The South of Tamriel was riddled with thieves, whores and sell swords. Unlike the North, they had little order. Though Emperor Titus Mede II claimed to have power over the lands, he was no longer the emperor, with no provinces to speak of, and he had little to no say in what his guards or armies did. Cities were attacked and conquered by the Forsworn, or the True Rebels as some had taken to calling them. War raged on from the East coast to the West. Of the lower three Provinces, Valenwood, Elsweyr and Black Marsh, Titus controlled Black Marsh of the West alone. He maintained an uneasy partnership with the elves of Valenwood, and sent half his army to the East to maintain said partnership. In the middle, Elsweyr, was where the Forsworn lay in wait. They grew their forces here, taking advantage of being able to stop Titus Mede's men from crossing back into the Black Marsh. They were lucky to get a raven over the Forsworn territory more often than not. Titus Mede stayed hidden in the tallest spire of a mostly toppled castle in Black Rose, of Black Marsh. It was the Southernmost city which still stood, and it was mostly surrounded by wide marshes and thick forests. The castle was large enough to house his personal guard, leaving the rest of Black Marsh to be occupies by his armies, and the remaining citizens. 'Mede is an old man, and a fool. He cannot hope to gain control of Elsweyr over the rebels,' Captain Holdin Red-Steel muttered, arms folded and leaned against the wall. He and his brother, Holfgar, stood guard before the spire where Titus slept. Holdin could see the night's sky from a large window before him, and wished he could be out with his men. Nighttime in the Black marsh was a dangerous place, riddled with rebel rogues, and the occasional dragon.
'He is no fool, little brother,' Holfgar said, quietly. 'Speak lightly, these halls echo.'
Holdin looked to his brother, and frowned. Everything about them was quite different; His brother has black hair while his was blonde. His brother was a man of education, while he a man of the brother was the bastard son of an affair his father had with a Brenton woman, who died giving birth to him. They were quite different, indeed. 'Let the old man hear me, I don't care!' Holdin exclaimed, kicking the ground. 'I am tired of playing watch dog, while my men take up arms without me.'
'they are no longer your men, Holdin. they remain in Mede's army, while you are his royal guard.'
Holdin scoffed. 'I would have never accepted this position if I had known I would be standing around all day and night.' he stepped forward and struck the wall with his fist. The pain sent a shock from his hand to his elbow and shoulder, but he didn't care.
'Funny, I took it for that very reason,' Holfgar grinned, watching his brother cradle his wrist. 'I wish you would remain silent. It will not be long until the sun rises, and we have a day of rest.' Holgar paused, amused by the anger on his brother's face. 'Standing around is awful tiresome, after all.' 'Jest all you'd like, brother, but this is not the life that was meant for me. For either of us.' Holdin folded his arms, and resumed his position against the wall. 'And what might that be, my little brother?' 'I was meant to fight, and you...' Holdin hesitated, casting a side glance to Holfgar. 'you I suppose were meant to sit in the College and practice magic all day. That's what Brentons do, isn't it?'
Holfgar turned to his brother. There were many things he wanted to say, hateful things, but this is not the first time this conversation had been brought up. Usually, it ended in them fighting about how wrong magic was, how pointless war was, and how they both hated what the other stood for. 'Silence now. You'll wake the foolish old man.'
At the top of the spire, Titus Mede listened at the door. A fool? Is that what people truly thought? If it was action the men wanted, then he would grant it to them. SIlently, he shut the door his his chambers and cross the room to his writing desk. To the west of Black Marsh, on the opposite coast, lay Valenwood. Titus Mede II's most trusted ally, Paragond, riled the few armies that swore their allegience to Mede. He, and his men, lived hin a city which sat in trees, and of wood and connected by bridges. They lived as the Bosmer used to live; Proud elves of the woods, fierce hunters with poisoned arrows. He stayed with his wife, of whom he was quite fond if, in the main house. They sat quietly at the meal table within their chamber, waiting for the chambermaid to clean the plates off. The low light of the candles made her light brown skin look excuisite. He touched her hand and wrist, skin soft as silk, and warmed by the fire in the hearth. 'Titus sent me an owl today,' he said carefully. His wife's hatred of the man made it difficult for him to speak of his work. She scowled at him, and turned to look at the fire. 'Dondre, please. I know you don't like the man, but he is the only reason we are alive this day.'
'Indeed, but I don't have to like him,' she said, and placed her hand back into her lap. She glanced to the thin curtains at the opening of the room, seeing the shoulders of the guards on either side of the frame. Like most guards who watched over them, they were Nords. 'What does he want?'
'He wishes for is to make an attack on the Forsworn,' he spoke in a whisper.
Dondre sighed, and dropped her head. 'Has he gone mad?' Paragond laughed quietly. 'Was there ever a time when he was not?' he paused, and watched her resist a grin. 'He says his men grow tired, and he fears they no longer wish to follow him. That they see him as weak.'
'So, his answer is to attack the rebels? Why does he not send his own men into Elsweyr?'
'You know he wants nothing to do with the Beast Kind.'
'And yet, we are as different from his kind, the Nords, as the cats are.' Admittedly, Dondre was not a fan of the beast men. The Khajit looked like a man fucked a cat, and came out a man-sized cat that could stand on two legs, with the worst traits of both races-the greed of men and the deceit of felines. The Argonians were no better. They were a cruel mix of a man and reptile, with the wit of a brick. However, there were no better sailors, especially since they could breathe under water.
'I had the seamstress make me a new dress today,' Dondre said lightly.
Paragond sighed as she stood from the table. 'You wont distract me from what I need to say.'
'Very well then,' she said, a grin spreading across her face. 'Watch me while you speak.'
Paragons laughed to himself, and watched her as she slipped out of her armor. She dropped it on the floor, which she knew irritated Paragond as he had it made and dyed specifically to her wishes. The dark green and brown leather matched her skin and eyes, with the sigil of their once royal family, the spider. He ignored the careless manner in which she handled her gear, as she stood before him naked. Her skin glistened in the dull light of the candles with sweat. He sighed to himself, folding his arms as she looked to him over her shoulder, a coy grin spread across her lips. 'He wishes for us to spread out our territories, and take the provinces back,' Paragons pushed forward, despite his wife's clear intentions to distract him. He watched her saunter over to a small chest hear their bed, and bend down to open it. 'He mentioned nothing of the Khajit, but I imagine he intends on buying their loyalties. Gold is the only thing they are interested in.'
'Interesting. But you never did have a very good imagination,' Dondre cooed at him, pulling out her dress. It was bright yellow, like the sun of springtime, the fabric sheer and light. As she picked it up and held it by the leather band meant to wrap around her neck, it bellowed by her side. Paragond nodded in approval as he studied her naked body. However he forced himself to stay on topic. 'Mede also stated he intented on-'
'Why is it he wants the Black Marsh?' Dondre questioned him. Paragond shrugged, leaned back in his chair. 'Perhaps it is a better place to mount an attack. But it is more likely that he has noticed the dragons favour the colder weather. In a place like Black Marsh he can invade Elsewyr, where there are hardly any of them. It has always been easy to hide in the Marsh.'
Dondre scoffed. 'He is quite good at hiding.' She spat the words out like poison as she pulled her dress over her head, and she then let down her hair. Unlike most elven kind, the Bosmer were blessed with soft, curly hair. It fell in golden brown ripples down her back, and she swept it all over one shoulder. Paragond shook his head. 'You are being awfully cruel, my heart.' Dondre simply nodded to him, knowing full well that the dress was nearly completely see through. 'Regardless, I still feel it would be smart to take back the Province from the Forsworn, and deal with the dragons as they come.'
'If it was so easy, don't you think we should have done this a long time ago?' Dondre spoke lightly as she looked upon herself in the dress, but Paragons could feel her irritation. 'Have you forgotten something important?'
'Yes my heart, the Forsworn did once greatly outnumber us, but with the help of the nords, we can force them out.' 'And then what? The moment the dragons catch wind of any organization of military against the forsworn, they will descend upon us as they did to the armies of the North! They will burn everything into Oblivion, again!' 'I will take my chances. We can be discreet,' Paragons said as he stood from his seat, headed to the writing table. As he picked up the quill, he turned back to his wife. 'I will write to Titus and inform him of my decision, with or without your support. I will be taking back the province.'
'Is that wise?' She asked him, hoping he may reconsider.
'Yes, my sweet, it is. The South Coast is already we will march on Elder Root and will cut our way North to Arenthia.'
By the time Paragond's letter reached Titus, he had already moved his armies eastward toward Soulrest of the Black Marsh. He paced silently in his private spire, cursing himself for his cowardliness. Sitting quietly in his bed was a woman whom he had purchased, and she listened to him rant.
'The battlefield is no place for an Emperor like yourself, Ser,' she said lightly, looking down to her hands. 'Like myself? What is it exactly that you mean?' He turned back to look at the young girl, furious. The girl stumbled over her words, but Titus continued speaking. 'Is it because I am old? Do I seem weak to you? The girl looked up to him, and shook his head. He wanted to his her, but felt tired of defending himself on the same subject. 'You and all the others are always whispering behind my back, I know. Alwats calling me man, an old fat fool. I'd like to see how you'd fare after your empire has fallen!' he spat the words out of his mouth as he pushed the girl flat on the bed. She whimpered, but fif not refuse or fight him. She did not complain when he tore off her clothing, or forced her legs apart. Not another whimper passed through her lips the night, not even as he forcefully entered her. She waited silently until he would finish inside of her, plant his seed and then choke on the poisoned wine she had set out for him.
'He is no fool, little brother,' Holfgar said, quietly. 'Speak lightly, these halls echo.'
Holdin looked to his brother, and frowned. Everything about them was quite different; His brother has black hair while his was blonde. His brother was a man of education, while he a man of the brother was the bastard son of an affair his father had with a Brenton woman, who died giving birth to him. They were quite different, indeed. 'Let the old man hear me, I don't care!' Holdin exclaimed, kicking the ground. 'I am tired of playing watch dog, while my men take up arms without me.'
'they are no longer your men, Holdin. they remain in Mede's army, while you are his royal guard.'
Holdin scoffed. 'I would have never accepted this position if I had known I would be standing around all day and night.' he stepped forward and struck the wall with his fist. The pain sent a shock from his hand to his elbow and shoulder, but he didn't care.
'Funny, I took it for that very reason,' Holfgar grinned, watching his brother cradle his wrist. 'I wish you would remain silent. It will not be long until the sun rises, and we have a day of rest.' Holgar paused, amused by the anger on his brother's face. 'Standing around is awful tiresome, after all.' 'Jest all you'd like, brother, but this is not the life that was meant for me. For either of us.' Holdin folded his arms, and resumed his position against the wall. 'And what might that be, my little brother?' 'I was meant to fight, and you...' Holdin hesitated, casting a side glance to Holfgar. 'you I suppose were meant to sit in the College and practice magic all day. That's what Brentons do, isn't it?'
Holfgar turned to his brother. There were many things he wanted to say, hateful things, but this is not the first time this conversation had been brought up. Usually, it ended in them fighting about how wrong magic was, how pointless war was, and how they both hated what the other stood for. 'Silence now. You'll wake the foolish old man.'
At the top of the spire, Titus Mede listened at the door. A fool? Is that what people truly thought? If it was action the men wanted, then he would grant it to them. SIlently, he shut the door his his chambers and cross the room to his writing desk. To the west of Black Marsh, on the opposite coast, lay Valenwood. Titus Mede II's most trusted ally, Paragond, riled the few armies that swore their allegience to Mede. He, and his men, lived hin a city which sat in trees, and of wood and connected by bridges. They lived as the Bosmer used to live; Proud elves of the woods, fierce hunters with poisoned arrows. He stayed with his wife, of whom he was quite fond if, in the main house. They sat quietly at the meal table within their chamber, waiting for the chambermaid to clean the plates off. The low light of the candles made her light brown skin look excuisite. He touched her hand and wrist, skin soft as silk, and warmed by the fire in the hearth. 'Titus sent me an owl today,' he said carefully. His wife's hatred of the man made it difficult for him to speak of his work. She scowled at him, and turned to look at the fire. 'Dondre, please. I know you don't like the man, but he is the only reason we are alive this day.'
'Indeed, but I don't have to like him,' she said, and placed her hand back into her lap. She glanced to the thin curtains at the opening of the room, seeing the shoulders of the guards on either side of the frame. Like most guards who watched over them, they were Nords. 'What does he want?'
'He wishes for is to make an attack on the Forsworn,' he spoke in a whisper.
Dondre sighed, and dropped her head. 'Has he gone mad?' Paragond laughed quietly. 'Was there ever a time when he was not?' he paused, and watched her resist a grin. 'He says his men grow tired, and he fears they no longer wish to follow him. That they see him as weak.'
'So, his answer is to attack the rebels? Why does he not send his own men into Elsweyr?'
'You know he wants nothing to do with the Beast Kind.'
'And yet, we are as different from his kind, the Nords, as the cats are.' Admittedly, Dondre was not a fan of the beast men. The Khajit looked like a man fucked a cat, and came out a man-sized cat that could stand on two legs, with the worst traits of both races-the greed of men and the deceit of felines. The Argonians were no better. They were a cruel mix of a man and reptile, with the wit of a brick. However, there were no better sailors, especially since they could breathe under water.
'I had the seamstress make me a new dress today,' Dondre said lightly.
Paragond sighed as she stood from the table. 'You wont distract me from what I need to say.'
'Very well then,' she said, a grin spreading across her face. 'Watch me while you speak.'
Paragons laughed to himself, and watched her as she slipped out of her armor. She dropped it on the floor, which she knew irritated Paragond as he had it made and dyed specifically to her wishes. The dark green and brown leather matched her skin and eyes, with the sigil of their once royal family, the spider. He ignored the careless manner in which she handled her gear, as she stood before him naked. Her skin glistened in the dull light of the candles with sweat. He sighed to himself, folding his arms as she looked to him over her shoulder, a coy grin spread across her lips. 'He wishes for us to spread out our territories, and take the provinces back,' Paragons pushed forward, despite his wife's clear intentions to distract him. He watched her saunter over to a small chest hear their bed, and bend down to open it. 'He mentioned nothing of the Khajit, but I imagine he intends on buying their loyalties. Gold is the only thing they are interested in.'
'Interesting. But you never did have a very good imagination,' Dondre cooed at him, pulling out her dress. It was bright yellow, like the sun of springtime, the fabric sheer and light. As she picked it up and held it by the leather band meant to wrap around her neck, it bellowed by her side. Paragond nodded in approval as he studied her naked body. However he forced himself to stay on topic. 'Mede also stated he intented on-'
'Why is it he wants the Black Marsh?' Dondre questioned him. Paragond shrugged, leaned back in his chair. 'Perhaps it is a better place to mount an attack. But it is more likely that he has noticed the dragons favour the colder weather. In a place like Black Marsh he can invade Elsewyr, where there are hardly any of them. It has always been easy to hide in the Marsh.'
Dondre scoffed. 'He is quite good at hiding.' She spat the words out like poison as she pulled her dress over her head, and she then let down her hair. Unlike most elven kind, the Bosmer were blessed with soft, curly hair. It fell in golden brown ripples down her back, and she swept it all over one shoulder. Paragond shook his head. 'You are being awfully cruel, my heart.' Dondre simply nodded to him, knowing full well that the dress was nearly completely see through. 'Regardless, I still feel it would be smart to take back the Province from the Forsworn, and deal with the dragons as they come.'
'If it was so easy, don't you think we should have done this a long time ago?' Dondre spoke lightly as she looked upon herself in the dress, but Paragons could feel her irritation. 'Have you forgotten something important?'
'Yes my heart, the Forsworn did once greatly outnumber us, but with the help of the nords, we can force them out.' 'And then what? The moment the dragons catch wind of any organization of military against the forsworn, they will descend upon us as they did to the armies of the North! They will burn everything into Oblivion, again!' 'I will take my chances. We can be discreet,' Paragons said as he stood from his seat, headed to the writing table. As he picked up the quill, he turned back to his wife. 'I will write to Titus and inform him of my decision, with or without your support. I will be taking back the province.'
'Is that wise?' She asked him, hoping he may reconsider.
'Yes, my sweet, it is. The South Coast is already we will march on Elder Root and will cut our way North to Arenthia.'
By the time Paragond's letter reached Titus, he had already moved his armies eastward toward Soulrest of the Black Marsh. He paced silently in his private spire, cursing himself for his cowardliness. Sitting quietly in his bed was a woman whom he had purchased, and she listened to him rant.
'The battlefield is no place for an Emperor like yourself, Ser,' she said lightly, looking down to her hands. 'Like myself? What is it exactly that you mean?' He turned back to look at the young girl, furious. The girl stumbled over her words, but Titus continued speaking. 'Is it because I am old? Do I seem weak to you? The girl looked up to him, and shook his head. He wanted to his her, but felt tired of defending himself on the same subject. 'You and all the others are always whispering behind my back, I know. Alwats calling me man, an old fat fool. I'd like to see how you'd fare after your empire has fallen!' he spat the words out of his mouth as he pushed the girl flat on the bed. She whimpered, but fif not refuse or fight him. She did not complain when he tore off her clothing, or forced her legs apart. Not another whimper passed through her lips the night, not even as he forcefully entered her. She waited silently until he would finish inside of her, plant his seed and then choke on the poisoned wine she had set out for him.