Elder Scrolls Travels: Rosgard

by Sapiarch of Tamrielic Studies

4E 206. A traveling merchant is attacked by bandits on the road from Corten Mont to Rosgard. Although of minor importance and seemingly a random attack, a certain parchment plundered is just what the bandits sought. Rumors of a fallen Thalmor hero become truth and then another declaration. The second battle is to be decided by a drink. Another warrior makes way for Rosgard.

1. Prologue: A Raid on the Febun Road

Third time's the charm, is it not? At least I certainly hope it is as I get underway with my newest project since the cancellation of Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne, its replacement story, Elder Scrolls Travels: Roseguard. Like the prior fanfic before it, this work is heavily inspired by the traditional Elder Scrolls games: Arena; Daggerfall; Morrowind; Legend: Battlespire; Adventures: Redguard; and the Travels trilogy: Stormhold; Dawnstar; and Shadowkey. But inspiration also comes from videos about the series made by the YouTuber, Zaric Zhakaron, as influence in storytelling and worldbuilding from his What if [insert Elder Scrolls game here] Was Good? series, his Elder Scrolls Lore series, and other videos that discussed the mechanics of the series overall is present too. Though like I said in Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne, and the General and YouTube Disclaimers on my profile page, I will not be taking anything from his videos since I do not have his permission to use it. But the liberties I mentioned previously in the last fanfic and the General Disclaimer will apply, so refer to my profile page or read the disclaimer below which is part of it. The reason of taking liberties is so this non-canon project can feel immersive, realistic, authentic, and lore friendly to the traditional canon of the series.

As for why I am writing Elder Scrolls fanfiction, I wanted to go much further into the Fourth Era past the events of Skyrim. I realize Elder Scrolls VI is a long way away and that I do not know what it will be about apart from what others have speculated, so for all I know it could take place at around the same time as Skyrim or after it. That said though, it is likely the setting will take place in Hammerfell or maybe the Iliac Bay. Meaning it could be a direct return to Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall which featured northwestern Hammerfell, the Isle of Balfiera, and parts of High Rock. Those parts being the Kingdoms of Daggerfall and Wayrest and Orsinium Area; the respective baronies, duchies, counties, marches, fiefdoms; and other regions by them. The idea it could be Hammerfell is based on a tweet put forth on the official Elder Scrolls Twitter account on December 31, 2020, that may point towards this province. And it was also assumed by many people that its subtitle would be Redfall, though that was since proven to be a separate intellectual property and not the subtitle everyone had thought.

Besides Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, the only other title in the series set in the Fourth Era was Elder Scrolls: Blades (not counting Elder Scrolls VI for the above reason). Elder Scrolls: Blades took place following the signing of the Second Treaty of Stros M'Kai between the two parties of Hammerfell and the Thalmor of the Aldmeri Dominion. This treaty concluded the Great War in Hammerfell in 4E 180, five years after it had already concluded in Cyrodiil with the signing of the White-Gold Concordat in 4E 175, sparing the Empire further conflict. Blades is set in Cyrodiil as this is the province where Rivercrest, the protagonist's hometown, is located. Other locations are also present such as the new Plane of Oblivion, the Abyss, and the following two familiar locations: the ancient Ayleid ruin of Niryastare in the Gold Coast; and the abandoned village of Shadymarch (renamed to Shady Grove during the development of Elder Scrolls Adventures: Redguard as an easter egg to the location of Bethesda's offices) in Hammerfell. The location of Anvil Keep could be related to County Anvil, the city of Anvil, and the castle in the city, but this remains uncertain. However, I know little about this game as I had not played it myself despite learning some general things about its story on the UESP.

This being said, how far into the future did I want to go from Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim for this first Elder Scrolls fanfic? And how much distance did I want to put between the lore of Skyrim and the province's location and wherever I went with my fanfic? Both are critical questions I asked myself during the planning phase of Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne and are still highly important to the new story of Elder Scrolls Travels: Roseguard. So, my answers for both remained the same, basing it entirely around the Second Great War in Tamriel between the Third Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. Again, a common theme hinted at when Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim's Civil War questline ended. Also again, with the same variation featured in Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne, the Alliance of Man formed by the Empire, Skyrim, and the Lhotunics of Hammerfell. A reunion of sorts, but with both provinces still independent from the Empire on account of their secession as a result of the White-Gold Concordat. This much remains the same so they can fight back against their common enemy, and I elaborated upon this further in the non-canon lore below. It best explains the process I had followed and why.

As to Skyrim's involvement specifically, I went with the same choices as described in the author's notes of Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne. Each of which is stated below in the non-canon lore, but I will reiterate these decisions as explained in the cancelled fanfic's author's notes. First, the Last Dragonborn destroys the Dark Brotherhood but Emperor Titus Mede II is assassinated by Babette. I said in Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne's author's notes that this will be for a future fanfic, though at this time I should say that this upcoming idea is pending for the time being. Next, I went with the continuity that Saadia/Iman betrayed the Kingdom of Taneth to the Dominion as part of the background history. As to the game's main factions, the Last Dragonborn joined the Stormcloaks to overthrow the Empire and the Dawnguard to destroy most of Clan Volkihar. He does not join any of the other factions which are going to have their own conclusions. But he does travel to Solstheim to defeat Miraak and become Hermaeus Mora's Champion, while performing the side quests mentioned in the non-canon lore. As a Stormcloak, he is the Thane of Eastmarch only and Hjerim is his only house. Even though he does hold the title of Thane of Whiterun, this title will mean absolutely nothing to him. He does not own property there, nor in the other Holds; he is not Thane of them either.

My reasoning for making these decisions was because I wanted the Last Dragonborn to have character development as a villain to the rest of Tamriel and a hero to his people. His people being Stormcloak Nords only, not Nords unaligned with the Stormcloaks and not any of the other races. This means he will be akin to Ulfric Stormcloak, Galmar and Rolff Stone-Fist, and Ralof of Riverwood. So, the Last Dragonborn will be racist towards the other races like them and devoutly advocate for and espouse Nordic supremacy. Specifically, Stormcloak Nordic supremacy that includes extreme bias against Nords unaligned with the Stormcloaks. When developing the Stormcloaks for my fanfiction, I wanted them to be quite the barbaric equivalent and reflection of the Thalmor. They are all barbarians as an appeal to how Nords of Skyrim are traditionally depicted, like in the First and Third Editions of the Pocket Guide to the Empire and the previous installments of the main series. And very few, including each of the five aforementioned Stormcloak Nords, have a bit of intelligence for political acumen. But the Stormcloak Nords are very much an evil society like the Thalmor because, like I had said, they are a reflection of them. This way both parties could be compared and contrasted.

Also, the Last Dragonborn will be the default male Nord presented in the marketing and as the default character. This way his appearance will be set, though like all heroes from the games he will not be featured in Elder Scrolls Travels: Roseguard save for being spoken of at times. This will be true for my other Elder Scrolls fanfics, save for one listed on my profile page. But this exception is still pending and may be removed at my discretion as stated there.

With Skyrim's future in the Fourth Era set by the non-canon lore I developed with a timeline recording events prior to the fanfic, I then turned towards the geographic distance. Like the two questions above, my answer has remained the same as in Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne. This geographic distance is not addressed or measured by the timeline; it is a decision as to which of the other provinces I wanted to set the story in. Again, I kept the Second Great War as the background theme to be near the action but apart from it at the same time. And again, it will be taking place during the war but not within the war itself. Or in this case, not further away from the home front. In Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne, I traveled across southern Hammerfell from the Kingdom of Taneth all the way to the island of Herne. That had taken me away from the home front which would have been mainland Hammerfell. Placing myself on an island in the Kingdom of Hegathe's jurisdiction was a step away from that home front.

At the time, I went with the latter of either during the war itself or another event that took place during it. This decision enabled the story to compromise between the two, making the Second Great War more of an extra filler for background purposes. It was kept separate and distant at the same time. But for Elder Scrolls Travels: Roseguard, I wanted to step much closer to the war by being within the home front so that it can be a more effective background and have a greater impact on the story. So, the unique perspective of it standing by and apart from Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and the Second Great War remains the same. It is just closer, and it is the reason why my Elder Scrolls fanfiction will be named after the Travels subseries and Adventures: Redguard. Both now and from this point forward. Travels shall focus upon a particular location like the Stormhold and Dawnstar installments (Shadowkey was actually an exception since it was a concept), and Adventures will be about a particular concept. I am not using Elder Scrolls Legend since the Battlespire was a location and because Elder Scrolls Legends is also using the name. And Elder Scrolls: [Insert Subtitle Here] just feels so generic.

I have a ton of ideas for Elder Scrolls Travels and Adventures fanfics written up. You can find the entire list on my profile page. However, this list is still pending because I am still focusing on the current fanfic—which is Elder Scrolls Travels: Roseguard as a replacement to Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne. So, it is subject to change at any time at my discretion, depending on whatever factors or reasons influence my choice to make changes, add new ideas, or drop ideas that are currently listed. Meaning the list is not actually definite nor proven as definite.

So why is Elder Scrolls Travels: Roseguard my replacement for Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne? The answer, to summarize what I had written in the Notes section of my profile page, is that I overlooked where a piece of Herne's lore came from—Elder Scrolls Online, which I am not using for lore because its lore is contradictory—and got exhausted while rewriting it. My interest in and satisfaction with Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne declined to a point in which I no longer wanted to continue writing it. I have explained this more thoroughly in the Notes section, so please refer to my profile page for more answers. Though why am I writing Elder Scrolls Travels: Roseguard specifically? The answer to this question is also rather simple since I wanted to delve more into the area surrounding Roseguard and look into the battle named after the town which took place during the First Great War. And also, to remain in this part of southern Hammerfell to give way more attention to it than in Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne.

But I knew that examining the Battle of Roseguard could not do without its Thalmor war hero, Angarion the Bold. When this Altmeri warrior was introduced as a gladiator and antagonist of Elder Scrolls: Blades' Arena questline tied to this particular battle, I wondered why that was important and how I could work with it if pursued for my fanfiction. Angarion the Bold is obviously the main antagonist of Elder Scrolls Travels: Roseguard, as some might have inferred from the title. The reasons why are because of the Battle of Roseguard and the First Great War having taken place in the canon prior and also since the Second Great War is a major part of the backstory for this fanfic. It would not be about Roseguard without him and his participation in the Battle of Roseguard. He is that vital and relevant to both its lore and this fanfic which will build up to his role and appearance as the main antagonist. Though I also wanted to give him a bit more background and a conclusion to his story as it relates to the Aldmeri Dominion and the Second Great War. To expand upon him as a character and an antagonist. It is a captivating idea that proved too interesting for me to ignore and discard.

In this, I will be covering places not seen in the series in many years. We have been to northern Hammerfell in Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall and Elder Scrolls Online. We visited the island of Stros M'Kai in Elder Scrolls Adventures: Redguard and Elder Scrolls Online again. We also went to Hew's Bane and the city of Abah's Landing in Elder Scrolls Online's Thieves Guild DLC. Southern Hammerfell, especially the southeastern half, was part of the province in Elder Scrolls I: Arena, but we have not returned there since then. I think we should, now.

Elder Scrolls Adventures: Stormcloak was my first ever Elder Scrolls fanfic, though it got scrapped before it was even published. Elder Scrolls Travels: Herne achieved publication where it failed, but rewriting it became exhausting and I had made the same kind of mistake in overlooking lore as I had made with the first one. I do not intend for Elder Scrolls Travels: Roseguard to follow the same path as those two, I want it to succeed where the others had not because of falling to the wayside. I learned from my mistakes and am using the two previous fanfics' failures as valuable and humbling learning experiences to better ensure I get it right this time. Because without learning, without this knowledge, my works would fail to improve.

Disclaimer:

What follows is a summarization of the General Disclaimer from my profile page. To view it in full, please go to my profile page where you will find it under the Rights Statement. I strongly encourage you to take the time to go through all of the statements and disclaimers as they explain why I am writing fanfiction and what my approach will be as I am writing it.

This Elder Scrolls fanfic and all other Elder Scrolls fanfics after it are going to occur after the events of Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. They are not going to be sequels to the main story or any of the faction questlines from the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. There are so many of these kinds of fanfics already, so I will be moving onto the future of the Fourth Era after this game. Each of my Elder Scrolls fanfics will be purely standalone, so you can start reading any story you want. However, there shall be allusions to previous fanfics wherever I can include them.

Immersion, authenticity, realism, and lore friendliness are the main cornerstones my Elder Scrolls fanfiction is built upon. And, at the same time, the foundation is going to be my own personal interpretation of the lore. So, I will be taking the following liberties: The UESP, Imperial Library, in-game lore books, and the First and Third Editions of the Pocket Guide to the Empire will be my main sources of lore. Lore from Elder Scrolls Online is going to be excluded entirely from my fanfiction because it is contradictory to the traditional games. But I will be including the geographic worldbuilding, landscaping, architectural styles, bestiary, and general things from Elder Scrolls Online since these fill in the worldbuilding that has yet to be completed by the main series. At the same time, I will place emphasis on how the regions are described in traditional lore. The depiction of Skyrim, the province, will be precisely the same as in Elder Scrolls I: Arena, not Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Likewise, Solstheim shall be depicted as in Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind's Bloodmoon expansion pack, not Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim's Dragonborn DLC. But I will respect the two-century time-skip separating Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, so some differences and the lore in between shall remain in place. And names of original characters and original places shall come from the Fantasy Name Generator, a website which has an Elder Scrolls section that offers names.

I am not an employee of nor affiliated with Bethesda, Zenimax, and other companies within the Zenimax family. I am also not an employee of nor affiliated with Microsoft which now owns the Zenimax family. I am also not a member of nor am affiliated with the following projects: OpenTESArena; Daggerfall Unity; OpenMW; TES3MP; Tamriel Rebuilt; Project Tamriel; Morrowind Rebirth; Skygerfall; Skywind; Skyblivion; Beyond Skyrim; Olenveld; Thras: The Coral Kingdom; Cathnoquey: The Fractured Isles; TES Valenwood; and Alinor: The Eternal Paradise. I am not a mod creator nor am I affiliated with mod creators, and no mods will be featured in my fanfiction. I used mods in Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim though. I played a bit of Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind but have yet to continue the first run. I did not play: Elder Scrolls I: Arena; Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall; Elder Scrolls Legend: Battlespire; Elder Scrolls Adventures: Redguard; the subseries trilogy of Elder Scrolls Travels: Stormhold; Dawnstar; and Shadowkey; Elder Scrolls Legends; and Elder Scrolls Online. And last of all, I do not own the Elder Scrolls; it is owned by Bethesda.

Finally, direct questions and direct comments will be answered within the epilogue's author's notes to the best of my ability. I will try to answer as much as I can then or at a later time if I do not have an answer right away. But I may not be able to answer everything since I am writing and editing my Elder Scrolls fanfiction all on my own and have obligations that need to be taken care of in real life. So please do not be discouraged or upset if I do not offer an answer or a response to your question. Just because I do not because I am unable to or do not have one does not mean I am not listening to your feedback and reviews. Your feedback and reviews are greatly appreciated and highly helpful to my skill as a fanfiction writer and the development of my Elder Scrolls fanfiction. I will do my best to offer answers that are of satisfaction, but I understand that my answers might not be fully satisfactory or satisfactory at all. So, I apologize in advance if I am unable to achieve as satisfactory an answer you want.

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4E 201- Emperor Titus Mede II is assassinated by a Dark Brotherhood remnant as revenge for raiding the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary in Falkreath Hold. The Imperial Legion is in disarray, enabling the Stormcloaks to achieve victory in the Stormcloak Rebellion. Once Solitude is in their hands, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak besieges the Thalmor Embassy and Northwatch Keep. The Thalmor attempt to withstand his assault but are massacred. Few survive the carnage and are jailed by the Stormcloaks, who torture them for intelligence and as punishment for their crimes against Skyrim. Unbeknownst to the Stormcloaks, two Justiciars known as Ancano and Estormo attempt to unmake Mundus at the College of Winterhold. A student uncovers their plan, thwarting it with their deaths under the Psijic Order's guidance. Bequeathed the title and position of Arch-Mage, she closes the college to preclude the Thalmor, Stormcloaks, and outsiders from further destruction. With Skyrim united under Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak's rule, the Last Dragonborn journeys to the ruins of Skuldafn in the Velothi Mountains of Eastmarch. Entering the Aetherial Plane of Sovngarde, he challenges Alduin's misrule and delivers a fatal blow ending the World Eater and the Dragon Crisis on behalf of Stormcloak interests. With the rebellion and the crisis over, Skyrim belongs to the Stormcloaks.

4E 201- Following the Stormcloak Rebellion, Jarl Skald the Elder orders for the immediate execution of Dawnstar's retired Imperial Legionnaires, Brina Merilis and Horik Halfhand, on the charges of having been Legionnaires and remaining loyal to the Empire as Imperial sympathizers. When none of his Hold's own guards obey his command, he hires an assassin to exterminate them.

4E 201- The traitorous Crown, Iman, is returned to Taneth. Brought before the royal court, she is put on trial and sentenced to execution for the crime of treason. Although she tries to escape, she is soon recaptured. As she awaits execution, Iman chooses to claim her own life on her terms.

4E 201- As the procedure for calling the Moot gets underway, a sudden vampire attack in Windhelm draws Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak's attention. The Last Dragonborn is then approached by the Dawnguard to assist them in stopping other vampire attacks around Skyrim. With the soon-to-be-High King's permission, he joins the Dawnguard and journeys to Dimhallow Crypt. There, the Last Dragonborn reawakens Serana, a Daughter of Coldharbour and a vampire of Clan Volkihar sealed away to stop her father, Lord Harkon, from fulfilling a prophecy called the Tyranny of the Sun. Together, with help from the Dawnguard and the Stormcloaks, they vanquish the clan before the prophecy is realized. For her role in the campaign, Serana is decreed an unofficial member of the Dawnguard. She and her mother, Valerica, are spared by the Dawnguard; with some aid from the Last Dragonborn, Serana convinces her mother to finally leave the Soul Cairn and return home to Castle Volkihar. When off-duty, she sometimes visits her mother, now living a life of peace while conducting alchemical experiments. The Dawnguard sometimes rely on Valerica's potions as well.

4E 201- Dunmeri cultists arrive in Windhelm from the island of Solstheim. After his success in foiling their assassination attempt on his life, the Last Dragonborn sets sail for the island under Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak's permission. Arriving in the colony of Raven Rock, the Last Dragonborn conducts a solo investigation into the cult and their leader, Miraak. During his stay in Raven Rock, he assists in reopening its ebony mine to put the colony back on the map. House Redoran's interest in Raven Rock is rekindled over the following days, restoring commercial trade between the colony and the city-state of Blacklight in Morrowind. But only on a limited basis as other interests prevail.

4E 201- After his expedition into the ebony mine, the Last Dragonborn assists in repelling an assault on Raven Rock by Ash Spawn. Upon investigating the source of Ash Spawn attacks, he discovers the late General Falx Carius, a Knight Protector of the Imperial Legion overseeing Fort Frostmoth, has been resurrected. Following the late general's defeat, the Last Dragonborn delves deep into the mystery through his work with Telvanni Wizard, Neloth. Together, they discover that a late apprentice of Neloth's named Ildari Sarothril was revived by a Heart Stone he placed within her for experimentation. The Last Dragonborn traces her to Highpoint Tower and kills the revived madwoman to halt further attacks on Tel Mithryn and Raven Rock. He tears the Heart Stone from her body to keep her from being reanimated again, pleasing Neloth with her death and its return.

4E 201- Believing he can trust the Last Dragonborn, Second Councilor Adril Arano speaks with him about a potential threat to the life of Councilor Lleril Morvayn of Raven Rock. The Last Dragonborn agrees to aid the Councilors and investigates the Severin Family. He discovers Tilisu Severin and Mirri Severin are assassins of the long-dispersed Morag Tong and that Vendil Severin is in fact a member of the Ulen Family of House Hlaalu. Learning that Vendil Ulen is seeking the murder of Councilor Morvayn for the execution of his ancestor, Vilur Ulen, the Last Dragonborn journeys to another former Imperial fort known as Ashfallow Citadel. Fighting his way through a small number of Morag Tong assassins, the Last Dragonborn reaches Vendil Ulen and slays him. Councilor Morvayn bequeaths him Severin Manor as an expression of thanks for ending the plot. As they are Dunmer, however, the Last Dragonborn is begrudgingly grateful and accepts the offer.

4E 201- After learning of a temple being restored, the Last Dragonborn travels across the island and delves into Hermaeus Mora's realm of Apocrypha to kill Miraak. Before he can combat the First Dragonborn, however, he must remove Miraak's influence from the All-Maker Stones all over Solstheim and finish learning Bend Will, a Thu'um that will enable him to end that influence. Unfortunately, to fully learn Bend Will he must bring the Black Book called Epistolary Acumen to the Skaal's shaman, Storn Crag-Strider, who willingly sacrifices himself to Hermaeus Mora. Once the Skaal's secrets are known to him, the Daedric Prince allows the Last Dragonborn to end the First Dragonborn's life. For defeating Miraak, Hermaeus Mora permits him to keep all the powers he acquired across Apocrypha and proclaims the unwilling Last Dragonborn his new Champion.

4E 201- After his victory against Miraak, the Last Dragonborn learns a Thalmor Justiciar named Ancarion has come to Solstheim in search of Stalhrim weaponry and armor. As an apology to the Skaal, he rescues their blacksmith from Ancarion's clutches and promptly kills the Justiciar.

4E 201- With the Skaal appeased, the Last Dragonborn starts to head for Raven Rock when a group of Nords call for his help in retaking their Mead Hall of Thirsk from rieklings. Taking the time to help them slaughter the creatures and win back their Mead Hall, he then joins their leader, Bujold the Unworthy, on a short journey to Hrothmund's Barrow for her to be blessed by the spirit of Thirsk's founder. When Hrothmund's spirit rejects her for having lost Thirsk due to weaknesses she caused, Bujold fails to convince the Last Dragonborn in solidifying her reign and attacks him. Bringing the truth of her death to Thirsk, the Last Dragonborn then makes his way back to Skyrim.

4E 201- Upon the Last Dragonborn's return, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak travels up the Throat of the World with him, Galmar and Rolff Stone-Fist, and Ralof of Riverwood to hold Ulfric's Moot. In attendance are both the Jarls who supported him and the Jarls who opposed his reign. Once he announces himself High King of Skyrim and the province's independence from the Empire, Ulfric orders the Last Dragonborn, Galmar, Rolff, and Ralof to execute the Imperial Jarls, Balgruuf the Greater, Igmund, Idgrod Ravencrone, and Siddgeir in that order respectively. Only Jarl Elisif the Fair is spared execution and is permitted to rule Solitude and Haafingar. But she is cast out from the Moot and exiled from ever attending it again, and the rest of her political power is thus severed.

4E 201- Surreptitiously plotting Elisif's execution, Ulfric assigns a new Stormcloak recruit to enroll in the Bards College of Solitude undercover. The applicant heads to Dead Man's Respite, the tomb of High King Olaf One-Eye, a First Era Nord Jarl of Whiterun Hold, on assignment from Headmaster Viarmo. The aspiring bard delves deep into the tomb in search of the legendary Jarl Olaf's Verse, a lost fragment of the Poetic Edda, buried there with Svaknir, a Nord skald also of the First Era who authored the verse to challenge Olaf's legitimacy following his alleged capture of the dragon, Numinex, which secured him his bid to the High Kingship. The bard recovers it and fights alongside Svaknir's spirit against the draugr that was once Olaf One-Eye. Victorious thanks to Svaknir's aid, he returns to Solitude and aids Viarmo in attempts to translate Jarl Olaf's Verse. The final version is brought before Jarl Elisif the Fair to convince her to hold the Burning of Jarl Olaf, a festival held by the Bards College to celebrate the burning of an effigy styled after him that was called off prior due to High King Torygg's death. With her approval, the festival is underway.

4E 201- Once his spy network reports the recruit's success, Ulfric has him assassinated to conceal his duplicity. When the Burning of Jarl Olaf takes place, the High King makes his presence interrupting the proceedings look coincidental. Politicizing the festival as an act of treason against him and his reign as per his plot against Jarl Elisif, Ulfric orders for her public execution and has both her royal court and the bards sentenced to death alongside her. Additionally, he calls for the imprisonment of all citizens who attended the festival. To add insult to injury, the High King snuffs out the Flame of Callisos, the famous traveling bard and a renowned alumni of the Bards College, himself. As the flame signified the college would stand so long as it remained lit, the High King's blatant act of treason is viewed as an omen by all of Solitude. With Elisif removed from the throne, Ulfric promptly appoints Istar Cairn-Breaker, his Stormblade who encamped in Haafingar during the Stormcloak Rebellion, as the Hold's new Jarl. With Haafingar's throne secure, he subsequently follows through on Elisif's execution before authorizing the accompanying genocide on Solitude's citizens in attendance. Once the city-state is "purged" of "dissidents against his rule," the usurper decrees that only Stormcloak bards from Windhelm are to staff and enroll in the college under his sole permission to sing songs of honor and recite poetry dedicated to him and his glories in battle.

4E 201- Mercer Frey, a traitor among the Thieves Guild and the Nightingales of Nocturnal, dies at the hands of a Nightingale. The Skyrim Thieves Guild regains dominance over the province as its influence in the other Holds recovers. The Nightingales' identities remain unknown to history and their heists across Skyrim with the Thieves Guild bleed the province just as dry as High King Ulfric Stormcloak and the Stormcloaks are for his great war chest against the Aldmeri Dominion.

4E 201- Kodlak Whitemane is killed in an assault on Jorrvaskr and Whiterun undertaken by the Silver Hand who have slain Skjor of the Circle prior. As the Circle splits, the Companions are left in disarray without a Harbinger. Its members gradually resign, either settling in Whiterun or leaving the city for other parts of Skyrim or to leave the province altogether. Once the Circle is all that remains, Jarl Vignar Gray-Mane officially dissolves the Companions. The brothers, Vilkas and Farkas depart Whiterun for Ysgramor's Tomb in Winterhold where they stand guard over its chief warrior and Jarl, Ysgramor, and his generals of the Five Hundred Companions. As the Jarl promptly seizes Jorrvaskr by official decree for his own clan, Aela the Huntress, the last remaining member of the Circle and the Companions and a descendant of Hrotti Blackblade, undertakes one final act of valor in the names of Ysgramor, Kodlak, and Hircine. Becoming a werewolf, she fights off most of the Jarl's soldiers and slays a vast majority before she is slain dishonorably by the Jarl himself. Despite Aela's sudden reveal of her identity as a werewolf which enables him to capitalize on the opportunity to discredit the Companions, her martyrdom does not end in vain. Protests all throughout Whiterun Hold and all of Skyrim erupt against him for dishonoring her and tradition.

4E 201- With the Companions now officially no more, Jarl Vignar Gray-Mane then directs his attention to Clan Battle-Born. Declaring them traitors of Skyrim, the Stormcloak Jarl calls for their execution. All of Whiterun Hold and the rest of Skyrim protest against this latest crime of his, labeling him a traitor to the Stormcloaks, Whiterun Hold, and all of Skyrim. Only Lars Battle-Born is spared execution on account of being a child, but he is enslaved by the Jarl and both his nephews and niece. Despite the province's resentment, High King Ulfric Stormcloak praises Jarl Vignar in public and private on a job well done of eliminating Clan Battle-Born for threating their rule over Skyrim and for being fences and influencers of the province's Thieves Guild from the city of Riften.

4E 201- Realizing that High King Ulfric Stormcloak, his Jarls, and his army are targeting them, the Nightingales and the Thieves Guild evacuate Riften and go into hiding. At the same time, Maven Black-Briar and her son, Hemming Black-Briar, depart Riften and the Rift with the entirety of their fortune for Nibenay in Cyrodiil, abandoning Ingun and Sibbi to the Stormcloaks. Gaining nothing from the failed attempts to arrest them all for treason against his reign, Ulfric is only able to declare the escapees his enemies. The humiliation does not hurt his popularity with Stormcloaks.

4E 201- With his mother and brother now permanently gone from Riften and the Rift, Sibbi Black-Briar is released from prison under Jarl Laila Law-Giver's orders. She grants him the title of Thane and all the rewards, benefits, and accommodations that come with it and makes him one of the advisors in her royal court, much to the chagrin and anger of citizens throughout the Hold. With his newfound status and political power, he is quick to abuse it for his own personal benefit.

4E 201- Following a riot in Cidhna Mine, Madanach, the King in Rags, escapes with each of the Forsworn imprisoned with him. Although the guards try to stop them, they perish along with a number of citizens who get caught in the conflict. As a result of the chaos clustered in Markarth, Madanach and his band of Forsworn escape into the Reach unscathed without a single loss of life. Casualties on Markarth's side, unfortunately, are much higher than expected. In response to their defeat, Jarl Thongvor Silver-Blood calls the Forsworn a menace to the Reach and raises his levies to search for their strongholds and assault them. His reaction receives mixed reception among the survivors in Markarth who view his proposed solution as the best resolution to the danger around them, continuation of an ongoing conflict that will never end, or a fool's errand that will only fail.

4E 201- Two hundred seven years following its creation, a Mechanical Heart made by the long dead Living God, Sotha Sil, is completed. The Clockwork City, powered throughout the years of its construction, regains some of the prestige it lost after Sotha Sil's decline and his death. The return of a former Clockwork Apostle named Mecinar, once exiled from the Clockwork City, puts the city-state in danger. Stealing divine power from the Heart and adapting it to his body, Mecinar ascends to divinity as a Living God. Retrieving a set of tools Sotha Sil created in order to control the Mechanical Heart, a Forgotten Hero uses them to destroy the artifact and the Clockwork City and kill Mecinar. As a result, the Clockwork Apostles who survived its fall find themselves with no place to call home where they can study in peace. They soon disperse all across the rest of Tamriel.

4E 202- Siege of Wayrest- Fourteen years after the city-state of Wayrest was conquered by invading corsairs, a coalition of Legionnaires from the 47th Legion and Knights of the Rose retake it after two brutal weeks of besiegement. A Knight of the Imperial Dragon, Ashterius Nerennius of the Imperial Legion, is then crowned King of Wayrest for leading the assault and killing the pirate ruler. His appointment is immediately affirmed days later by unanimous vote of the Elder Council, whom pass a resolution proclaiming Ashterius Emperor just weeks later to counter the Dominion.

4E 202- The Crowns and Forebears join forces to reestablish the old political movement of the Lhotunics in Hammerfell. Their summit is presided over by High King Alessan, who oversees and leads negotiations before ratifying the Treaty of Lhotun, named after the movement's founder, King Lhotun of Sentinel. Work begins on solidifying the Lhotunics as the dominant political system.

4E 202- Finding the Forsworn more formidable than he anticipated, Jarl Thongvor Silver-Blood uses his clan's fortune to enlist mercenaries from around Skyrim against the demands of his brother, Thonar Silver-Blood. His decision sparks a feud between them and splits the clan in two. As their conflict engulfs all of Markarth, word reaches the city that Thongvor's army is collapsing in on itself. Desertions escalate drastically and those remaining on the frontlines are quickly slain. Commanding officers are assassinated in the dead of night by Forsworn or disgruntled troops who bear grudges against them. The hired mercenaries do not show up, refusing to honor their contract with Thongvor and taking the payment offered upfront while betraying him to the Forsworn. Faced with plummeting morale and Madanach's inevitable conquest, Jarl Thongvor tries to contact High King Ulfric Stormcloak for aid. His messengers fail to pass through the Reach and are all slain en route. News of the situation reaches the High King's ears but he is too preoccupied with preparing for his inevitable full invasion and conquest of the Dominion to even bother caring for Markarth.

4E 203- The Empire, Hammerfell, and Skyrim gather together in Bruma to sign the Treaty of Bruma and ratify it. Emperor Ashterius Nerennius, High King Ulfric Stormcloak, and High King Alessan all commit themselves to a needed accord against the Thalmor and the Aldmeri Dominion. Together, they form the Alliance of Man, named for each of the human races who comprise it. This sparks outcry from the Bretons who demand inclusion, though the Emperor assures them that they are even though they are of half-elven blood. Plans are quickly drawn up and maps are gathered, leading to the formulation of a strategy they quickly discover will bring the Thalmor to their knees. The Empire and Hammerfell re-establish cordial relations with one another but High King Ulfric Stormcloak and his Stormcloaks disparage their allies for being too incompetent and weak to fight.

4E 203- Having realized the Empire, Lhotunics, and Stormcloaks have begun to join forces against them, the Thalmor evaluate their current plots against the three parties. Division between the Breton kingdoms of High Rock and within them produces little headway as the province backs the Alliance of Man. Sparks of a sudden civil war in Hammerfell dwindle as soon as they are cast. The Stormcloaks are all behind their High King and many who do not support him are joining the war effect against the Dominion. Only Jarl Thongvor Silver-Blood in the Reach remains unable to offer aid on account of the Forsworn, whom the Thalmor draft plans for making contact with. The Dunmer of Morrowind pose no threat to the Empire and are too busy worrying about their affairs to even get involved on either side. Believing they can get Argonia to side with them in the imminent Second Great War, the Thalmor send a party of Justiciars to contact the King of the High Marsh.

4E 203- After their offer of admitting Argonia into the Dominion is declined by the King of the High Marsh, the Thalmor begin plotting his assassination to frame the Empire. Their attempted assassination and the coup that could have erupted soon after fails when their contracted assassin is discovered and surrenders them to Argonia. The Thalmor try to withdraw from the province but are caught near the border to Cyrodiil in a desperate attempt to trick the king into thinking they were part of the Empire as a last resort. An Imperial Legion border patrol meets with his soldiers to confirm the Thalmor are not from the Empire nor are working on the Emperor's behalf. Having anticipated their conspiracy, Emperor Ashterius meets with the King of the High Marsh. Although the latter declines the offer to join the Alliance, he agrees to a concurrent invasion of Anequina in Elsweyr for revenge while the Alliance sets its own sights on the Bosmeri province of Valenwood.

4E 203- The situation in the Reach finally catches High King Ulfric Stormcloak's attention. As he mulls over whether to send help or ignore Jarl Thongvor Silver-Blood's plight, he comes to a cunning realization. Since he "cannot afford to divert resources from the war effort," he is able to offer regret and condolences to the Stormcloak Jarl of Markarth with a promise that he is going to personally conquer the Forsworn upon his return to Skyrim. In reality, Ulfric begins plotting to use the situation to his advantage in transcending from the Bear of Markarth to Hero of the Reach and placing the Jarl in his debt. Orders go out to the other Stormcloak Jarls to abandon the Reach.

4E 204- An old map showing Markarth Side's original location is discovered in Markarth.

4E 204- The Second Great War and the Anequinan War begin. The first war is initiated by the Lhotunic and Imperial Navies assaulting Valenwood from the Abecean Sea while the Imperial Legion and the Stormcloaks invade the province from Cyrodiil. The latter two armies pass through the Kingdoms of Riverhold and Dune in Anequina as well, causing as much damage to both of the kingdoms as they can to make it easier for Argonia's army to conquer it. Their assistance enables Argonia's army to focus their efforts on the Kingdoms of Rimmen and Alabaster and the adjacent border to Pelletine before conquering both and quickly moving to besiege the Kingdom of Orcrest.

Battle of the Abecean- Redguard privateers and the Imperial Navy sack cities and the city-states on Valenwood's western coast. Jaqspur and Altmeri mages are the only soldiers capable of defending the ports, but soon fall to the invaders' naval strength. Alliance warships bombard them with cannon fire and sink Dominion warships attempting to fight back and make port. The former also blockades ports while sinking the latter to prevent further aid from reaching the Thalmor and their inland army. With the Dominion's full navy utterly obliterated, their forces in Alinor are left largely in the dark as to how the war is progressing. Few sense their imminently impending doom and try to raise awareness, but to no avail which leaves them with no choice but to abandon their allies in Valenwood and Elsweyr and fend for themselves as they begin preparing their withdrawal.

Battles of Malabal Tor and Reaper's March- The Imperial Legion and Stormcloaks invade Malabal Tor and Reaper's March from the north. Due to the western naval assault and Argonia's invasion of Anequina, the Dominion's armies are split on three fronts. Their resources are spread thin in Valenwood as many supplies and valuable resources, having been diminished prior, are in heavy decline. A Wild Hunt is called by the Silvenar but the rising death toll of Bosmer leaves few to answer. Those who change are instantly slain by battlemages of the Penitus Oculatus, the Synod, and the College of Whispers before they can even attempt to complete transformations and attack.

Conquest of Anequina- Argonia's invasion of Anequina, thanks to the prior destruction the Imperial Legion and Stormcloaks wrought on their way through, quickly succeeds within a couple months of the army's arrival. With the Dominion's army in the client state totally obliterated, there is no longer any opposition hindering the King of the High Marsh from having Anequina colonized for Argonia. The Anequinan War promptly concludes, though Argonia's army continues south into Pelletine to utterly surround the Kingdom of Corinthe and eventually conquer it within mere days. Faced with their possible destruction, the remaining Kingdoms of Torval and Senchal immediately sue for peace and secede from the Dominion despite maintaining what is left of the crippled army.

4E 204- A mysterious storm manifests over the Ayleid ruin of Belda in Cyrodiil. Surprised by its strange appearance and eventual disappearance, mages from the Synod investigate the ruin to find out why. They find nothing, though more storms soon appear above Belda as if drawn to it.

4E 204- Civil unrest erupts in Skyrim in the Stormcloaks' absence as revolution takes form.

Conquest of Markarth- The Forsworn surround Markarth on all sides while concluding all excavations under the city for a surprise invasion from below in conjunction with their assault on the outside. Unaware of their plot to take the city, Jarl Thongvor Silver-Blood, accepting that High King Ulfric Stormcloak will not be coming to their aid and angry with him for it, risks leaving the city to propose an offer to King Madanach. His wish to duel the King in Rags one on one falls with him as the Forsworn set upon him and his guards, killing all of them instantly with zero casualties. Realizing there is no way out and becoming aware of the tunnels dug below the city, Thonar Silver-Blood attempts to surrender to Madanach and leaves Markarth by himself to accept terms. But he too is slain without mercy, giving the Forsworn their opportunity to enter Markarth without further opposition. Clan Silver-Blood is driven extinct by their hands, and they offer the remaining citizens who survived a choice: Accept Madanach as their king and fully convert to their Forsworn culture or leave Markarth and never come back. Most choose the latter, but a small handful decide to stay.

Overthrow of Falkreath Hold- A bandit army once loyal to the late Imperial Jarl, Siddgeir, seizes power in Falkreath Hold and pillages its settlements and the nearby town of Riverwood that sits on the border between it and Whiterun Hold. In days, the entire Hold is reduced to but a mere shell of itself as the bandit army splinters and devolves into lawlessness. Without anyone to restore order, Falkreath Hold quickly becomes lost and loses its status as a Hold of Skyrim. Orsinium sees the chaos and the Stormcloaks' absence and misrule as an opportunity to prepare its own invasion.

Deposition of Jarl Skald the Elder- Jarl Skald Felgeif the Elder of Dawnstar is deposed by his people, including his guards, as they rebel against his tyranny. They seize and beat him before dragging him out into the town square where they tie his limp body to a post. The Jarl's anger and threats of condemnation banning their souls from Sovngarde turn into terror as he tearfully pleads to be released. His cries are ignored while they let a witch condemn his soul to Coldharbour before lighting the bonfire. Everyone watches as the overly fanatical Stormcloak Jarl burns into Oblivion. Once his soul is in Molag Bal's clutches, the people of Dawnstar begin an election for a new Jarl.

Deposition of Jarl Sorli the Builder- After the overthrow of Jarl Skald the Elder, the people of Hjaalmarch are inspired by Dawnstar's example to arm themselves against both Jarl Sorli and her husband, Pactur. Together with the Hold's guards, they storm Highmoon Hall and assassinate them while the two are holding court. The Jarl's Housecarl, Teeba-Ei, declines to defend Sorli and Pactur from their wrath and even joins in. Calls for a new Jarl are made following their murders.

Deposition of Jarl Vignar Gray-Mane- Word of the uprisings in the Pale and Hjaalmarch reaches Whiterun Hold, triggering the same sentiment against Jarl Vignar Gray-Mane as well as his two nephews, Thorald and Avulstein Gray-Mane, and niece, Olfina Gray-Mane. House Gray-Mane is put to the torch as the citizens and guards work together to depose them. All four are then tied to a post like in Dawnstar with Skald the Elder and incinerated by the bonfire. Eorlund Gray-Mane and his wife, Fralia Gray-Mane are spared on account of his service to the Companions as well as their age, but mostly because they actually opposed Vignar's corruption as the Hold's Jarl. For having worked the Skyforge and serving the Companions and siding with them, Eorlund Gray-Mane is given the throne of Whiterun and declared its new Jarl. His first decree is to provide Lars Battle-Born his freedom and adopts him as his heir to the throne as Skyrim prepares for revolution.

The Western Revolution- With the sudden depositions of three Stormcloak Jarls who served High King Ulfric Stormcloak, Hjaalmarch, the Pale, and Whiterun Hold all band together to fight against the Stormcloak forces that still hold Solitude and Haafingar within their grip. The fighting is fierce, but within a month the Stormcloaks are overwhelmed and all put to the sword. Without a Stormcloak Jarl to oppose them as Jarl Istar Cairn-Breaker brought most of his army with him to fight alongside the High King in the Second Great War, nothing stops them from crowning a new Jarl of Haafingar who signs onto the Western Revolution and, with the other Jarls, declares a war against Eastmarch and the Rift. Winterhold easily surrenders and is spared the conflict. However, Eastmarch and the Rift are not so lucky as both fall and sue for peace. But their terms are rejected in favor of unconditional surrender. Jarl Laila Law-Giver of the Rift tries to escape with her royal court, but they are all caught and killed on the spot. With Skyrim free of the Stormcloak yolk, each of the Holds band together under the promise of driving High King Ulfric Stormcloak away when he returns from the war. They make contact with the Empire and the Lhotunics and join them in a plot to kill Ulfric and destroy his army following the Second Great War's conclusion in Valenwood and Alinor. The High King, unaware that he has been deposed, remains ignorant and all news that comes from Stormcloaks still in Skyrim and their sympathizers is tracked and snuffed out by agents of the Penitus Oculatus to ensure he learns and knows nothing of their pending betrayal.

---

The year is the two hundredth and sixth of the Fourth Era's Third Century. Great War has been reignited between the Third Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. Thirty-five years have passed since the last Great War consumed the provinces of Cyrodiil and Hammerfell, concluding with the White-Gold Concordat that split the Empire apart. Now recovered from the attempt on its life, the struggling Empire reunited with Hammerfell and Skyrim in a bold counter against the Thalmor and their Dominion. Together, the newly formed Alliance of Man tears its way through Valenwood, ripping the Thalmor's forces apart and severing their control on its lands. Assisted by the King of the High Marsh from Argonia, who has recently concluded his conquest of Anequina and colonizes its lands, the Alliance turns the war into the bloodiest campaign the Bosmer ever experienced. The resistance falters day by day as the Silvenar abdicates his rule to another once his Wild Hunt fails.

With nothing left at their disposal, the Bosmer enter into panicked negotiations on the next course of action. Divided from Alinor but with Thalmor Justiciars still demanding they fight back; they debate with great haste over the only two options that remain. Continue to serve the Thalmor and remain part of the Dominion or give in and sue for peace in the hope they will find clemency from the Alliance. It is a decision that has already been made by the remaining Kingdoms of Torval and Senchal in Pelletine following Argonia's latest conquest of the Kingdom of Corinthe. One both kingdoms could not make lightly but without discussion. With the final Khajiiti kingdoms removed from the Second Great War and Argonia victorious, Tamriel focuses upon Valenwood's imminent decision, how it would impact the war's continuation into Alinor, and what fate may just lie ahead.

Already, the Alliance of Man is split on what to make of the Bosmer's pending defeat. Both Emperor Ashterius Nerennius of the Empire and High King Alessan of Hammerfell agree that the province's surrender should be accepted and mercy given. Ulfric Stormcloak, the barbarian High King of Skyrim, argues against their decision in favor of driving the Bosmeri population all across Tamriel into extinction with the Altmer and Khajiit. The evil barbarian ruler declares that he must destroy everything within the Dominion to prevent the Thalmor from ever rising again. Though he stops short of voicing his racism against all of the other races in Tamriel and his beliefs of Nordic supremacy, the message is clear. High King Ulfric Stormcloak intends to invade and conquer each of the other provinces one by one in his bid to become the second Tiber Septim, the second Talos. Aware that day may come, Ashterius and Alessan are already plotting his death with a new Skyrim.

A few of Skyrim's Holds have already risen up in revolt against the usurper High King for his corruption, and they have already emerged victorious over his own Hold of Eastmarch and the Rift to its south. And the Reach is now claimed by the Forsworn once again, this time forever lost. Though Skyrim is not the only province to experience sudden turmoil from the Second Great War taking its toll on the home front. Cyrodiil and High Rock are already experiencing cracks amongst themselves, and Argonia's King of the High Marsh is nearing death's door and leaving in his wake a political drive between his monarchy and royal court on one side and the An-Xileel on the other. The Dunmer of Morrowind, despite their crippled state, see Argonia's conflict as their advantage even though they are in no condition to press it. The Second Great War is shaping Tamriel's future.

Of all the provinces, Hammerfell is best positioned to take advantage of the newly changing landscape. Unlike the rest of Tamriel, only the Redguard province stands firm in their resolutions despite being in a similar state of weakness as the other provinces. But its strength remains united under Lhotunic rule now that the Crowns and Forebears have finally put aside the differences that split them. This accord stands ready for whatever will come from the new future already emerging from the first ashes of Great War. And they will not hesitate to seize it with open arms, because of Tamriel's races, only they, the Redguards, see the future for what it can be. What it could be under their authority, a new Fourth Empire with Hammerfell as its seat of power. This ideal will become reality once it is within their grasp. However, like the three Empires before it, Hammerfell will be tested before it can begin. Angarion the Bold, the Altmeri Hero of the Battle of Roseguard, fought during the First Great War, and a Thalmor Champion of the Imperial Arena, has supposedly come back to Roseguard, where his achievements all started. Having fallen to the Warrior of Rivercrest on multiple occasions, Angarion is rumored to have escaped punishment from his former Thalmor superiors. Bandits ravage Roseguard's surroundings like never before under his alleged rule, and its defenders are divided on all fronts under a rejection of his presence due to the escalating war.

But Roseguard is not yet lost to the suspected reign of Angarion the Bold. Already, someone from Anvil is finishing preparations to depart his homeland. Sitirus, a Nibenese Imperial from the noble House of Kratian, finds himself setting sail for the Kingdom of Taneth on self-imposed exile from his family. His father, Luthiele Kratian, the County Battlemage of Anvil and a powerful man in Cyrodilic politics, has forbidden him from traveling anywhere else in Cyrodiil or to the Kingdom of Rihad across the Brena River. With those two worldly limitations on his travels, Sitirus' mother, Motira, chooses the Kingdom of Taneth as his destination for him and meets her son before he sets sail. Sitirus, unable to cast spells as he is without Magicka, a rare defect among Nibenese Imperial mages, has looked to the warrior's path for guidance in his life. Unaware of the role he is to play in determining Roseguard's future, and the fates of the Kingdom of Taneth and all of Hammerfell, Sitirus sets out with his departure towards uncertainty and wherever the gods may direct his fate.

---

Sun's Dawn, Turdas, 19th:

Dawn broke that quiet early morning over the highland with brightness so warm that it was like a light silken blanket. The sun's rays crested the mountainous hills the way a solitary traveler would when winding their way down the path and out over the village. As they extended west, the sun itself peaked as if stopping atop a hill to admire the view or to scan the land below and horizon further beyond as if in search of something that captivated its interest. Something it could grasp in an embrace to examine with appraising eyes and gentle hands before releasing its findings to those awakening so they could experience what the sun felt too and witness the full day ahead. The bugs buzzed and flittered about, serenading the day's arrival with the normal cacophony and pollinating flora. Animals and creatures native to the region awoke in search of hearty breakfasts while Corten Mont's inhabitants stepped out of their homes to join society outside. The village's hunters walked out into the highlands early to harvest what they could from prey as its fishermen sauntered down to the nearby lake and up the river flowing into it, some of whom took dinghies to parts inaccessible from the shoreline. Certain areas in particular were deep enough to house monsters of greater size.

The sloping hills simply looked magnificent in the dawn's early light, covering a wide area with their grasses and rocky peaks that dropped sharply. Many of which were camouflaged against the terrain itself, hidden by grass and rocks viewed at certain angles. Passerby ignorant to the cruel deception would often fall off and suffer injuries or even death depending on how they had fallen and how deep the plummet was. Even natives of the region had to be careful despite knowing these traps well enough to be familiar with where they could be found. The danger of falling from heights was not the only thing to worry about. Some predatory carnivores were known to attack trespassers infringing on their territory, in self-defense, or to snatch a meal beyond their territory. Such beasts rivaled the local hunters as masters of the highlands they shared and called home. Packs of brigands roaming the highlands too were reported to assault travelers on the roads for loot and to take them hostage for ransom, enslavement, or worse. Necromancers in need of bodies to conduct gruesome experiments on and malevolent witches requiring sacrifices to old gods and demon princes claimed shelter in old ruins, cavernous hollows and grottos, and ramshackle shacks separated from society. Rogue mages sought power and to test it by subjecting unwilling participants to the might of their spellcraft. Thieves robbed unlucky travelers, hunters, and fishermen of their valuables, employing the land's shadows to their advantage while lockpicking and pickpocketing their way to the slowest fortunes built. Highwaymen hid by the roads, demanding ridiculous tolls while disguised as guards and wandering priests. Orcish raiders from the surrounding strongholds usually kept to themselves but could turn hostile over trivial offenses and pillaged on behalf of their demon prince, Malacath.

Locals and others aware of the wilderness' dangers could get by if properly armed or versed in the schools of magic and armored. Whereas those ill prepared fell, became a meal, a test subject, a sacrifice, got themselves kidnapped, or were robbed of their livelihoods. But if one were able to get past those perils to their safety, the rewarding view, and a chance at earning a living—regaining it if robbed—were certainly worth the effort. It was just how life was in Hammerfell's southeastern highlands, where opportunity was, like anywhere else, rife for the plunder provided they put effort into earning it. Because if nobody did, they would not be able to afford the chance to take advantage of it all. Or some of it at the very least since not everything was guaranteed to them or even theirs to accept.

The meaning of which was not lost on the still slumbering Breton lying in bed, unaware of the morning's arrival. It was not until the sunlight seeped in through tears in the filthy rag that no sane person would dare call a curtain that he stirred. Its rough texture had been just as grating as the coarse blankets covering him when he pulled it over the window the night before. The thought his hands and fingers would run over it again irritated him as did the grime that rubbed over his hands, leaving behind stains from where the rag carried it. He preferred delegating the rather simple task of removing it to the publican because she must have gotten used to it or whoever was bequeathed the room after him. Sleep did not leave so easily despite the pressing need to throw off both pitiful excuses for blankets and get up. He dreamt of his youth in Solitude, capital city-state of Haafingar, one of the Holds in Skyrim, and of making a name for himself as a merchant of goods only nobles could afford. Until the knocks at the door woke him. "Lord Diegette," the deep voice of Nachado, one of his Redguard bodyguards and guides throughout southeastern Hammerfell, called out from the other side. "Morning's here. You must get up and eat before we depart for the long road ahead."

Lywenstien Diegette yawned, casting aside the blankets and throwing both of his legs over the bedside. "Coming," he replied, acknowledging the growing stubble when scratching his chin. Blinking did not fully clear the blurry drowsiness from his eyes, so he had to rub them instead. As his vision cleared, the sight of barren wood opposite him met the gaze coming from his green eyes. It was a reminder of the room's utter lack of décor and furnishings beyond the one bed and a single chest for storing a certain amount of his belongings. Lywenstien knew it could not be helped since the room was so tiny but he griped about it regardless. The sack of clothing he brought inside with him yesterday evening sat on the chest as a makeshift substitute for a proper wardrobe. The Breton's messy black hair reached to the base of his neck and his sideburns ended halfway below his pointed ears. Wearing nothing more than a pair of black wide pants he threw on for bed last night, he stood up from the creaking bed to stretch his limbs, narrowly avoiding a few nails sticking up out of the floorboards. Though the sharp points were still embedded in the wood and it was only the flat ends protruding, he could still cut his feet on them. He turned to the door, saying, "Be out in a bit."

"Understood, sir," said Nachado as Lywenstien heard the Redguard head down the corridor towards the tavern. Left to his own devices again, the Breton's thoughts drifted back to his dream of Solitude while changing. He had been having it frequently as of late, thinking that it was because he was approaching a mid-life crisis at the age of thirty-nine. He could not blame that as the reason though, knowing circumstances beyond his control drove him from the city-state that had been his home since childhood. Since birth in fact, because his parents migrated there from the city-state of Mournhold in Morrowind years before he was born. They told him much about it but Lywenstien's memories of their description were hazy at best. Only a few anecdotes and history lessons of Dark Elven society in Mournhold stood out to him. The rest of his knowledge on Morrowind came from the Bards College, though even that part of his education was unmemorable. Lywenstien believed his parents were part of a Breton minority under Mournhold's native Dark Elf population and that Solitude's distance from Morrowind helped render the history as diminutive to Nordic culture and lore. He had never been to the province, and as he got older his musings on its history and culture faded into disinterest. The Dark Elven lands were ailing and hardly welcoming or hospitable to the foreign migrants who dared to settle and travelers who ventured onto their ashen soil. If those Dark Elves did not care for foreigners as his parents said nor taking care of their lands, why should he?

Lywenstien never needed knowledge of Mournhold and the rest of Morrowind to grow up in Solitude anyway. The Nordic city-state afforded him everything he needed from the warm furs to withstand Haafingar's nearly subzero temperatures to skills he could rely on in Mount Kilkreath. The Hold's wintery mountain range was highly prone to heavy snowfall and blizzards the same as much of Skyrim's other lands. Thick blankets of snow were often too deep and the terrain was too hard to cross and navigate since the rugged tundra and hills were steep. Even when not covered in snow and ice, they were still quite slippery and jagged. Sharp rocks and edges were often obscured by snow as was the ice beneath. Rockslides and avalanches were common in the wilderness, partly due to the bulk of snow weighing itself down. Sometimes rocks, boulders, and trees could not hold that much weight. Those dangers never posed a threat to Solitude aside from generating impassable roadblocks that took days to weeks and even months to clear. The city-state was fortunate to have been built upon the Great Arch that separated it from the wilderness even if it split the people from the rest of Haafingar. Its dangers though, were natural barriers that deterred invading armies from attacking. Including bandits roaming Mount Kilkreath in search of loot and treasure to gather either from tombs and mines or by robbing passersby on the roads and pillaging villages and hamlets. Not to mention the predators lurking about for prey to devour since anyone could be made into a meal.

Haafingar was a dangerous Hold, especially because of its dark history in the Third Era. It was ruled by Potema, the Wolf Queen, who stood out as one of the evilest rulers throughout all of Haafingar and Solitude's history. She was the ruler who started the War of the Diamond in 3E 120 which lasted until 3E 137, and throughout it she relied heavily on undead, Volkihar vampires, and demons from Oblivion itself. Her successor, Pelagius III, was not particularly evil; however, he had succumbed to madness during his reign. He was not the only monarch as a Jarl of Haafingar whose name was forgotten accidently conjured the Mad God, Sheogorath, and was granted the Wabbajack for some service the Mad God tasked him with. The forgotten Jarl had actually meant to call upon the Demon of Knowledge, Hermaeus Mora, instead for the Oghma Infinium, except the ritual went wrong and he fell to insanity under Sheogorath's influence. While not related, some people thought the Mad God was partly responsible for Pelagius III's insanity too and had been pulling the strings behind the throne. There was also Clan Volkihar despite having been diminished by the end of the War of the Red Diamond and vampire hunting in Haafingar. They venerated Molag Bal, the King of Corruption and Lord of Domination, the Tormentor of Men and Harvester of Souls. His parents also once told him Molag Bal was called the King of Rape in Morrowind according to worshippers of the Dark Elven House of Troubles and in the twelfth sermon of Vivec's thirty-six lessons. They laid claim to parts of Haafingar's wilderness for their worship and to feed upon unsuspecting prey.

The only light in the darkness was that of Meridia, the Lady of Infinite Energies, originating from the Kilkreath Ruins where her statue and beacon towered over the land. Even though she was a demon prince too, some said she confined Sheogorath's influence to just the palaces of Solitude and Molag Bal's worshippers in Clan Volkihar to their dens across the Hold. Despite the perception that she was generous, Meridia's own influence was controversial because of her other title as the Lady of Greed. It was attributed to her habit of collecting mortal specimens to both satisfy herself and for her own amusement. Despite that connotation, Haafingar's citizens generally preferred her as opposed to those two and Hermaeus Mora. Meridia was a lesser evil and a necessary evil at that, worshipped with the Divines or placated with offerings and occasional human sacrifices for favor.

As scary as it seemed, Solitude and the rest of Haafingar were where his parents had chosen to do business. They opened a shop in the city-state's center that dealt in the sale of general goods which secured the family's livelihood. The store was not impressive by any means, fairly ordinary at best. But it was Lywenstien's castle growing up, despite his dreaming big of becoming a wealthy Thane. Thanes were particularly individuals held in the highest regard by Skyrim's Jarls, granting anyone who went by the title benefits to take advantage of. Thanes received personal bodyguards called Housecarls who voluntarily served and protected them. They could be pardoned of crimes carrying bounties less than two thousand drakes. They would also receive a symbolic weapon from the Jarl's personal armory, though the decision to wield said weapon or display it as a ceremonial badge of office was up to the Thane. The only way to become a Thane was to perform heroic deeds or be a significant individual to the city-state and the Hold it ruled. Sometimes both conditions had to be met. Only then would a Jarl recognize the individual as a Thane and appoint those privileges.

As Lywenstien learned, a Thane's responsibilities varied in each of Skyrim's Holds. Some were permitted to become stewards of the royal courts, assigned to manage budgets, collect taxes, and draft fiscal policy for the banks to follow. Oftentimes, they ran businesses and owned property that brought in income from importations and exportations. Others became councilors who advised senior officers of the courts and Jarls in matters of commercial trade and diplomatic relations. The privileged few of Skyrim were even allowed to sign treaties they helped negotiate, alongside their Jarls or on their behalf. Sometimes, a Thane would parley without instruction from the Jarl or their awareness of the accord, betraying the Jarl for personal gain or for their own sake and the good of the Hold. Thanes were brought along on hunting trips throughout the Hold for business or pleasure, and to scout out the terrain for threats and places that could give them an advantage. Knowing the Hold inside and out was an important responsibility in war and peace. And they were often told to give visiting dignitaries, emissaries, and ambassadors tours of the Hold to show off its might. The Thanes could be given command of soldiers levied in the Hold's defense or to invade, and several were known to manage the war chest for campaigns. Chances to rise as commanders and generals in the Jarl's army were taken for respect and experience in battle, to grow the strength of their arms as warriors and minds as tacticians. Thanes were notable people the populace could turn to for aid when Jarls and their royal courts were busy or uncaring. More often than not, it depended on how strict, fair, or lenient Jarls were in upholding imperial law and the laws of their holds. Enforcing it all and the order that went hand in hand with law was paramount to a civilized society, making or breaking it based on how it was governed. In Haafingar, Thanes were traditionally required to join the royal court as part of their mandatory service to the Hold. There was no option to decline since Haafingar's Thaneship was as absolute as the Empire's reign. The city-state of Solitude was in fact the Empire's capital of Skyrim; Haafingar, its capital Hold, so its Thanes were under a lot of stress.

In spite of their shortcomings, Haafingar's Thanes were of value to the Hold's Jarls and its High King. It allowed the Thanes to curry favor with them and hold their ears while enabling their influence to reach across all of Skyrim. Their names carried greater weight than Thanes from other Holds. It was even said that the Thanes of Haafingar were more powerful than the Jarls and, if the rumors were true, the High King himself. Lywenstien could think of multiple examples who might have proven it because they found out how to open doors to opportunities most Thanes could only dream of. Haafingar's greatest Thanes were famous for their ties to the Elder Council and even the emperor. And, following the First Great War's conclusion and during the Stormcloak Rebellion of 4E 201, with the Aldmeri Dominion and the Thalmor. Foreign relations brought Haafingar wealth and prestige at the costs of submitting to the Empire's authority and letting Justiciars into the Hold so they could persecute Nords who worshipped Talos. The tradeoff was never fair since the Empire allowed it and most of Haafingar tolerated the exchange even though the Hold was not offered any say in the matter. Because for all the abuse it endured under the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion, Haafingar followed along as the dutiful servant who realized they would not survive without their masters' incentives. The strain on Haafingar's Nords in particular was more tenuous but they could endure like always. The Hold knew a cold peace that, although on the brink of war, felt no different from the frigid climate. Apart from the threat looming in the horizon's snowfall, they were secure.

That was until Ulfric tested those relations with his rebellion, adding much more weight to Haafingar's shoulders. The Stormcloak Rebellion, Skyrim's Civil War, started in the year 4E 201, when the evil barbarian Jarl of Eastmarch personally slew Torygg and fled Solitude and Haafingar before he could be arrested and executed for treason. Lywenstien was not at the Blue Palace when it happened but witnessed the kingslayer's raid throughout the streets. The barbarian and his cohort of thugs literally passed right by him without saying a word or bothering to register the fact he was standing there. Lywenstien remembered those moments well as each footstep Ulfric and his thugs took became ingrained in his mind. The sight of those shirtless bastards swaggering about like they owned the place, leaving the Blue Palace in satisfaction and pillaging Solitude along the way, had the opposite effect on those in observance. Instead of amazement, dread seemed to take ahold and root them to where they stood or the direction they walked. Something happened at the Blue Palace and everyone instantly knew Ulfric was at fault for whatever it was. They did not know what yet, just that the uncommunicated but shared thought was treason. The news which directly followed, coming with frantic calls for his arrest from the palace, confirmed the worst. Ulfric assassinated High King Torygg with the Storm Voice, and he not only got away with it by walking right out of Solitude and riding from Haafingar for the security of his own Hold of Eastmarch, but by pillaging Solitude en route. The Stormcloak Rebellion had long been bubbling beneath the surface and only just exploded like a powder keg. It was a declaration of war against all of Western Skyrim and the Empire, and a cue for his army to start the assault. Stormcloak barbarians poured into Hjaalmarch and Falkreath Hold from over the borders, emerging from within the dark shadows of Haafingar's wilderness. Western Skyrim was caught off guard as those mongrels laid waste to entire towns and villages, razing whole cities, and violating innocent civilians before murdering them in cold blood once their pleasures were satiated. The fighting was neither just nor orderly, and the invasion was not sudden. It was premeditated all along since the Stormcloaks were lying in wait for the rebellion to begin in earnest. The assassination triggered it. Like Emperor Uriel Septim VII's assassination by the Mythic Dawn, Skyrim erupted into chaos, instigated by a Jarl in pursuance of personal gain.

At once, the Empire ordered General Tullius of the Imperial Legion into Skyrim to put the rebellion down and bring Ulfric to justice. Within a month, Tullius led the Legion through the Pale Pass into Falkreath Hold and promptly obliterated hordes of Stormcloaks who awaited them. Then, he split the Legions under his command into four: half to head north and northwest to liberate both Hjaalmarch and Haafingar; the other to invade Eastmarch and the Rift. Of the invading Legions in Eastern Skyrim, he took control of the Rift before heading north of Ivarstead to capture Ulfric near Darkwater Pass, a village in Ulfric's own Hold of Eastmarch. It surprised no one when the terrified kingslayer lost miserably and surrendered himself to Tullius. In but one day, Ulfric was carted off to the town of Helgen in Falkreath Hold for summary execution. Although the Thalmor demanded that Ulfric be given to them, Tullius smartly rejected because he stood by his decision to have the barbarian beheaded. The Stormcloak Rebellion would have ended just as quickly as it had started.

Sadly, the pressure dealt by his rebellion was too much to bear and was irreversible despite Tullius' stunning victories. Like a horse's legs collapsing under the weight of its rider, a passenger, and the equipment it carried, Haafingar gave way from Ulfric repeatedly smashing the back of its head into the ground. His prior victories were too expensive for Skyrim's western Holds to recover from on their own and left uncertainty in the rebellion's wake. It showed how reliant they were on the Empire and what the future would have been like without its rule. Although Skyrim becoming independent would have freed its people from the Empire's misrule and the Thalmor's prying eyes, they did not know how to be self-sufficient. Without the Empire to provide for them, the food and resources they got through trade with it would have dried up in an instant. People would have been torn apart by lands ravaged by war as good men and women would turn to banditry in order to try and make ends meet in a desperate struggle for survival. The Jarls would have been left wondering how long Skyrim would last under the reign of an uncaring usurper, his total indifference towards his responsibilities, and his sheer absence of interest in how to rule and learning how to rule. There would have been no telling who Ulfric would appoint in their place if his rebellion succeeded and if his Stormcloak Jarls would do right by the people and the Empire. If he won, Skyrim would die.

His rebellion kneecapped the Jarls' authority and the Thaneship by revealing who held the real power over Skyrim. And it showed that the people were becoming wary of the Jarls' control and the Thanes in their courts. There was talk of further insurrection to overthrow a few to replace them with imperial kings from Cyrodiil. The Jarls did their best to restore faith in their monarchies, succeeding where they could but coming up short in matters only their Thanes could handle, even failing in some instances which allowed Thanes to thrive. An uneasy shift in the balance of power manifested as some Thanes conspired against their own Jarls and each other, plotting to take power for themselves. In response, the Jarls began passing laws to restrict the Thanes' influence, thereby preventing their royal courts from engaging in petty feuds that could have turned as violent as their Stormcloak enemies. According to rumor though, Haafingar's Thanes still wielded a considerable amount of influence and power even with the limits on their authority. Plenty of them served under High King Torygg in his royal court and remained loyal to his widow, so they knew how to bypass her authority if and when needed and could take advantage of loopholes that were not as offensive or illegal. Even when Ulfric eventually won the Stormcloak Rebellion and put Istar Cairn-Breaker, his Stormblade in Haafingar, on the throne as the Hold's Jarl, they could get around him with ease. Until Ulfric and Istar passed stricter laws to curb the powers of Haafingar's Thanes in favor of the barbarian usurper's own personal Thanes in Eastmarch, leading quite a number to quit Skyrim for High Rock as their power whittled away. Allowing Istar to appoint replacements from his soldiers.

The most memorable Lywenstien could recall were Erikur and Bryling. Erikur was one of the stewards, a shrewd merchant who profited from the many businesses and industries he owned, and a man who probably should not have been in charge of administering the Hold's economy. He likely pilfered from the royal coffers if his critics were to be believed and could get away with the embezzlement of funds and taxes thanks to his status. He was also the only Thane in Haafingar to welcome the Thalmor with open arms and then successfully switch sides once Ulfric took over the province, even receiving a pardon from the evil barbarian himself. Not to mention the only Thane in Haafingar to import elven weaponry from Black Marsh to Solitude; in fact, Erikur was the only Thane in all of Skyrim to do so. How the Argonians even got their scaly mitts on elven weaponry was a mystery since their province did not do business with the Dominion. But Erikur monopolized it, selling elven weaponry to the highest bidders in the Hold and the Imperial Legion. No one lifted a finger to oppose it as long as his elven weapons were just as good as or better than Nordic steel.

By contrast, Bryling owned the Rockwallow Mine in the neighboring Hold of Hjaalmarch, a single mine she acquired iron ore from. Her options on what to do with the iron ore were limited though. It could be exported for trade in its base material or smelted and refined into pig iron which elevated the price somewhat, though forging it into iron weapons and iron armor paid much more. The better the final product or its finished state, the higher the price. Her ownership over the mine was not much compared to everything Erikur owned, so it should not have been enough for her to become a Thane of Haafingar. However, Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone was Bryling's biggest client since most of the iron weapons and iron armor went to outfitting Hjaalmarch's army. Iron was apparently just as thick as blood in Hjaalmarch or thicker, and Bryling's specifically enabled her to influence and control the iron trade throughout Hjaalmarch and between it and Haafingar. She was the most vital asset to both Holds' investments in that particular trade, which made her the only Thane from Haafingar to hold Thaneship in Hjaalmarch too. She was said to be the core of proper Nordic iron.

In hindsight, Lywenstien realized he would never have become a Thane. He was a coward in part and could only do so much as a general goods merchant. But mostly it was because Ulfric's treason hastened its demise. He panicked when he realized the gravity of their situation, at Solitude being overrun by a horrific army of barbarians who would not discriminate between armed guards and civilians so they could generalize their atrocities to everyone. If he had been brave, Lywenstien would have enlisted in the Imperial Legion to fight back and retake his province from the tyranny of Ulfric Stormcloak. He was, unfortunately, no fighter and had no experience in rebellion or civil war. He was just a merchant desiring to keep himself in one piece and away from battlefields where the armies fought and sieges that would have pummeled Haafingar into the ground. He wanted out before the Legion could draft him into service to the Empire, so he packed whatever he could carry and closed up shop to flee for the safety of Cyrodiil, where the Stormcloaks would not touch him. At first, he believed they would not dare to since Ulfric was in Tullius' custody by the time he made good of his own escape. The Stormcloaks in Haafingar and Hjaalmarch took just as heavy a beating as their forces in Falkreath Hold, so the roads were clear for refugees to make their way to Cyrodiil. Although Lywenstien considered staying since the rebellion was ending, he figured it was too late to turn back then. The general store he inherited from his parents was most likely reclaimed by the stewards under Falk Firebeard. Had he changed his mind earlier, perhaps he could still present his case to Jarl Elisif the Fair and hope for the best, that she would be merciful and restore his property.

Except nobody expected a dragon would just suddenly appear out of nowhere and burn all of Helgen to the ground. And yet as unpredictable as it was disastrous, it felt a little too coincidental to be called a fluke. Ulfric took advantage of the chaos to flee unscathed for Windhelm with some Stormcloaks who had been captured with him at Darkwater Crossing and a regiment that followed Tullius to Helgen in secret to rescue their leader from the general's clutches. The Thalmor had left Helgen just before the dragon struck. It seemed as if either Ulfric Stormcloak or the Thalmor used the dragon on purpose for their respective agendas, leading many to think either party made some kind of arrangement with the dragon or had tamed it like how Tiber Septim commanded his dragon, Nafaalilargus, during the Tiber Wars of the Late Second Era. That could not be proven at the time because there was no evidence linking either one to the dragon and since Ulfric was continuing to plot Skyrim's conquest and the Empire's demise from the safety of Windhelm. Regardless, it was believed that Tullius would soon eradicate him with the might of trained Legionnaire veterans and agents of the covert Penitus Oculatus, alongside fresh troops recruited locally in Western Skyrim.

Only again, nobody thought the Stormcloaks capable of defeating the Imperial Legion. They were just a ragtag band of Nord serfs—farmers, fishers, hunters, and the like—from the Holds of Eastern Skyrim. They had absolutely no formal training in the art of war and behaved exactly like bandits, which was the same behavior Ulfric himself exhibited. The Legion had already wiped out most of his army by the time he was brought to Helgen for summary execution and escaped. The remainder was spread so thin that they were only able to fortify Eastmarch but would have been easily overrun by a single legion. The Stormcloaks' morale plummeted; desertions and betrayals of Ulfric's cause were catastrophically high as his troops grappled with their inevitable destruction. They had brought about their own ruin and General Tullius was keen to see Ulfric and his army wiped clean from the face of Skyrim. By all accounts, Ulfric and his little army should have lost their rebellion.

However, they had a few distinct advantages on their side. The Last Dragonborn was carted off to Helgen too as one of the Stormcloaks. He was a Nord like them but hailed from Bruma, the Cyrodilic city-state across the Jerall Mountains, and crossed the northern border illegally like most of Bruma's Nords who supported the Stormcloaks to fight at Ulfric's side. At first, he was viewed as just another recruit for the barbarian's army, a serf who threw down his obedience to the Empire in favor of Stormcloak banditry. Then, the Last Dragonborn slew his first dragon near Whiterun's Western Watchtower and devoured its soul, killing it permanently while stealing its power so that he could use it on Ulfric's behalf. The Greybeards of High Hrothgar confirmed he was Dragonborn on account of the blood that flowed through his veins and the soul of a dragon itself, as blessed by the Dragon God of Time, Akatosh, himself. It was the Greybeards who commanded him to destroy Alduin, though he undertook the mission only on Ulfric's orders. Although he succeeded, the Last Dragonborn was still a mortal man who could bleed and die like any other. The man inspired what remained of Ulfric's pitiful army but was never a convincing factor in recruiting more to the cause. Still, the Last Dragonborn wielded immeasurable power and could singlehandedly slay dragons to protect Eastmarch but let the Stormcloaks' other Holds and Western Skyrim's Holds fall into ruin.

Guerilla tactics helped the Stormcloaks hide throughout Eastmarch and pick off regiments of Tullius' legions in slow but steady increments. They were masters of the Hold's terrain, able to emerge from hiding one moment and slither back into cover the next. Their stealth enabled Ulfric's troops to spread out from Eastmarch and go beyond its neighboring Holds, where they could return to raiding and pillaging towns and villages. The smaller size of their squads kept them from being spotted by Tullius' best scouts and allowed them to covertly assassinate key figures of the Empire's military and its allied Holds of Western Skyrim. It became harder to pinpoint their location because the Stormcloaks recruited locally too or bribed and intimidated civilians into giving up information on the Legion's movements. The Last Dragonborn participated in a number of their guerilla attacks and surprisingly managed to destroy the Dark Brotherhood at their last sanctuary in Falkreath Hold during one of those operations. However, he and the Stormcloaks under him were not responsible for a series of particular assassinations which culminated in Emperor Titus Mede II's assassination when he was forced into visiting Skyrim to pay respects for his cousin who was assassinated prior.

The Brotherhood had the honor of building up to the deed before he slew them all, save for a lone remnant who either escaped his wrath or was not present during his assault. It was Emperor Titus Mede II's assassination that gave the Stormcloaks their true edge, reversing their misfortune and turning the tide against General Tullius and the Imperial Legion. The assassination completely shook the Legion something fierce as it was their morale's turn to plunge into utter uncertainty. It sent shockwaves throughout the province and its neighbors, rippling throughout all of Tamriel. As news spread, reactions from the Elder Council and the Thalmor were just as loud. Elder Councilors were quick to abandon Tullius' efforts and sent mixed messages on quelling Ulfric's rebellion fast or recalling him and the Legion from Skyrim because it was a lost cause. The Thalmor saw it as a chance to begin plotting against the Empire again even though they did not have the strength to try another invasion and would have preferred keeping the rebellion going so it could preoccupy both parties. All at once, Stormcloak Nords who once deserted Ulfric's causes took up arms in favor of it once more. Their reinvigoration shocked the already reeling Legion, ambushing them where the assassination hurt and leaving the Empire unable to recoup its losses. Allowing Ulfric to bring the fight to Solitude and besiege the city-state, killing General Tullius the same way he killed Torygg. Imperial authority over Skyrim had finally been overthrown; the province was independent on day one, the same day Ulfric wrapped up his total conquest of and plotted to invade Cyrodiil the next.

Cyrodiil feared for the worst but breathed a collective sigh of relief when Ulfric's invasion never came. It appeared the barbaric usurper was taking all the time he needed to get it right so the Empire would be unable to recover. But he was coming, and so were the Thalmor. Too exhausted from the rebellion and the emperor's assassination and weakened from the sudden loss in strength, the Empire realized it was between a rock and a hard place. The Elder Council believed they would be unable to stop the Dominion from launching another invasion or halting Stormcloak progression into Cyrodiil. Either enemy could have invaded any day or both would simultaneously and combat with the Imperial Legion in a three-way war for the Ruby Throne. The Empire's downfall seemed more and more inevitable day by day. Defeat notwithstanding, they realized there was no easy way out but to pick a poison. Which of the two did not matter as both killed but would slow their defeat.

By that point, the Empire had enough of sitting by the sidelines watching Tamriel transform before it and allowing the Thalmor to dictate its course. The people were fed up with the Thalmor infringing upon their lives and the Elder Council was through with decisions being made for them in the Thalmor's favor. The tentative alliance that was strained from the very start finally shattered, ending the difficult coexistence between them and allowing the Empire to end the cold, one-sided, abusive relationship. Realizing they had the advantage and that the time to strike was theirs at last, the Elder Council took every opportunity they could get to build a much greater force than that of the Imperial Legion during the First Great War. The Colovian Estates rebuilt their own armies and House Hlaalu threw in their support as well. Ambassadors were sent to rekindle the Empire's bond with Hammerfell and establish an accord over their common enemy. High King Ulfric Stormcloak and his Stormcloaks were not to be trusted but could be weaponized against the Thalmor and then betrayed once they served their purpose, provided the Empire played its cards right. The Kingdom of Wayrest in High Rock was restored when the capital was reclaimed from the pirate armada, and Ashterius Nerennius, the Knight of the Imperial Dragon who skillfully led the combined forces of the 47th Legion and Wayrest's Knights of the Rose, was made King of Wayrest and then Emperor. As the Council expected, the people of Cyrodiil and High Rock were opposed to particular reforms passed and the Stormcloaks' inclusion especially. But the opposition soon gave way to a united front.

No longer would the Thalmor cite diplomatic immunity to make the Empire back off when caught openly committing crimes against it and plotting its destruction. Their oppression had come to an end as revolution ignited into war. Justiciars fled from mobs of angry rioters spurred onward by imperial propaganda. If they could not escape, they were killed on the streets in broad daylight. Thalmor emissaries were assassinated in the dead of night while they slept by covert agents of the Penitus Oculatus and nightblades supplied by House Hlaalu and the Imperial Court. Having written the White-Gold Concordat to break the Empire into factions they could micromanage, the Thalmor were horrified to discover the same provisions and clauses were being used against them by Elder Councilors with much more superior expertise in the political arena than them. Their presentations of the illusion of peace and the belief that reinstating Altmeri rule was for the benefit of mankind, both long thinly veiled, were dispelled in an instant and cast off to reveal how vulnerable they had been. The Thalmor's attempts to undermine the Empire in secret, from shadows behind the scenes, were all for naught. They once considered themselves above its laws; once again, they found their supremacy failing in the face of human might that had not been seen since Tiber Septim beat them.

And it showed once the Second Great War was declared. The Stormcloaks' barbarism was critical to the Alliance's invasion of Valenwood as they marched alongside the Empire's Legions. By this point, the Wood Elves were losing badly and presented the impression of leaning towards surrender. Their imminent defeat spread like massive wildfires engulfing their province. It did not mean the Wood Elves lost, just that they were yet to but there was hardly anything more to add that was worth reporting. Any day now word of their defeat or surrender would arrive and everyone would celebrate their defeat. Black Marsh's conquest of Anequina, which forced Pelletine to give in, somewhat counted as another of its victories even though it was the Argonians' achievement since the Imperial Legion and Stormcloaks contributed. There was no way the Aldmeri Dominion would continue existing once Valenwood fell, nor would it ever rise again considering how much damage the province took. From what Lywenstien heard, its beautiful forests, once lush with greenery and teeming with life, were burning to ash and charred if they still stood. He wondered how the Thalmor took Valenwood's suffering in Alinor, smarting from their losses. Valenwood had always been the Dominion's weakest province due to their pogroms and the annihilation of Naarifin's whole army in Cyrodiil during the First Great War. The initial threat of them having a much stronger army that could defend the province and attack the Empire with dissolved into nothing once it was clear they could not even raise a standing army or any levies. When the war began, local Justiciars across the province tried to organize a defense but failed as they were devastatingly overwhelmed. What little resistance they raised was so flimsy and inferior that it was practically a joke and the shocking tell of their inability to recruit. They had been so ill prepared for such a massive invasion of Valenwood that they could do nothing but watch the weight of their Dominion crumble under man's strength.

Nobody was willing to stand up for the Thalmor anymore. No one had been willing to even answer their calls after their apocalyptic failures in the First Great War cost the Dominion fortunes in everything. The Thalmor treaties with the Empire and Hammerfell, the White-Gold Concordat and the Second Treaty of Stros M'Kai, destroyed their reputation as they were required to pay reparations for damage they caused. All those concessions to the Empire, Hammerfell, and Skyrim came not from the Thalmor in their capital city-state of Alinor, but from the rest of their Dominion. Both wars and both treaties left them with diminished resources that not only kept dwindling but had been since their seven-decade long silence. Their mismanagement of those resources and their misuse of said resources, coupled with what they lost, no longer had, and could no longer recover, left the Thalmor with absolutely nothing to stop the Alliance's conquest from escalating and even accelerating to speeds and lengths they could not hope to match. With Elsweyr's secession and the Wood Elves taking their deserved beating, only the province of Alinor remained—without power.

Dressed for the day ahead of him, Lywenstien took a moment to smooth some wrinkles out of his shirt. He had chosen to wear a long red shirt sown in the Forebear style with tan linens from Cyrodiil because of the warm weather. Turning back to the bed, the Breton kneeled to grab his pair of doeskin shoes from under it and slipped his feet in. He then put the clothes sack on the bed and kneeled again to open the chest and remove his belongings. The pack containing his identification papers and a journal for logging his travels across southeastern Hammerfell came first. Next came an empty flask that needed refilling for the long road ahead. It was going to take four days to reach Roseguard, Rosgard as the Redguards called it, though the small hamlet in between, Ahelis, would only take a day and a half. Although Lywenstien had yet to see the hamlet, his recollection of what Nachado said last night remained fresh. Ahelis was at the end of a path that scaled upwards into a range of forested highlands; and was comprised of just two homesteads, a mill, and a general store. There was no inn for them to spend the night, so they had to camp outside or ask one of the locals for permission to sleep inside. The hamlet was by the edge of a pond he and his bodyguards could use to refill their flasks though; however, they had to make it last because the closest body of water after was a river at the base of a canyon they could not immediately descend until they were closer to Roseguard. He was fortunate to have planned ahead and brought some flasks in case he lost one.

Lywenstien had left the inkwell back in the cart so it would not accidentally spill and get all over the pack. It would have been a disaster if his identification papers and journal got ruined. The Redguard kingdoms were just as strict as Cyrodiil's counties and High Rock's kingdoms on travel. Without his papers, he could not prove who he was and would have been deported back to Cyrodiil, unless his bodyguards could vouch for him. Also, he had been keeping track of where he went and what he purchased along the way for insurance. If he ever lost or misplaced merchandise, or if any of it got damaged or was stolen, he had to show he acquired the items in good condition and from legitimate sources. He preferred saving it for when they were on the road anyway because he could relax while riding in the cart, though bumps along the way often caused the quill to trail off or tear the pages. It was not just his papers and the journal he needed to worry about, however, for he had hidden something in the chest to keep his three bodyguards and would-be thieves from finding out. A piece of rolled up parchment was sticking out of a small crevice he inserted into the night before, where nobody else but him could see it since only he knew where to look for it. He did a doubletake at the door to confirm nobody was entering as he removed it and then again once he had it in hand.

Closing the chest and using its lid's flat surface as a desk, Lywenstien examined his finding to make sure it remained unblemished and undamaged before unfurling it. Carefully pressing both hands over it to keep the parchment flat even as the ends were curled, he scanned the treasure map before him to determine if he was in the right area. He could not exactly admire the drawing skills it took to create the map since it seemed to have been produced in a hurried fashion to mark where something valuable had been buried. That alone told Lywenstien that the drawer was in a rush and ran out of time to sketch a more refined map. Even without landmarks for guidance and the legend listing what they were, he knew it depicted the Kingdom of Taneth based on the name, the accuracy of its borders, and the inclusion of Corten Mont and Roseguard. A mark indicated where the cache was located, somewhere south of Corten Mont, east of Roseguard, and southeast of the capital. He cross-referenced it with his own map and, to his irritation, found that the area was a lot larger than the treasure map revealed. He did not know what the treasure's estimated coordinates were or what that part of the kingdom was like, nor how long it would take to reach the site, and he was annoyed that Corten Mont did not have a cartographer or a hunter who traveled that far south. As Roseguard was his next main destination along the Febun Road, Lywenstien thought there was little to do but hire one in town. Unless he was to detour in his itinerary to investigate by heading directly for the area in question at the risk of wasting his time and running into bandits or dangerous wildlife. His bodyguards may have known the southeastern settlements well, though he doubted they would be familiar with that part of the kingdom's wilderness. They never presented the impression of having gone further than the roads or the settlements' outskirts. He did not trust them to keep his discovery a secret either and even suspected them of having been there before if the treasure had not already been discovered by somebody else. Given the map's age, Lywenstien figured that was more likely.

He estimated it had been drawn sometime during the First Great War in Hammerfell, while Arannelya's army was in the kingdom. From his deduction, the person who drew the map was one of the kingdom's people trying to hide their most precious belongings from the Thalmor to prevent them from getting it all for themselves. He did not think the map was drawn when they were being routed from the kingdom. Even if they were pressed into withdrawing at a moment's notice, there was no way the Thalmor would have left behind such a vital clue to whatever they had left behind.

Alternatively, the reason why and the treasure itself could have been irrelevant to the war. For all he knew, it could have been worthless, a red herring, or a wild chase through the kingdom.

But Lywenstien had been traveling across southeastern Hammerfell for Redguard goods to sell back home in Ales. He found some good merchandise but nothing special that could potentially wow customers into buying. If he could acquire something to propel sales and net a solid income, or better yet, riches, he would want whatever he could get his hands upon by any means necessary. So long as it was legal to cross the border back to County Kvatch with the treasure and sell it there, Lywenstien did not think anyone would question where he obtained the goods and how. Although a lawful citizen of the Empire, he often cut corners if no authorities were looking over his shoulder or so long as it was within reason and moderation. He would not risk committing a crime but would try to get away with lesser offenses he could accept paying fines for if he was caught. The Second Great War made it difficult to unnoticeably raise prices above the legal limits since a lot of drakes were going to the war effort. It was not impossible, however, except that Lywenstien was not good at measuring how high to sell during a war. He was not in debt though, and paid his taxes on time, so he was able to get by just fine even though his business did not stand out. It was what prompted his expedition into southeastern Hammerfell, and he was not keen on departing with general goods no different from his current merchandise. Nor could he afford to leave empty-handed, needing at least something to show for his efforts. Lywenstien believed whatever the treasure was could have been it even as the alleged timeframe left the chances of finding it and it still being there much too low for his liking. He would have been lucky if it was there, untouched, not trapped, but openable.

Lywenstien half wished the map came with a key to the chest so he would not have to rely on lockpicks. His bodyguards had some on them and could buy more with their salaries if they ran out. Though he was not going to spend drakes purchasing lockpicks if he did not need to no matter how cheap they were. The price of lockpicks increased based on the quality and how many uses a person could expect to get out of them before breaking. If he or his bodyguards had some experience in the School of Alteration, they could cast a spell to unlock it instead if they knew the right spell. Cyrodiil's Society of Concerned Merchants even mandated those particular spells as an alternative in case lockpicks were unavailable to open locked chests that came without keys. In some cases, it was a recommendation over lockpicks and some shops even swore by the method as their preferred means. The Society also authorized the practice of enchanting keys to lock chests, plus sanctioned the knowledge of identifying enchantments and the ability to determine differences between keys, lockpicks, and unlock spells whenever their stores were broken into. Those regulations were since scaled back as optional if needed because few merchants could afford to go that far in securing the merchandise and their personal belongings, and fewer still even dared to spend that much coin on such defenses. Only the Elder Council, the nobility, and merchant lords had that kind of money in their pockets. Apparently, savings were more important than information that could be invaluable to investigating how the break-ins happened and what sort of suspects the guards had to search for.

He also wondered if a clairvoyant spell could lead him to the treasure or show him visions of its location. Then he realized it alone would not have offered much information, like how to get there and what the place could have looked like. His understanding of clairvoyancy was less than subpar, so he needed to find an expert to articulate the location fluently than some shaman or druid who did not know how to or what they were actually doing or did not speak in the common tongue.

When he stumbled upon the small chest that contained the map along the road to Stonedale a couple of weeks ago, Lywenstien just knew it was meant to be found. The way it had been obscured haphazardly suggested the burier was in a hurry, and its location underneath an obvious bush near the road implied that person intended to return. Whoever it was certainly risked discovery because they buried the chest too close to a road that saw heavy traffic between Stonedale and North Hall. On the contrary, going anywhere in the wilderness was just as obvious because most people hiding things they did not want to be found would find a spot isolated from civilization where it could be safely tucked away from prying eyes. It was also more dangerous than the traveled roads since the wilderness was full of wild predators, monsters, and unsavory characters with ill intent. The burier must have known that and made the spot look inconspicuous enough so nobody else would find it. Like anybody who did, Lywenstien had only been too curious to see what was inside. He actually popped the lid by accident without having checked for traps first, and none of his three bodyguards were aware of the find. The lucky Breton did not even know it happened at first or that he was the cause, hearing only the unnatural snap of what he thought was a small branch followed by metallic thuds upon the ground. His attention seized, he instantly found himself drawn to the chest that may have otherwise killed him if trapped. Close examination revealed it was full of dirt and had accrued so much dust that the map was hard to make out. Sieving through it anyway revealed nothing else. Although disappointed, Lywenstien knew the treasure map itself was of value as his starting point.

The chest had also been covered in strange demonic markings which implied some kind of connection with Oblivion. Like it was meant for an unholy ritual cultists performed. Or they were etched onto the chest to make it stand out and identify it as belonging to whoever buried it. Though that latter suspicion was innocent enough, going with demonic runes associated with Oblivion was anything but. Logic and common sense dictated he should have let it be but his curiosity and greed got the better of him. As did a strange, unexplainable feeling that he was supposed to find whatever the treasure was. As if something more than just the map was guiding him to it on purpose. Even though he could not identify what it could have been and the motive behind it, Lywenstien still felt compelled to find the treasure. If it even was treasure; for all he knew, it could have been garbage. But something odd told him it was not, that it was indeed something precious and worth its weight in drakes even if it was something small and of little recognized significance. It was maddening to think that finding the map brought about that feeling, making Lywenstien wonder if he was touched by Sheogorath. He certainly thought he was crazy at first but was still in full possession of his own mental faculties. If the Mad God wanted to drive him insane, he definitely would have on a whim for whatever reason. But he did not, so the Breton dismissed it as a subconscious desire surfacing. Or some other demon or demon prince directing him to acquire it for whatever their agendas were.

"Lord Diegette," Nachado's voice through the door startled him. "Food's about ready."

"Ah, coming," Lywenstien replied, pocketing the map in his pack with both his papers and journal before putting his head through the strap so it could rest on his right shoulder. He strapped the flask to his belt next before closing the chest and standing up. Turning while grabbing his sack of clothes, the Breton hurried to the door and opened it to find the Redguard man standing outside. Nachado was a well-built warrior with a study physique and a full head of auburn hair that draped down his shoulders. The warrior's blue eyes looked intently into his as if staring into Lywenstien's soul. Were it anyone else, the merchant would have felt like he was being intimidated. Since hiring the Redguard trio when he first arrived in the province, however, he knew Nachado was measuring him to determine if anything was wrong. Though he came across as daunting in his evaluation, the warrior was anything but when not in combat. It was just how Nachado composed himself outside of battle, keeping his guard up at all times while distinguishing himself at ease from a fierce calm. Unlike his colleagues who preferred light armor, Nachado wore a suit of heavy steel armor from Cyrodiil. Lywenstien had been curious about the armor's origin when they first met but refrained from asking since he realized it must have been imported into Hammerfell as per a trade agreement. The only piece of the suit missing was the helmet because Nachado must have left it in the tavern. The Redguard carried a steel shield also from Cyrodiil, wielding a steel scimitar from Hammerfell. Both of which remained at his side, though Nachado kept his hands on both in case of an incident.

The Redguard gave him a curt nod before stepping back to let his client out. The merchant simply responded with an acknowledging look as he sauntered past to head for the tavern. Nachado followed closely behind until they stepped inside so he could walk beside the Breton and point out their table. Lywenstien saw where he was directed and walked over, noting how sleepy the tavern was. Only a few tables besides theirs' were occupied, mostly by Redguards and Colovian Imperials native to the village. A lone Argonian was in attendance as well but seated by himself. Lywenstien wondered if he was the only Argonian inhabitant of Corten Mont until a female Argonian entered. The male Argonian stood to slowly walk around the table and embrace her in a warm hug, then he pulled out a chair for her and pushed it when she sat. Observing their interaction, the Breton could not help but realize they were an elderly couple and thought they had been married for a long time. It was a painful reminder of his own bachelorhood that brought back more memories of his life in Solitude. He did not marry early like his parents hoped even though others citizens his age or about it became engaged. Unlike them, Lywenstien's dream was to become a Thane and marry a woman of noble blood. Preferably one with a dynastic relation to Torygg and Elisif if he was lucky enough to make the right connection somewhere in Solitude or the rest of Haafingar. If not, he would settle for a noblewoman whose wealth and status nearly rivaled theirs. Or, if possible, was even greater.

Lywenstien was kidding himself and brushed the thought aside. He had never been able to fulfill his dream of becoming a Thane of Haafingar. And Skyrim was now under Stormcloak rule. Even as he rebuilt his business in Cyrodiil, things had never been as easy. He thought things would be, had hoped actually, but in reality, it was a challenging slog and a harsh brutality. He was naïve in thinking Cyrodiil would automatically open its doors and be welcoming towards refugees from Skyrim. In hindsight, the Breton probably should have booked passage on a ship for High Rock to try his luck in one of its kingdoms. Applying for asylum and citizenship could have been easier in High Rock than trying to get clearance to emigrate to Cyrodiil from the Penitus Oculatus. The road Lywenstien had taken through the Jerall Mountains was fraught with danger, ranging from bandits and wild predators to dizzying heights. It was one of the routes used by the Imperial spy agency to assassinate Stormcloak agents sneaking into the Imperial Province. Although that sounded extreme and radical even, he could not fault the Empire for taking its security seriously and had no right to complain since he was proven innocent. Not everyone was as fortunate to have been so privileged.

Even the reward of seeing White-Gold Tower and the Imperial City around its base far off in the distance soon proved disingenuous and of little to no comfort. At first it was not because the Imperial Palace was the first thing to immediately seize his attention. Its towering height stretched all the way up, reaching high into the sky above to pierce the clouds and touch Aetherius itself. Its structure shone in the sunlight, reflecting its rays toward the surrounding region below. Lywenstien later learned that it was due to the combination of perfectly cut marble and moonstone with meteoric iron and meteoric glass. It filled him with awe and left him speechless and stupefied, dumbfounded even by its incredibly imposing might. No matter how hard he tried to avert his eyes, White-Gold Tower held them in its tight but smooth and comforting grip from over the horizon. As if the palace was beckoning him toward Cyrodiil's capital city-state the same way a lighthouse's beacon guided ships to port. He tried to remark on its majestic beauty but found himself too incapable of properly putting his thoughts into words or even uttering a single sound. As he also learned, it was easy to distinguish Cyrodilic natives from the foreigners and adults from the children that way. He had to agree because there he was, basking in an experience of brilliance that could not be learned from any mere history lessons but had become so common to the people of Cyrodiil that it was an everyday occurrence. The ways they spoke of it were no different than taking a breath of fresh air.

He had viewed wonders in Solitude and Haafingar like the Blue Palace, Castle Dour, and the Kilkreath Ruins. While passing through Whiterun Hold, he stopped in Whiterun and took some time to admire the Nordic palace of Dragonsreach where Jarl Balgruuf the Greater ruled the Hold. Then there was the Heroes Graveyard, the colossal cemetery in Falkreath Hold said by many to be the biggest burial ground throughout Skyrim capable of rivaling Morrowind's city-state of Necrom if not surpassing it. But none of those things could even compare to White-Gold Tower. Or paled in comparison if they could or did. Skyrim, he quickly realized, was absolutely inferior to Cyrodiil in all things. He never imagined the Nordic Holds capable of ever outdoing the Imperial Province in anything and everything; they were too much of a frigid backwater to even try. Cyrodiil proved him right. By going there, Lywenstien felt the glory that was Cyrodiil, the Imperial Province itself. The Dragon Empire, Seat of Sundered Kings, Starry Heart of Nirn. Cyrod, as the Ayleids knew it.

First impressions of Cyrodiil were, to his dismay, soon fleeting at best. County Bruma was the worst he experienced because it bordered Skyrim directly. It contained the heaviest mixture of Nordic and Nibenese Imperial influences in the province. Their traditions could be seen all across the county in its culture, architecture, and religions. However, County Bruma was the one place in Cyrodiil where Nords surpassed Nibenese Imperials in demographics. It was also the coldest place in Cyrodiil because the county was a part of the Jerall Mountains between it and Skyrim. Although County Bruma looked and felt every bit like a slice of Skyrim brought to Cyrodiil for the civilians of the former, like all of the other refugees unfamiliar with its politics and racial build, Lywenstien soon realized the county was anything but welcoming. It was quite literally a miniature Skyrim in the veins of its civil war, impacted the same way by the White-Gold Concordat but smaller and on Cyrodiil's side of the Jeralls. That was putting it nicely and rather mildly, though blunt at the same time like any thinly veiled critique that described County Bruma perfectly. Ulfric Stormcloak and his causes had been seeping into the county ever since the Markarth Incident of 4E 176 when talk of his success at Markarth spurred many of County Bruma's Nordic Talos worshippers into action. His influence on the Nords sparked calls for the restoration of Talos worship and County Bruma's secession from the Empire to join Skyrim in independence, leading to riots in the streets and raids on settlements throughout the county by Nords aligned with Ulfric. Seceding in particular had long been a subject of debate ever since the Oblivion Crisis. The people were livid when they discovered that Martin Septim wanted the Great Gate to open outside their capital so he could acquire a Great Sigil Stone. Some understood why at first, though eventually everyone no longer cared because he put Bruma in danger of being destroyed like Kvatch. Their own revolts against the Empire for the right to worship Talos were the reason why the Thalmor sent more Thalmor Justiciars to the county than anywhere else in Cyrodiil. That put all of County Bruma in constant distress as everyone was on high alert or up in arms on both sides of the aisle like bickering children or some marital dispute erupting into a family blood feud. Nowhere in the county was safe from the divisions sowing war.

Refugees were caught in the middle of their crossfire since they made for enticing targets. Lywenstien lost count of the number of times he was robbed of his own drakes in addition to what he was spending just to survive. Whether it was courtiers of the royal court and Thalmor Justiciars collecting taxes, local merchants and publicans cheating him, Nords threatening to kill him for not emptying his pockets, or even pickpockets and thieves of the Thieves Guild stealing from him. He was fortunate to have not been beaten in the streets like some of the other refugees but like many did not report it to avoid trouble. Retaliation was quick to follow as he discovered, and even local guards threw salt in the wounds to add insult to injury by joining in or fabricating false crimes they arrested refugees and even local Nords for. Looking the other way actually became the least guards would have done. Everything even happened in broad daylight and directly in front of them, though neither they nor the rulers bothered taking the refugees seriously. Nor did they treat them properly. But the rulers did not go as far as public executions because the Empire would not permit that and they forbid the guards from murdering them in cold blood since they could be used as unpaid labor. It should have been a minor comfort, except their indifference to the refugees' plight might as well have been tolerance for murder and permission to perform public executions. It was the equivalent of the hangman's noose or the guillotine. Or whatever instrument of torture used to punish or illicit information out of suspected criminals, like an iron chair, the rack, the breaking wheel, or the like.

The White-Gold Concordat and the Stormcloak Rebellion corrupted County Bruma beyond recovery. Their sinister taints hung over the region and festered like diseased corpses rotting away. Both had completely eroded it until there was nothing recognizable of what people said it was like prior. Despite having been a refugee from Skyrim, Lywenstien lived there just long enough to see its sharp decline in action at a time when its plummet took a steep spiral. He was only there during the early months of the Stormcloak Rebellion to nearly a full year. Every day he awoke to the sheer agony of having to struggle against currents quite capable of killing him. It initially frightened him until he became so desensitized that he lost all hope. Then, an opportunity to take a caravan out of the county became available and he did not hesitate to sign onto it. For a brief period, it seemed as if the Divines saw fit to bless him. Although, Bruma withered his optimism so much and he heard bad things about the rest of Cyrodiil that he started having second thoughts before leaving and also during the trip itself. Lywenstien had no idea where he would end up, worrying he would either be dragged back to Bruma or wind up wanting to go back if the other regions proved more dangerous.

Still, the reluctant Breton forced himself to feel like the luckiest man to escape Skyrim and County Bruma alive. He tempered his expectations though, knowing fortune could turn otherwise. His flight from the northern province and residency in Bruma taught him to prepare for the worst. That diffidence nearly made him want to give in for the incarceration of Bruma's confining walls, where the cold city-state felt like a prison but oddly comforting in familiarity. As a former citizen of Solitude, Lywenstien was so used to the frigid weather and wintery climate of Haafingar that it made him feel right at home in Bruma despite its downfall. That was the only silver lining County Bruma inherited from the harsh reality of life in Skyrim. Perseverance and resistance to the wintery environment honed his tolerance to the cold heat, better fortifying himself to survive most regions inhospitable to many. He, the Breton who fled from the Stormcloak Rebellion in fright, stood and maintained as tight a grip on his life as he could with the power to determine his own destiny. His future was up to him and the decision to move forward or backward or to stop altogether belonged to him. Nobody could take it away from him. Though weak, it was his strength and a slight comfort that carried little hope even if anything could happen to him. Nobody but himself would even dare to blame him for surrendering, so there was that too at least. As depressing as his situation became, being of minor consequence felt weirdly soothing because he was just a lone number caught up in a conflict between big, major superpowers. The rulers cared not who was under their control or in the line of fire between them and their enemies so long as they had targets. Lywenstien was just a pawn in their game to be used as they saw fit—if they saw fit, which gave him more freedom than they had to seize for themselves. Leaving Bruma opened his eyes to the truth that the world was a lot bigger than him. He was no one, nothing compared to the majesty or might it contain. It was a wake-up call; a cold splash of water in his face that awoke him to make up his mind, showing him the time had come for him to make a choice without looking back on regrets to be left behind.

There were several times he actually looked back at Bruma while riding in one of the carts traveling on the Silver Road. Including the tall spire of the Great Chapel of Ebonarm, dedicated to the God of War after the Great War to replace Talos. It was where the Citadel of Ebonarm preached the God of War's teachings from as they spread throughout County Bruma. Their Battlelords took over Cloud Ruler Temple too, reconstructing the Blades' former headquarters in Cyrodiil to serve as their main garrison in the county. Then he looked over at the ruins of that Great Oblivion Gate to the Deadlands of Mehrunes Dagon, the three smaller gates around it, and the metallic corpse of the demonic Siege Crawler. Those were all part of another of County Bruma's historic wonders, a holy site continually blessed by priests of the Imperial Cult and the Citadel of Ebonarm and visited by everyone who came through the county or to it. Demon worshippers who revered the Prince of Destruction did too, including many Dark Elves since he was one of their testing gods. And last of all, he turned his gaze towards Gnoll Mountain and Frostcrag Spire further east, where the College of Whispers' Arch-Mage oversaw the college and a town at the tower's base where its mages could study and practice their furtive magic in secret while living alongside a reclusive Telvanni wizard.

Because despite his mistreatment in Bruma, Lywenstien had to admit he was going to miss it. He had no intention of ever returning for whatever reason despite tentatively wanting to. Though that did not seem fair to the county nor realistic, he considered just visiting after he was settled in a much safer place, after the Stormcloak Rebellion was crushed, and after the county improved.

Of those three conditions, only the first was fulfilled to his satisfaction. County Bruma did not change, sounding worse since Emperor Titus Mede II's assassination and Ulfric Stormcloak's stunning victory in succession. It remained part of Cyrodiil because the Empire managed to regain some control over its dissenting Nords with the Thalmor's aid, though riots continued to break out every so often. By then, Lywenstien calmed down once he was far enough away from Skyrim and County Bruma to no longer have to think about it. He settled in a quaint but bustling village in the southwestern Colovian Highlands called Ales, a prosperous and quite affordable place to live given his limited finances. The village was located just east of Fort Hastrel, the local garrison run by the Knights of the Hero, a knightly order named after the Seventh Champion of Cyrodiil's title as Hero of Kvatch and was in service to County Kvatch. It was also north of the Shattered Mine which was owned by a nobleman from the county's capital and guarded by his company of private mercenary soldiers. Ales was like a breath of fresh air, the first he could take in Cyrodiil since the village gave the highest measure of atmospheric peace one could find in the Colovian Highlands. Nestled in its rolling and sloping hills, the village was perfectly placed to reap the rewards from commercial ties between Kvatch and the settlements of southeastern Hammerfell. Moreover, Ales was a part of the supply run from the capital to Fort Hastrel. Lywenstien was so amazed by its affluence that it was little wonder why Ales was the wealthiest village in the county to have the largest advancement in the flow of capital and goods. Not just in County Kvatch but in all of Cyrodiil for that matter since Ales had the potential to grow into a much stronger town; and, highly likely, a more powerful city.

What was more, Ales actually had a bit of history. Before the village was even constructed, a small bandit campsite Ales was named after used to be there. It went undetected by the Imperial Legion and County Kvatch due to its size, so the place was perfect for smuggling stolen goods into Hammerfell. Especially during the Oblivion Crisis since Kvatch was the only city-state demolished by the forces of Mehrunes Dagon, and the Imperial Legion was too busy searching for the Mythic Dawn. An Oblivion Gate even opened up on the hilltop near the campsite, though the bandits there had been smart enough to avoid conflict with the demons. The campsite only became known when the Seventh Champion of Cyrodiil traveled there to retrieve a Dwarven cog. It was imported from Morrowind with four other parts to be delivered to the Imperial City's Arcane University in order to repair the Orrery. The cart carrying the parts was robbed by bandits en route after it crossed the border into Nibenay, and each part was later distributed to several other campsites in the Colovian Estates. As a result of the Champion's intervention and closing of that Oblivion Gate, the site was put on the map and built by refugees who managed to escape Kvatch as the demons and their Siege Crawler razed it. Since then, the village gained a reputation for producing quality ale as part of its namesake, offering the best campgrounds in the southwestern Colovian Highlands for hunters and anyone looking to enjoy the outdoors, its economic prosperity, and its deep ties with Hammerfell. It grew into the most perfect blend of Colovian Imperial and Redguard cultures anyone could find.

The village offered stunning views of the surrounding hills and neighboring locations. The nearby Fort Hastrel was only a quarter of a day away, so the Knights of the Hero could reach Ales in little to no time. The fortress had been where survivors of the county's prior knightly order went to regroup during Kvatch's reconstruction, so their ties with Ales stretched back to the early years of the Fourth Era. Only the most respected heroes, heroines, and knights were allowed to join their ranks once their deeds lived up to the Champion's reputation as both Hero of Kvatch and Seventh Champion of Cyrodiil. Even among the Knights of the Hero, however, only the most immaculately perfect could dream of matching their esteemed role model's strength and power. Fewer of whom genuinely thought of surpassing his might and legacy only to give up upon finding the goal beyond impossible to achieve because the bar was set much higher than they expected or realized. A lot of knights in the knightly order and many in the county not affiliated with it still aspired to follow in the Champion's footsteps anyway, so they spent their whole lives training to try catching up. Their dedication to his legacy and the county was commendable but there was simply no way they could ever hope to accomplish what the Champion singlehandedly achieved on his own. The man was just that legendary, a paragon of virtue to behold as much as he was one of Tamriel's greatest mysteries to solve. His indirect founding of Ales was also tied to plans the Count of Kvatch and his Steward were drafting for an expansion to the village. They wanted to join it with Fort Hastrel and turn the village into a borough for the knightly order's retiring knights as the count's gift for their services.

Even though that Oblivion Gate's ruins had not been incorporated into Ales proper, the site and the ruins of a second Oblivion Gate closer to the Shattered Mine were blessed daily by priests from Ales' local chapter of the Akatosh Chantry. The Master in charge of the priory sought to have both converted into a pair of historic holy sites. They claimed the Seventh Champion closed them both on behalf of Akatosh or to avenge the Divine's loss to Mehrunes Dagon when Kvatch's Great Chapel fell in the Oblivion Crisis. Both motives went hand in hand, so they were considered the same reason. The priests even claimed their closure symbolized Akatosh's victories over Mehrunes Dagon that followed the greater loss and precipitated Martin Septim's more powerful achievement. And while the ruins of both Oblivion Gates could be seen from the village and Fort Hastrel, neither was accessible to anyone who was not a priest in the Akatosh Chantry or the greater Imperial Cult.

Additionally, the small cavern of Mongrel's Tooth Cave was slightly east of Ales. Though of little concern due to its distance, minotaurs often nested there and attacked those who trespassed.

Then, there was the Sithian Stone, a particularly dangerous site to the southeast and slightly southwest of Mongrel's Tooth Cave. It was also northwest of Fort Linchal, another garrison housed and maintained by the Knights of the Hero, and a pair of Ayleid Wells in the fort's vicinity. Along with the outlines of two more Oblivion Gate ruins that were closer to Kvatch. One of the two ruins was actually right next to the Reman Rune Stone at the base of Kvatch's plateau. Lywenstien was warned against approaching the Sithian Stone by Ales' oldest historian. As the old Nord explained, it was one of Cyrodiil's seven Heaven Stones but named after the Void known as Sithis. The stone served as a pilgrimage site for the Dark Brotherhood because they worshipped Sithis, and was also where they established one of their sanctuaries in the Colovian Estates. According to runes chiseled on its surface, a hero's doom was figured in some kind of dark prophecy called the Sithian Mystery. It was unknown what that meant and which hero it addressed, if one had already assumed his role in the prophecy. But it was directly related to the Brotherhood and their worship of Sithis. That an assassin in their organization, a Dark Brother, was to be that hero and have a hand in how it played out. As much as people wanted to forget all about it since the Brotherhood was no more, hoping it was destroyed as part of the Sithian Mystery, they could not. The area all around the Sithian Stone was cursed unlike each of the other six Heaven Stones. Nothing grew there and everything present was dead. Anyone who dared step foot in its circumference left feeling sick and soon died. Almost like the Sithian Stone or Sithis itself, or perhaps a curse or hex laid on it by the Dark Brotherhood, was marking them for death so Sithis could claim their souls. While there had been no recent cases of anybody coming into contact with that place, it did not make the Sithian Stone any less horrific.

There was also the Ayleid ruin of Varondo, an ancient city-state in the Colovian Highlands where the Ayleids were said to worship storms and stars. According to some scholars who studied Ayleid lore, Varondo was a peculiar kingdom that did not worship a demon prince. Rather, those Ayleids were said to venerate a specific demon from a Plane of Oblivion not presided over by any of those demon princes. It was not known which particular demon and which particular plane they followed. However, the scholars believed the same kind of worship or something similar, perhaps to the same demon, was found in the distant Ayleid Kingdoms of Belda and Beldaburo, located in the wild rainforests of Cyrodiil's Heartlands and the Gold Coast respectively. Versa Baalim too to some degree from what a few of those scholars suggested; although that Ayleid kingdom was one of the ones dedicated to Mehrunes Dagon, so popular consensus was that it was unrelated. Though its elusive history intrigued him and the ruin was quite breathtaking to behold at dawn and sunset, Lywenstien was advised to stay away because Varondo was inhabited by a coven of witches who, while not obviously hostile, were not friendly either, and used the ruin for their own storm worship.

Of course, none of those sights were as majestic as the city-state of Kvatch rebuilt upon its mountainous plateau from where it could command and overlook the surrounding county. Kvatch was definitely the most impervious of Cyrodiil's city-states given its two layers of city walls which protected two of its layers. Farms, vineyards, and breweries were the main attractions of the outer layer outside the walls, contributing to Kvatch's strong economy. Homes, inns, chapels, guildhalls, and shops were just as accessible and affordable in that layer as they were inside the second layer, surrounding the plateau with a grand arena at its base but more expensive housing prices and taxes. A number of structures inside that second layer were also built right against the plateau, scaling its ground as if crawling up to the city walls above which fortified the districts that made up the upper layer. Those districts were so inaccessible to anybody who lacked wealth, prestige, and political power, that, when permission was granted to step through its gate, it was only for a brief moment. Residents from the powerful districts entered and went as they pleased and had a say in how Kvatch was ruled. Those without proper qualifications and certifications lived in the lower districts. They were not allowed into the upper district unless otherwise summoned or invited by someone on the inside in need of a particular good or service they could not find anywhere in the luxurious districts.

The outermost layer and the city walls behind it could be seen from various distances. The furthest of which ended in the Abecean Sea past the Gold Coast, around the neighboring city-state of Skingrad in the West Weald, from halfway northeast in the Colovian Highlands, from well over the Brena River in Hammerfell, and the northern lands of the Kingdom of Falinesti in Valenwood. Any further and even those parts became lines on the horizon like the rest of the city-state. Though the layer past it was obscured by the walls, the spires of two great chapels to lesser gods and saints could be easily seen. Likewise, the spire of the Great Chapel to Akatosh in one of the upper layer's districts could be easily seen alongside the top of the Order of the Hour's headquarters. So too was Castle Kvatch and the small palace used by the Knights of the Hero as their headquarters. Although a few manor houses and townhouses could be seen as well, they did not command as much interest.

From what Lywenstien learned of the city-state's upper layer, its districts were some of the greatest ever built in Cyrodiil. Inhabited by powerful nobles and merchant lords, all of whom each wielded considerably hefty amounts of political and legal influence and coin, those districts easily comprised both the heart and mind of County Kvatch as a whole. Each one was dedicated to certain parts of the upper layer. There were the Champion and Hero Districts, both named after the Seventh Champion of Cyrodiil, that garrisoned Champions from the Knights of the Hero and the full order respectively. Then there was the Akatosh District named for the Dragon God of Time himself and was where Cyrodiil's headquarters for the Akatosh Chantry and the Order of the Hour were located and operated from. The Great Chapel was that district's primary centerpiece. Several other districts comprised the upper layer too, including the Goldwine District named after the prior dynasty which used to govern County Kvatch, though they were not as significant. But all of those districts were not as mighty or impregnable as Castle Kvatch itself, where the current dynasty ruled with wisdom.

It did not take long to reach Kvatch from Ales. The closest districts were half a day's travel by cart and horseback but three quarters on foot. A full day if needing to circle around to the further districts on the city-state's other side. Though Ales' citizens hardly had any need to travel that far.

Regardless of the distance between Kvatch and Ales, the city-state certainly wielded plenty of considerable influence as one of the wealthiest capitals in Cyrodiil. Even though it had fallen in the Oblivion Crisis, Kvatch recovered and achieved more than it ever gained. With a new dynasty on the throne after Ormellius Goldwine, last of the Goldwine Dynasty, perished in the destruction during the Oblivion Crisis, the capital was restructured brilliantly to take advantage of those gains. Not that Ormellius was ever a bad ruler, though he was more content with County Kvatch's regular status under the Septim Dynasty and did not believe improvement was necessary or warranted. His subjects leisured under the calm he established but fairly criticized Ormellius for dull slothfulness. Now that the Fausonicus Dynasty was in power and under its current Count Kastullian Fausonicus, the capital and its county were greater than ever before. Thanks to his predecessors, Kvatch could take full advantage of its position between three different regions. There was the West Weald, east of Kvatch along the Gold Road and governed by neighboring Skingrad. Then, those southwestern parts of the Colovian Highlands that Ales was established in. And, finally, the Gold Coast that the county became the commanding authority of after Anvil's collapse to the Thalmor during the First War. Although, the Orcish King of Sutch was negotiating for joint rule of the Gold Coast since he petitioned for county status from Emperor Ashterius Nerennius and the Elder Council. Mixed with its impervious forts and supply routes to the forts and trade with Hammerfell, County Kvatch was well-equipped to rule its lands in all three regions and defend itself better than during the Oblivion Crisis. It even absorbed the southeastern lands that were once part of County Anvil after Anvil lost its status, though was willing to part with those areas if Sutch was made a county. The Fausonicus Dynasty was even capable of negotiating toe-to-toe against the Thalmor and their Wood Elf people in Valenwood. It all spoke to how vital the county had become to all of Cyrodiil. Without Kvatch, the First Great War would have ended the Empire and ensured no human empires would rise again.

Reminiscing started to make Lywenstien feel homesick as he pulled out a chair and seated himself. He missed Ales and its tranquility; he missed the friends he made and the customers who swore by his store; he missed walking around the village and watching its surroundings. Ales may have only been his home for a few years but he felt more at home there than in Solitude. He knew the village and its surroundings better than Haafingar's capital and the Hold's frozen crevices. The community was so tightknit that everyone knew everyone's name and what they were doing, which made him wonder what they had gotten up to in his absence. Obviously farming crops and brewing ale as was the norm like any other village. Knights from the Knights of the Hero who had not been conscripted for the Second Great War needed people to keep them supplied in Fort Hastrel. Some of those knights were regulars in his shop whom he knew personally, though he had not seen many of them since they went into Valenwood. Nor would he ever see some of them again; several died in battle against the Thalmor and their less than meager forces. Even priests he knew in the Akatosh Chantry and the Order of the Hour signed on as part of the Imperial Cult's contribution to the war effort and to restore Akatosh worship in the Wood Elven province. All the Imperial Cult's temples were for each of their respective Divines. No doubt the Alliance of Man's soon-to-be victory over Valenwood would dominate conversation once it fell. It was all everybody spoke of since the tide easily turned in the Alliance's favor from the start. Besides everything else happening at home.

"Slept well?" Kellek, one of the other three Redguard bodyguards, inquired, his lean figure slumping back into his chair for relaxation. Tobacco scented smoke bellowed from a wooden pipe in his mouth that he only removed whenever taking a sip of his beverage. Lywenstien did not know what alcoholic drink Kellek had ordered but chose not to ask since he would be having tea instead. The second Redguard was already fully attired in a suit of light chainmail armor fashioned by one of Rihad's blacksmiths. A light iron shield and a steel war axe both of Ra Gadan design rested up against the back legs of his chair. Although his green eyes made no contact with either Nachado's or Lywenstien's, he knew they were there and pushed the former's steel Cyrodilic helmet towards him which the other Redguard sellsword claimed while pulling out his own chair and sitting down.

"Fairly," the Breton merchant replied, noting Dinell was not there. He did not know where the third bodyguard went, but figured he was either sleeping in or stepped out to check on the cart. Figuring he did not need to share his reminiscence with either of them or Dinell, he kept his answer at that but chose to voice his inquiry. "Where's Dinell? Shouldn't he be here with the two of you?"

"At the cart," Kellek confirmed his second guess. "Wanted to make sure nobody took it."

"Or stole anything from it," Nachado added.

Lywenstien gave a curt grunt of approval, appreciating Dinell's initiative. He doubted that somebody could have made off with the entire cart since they and some of Corten Mont's residents would have heard its wheels. But the Redguard goods he already purchased before arriving in the village along with the several bags of drakes stored with them were fair game thieves could snatch.

"I hear the Thieves Guild's been less active in the Kingdom of Taneth," said Kellek. It was pure coincidence he brought it up since Lywenstien was wondering if the guild might raid his cart.

"Surprising," Nachado responded. "Thought they'd be thrilled with the war going on."

"Must be because of the bandits," the lightly armored bodyguard theorized. "There's been some talk among the villagers that brigands have been staking claim to its lands for quite a while."

"That's to be expected with the war," the heavily armored Redguard concurred. "Now that places aren't as defended, they're free to take whatever they want with less hassle from the guards. Until the king brings his army back to reinforce order and chase them back into the highlands once the war's over. I wouldn't count on him to give pursuit though; the wilderness is outside the guards' reach and they're hardly ever eager to take the fight that far. Why bother when they're not trained to? They can't even find out where the Thieves Guild's gone into hiding in their own settlements."

"You give them too much flak, Nachado," Kellek disagreed. "Maybe they're not too bright or haven't seen the kind of fights we've gotten ourselves into, I'll admit. But the guards in Taneth found out the guild's not only gone quiet in their kingdom but are gone period. They've hightailed it out of there like when High Rock's thieves escaped Wayrest when the capital fell to the corsairs."

"Have there been any such takeovers in Hammerfell?" Nachado countered. Because Kellek had no answer except for shrugging, he went on, "Besides, that was over in the Iliac Bay. Wayrest was unprepared for such a large fleet. That kind of power would need to bypass Rihad's kingdom to threaten Taneth. Even if it did, there's no way they'd take Taneth. It's too impervious for them."

"There's the war," the other Redguard used his own point against him.

"Doesn't mean Taneth would fall to bandits," Nachado argued. "It's a fortified city-state."

Lywenstien sighed as he listened, saying, "Am I going to have to reconsider my itinerary?"

"Depends," Nachado answered honestly. "We might find ourselves outnumbered."

The Breton scratched his chin as he thought about it. When he first started this journey into Hammerfell, he expected there would be some trouble along the way. He was safer around Stonemoor because of its proximity to the border and in relation to his own home village. Although North Hall was deeper into southeastern Hammerfell and therefore further from the safety afforded by being near a capital city-state, the town was strong enough to withstand attacks and hold ground. Lywenstien could not say the same about Stonedale because of a sudden raid by Reachmen he just narrowly avoided right as its guards were driving the Reachmen off. Nor halfway north of Vulkneu Town when he tried his luck against reports of monsters roaming the area. He rested a hand against his pack, taking the treasure map into consideration alongside his itinerary and papers. Lywenstien was making the complete loop from Stonemoor to Rihad before returning home to Ales. The only destinations left were Roseguard, Chaseguard, and Rihad. "What are our chances?" he asked both of them. "Think we might make it to Roseguard if don't encounter any of the bandits on the way?"

"Maybe," Kellek tilted his head in thought. "If we're lucky. But don't count on it just yet."

Lywenstien quietly evaluated his itinerary, wondering if it would have been better to make the return trip to North Hall and circle around to Rihad that way. He would probably need to leave Roseguard and Chaseguard off the table to spare himself and his bodyguards the danger. Although, he fled Skyrim to escape the Stormcloaks and turned back in Stonedale and Vulkneu Town. While nobody would have blamed him for running away again, Lywenstien did not know if he would be able to forgive himself. "But I need to get to Roseguard," he suddenly found himself saying without realizing he had not meant to voice that. He did not know why but thought it might have been him growing a spine in that moment to even suggest they continue onward as if nothing would happen.

"Why?" Kellek demanded. "You've got enough stuff already. You don't have to if—"

"Lord Diegette's our client, Kellek," Nachado chidingly interrupted. "If he wants to go, we follow. That's what he's paying us for. Our contract doesn't say we can quit now or question him."

The lightly armored Redguard threw his hands up defensively, "Hey, I'm just saying, okay. All I'm trying to do is show it won't matter to us if he chooses otherwise. That's all. Why'd I want to pass on the chance to make more coin from him? It's all we've gotten lately." Although Kellek did not say it, it probably would be all he could earn if he got injured or killed on the job. The four of them, including the absent Dinell, were lucky to have traveled through the southeast unharmed.

"Then keep your complaints to yourself," Nachado warned. "We don't need you trying to jinx something or take over this operation. If there are bandits, we'll put them down like always."

"But you yourself said we'll probably be outnumbered," Kellek countered.

"Probably," Nachado conceded. "Or not. We've no way of knowing for certain. But it does not matter. We can take some bandits just fine even if we're a bit outnumbered. We have before."

"If you say so," the lightly armored Redguard sighed in resignation, stretching his arms up. "I've gotta say though, seems like there's always greater dangers these days. Nobody's really able to stop scumbags from taking advantage of good folk trying to earn a living while a war's raging."

"Understandable," the heavily armored Redguard agreed. "But we've a job to do."

"Yes, and you'll continue to do your job of getting me to Roseguard," their client snapped.

Kellek looked at their client repentantly, not meaning to upset him with their conversation. He made it sound like he was going to abandon them at some point even though he had no intention to. But he said nothing despite wondering why Lywenstien phrased his statements on Rosgard that way as if he were desperate to reach that particular stop on their journey. It seemed like the Breton had some ulterior motive none of them were privy to. Kellek could not stop himself from thinking something was going on but kept his mouth shut and gave their client the benefit of the doubt. He figured Lywenstien was just trying to be punctual so he could go home. He was familiar with the village south of Stonemoor and considered asking what it was like when breakfast arrived. The scent of apple cabbage stew garnished with pieces of potato bread felt soothing to his nostrils and the wine he ordered was not too shabby. Nachado's own vegetable soup smelled just as good, and so did his sides of grilled leeks and baked potatoes; his own wine was exactly the same brand and flavor Kellek ordered. Lywenstien had his own clam chowder and grilled chicken breasts with a tea imported from Taneth. Since it looked like the others were going to be preoccupied with their breakfast, Kellek figured he would let the matter slide so they could eat and then get going. Dinell had yet to appear, so his serving of cooked boar meat, cabbage, carrots, and the same wine had yet to be touched. Their fellow's absence did not worry them as Dinell soon entered, wearing the same light chainmail armor as Kellek but with a Ra Gadan steel bow and a quiver of steel arrows slung over his right shoulder. The seated trio took notice as he closed the door behind him before rushing over before his breakfast got cold. "Was wondering if you'd show before it wasted," said Nachado.

"The cart and everything else in it still there and okay?" Lywenstien asked him.

"That'd be the good news," the Redguard archer replied.

"There's bad news?" Kellek questioned.

Dinell grunted an affirmative answer through chewing his food before swallowing in order to elaborate, "Saw a Dark Elf outside the stables telling the guards he'd been attacked by bandits."

"What a coincidence," said Nachado. "We were just talking about that."

"Really?" Dinell sounded half-surprised, though seemed to expect it. "If that's the case, we should consider turning back. The way things are now, there's no way we'd be able to get through."

Lywenstien groaned, "Oh, not you too."

"Believe me, Dinell, I tried talking to them about it," said Kellek. "Wouldn't have it. Guess we'll be slogging through bandit-infested highlands to Rosgard. But at least it'll be good exercise."

"You'd better reconsider, Ly," Dinell argued, referring to their client informally instead of using his full name. He and Kellek were the only two of the three who did, and although it bothered Lywenstien somewhat, he let it slide. "We're not going to break through with just the three of us."

"Come on, Dinell," it was Kellek's turn to groan. "Don't tell me you're going to try too."

"Someone's got to," Dinell insisted. "Especially now; rumor says he's back."

Lywenstien's eyebrow raised as he tilted his head, wondering if they had known something he did not. "He?" he demanded, annoyed they kept it from him. When he hired them in Stonemoor, he specifically instructed them to tell him all about southeastern Hammerfell's dangers right then. Their leaving whatever this was out from the start only to bring it up now blindsided his itinerary.

"Angarion the Bold," Dinell answered, causing Nachado to suddenly pause during a sip of his drink. He watched as the Breton gave him a confused look. "Never heard of him?" he asked in disbelief, wondering how their client could not have known but elaborating anyway, "He's the one High Elf soldier from the First Great War who singlehandedly won the Battle of Rosgard for those Thalmor. Then headed to Cyrodiil after, won the Imperial Arena's Championship on their behalf."

"Really?" their client almost went pale at the mention of the High Elf's accolades. He was beginning to reconsider his decision to head for Roseguard when Kellek offered more information.

"Yeah, and then he lost it to some warrior from Rivercrest." He turned to face Lywenstien, "You're from Cyrodiil, Ly, you know the place, right?" The Breton nodded; from his recollection, he had done business with residents of the town on multiple occasions when they traveled to Ales. Kellek took a sip of his drink before continuing, "Would've been Grand Champion had that warrior lost. My pa was there to see it happen while passing through the Imperial City, and he claims their fight in the arena wasn't the only one between them. Warrior kept beating him every time they've gone to blows. Old elf must've lost his edge since winning that Championship for the Thalmor, so you can imagine they weren't too pleased with his losses because they executed him." He chuckled as he made a mock decapitation with a finger to his neck and a hissing sound. "Never failed again, if you get my meaning. Those Thalmor always hate it when they lose and get all childish over it."

"So…it's not really him?" Nachado asked for confirmation, despite knowing Kellek lacked real proof. It seemed like the mention of Angarion's name made him uneasy. "It's somebody else?"

Kellek extended his arms outward, "Course it is. You don't seriously think he's still alive?" He went back to eating his breakfast. "Besides, it'd be too obvious if he went back to the kingdom. Everyone over in Taneth knows him and remembers what he's done. They'd have him strung up."

Dinell considered it for a moment. "I guess," he commented unsurely. "He's but one soldier and doesn't have an army behind him this time. Or the Thalmor's favor anymore, though I'm sure they'll welcome whatever distraction he'll cause to try and get an edge in this war. If that bastard's even still breathing, that is." He was about to swallow heavily at the thought of facing Angarion if they somehow ran into him, then evaluated otherwise as Kellek did. "Then again, maybe the guy's all washed up since his losses if he's not what he used to be anymore. Or he's dead and it's someone wearing his name to instill fear. But even if it's truly him, hopefully he's someone else's problem."

"Now you're getting it," his fellow lightly armored Redguard praised.

"No…" Nachado grimaced, somewhat surprising them. "You're not. The Angarion I know would never falter like that. There's a reason why his people call him the Bold. The man is one of the most tenacious warriors ever trained by the Thalmor. His name was so fearsome it rivaled that of Naarifin and Arannelya's themselves, and they were the lead generals." He leaned closer, taking a sip of his wine which seemed to make him look more intimidating. "Just imagine a colossal army besieging a town that would normally fall but stood strong, nonetheless. Picture Arannelya making her attempt to wrest it from Taneth and an intrepid High Elf fighting on the front lines by charging into battle and scaling walls a normal High Elf soldier would never be able to climb without using a ladder. Consider the numbers he was up against while atop that town's walls. A normal High Elf would've paled in fright and died instantly." He cast a hard look at his fellow mercenaries, giving them the impression of a hardened veteran who had been there to see it in person. "That Angarion was no normal High Elf. He was a trained warrior like no other whose skills with mace and shield were beyond unparalleled." Then he looked at Lywenstien, "With his mace, he crushed Rosgard's protectors almost like they were nothing. With his shield and armor, their weapons broke like twigs or bounced off without leaving a single scratch, like he was reflecting or even absorbing the blows. To him, the Battle of Rosgard was just the daily grind; he was right on schedule, working without even so much as breaking a sweat. But to the town's defenders, he was a live battering ram casually walking right up to their walls in the heat of battle and climbing to the top to smash through those walls from above instead of having to go through them. Almost like he was not even mortal." The heavily armored Redguard sat back as Lywenstien and Dinell exchanged nervous looks, picturing themselves at the battle with the High Elf himself fighting on the walls, seeming to meet their gaze.

"But that was decades ago during the First Great War," Kellek pointed out. "The man's no Hero of the Battle of Rosgard anymore. He's either rotting in a grave or plotting somewhere else. Just because he could do those things once doesn't mean he'll be able to do them again. Especially in Taneth since he knows he'll get caught." He pushed his plate and bowl forward once he finished eating but kept his bottle since there was some wine left for him to finish. "I gotta say, Nachado, I didn't expect you of all people to think twice about some High Elf soldier like that Angarion. You saw him do those things firsthand?" Though he could have smirked, he chose not to out of respect.

Nachado took a deep breath. "No…" he admitted, almost looking ashamed. "But I heard."

"You heard," Kellek parroted for emphasis. "Heard isn't enough."

"Says the man who seemed to try convincing our client to turn back," Nachado countered.

"Again, I was just saying," Kellek reiterated.

Lywenstien leaned back in his chair, not wanting to get involved in a debate with either of them and Dinell. "He's right," he sided with the lightly armored warrior. "You make a strong case, Nachado, but I need solid evidence. Unless I find otherwise, we're staying course and that's final." He took another sip of his tea, then set the mug down decisively. "I make the decisions here, boys, and I'll not be scared of some bandits who think they've got what it takes to overthrow a kingdom."

"You're actually going through with this?" the archer demanded somewhat incredulously.

"I am, with or without you," the Breton stated flatly. "I can always hire replacements."

"Aye, you could," Nachado admitted again. "You've got that right, Lord Diegette. Though I should warn you it'd be hard finding someone in Corten Mont who'd go through bandit-infested territory after what happened with that Dark Elf." Lywenstien's mouth opened to retort but he stopped himself when he realized the Redguard was right. He sighed as he leaned over his own empty bowl and thought it was probably time to turn back for North Hall and take the long way towards Rihad. Nachado watched him struggle to come up with a solid plan and finished his drink, setting it down on the table. Although he was not fully convinced the bandits' leader was not Angarion, it did not matter one way or the other to a fighter like him. "But I suppose we might as well see this through."

Dinell blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," the heavily armored Redguard confirmed. "We've come this far, haven't we?"

"You're determined to go if Ly says so, huh?" Kellek asked, looking at their client.

"Yes," their client quickly answered in the affirmative. Though he should have given their approach more thought, he felt like taking his chances on the road anyway. That nagging suspicion that it was actually something else guiding him seemed to be making the decision for him, though Lywenstien rationalized it as his own determination. "I'm not turning around over some silly rumor told to keep the townsfolk alert. The Breton stood up, glancing at each of his bodyguards. Mostly Kellek and Dinell for their reactions, knowing both of them must have disagreed but had no choice.

"So, does that really mean what I think it means?" the latter inquired for confirmation.

"It does," Lywenstien answered affirmatively. "We go to Roseguard."

---

All was normal as the group were setting up camp on one side of the Febun Road, listening to birds chirping while small woodland creatures scurried through bushes and insects buzzed over the roaring flame. The four of them had just stopped after taking the turn that curved northwest by about a bit, right as evening started giving way to nightfall. Lywenstien was somewhat irritated as he expected they would have made better headway. By then, it was going to take them a full day's worth of travel just to reach Ahelis. The distance between the tiny hamlet and Corten Mont seemed greater than anticipated due to the road's current state. The Febun Road was long and bumpy even though it was the main route between Corten Mont and Roseguard, so it was difficult maintaining traction. The horse nearly threw a horseshoe after stepping into a sudden pothole some ways back, almost throwing the cart over when the startled animal nearly snapped its reins in a panicked flight. Dinell promptly leapt from the cart to calm their horse and check on the horseshoe to ensure it was still there, though he suggested stopping then or as soon as possible to let the horse rest and recover from its near injury. The other two mercenaries concurred because it would have been a catastrophe if they got injured or killed in the middle of the dry forest that might have sheltered those bandits. Had their cart overturned, they would be left with little choice but to wait for aid or split up to find it. Either way, the chances of getting to Ahelis alive, if the bandits had not already razed it, slimmed to a guarantee of death. It seemed almost certain that Lywenstien was starting to regret his decision.

They continued on for another hour and a half until they made the turn, deciding to encamp there and resume travel the following morning. As they were pitching both tents and lighting up a campfire, Lywenstien glanced over at the road to evaluate it. The other roads he had been on while in Hammerfell had been just as course, though he got the feeling the Febun Road went uncared for since whenever it was last paved. It made him want to complain about the road's quality to anyone in Roseguard who would listen and demand they do something about it. It was their responsibility because the road was between their town and Corten Mont. People obviously had to take the Febun Road between both places, making him ponder why the road was left in such a state to begin with. He figured it was left as it was because it was functional enough or that this bit of infrastructure in Hammerfell was postponed until the Second Great War's end when funding would be reallocated. That, and the bandits must have done a number on the road itself while attacking passing travelers.

Still, Lywenstien could not necessarily gripe. Their slow pace had been quite steady enough for him to appreciate the environment. He could just make out the descending highlands that sloped towards the bay where Roseguard and the capital city-state of Taneth were located. The highlands in that area of the region were rockier than those around Corten Mont, including cavernous canyons which, though perilous, were said to be incredibly breathtaking. A small part of him thought about someday returning to southeastern Hammerfell when it was safer to explore the highlands. He also considered adjusting his itinerary to include the capital knowing there were more exotic Redguard goods to be found there than in Roseguard and greater glories than what could be found in a village or town. He spotted structures in the distant horizon and wondered if those were part of Roseguard or Taneth until Kellek said otherwise, telling him those were ancient Ra Gadan ruins that dated to the First Era. Lywenstien half-thought the treasure he sought would have been there until realizing it must have been the wrong location. None of his bodyguards knew what those Ra Gadan ruins in the distance were, though they were getting closer and closer to the structures' vicinity with every step. It appeared the ruins were near Ahelis, so they would know better by the end of the next day.

However, they had no time to check the place out since they were on a tight schedule. They wanted to be in Roseguard as soon as possible and could not afford to linger beyond settling down each night to camp. Those Ra Gadan ruins could have also harbored the bandits or part of the pack. Lywenstien was actually surprised they had gone the first day without being ambushed or pursued. He thought they would had a run-in by now if the bandits had not already withdrawn to those ruins, if one of their strongholds, or another encampment somewhere else in the dry forest after pillaging that Dark Elf's belongings before. He hoped they looted what they wanted or had been chased off by patrolling guards on the road, if the kingdom had enough manpower to keep it secure. Leaving them free to continue along unthreatened apart from a couple instances when a few wild predators strayed too close to the Febun Road. The constant dread reminded Lywenstien of when they exited Corten Mont earlier that morning. A lone guard on watch at the village gate was closing it in case of a bandit raid and advised him and the Redguards to remain in the village or head elsewhere. She did not seem to care much when he declined the offer and said he was heading west for Roseguard, warning him that it was his funeral and advising his hired mercenaries to consider work elsewhere.

At one point earlier that day, they passed by a dirt road leading off into the wilderness. The Breton wondered if it had been the road to Ahelis but Nachado told him it was not. They would be nearing the hamlet once they saw the fenceposts on either side of the road leading up to it. He then wondered if the bandits operated near it and where the road went. The Redguards supposed it could have led to Riverpoint but were uncertain since they did not often take the Febun Road themselves. Their best guess was another settlement in between but Nachado posited it was an ancient Imperial fort from the Tiber Wars of the Late Second Era, a mine, Nedic ruins, or an old tomb. It left them to wonder though, since they did not have the time to satiate their curiosity by averting to find out.

Once the tents were up and the campfire crackled within the ring of stones around its base, the four men sat around it to begin cooking their evening meal. It mostly consisted of apples, pears, cheese, and bread; loose food they could store in small packs on the cart and take out when hungry. The main course, however, was a pot of venison stew with potatoes and leeks boiling over the fire. An abundance of deer and stags populated the dry forest around them, so Dinell had gone hunting while the others worked on the camp. The Redguard archer managed to kill a fine stag and skinned the animal for its hide. He also harvested its venison and some more meat, plus several organs and bones. At the same time, he scouted their surroundings for signs of bandits but found none. If there had been any, they probably moved on by then and were unaware of the group's presence. Unless they were somehow in hiding, giving him pause every so often to be thorough. However, he knew bandits typically attacked openly by outnumbering their victims with manpower. Though they did know when to be quiet and how to make a stealthy approach too. It worried Dinell because he did not see or hear them and there were no signs indicating their presence. He wondered just how good these bandits were at concealing themselves or if they were lucky enough to have dodged an attack.

It was why Dinell sat with the road to his left and the dry forest's northern area to his right. Every couple of minutes he turned to look both ways in case something changed. Nachado, seated across from him, had his back to the cart to cover the archer's blind spots. Kellek sat with his back to the forest, and Lywenstien was facing it across from the lightly armored Redguard warrior. The Breton looked at Dinell on occasion while listening too but relied on them more than his own ears.

Everything seemed normal so far and nothing happened while they ate. The sun still shone even as it dipped beneath the horizon. They could barely make out its shape between the trees, but easily knew where it was. Once they finished eating their portions, each of them put their respective bowls and spoons around the cooking pot. Nachado packed the cookware into a sack and placed it by their tents for the following morning. They would have washed the cookware if there had been a river or stream nearby but would have to make do without it. As the heavily armored warrior sat back down, Dinell raised his arms up to stretch before taking another look into the forest. The four of them heard twigs and small branches breaking and rustling in the bushes but nothing stood out, so they reasoned it was the local fauna scurrying about. Kellek took out his wooden pipe to smoke some ground tobacco alongside the campfire, receiving a glare from Lywenstien as if their client's gaze was demanding he put it out. The Breton looked away though and said nothing, used to the atmospherically scented blend of burning wood and tobacco which, while awful, was reminiscent. It reminded him of the days he and his father, a smoker, would go out hunting in Haafingar's snow covered mountains on certain occasions in his youth. He let the bad habit slide, peripherally seeing Kellek remove the pipe and exhale a ring of smoke before saying, "Nothing like a warm smoke on a nice evening like this…" while staring deep into the comforting peace of their roaring campfire.

"Yeah," Dinell agreed even though he did not smoke himself. Instead, the Redguard archer unsheathed a short carving knife from his belt and picked up one of the spare branches for the fire. He kept his ears open in case they heard something off though, but figured he could also relax. As he started cutting one end of the branch into a sharp stake, an owl took off from one of the branches above them to snatch a vole running in the underbrush. The owl nabbed the meal before swooping off to another tree further in the dry forest. That looked like a signal of sorts to him, though nothing he eased up when happened. "There haven't been too many of these evenings lately. Things might be looking up for a change if the weather's this nice," he said, examining his progress as he carved.

"Hopefully things are," Lywenstien concurred too. "I'm just glad bandits haven't shown."

A low chuckle reverberated from Kellek's throat, "Probably off celebrating whatever spoils they've got wherever they've gone. No doubt getting drunk while enjoying pleasurable company."

Dinell had to chuckle too, "Heh, reminds of the woman I've been seeing in Stonemoor."

"She more attractive than whoever they've got?" Kellek joked with a laugh.

The archer nodded, "Sure is, one of the prettiest in the entire village. Can't wait to return."

"Bringing her souvenirs?" the lightly armored warrior asked.

"Been thinking about it, why?" asked Dinell.

"Just wondering if a ring's one of them," Kellek quipped, making his comrade laugh too.

"Maybe, but not just yet," Dinell informed him. "I'd like to take it nice and slow before we get into a commitment. Besides, there's no guarantee she'll take it that far and if I'll even survive."

"Yeah, a mercenary's life can be too short," Kellek understood. "But it pays well and could be quite thrilling." He exhaled another ring of smoke. "Speaking of which, I need another woman."

"What happened to the one you've been seeing?" Dinell asked even though he had a feeling he already knew which of the usual answers it would be from how long the trio knew one another.

"Rejected me for the guy she secretly cheated on me with," was Kellek's response.

The other lightly armored Redguard just grunted in understanding as Nachado spoke, "She wasn't the type to form a long-term commitment with a mercenary, Kellek. She needed somebody who was guaranteed to stay in the village and by her side. Try as we'd like, we can't fill that role."

"I'll say," the lightly armored warrior had to agree. "But one of these days I'll get lucky."

"If you live long enough to make enough coin," Nachado commented.

"Mm…" Kellek understood before turning to address Lywenstien, "What about you, Ly?"

"Me?" asked the Breton.

"Yeah," Kellek nodded, asking, "You got a wife back in Ales? Or a woman you like?"

Lywenstien sighed, diverting his gaze to the campfire. The Redguard posed it in innocence, unaware of his client's past inability to marry and how it affected him. "No…never had the time."

"What, you married to your work?" the lightly armored warrior inquired.

"Sort of," Lywenstien answered, thinking he really should have taken it more seriously.

"Some people are like that," said Nachado in understanding.

"I'm sure you'll find one eventually," Dinell tried to cheer him up. "It's not as if you'll be single forever, right? Sometimes these things just take longer for some than others—like Kellek."

Lywenstien thought about a response before determining he did not have one. Even if there was something he could say, it likely would not have been worth mentioning in company who did not know him personally or well. The conversation ended there for him while his bodyguards kept it up for themselves. His memories tuned them out again, causing him to wonder if he should have married back in Solitude and how that might have altered his future. He might have remained there hoping General Tullius would quash Ulfric Stormcloak's petty rebellion if he and his family could not afford to flee for Cyrodiil or High Rock. Or, knowing how the rebellion ended in that barbaric usurper's favor, living in constant fear for the lives of his family and praying they would not wind up on a list for one of Ulfric's pogroms against people not of Stormcloak blood. His thoughts were now wandering, carrying him through a wave of nostalgia for the Nordic capital and its Hold where anything seemed as possible as in Cyrodiil or High Rock. As his bodyguards continued conversing without him, Lywenstien imagined all of Haafingar was now much different under Ulfric's corrupt reign as High King. He could only guess what sort of illegality, criminality, and exploitation went on as legislated by the evil barbarian's decrees. A sudden increase in rustling from the dry forest's darkening shadows startled him into looking up, snapping him out of the reverie. "What was that?" he asked, nearly standing before stopping himself when Nachado motioned for him to quiet down.

"I do not know…" the heavily armored Redguard answered. "Dinell, anything?"

"Me neither," said the archer while unslinging his bow anyway, dropping the stake and his carving knife so he could take an arrow from his quiver and nock it before taking aim at the forest.

"Think it could be bandits?" Kellek asked, turning around while grabbing his war axe and shield. As he did, Nachado raised his own shield and weapon while getting in front of their client.

"Only one way to find out," said Dinell, shooting at movement in the distance. Though the archer did not believe he hit something, his attack alerted whoever or whatever was hiding to their awareness. Whatever his arrow became embedded in made a dull noise, sounding as if it penetrated a tree trunk's bark which was loud enough for them and anybody else in the immediate vicinity to hear. Dinell nocked another arrow as they waited, scanning the dry forest with his comrades to see if assailants would emerge now that their cover was blown. He lowered his bow somewhat before removing the arrow to conserve it, though held onto it while resting his hand by the shortsword on his belt. "Probably another animal catching something else for dinner," he concluded with caution.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Nachado disagreed, still keeping the Breton behind him.

"Maybe we scared them off," Kellek put himself at ease. "Might not be the bandits like I'd thought." Although he relaxed his guard since everything looked okay, he remained on alert. "They may be idiots but even they aren't that stupid. They know when to move in and who they shouldn't mess with. Odds are they've simmered down so they won't get caught in the act red-handed." Even though he should not have, Kellek put his shield down and quietly stood with nothing but his armor and war axe to defend himself with. Dinell tried to tell him otherwise but was waved off as Kellek gestured for him to be quiet. The air remained tense even though everything was otherwise normal. "We have any Night Eye potions to see what's going on over there?" he then asked of their client.

The Breton opened his mouth to answer in the negative, pausing when he realized they had not considered that at any point prior. "No…" he sighed, "I should've bought some for something like this." He cursed himself for never having even taken it into account. They were lucky the days before, though their luck seemed to run out. If they got to Roseguard, he would buy an entire stock.

"Damn…" Kellek swore. "It's not as bright this evening and we can't even see much. There could be someone or something in these trees and we won't even know until they up and lash out."

"Maybe we did startle them into running," Dinell sided with his comrade's prior reasoning.

Kellek grimaced while picking up his shield. "Well, let's hope it's not bandits," he slightly agreed, albeit dryly. "Or that they're too drunk to fight or are having a hangover right about now."

Lywenstien was about to request they stop discussing it so he would not have to worry over it as much. Then he stopped himself because that was not going to make their situation any better. He rested his arm against his pack which he kept by him throughout the day so that nothing would happen to his papers. But he also did not want to lose the map since it would have been part of the bandits' first pickings. A small part of his conscious said to get rid of it or turn it over in the hopes they would spare his life and let him go. Or to hide it somewhere only he would know to look. But he just could not bring himself to part with the map no matter how reasonable it seemed. It occurred to him just then that he might have needed to abandon that particular search until the Kingdom of Taneth was safe enough after the war. But he did not know if he could wait that long for treasure.

"If we're that lucky," Dinell concurred grimly.

"Who knows? Maybe we'll even get to watch a performance of their drunken revelry," the lightly armored warrior quipped, thinking the jest would help lower the surrounding tension a bit.

Dinell could not help but chuckle, "Heh, that'd be great for a laugh."

Kellek chuckled too, "Yeah, dinner and a show! It'd be great entertainment!"

"Knock it off, you two," Nachado scolded them, taking the situation very seriously.

"What, you don't want to share a drink or two with them while on duty?" Kellek chuckled.

Lywenstien groaned in exasperation, "Great, that'd be the last thing I need."

"C'mon, I'm joking," Kellek chuckled. "Learn to lighten up a little, why don't ya?"

"Bandits are no laughing matter," Nachado chided. "They're just as deadly even if drunk."

"They are when drunk," Kellek argued. "Ever seen a bandit on Skooma?"

"Never, and I'd care not to," Lywenstien spat.

"Ah, you're no fun for a Breton," the lightly armored warrior ridiculed him.

"Well, excuse me for being one!" the merchant snapped. "I'd rather be no fun than dead or dying in the middle of nowhere while you idiots sip Skooma with some mangy curs all night long!"

"Don't tease him, Kellek," Dinell defended their client. "Eyes and ears peeled, got it? We'll need every pair we've got if we're to keep him from winding up dead and rotting by the roadside."

"Fine, fine, sorry for trying to lighten the mood," Kellek apologized. "Be great if som—" The remainder of his comment went unfinished when an arrow suddenly became embedded in his chest. It somehow penetrated his armor and dug deep into his flesh, piercing through his heart. The sound of barbed metal burrowing through chilled Lywenstien to his core as he flinched, very nearly tripping over the log he had been sitting on when he stumbled backwards in horror. The timid man watched Kellek's body slump left as the Redguard's eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Death was instantaneous, and so were the remaining two bodyguards' reactions accordingly. Dinell lifted his bow again and nocked the arrow while looking for bandit archers, and Nachado stood to block more that would obviously come their way. Unlike the Breton, both of them were prepared to fight back. Although not scared like their client, Kellek's murder still put them on edge. As did a second arrow embedding itself in their late comrade's face which struck with such force that the body was thrown backwards into the campfire. Its flames burst outward at the surviving trio as they hurriedly avoided getting caught in the small blaze engulfing the ground between them. Though Lywenstien and Nachado were lucky to have avoided it, the lower left leg of Dinell's greaves and his left boot got singed. The heat quickly seeped through and nearly burnt his leg but he was alright regardless.

"Bandits!" the archer seethed while calling out the already obvious. He shot the arrow into the trees at a bandit Lywenstien could not see, only to miss by a longshot. A third arrow then shot out and struck him in the right shoulder, causing Dinell to stagger back a step. His grip on the bow nearly loosened, though he dropped it anyway to unsheathe the steel shortsword and prepare for a closer encounter. His blade had nearly been destroyed by an ogre they encountered between North Hall and Corten Mont the other day. It still bore some of the scratches from when the creature had tried to swipe at it with its lumbering fists, and there were a few nicks along the edge due to having swung at the ogre's exposed but albeit hardened backside. They had the funding to repair it but the village's blacksmith ran out of steel just days prior and it would take two days' work to restore the blade, which would have been too much time in Corten Mont. Unable to wield his bow because of his sudden injury, and with his sword nearly broken, Dinell ran to the cart with the others for cover. He winced as he pulled the arrow out. More arrows flew around them, some missing or embedding in either the cart or ground below in attempts to shoot their legs out. Some hit their panicking horse too as it tried to tear its way out of the reins, though the poor animal could not escape and perished when around eight struck its head. "Dammit," Dinell swore as the dying horse slumped over dead, its blood pooling towards their feet. "Those bastards have bowmen! We're getting pinned down!"

"And I can hear them advancing!" Nachado shouted. "We've gotta get out of here!"

"How?!" Dinell demanded, nursing his wound as Lywenstien risked reaching into the cart for a healing potion the archer could drink. "There's gotta be a ton of them!" The moment he quit shouting the trio suddenly became aware of footsteps from the forest behind the cart. Nachado was right about the bandits approaching, closing in on them with their weapons drawn. "They're going to surround us! We've gotta fight them off before they—" One of the bandits' arrows struck Dinell in his left calf that moment, interrupting him as he cried out in pain. He staggered, grasping at the cart and almost dropped the steel shortsword as ten bandits charged from both sides. Their assault elicited a terrified yelp from Lywenstien as he stumbled out of the way, diving to the ground to try avoiding a slash to his backside. He succeeded in narrowly evading the attack but Dinell could not get away in time. The archer's counterattack failed to reach its mark, the nearest Colovian Imperial who took advantage of the short range to disarm Dinell and shove him up against the cart. She ran a steel longsword through his chest, piercing his heart as a male Colovian Imperial buried his steel battleaxe into the Redguard's head. Lywenstien screamed and bolted into a sprint towards the other side of the road before the bandits could catch him. He looked back only to watch as Nachado tried fighting off three of the other bandits before the rest all piled on top of him and hacked at his body.

Frightened, Lywenstien whirled around while he ran into the dry forest with at least six or seven more bandits giving chase. Arrows kept flying all around him as he pushed onward without looking back, terrified that some might wind up embedded in his face. The bandits shouted to one another as they were in hot pursuit, laughing maniacally at the victim who thought he could escape their wrath. Their battle cries echoed throughout the forest, making his heart palpitate so drastically with each step that he felt on the verge of having multiple heart attacks at once in rapid succession. A sharp branch nicked his right cheek, spilling drops of his blood onto it and the ground below as he ran by. He ignored the stinging pain, cursing himself for not having run down the road to Ahelis while he had the chance—if the hamlet was still there and had not been razed by the bandits quite yet. If he had, he might have stumbled upon guards patrolling the road to keep the bandits in check. There was no way of changing course with them hot on his heels. Lywenstien and his bodyguards may have gotten away if they noticed the bandits' approach sooner, or better yet, had Lywenstien not gambled their lives on getting to Roseguard against the danger. His bodyguards would still be alive if it was not for his intentionally reckless neglect of the risks they faced taking the road while bandits were known to be about. Nachado, Kellek, and Dinell all would not have fallen were it not for him; and Lywenstien knew he had nobody to blame but himself for being so rash. As much as Lywenstien wanted to avoid taking responsibility, he felt so ashamed of himself for having caused this mess in the first place. In hindsight, he should have heeded Kellek and Dinell's warning back at the inn and turned back to North Hall for their safety instead of endangering their lives for greed.

A Nord took him by surprise just as he was passing through some trees. Lywenstien could not get a good look at him but definitely felt the wound inflicted upon his lower left abdomen. The Nord cut deep with his steel war axe which retracted as the Breton stumbled by and tripped over a branch. He cried out, pitching forward, and collapsing to the ground while his assailant approached to seize the back of his shirt. Fortunately, Lywenstien was quicker and managed to not only evade the attacker as he got back up into a run but jab him in the face with his elbow to widen his window of opportunity. The Nord shouted back at him, joining his pack once they caught up to give chase. Lywenstien whipped his head around for a quick look while nursing his wound before turning back to narrowly stumble past a tree. He could feel his blood seeping out of the fresh gash dealt to him. It sluiced down his body and into the palm of his right hand, leaking through his fingers. As much as he wanted to find a place to hide, Lywenstien pressed on regardless of how much it hurt. There was no losing the bandits and some stopped every so often to pelt him with arrows. One struck his right shoulder in the back, making him stumble again as he was nearing an opening and what must have been a path down the cliffside. He did not have time to remove it, placing his left hand against the back of his head hoping it could keep the arrows from becoming embedded. Although he knew otherwise, it made him feel a bit safer giving into his instincts so long as it alleviated the situation.

Eventually, the dry forest opened out to the cliff in front of him. For a moment Lywenstien wondered if there was a ledge below to drop down to with an overpass to hide under. Or if he could slide down an incline into the canyon at the bottom. His frantic musing was interrupted by a punch to the face when he attempted to round the path as it curved right. The blow sent Lywenstien onto his backside, causing him to hit the back of his head on the ground. He was fortunate his hand had broken the impact if only slightly, though he was now dizzy and his vision blurred. He groaned in pain as he felt one of the bandits tear his pack away while three others hoisted him onto his knees. His vision cleared to reveal the three holding him were a pair of Nords and an Orc in heavy Orcish armor. The Orc stood right in front of him, accepting Lywenstien's pack from an Argonian bandit to the merchant's horror. As the Orc started rifling through it, Lywenstien yelled, "H-hey, d-don't touch those! K-keep your grubby hands off my papers! T-that's privileged information!" Although he tried to make a break for it, the two Nordic bandits' grasp on his arms was too tight and both of them were using their strength to keep him pinned to the ground on his knees. He looked up at the pair and noticed the Nord on his left was the one he elbowed back in the forest from the blood that trailed down his face from his nose. He turned back to the Orc and watched as their chief—he was assuming the Orc led them—pulled each of the papers out to skim them for any useful information, adding, "P-put those back, I-I'm warning you!" to no avail, knowing the bandits would not listen.

"Or else what?!" the Nord he elbowed challenged, getting up close to their victim's face to make him shut up. The stench of his revolting breath made Lywenstien wince in disgust as he tried to pull back. His damaged captor was not having it and held the steel war axe to his neck. "You'll pull something like you did back there?!" he demanded, threatening, "I should just end you already after what you've done to me! You're useless now that we've robbed you and killed your guards!"

"Not yet, you idiot!" his fellow Nord argued. "We're short on prisoners, remember? We've got to get more hostages for the boss' plan to work. Besides, he might know something we don't."

"This guy?" the injured Nord questioned before scoffing. "Please." He turned to the Orc in charge. "Whattaya say, chief? Want him gutted like the pig he is and thrown to the slaughterfish?"

"If you're going to slice, cut his tongue out!" the other Nord bandit ordered. "He won't be needing that since he's got two hands. We can just get him to write down whatever we ask of him."

"Eh, fair game," the Nord with the dagger shrugged in acceptance. "Just hold him for me."

Lywenstien tried to object but could not since the one Nord seized his lower jaw. "Here."

His associate laughed nastily as he raised the weapon to their captive's mouth, saying, "Oh, don't worry about it halfling," he taunted him with a racial slur. "I'll make it quick and painless."

"Quiet, both of you!" the Orc shouted, glaring at both Nords before returning his attention to the Breton's identification papers. The injured Nord lowered his war axe to avoid getting yelled at again but kept it out for the imminent order. He kept his eyes on the poor Breton while the other Nord looked to the Orc for further instructions. Lywenstien kept looking at the war axe, not taking his eyes off of it until he caught their chief unfurling the map in his peripheral vision. He promptly whipped his head towards him, his eyes widening as he tried to object through the one Nord's grip on his lower jaw. He watched the Orc examine it for a few moments before turning to glare at him next, motioning for the Nord to let go of his jaw while he stepped forward. He gripped the treasure map tightly and held it before Lywenstien's wide eyes while demanding, "Where'd you find this?"

The Breton quivered. "T-that's mine," he begged, his eyes full of tears. "Please, give i—"

The Orc bent down menacingly. "Where did you find this?" he interrogated threateningly, slowly so their victim could fully understand the question asked, the answer expected of him, and what would happen if he did not provide it. He also allowed him a brief second to swallow heavily.

"O-on the road to Stonedale from North Hall," Lywenstien meekly responded tearfully. He could have lied to them as a modest way of getting back at them but did not because it would have made no difference. They did not appear to consider releasing him. "I-I can s-show you if you—"

The Orc regarded his answer for several moments before rolling the map up and turning to walk away. "No need," he cut the Breton off. "Kill him. We've no more need to keep him alive."

Lywenstien's eyes widened in terror as his heart stopped, "N-no, w-wait, p-please, I-I—"

But it was no use as the Nord with the war axe cut his throat before he and the other brought the poor Breton's body to the edge. Lywenstien gurgled on his blood and swallowed while it began climbing through his throat. It spurted from his mouth as he tried to babble incoherently, his words degenerating into nothing more than meaningless noise. He began drowning on it as both of them threw his body over, watching him tumbled down a steep slope before falling out of sight. The two Nords laughed in their enjoyment, openly wondering how long his corpse would last before some slaughterfish devoured it. As they turned back to rejoin the group, the Orc unfurled the map again for another look. One of the other bandits, a Wood Elf scout, took notice and asked, "You sure that was a good idea, chief? What if he really did know more? Boss isn't going to like that he's dead."

"He won't care," said the Orcish chief, still looking at it. "This is all he wants."