The update took longer than I wanted it to, but I'm not really feeling guilty about it. Tell you why at the bottom. Meet me there?

The fortress was high in the mountains, cold winds cutting through his light armor and chilling his bones. They made it just as the effects of the numerous potions he had taken started to wear off, when the moons had just set but the day hadn't come yet, the sun hidden behind a rocky horizon.

He glanced behind him to where Jauffre and Martin followed, each sporting horses of their own. Traveling overnight was not something that he would be looking forward to anytime soon, and by his companions' expressions, they shared his thoughts.

Jauffre dismounted swiftly, striding past the Breton, who was sure to keep his eyes down. Neither of them had talked after the ambush, not really, and he wasn't planning on doing so anytime soon. People had died because of his mistakes, and the world could very well end for the same reason.

The robed man brought his hand to knock on the thick stone doors, a sequence quick and obviously practiced. The Breton spared a look to Martin as he, too, dismounted, being meet with a warm smile that didn't reach his eyes.

The doors opened slowly after a small moment, creaking gently into the early stages of dawn. A man dressed in Blades armor was behind them, helmet hiding his face. He approached Jauffre quickly, voice deep.

"Grandmaster, is this-" He didn't get the sentence out as Jauffre interrupted, voice and demeanor tense.

"Yes, Cyrus," he said, impatience filtering in his tone. "This is Martin Septim."

Cyrus walked forward as the Breton backed up, feeling out of place. "Milord," the Blade addressed Martin, who didn't look too happy about it. "I welcome you to Cloud Ruler Temple. We have not had the honor of an Emperor's visit in many years," he admitted, looking at the priest for a reply.

"Oh, well, thank you," he said, words uncertain. "The honor is mine."

"Come," Jauffre spoke, starting to walk past Cyrus. "Your Blades are waiting to meet you."

Cyrus nodded, waiting for Martin. The Breton stayed where he was, unsure of what he was supposed to do- it wasn't like they needed him anymore, right? He had already screwed the world enough.

Uriel's son turned to him then, coming over and pulling on his arm, unnecessarily tugging him along. He shot the priest a look, eyebrows raised as the doors were closed at their backs, only receiving a shrug in response.

"Why are you doing this?" He whispered as they climbed the large set of stairs, sun stretching higher to reach the clouds. Martin again didn't answer so he didn't press, letting himself fall behind as they reached the top.

The Blades had lined up in two paths, creating a walkway for Martin to go through. The Breton stopped stubbornly, letting the others continue, and even considered helping Cyrus stable the horses. Jauffre's words distracted him before he could, however, causing him to focus on the man.

"Fellow Blades," he started, giving the few that had gathered a hard look each. "Dark times are upon us. The Emperor and his sons were slain on our watch." He let that sink in, pausing briefly. "The Empire is in chaos," he continued. "But there is yet hope. Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim."

The Breton brought his hands to his ears as the guards raised their katanas to the air simultaneously, calling out praise. It only leaves the air quiet when they stop, tense silence making the atmosphere uneasy.

"Your Highness," Jauffre says to Martin, voice soft, but even as far as he is he can still here it. "The Blades are under your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne."

He can't see the emotions in Martin's features from the distance, but he can hear them in his voice. "Jauffre," he gets out, hesitantly. "Blades. I understand that you all expect me to be Emperor. I'll do my best," he promises. "But this is all new to me. I'm not used to giving speeches, but... I wanted you to know, that I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove my self worthy of your loyalty in the coming days." He falters, all of them hanging on to his every word. "That's it. Thank you."

The Breton almost feels sorry for the priest, hoping the sympathy in his expression travels over to Martin, but doubting that it does. "Well, then," Jauffre says for them, reassuring. "Thank you, Martin." In a louder voice, he calls out to one of the Blades. "We'd all best get back to our duties, eh, Captain?"

They disperse after that, most taking up posts while a few head back inside, all giving Martin a nod or greeting. The snow starts to fall, then, sparse flakes getting lost in his hair, and he's surprised when Martin comes over and speaks to him.

"Not much of a speech, was it?" He questions, embarrassed. "They didn't seem to mind, though, I suppose."

"You did good," he replies, making as much sincerity as he can seep into the answer. "Really, I liked it."

The smile he receives is worth the trouble. "The Blades hailing me and saluting me as Martin Septim..." He trails off, in wonder. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful," he adds hastily, even though he doesn't. "I knew I would be dead by now if it weren't for you. Thank you."

He shakes his head then, blocking off whatever else Martin was going to say. "Please, don't thank me," he pleads, hating the praise. "I messed up, Martin."

"Everyone makes mistakes," he insists, and an abstract piece of snow gets disappears in his mop of hair, blue irises glimmering.

"Not ones as big as this," he says back, glumly. Martin puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, even though it should be the other way around, and he doesn't know what to make of it.

"We'll figure it out," the priest says, except he isn't much of a priest anymore, and the Breton can't bring himself to care. "Maybe Jauffre will know where to start," Martin suggests, and he reluctantly nods. The Imperial smiles at him again, removing the hand, and bidding him a quick farewell before heading inside.

He stands there, Jauffre his only company, and lets the Grandmaster approach him. He's the one to speak first, however, not wanting to go just yet.

"The Amulet of Kings," he starts, giving the ground beneath his iron boots full attention. "Do you know where they could have taken it?"

"Baurus has been researching anything he can about the assassins. He's bound to know where they could have taken it, or how we can find out." The Breton nods, playing with his fingers, and is about to turn away when Jauffre continues. "You should meet him there. He's in the Imperial City."

His head snaps up to meet Jauffre's eyes, which are dark and brown and tell nothing. His response comes in stutters. "You mean-?"

"Well, after you've had some rest first," he compensates. "You are welcome to use the barracks in the West Wing. And I'll have a Blade bring to you something better suited for combat." He glances at the rusty knife at his hip and the daedric greatsword on his back, but the Breton is still a few sentences behind.

"You will still let me help," he says, trying the words on his tongue, letting them lift off into the air. He doesn't know what he feels, deciding on relief.

"I still mean what I told you earlier, when we first met." He waits for the Breton to remember, clarifying briefly. "The Emperor choose you for the job. I will not disrespect his wishes, especially when all is not lost. I trust that you will be more than adequate to assist Baurus in his mission."

The Breton tries to agree, even though he can't force himself to believe it, but nods either way. Jauffre seems satisfied with the response. "I'll tell you what inn Baurus is staying at in the morning," the Grandmaster informs him, stepping away, even though it already is morning. "Get some sleep," he calls out before retreating back inside, just as the snow begins to fall some more and he thinks he might die of happiness.

The Imperial City was just as beautiful as it had been before, majestic trees shading him from the ferocious sun above, perfect paved roads glimmering under his feet. Last time he was here, all he received were dirty looks. Now that he was clean and fed, he could appreciate the welcoming smiles thrown in his direction, traveling through the big oak doors and tall stone towers.

He strolled in between districts, getting directions from one of the guards. Polished statues stood proudly in the city and silk red banners hanging from homes swayed in the gentle breeze, the journey to Luther Broad's peaceful and worth every second.

It wasn't too hard to recognize Baurus sitting at the bar, only one other customer in the room, but it was still surprising to see the Redguard without his armor. He hesitantly walked over, feeling strange in the new pair of clothes he had received before leaving the temple, and tapped the man on his shoulder.

If he recognized the Breton he didn't show it, raising an eyebrow. It was only when the bartender turned away and the person in the corner focused on his drink that he spoke.

"Sit down," he whispered, words emitting from the corner of his mouth. "Don't say anything. Just do what I say."

The Breton nodded discreetly, taking the seat next to him at the bar. He figured he should probably buy a drink but he didn't exactly have any money, so he just sat and stared glumly at the countertop while the bartender scowled at him from the other end of the room.

"Listen," Baurus eventually said, and he did. "I'm going to get up in a minute and walk out of here. That guy in the corner behind me will follow me. You follow him."

He nodded again, even though the other wasn't facing in his direction. "I'm ready when you are."

"Good." Baurus sounded impressed, like he was expecting some sort of objection. "Remember, wait for him to follow me. I want to see what he'll do." He rose from the chair, heading towards the side door and into what he presumed to be the basement. And, sure enough, the man stood up and followed.

The Breton peeked at the bartender before going to the side, seeing the man preoccupied with some customers. He opened the basement door as quietly as he could, closing it in the same manner, and peeking past the corner to where Baurus' stalker was.

He stopped at the base of the stairs, holding up a hand, and the Breton watched in wonder as the hilt of a steel longsword shimmered into existence between his fingers. Armor came along with the gust of Magicka, black with threads of red, when Baurus appeared in his line of vision with his katana.

They sparred for a short moment until the Breton came back to his senses, crouching low behind the assassin and unsheathing a shiny new elven dagger. He remembered when one of the female Blades had given it to him with kind eyes and soft words, just as he dug the sharp blade into the enemy's back.

The man crumbled, conjured armor fading away, and Baurus' voice was the first thing to greet him.

"Search his body," he ordered, going into the hall. "I'll go and check to see if any of his friends are nearby." The Redguard went back to the inn floor, door closing shut. He shrugged to himself, kneeling on the ground and reluctantly searching the deceased man's body.

He found some gold but couldn't bring himself to take it, instead going for the large book concealed in his coat. Its cover was velvet with fancy golden script, but the most he could read was town names at the moment so he didn't bother. Baurus came back only after a few seconds, this time wearing the first smile he had seen all day.

"Good work," he congratulated, spotting the book in his hands. "I am glad to see you, by the way. You just caught me at a bad time."

He'll say. The Breton didn't really know what to feel about cornering some guy in a basement and backstabbing him, but he figured he'd get over it. Especially since it was an assassin he had killed, not a defenseless civilian.

Yeah, he would get over it. "What have you learned?" He questioned, accepting the Blade's hand. He sheathed his dagger as soon as he was standing, deciding to deal with the blood later.

"The assassins that killed the Emperor were part of a daedric cult known as the Mythic Dawn," he said, but the Breton kind of figured that much as far as the "daedric" part went. It was strange, how he couldn't read anymore than a words, and yet could recognize a daedric sword when he came across it. Maybe it was because of his short time in Oblivion.

Okay, he didn't need to think about that anymore. "Apparently, they worship the Daedra Lord, Mehrunes Dagon." He waited, the name ringing a bell in the back of his mind, though he couldn't figure out why. "I've been tracking their agents in the Imperial City," the Redguard continued. "I guess they've noticed."

Now it was his turn. "The enemy has the Amulet," he blurted out.

"What?" The effect was immediate, and he winced. "They took it from Jauffre?"

He sighed. "Not exactly." He didn't elaborate on it, though, and Baurus didn't force him to, so he continued. "On the bright side, I also found Uriel's heir. His name is Martin Septim."

The frown turned into a beaming grin, the joy almost infectious. "Thank Talos he lives!" Baurus exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loud, but he didn't have the heart to mention it. "Martin Septim, you say?" The Breton made a noise of confirmation in his throat, but he didn't think Baurus was really paying attention. "We will restore him to the throne! It is the sworn duty to all the Blades, and with him, there is still hope."

He agreed, not really understanding how that worked, but it didn't seem like the best moment to ask. "What's our next move?"

"There's a scholar at the Arcane University," Baurus explained, meeting his eye. "Tar-Meena's her name. Supposed to be an expert on daedric cults." He gestured to the book in his hands, thinking. "Why don't you take that book to her, see what she makes of it. I'll keep running down leads at the Mythic Dawn network."

"Sure," he smiled, and Baurus grinned back.

"If you learn anything, you can find me at Luther Broad's. May Talos guide you." He didn't know who Talos was but he shot the same farewell back, letting Baurus lead them back out the basement.

He eventually found her in the Arcane University, sitting down at one of the two benches in the room with a large book in her hands. He approached her quietly, tapping her on the shoulder, and she gestured for him to take a seat beside her.

"Ah," she said, voice gravely but kind. "You must be the one I got the message about. How can I help you?"

"Um," he said, holding the velvet book to his chest. "What do you know about the Mythic Dawn?"

She seemed shocked, eyes widening. "You know of them?" She asked, not waiting for an answer. "They are one of the most secretive of all the daedric cults. Not much is known about them." He let her talk, relaxing in his seat just slightly. "They follow the teachings of Mankar Camoran, whom they call the Master. A shadowy figure in his own right."

Her red irises landed on the book in his hands, seemingly just noticing it. "Ah, yes. 'Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes'. Wonderful! You have a scholarly interest in daedric cults, then?"

He sent her an apologetic smile. "Actually, I need to find the Mythic Dawn," he admitted.

She frowned slightly, but otherwise masked her disappointment. "Find them, eh?" She sighed, multicolored scales shining brilliantly under the dim lights of the room. "I won't poke my nose any further, official business and all that. I'm used to working with the Blades, don't worry. Say no more."

He looked at her to continue, and she did. "In any case, finding them won't be easy. I've studied Mankar Camoran's writings a bit myself, at least those I could find. It is clear from the text that Mankar Camoran's texts come in four volumes, but I've only ever seen the first two books. I believe that his writings contain hidden clues to the location of the Mythic Dawn's secret shrine to Mehrunes Dagon."

Tar-Meena turned her head to the side, and the yellow spikes embedded along her temples sparkled beautifully. "Those who unlock this hidden path have proven themselves worthy to join the ranks of the Mythic Dawn cult. Finding the shrine is the first test. If you want to find them, you'll need all four volumes of the Commentaries."

"Where can I find these books?"

"Here," she said, handing him the book she had been reading previously. "You can have the library's copy of the second volume." He took it, letting it rest in his lap. "As I've said, I've never seen the third or fourth volumes." She did, however, write down the name of a bookstore in the Market district, handing him the slip of paper, and he took it without thinking.

"Thanks," he told the Argonian, standing up. She grinned at him, inhuman teeth showing.

"It was so nice chatting with you," she told him, making her way over to one of the bookshelves. "Be sure to let me know how your hunt for the Mythic Dawn turns out."

He smiled at her back, holding the now two books to his chest, and started heading back to Luther Broad's to see if Baurus would pay for a room tonight.

Expect an update in the next two days, though if it's not tomorrow, then the chapter is probably longer than I want it to be (again). Oh, and as always, more info on my Bio. I would thank you for reading, but that just seems kind of stupid, though I will thank you for leaving a review on your way out.

Meh. I tried.