"But our brethren, the Dwemer, scorned the Daedra, and mocked our foolish rituals, and preferred instead their gods of Reason and Logic."
(Lord Vivec the Poet, False God of the Tribunal, Third Era)
It was the middle of the night before Lucius managed to stumble back to his tent in the middle of the Legion and Markarth guard camp, all but a few sentries walking around the rows of red Legion and green Reach guard tents. Argis was already fast asleep by the door as Lucius made his way inside, closing the flaps and quickly but silently removing his Dragonbone armour to reveal a set of rough but comfortable red Legion travelling clothes. Stacking his armour in the corner he took off his sword belt, and placed them by the Ebony Blade, which sat, still glowing red, in the corner of the room.
Suppressing a yawn he threw out his bedroll, thinking back to the events of the last few hours.
And, with thoughts of giants, Dwemer and Serana in his head, the Dragonborn let sleep take him.
Lucius opened his eyes and found himself in the midst of a ball of blinding golden light, surrounded by sixteen indistinct figures of both shadow and light, many of them human shaped but others appearing to be dragons, tentacle orbs or towering giants.
"The Daedra… he said, knowing that this was no mere dream and tried to reach out, but felt a burning sensation as his hand touched the golden edges of his new prison and recoiled.
As he nursed his burnt hand one of the bright figures stepped forward, the blinding light clinging to their form slowly stripping itself away to reveal a beautiful young woman, her skin unnaturally bright, dressed in flowing purple robes, a crown of suns around her head.
"I am Lady Azura of the Dusk and Dawn." She declared, her voice seeming to echo across the vast space beyond. "We have brought you here, mortal, to ask for your aid."
Lucius' expression hardened. He had had dealings with the Daedra before, had been told to betray and kill in their name but, as far as he could, had tried to stay away from their tricks and games, trusting in the Nine Divines to protect him from their wrath.
"What do you want, Daedra?" He replied, his voice now firm and uncompromising, all trace of mirth or kindness lost. And, as he spoke, he felt ethereal flames gathering around his body, and felt a warm sensation throughout him, seeming to protect and shield him from whatever harm the Daedra would wish to do to him.
Azura smiled, but there was anger in her eyes. "You would do well to not insult the Daedra…Dragonborn. We desire your help in destroying the Dwemer."
"Destroying?" Lucius said with a slight nervous laugh. "Why would I wish to destroy them? I only wish to protect Tamriel. Surely whatever they wish to do is not horrific enough to justify destroying them all? I could name many among your fellow Daedra who have done far worse…."
Azura frowned, and Lucius saw her form began to glow brighter, as if in anger.
"They wish for revenge upon all creation mortal! They believe themselves greater than all life!"
Lucius frowned. "Why though? What could possibly have been done to them that they feel themselves above all others?"
Another figure stepped down from the group looking down, forming itself out of both shadows and light into a grinning pale man with horns and the legs of a goat, a large wolfhound at his feet, who spoke with a cheerful tone.
"I can answer that one Dragonborn! Clavicus Vile, Prince of Power, at your service. I believe you helped my friend Barbas here return to Oblivion. Much obliged!" he added with another grin but Lucius didn't return the smile. Vile may have looked and sounded genial and friendly but, besides Barbas, his faithful dog and conscience, he was an amoral and deceitful creature.
"Go on." Lucius said briskly, seeing the flames around him begin to burn brighter, showing his rising frustration.
"Well the long and short of it is…" Vile said with a wry grin. "Our friend Azura here sought to punish the Dwemer for their little…experiment with gaining godhood."
Azura visibly stiffened at Vile's remarks, but the Prince of Power only smirked even more as he continued.
"She trapped them within a prison of blinding light, an entire race, told then of their crimes and then scattered them across our realms. I had a lot of fun playing with the ones you sent me!" he said aside to Azura. "They did like to bargain and threaten with me but without their precious machine-men they ended up falling to my little deals…" he added darkly.
At this point Azura interrupted. "They used all their foul sciences and false magic over the centuries, used the immortal lives they had while in our realms, and they rebelled. Once they united their people the foul Dwemer did make our lives most difficult. Even the horrors of all the realms of the Daedra were not sufficient to break them…"
As Lucius listened he felt his whole being seem to go cold in horror and fear at what the Daedra had done to the Dwemer. He felt shame and a sense of sympathy for the Dwarves, but he knew that they were still an enemy as well.
"You imprisoned them and tortured them for centuries…no, whole Eras, and you expect me to help you finish the job!" As he said this his voice began to become louder and firmer and the ethereal flames around his body began to form into dragon-like armour of shifting blues and oranges and he noticed both Azura and Clavicus Vile look uneasy.
But then another figure appeared, this one a horrific grotesque parody of a man, with grey skin and a bestial appearance, his eyes deep white pools showing a merciless will to dominate all life.
"Molog Bal…" Lucius said in a low voice, a slight tinge of fear coursing through him, remembering Serana's stories of the Lord of Domination's power and cruelty.
"Who are you to mock the immortal Daedra? We do not need your help, lowly servant of the Aedra. We shall crush the armies of the Dwemer ourselves and spare none. Their race is beyond any kind of redemption. And neither are you…" he said, as his hulking form slowly advanced on Lucius.
But then Lucius stood firm and his voice was calm, but with a quiet but powerful sense of authority behind it, which seemed to shake the golden sphere of light around him, his voice growing louder and more authoritative as he spoke.
"I am the Dragonborn. Alduin's Bane. Known as Ysmir by the Greybeards of High Hrothgar. Slayer of Dremora. The Bridge between the Races of Men and the Dovah. And I will not allow you, who see yourselves as more powerful than the gods, to destroy any race of Man or Mer, no matter what they themselves may have done, and no matter what tortures and punishments you have inflicted upon them. I am the Sword of Skyrim, the Bringer of Harmony between Races and the reason that you Daedra will fail…"
As he said this his voice was as loud as thunder and the sphere of light was broken, shattered into nothingness. And that's when he saw them, all sixteen of the Daedric Princes, supposed gods and bringers of strife and war, genuinely look scared for the first time since the Oblivion Crisis.
Their forms may have been horrific and grotesque, bestial and savage, or elegant and beautiful, but the Dragonborn looked them all in the eye and saw that they were indeed afraid of what he was saying-that he dared refuse their summons and orders.
Then one of the grotesque pantheon, the monstrous form of Mehrunes Dagon, a horrific Cyclops of red and black, spoke, his voice like a thundering avalanche.
"If you will not bow to us…Dragonborn, we shall have to condemn you to Oblivion."
As he said this all of the Daedra advanced and Lucius felt fear through him once again, and saw the flaming armour that had kept him safe and confident begin to fade.
Then he felt a great warmth descend upon him, and a voice within his mind spoke.
"All will be well." It said simply, but Lucius knew that he was speaking to one of the Divines.
And then the darkness beyond the Daedra was lit up in a flash of burning orange flame and the sixteen shrank back and a deafening roar of a dragon, louder and more impressive than that of Alduin himself, echoed across the void.
Lucius turned, away from the Daedra and their lies and coercion, hearing some of them turning to flee, as an immense dragon, wreathed in flame and itself made of bright red fire began to descend towards him and Lucius felt a sense of overwhelming joy and courage flood into every fibre of his being, as the immortal form of Akatosh, chief amongst the Nine Divines, drove off the Daedra and turned his burning visage towards Lucius, who felt as powerless as an insect compared to the god before him.
"Go, with my blessing, Dragonborn. To stand against all of the Daedra takes more courage than mortals could dream of." Akatosh said, in a voice filled with wisdom of ages past, and of the future. "Bring balance and peace to Tamriel. The Dwemer must be stopped but not by the Daedra, if the whole of creation is to be spared from destruction and chaos."
And then there was another blinding flash of light and Lucius felt himself slip into the real world once more.
Lucius awoke in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as he looked around the pitch black tent, almost expecting the Daedra to come back. He knew that had been no crazy dream as he saw the burn mark on his hand where he had touched Azura's golden sphere. The Daedra had spoken to him and Akatosh the God of Time had saved him from their anger and wrath.
"I need to know more…" he muttered to himself as he grabbed his armour, bundling it into a large canvas bag then throwing on his sword belt. As he went to reach for the Ebony Blade however, he found it gone, leaving only a red burn mark across the hide floor of the tent.
"So I really have angered the Daedra…" he said softly, in equal parts pride and fear. "It was a crap weapon anyway. I'm not betraying people for power…" he added as he got up, grabbing a loose piece of parchment and charcoal from a nearby kitbag and scribbling down a quick message to Legate Galliverie and Argis, saying he would meet them in Whiterun as soon as he had returned from his journey for answers.
Casting a quick Muffle spell on himself before stepping over Argis the Bulwark's still sleeping form, Lucius carefully pushed through the flaps of the tent and out into the night. His horse was already saddled and ready outside, as he had made sure before he went to sleep, just in case he needed to get out quick.
Clambering atop the horse, making sure the saddlebags either side were still filled with provisions and supplies for the journey ahead, Lucius quickly trotted out of the encampment, making sure to stay low in the saddle and away from the torchlights of the patrolling Orc and Imperial sentries and, opening the main gate with a muttered lockpicking spell he had learned from his friends in the Thieves Guild, rode out and into the night.