As the Dragonborn rode away from the fortress of the Giants to find answers, the armies of the Dwemer were already making their presence known on the slopes of Red Mountain for the second time since their arrival. Arrayed against them were rank after rank of elite Dunmer House Redoran troops in ornate bonemold armour, clutching ebony tipped spears and swords like their ancestors the Chimer once had on those same battlefield, against their old foe, backed up by a few formations of red armoured Imperial Legionnaires.
General Bahrma, clutching his heavy shield in one hand and an elegant spear in the other and his heavy golden armour shimmering in the growing morning sunlight, spurred his mechanical spider mount faster, eager to get to grips with the ranks of the House Redoran forces, his bodyguard, an entire division of Dwemer spider-riding cavalry, at his back, all charging onwards.
Glancing to his left and right he saw the soldiers of the Dwemer army, clad all in gold and bearing shining swords and tower shields, move into position, forming unmoving squares of solid infantry blocks. Here and there stiff moving automatons lumbered into position, Spheres and Spiders forming up to support the infantry, whilst the Centurions stood at the front of the main line, ready to charge at the general's command.
But it was the Dwemer cavalry that were his main focus. Two hundred of them, all riding low in the saddle, shields in one hand and long, thin spears with golden blades in the other, heads down as their automaton mounts spurred them onwards.
"Spearhead formation!" Bahrma bellowed, hearing his command taken up by officers throughout the cavalry, and in mere seconds the entire formation had formed into the classic V shape favoured by militaries across Tamriel for centuries. At its tip Bahrma rode, his second in command Volendun readying his lance next to him, the company standard bearer unfurling the green and golden flag of the Dwemer as they rode onward.
Up ahead the shield wall of the Dunmer's frontlines held firm, the fearless Dunmer troops rallied by priests of Azura and banner bearers shouting encouragement from their lines, their bone white shields locked together and ebony spears held out.
Taking a deep breath, his heart pounding and sweating inside his heavy armour, Bahrma gripped his spear even tighter, hearing a roar of triumph from his men behind and the answering shouts of defiance from the Dunmer front lines.
Then they met with a clash of metal and crack of bones.
The general ploughed straight though the front line, his men on either side charging in alongside him, their spears carving through the House Redoran lines, the enemies spears deflected by the scything claws of their automaton mounts.
Ramming his spear through the throat of a Dunmer, Bahrma brought his automaton thundering onwards, its mechanical legs scything down enemies on all sides, whilst his own weapon pierced bone armour and flesh alike, its tip splattered with blood as he stabbed and gored all in front of him.
Although it had been only mere seconds since they hit the Dunmer lines, the general sensed that they were already getting too far in. The first few ranks had parted like slaughtered animals but now the enemy ranks were closing in.
Spearing a heavyset Dunmer warrior thrusting a spear at him, Bahrma quickly dropped the now cumbersome weapon and drew his sword, throwing his left arm out and turning his automaton sharply. His troops instantly followed suit, many ditching their heavy spears and drawing their own swords, axes or maces, cutting down any Dunmer who came near as Bahrma led them in a sharp U-turn, through the flanks of the enemy army.
As the Dunmer lines panicked at this unexpected move, Bahrma, with Volendun following closely with his bloody mace held high, cut through their ranks and exploded out of the front formation, leaving the House Redoran front ranks dazed and quickly rushing to fill the gaps left by the Dwemer cavalry. Risking a glance back as they retreated back to the Dwemer lines, Bahrma watched with pride as the majority of his men broke free, many covered in blood and their automatons cutting a bloody swathe through the rapidly reforming Dark Elf ranks.
But already the Dunmer were in hot pursuit, their divisions at the front rushing forward in one solid line, a flight of arrows sailing towards the retreating cavalry.
"Shields!" Bahrma bellowed along with the other officers, and the clatter of the ebony arrows falling off the Dwemer's shields was all the response he needed.
And then the skies were filled with gold tipped arrows and bolts as the Dwemer archers atop the foothills of Red Mountain let fly, while the infantry quickly moved up in tight formation, heads down and shields up.
The front ranks of the Dunmer infantry formations literally disappeared as the Dwarven arrows an bolts tore through them, splintering their armour and piercing their flesh, the howls of pain and shouts for help drowned out by the bellowed orders and stamp of armoured feet as both sides moved forward.
Yet the two armies couldn't have been any different. The Dwemer ranks were solid and square, shields locked together and held both in front and on top of the warriors in the ranks, their automation units keeping the flanks secured as they rushed and stamped forward with hisses of steam and plumes of smoke. In direct contrast the Dark Elves and their Legion allies moved quickly in large shield walls, units of archers and battle mages letting off shots as they advanced, here and there command groups marked out by commanders and banner bearers on horseback, both Legion Legates and House Redoran Captains directing their troops together.
As the two armies moved towards one another, the Dwemer at a slow march and the House Redoran forces at a quick jog, General Bahrma and his command group clattered up to a rocky outcrop in the centre of the Dwemer battle lines, the slopes already covered by stout golden shield walls and lines of crossbowmen, the very top marked by Dwarven standards and a small knot of the armies main commanders.
Turning to Volendun as the cavalry began to ride off towards the flanks of the Dwemer army, Bahrma quickly said. "Take the main cavalry force and hit the Dunmer from the left flank. Our first charge disoriented them but we didn't do nearly enough damage to break them. Keep hammering at that flank while the infantry assault the centre. Engineer Nasir's automatons should be able to handle the right flanks."
Volendun saluted and galloped to the head of the cavalry whilst General Bahrma, his bodyguard of heavily armoured warriors and automatons peeling off to cover the outcrops edges as he came to the summit, the various commanders, all mounted atop their own spider mounts, saluting briskly before turning their attention to the battle at hand.
"What's the state of the enemy forces?" he asked the man to his left, Commander Vanant, the leader of the Dwemer scouting divisions, a small man made to look even smaller by his light golden armour- which made him look almost puny compared to the heavily armoured warriors on all sides.
"Their lines are strong- stronger than a lot of our men may have believed. Your cavalry charge disoriented them but they're still beating back my scout's attempts to harry their flanks. Commander Epona has been moving alongside her heavy cavalry units to drive a wedge between the Imperial and Dunmer divisions alongside the Riders of Dahaka."
Bahrma nodded. "Are they seeing any success?"
"See for yourself." The commander said, motioning with one gauntleted hand out over the plains beyond as the general removed his helmet and drew his telescope from his belt. "I believe Engineer Nasir's automaton legions are also charging the other side."
Looking out over the plain of baked earth beyond General Bahrma watched as the golden cavalry, led by the infamous Riders of Dahaka, charged the Dunmer's left flanks. Their leader, Cuolec the Red, was easily visible through Bahrma's telescope as the fearsome Dwemer warrior, clad in his distinctive red and gold armour, his cloak unfurling behind him like a crimson flag, tore towards the Dunmer lines alongside his warriors, their spider mounts and golden greatswords shining in the now bright sunlight.
With a sharp cry and clatter of steel on bronze, the cavalry hit the Dunmer lines, splintering shields and crushing Men and Mer alike as they cut through the House Redoran ranks, Cuolec at the centre of it all, his greatsword already covered in blood as he hacked and slashed at Dunmer and Imperial alike.
To the right came screams and shouts of desperation as rank after rank of Dwarven automatons, led by two dozen shining Centurions, stampeded through the Dunmer's right flanks, cutting through the lightly armoured archers and battle mages on the sides as battered groups of Dunmer warriors feebly attempted to mount a defence against them.
Bahrma heard a slight laugh from the diminutive form of Engineer Nasir, the leader of the automaton forces on the field, from behind and sighed.
"Let's not prolong this." The general said simply as he was handed a large communications lexicon cube by a sub-officer and, focusing his mind, he tapped into the telepathic link that all Dwemer shared known as 'The Calling' and ordered in a firm tone. "Send in the infantry cohorts."
Barely a few seconds had passed before, with a blast of war horns and stamping of thousands of booted feet, the golden squares of Dwemer infantry advanced, their shields easily knocking aside the volleys of Dunmer and Imperial arrows flying their way, hails of golden bolts and arrows covering their advance and cutting down the Dunmer in droves as their shield walls stood firm, ready to meet the Dwemer charge.
"They're brave at least." Commander Vanant said, removing his helmet and absently twirling his long fingers through his thick beard.
"Bravery means nothing against a superior force." Bahrma replied firmly. But he only said it to get Vanant to focus. He could see the Dunmer were a stronger force than the Imperials had ever been. Maybe some part of them remembered their ancestor's battles against the Dwemer in ages past.
As he said this the first of the infantry blocks, ten square units of them marching in perfect step, over a thousand Dwemer warriors moving as one, came close to the House Redoran lines. And when they struck, the Dunmer lines could barely resist their fury. Bahrma couldn't see what was happening even through his telescope, the movements of the two sides were so fast and confusing, but he knew exactly what his own warriors would be doing. It was the same drill that he had once been trained in, and fought with, back in Skyrim millennia ago. The rhythmic stab of the sword and push of the heavy metal shield had broken everything from Nordic berserker charges on the slopes of snowy mountains to Falmer hordes assaulting Blackreach. And it seemed to be working here, as the Dunmer lines began to break visibly, their shield walls crumbling under the repeated assault.
"Shall we commit the automatons in reserve?" asked Engineer Nasir, his eyes wide behind his hick goggles, as if relishing the chance to see his creations in combat once again.
Bahrma nodded slowly as the sounds of battle beyond began drifting up to their lofty position, the stench of blood and the distinctive oily smell of Dwarven metal brought their way by a slight breeze.
The small engineer put a hand to his temple, the other on his communications lexicon, the small cube shimmering with a pulsing red light for a second, and then the hiss and clank of automatons could be heard as the nearby regiment of automatons lumbered forward, the Centurions forming the centre of the unit, while the fast Spheres and Spiders covered the flanks.
The general felt an odd sense of fear as the automatons thundered down the low hill, groups of Dwemer archers moving up alongside them to fire into the Dunmer reserves. He respected the Engineer's machines and innovations but somehow, setting those creations upon an already desperate and battered enemy almost felt like rubbing salt in an already gaping wound.
He turned his attention back to the infantry cohorts, the second line of a thousand men in ten square 'turtle' formations moving up to support their fellows, along with thin lines of archers and crossbowmen. The infantry were, as he had expected, carving their way through the battered House Redoran forces, and, as he panned his telescope over the battlefield, he felt a slight sense of triumph at seeing the Dunmer forces break, a few groups of red uniformed Imperial troops visible retreating alongside their bone armoured comrades.
"Cuolec is demanding permission to pursue." One of the sub-officers said, his voice shaking slightly, as if the general was going to punish him for the arrogant cavalryman's words.
"Cuolec will demand nothing!" Bahrma snapped, turning his attention to the battle as a whole. Although it was only a few here and there, a unit of warriors here, a squad of battlemages or archers here, the general could see that the House Redoran army was breaking. This would soon turn into a rout.
He took a deep breath.
"Keep the infantry moving forward to secure the ground. Tell Cuolec to not pursue the retreating enemy." He added, stressing the order firmly. "Let them run. Enough blood has been spilt today. Let the Kar-Din run."
The various commanders and sub-officers around him all saluted, a few producing communications lexicons, the others shouting down to their own messengers.
As he watched the Dunmer and Imperials retreat across the baked earth plain beyond, Bahrma noticed the golden forms of the Riders of Dahaka, three hundred strong, break off from their movement back to the Dwemer lines and instead charge over the ridge, harrying the retreating House Redoran forces with arrows and the odd Dwemer soldier charging into their lines and cutting a few down with savage sword blows.
"What are they doing?" the general demanded, snapping his telescope closed, gripping the golden eyepiece in a firmer grip as his anger rose.
"I believe they are attacking the enemy baggage train and reserves." Engineer Nasir said dismissively. "A pity. I was hoping to study it to learn more about the Kar-Din's logistics."
Bahrma shook his head. "Call that arrogant fool back." He ordered. "I will not have men under my command running off on their own like that. We are not bandits or looters."
As one of the officers rushed to give the command, the general panned his gaze out over the disintegrating Dunmer army, men and Mer alike running, throwing down weapons and banners as they attempted to run. A few opportunistic Dwemer archers fired into them as they ran, but Bahrma felt a sense of approval as most of his soldiers abstained from running them down as the infantry moved in solid formations to secure the ground beyond.
Suddenly, across the plains beyond, dozens of bright purple explosions flashed out with a hum of arcane magic, deep black voids visible at the centre of them.
"What the…?" Commander Vanant said with genuine surprise, his hand going for the sword at his hip instinctively, the other officers and members of the command group looking on dumbly.
But Bahrma, getting over his initial shock, panned his telescope over the purple explosions.
"They're not disappearing." He observed, shouting out to the soldiers around him. "Those aren't explosions, they're portals!"
Engineer Nasir shook his head slowly, his eyes wide behind his goggles, this time in fear, not excitement. "Only one type of creature uses portals like that…"
"Daedra." The general stated simply, as hordes of red faced horned figures clad in black armour came pouring out of the portals, hefting evil looking swords and axes as they charged the Dwemer ranks.
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High Queen Anihata was sat atop the central dais in the grand but currently empty throne room near the centre of the Red Mountain stronghold, the only other figures two golden masked Guard of Kemel-Ze stood by the huge brass doors at the far end of the room, when those same doors were shoved open and a breathless messenger sprinted inside, pushing past the two Guards even as they raised their spears.
"My queen!" he shouted, his robes stained with sweat and flapping round him as he ran. The messenger sprinted down the centre of the huge room, his voice echoing around the carved stone pillars and grey walls. His footsteps slapping on the polished stone floor, he came to the base of the dais, standing on the first step and bowing low, fumbling his salute as he continued speaking, in a blatant disregard of court etiquette.
"My queen! The Daedra…they have, attacked our men in the field. Portals of purple fire!" he wheezed, completely out of breath and struggling to push the words out of his mouth as he continued. "General Bahrma is rallying his forces near the South Gate but the Dremora just keep coming from all sides."
"This came out of nowhere… Our defences aren't ready." Anihata muttered under her breath the said to the messenger. "Was there no warning? The Daedra can't just have come out of nowhere!"
The messenger looked ready to collapse from exhaustion and fear but then he spoke again. "The Tonal Architects were conducting a test of the Tonal Bridge and…it appears they may have run into some problems."
Anihata leapt from the throne, her long black hair whipping behind her as she quickly descended the stone steps, standing on the step just above the weary messenger. "Our Tonal Architects let the Daedra assault the Mountain? Do you have any other news before I go down to their chambers and personally throttle the life out of every last one of them for endangering our whole operation?" she demanded, her voice low and filled with barely contained anger.
The messenger spluttered feebly, then straightened up, saying simply. "Lord Kagrenac wishes to speak with you again."
Anihata turned away, shaking her head. "I have no time to use the Dimensional Sphere to speak with him… I'm more concerned with things happening in our plane of existence."
"With all due respect my queen…" came the reply. "Lord Kagrenac is in Red Mountain right now. Despite the…setback… the Tonal Bridge is active and Kagrenac has crossed over from the realms of Oblivion."
The High Queen turned back, her eyes widening momentarily before she remembered her position and straightened up to her full height, looking down on the prostrated messenger before her. "Take me to him-now. General Bahrma can keep the Daedra's forces at bay for now on his own…"
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General Bahrma raised his shield just as the black armoured Dremora's greatsword came swinging down, the vile looking weapon slamming into the polished metal and sending a shuddering pain up Bahrma's arm and to his shoulder.
Bringing his sword up he rammed it straight into a gap in the monster's armour, twisting the golden blade as the Dremora howled in its guttural language and dropped its blade, before its entire body disintegrated into black ash. For a second Bahrma had a breathing space. On both sides his comrades battled against the onrushing Dremora, their formation and shield wall impenetrable to the enemy, their swords stabbing and thrusting into anything that came at them. Behind them rose the towering form of the South Gate, wide enough for five Centurions to walk abreast, and taller than three of them stacked on top of each other.
The Dwemer battle line was drawn up here, at the very base of Red Mountain, the slopes up above filled with automaton Ballistas and archers, flights of arrows and bolts thudding into the seemingly endless ranks of Dremora of all kinds that rushed at the Dwarven lines. The towers that studded the Mountain were filled with armoured Dwemer crossbowmen, and the slopes around them thundered with the feet of Centurions and the skittering roll of Dwarven Sphere Guardians.
But Bahrma knew they couldn't hold this position forever. The Oblivion portals were still open, spilling out legion after legion of armoured Dremora, their harsh and raucous cries echoing across the plains beyond, the screams of the last few House Redoran troops being cut down just audible over the clash of blades and thump of Daedric weapons against Dwemer armour.
Then there was no time to think as another mob of howling Dremora came rushing towards their formation, screaming and shouting in their evil tongue.
"Dagon! Dagon!" one of them, a huge Dremora with towering spiked horns and clad in armour painted in Dunmer and Dwemer blood alike, roared, holding aloft a Dwemer head streaked with blood and gore. Raising his battle-axe aloft and tossing aside the head, the towering Dremora led the charge, locking eyes with Bahrma through the Dwemer's visor and heading straight for him, not paying any heed to the arrows whizzing past him, barely flinching as two Dremora next to him were torn to pieces by a bolt from a Ballista far above.
"The fires of Oblivion take you!" the Dremora bellowed, raising its huge jagged blade, stained with blood and pieces of grey flesh.
Bahrma felt the shield wall around him stiffen and felt a slight smile come to his face. His men had his back. The Daedric forces may have been fearsome, but against the organised battle formations of the Dwemer, they had no chance of breaking them-at least not yet.
As the Dremora rushed forward into the waiting Dwemer warriors, it brought its axe down straight at Bahrma. Raising his shield, he felt the blow pressing down, almost breaking his arm with its ferocity. More Dremora ran at the Dwarven lines and around him his men were locked in their own battles as he shifted his shield, bringing his sword up.
The Dremora staggered back for a second but, as Bahrma thrust his sword forward, it gripped its axe in a firm two handed grasp and, instead of aiming for him, brought the axe blade around and hooked it over the top of the general's shield. For a second Bahrma was dumbfounded at the Dremora's unexpected move. Then he felt himself pulled forward, the shield slipping from his grasp as the Dremora used all of its unnatural strength, ripping the heavy shield from him and, with what looked like an arrogant smirk across its ugly features, casually threw it aside, a gang of charging Dremora trampling it underfoot as they rushed the Dwemer lines to the right.
"Foolish Dwemer." The Dremora said with a guttural laugh. "My master Lord Dagon will enjoy feasting upon the souls of your race soon enough."
Then, surprisingly fast for such a large creature, the Dremora rushed at him, swinging the axe behind its head, ready to cleave the general in two.
Instinctively Bahrma leapt aside, his heavy armour pressing into him painfully as he moved, but all that faded as he saw the heavy black metal axe slam into the ground where he had been seconds ago, the Dremora snarling at him as it moved to pull its weapon free of the baked earth and red sands.
Without a second thought, Bahrma swung his sword and sliced at the long handle of the axe, the advanced Dwarven metal blade cutting the Oblivion forged steel in two ,leaving the Dremora, its black eyes widening, with nothing but a useless metal stick as a weapon.
Smiling at his small victory, Bahrma ran at the Dremora, ramming his blade straight into the creature's chest, the black armour crumpling around the Dwarven metal and the sword punching through the creature's red flesh with a wet smack, black blood exploding out of the Dremora's back as Bahrma pushed the sword in up to the hilt and the tip pushed out the other side, covered in gore and more black ooze.
The general gritted his teeth as he looked up at the Dremora, but the huge warrior barely seemed to noticed the sword through it's chest as it drew back one of its black gauntleted hands and punched Bahrma in the chest, staggering him. He fell back, losing his grip on the sword, which was still lodged in the Dremora as it walked slowly toward him, a grating laugh on its lips. He looked left and right for some kind of aid, but found none. On all sides the battle was raging even fiercer, the Dremora still rushing the Dwemer lines in waves, their armoured boots crunching through the piled up black ash of their comrades, the hail of bolts and arrows from above still falling while the air was filled with battle cries, the clash of swords and distant clanking of automatons thundering into battle.
Straightening up, Bahrma raised his fists. If he was going to die- he was going to go down fighting. The Dremora lurched forward, swinging one mailed fist at him, which he barely dodged before, with a cry, the Dwemer general rushed at his foe, tackling him straight in the chest, wrapping his arms around the monster's waits and bearing it down to the ground.
As the two combatants hit the hard ground with a loud thump and clatter of armour, Bahrma raised his fist, bringing it down on the Dremora's blood red face, knocking its head back and causing a small splatter of black blood to splash onto his golden gauntlets. The Dremora seemed not to care as Bahrma threw blow after blow, contorting the creature's face and pummelling it mercilessly, his fist soon covered in blood and his arms feeling like lead.
With a harsh laugh, the Dremora head-butted him, and Bahrma felt the blow even through his thick helmet, and he stumbled back, the sounds of battle around him disorienting him almost as much as the ringing in his ears.
Then he felt a punch take him in the chest, crumpling his golden breastplate as if it was paper, the Dremora drawing back its fist for another strike, for a second staggering as a stray arrow caught it in the shoulder but, like the sword still sticking out of its chest and the black blood streaming out from the open wound, the monster didn't seem to feel it.
The Dremora paused, its black eyes staring at Bahrma for a second, as the Dwarven general stood ,unarmed and helpless, barely metres away from his men, but completely alone.
Then it charged.
Ducking its huge fist, Bahrma punched it in its side, then, as it staggered momentarily, drove his fist into the Dremora's back. The huge creature of Oblivion laughed again, but stopped as Bahrma brought his left foot, clad in glittering Dwemer plate and golden mail, up and, as the Dremora turned to face him, brought it down on the back of the creature's leg.
The Dremora grunted in pain and tried to get around to grab the Dwemer as Bahrma skirted around to the other side and punched it in the back of the neck, sending the towering creature to its knees.
"The fires of Oblivion take you." Bahrma shouted and drew his dagger from his belt and, pulling back the stunned Dremora's head back by its flowing black hair, slit its throat in one slash, burying his dagger in its neck and kicking it down, the creature gargling on its own blood for a second before falling to the ground, collapsing into a pile of ash. Bahrma retrieved his sword from the monster's remains just as another Dremora, this one hefting a spiked mace and thick black iron shield, came charging towards him.
Breathing heavily, every part of his body dripping with sweat and feeling stiff and weak, the general turned to face the Dremora.
Suddenly the sky was lit up in bursts of a clear bright blue, a stark contrast to the brown and red clouds overhead, and the Dremora paused, turning its head to look behind it.
Then a flight of arrows took the Dremora in the back of the chest, the bronze tipped shafts slamming into the demonic soldier's back and forcing him to the ground before he quickly expired into a pool of ashes. Bahrma looked around disoriented, and saw out of the corner of his eye many of the warriors around him, Dwemer and Dremora alike, looked around dumbly, stopping their fighting momentarily as a blast of war horns and hiss of steam automatons heralded the arrival of a host of cavalry, led by Cuolec the Red himself, stringing another arrow to his towering golden bow as he and his fellows rode down the Dremora where they stood.
And, riding alongside him on a glimmering golden spider automaton, his flowing purple robes and ornate armour lit up in the glow of the communications lexicon in one hand and gripping a glittering golden sword in the other, was Lord Kagrenac himself. The elderly Dwemer let out a loud battle cry as he cut through the Dremora and, behind the cheering forms of the Riders of Dahaka that accompanied him, Bahrma could see rank after rank of Dwemer infantry, all marching forwards, shields locked together, finishing off the few Dremora who had survived the cavalry's devastating charge.
The general removed his helmet and looked into the distance where the Oblivion portals were now being surrounded by lines of armoured Dwemer warriors, and he watched with fascination as groups of purple robed Tonal Architects set up large golden pylons, which, in a flash of blinding blue light, deactivated the portals one by one.
The last of the Dremora were being hacked down by the victorious Dwemer as Bahrma retrieved his weapons, his unit forming up around him in stiff formation as Lord Kagrenac, his blade bloody and with Cuolec and a host of armoured banner bearers atop spider mounts at his side, halted next to the general.
"General Bahrma!" the Chief Tonal Architect called out, reining in his mount as he sheathed his blade. "It appears we arrived exactly when you needed us."
The general frowned. All around them lay piles of ash and dead Dwemer warriors, their golden armour giving them the appearance of toppled statues.
"What took you so long?" he said, not caring that Kagrenac was the proclaimed 'saviour' of their race. He was the same rank as the old Dwemer in technical terms. They both answered directly to the Council of Masters-the body above the Four Councils- and he wasn't going to be thanking him for anything. "I've lost a lot of good men I can't replace because of your Tonal Architects letting Daedra rampage across our new home." He added, his voice low but still filled with menace and anger.
But Lord Kagrenac only smiled, his crooked teeth and distant looking eyes making the gesture look somehow hollow. "Oh but there you are wrong General. The Tonal Bridge is active and I have just brought with me over thirty thousand of our finest troops to reinforce your men. You will also be happy to know that a large amount of essential personnel are also en route through the Bridge. Including your dear wife and children." He added with another forced looking smile.
The general resisted the urge to smile. He was glad his family was here, but that happiness was overshadowed by the fact that he knew Kagrenac had only allowed his family through was because his wife, Inanna, was one of the finest Tonal Architects from the Skyrim city states and the former Master of the Tower of Mzark.
He felt a slight sense of relief as a messenger came clattering up behind them, reining in his spider mount and saying in a polite tone. "General Bahrma! The Council of Warriors requests your presence in the War Quarter immediately."
As he turned to go Bahrma heard Cuolec the Red laughing and turned to see the burly cavalryman remove his helmet to reveal his short black beard, bedecked with glittering rubies, and his large face, which was dominated by the ugly red claw mark scar that ran across the entirety of it and which gave the formidable warrior his name. It had been inflicted by the so-called 'King of Werewolves' Romulus Fenrir himself, during the battles of Hircine's Hunting Grounds. Bahrma ignored him. Cuolec was one of the greatest Dwemer warriors alive, but he had an ego to match. So when the messenger spoke again, Bahrma felt a slight smile cross his battle weary features.
"Commander Cuolec." The man said, himself almost unable to keep a straight face. "The Council has requested your presence as well."
Bahrma laughed for the first time in days as he walked away, the cavalry commander's indignant cries of frustration echoing across the battlefield.