky Haven Temple, refusing to return. He had watched as he argued with Delphine, refusing her wishes to see a dragon named Paarthunax slain. All Erik knew was that Aurelian refused to kill the dragon, on account that it could be trusted, whilst Delphine and Esbern refused to give him any other aid until Paarthunax was dead. He had been ordered to leave the room after watching the argument for a while. It was not until after Aurelian had left that the two elder Blades told most of the other recruits that Aurelian was working alone from now on, but they would never elaborate on why.

Erik yelped, dropping the whetstone and pulling his hand away from his sword. As his mind had wandered, so too had his hands thus instead of running the stone along the blade's edge, he had run the tips of his fingers along the edge of the blade. Warmth slowly travelled from the tips of his fingers down to his hand. Blood soaked into the fabric that made up his gloves, and he began to curse himself for his stupidity. If he had still been living on the farm, he would either be shouting in pain or struggling not to. His time with the Blades however had left his skin scarred and his body broken enough times that pain felt normal to him, as if his whole purpose was to take the pain so as that other people might not.

"Have a little accident did we?" a woman's voice spoke, breaking the silence that Erik had been wrapped in.

"I suppose you could say that." He held up his injured hand. "My own fault, too far lost in my own thoughts."

Illia chuckled slightly as she took his hand examining it. "You've certainly made a mess of it, I'm afraid we'll have to lop them off."

Erik gave a look of mock-horror. "Oh no, please my lady, don't take my fingers! A man cannot work without fingers! I'll be a beggar!"

"Alright enough of that," Illia said, flicking one his fingers, causing him to hold his tongue. She took his hand again in one of her own, her other hand hovering over it. A golden light began to bloom from her palm, illuminating the courtyard. Erik smiled as he watched his blood slowly seep out of his glove and back into the wound. As the blood disappeared the skin on the tips of his finger melded back together and when Illia let go of him and the light faded away, it was as if the wound had never existed. Though he still had the holes in his gloves, his fingers were no longer bleeding, which was where he stopped caring.

Erik thanked her, examining the work she had done. Though he had fought alongside the young mage a few times now, having grown up in Rorickstead had left him unexposed to the wonders of magic for most of his life. Where most Nords looked at magic as nothing more than a destructive and corruptive force, Erik saw only the unlimited potential it held to help others. He had even had a few of the other Blades begin tutoring him in basic spells. He had been exceptionally proud in his ability to light fires and candles using only his hands.

"What're you doing sitting out here by yourself anyway?" Illia asked as she sat down beside him. "Never took you for one to stare menacingly into the night."

"Just thinking," Erik replied, sheathing his sword, "Not hard enough it seems," he laughed as he admired the mess he had made of his gloves.

"You're thinking about Aurelian, aren't you?" she asked, but was met only with silence. "Of course you are, you've known him longer that most here, certainly longer than I ever did." Illia had joined the Blades some months ago, advised by Aurelian, who had already left Sky-Haven Temple, to join the dragon hunters in order to find a place to put her gifts in the arcane arts to good use.

"I'm still just trying to get my head around why he left. If it really was just about killing a dragon, then why would he just storm off, never to return?"

" For the Dragonborn, the greatest dragon slayer, to not want to kill a dragon, he must have had a good reason."

"I suppose having the soul of a dragon isn't all it's made out to be."

"Amazing they haven't asked us to hunt him down and kill him. Mortal form or not, he is a Dragon. I cannot begin to think what would have happened had he turned against us violently when he left."

Erik went silent at that, seeming lost in his thoughts.

She gave him a nudge. 'What is it? What are you thinking?'

'As Blades we are sworn to defend Tamriel against dragons when they prey on the people. But Aurelian is the strongest of the dragons now, and has probably killed more dragons than all of us combined. If he says one dragon is worth sparring, then who are we to argue?" he turned to her. "The Dragon Crisis is over. Perhaps its time the Blades find a new mission."

She raised a brow. "Are you saying we disband?"

He smirked slightly. "Well… we were once known as the Akaviri Dragonguard. Dragonguard… I think I like the sound of that."

Illia smiled and shook her head. 'A touch dramatic if you ask me, but you have a good point.' She shrugged. 'That and I don't like Delphine that much anyway. Even if we were to serve Aurelian, what would we do? We'd be over glorified body guards. From what I've heard he's moved on from adventuring, Legate Octavius he calls himself now. Even if we found a purpose there, it's only the two of us."

"Some of the recruits might see it our way, the ones Aurelian sent here. As for the Legate, I travelled with Aurelian for some time. If there is one thing besides killing dragons that he is good at, it's finding some way of getting himself into trouble, soldier or not."

'Perhaps the Legate will require some assistance then?' a voice spoke, causing Erik and Illia to reach for their swords. They only stopped when they saw Kharjo, a Khajiit sellsword turned Blade, standing in front of them with his arms crossed mere feet away. Erik felt as if he had been standing there a while. Despite wearing the heavy armour of a Blade, the cat-man was able to sneak up on them both.

'How much did you hear?' Erik asked.

'Enough for Kharjo to know what you're planning,' he said before he gave a feline grin. 'You really need to keep your ears open; we could have been the wrong ears to hear you.'

'We?' Ilia asked, and almost on cue three more figures stepped out of the shadows. A wood elf named Faendal, a tall nord woman named Mjoll along with her companion Aerin. All of them except for Aerin donning their Akaviri armour.

'So,' Mjoll asked as she stepped forward. 'Dragonguard, eh?'

"Attention!" Strabo shouted, and thousands of legionaries obeyed. Despite his height, Strabo knew how to project his voice, alongside the other officers scattered amongst the cohorts. The Ninth was made up of mostly lightly armoured auxiliary, with only the officers being protect by heavy armour along with a few hundred veterans, many of them wearing the armour they had worn in the great war. a few of them fully armoured.

Aurelian and Lydia exited the command tent to the sight of the gathered men and women of the Ninth Legion, a force made up primarily of Imperials and Nords, but there were a few Legionaries from other races as well. They had come from across Skyrim, some from provinces beyond the mountains, all ready to fight under the Dragonborn. Although many of them had been tested in open battle before, there were still a great many of them that would have their first real taste of war that night. Although they were eager, Aurelian feared how many of them would fall, never returning to their homes or families.

Strabo turned and saluted his Legate before taking his own position in the formation, snapping to attention.

A small raised wooden platform had been erected in front of the command tent. More often than not it was Strabo or whichever officer was in charge to help run drills. Today, it was Aurelian's podium. He stood atop it, looking out over his Legion. A great army they were not, but they were his army.

"Legionaries of the Ninth," he began, doing his best to be loud enough for all of them to hear without shouting. He wanted to talk to them, not command them. Even so, he had officers scattered amongst the men, who at every pause of his words they were to repeat back what he said. It was usually much easier with a prepared speech, but they were used to Aurelian and his love of improvisation. "Tonight…" He hesitated. He had given himself a few minutes to prepare, even that had not been enough.

"Tonight is the last night of this war. For many of you it will be the last of many months, for others it will be your first time on the battlefield. Make no mistake, whether veterans or not all of us will be challenged tonight. We will see blood and death like never before, for the Stormcloaks will fight like cornered animals. This is their last stand. They will try to break you, your body, your spirit and your courage." Some movement entering the camp caught his eyes, but he chose to push through the distraction.

"I know that for some of you, there may be people inside those walls that you know. Some of them you call friends, some of them will be your kin. I cannot tell you to ignore those feelings, I have no right to. Not as a Legate and not as Dragonborn. I will tell you only this; when you enter that city it will be as soldiers of the Imperial Legion. You will be seen as invaders to these people, so be prepared to be treated as such. Ultimately the choice will be yours as to what you do." A darker look crossed his face then. His voice maintained its volume, but somehow became lower, more like a growl. "But I will warn you. Desertion, or refusal to follow orders will be met with severe punishment. I will not tolerate such actions on the final day of this war. Too many have given their lives for me to overlook cowardice or insubordination. However," he went to speak, his eyes finally being pulled by the distraction at the entrance of camp.

A small detachment of Nord Soldiers bearing the arms and armour of Solitude. In their midst was a brilliant white horse, atop which sat Jarl Elisif, her red hair dancing in the icy breeze. Aurelian could see her smile, despite the distance between them.

Aurelian cleared his throat. "However, today is the final day of this war. It is not a day that we go looking to cut deeper wounds into this country. I will not tolerate insubordination, but I will look favourably on those who show mercy. Any Stormcloak who throws down their arms before you tonight, you are to accept their surrender and they are to be treated with honor."

He looked across the faces of those gathered before him. They were listening, and the looks on their faces told him that he would have nothing to worry about.

"Our actions here today will echo through the years to come, to the end of this era and those of the future. Let history remember this as the day that Skyrim was once more united under the banner of the Empire. And let history say it was the Ninth Legion of Skyrim that delivered Ulfric Stormcloak to the afterlife!" He drew his sword, holding it aloft and pointing it to the sky. It was not typical Legion steel, nor did it shine in the light of dawn. It's blade was not symmetrical, nor was it any kind of metal at all, but Dragonbone.

"For the Empire! For the Ninth Legion!"

A cry went up from the soldiers as steel was drawn and held up to the sky.

"For the Empire!" they cried.

Some clashed their swords and shields together as the roar became almost deafening. They continued like this for some time, Strabo and the other officers joining the chorus did little to dissuade them from stopping. Aurelian soon sheathed his sword, giving the nod to Strabo, who immediately got about to quelling the war cry. Drills were quickly begun, the enthusiasm of their cries making its way into their actions as they practiced formations and shield work.

As the drills went underway, Aurelian departed his podium, making his way to the guests at the front of the camp followed by Lydia. Once, long ago, a step towards the Jarl meant a lot of guards were suddenly on edge, their hands on sword hilts and their eyes locked with whoever was approaching. A natural reaction, given the death of the High King. Now however, the Jarl's guard parted for him as he approached, bowing their heads somewhat.

Elisif looked down at him with a smile from her horse, bowing her own head somewhat.

"Dragonborn," she greeted. "I apologise for arriving in the middle of your address to your men."

Aurelian gave a low bow of his head. "There is no need for apologies, Jarl Elisif." He raised his head, looking up at her with a smile of his own. "Your presence here is a welcome one to the Ninth Legion."

"I am happy to hear that, Legate. I apologise that we were not able to speak more when I arrived. The General and I had some… matters to discuss." She looked somewhat disheartened as she spoke. No doubt Tullius had lectured her about her presence on the front lines.

"I am sure they were matters of importance, my Lady. But now that you are here, how can I assist you?"

Her smile returned. "I have not had breakfast yet."

He could think of half a dozen different duties that may have demanded his attention. However Aurelian feared that the Jarl was informed enough to realise that as a Legate he had a number of officers of which to delegate such tasks to. They had convened in Aurelian's tent, with bread, fruits as well as some cold meat from the previous night's dinner. Thankfully, though he was somewhat dismayed by it, Ulpia was gone, the only trace of her presence was an unmade bed and the slight bruises on Aurelian's neck. His armour thankfully hid them.

Elisif's guard alongside Lydia remained stationed outside the tent as the conversation began of the state of Solitude, how the people were eager for an end to the war with an Imperial victory. Elisif spoke uninterrupted for a while, talking about court gossip and small matters regarding city politics. Aurelian did listen, or at least he tried. The topics of the conversation held little interest to him. Still, he did enjoy hearing her talk, seeing her smile and laughing at whatever joke she had just made regarding one nobleman or another. She seemed far happier than the first time Aurelian had met her.

"And oh, how you should have been there for the festival. Truly, the Bards College knows just how to bring joy to everyone. It would have been incredible to see you there, you having continued in Olaf's footsteps."

Aurelian's brow rose at that. "I'm going to have an effigy burned in my honor am I?"

She laughed. He liked hearing her laugh. "No, you follow Olaf's footsteps for capturing a dragon, in the same place as he did no less." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "I heard that you rode that dragon all the way to Sovngarde."

"Not all the way," Aurelian corrected. "Just close enough that I'd be able to do what needed to be done."

"What was it like? Was it as the stories say?"

He went silent, reflecting back onto the memory. It had not been so long that time would play its tricks on his memory, but trying to remember every detail was like trying to relive every moment of a vivid dream. You could only remember so much before you realised there were gaping holes in the details.

"It was like it was night, but it wasn't dark. The sky was illuminated with a light that shone alongside stars I'd never seen before. The Hall of Valor was…" he trailed off. "Forgive me my Lady, it's hard to put into words. I'm not much of a Bard."

"It's quite alright," she said, her finger tracing the rim of her cup. "Did you… did you see the souls there? Those of the departed.

Aurelian nodded. "I did. I fought alongside some of them as we slew Alduin. Something I will remember until the day I die."

"Did…" she trailed off, taking a drink from her cup. "Never mind, I'm sorry for all of the questions."

He nodded to her with a smile. "You are more welcome to ask them. I insist."

She went silent, her grip tightening slightly on the cup. "The King… my husband. Was he there?"

A question he did not anticipate. The soul of High King Torryg had been an unexpected meeting to say the least. He had never met the man, it had only been his words that made Aurelian realise his identity.

... my sole regret was fair Elisif, left forlorn and weeping…

"He was. I did not see him cross the whale bone bridge, but he was there."

A sad smile appeared on Elisif's face, her eyes watering somewhat. "That is good to know."

They sat in silence for a time. There was little small talk to be had after a subject like that. They sat there, picking at the food and drink until Elisif quietly broke the silence.

"What will you do once this war is over?"

The silence carried on for a short time. "I do not know. I still serve the Legion, it may very well be up to the General where I go. Even after the war is over we will ensure the peace remains. I doubt I will be leaving skyrim soon."

"I am glad to hear that," she said, looking up at him with a smile. "Skyrim still needs you. Your presence is… comforting."

Aurelian chuckled lightly as he drank from his cup. "I've been called a lot of things, but comforting? Well, it's a new one."

"It's what I think of you as," she said.

It was only in that moment that Aurelian looked at her, seeing the look in her eyes. It was a look that made him freeze somewhat, and he was not certain if he was blushing or not. Since the two of them had met she had only ever given him that look a few other times. Once when he returned from Wolfskull Cave. Another time when he returned from placing Torryg's warhorn before a hidden shrine of Talos. The last time she had done so was when he had been given his commission as a Legate. She had been there when Tullius formerly had him recognised before the people of Solitude. Good for morale, Tullius had said, to see the Dragonborn being granted a command within the Imperial Legion. Elisif had been there to witness the event. She had given him that same look. A look that spoke of something deeper.

"My lady-"

"Please," she cut him off softly. "Just call me Elisif…"

He nodded slowly, his own voice soft now. "Elisif you-"

"Legate," Strabo's voice cut them off as the Prefect marched into the tent, standing to attention. "Pardon my interruption, sir. A runner just came to us from the General. Our scouts reported riders on our southern flank."

Aurelian stood from his seat, retrieving his sword, tying it to his waist. "A Stormcloak flank, how did they get around us?" He could not deny it, but it had been weeks since their last engagement. He was eager to charge into the fray.

"Uncertain sir, but General Tullius requests that we send whatever cavalry we have to join Legate Fasendil."

"To Oblivion with that, I will lead them myself," he said as he strapped his gauntlets back onto his arms. "Sound assembly for our cavalry. I want them armoured, mounted and ready to ride as soon as can be done. Make ready my horse."

"As you command, sir." He saluted before proceeding outside. A number of barked orders from him were all the confirmation that Aurelian needed that his orders were being followed

As Aurelian pulled on his cloak he only just realized that he and Elisif were alone once more. They looked at each other, and Aurelian could see that she was wanting to continue the conversation. She looked upset, yet calm at the same time, the way only a woman could. The sound of mass movement outside drowning out the silence between them.

"It's probably best that you go to the central camp, My Lady." Aurelian spoke first. "You will be safe there."

Elisif looked down, nodding before rising from her chair. "Thank you for the advice, Legate, but I have been given lodgings at the supply base at Fort Morvunskar. I will be safe there. Fair well." She exited the tent without another word, Aurelian following her awkwardly. Outside they were met by their guards. Lydia stood by Aurelian's side as the rest followed Elisif back to her horse. The Jarl did not look back at him until after she had mounted her horse, only giving him a small nod before her and her entourage exited the camp as soldiers scattered about them, preparing the cavalry.

After she was out of ear shot, Aurelian allowed a long sigh to escape him.

"You know she likes you, right?" Lydia asked. "And I think with that farewell you annoyed her."

"I am aware," Aurelian sighed again, realising he was likely not going to hear the end of it from his Housecarl.

"You know you could have just sent one of the Tribunes with the cavalry. Now you're making her think you would rather fight than talk to her."

"We're at war, Lydia."

"Not after tonight we won't be. And as of right now you just took three steps back from her as she took a step toward you."

"I'm a Legate of the Imperial Legion"

"A bachelor Legate, and she's a beautiful widow."

"She's the Jarl of Solitude."

"She's a rich beautiful widow."

Aurelian turned to glare at his Housecarl. He'd become far too used to soldiers buckling under his gaze and falling in line that he forgot Lydia was not prone to that sort of thing. Ever since they had met they had bantered, bickered and berated one another on all different things, especially Aurelian's romantic life, or rather his lack of one.

She grinned at him, ignoring his glare. "You know you could have delegated command. Why not stay with her?"

"I will not be the only Legate in this army who would rather fraternize with noblewomen in the hours before the battle. That…" he turned back to the road, catching only the barest glimpse of that red hair as it eventually made its way out of his sight. "That… and it's not like that. We're just friendly acquaintances."

Lydia smirked some more. "You seem to be staring an awful lot at your friendly acquaintance."

Aurelian shot her a glare. This time he meant it. "There will be no more discussion on this subject, Housecarl. Am I clear?"

The smirk disappeared. He never addressed her by her title. "Yes, my Thane."

"Now ready your horse," Aurelian said, a grim smirk on his face now. "Let's kill some rebels."

Used some content from a discontinued story I wrote some years ago. Hope the difference in writing style and editing didn't drive you too crazy.

Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think with a review, whether you liked it, hated it or if you want to see more.

Regards,

xcaliber