Emrik crouched carefully in the undergrowth and ran his fingers through his light stubble. It was early morning, and the crisp air had been quick to wake him up. Dawns' light cut through the thin layer of clouds and cast spots of orange on the grassy earth.

Emrik's breath fogged in front of his face as he let out a breath. Consciously, he zoned in on the deer.

With smooth, calculated movements, Emrik took the arrow and knocked it to his Dwarven bow (a welcome step up from his previous weapon). He breathed deeply, let out half a breath, waited a beat, and –

"Hey," a familiar voice said from next to him.

Emrik all but jumped in surprise, and he cursed as the arrow flew several yards clear of his prey.

The deer perked up, and noticing the threat of Emrik's presence, began to run.

"You might want to get that," Vestya said from beside him.

He scowled at her as she took an arrow from its quiver, knocked it to her hunting bow, briefly took aim and fired.

With a hiss and a thud, the deer came down, an arrow planted firmly in its skull.

"You couldn't let me have the kill, could you?" Emrik said, crouching down to the now dead dear and drawing a dagger.

"You can't take all the glory," the Bosmer woman said good-humouredly.

Emrik chuckled lightly, and after removing the arrow from the deer's skull hoisted the animal onto his shoulder.

Emrik followed Vestya over the plains. With each step, the sun rose a little more, and by the time the two arrived at their camp the sun was casting its warming light over the landscape.

Emrik and Vestya had set up their hunting camp some miles due west of Whiterun. The camp was all a hunting camp needed to be. The embers of a campfire sat burning in a pit, and two tents were situated at the northern and southern ends of the camp. Two horses were tethered to a close-by tree, and close to the horses was a cart that was piled high with game, some of which was close to decaying.

The two had been camping here for almost three days now, and in those three days they'd caught and killed enough game to feed maybe a quarter of Whiterun's new population.

Thinking of Whiterun now, Emrik cast his eyes to the east. The roof of Dragonsreach was only just visible on the horizon. In the two months that Ti'laan had ruled over Whiterun, the bandit population had tripled and then tripled again. Of course, Ti'laan's invitation had been rejected by a lot of the major bandit clans across Skyrim, but most (if not all) of the minor bandit clans had come from all directions to join under Ti'laan's banner and be a part of his bandit kingdom.

But of course, the kingdom isn't without its problems. Emrik thought bitterly.

Ryann had become a continuous thorn in his side with every mission or task Ti'laan handed to him. Jealousy is a curse.

The Empire had also proven to be an issue for Ti'laan, though Emrik knew his king would never agree to the fact. The only thing that prevented Imperial banners from storming the walls of Whiterun was the fact that Ti'laan still kept all of Whiterun's nobles prisoner, and the promise that should any action be taken against them, some of the provinces most influential people would be slaughtered.

Emrik reflected on these thoughts as he dumped the deer onto the cart with the other meat.

He stretched. "I think we're good to break camp," he said. "When you're read–"

The wind was knocked from his as Vestya tackled him to the rough dirt.

"What in Oblivion is the matter with you!" Emrik accused between wheezes.

"Shut up!" Vestya hissed.

Confused, Emrik rolled onto his stomach and followed Vestya's gaze.

Ahead of them was a group of travellers. They wore savage-looking garb made up of furs and bones. Strapped to their sides were unconventional blades and axes, while on their backs were bows made of sticks and bones.

"Forsworn…" Emrik whispered.

The duo lay on the ground waiting, hoping, that the Forsworn would pass by without discovering them.

The seconds felt like hours, and the minutes days, but at last the group of Reachmen had disappeared from view.

Emrik and Vestya waited some more moments before they slowly picked themselves up from the dirt.

Emrik brushed himself off.

"What are the Forsworn doing here?" He said absently. "I didn't know we'd travelled so far west."

"We haven't," Vestya replied darkly. "They're coming east."

"But… why?"

Vestya shrugged. "A bandit kingdom rises in the centre Skyrim. That's enough hope for any renegade."

Emrik waited some moments, mulling the prospect of a growing Forsworn army over.

"We should break camp and return to Whiterun," Vestya said.

"Yes," Emrik nodded. "Yes we should."


It took some hours to get back to Whiterun.

In the last two months the city had changed dramatically. The city walls were lined with wooden spikes, and some boardwalks and balconies had been built on the outer walls to host more lookouts.

Just above the gate was a wooden frame, and hanging from that wooden frame were the mangled and mutilated bodies of the bandits who had opposed Ti'laan's rule. Some had even challenged him to combat, and Ti'laan had beaten them all with just his hands. No one survived for longer than a minute.

Emrik and Vestya reined their horses near the stables and greeted Darrius, who had been charged with operating the toll road. Darrius was less than delighted with this prospect. He made up for it by taking more of the toll to keep than was necessary.

"Compensation," he'd say simply.

Emrik saw a shadow flitter by out of his peripheral vision as he fed an apple to his horse. He knew what it was, but he waited.

He felt rather than saw the young boy sneak up behind him. He waited some more, making sure to not alert the boy that he knew.

When he was sure the boy was reaching for his pockets, he spun around and grasped his wrist.

"Know who you're robbing before you rob them, Stefan," Emrik said with a smirk.

The young Imperial boy wrenched his hand free from Emrik's gasp and laughed.

"It's good to see you, Emrik," he said lightly.

"What's been happening over the last few days?"

Stefan shrugged. "Nothing much. Ti'laan killed another betrayer."

"I thought I saw another body hanging there," Emrik said absently.

"Hey Emrik," Vestya called.

Emrik turned and saw the Bosmer woman with the massive form of Krole unpacking the cart of its dead animals.

"Care to lend a hand?"

"I'll get there," Emrik assured.

Vestya shook her head, but smiled.

The two had been spending a lot more time together over the last few weeks. Nothing had developed, but Emrik couldn't help but think that maybe…

"My brother has been in the kings ear while you've been gone," Stefan practically snorted, interrupting his thoughts.

"Sounds like Ryann," Emrik agreed.

"Yep," Stefan said.

"He hasn't...?" Emrik let the question hang in the air.

"No," Stefan said, gingerly brushing his fingers against a purple-yellow bruise on his shoulder. "Not recently, at least."

"I guess that's good news," Emrik tried.

Stefan only grunted.

Emrik felt someone's eyes burning into him. He looked up to one of the lookouts and his eyes met Ryann's.

"You should probably go Stefan," Emrik said firmly.

Stefan looked at Emrik and then to Ryann, before shrugging and bounding off.

Vestya rested a hand on Emrik's shoulder.

"What was that about?" She asked.

Emrik sighed with exasperation. "Nothing. Nothing important, at least."

He turned to face Vestya.

"We finished unpacking the cart. You missed out," the woman said.

"What a shame," Emrik said sarcastically.

Vestya laughed and elbowed him playfully.

"I'm going to tell Ti'laan about the Forsworn," he said.

Vestya nodded. "I'll catch up with you later, then. I hear there's a new shipment of ale in at the Bannered Mare."

"Sold," Emrik said.

The two briefly hugged and parted ways.

Emrik made his way up the pathway that lead to Whiterun's main gates, occasionally stopping to swap small talk with some of the bandits he knew by name.

He looked up again at the bodies hanging from the frame, and was almost shocked at what he saw, like he was every time.

Some of the formerly alive betrayers had only sustained missing limbs and vicious wounds in their battle with Ti'laan, others had been mutilated beyond the recognition of being at all human. Hanging from one of the ropes was half a body. As Emrik remembered it, Ti'laan had torn this particular betrayer in half.

He was about to enter the city when he was caught on the shoulder and spun around, only to find himself face-to-face with Ryann.

Ryann looked at Emrik with what could only be disgust and hatred.

"I know what you're trying to do, Emrik," he said harshly. "You're trying to have me killed. Turn my brother against me!"

Emrik calmly brushed Ryann's hand from his shoulder.

"I don't have to turn your brother against you," Emrik said evenly. "You're doing that yourself."