For Those Who Came In Late:

Season's greetings on you all... suckers. I'm having a little fun. It isn't canon. Say hello to Zul gro-Radagash, Champion of Cyrodiil, Hero of Kvatch, the new Count of Bravil, wife of Sir Mazoga, Master of the Fighters' Guild, and Grand Champion of the Arena.

Anyway:

The crowds had thickened as they approached the Temple of the One, but the presence of Harry's foster father and the Count and Countess of Bravil seemed to clear the way.

Once the Temple had been shining white marble, but now it was noticeably discoloured at ground level. Years of votive candles and offerings by pilgrims had stained the very stone, despite the priests' best efforts to stay ahead of the almost constant avalanche.

"Why'd they put the statue inside this place if it's too big?" Ron asked understandably, "Couldn't they have used an expansion charm or something?"

Behind him Harry groaned theatrically, and both Ra'jirra and Zul stared incredulously at him. "New village idiot?" the big Orisimer asked.

"Ron," Harry said in exasperation, "That statue is Emperor Martin. Weren't you listening? After he sacrificed himself to become the avatar of Akatosh, and Akatosh defeated Dagon, he turned to stone, right on that spot!"

"Damn right," Zul nodded. "Poor sod. Brave though. Found out who he was, accepted it, did what he had to do." The big warrior's expression remained grave. "He would've been a good 'un."

Harry just nodded thoughtfully at that. While Dad didn't like Zul gro-Radagash, the taciturn Orc often seemed to see things mortal men didn't. After all, he was pretty much in the same boat as Emperor Martin was.

But hopefully without all the sacrificing himself bit.

"Didn't do it alone, of course," Zul added, jolting him out of his funk. "Had me, Baurus, the Legion. Fighters' Guild too. And the mages," he added, jerking his head at Ra'jirra.

Ra'jirra didn't respond. He was busy navigating a route that his charges and the Lord and Lady Bravil could take through the crowd of hawkers, gawkers, hysterics and pilgrims. Several times some people would recognise the Orisimer couple, but backed off quickly when Zul glowered at them.

"Almost there," Ra'jirra called over his shoulder, "there's Talos Plaza gate."

"Good," Hermione muttered, "I want out of here."

Draco silently agreed. He'd been excited to visit a world entirely populated by wizards, but what he'd seen so far hadn't been what he expected. Nobody seemed to be shrinking their packages down, few wore robes he recognised, and the general fragrance of the city streets – he held his breath as their little procession passed an especially aromatic alleyway.

And then there were the nonhumans. It was bad enough to learn that Harry's 'father' was one on Halloween, but they were everywhere here! Elves, lizard people, these great green troll-like men...

"What the hells?" Ra'jirra's groan jolted him out of his fugue.

In front of their little party, two carts were blocking part of the main street, while a curious crowd blocked the rest of it, despite the guards' best attempts to keep traffic moving. The operators of the carts were discussing road rules and each other's intellect, proclivities and lineage in a most physical fashion, although the metallic approach of several more guardsmen suggested a looming ceasefire.

"Bugger this," the Arch-Mage shook his head, "We'll go 'round the outside."

Hermione looked around and then frowned. "Arch-Mage?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are these walls less damaged than the ones in, um, the Temple District?" She'd noticed quite early that many of the buildings around the Temple of the One showed signs of damage, missing chunks of marble replaced with mortar and stone. The whole place in fact had looked quite mottled in places.

"That was where most of the fighting was located," Ra'jirra replied, "But gates opened everywhere. They say one opened up in the Markets right outside Jensine's shop, and daedra poured right through her door." He shook his head. "Poor woman never stood a chance."

Subsequently:

Draco looked at the horse with trepidation. Uriel looked at him with resignation, knowing a novice rider when he saw one.

Neville gaped at his mount with abject terror. The roan mare tossed her head and blew derisively, not helping at all.

"Wouldn't we be better off riding our brooms?" was Ron's understandable query.

Hermione just huffed. "Ron, do you really think that Harry's father would pick out dangerous horses for us?" With all the confidence that young girls of a certain upbringing seem to have around equines, she grasped the reins of the Leyawiin white she'd been provided, led him to the fence, and used that to get into the saddle. A stablehand immediately came and adjusted the stirrups for her feet.

"I didn't know you rode," Harry said admiringly. He was already mounted on Martin and was walking him around, trying to work off the bay yearling's energy.

Draco's lips tightened. There was no way that he was going to be shown up here! Drawing all the pride of the Malfoys about him, he straightened his back and approached Uriel. Placing both hands on top of the saddle, he lifted his foot to the stirrup, kicked off with the other, slipped out of said stirrup and fell to the ground. Uriel just blew in disgust and sidled away.

"Try using the fence," Ra'jirra said from atop his own white. Needless to say the old Khajiit looked quite at home riding a horse. "Or get someone to help you up."

The blonde boy didn't reply, as he was busy using scourgify on himself. "I'll be fine," he declared, approaching Uriel again. The gelding just sighed and braced himself for the inevitable. "Just need to make sure that..."

This time Draco's foot stayed in the stirrup, and he managed, to Uriel's surprise,to get into the saddle with only a little scrabbling. He straightened up, quite pleased with himself.

"Better than me," Zul rumbled as he rode Menien out of the stable. The muscular chestnut's white blaze matched the feathers on his sturdy legs. There was Skyrim blood in him, mixed with the fiery stuff that flowed in Cheydinhal blacks, but his coat was pure Chorrol.

The children blinked. Zul had changed into an impressive suit of armour, with an equally impressive battleaxe slung over his back. They would do the same when his wife emerged, resplendent in her steel and surcoat bearing the stag.

"Fell off a dozen times, first day," he added, moving over to where Neville stood petrified before the mare. He looked thoughtfully at the boy, then grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, lifted him up in one hand and dropped him into Renault's saddle.

Neville was too shocked and surprised, and Zul was trying to get him to sit properly, for them to notice the mare rolling her eyes disgustedly. No doubt she'd have to carry this lump the whole damn way.

Ron set his jaw and looked at his own mount, a bay mare, and went confidently to grasp her saddle. He got his foot in the stirrup first time, and hauled himself up and into position with only one slight problem.

Not finding those 'rain' things, he blinked stupidly at Clover's tail, which swished back at him.

Some humiliation and one successful mounting later:

"Right then," Ra'jirra informed everyone about an hour later, "To be on the safe side we'll take the high road to Fort Virtue – I dunno why but bandits keep turning up in Fanacasecul – have lunch, then get on to Pell's Gate by dusk, hopefully."

"We'll take care of any trouble," Zul added. "Stay with us. Do as you're told. Got it?"

"Harry, that means you," Ra'jirra gave a mock-glare at his son, "no showing off."

He looked around, then turned his horse and set off. The five children, Zul and Mazoga followed.

Hermione, Draco, Neville and even Ron looked about with interest. From this vantage point, they could already see the central tower of the Imperial City rising like a massive axle from a wheel. Northward, a crumbling stone pile could be seen through the trees, while whitish spires poked up in the south. As they climbed further into the hills and began the sidle toward Fort Virtue and the beginning of the Gold Road, the white spires showed themselves to be the remnants of old walls, bracketing a statue sinking into the water.

"Fanacasecul," Ra'jirra explained to them, pointing at it. "The northwest corner there has a door into the catacombs below, but they're full of undead. And up top..." He squinted. "Yup. Bandits. Perfect place to hide and prepare an ambush. That's why we're up here."

"They wouldn't attack us surely!" Hermione's exclamation caused Harry to roll his eyes and the other boys to flinch. "I mean, you're the Arch-Mage, and they're, um..."

"We aren't exactly sending heralds ahead, girl," the old Khajiit wasn't amused. "All they'll see is a potential target. Three adults and five kids. I make four of the buggers at least and one's probably a hedge witch, so I'm not taking chances with you being killed or flogged off as slaves."

"What sort of building was that?" Draco asked. "It doesn't seem to match the city, or that village we passed through."

"Ayleid," Zul said from behind them. "Bad bastards. Slavers. Torturers. Same as up there. Their capital. Ours now."

"Apparently it was a port," Harry added.

The children cast looks at the old ruins as they began to descend through trees towards another dull, squat stub of a long-fallen tower. "Fort Virtue," Ra'jirra identified it, then looked sternly at Harry. "No entry. We hop up the top there, eat our lunch in the sun, then – hey Zul, you and Mazoga want to lead?"

"Probably a good idea," Mazoga grinned, "plenty of opportunity for mischief." Her face grew serious. "Do you want to hug the water and avoid Vindasel?"

"Yeah," her husband grunted as he dismounted, "conjurers suck."

Someone had placed several loose stones to make a step up to the platform above the ancient doors. Draco noted with amusement that Hermione was walking a little stiffly as well.

"I thought you'd ridden before," he did very well at not openly smirking.

"Not for so long at a time," Hermione's tone was a little snippy.

Ra'jirra hadn't been lying about the view either. You could see the Imperial City and clear down to the Talos Bridge, which officially marked the southern end of Lake Rumare.

Lunch consisted of apples and a selection of cold cuts on bread. Ron began to gobble as he usually did but stopped abruptly when Zul cuffed him on the back of the head.

"Manners," the big Orisimer and his wife were both looking at him disgustedly, "Food can't run."

Ron gaped, forgetting about the mouthful he was in the middle of eating, and ignorant of the triumphant looks Hermione, Draco and Harry were sharing. "And let the twins prank me? No way!"

Silence fell, broken by Ra'jirra. "Your brothers play jokes at the dinner table?"

"Yeah," Ron had the decency to swallow, although he looked a bit pained as the mouthful was slightly larger than a gulletful. "They're always coming up with pranks, and if you're not careful they'll slip some into your food, or your clothes, or somewhere in your room – just to see what it does! One time I spent the entire day being pursued by randy gnomes, and another time my tongue swelled up six foot long. And it's always me! Ginny's too good with hexes to even risk it."

"Who's Ginny?"

"His little sister," Harry clarified, "she starts Hogwarts next year."

"Well the twits aren't here, so you can slow down and actually taste your food."

"You mean twins."

"I know what I said, young man."

Ron blinked at this, then spent the rest of the lunch trying to forget years of training at the hands of his brothers. While he did this, the adults described what could be seen.

"That bit of wall down there's where the Harbour District is – I think the Ayleids used it as a navy dock or something. There's a tunnel that runs up to the Temple District from it. Used to have a shack there before I landed better digs. Inland – see that bit of stone? Shrine to Clavicus Vile – one of the daedra princes. I stay away from them myself."

"I couldn't," Zul chipped in, "His Majesty's orders."

Ra'jirra's ears went back slightly, then he resumed. "We're heading south. See that blocky white building? Entrance to Vindasel. Historians say it was used to punish slaves. Now it's a magnet for every rogue conjurer – all those souls who suffered and died there. It's close to the road so we'll probably hig the coastline – mind the mudcrabs."

He pointed down below the fort, where a crab the size of a labrador was scuttling out of the water towards a clump of grasses.

"Once past, Zul and Mazoga will take point and get us over the Old Bridge. Not so much trolls but bandits tend to set up camp there when they're not faffing around in Fort Homestead – you can see it on the water's edge there," he jabbed a finger south towards another crumbling tower. "After that though it's clear riding to Pell's Gate, then we start climbing up the Green Road to Faregyl. So you ride when I say ride, stop when I say stop, let us do all the heavy lifting."