Author's Note: A bit later than my new pace, but ah well. I've quite nothing to say...

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Chapter 6: Dawn Breaking

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"Linne, wake up."

The figure underneath the sheets stirred, and moved, but showed no sign that it would sit up and get ready for a tiring day, quite what Niera would have expected, since this was Linne, after all. She shook her sister's shoulder vigorously, but the only response she got was Linne's groans and a groggy, "I'll wake up later when the sun's up. Gods, Niera, what time is it?"

"It's time for you to wake up. We're leaving Cheydinhal."

Niera's tone was fortunately enough to wake Linne up, making her sit up so suddenly that she nearly hit Niera in the process. "What?"

"I suggest you get ready first, Linne. I'd prefer to go before dawn." Niera turned around and grabbed the pack she already filled with empty vials—just in case she would need to make the poisons on the road—and a small amount of dried fruit. And, of course, the recipe of the said poison from Lachance. Unexpectedly, she sighed. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked Linne when she turned around to her, "I was serious when I said we're leaving before dawn, or would you prefer I leave you here with no payment for the room?"

Linne got down from the bed and put on her boots, wordlessly. It was when she went to the footlocker on the end of the bed that she asked, "Why are we leaving again? Did someone suspect you... or something?"

Niera sighed and dropped the pack on the table in exasperation, "Linne, if I were to be discovered, I would never have reached this inn, would I?"

Her sister shrugged and finished putting on her shirt on top of her nightgown, and Niera wondered if that would be most practical... but if that meant Linne wouldn't have to waste time on the laces on her nightgown, it was best. Until, of course, Linne realised she wore shoes first before putting on her trousers.

"Linne, we're wasting too much time."

"I know, but I won't be long. Besides, what would require us to be so quick anyway?"

Gathering flowers, or rather, herbs, as Niera explained to her on the way. Once they were outside the inn, the only source of light was the torches on the streets, and the two guards stationed in front of the city gate. Linne walked a few distances behind from her sister, and if she wasn't so deep in thought, Niera probably wouldn't tolerate her being so slow.

When they neared the gate, the guards stopped them, refusing to open the gates for them. "What is your business to be out of town this early?"

Niera was gripping the strap on her pack, and Linne could see that even from under Niera's cloak, she was preparing a spell of some sort. It glowed in a bright green and orange light that when she brought her hand up the light was enough to show the guards' uneasy face. "Gentlemen, please, we really do not have time to ask such useless questions, do we?" she asked in a charming tone, and Linne realised what her sister was up to.

"S-sure, 'course, ma'am, why would we do that? To a beautiful woman like you, too! Jeff! Help me open this gate!" the guard on the right said, smiling at Niera so wide that Linne was ready to bet his face would rip off. When the man who was supposedly Jeff kept staring at Niera like an overly admiring suitor, his friend smacked him upside the head, "Oy, you still there?"

"Oh, right! Open the gate, we will. Come on, Troy!"

Linne suppressed the laughter bubbling inside her with a small cough, but Niera turned to her momentarily, and even in that split second she looked judgmental. The guards had opened the gate when Linne said, "Where are we going for these..." They went outside the city, "herbs?"

"Milk thistle seeds... they grow northeast of Cheydinhal. We could mistake them for Bergamot, and identifying them could be easy for someone who mastered alchemy," Niera frowned, "Sadly though I know only enough to tell the difference between a poison and potion."

She took a piece of paper from her pack, and they walked in silence as her sister read it, until finally she said, "Fennel seeds are too far for us to get, that I know, but I'm sure some vendors could provide them for us, yet we have only enough money for you to stay in the inn for a week, no more, and only one person. That'd make... what, seventy septims?"

"Reagents cost more than that, I'm sure," Linne said, stating the obvious. Her sister kept reading the piece of paper, "What's that for?"

Niera recoiled and scowled, "I volunteered to help a friend making a poison for him."

"Why couldn't he do it by himself?" Linne asked, trying to keep her suspicious tone away. It was little use, however, because Niera turned to her and her scowl deepened. Even in the dark, Linne could see the disapproval in her eyes.

"He's very ill at the moment. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Sensing that she would not win an answer from her sister, Linne nodded and looked down at her boots, "What else could be used in the poison?" she asked, changing the topic of conversation. Best not anger her.

"It lists other herbs that could be used for the poison," Niera confirmed, but there was doubt in her voice, "but where in Oblivion could I find Harrada roots?"

"Oblivion."

Niera looked at Linne with complete disbelief, "I beg your pardon?"

Linne sighed, "It's quite a long story, but I suppose I could retell it," she took a deep breath, "A few months ago, was it Heartfire? Maybe a bit after that. There was a man who claimed to be a member of the Knights of the Thorn who went into that Oblivion gate that appeared outside of town. Do you remember that?"

"Hmm... Heartfire? I believe I was on a contract to the Imperial City, to eliminate a prisoner. There was a hellish looking gate I saw on the road. Black, large, and the skies surrounding me turned red and I heard thunder sounds..." she shuddered, "I quickly rushed through the area. Was that it?"

"Yeah, that sounds like it. I was in the inn when a man entered. His armour was battered, but the sigil on his chest—a sword with vines and thorns circling it—was still clear and he boasted on all the things he saw in Oblivion. I think he mentioned a plant that would hit you if you get too close, and he said it was Harrada," Linne explained in one breath. Niera looked astonished.

"That was months ago, and who knows if those gates are still open?"

Linne shook her head, "We've probably get news if those Oblivion gates are opened. Some talk in the inn said that those gates opened because of the Emperor's assassination in Last Seed. They could only close when the Emperor's heir lights the Dragonfires."

"The Emperor has no heir left," Niera said dismissively, closing the subject, "And we would get these Harrada roots."

They were at the stables, and the sun still hadn't peeked through the horizon. Only the guards having their patrol on the walls were awake now, but they were yards away. Niera still did not take chances and touched Linne's shoulder. "Be still."

She obeyed and a funny feeling swept through her body, and a green mist covered the two of them for a while before Linne saw Niera disappear... and so did she. She could only see her faintly visible form walking towards one of the horses inside the fence of the stables—Linne did not quite see her jump over the fence, or the gate of the stables opening. She followed her sister inside the stables and grabbed a white mare's reins and mounted.

It was a few years since Linne rode a horse. The last was when her father and she traveled to a farmstead that belonged to a friend. That was seven years ago or so. And she had her father behind her. Now, however, sitting on a horse was strange to her, even if the mare was saddled. She looked at her sister's shadow and saw that she was carefully, slowly, trying to bring the horse outside. Linne looked to the walls of the city, and saw that the men were nowhere to be seen. "Niera, they can't see us."

"They'll see the horses," her sister whispered, "Wouldn't it be strange if two horses without their riders suddenly gallop outside their stables? I thought so."

"It's dark enough for them not to see," she whispered back, but her comment was barely heard for the horse snorted, "And it was you who suggested we don't dawdle in the first place, am I right?"

Niera sighed audibly and looked around once more, and it was a few seconds before she breathed, "Alright. Be quiet, though. I don't want to take any chances."

Her sister gently kicked the horse's thighs and it began to slowly walk towards the open gate. Niera was still cautious however, and it showed the way she craned her head right and left for any signs of a watchful soul. "It's clear, you could follow now," she looked back at Linne, who was nervous enough about riding a horse, but when she held the horse's reins tighter, she felt a bit more in control and followed Niera, and as dawn approached, they were halfway though the Blue Road.

The sun was just peaking through the Jerall Mountains, casting a glow on the peak which blinded anyone who looked at the bright white snow even if momentarily. Martin strolled through the courtyard of Cloud Ruler Temple, where only a few Blades on patrol were up and running, and he spotted a Breton with cropped brown hair already swinging an Akaviri blade, though he had no partner to spar with. When Martin passed by him, the Blade bowed and murmured a polite, "My lord." No sooner than that, however, he continued to make a riposte thrust against the air, turning his back on the soon to be emperor.

Emperor. The title rang hollow without proof of his true lineage, no matter what Josephus might say to convince him that in fact Martin was truly a Septim. After all this time, the Amulet of Kings slipped from their grasp time after another; perhaps it was fate that he never becomes an emperor, if he ever was.

To make matters worse, he had already sent a letter to High Chancellor Ocato, the head of the Elder Council, requesting an audience with him as soon as the amulet was recovered. He wasted not even a droplet of ink to explain himself; even if it seemed strange that suddenly the High Chancellor—who was currently keeping the provinces together in the absence of a legitimate emperor, if Martin would remind himself once more—would receive a letter insisting that the late Uriel Septim had a bastard. A living bastard, if it made things better.

He stopped and admired the view overlooking the city of Bruma. The Great Oblivion Gate still stood in ruins outside the city walls, a reminder of the battle that ensued not even a fortnight ago. Martin did not want to think about that any further—what should be his main concern were the amulet and its searcher, Josephus.

For all Martin knew, Josephus—as skilled as he was—could be lost in the damned plane, or battling Mankar Camoran at this very moment. He wondered what the chances were if they finally get the amulet at all.

"Sir!" A voice suddenly called out. Martin turned his head around to find the source of the voice, and found Baurus, the Redguard who had sworn to protect Martin with his life. So do the other Blades, he thought for a moment as Baurus neared, but it seems that my father's death hit him the hardest. "Are you certain you do not need to be escorted?"

Martin smiled, trying to comfort the unsure Redguard before him, "I am, Baurus. I will only walk across the courtyard, nowhere else. Surely it is safe enough for you?"

Baurus shrugged, "Well, sire, not that I'm restricting your freedom. It is all for your safety."

"Indeed," Martin assured him, "and you are doing your very best in protecting me. So far, there have been no assassination attempts." He did not know why he said that, knowing that exactly what he said was what Baurus failed in last time. The guilt was evident on his face, and Martin quickly said, "I did not intent for it to mean that—I shouldn't—"

"No, sire, it's fine," Baurus cut off, "it's only that Jauffre would go on a rampage if anything happens to you. At least let me walk with you, as a friend if nothing else."

Martin sighed and smiled once more, even though seeing through Baurus' lie, "Very well. It will be great to walk with a friend, once more." He continued to walk towards one of the watch posts, and he heard Baurus' armour clanking behind him. "I forgot what it feels like to walk freely for once, after being inside the Great Hall transcribing the Mysterium Xarxes for so long."

Baurus did not answer, which made Martin turn around and find that he was looking elsewhere. It's even starting to look as if nobody listens. "I understand you must still feel guilty about my father," he started, and Baurus' head quickly turned towards Martin and nodded ever so slightly, and he continued, "but what happened was the past, and it wasn't your fault that he..."

"I was one of the few Blades tasked with guarding the Emperor's life, sire," Baurus said, firm, "With my comrades dying in the escape route, it should have been clear enough a signal for me to pull back to the Emperor, but I didn't. I fought off the remaining Mythic Dawn, away from the Emperor. I shouldn't have—but you are right of course, sire. It is the past. We shouldn't dwell on it."

"I am glad you think so," he replied, and the conversation died down. From the watch post, Bruma looked even grander, even if he could not see anything too clearly. A few houses already had their furnaces running, and when he looked back he saw the sun was already separated from the mountains. As dawn broke, Martin Septim and his friend only stood there in silence, and only when the cold pierced through Martin's shabby priest robes did he turn to Baurus and said, "I think I have had enough. I shall return into the temple, if you need me."

"Then I shall follow."

The Great Hall was already buzzing with the Blades eating their breakfast, occasionally taking a sip of the mead in front of them. When one of them—Caroline—noticed that Martin entered, she stood up in respect to him, "Sire."

"Please, Caroline, sit down," he said, smiling at her. It was still an odd sensation, having people look your way and bow and respect you. In his days as a priest, the only sign of gratitude he received were words, sometimes promises left forgotten.

Caroline nodded, but kept speaking, "Grandmaster Jauffre summoned you into his room, sire. He says it is another matter to discuss."

Again. "Ah, thank you. I shall meet him immediately. Baurus, do help yourself to breakfast as I head to Jauffre's room."

"Very well, sire," he bowed low and sat down on one of the benches of the Great Hall, and it was barely a minute before he picked up on a conversation with another Blade.

Jauffre's room was only two steps away from Martin's own chamber, the one specifically reserved for an emperor should he need to stay in the temple. When Martin slid the door into Jauffre's chamber he was engrossed in a book, but abruptly closed it as he looked up at Martin. "You asked for me?"

"Yes," Jauffre's answer was short as he put the book down on a desk, which led Martin's eyes to look at the robe folded very neatly just beside a pair of shoes, and the purple silk and golden thread lining was visible enough for Martin to recognise its worth, its value. Jauffre confirmed his suspicions, "This was your father's robes, though not exactly. I've arranged a very skilled tailor to sew this according to the Septim robes. The material is not exactly as rich as your father's as the Oblivion crisis slowed a few merchants, but once this is over, we could arrange you a new one."

Martin looked unbelievably at Jauffre, and then to the robes at the desk and went inside the room to get a closer look, "Are you serious, Jauffre? It is good that you've prepared me a robe, and this one is fine enough. There will be no need in wasting even more septims on clothing."

When he traced his fingers on the material of the robe, he was entranced already, and he picked it up and held it at an arm's length. It was longer than he thought it would be, and he could trip himself in them, but otherwise, it was almost perfect. "May I take it with me into my chambers and try it on?"

"Surely, sire," Jauffre said, handing him over the shoes. The soles were tough boiled leather which was a luxury Martin was not used to every day. The most magnificent he ever felt as an emperor—a future emperor, was when he led those men from all of Cyrodiil's cities into battle, against the daedra that spawned from the Great Oblivion Gate. To finally look as an emperor again...

"Thank you," he blurted out, "I don't know how you acquired such a skillful tailor, but thank you. I shall wear this and remember you, Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades."

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I have nothing to say other than Martin's character is getting tougher and tougher to write each chapter and thank yous:

Boys Do Like Girls: You won't know how much your reassurance relieved me. The whole bad-fight-scene was because of my previous experiences in writing incredibly impossible moves that makes me cringe every time I remember about it. To know that the battle scene was great... huzzah!