Chapter Twenty-Two

I had last watch that night and was watching the sun come up through the trees and shine onto our mountainside campground. The night before hadn't held any kind words or comforting touches. The only thing General Mal offered me was last watch instead of first watch so I could collapse into my bedroll. I almost refused his offer, though, due to the fact that Lugrub gave me more suspicious stares.

The others finally began to stir and we gathered our things and headed north-northwest on the slightly even ground. As we walked, I could see an out cropping of the Silverfish River in the valley to our left. Unfortunately, we encountered another too-steep hill and had to slowly climb like mountain goats, veering too far to the west, to make it to the top. The top of the hill revealed an almost straight down drop to the valley below. I stood in amazement at the sight in front of me. The Silverfish River ran through the valley and I could see more mountains on the other side.

Due to the severe slope, I wanted to argue when Mal told me to stop staring and start climbing down the drop towards the valley. By the time we had carefully treaded down the slope, it was already dusk and I could see fires burning near the River's edge in the darkening light. Mal silently pointed for us to go towards it, but seemed hesitant himself.

As we slowly crept towards the fires, a large, crumbling fort came into view with a rope bridge next to it that crossed the river. Mal stopped us a stone's throw away and lit a torch.

"This is Fort Entius. Who goes there?" A voice called from the end of the bridge. I could vaguely make out the shape of a large man in heavy armor and a full helm.

"General Sintav," Mal informed him, causing my heart to skip a beat in fear. He motioned for us to follow as he neared the man. When he reached him he handed him a Septim and the man stood down.

"What just happened," I whispered to him as we crossed the bridge.

"Fort Entius is in our territory. Those are our men. He knew I was on his side because I handed him a bit of coin with a special engraving on the side stamped with the dragon."

I was rather impressed with the organization of the White-Gold Rebellion. When I first learned of them, I halfway expected them to be a bumbling group of half-cocked fighters. Little did I know it was a fully developed underground organization of highly skilled people in multiple areas of expertise.

Instead of continuing on the path that the bridge let out on, Mal has us circle around the old fort and head north. We deviate from our heading on occasion in order to stay on top of the slopes because they could be far too steep to climb up or down on. Once we finally reach the top of a large ridge, we follow it north. I can't help but be rendered awe struck again as tall mountains can be seen past valleys on either side of us. I can even see the circular walls of the Imperial City from here!

"Emi," said Mal to get my attention. I follow his gesture forwards to be met with the site of a huge Rebellion camp. We had finally made it to Boethia Camp.

I quickly realized how utterly perfect this camp was. You could see anything and anyone coming for a long ways. The camp is set up along a thin ridge so only a couple small tents or a table can be set up on each side of the tiny path that goes through the center, allowing for it to already be set up in a defensive way. There were low lit fires with high rock walls around them and spits hanging above all through the camp. The smell of the roasting meat was intoxicating.

"This is amazing," I gasped.

"This is war," the General corrected me in a stern voice before heading through the camp to the largest tent.

Seeing the hurt that I couldn't keep off my face, Ormvard gave me a hard pat on my shoulder and said, "Don't mind him; he's only trying to cover up his nerves."

"Where am I supposed to go? To sleep, I mean," I asked, feeling my own nerves twist my gut.

"Lugrub and I will be following Mal and taking the previous Legates' tents. You should probably stick close for now until we can find you a free bed." He smiled and then added, "I'd at least feel more comfortable if I could see who has tents near you." I smiled at my Nord protector and followed him through the long camp.

Some of the soldiers had already settled in for the night, but most were sitting up eating and drinking. I was relieved to see a descent amount of women in uniform mixed in amongst the men, though they tended to get extra attention and have men circling around them. I didn't feel I would have that issue though; Ormvard was already giving harsh glairs to any men he saw looking at me too long.

Before we pulled back the flaps of the large tent, we could already hear the shouting. Lugrub shoved past us and charged in, showing the Orcish tendency to protect their superiors to the death. Ormvard went in next, leaving me to follow.

The General and Legates that the men were here to replace did not appear to be taking the news well. Bits of torn parchment littered the floor and the men were shouting in one another's face. Lugrub placed himself at Mal's side and puffed himself up, making the other men give him a second glance.

"Again, these are the orders of the Council! You have been ordered to take over the Bruma camp. You will still retain your ranks, but not your men," Mal tried to tell the older man, the previous General. I could tell by his tone that he was using everything in himself to keep calm.

"And I am telling you," the older man shouted, "that you cannot walk into my camp with a sheet of parchment and expect me to abandon my men!"

"If you do not follow these orders, you will be considered a traitor and we will be forced to execute you. Is that truly what you want?" Ormvard beseeched the man. "I have been trained under Jurgis Wind-Shifter. I have seen this happen before. No one wants this, including you and me. Please, accept this for what it is: an order from the Council."

The old man lets out a sigh of defeat as he glares at the men in front of him, especially the Orc. He starts to leave but freezes when he spots me over Ormvard's shoulder.

"Do you really expect me to trust you? You've brought a traitor into my camp! A damned Thalmor!"

"She's a spy for us," Ormvard defended me.

"She's one of them!" He shouted back and drew a large two handed sword. Before my hand could even get to the hilt of my dagger, the blade of a sword appeared at the old man's neck.

"Touch her and we will kill you," Mal warned him. "Take your Legates. Leave tonight. Don't think about returning. The Council will hear about this, about how you treated Head Councilor Floramer's granddaughter."

The old man's face went pale white as he looked at me longer. He muttered something vile, spat at Lugrub, and then stormed out the tent. I could hear voices greet them outside, but couldn't make out what they were saying over the beating of my own heart.

The four of us remained in the tent staring at one another.

Finally, Mal said, "Lugrub, please make sure those men left the camp."

Once the Orc left and the flaps for the tent's door fell, Mal crossed the gap separating us and wrapped me in his arms.

"Do you two need a moment alone?" Ormvard asked, inching closer to the exit.

Mal cleared his throat and said, "No. Please find her a bed for the night – as close to this end of the camp as you can."

Ormvard gave a wide smile and assured him, "I was already planning on it, General."