"General Tullius!" Came a Legionnaire at the door, saluting. He sounded out of breath, like he was in a rush. The old gray haired Imperial commander turned.
"What is it, Auxiliary?" He replied, turning to him. The Legionnaire caught his breath and spoke up.
"We found another transport carriage," he explained. "There were three dead, and the carriage was looted." The General sighed.
"Get another unit to recover the carriage," he ordered.
"Yes sir," the Legionnaire saluted, and then walked out. General Tullius ran his hand through his hair, and lazily walked over to the map of Skyrim that was hanging outstretched on the wall, ignoring the look he was getting from the female Nord Legate that was in the room with him. Tullius put his hands behind his back and stood at ease, his eyes skimming over the drawn landscape of the map.
Sometimes I get sick of this job. I have been at it for five years now, and all these Nords keep raising Oblivion. This was the sixth report of a carriage being attacked by the gods know what, and we haven't been able to dim it down. Maybe it was bandits, or maybe it was that Jarl of Eastmarch everybody is talking about now-a -days.
His tired eyes fell upon the section that said Eastmarch, then closer at the small image of a bear, and above it, it said Windhelm.
I heard of his story, and what happened at Markarth all those years ago. But I don't have the evidence to prove he has gone rogue.
His eyes had focused on the bear symbol, and examined at how fierce it looked.
From what I know, he was a veteran from the Great War who served under General Jonna. We can both relate then; I was just a young Auxiliary at the time, and I was at the Battle of the Red Ring. My Legion was the one that led the frontal assault on the Imperial City with the Emperor.
"General Tullius," He heard the female Nord Legate speak to him.
"What is it, Rikke?" He replied, not taking his eyes off of the map.
"Perhaps we should send scouts out through each of the holds," She said. "To try and figure out what is going on."
"Get to it, Legate," he ordered. Rikke nodded, and then walked out.
Legate Rikke fought alongside the Jarl of Eastmarch at one point, during the Great War. After all these years, and she is still in the Legion. Maybe I could quit this job and give the command to her; but the Elder Council assigned me to do it. Besides, the highest rank I could give someone is Legate; the rank of General is decided by the Elder Council, or Officer's school.
In the training yard, there was a Legate in full armor and was conducting a training session for unit tactics to a group of about thirty Auxiliaries of different human races.
"Remember, Legionnaires," he said to them, his voice commending. "The key to being in a unit is to maintain formation and not break it." He lifted a wooden whistle up to his mouth as he walked back and forth along the first rank. He blew the whistle once, and the first rank of Auxiliaries simultaneously raised their shields to cover themselves. They would then draw their swords and stick it out on the side of their shield. The Legate saw most of their forms as lazy, except one Nord who was maintaining his posture quite well. The Legate marched over to the Nord Auxiliary.
"Look at you, Hadvar," The Legate said, a smile on his face. ""Perfect posture and fierce sword handling." The Legate continued to walk down the rank, looking each one of his Auxiliaries in the eye.
"Look at Auxiliary Hadvar," the group, including the ones behind the first rank, turned their heads to see Hadvar in his stance. "Take note of him and how he holds his shield high, and his weapon ready to strike."
Talos knows why I decided to join the Legion several years ago. This training session was really only for review, to make ready for a possible war ahead. The other Auxiliaries barely knew how to position themselves, but hopefully the Legate can straighten them out.
Hadvar heard another whistle, and he stepped to the side, allowing the next man behind him to get in front while he slid down the row to the back. This kind of tactic would give each rank a chance to fight, and each of them to cool down if the situation wasn't dire.
I think of my home in Riverwood and how safe my uncle, aunt, and cousin are there; they are the only family I have left. I sometimes think of my friend Ralof, but then I remember that he said something about more important business that he needed to attend to and left.
The other Auxiliaries from the second rank tried to imitate Hadvar, but they really were no different than the others from the first rank. They repeated this process, the Legate blowing the whistle each time and the next rank would move to the front. Eventually it got back to Hadvar's rank, and the Legate ordered them to halt, and blew the whistle. The whole group lowered their shields to their sides, sheathed their swords and stood at attention.
"We'll take a ten minute break, and then we'll work on using Pilums," The Legate said. The Auxiliaries went about their business, but the Legate approached Hadvar.
"The General wanted to see you after this training session," he said. Hadvar was wondering what for.
A Nord man, dressed in the same blue armor as the rest of his comrades, was helping pitching up a tent somewhere in a snowy area. After putting up the post, he looked over and saw a huge gruff man in leg armor and bears skin. He was nearly balding, and his face had a nappy beard.
All I wanted was for my people to be free, to worship Talos again. But I never wanted to prepare for a war, nevertheless kill anyone. But if it's what the Jarl of Eastmarch says we should do, then I will.
The armored man began carrying crates inside the tent, each of them full of small plastic flag pieces of red and blue, along with a map of Skyrim.
We were to wait and see what the Jarl would do, and at this point it's a mystery.
When he was done, he stepped over to the edge of the camp to get a good look at the surroundings. They were located near a Giant's camp, Blizzard Rest it was called. With where they were positioned, he could make out the very tip of Dragonsreach in the distance, but barely.
The Jarl of Whiterun had responsibility over my hometown of Riverwood, and I'd hate for this oncoming war to affect that. How selfish of me, we're about to fight in a potential war, and I might go against my hometown.