Okay guys, this chapter has over 5,000 words, the longest chapter I have done. So this shit better get reviews for the long ass time I took to make this. The reviews I got so far are very positive, and I hope I can keep that up.
So please read and review.
The Emperor, white beard growing on his face, and a bald head, had retired to his quarters for the night. With the Penitus Oculatus guards on watch by either side of his door, he had no worry. He sighed, stretching his old weakly arms and walking towards his King sized bed. He looked down, moving himself to rest upon the edge, until a deep accented voice spoke out behind him.
"My Emperor," Titus would've been startled, but as soon as he heard the voice, he knew who it was and what he was there for. As soon as he turned, a figure in formal attire approached from the shadows. He had short black hair, stubble over his chin, and an eye patch over his left eye. Titus' expression grew grim at the sight of him.
"Scipio…" He muttered. "It's been a while."
"Indeed it has," Scipio replied, pulling up a glass of ale to his lips. He swallowed down. "I hope you don't mind," he said, motioning to his glass. The old Emperor shook his head. Scipio smirked and continued with his drink.
"It seems your strategy to defeat the rebels has worked," Titus said, sitting down at his bed like he was planning to, only he was stiff in Scipio's presence. Scipio set his glass on a side table and laced his fingers behind his back.
"Tullius would never do it," he said. "He should learn that all good things go to those who don't hold back." Scipio had a smooth stride in Titus' direction. "And now, thanks to my expertise, The Empire has a better chance of survival with all Imperial provinces back under our control"
"Though it was reckless…I'm not sure the High Queen would've much appreciated it," Titus said. Scipio scoffed.
"There is nothing to worry about, for Elisif is no High Queen," Scipio said. "Even if she was, her loyalty to her dead husband would drive her to any lengths to see vengeance done. She could be as ruthless as she is fair." Titus sat silently, thinking that Scipio would continue speaking but he just kept looking back at him.
"Well, we had a deal," the Emperor said. "You take care of the threat and I give you something in return. Now what is it? Gold? Women? Political position?" Scipio had his back turned to him, as he shook his head and laughed.
"Oh, my Emperor, nothing so predictable," he said. Titus raised an eyebrow.
"Then what is it that you ask of me?" Scipio turned around, his facial expression stone cold. He leaned in to the Emperor, hands still behind his back as he uttered one sentence.
"Your complete and unquestionable cooperation…"
A roar thundered across the sky, a giant winged beast was soaring in circles over a wooded hilltop of the snowy system. At the foot of the hill was the village of Kynesgrove, and its occupants were running frantic in fear for their lives. The Dragonborn, Jenassa, and Hadvar, upon hearing the frenzy, rushed on their mounts to the site. They all pulled their whinnying horses to a halt in front of a middle aged woman with her hands thrown up and her face expressing desperation.
"No!" She cried, "Save yourselves, a dragon is attacking!" The Dragonborn's horse stirred, shaking it's head and clanking its hooves till its rider was facing the woman sideways, the Imperial-Nordic man trying to keep it under control.
"Where is it now?" He demanded, and as if on cue, another dragon's roar rang out. The three looked up to where it came from, which was up the dirt path heavily shaded by the dense tree lines on each side. The beginning of the path had evidence of its further levels, and how it would turn constantly till the top.
"At the top of the hill," she pointed a bony finger up towards the sky, near the top of the hill, and then turned back to them. "Are you…here to help?"
"Yes," he answered, and then motioned in a direction away from the village. "Now get yourselves to safety!" With that the woman ran off, and the three dismounted their horses, running through the frenzy, bumping shoulders with people as they navigated their way through. They began to make their way up the shaded dirt path leading to the top of the hill. With boots stomping through the snow and dirt, the Dragonborn halted fast, lifting his hand up to his side in a balled fist, signaling the other two beside him to halt as well. They found themselves nearing the end of the path, a visibly open area with frenzying snow and dust from the flapping of lizard wings. On the left, the Dragonborn made out a boulder, one that was big enough for the three to hide behind; coincidentally, already there was the woman he convened with the other day in the secret room of the tavern. She was clad in a light combat armor, brown colored and strapped, possibly leather, and drawn out in her hand she carried a strange longsword with a thin blade shaped as an obtuse curve. He remembered seeing a blade like that before, he couldn't quite remember what it was called, but he knew it hailed from the land of Akavir.
Immediately, he motioned his arm forward toward the boulder like the legate that he was before, taking command of a cohort. He sprinted, the other two following and when he approached, he dropped himself against the rock, his body thudding and his sword clanking; the other two did the same. Seemingly, their sudden approach had startled the blonde Breton, and she turned, pointing her sword to them. When she noticed it was just him, she sighed and her shoulders loosened. She tilted her head to see the two allies he brought along with him.
"Is this all you brought?" She asked in a loud whisper.
"Uhh…yes," the Dragonborn replied.
"Well it's all or nothing now." They all waited and watched, peaking their heads above the boulder as they saw the large winged lizard beast of ancient times stop overhead a clearing, a structure in the middle of the field. It was like a mound, stone shaped like stairs encircled it. "That's the dragon tomb," the blonde Breton pointed out, "let's wait and see what happens."
The Dragon seemed to have stared down at the mound with its reptilian golden eyes, and then it began to speak in a deep husk, echoing throughout the woods as it flapped its wings in place.
"Sahloknir…" it said, to the Dragonborn, it sounded like a name it was uttering, as if it was calling out to it. It continued on, speaking in words that the four mortals couldn't understand, but the Dragonborn recognized what it was speaking.
"Dragon tongue…" he whispered. They each looked at him. "My Thu'um power is spoken in it."
"Do you know what its saying?" Jenassa asked, but the Dragonborn shook his head. Suddenly, a thunder strike exploded from the sky as the Dragon's voice became gruffer like it was reaching the climax of a supernatural ritual. The ground began to shake like a nirnquake.
"This is worse than I thought…" the blond Breton muttered. The dirt and nirn that was mended to the ground inside the radius of the mound had been severed, the particles flying in all directions in the air, and a set of bony skeleton wings had stretched from it like the risen dead. The wings had claws on the very end of them, and they latched onto the stone, pulling itself out and roaring into the sky as if it awakened from a long slumber. It's skeleton was being covered up by a fiery bright energy as it stepped further out from the mound, restoring it to its full terrifying form.
Its skin was as thick as armor, twisting features of razor like bones protruding out of it like a set of sharp teeth to gums. It was much like the one that awoke it, only it was colored a dirty grey, giving off the reflection to appear whiter, than the black dragon that reflected the clouded light to seem silverish. Each of its steps in the ground produced a large thud, leaving behind a print to catch the snow. It snaked its head upward, its white god eyes absent of pupils, looked toward the floating black dragon.
"Alduin, thuri!" It spoke in an equally deep and menacing voice that echoed as well, but varied enough to be unique to it only. "Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik?" The Dragonborn patted the two girls on his sides and they all went back down with him, facing a certain point on the ground. While on their knees, he pulled out a hunting knife from a holster at the back of his waist. He began carving shapes into the wet soil.
"Okay," he breathed. He pointed to the large triangle in the middle of his image. "Here's the dragon…" then he shifted to four circles on the side, "here's us." He began to carve a line starting from their position on each side. "We can use the tree line to our advantage, moving through cover as we get on either sides of it. If we can strike from multiple blind points, then that thing should go down quicker than I hope." They then heard one of the dragon's give a deep laugh.
"You do not even know our tongue, do you?" The Dragonborn's eyes widened in realization of who it was speaking to. He and the other three stood, shooting their gazes up at the black dragon that looked down upon them with its red and golden eyes. "Such arrogance; to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah." It then looked to the other Dragon perched on the ground, its name presumably Sahloknir, and spoke to it in their language.
The Dragonborn had a terrible feeling about what was going to happen next, and as soon as the black dragon in the sky flapped its wings and soared off, he could hear the sound of something like an inhale. He knew that sound, when he last fought a dragon, back at the watchtower. He heard it numerous times when it burnt out his fellow soldiers. He could only do one thing.
"GET DOWN!" Immediately, in the knick of time, they all dropped and hugged themselves up against the rock as the sizzling and trickling of flames sounded, and the heat of sparks projected itself over the top and sides of the boulder. The dragon had shouted its word of power, creating a flamethrower from its open snout, pinning the four behind the boulder as the heat of the flames barely brushed past them, until its shout ran out for the moment and the heat died down to just what was scorched around them.
Now was their chance to pull off the Dragonborn's strategy.
"Execute, execute!" Jenassa and Hadvar sprang to the left, temporarily exposing themselves. The Dark Elf covered her and the Nord by quickly drawing an arrow from her quiver and expertly getting it off in a speedy fashion. The shot bulleted and stub the dragon near its eye, and it roared. This allowed a small frame of time for the Dragonborn and the other woman to spring out in the other direction.
If it could work, he would allow Jenassa to shoot at the thing all day till it dies. However, an arrow digging into the skin of a dragon would be nothing more than a scratch to it. It would lack the proper force to penetrate the skin through all of its layers and hit a vital organ, which is what they needed to accomplish. He thought of the plan quickly as he ran; a dragon's bones are much more sturdy than a mortals, and they are nearly impossible to even just fracture. If someone was to take a stab at the skull area, the blade would only slide in part way before the tip would be halted at the surface of the skull, essentially doing no damage. He knew that from observation from his last encounter; some of his fellow soldiers had tried to do that, and they faced little success. He knew of several soft spots that could be struck: the bottom of its neck, the throat area. It had very little bone structure, leaving an open place to stab all the way through; he knew that from experience. The eye sockets, the task force could surely benefit from blinding it. Its wings can be stabbed, since it's mostly skin, but one would have to put an inhuman amount of force into it if they were to try and slice open a larger wound. Powerful stabbing motions are the only way to make efficient use of inflicting damage, and sadly its barely enough.
The Dragonborn and the other woman ducked behind an arch of dirt in the ground, a fallen tree branch providing more over top cover. The Dragonborn quickly peered out, seeing another arrow stike the dragon, and it continued to roar as it turned frantically in the direction it came from. The Dragonborn couldn't make out his two friends, and he had hoped they found cover in time for the dragon to shout more fire from its mouth.
He beat himself up in realization of something, and he muttered to himself, "Probably should've brought a pilum or two…"
"What was that?" the woman said to him. He put a hand on her shoulder.
"Nothing, now keep moving and try to get around it," he then pushed her lightly, making her jump into a sprint, moving further until she was out of sight of him. He looked back up over his cover and noticed that the dragon was faced completely away from him, its tail sticking out towards him, like it was beckoning him to come and stab it.
Now was his chance. He pulled his sword out, the blade shinging as it swiped across the edges of the sheath. It was a simple, military issue, Imperial short sword from his time in the war. It was near laughable, but it was better than his bare hands; the thought of killing a dragon with your bare hands is impossible, but it's more glory to the slayer if accomplished.
He inhaled nervously, laying his head back and pointing his face upwards towards the sky. In his head, he prayed to the Divines for a quick second, something that he rarely does. He then turned and brought himself to his feet, undoing the knot that held together his wolf cape around his shoulders. The skin slipped off into the dirt, and he charged forward, flipping his sword so he held it with the blade downward like a dagger, and he lifted it above his head, venting his energy through a yell, helping him focus his attack. The tail was spiky like, seeming less like a lizard creature and more like a Daedra; it appeared like a suit of armor itself. But with his might, he struck his sword down through its skin, penetrating all the way through and between a gap of tail bones.
It went in so deep to his exaggerated might that it became stuck in place, not budging despite his attempts to pull it out. The dragon roared once again in pain, arching its head up. The Dragonborn, grip still on the handle, was pulled forcefully, and then thrown with a rough hit to his chest, making him let go of the sword completely. The dragon's tail's might had sent him back a distance, he yelling as he flew. His back hit the ground, and he rolled uncontrollably across the dirt until he stopped on his chest. He slowly pushed himself up, coughing as he got to his knees.
"Shit…" he coughed more, and then looked around for the shield that he lost in the process. He found it lying face first to the ground just a few feet away from him. The Dragon had lifted off and began circling the battlefield, eyeing the Dragonborn especially, just as he picked back up his shield. He must've been an easy target now that he was out in the open with no weapon.
"Arminius!" He heard the accented voice of the Dark Elf call out in the distance. He turned and noticed a sword had been tossed into the air at him. He raised his free hand, palm open, and caught the sword by its handle. He pulled it back down to himself, flipping it around in his hand like the swordsman he is, getting a good feel of the new weapon he was given. It was an iron short sword, short just like his Imperial steel one, one of Jenassa's spares. It must've been his bad stroke of luck to lose a bad sword for this situation to gain an even worse one.
"I see that mortals have become arrogant!" The dragon called down to them.
"Arminius, watch out!" Jenassa called to him, as the dragon touched down directly in front of him, sending the ground shaking and him off balance. Once he regained his center, the Dragonborn immediately recognized the imminent danger in front of him, for him to be shouted to a crisp. It was a threat that a small shield like his wouldn't be able to block.
But he had his gods given power, granted to him at birth and discovered fairly recently. It ran through his non-human blood, the power wielded by the Dovah; the Thu'um. The legend of the Tongues tell the tale of the brave Nordic heroes who faced impossible odds during the Draugr wWar of the first era. They ascended to greatnes when they used the power of the Dovah's shouts against them. The Dragonborn knew it was the only way.
He took a hard step, planting his feet to the ground and stiffening his form. His muscles tense, he breathed in through his noise, his chest rising.
"Fus…" was a word that escaped with his breath, his tone seeming to rise up like a fire, and with a lastly exaggerated follow up word "ROH!" Like the power of Dovah, out of his mouth thundered a transparent blue aura of force, spreading as it sped forward. Everything in its path was kicked up and pushed back and so did the dragon, Sahloknir, whose head was knocked down to the unrelenting force. As soon as it tried to lift its head back up, the Dragonborn charged forward and plundered the iron short sword into its eye hole, blood of black squirting and oozing down its cheek. It roared, again arching its head up off the ground. This time however, the Dragonborn held on, being lifted off with its head, a firm grip on his sword and one of the scales on its head. He held on, viciously twisting his sword to mangle its eye organ ever so further, mushing it into a meat pile of blood and gush.
To his aid charged Hadvar from the other side, shield and sword raised as he as well struck his sword into the dragon, this time striking the soft spot of its neck with his Nord strength. The blonde Breton flung and jammed her long blade into the other side of the dragon's neck. With the length of the blade, it's no doubt she would've done the most damage.
They each held on to it, stabbing profusely, creating multiple breaches in its skin. The dragon now roared even louder, shaking its head side to side, trying to force away the three attackers. It chomped its snout desperately at them, shouting out fire but to no avail. It eventually flapped its wings and lifted itself off the ground, finally making them fall. It flew around in a circle, eyeing them in fury with the one eye it had left.
They all readied themselves as it began to swoop down at them. It opened its mouth, and the Dragonborn's eyes widened.
"DISPERSE!" He said, jumping to one side frantically. As a great ball of fire had just released itself, a single arrow had speeded straight into its mouth, and the fire that was supposed to have been released instead exploded inside its mouth, releasing only a smaller ball to hit and burn the center where the three were before they evaded. It made a sort of choking sound as it gulped down its own fire and it glided towards the ground on a collision course. Once again, they each evaded the incoming dragon, and it touched down violently, its scaly skin dragging along the ground, leaving a large trail of shaken dirt.
The Dragonborn looked up at it, lifting himself up slowly, sword drawn. He then turned back to see the one who was already on her feet, the one who took the shot. With the bow in her hand, Jenassa held a stern look, keeping her eye on the dragon. In that situation, an arrow made of steel and wood would've normally disintegrated in a dragon's flame, but it took a very well timed shot to actually make it in, one that only she could do.
They all approached the downed dragon with caution, noticing its body still rising in inhales and exhales, but it seemed like it was asphyxiating. They could hear it in its breath as well. The face area, especially coming out of its mouth, was steaming from the botched fire shout that the arrow caused. The four got on either side of it, getting in close and looking at its features more closely. The Dragonborn knelt down near its face, it being arched to the one side where he stabbed out its eye.
"Alduin…zu'u lost funt…" As if it felt its presence, the dragon opened its one good eye, staring straight into the Dragonborn's two blue ones. "Dovahkiin…" it muttered painfully. "Hi aal lost viik zey…"
"Who are you?" The Dragonborn demanded. "Why is your kind returning?"
"Hi nis helt mii fah lingrah…"
"What are you planning?"
"Alduin fen jakah ok nuft…" The Dragonborn stopped his questions and only looked down at it, standing back up to his feet. "Nii los dez do pah joor…" the blonde Breton came up beside the Dragonborn.
"Lets finish it off and get this over with," she said as she was about to lift her long bladed sword, the dragon spoke one more sentence.
"A war is coming, Dovahkiin…" it said. "Dark days are ahead…" And with that, it dropped its head to the ground, shitting its eye for good. Now it was dead, but what worried him was what it told them of the future.
Suddenly its skin began to glow of sparks, a sizzling sound coming from it. More and more of its scales were engulfed by the bright light.
"Stand back," the Dragonborn said. With that, the three stood back and they watched as a windy gust had fallen over them and the light energy jumped off in a path towards the Dragonborn's body, the energy disappearing into him as he stood stiff. Once the supernatural event was over, the dragon had turned back into a skeleton, jaw hung completely open. There was no more threat in the area; Kynesgrove was saved, for now.
The Dragonborn sighed, dropping the sword to the ground and running a gauntlet through his neck length black hair.
"I'll be damned," the blonde Breton said. "You really are Dragonborn."
"Did you really have any doubt?" he replied, sitting himself down on the ground and wiping the ash off of his face, in where he noticed that part of his beard was lightly burnt and disintegrated. "At least I have a reason to shave now."
"I've never seen anything like it," Hadvar said, shocked. "Did you just…devour its soul?"
"I guess I did," the Dragonborn replied.
"That was incredible," Jenassa said, kneeling down next to him. He chuckled lightly.
"That wouldn't've happened if you hadn't made that shot," he said. "Let's not have another close call like that again." For a moment, they remained silent, until the Dragonborn stood up and faced the woman who brought him to this place. "I believe you owe me some answers."
"Right," she said. "You deserve that enough." She pointed to the other two. "You two, there's no backing out, you're part of this now." Hadvar and Jenassa approached to either side of Arminius, looking to the woman.
"Wasn't planning on it," Hadvar said, crossing his arms. The Dragonborn began to ask away.
"First of all, who are you?"
"My name is Delphine, I am a Blade, part of a knightly order that has been searching for people like you for centuries."
"A Blade?" The Dragonborn said, "Where have I heard of them before."
"They came from Akavir, and served as the Emperor's bodyguard," Jenassa answered. "That was until the White-Gold concordat disbanded them."
"Replacing them with the Penitus Oculatus," Hadvar added. Delphine nodded her head.
"You two seem to know your history," she said. "I'm also one of the last of the Blades. If the Thalmor were to find me, then all of our elite techniques and Akaviri influence will fade into the dust forever, including the ancient meaning of the existence of the blades."
"And what is that purpose?"
"A very long time ago, the Blades were dragonslayers, and we served the Dragonborn, who was to be the greatest dragonslayer of them all."
"That must be why they became the Emperor's bodyguard," Hadvar said. "The Cyrodiil and Septim dynasties were both Dragonborn."
"But my father said the last Septim died two hundred years ago," the Dragonborn said. "If you were only disbanded in the White-Gold concordat, what were you doing guarding the Mede Dynasty?"
"We continued to serve the Empire for it was still a shadow of the Septim legacy," Delphine said. "And through that time we have been searching for a purpose, and the next Dragonborn. Now here you are, and we just killed a dragon that returned from the dead; our purpose is clear again…we need to stop them."
"Since you're obviously the expert here," he said. "What do you know about the dragons returning?"
"Not a damn thing," she replied. "I was just as surprised to see that big black dragon back there." The big black dragon…now that the Dragonborn was remembering its face, it was all too familiar.
"Wait a minute…" he whispered, and then turned to Hadvar. "Hadvar, did that black dragon seem familiar to you?"
"I'm not sure, Arminius," he replied. "What are you saying?"
"I think that was the same dragon that attacked us in Helgen."
"Was it?" Hadvar said, "But why did it?"
"Maybe it knew you were Dragonborn," Jenassa said.
"Dammit," Delphine interrupted abruptly. "We're blundering around in the dark here while that thing is out there flying about! We need to find out who is behind it all."
"Who is, or what is," the Dragonborn added. "Right, what happens next?"
"Everything relies on you now, the continuity of the Blades, the continuity of life as we know it," she said. "In order to find strength within yourself to fight a dragon on your own, you must know the art of the Dragon slayers from Akavir."
"You mean…you want me to become a Blade?"
"Precisely," Delphine nodded. "I'm the last one on Tamriel to hold the elite combat style of the Akaviri; what if I was to die tomorrow? The centuries of culture and style will be wiped away completely, unless this knowledge is passed on to others."
"What about us?" Hadvar said, mentioning him and Jenassa.
"You two will be part of this crusade, no doubt about that," Delphine replied. "But to be taught the ways of the Akaviri Blades is something I believe should be passed on to the Dragonborn first."
"Delphine, I'm honored that you're burdening me with the survival of the Blades and their ways, as though being burdened with the protection of Tamriel wasn't enough, but…" he scoffed. "I already know swordsmanship."
"You know how to simply stab and slice from Legion soldier training," Delphine said flatly. "Legionaries were not dragonslayers. The Blades have a unique style of fighting that hails from Akavir and takes several years of training and meditation to master, and we were dragonslayers once."
"Fair enough," the Dragonborn said, lifting his arms. "But how do we know we'll even have the time to train for years with these dragons about?"
"You can learn them fast," Delphine stepped closer to him. "You're intelligent, Arminius; back there, after only one battle, you were able to devise a plan to take this thing down with just the four of us, and it worked. Based on what I've heard about you, you seem to be very good with the blade in general, I'm sure learning to wield a Katana properly would be nothing more than an old experience to you."
"Alright," he said. "I'm convinced, when will I start my training?"
"Not quite yet," she said. "It seems we have some unfinished business to do. How about you go and get that horn back to the Greybeards while I head back to Riverwood to come up with our next move?"
"Sounds like a plan," he replied. Delphine held out her arm to him and they engaged in a shake.
"I'll see you there, be safe, and may Talos guide you," she said. The Dragonborn nodded, but his heart had heated up and its beat paced faster. Talos? He's heard of that name before. Hadvar said it to him once back in the war; it was apparently the heretical Ninth Divine.
In the war that he fought in, a huge factor of the Stormcloaks involved the concept of religious freedom to worship Talos, one that was banned by the Empire forcefully at the end of the Great War. Despite the Legion fighting to conserve the established order, ironically enough, a lot of Legion troops, especially in the fourth legion, had a strong belief in Talos, probably because half the soldiers in that legion were Nordic. They just rather had a strong sense of loyalty to the Empire, in which surprisingly they didn't abandon.
But Delphine wasn't a Nord, she was a Breton. Was it because she was a Blade? This question of religious preference would stick with the Dragonborn as he begins to question what he believes, since he never cared much for the Divines to begin with.