Epilogue

Twenty seven years. Twenty seven years of financial prosperity. The Coalition of Vardenfell Smiths was a rival to even the East Empire Company's holding in Morrowind. Twenty seven years of being on the right side of the law. The only things stolen recently were from the rich and corrupt, and those were promptly given back to the rightful owners. But most of all, it was twenty seven years of pure happiness. Arken and Merrenda had lived happily for over a quarter century in a life of perfect bliss. Of course, there were the rough spots and occasional arguments, but it was nothing they didn't work out and nothing that didn't make their love for one another all the stronger. It was twenty seven years of heaven.

Arken came down the stairs of their home, looking over several business reports. On the way by the kitchen, he looked at his lovely wife, Merrenda. She noticed him looking and smiled beautifully in return. It was the beginning of another wonderful day in a wonderful life.

Arken turned with a start when he heard the front door break in. Several soldiers kicked in the splintered wood and stormed into the house. Arken frowned and backed up by a step. His sword was upstairs in his closet and these soldiers wore the darkened steel of the Imperial Legion, meaning they were not to be trifled with. They surrounded Arken, his back to a wall, and drew their swords in near unison.

The Legion captain stepped forward and pointed his sword at Arken, "Arken Dralkes, by power of Imperial law, you are under arrest of grand thievery."

Arken stood silent for a moment before blurring into action. He stepped to his right, jamming his elbow into the throat of the soldier standing there. He grabbed the stunned soldier's wrist and jerked his arm forward, pulling him into another elbow to the ribs. The soldier coughed as he dropped his sword and Arken released him to catch the weapon as it fell. He twirled it into a proper fighting position and stood to his stance.

The Legion captain raised his shield to guard himself, "You are under arrest, Dralkes. Make this easy for everyone and surrender."

Arken shook his head slowly, "I've been a free man for nearly forty years, and I'm not giving that up without a fight."

"I'll warn you one more time, Dralkes. Surrender or we will be forced to put you down."

Arken's frown deepened, "Try if you like, but I'm not going to lay down and die just because you say so."

"So be it. You've forced my hand." He looked around at his men, "Take him down."

Merrenda watched in horror as the Legion soldiers advanced on her cornered husband. The first soldier came in with a high strike. Arken blocked the strike and slid underneath, grabbing the soldier's shield and smashing it into his face twice. The soldier staggered back and fell to the floor, too dazed to fight for now. Another soldier advanced and swung his round shield in a shield-crush move, trying to take advantage of the spike in the middle. Arken dodged aside from the strike and rotated around the soldier as he clumsily charged forward. He then grabbed the neck of his cuirass, stopping him cold and yanking his feet out from under him. Arken brought the pommel of his sword down on the guard's forehead, putting him out for a while. He was using non-lethal defensive moves, trying not to add "assault of Imperial soldiers" to the rap sheet. The soldiers continued to attack for several long minutes, continually unsuccessful against the highly skilled Dunmer.

The long and tense moment finally came to an abrupt end. One soldier came at Arken with his weapon held high to the side, attacking side arm. Arken did the only thing he could at the time. He dropped to one knee under the blade as it passed over his head, and swept his blade across the soldier's gut just beneath his cuirass. It was an instinctual move, one that happened on its own in response to a threat, and an effective one at that. The soldier dropped his sword and doubled over, falling to the floor in a heap with blood seeping from the body.

The Legion captain stepped back and looked at his men, "Bows, now!" His soldier's responded by sheathing their swords and taking several paces back away from Arken as they drew their bows and pulled back an arrow each.

The captain pointed his sword at Arken again, "You killed one of my men, you scum. But in spite of that, I'm giving you one final ultimatum. Surrender or we will not hesitate to kill you."

Arken scowled at him defiantly, "Than I'll die a free man."

"No!!!" Arken turned his head to look when he heard Merrenda cry out. The next few seconds seemed to go by in slow motion. Merrenda ran toward Arken, throwing her arms around him and putting herself between the soldiers and her husband. Arken tried to turn around to shield her before he saw her head lurch back and felt a sharp pain in his abs. He pulled Merrenda away from him to see that he'd been hit by one of the soldier's arrows, but that wasn't what horrified him. The arrow had hit him through Merrenda's body. The arrow was sticking in her lower back and piercing through her belly. Her blood slowly stained the red satin dress she wore.

Horror spread across Arken's face as he dropped to one knee, cradling his wife in his arms, her blood staining his shirt, "What…Merrenda…No…"

Merrenda coughed lightly, speaking through shallow breaths, "No matter what anyone says, love…You're always a hero to me." She reached up to weakly caress Arken's cheek with her fingertips, "Live free, my beloved." With her last breath drawn, Merrenda's eyes closed, and her head fell forward.

Tears flowed unbidden as Arken held her close, pressing his forehead to hers, his teeth clenched in a mix of fear, sadness, and rage. After nearly thirty years with the woman he loved, his time with her had come to an end. Arken wept over her, wishing that it had been him, knowing that it should have been him.

In the mix of emotions running through his mind, the rage won out in the end. Arken looked up from his wife, his eyes burning with a fury to pale the fires of Oblivion. He sat there fuming, glaring at the men who'd killed his wife. She was gone, and it was their fault. In a flurry of motion, Arken snatched up the sword next to him and charged to closest one. He bludgeoned the bow out of his hand and ran the blade across the soldier's gut. Without pause, he moved on to the next soldier before he could react, swinging with a powerful strike that cut halfway through the soldier's neck, killing him instantly. The next soldier dropped his bow and drew his sword, but it did no good against the infuriated Dunmer. Arken nimbly ducked under the soldier's blade, rotated around him, and wrapped his free arm around the soldier's head before twisting harshly. The soldier's neck snapped with a loud crack and he fell to the floor. And so the slaughter went on, until no fewer than seven Legion soldiers lay dead on the floor. Arken moved to attack the next soldier, but was stopped when he was hit at the base of the neck from behind. He fell to one knee as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He tried to stand when he was hit again, harder this time, and the darkness claimed him.

The Legion captain sheathed his sword as he stood over the unconscious Dunmer. He looked at one of his men and pointed to Arken, "Get him to the fort. The magistrate will pass judgment there."

There was no trial. Arken stood before a court of a single magistrate and was pronounced guilty before he could even open his mouth in defense. Much to Arken's surprise, his friend Fynix was standing trial right beside him, charged as an accessory to Arken's crimes. Throughout the farce of a trial, Arken continued to wonder. How could they have known? His former life as a thief was a secret so closely guarded that his own wife would never have known had he not told her. The only way the Legion could have learned this was if one of his former contacts had sold him out. Arken and Fynix were both sentenced to long prison terms, Fynix for forty years and Arken for eighty. They were then thrown on a ship bound for the mainland, saying that prisoners like these should be held in the Imperial Prison itself, a prison from which no one has escaped in over forty years. Arken struggled the whole way, needing no fewer than four men to do something as simple as move him from the ship to the wagon. His wife was gone, the only woman he loved was gone, and he blamed the soldiers of the Legion for her death.

Arken sat brooding in the bouncy wagon as they entered the Imperial Province. Twenty seven years with the woman he loved, gone. Thirty eight years of building a life and a fortune from nothing, gone. All his money had been taken as "compensation fines", and the Coalition had been given to some fool who knew less about running a business than a rat's backside. All of it gone. Nearly forty years of building up his fortune and himself, nearly forty years as a free man, all gone in one fatal moment. Arken looked out the barred window of the wagon at the green grasses and tall trees they passed. He had a bright future; a future with hope and happiness. Now, it was back to the beginning; just a nobody thief with no future.

Arken and Fynix had faced the worst together, as friends, and come through it in spite of all. Arken had built a fortune from nothing once before, and odds are that he could do it again. Can Arken and Fynix get out of this and start new lives? Could the workings of Fate be undone? Or had the Seeds of Fate been sown for a greater purpose? That is a tale to be told another time.

"…When the next Elder Scroll is written, you shall be its scribe." - Martin Septim.