Author's Note: Alright. Next chapter, completely in one POV since it's just the nature of the chapter. Reviews are most welcome!

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Chapter 5: The Journey to Carac Agailor

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It did stick true to its name... but Josephus was not a fool to believe that Paradise would be free of daedric creatures roaming about that guarded Mankar's hideout, somewhere in this unknown land.

He closed his eyes from the blurry, bright colours that were in front of him, his nausea worsening by the second. Martin was not joking when he said that Paradise was nothing like an ordinary, hellish Oblivion plane. For a start, Oblivion gates didn't teleport him by swirling in a rapid, circular motion. Or was that all in his head?

All that he knew that thinking of going around in circles, in a speed that would allow you to retch on your on face, was making him sick.

Despite that, he knew time was ticking away, not waiting for him to recover. Trying to bring one foot in front of him, to support him standing up, he remembered why he was here. What his duty was.

Horrible mistake. Just when he tried to bring his whole weight on two feet, kneeling first, his head spun so fast that he had to sit back again, damning time to hell.

A few minutes. That's all I need. Tamriel could wait a few minutes. It would be nothing compared to waiting for days until he arrived back to Cyrodiil. Or, if he was feeling optimistic enough—and if it was possible, hours.

When Josephus finally stopped spinning from the aftermath of rushing into the portal—which he could be kindly reminded, was a result of madness—he squinted his eyes to see Paradise clearly. If there was an end to Paradise, there seemed to be none shown when he looked at the far horizon, the calm, muted orange waving as if nothing extraordinary was happening. He was standing on a loose stone pavement, covering the dirt underneath, and it was so otherworldly that an Oblivion plane could be so peaceful.

And the flowers! They were too beautiful to even be considered a spawn of evil, seeing that Mankar himself seemed to conjure them.

"So, the cat's paw of the Septims arrives at last. You didn't think you could take me unaware, here of all places? In the Paradise that I created?" the man in question's voice boomed from nowhere. Josephus looked around slowly, reminding himself over and over again that there might be enemies nearby. He touched the hilt of his steel sword in one hand, prepared to fight the foes that Mankar sent... if there were any.

For a while, it was eerily silent. The wind blew a breeze which brought the scent of earth; or at least as realistic earth as Mankar could make. The atmosphere that clouded him so suddenly reminded him of home. Not of the Imperial City, the busy streets, but of Chorrol. When he was not trying to steal from the market stalls. When he stopped at the outskirts to breathe in freedom. He imagined freedom to smell like grass, the ocean. Where the only floor beneath him was grass, cold from the early spring.

It was frightening to think that Paradise resembled that so much.

"Look now upon my Paradise," Camoran continued, as if watchful that Josephus was doing exactly so. Perhaps he could see him now. "Gaia Alatar, in the old tongue. A vision of the past... and the future."

He tried to block out more of Camoran's mad rambling as he tried to walk, and when that did not result in a headache, he took to a steady pace, the leather armouring his body silent when he moved. Some words flew by, something about Tamriel reborn. Truthfully, Josephus only wanted to get this over.

With every step he took, he needed to stop, despite what he convinced himself about time wasting by. Paradise was just so magnificent that it was difficult to believe that it truly existed... if only as an Oblivion plane. Ambrosias decorated a patch of meadow in the distance to his left, where also a ruin of an arch made of pure white marble stood proudly, covered in vines and ivy. A shore connecting the land and the never ending sea was a view that greeted him if he looked to his right. A reflection of the sun was enough to snap him back to reality.

Damn you, Josephus, stop standing in awe. Martin is putting the burden of the Empire on you. You mustnot fail!

The road took a turn uphill, and that was when Mankar finally said, as if happy and very much expecting Josephus to survive, "If you are truly the hero of destiny, as I hope, the garden will not hold you for long."

The first daedra—nothing less than a clannfear—took him by surprise when he was examining the road, where he needed to go. Its claws aimed at his stomach, but thankfully his reflexes were fast enough to dodge it. It snarled and charged aimlessly at him, but Josephus already drew his sword and had the edge pointing towards it. The clannfear recoiled in pain and clutched the shoulder that was wounded, and that was chance enough for him to stab its chest.

Taking a deep breath, he knelt and wiped the blood from his sword to the gold-green grass nearby a tree. It still felt strange to fight in such a peaceful looking world.

"How little you understand! You cannot stop Lord Dagon!" Mankar's voice cut the silence like a hot knife through butter. Josephus scowled and ignored his speech entirely, and Camoran sensed this, for his voice grew angrier and louder until Josephus could not even ignore it, "Tamriel is just one more Daedric realm of Oblivion, long since lost to its Prince when he was betrayed by those that served him. Lord Dagon can not invade Tamriel, his birthright! He comes to liberate the Occupied Lands!"

A Xivilai, busy with patrolling what Mankar called the Savage Garden, appeared in the distance, and Josephus cursed quietly. He longed to climb to a tree and throw one of his knives, a specialty he grew to master if you were bored in a lousy day of thieving.

"How is it that Daedra forthrightly proclaim themselves to man, while the gods cower behind statues and faithless words of traitor priests?"

He maintained his crouched position, praying to the Nine that this Xivilai wouldn't notice him. He blended with the trees, watching the daedra through the gap between trunks.

"It is simple. They are not gods at all. The truth has been in front of you since you were born. The Daedra are the true gods of this universe."

In your mad mind, you mean, Josephus thought, keeping in mind that Camoran's words did not affect him in the slightest. His mentality must be preserved. He must be strong willed. The Xivilai continued down the stone road, paying no mind to the trees Josephus was hiding behind, and for that, he was grateful. He went for another fifteen or so feet before emerging from the trees, and the Xivilai was far behind him.

"Why do you think your world has always been contested ground, the arenas of power and immortals? It is Tamriel, the realm of change, brother to madness, sister to deception."

Josephus only made it not one yard before he spotted a human—something he did not expect to find in Paradise. She was wearing smalls on her chest and simple pants to serve as clothing. Her hair was covered in dirt, and it was quite obvious she was tortured over and over, judging from the bruises and cuts on her skin. She didn't even look younger than forty. He looked at her with pity, walking over to her. "Who are you?"

When she looked at him, she widened her eyes in horror and covered herself with bony hands. She must have been expecting someone threatening. "P-p-please, milord, no more! Mercy!"

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said gently, "Who are you?"

She hesitated, but she lowered her arms so that he could see her face, lined with age, "I... I don't remember. I have no identity, only that I am a devout follower of Lord Mehrunes Dagon and Lord Mankar Camoran. My loyalty is with them, and for that Lord Camoran granted me eternal life here in Paradise, to be tested for my very best here. I am eternally grateful for them both."

Josephus could clearly hear the lie from her tone of speaking. "I suppose tested means tortured."

"I... I'm not allowed to speak of it," she said, her eyes welling with tears, and before Josephus could even say anything else, she was running from him, to where he did not know.

"Is this how you would rule, Camoran?" he shouted, throat clenching in anger, a fury that he did not even know he had, "Is this how your god would treat us mortals?" Camoran did not respond. He was silent, and Josephus was sure he did not have an answer to that. "You and your so-called Mehrunes Dagon are cowards hiding behind madness! If you are a true servant of Dagon you would confront me now in the Savage Garden, prove your loyalty to him, and show how you would die for him!"

When he was finished, his voice was hoarse and he did not realise that he himself was close to tears. Was it because the woman's green eyes, her face that looked so sorrowful he wanted so badly to free her? Free the woman from her eternal torture, who resembled his mother greatly? There was, however, nothing he could do to free her. Not even to lessen the pain...

The answer he got was a hoarse, demonic voice of the Xivilai who heard his shout. "Die!" it cried, charging towards Josephus who was not quick enough to draw his sword before the daedra swung its mace at his arm—his sword arm—and he heard his bones crush from the attack. The pain was unbearable and he was near to passing out before he felt a warmth trickling down from his shoulder to his hand. He did not know where it came from—he did not know any healing spells. Proper ones, anyways—but he welcomed the sensation.

When he focused his eyes on the Xivilai, it was turned on the woman he met earlier, and one hit of the Xivilai's mace was enough to kill her. She fell limp to the ground, lifeless, and Josephus' heart tugged painfully. He would not let her distraction go in vain. Josephus drew his sword, and the noise it made turned the Xivilai around.

Its face was scowling and it roared, before he brought the mace down to hit Josephus squarely in the face. His sword managed to block the hit, but only so much that he staggered backwards at the force of it. The Xivilai swung his mace rapidly, as if it was not heavy at all, and it took Josephus' energy quickly just side-stepping the attacks. When finally there was an opening in the Xivilai's side, a result of its clumsy swinging, Josephus drove the attack. Its skin was harder than the thickest leather Josephus knew, but the Xivilai screamed in pain and swung the mace in his direction. Josephus abandoned his sword that was stuck on the Xivilai, and he ran. Ran as fast as he could, until he was too fatigued to continue.

This is it, he thought darkly, catching a breath, I'll die now. At least I'll die knowing I did my best and redeemed myself.

Martin Septim, I failed.

Behind him, he could hear the Xivilai snarling. He waited for the blow; he waited for death to take him. They said your life flashed in front of you when you die. He remembered it all. The panic and unease when he entered the Great Oblivion Gate in Bruma. It was for the greater good. The last word he said to his brother. At least I could sleep easy knowing you did your duty, Lucas. The last time he felt so secure. With the Blades, where I was accepted. The last time he put his whole life in danger for someone. Martin. My friend.

"For Martin Septim!" he cried out, turning around to confront the Xivilai, but he saw only the old woman, alive, fighting the daedra with a sword. His sword, now that he saw the gash on the Xivilai's side. It was the second time she saved him. The second time Josephus owed her to free her, to destroy this false Paradise he was awing over just moments ago.

His battle cry did not distract the two, so engrossed in their fight. Realising he was not doing anything to help the woman Josephus scanned the environment for a weapon, anything that could hurt the Xivilai. There was none in sight, and for that Josephus cursed loudly, before a thought came to his mind. He grabbed a loose rock from the dirt road and went closer to the fight, and threw.

It hit the Xivilai's head, and when the shock of it momentarily stopped the Xivilai from waving his mace, the woman drove the sword deeply into its chest, and when Josephus went closer to her, her expression was vengeful, satisfied, and for a long time she did not pull the sword out. She watched the Xivilai's eyes as its life drained away.

"Thank you," Josephus breathed out when she took the sword out with quite an effort. She let out a sigh and turned to Josephus, and for a second he panicked when she raised the sword to him. Will she be the one to kill me? It surprised him, however, when she turned the sword around to its hilt, handing it to him.

"At long last, the Xivilai is dead. Many more roam this Paradise but for this moment, there is nothing that is endangering me," she said, smiling at him, and when he only stared at her, she glanced at the sword in her hands as if showing the obvious, "I'm pretty sure there are better things for you to do other than staying here. There's nothing else you could do for me, now."

Amazed, Josephus nodded and took the blade, and it felt heavier because of how fatigued he was. He sheathed his sword with difficulty, and when he looked up at the woman, she was already gone. She is more in many ways so much like mother. The difference is... mother would never risk her life for me.

"Camoran," he said, loud enough for only himself to hear, "you are lacking supporters in your so-called Paradise."

However lacking in supporters, however, there were always daedra or dremora that secured the path leading to Camoran's palace, as he mentioned in his mad ramblings, Carac Agailor. It was very unfortunate that Josephus did not even realise the dremora guarding a bridge made of pure white marble similar to that of the gazebo.

"Halt!" the demon rasped, which shocked Josephus more than anything could in the world. Why did he have to pay attention to the setting sun—how was that possible in an Oblivion plane?

"Dibella's breasts, you're a son of a bitch!" Josephus swore in surprise. The Daedra was indifferent about Josephus' rather exaggerated swear, but nonetheless scowled. Well, it looked like it was scowling, since its expression never changed. In fact, perhaps it was holding its laughter. Or… scowling.

"You destroyed the Sigil Tower at Ganonah. My kin say you fought well." The dremora did a small bow of respect, but it did nothing except making Josephus squirm; he never spoke to dremora before, only killed them. And this mention of Ganonah confused him, but he dared not mention it further.

He wished he knew what to say in gratitude for the honour of being praised by a dremora—whose kin was killed by him, and perhaps only him if what the dremora meant by Ganonah was any other Oblivion plane—and made things less awkward and embarrassing, yet did it truly matter? He nodded nervously, hoping it was the right action to take. And when the dremora did nothing, he thought it was only wise to be forthright. "I seek Mankar Camoran," he said, trying hard not to sound afraid. The dremora nodded in approval.

"You speak directly like one of my people almost. I'm glad I did not kill you immediately," the dremora replied in its demonic voice. Damn. It thought about killing me. How can I not be uneasy about this?

Gathering his wits, Josephus stood straighter. It might be better if he killed the dremora first before it could do the deed to him. If this creature was like any other dremora that Josephus faced many, many times before inside those damned Oblivion Gates. "I am going to kill you."

His face paled when he realised what he just said out loud, what was just meant to be inside his mind and not proclaimed to the whole world, so indignantly and intimidating. Where is your courage, Imperial? Show some backbone! He cleared his throat, grabbing the hilt of his sword to further prove his sentence. The dremora's face was, still, like before. Still indifferent.

He still wondered if it was laughing and hiding its amusement well.

"Like all mortals, you talk when you should listen. You will have your chance for battle, if you wish it," it said, eyes still locking with Josephus' green ones. His heart beat faster when the dremora mentioned battle, but why should it surprise him, truly? There will be many other battles before this could be finished. "My name is Kathutet, and I am chosen by Mankar Camoran himself to guard this path."

"I see," Josephus said, "And I need this path, now, do I?" His hand was still gripping the hilt of his blade, his palm hurting from the intensity of his grip, but he did not let go in case the dremora chose to attack him by surprise. He would not do the same mistake he did earlier. Josephus cringed at the very memory of how he evaded his enemy and appeared weak in front of the immortal woman who had endured much worse than him.

"There is one way out of the Garden. I guard that path," it explained, "You will travel that path, and it will bring me honour to defeat you. But you shamed my kin at Ganonah. To bring you into my service... that would also bring me honor." Kathutet paused, raising his hands to show a pair of bracers which had a blood-like liquid trailing down its leathery texture. "These are the Bands of the Chosen. In order to pass the gardens, you must go to the Forbidden Grotto, and it will only open with these bands.

"So I offer you a choice. Would you confront me in battle? Or offer me service?"

Josephus considered his option carefully; there is a very fair chance he could make it out of this fight, but he will not be unscathed for sure. He could choose to do the dremora service, but what if it would take him days until the task he was required to do was complete? He could not risk wasting any more time. He lost so much already.

And... he wanted to atone for his lack of bravery fighting that Xivilai. Camoran must be laughing at that view, if he could see him now. He needs to know I'm a threat to him. I will defeat him. First, I defeat his minion.

Josephus unsheathed the steel sword he had been tightly gripping. The shiny surface of the blade reflected the adrenaline in his eyes, and he grinned one last time before finally saying, "I choose battle."

Kathutet finally made a change in expression; he sneered, which made his already inhumane face more frightening. "Your mind follows the simple path, the choice of an animal. But you have courage, at least," it said, unsheathing its sword. When it waved its blade, a tail of fire whirled around the sword, adorning the blade. "You will fail, mortal, and then where will you be? Dead. And nothing."

"Not if I take the key from your corpse."

Swing.

Josephus made sure to stay quiet after that. No taunts. No battle cries. He only allowed himself to preserve his energy. Kathutet was a mighty thing, and his attacks were quick and deadly, much more than the Xivilai's. Josephus studied his enemy's tactics. Kathutet was driven by a rage and want of redeeming its downfall. Josephus was driven by the fact that he didn't want to seem cowardly.

Which was not so different, now that he thought about it.

Swing.

"You should do something better if you truly want me to fail!" Josephus shouted, an action that he regretted doing for his voice has not truly returned to him yet, after his foolish fights. His breathing was already ragged and he feared that Kathutet would defeat him. With all the energy he could muster, Josephus swung his sword hard, aiming for Kathutet's chest, but it dodged him.

Damn. Quick, small swings, Josephus. He longed for his knives, quick and small. It felt different with a sword. He took a deep breath and thrust his sword with as small effort as he could, and that at least missed the dremora by inches. Oh, Dibella, help me.

Kathutet kicked Josephus' hand, making him loosen his grip on his sword. He grunted and tried to kick back, but Kathutet was quicker, better. One thing after another, Josephus lost his footing and fell to the ground and barely managed to get back up his feet before Kathutet drove his sword to the dirt beside his head. Shit shit shit shit shit.

The momentum of missing the shot made Kathutet weary, and Josephus did not waste that opportunity to close in on the dremora's head, hitting not with his blade but the pommel. The dremora fell down, but did not give up. It thrashed and kicked and its blade always met Josephus, now that he got the hang of Kathutet's fighting rhythm.

"Give up, Kathutet!" he said, when the dremora finally gained its footing. It charged at Josephus, but it was notably slower. "You're slower now!"

"A fine observation," it said casually, but when it turned around on Josephus, he noticed the blood streaming down its face from where Josephus actually succeeded in hitting him. Even I didn't know that. He felt a few of his ribs were broken, but nothing more to stop him for the night, to make a camp in this land he did not trust.

Finally, however, Kathutet ran towards him, and there was no better chance on ending the battle. Posing his sword for the offense, Josephus thrusted his sword into the dremora's stomach when it was an arms reach. With a gargle, the dremora fell backwards, looking at him with those eyes. Blood pooled around its corpse, but it did not stop Josephus from pulling off the bands from its wrists.

"I told you so," he said, putting his sword down beside the pool of blood, but then he spotted the bright orange light from underneath Kathutet's arm. The fire from the flame dimmed when Kathutet's life drained away, but when Josephus grabbed the hilt, it brightened once more. And it was remarkably lighter. "I'll be taking this, then, along with your bands. I'll say hello to your master for you."

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Yeah, I suck at describing battle scenes. This is why I failed miserably the last time. Anyhow, your reviews and opinions are much thanked, especially criticism.

alyssathecreed: Thanks, I'm also working on expanding my vocabulary as you said without completely butchering the thesaurus. I guess that, comparing this with the old version, this one seems better... at least I hope so.