Ti'laan felt as if he spent too much time in the war room in Dragonsreach. For days at a time he would pour over maps, letters, reports, documents of all kinds, and today was one of those days.
At times Ti'laan thought that being a king cost more time than it was worth, but he quickly dashed those thoughts and turned his mind to more important matters.
Ti'laan studied a map of Skyrim intently, drawing with coloured ink around the areas that he controlled, and drawing with different colours the areas controlled by others: Forsworn, bandits, and the Empire itself.
In the corner, as he always was, Guraag the Bleeder sat with his feet resting on the table, his battle axe by his side.
Ti'laan felt a presence behind him, but refused to turn.
"What is it?" He asked with a drone.
There was a squeak, then someone cleared their throat.
"Forgive my intrusion, king, but I have –"
"News from the Sandros Clan, I know," Ti'laan finished for the man, turning and leaning easily against the table. "Well?" the lizard prompted.
The man cleared his throat. "Sandros refuses your invitation, king."
"What?!"
In an instant Ti'laan was in front of the man, with a webbed hand gripping his throat tightly.
The man choked and spluttered, grasping weakly at Ti'laan's hands.
Ti'laan scowled and tossed the man against the opposite wall. He hit it with a crash that sent furniture and ornaments tumbling.
"P-Please, king," the man stammered. "He said that should you force the offer on him he will be forced to take action."
"Forced to take action!" Ti'laan roared before laughing harshly. "Who is Sandros to think he can defeat the might of my kingdom?"
"You're right, king, of course you're right," the man continued frantically. "Perhaps if I had more time, I could convince Sandros to change his mind."
"Oh, no," Ti'laan said quietly, caressing the mans face. "I already gave you time, and then I gave you more time after that. I'm afraid your usefulness to me has expired."
The man sat in silence as the links connected in his mind. His eyes widened as what Ti'laan was saying dawned on him.
"No, king, I beg of you!"
"I am sorry," Ti'laan whispered.
The mans tortured screams echoed throughout Dragonsreach as Ti'laan dug his clawed thumbs into the mans eyeballs.
He buried his thumbs to the hand, and with a grunt tore the mans head from his body. With a cry of fury, Ti'laan lifted the bodiless head up and broke it in two, letting the blood within the skull spill onto him.
Ti'laan discarded the two halves of the skull and licked his lips ruefully, tasting the blood of the man that had once followed him… and failed him.
"Take the body and hang it from the frame above the gate," he instructed Guraag.
"There is no room for another body," the Orc said.
"Then plant the corpse on a pike and stick it in the ground by the main road," Ti'laan snapped.
Guraag nodded wryly before moving off, dragging the headless body in tow.
When he was alone Ti'laan took a deep breath and ran his hand over his head, his palm passing over the small horns adorned at the back of his skull.
Absently, he picked up a handful of letters and began rifling through them. They were all addressed to him, of course, some detailing acceptance of invitations to Whiterun, others rejecting those invitations. Ti'laan opened a returned letter from the College of Winterhold. As he read the letter his anger grew and flared.
"Grahh!" Ti'laan smashed his fist down on the table. Wood splintered as a spiderweb of cracks drew themselves across the woodwork.
Ti'laan regained himself and breathed. His eyes drifted over the documents on his desk once more until they settled on an envelope bearing a familiar insignia: that of the Aldmeri Dominion.
His mind raced. He hadn't contacted the Aldmeri Dominion. But if they're contacting him, it could either mean that they desire war, or –
Someone cleared their throat respectfully. Ti'laan turned and saw Emrik, standing formally with his hands behind his back.
Emrik nodded a greeting.
The lizard smiled.
"At last," he said, spreading his arms. "Someone with sense comes to see the king. How was your hunting trip?"
"Prosperous, king," Emrik said. "Vestya and I secured enough meat to feed a quarter of the city for some days."
Ti'laan chuckled. "If only the other hunting parties were as effective as you and that Wood Elf."
Emrik waited for some moments, unsure of how to proceed.
Ti'laan sensed this. "What can I do for you, Emrik?"
"Something came up during the hunting trip," Emrik began. "Something I believe requires attention."
"What would that be?"
"The Forsworn have been seen coming further east. They are growing bolder, perhaps even stronger. They may be staging an attack."
"Oh, yes, I'm aware of their activities," Ti'laan said matter-of-factly.
"You know?"
"Of course," Ti'laan said. "I gave them permission to use tracts of land within the hold, a show of good faith."
"Good faith?" Emrik asked, confused. "Why?"
"The Forsworn are powerful allies to have," Ti'laan explained. "Of course, they're not our allies, per say. Not yet."
Emrik opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it.
"You know, Emrik," Ti'laan began. "I'm glad you came to see me. I have a task for someone who shows your level of competence and initiative."
"With all due respect, king, I don't feel ready for another hunting trip just now," Emrik interjected.
Ti'laan laughed. "No, no, of course not. Tell me," Ti'laan lowered his voice and placed a hand on Emrik's shoulder. "How would you like to serve you king in expanding his kingdom?"
Thought etched itself across Emrik's features. Ti'laan watched him with contained expectation.
"I would be honoured, king," the Nord said.
Ti'laan clapped the man on the shoulder. "Very good! Report here at midmorning tomorrow and I'll tell you all of the details."
"Yes, king," Emrik said, bowing deeply.
"Oh, and Emrik?"
"Yes, king?"
"You may want to learn the arts of fire magics," the lizard said with a sly grin. "Your sword may prove ineffective against the enemies you may face."
Emrik raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
He bowed, and took his leave.
A/N: Hello all of you groovy people. I feel like some context at this point would be good. Just so you all know (in case you haven't figured it out) the Imperials won the Skyrim Civil War, and the Dragon Crisis has not, I repeat, has not happened.
This chapter and the last chapter have really been 'filler chapters' to get from one awesome point in the story to the other, but I'm hoping you guys are enjoying it all the same.
I only plan on putting this notes here when I feel they are needed, otherwise I'll keep all of the note-writing to a minimum. Also, the only reason chapters have been frequent thus far is because it's a long weekend and it's one of those rare occasions where I don't have homework, so don't be disappointed when chapters start to spread out of time periods longer than a few days.
Otherwise, thank you all and I'll see you for chapter seven!
