Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Read on for a preview from my upcoming I, Adventurer!
I was dreaming. I knew I was dreaming because I was in Battlehorn Castle. I was in the small room that I shared with Aeric and Jestin, two friends I hadn't seen in almost three years. Jestin was holding a letter from his wife over the brazier of coals, looking at it a last time before consigning it to the red-hot rocks. Aeric was dictating a letter for his sweetheart to me, the only one of the three of us who was literate.
We looked up at the sound of many feet running in the corridor, Knight-Brother Kay's face appeared in our chamber door, "Armor on and get to the walls. Right now," he said before running off. Jestin and I dropped our correspondence on the coals and stood with Aeric to don our gear.
We ran up the walls and looked about. The other Knights of the Nine and a handful of other mercenaries and refugees were already on the parapets, pointing and murmuring. I looked out on that cloudy day to see cavalry circling our castle and a substantial camp down the road from our gates.
"The Thalmor are coming," one of the mercenaries stated the obvious next to me on the wall. Already a human in a Tribune's uniform and a Justiciar in black robes were approaching the gate. They disappeared under the stonework at my feet and knocked a few seconds later.
A steel-plated fist banged on the door, "Open in the name of the Emperor!" a deep female voice bellowed outside.
I flopped on my bed like a fish and shot to the door. Still in last night's clothes, I stepped aside to admit General Tullius and Legate Rikke. Her glare over his shoulder said I should be worried. Tullius gave me a long, hard look before speaking.
"The Thalmor office at the castle was broken into last night," he said simply.
"How unfortunate for them," deadpanned, knowing both officers had noticed my filthy dark clothing, map, notes, and the stolen mask decorating my room.
"And damned inconvenient for me!" the general bit out, "Those elves are insisting I waste men and time on their investigation. I promised them the best, I'm sending them you. You will report their offices at noontime Quaestor."
I felt a pang of dread, "They'll know who I am sir," I objected.
"I've assured them that former Quaestor Ieago has been turned over to the militia of Eastmarch to face justice for the murder and assault of members of their guard. They think they'll be getting a Quaestor recently from Skingrad called Diocletian."
"I am to take another person's identity?" I asked dumbly, my imagination spending its time pondering the ways Tullius's scheme could end in disaster.
"Diocletian was a centurion who died at Helgen. Just lie Ieago, It's not that hard."
"Am I being reactivated?" I asked, needing to hear it from the General's mouth, though I knew damn well that I was a legionnaire again.
"You are Diocletian. And before I go, you've been quiet these last few weeks apart from that outrage in Windhelm. Whatever stunt you're trying to pull, I trust you're keeping the interests of the Empire at the forefront of your thoughts. Am I understood?" His last question was full of angry menace.
"Inescapably sir."
"Good. Get it done," he said and left with Rikke in tow.