-Reach

It took Rohan but a second to stumble from his tent quickly slipping on his steel boots of his uniform and to Rikke's tent when news struck out that she had to seek word with him. They had been lying low in the twisted mountains of the Reach for almost a three weeks and were eager with any news from Solitude. And when a message finally came it was treated with such urgency.

"Word from the general" spoke Rikke as she caught sight of Rohan coming in. "An undercover operative working on behalf of Tullius has infiltrated the city of Markarth and hasn't reported in for a while, the general is getting restless."

"And what of you had me to do?"

"Go in and find her."

"Her?"

"The woman is an imperial under the alias Margaret. She had been deployed to Markarth for almost a month since the city was given to Stormcloak control." spoke Legate Admand.

"What was she doing there?" asked Rohan.

"Keeping track of the silver coming from the mines and the city's convicts." said Rikke.

"Convicts? She's tracking prisoners?"

"Cidhna Mine" said Legate Admand, "One of the main sources of the city's silver and most locked up prison in all of Skyrim."

"Cidhna Mine is home to Skyrim's most undesirables." continued Rikke, "With Ulfric having control and other influence in that city…"

"There would be no telling on who he puts in or lets out." said Rohan, realizing to what Rikke was implying.

"This is a dangerous task Rohan." said Rikke, "If someway your cover is blown…"

"Trust me legate; I'll get the job done."

-Solitude

Igmund sits in the solace of the fancy decorated parlor room drinking tea and feeling miserable. Ever since the day of his exile he had been feeling less of a man and mostly less of a nord. The once Jarl Igmund of Markarth now seeking refuge in the comforts of Solitude under imperial protection never showing his face to the public, it was embarrassing to say the least. Aside from being excerpt from his throne, Igmund was given the mild luxury as any noble or political figure was given. Elisif granted that he reside in one of the well courted guest homes in Solitude, Frost Hollow Manor, a rather large home made of blue marble like most noble homes in the city, eight bedrooms, a large dinging hall, courtyard/garden etc. What a usual home for an esteemed noble would be. Along that, Elisif also endowed that of four servants to Igmund's needs: a cook, gardener and two house maids.

To most it look to Igmund was that of a well to do noble, to Igmund it was shameful, disgraceful. His family had ruled the Reach for many generations and like most nords, Igmund was taught to fight for the things he wants. But after a decree from Tullius that he was to step down as Jarl, Igmund thought he should've done something. He should've rallied his troops, he should've told Ulfric if he wanted his hold Ulfric was going to have pried it from his cold dead hands…but he didn't. He just got up from his throne and left to Solitude, no question, no protest, no anger. If any of his ancestors would've seen him on that day they would've been ashamed. And now he's here in this mini palace living it up like some prissy noble.

"My lord"

Igmund snaps from his slow daze and turns to see his housecarl Faleen standing next to him. The redguard's eyes staring directly down at him.

"What is it?" said Igmund.

"The general requests an audience."

"Tullius?"

Faleen nods her head, "He said he wishes to discuss on some things you might know about."

"Like what?"

The redguard shrugs her shoulders, "He didn't say"

Igmund waves her off shifting the other way of his chair, "I have nothing to say to that imperial!" he spat, "It's been almost a year and half since I lost my home and not once did he ever try to speak to me then, not once did he ever try to call for my aid in a collaboration to get my Hold back, not once!"

"And now he has the audacity to call for my audience and won't tell me why? Tell the general that if he wishes to speak to me, I would like to know the subject."

Faleen just rolls her eyes and shakes her head, folding her arms as she does it. "Is that what you're going to do all day, sit around mop like you've done since we've Markarth? Just sit around wanting someone to feel sorry for you?"

"What?!"

Faleen kneels down, leveling herself to her and Igmund of the height of his chair, "Igmund I am just as upset as you. I lost Markarth, I lost my home and it does nothing but tears me up inside to point where I just want to fall out and cry. But I don't, I keep my chin up and know by the Gods one day I will be able to call Markarth my home, I just know it."

Igmund still remained silent but was moved by the voice of Faleen's words.

"Ulfric may have given the Reach to those sneaky Silverbloods but in the right eye, the people still know you as Jarl of Markarth."

A tinge of clarity came to Igmund by listening to Faleen, a good sense of tangibility. He runs his fingers through shortness of his beard taking his housecarl's words to thought. "Your right Faleen. I shouldn't be so feral."

"Good" Faleen rose to her upright stance with a smile on her face, "Besides it wasn't like it was Tullius's doing anyway. It was that damned Dragonborn's fault."

"Oh right him" a sense of sourness rattles in Igmund's tone.

"What's his name again?" said Faleen, "Roen? Ramhund?"

"Rohan" corrected Igmund.

"Ugh…" mocks the redguard, "What in Tava's mercy is name like that?"

The two share a laugh before venturing to Castle Dour.

The general was already having conversation when Igmund walked into his war room. There Igmund saw Tullius at his usual place, observing the map going over plans and scenarios, along with a rather frosted fair haired imperial dressed in a white lavish uniform, much similar to Tullius but rather divine. "Igmund" said Tullius rising from his place on the table, "Glad you can make it."

"I came as soon as you seek word general." said Igmund his eyes still on prissy like general next to Tullius.

"This is General Gaius Xirex of the sixth legion." spoke Tullius introducing.

Xirex? spoke Igmund in his mind I've heard of him.

"A pleasure to meet you general Xirex."

Xirex just smiles pearly smile and nods his head, "The pleasure is all mine."

"You seek word?" said Igmund, seeing what Tullius finally wanted.

"Yes, I have some questions that I like you to answer." Tullius began to slowly pace from his table and around the room. "These…Forsworn I am told your family is well versed with them."

Igmund glances down to Tullius's table where a sprawled sheet of a map highlighting zones of The Reach and parts of Markarth. A burst of excitement then rattles Igmund "You wish to reclaim the Reach?!"

"An experimental campaign for the sorts." implied Xirex.

A bewildered look flashes on Igmund.

"What the general is trying to say is we're trying but are having some difficulties." inquired Tullius.

"What kind of difficulties?"

"Well these Forsworn to say the least, they have become a nuisance on legion maneuvers making it a pain for soldiers the move through the mountains. Harder for us to give support to the garrison stationed far off."

"We suspect that they may have a sort of allegiance to the stormcloaks."

Another stint of confusion shows on Igmund's face "Let me guess, while the casualty rate rises in your men there have been no reports of any stormcloak deaths."

Tullius nods his head agreeing, "It's as if the savages ignore them."

"Well what will you ask of me then?"

Tullius slides into his chair offering Igmund to do the same. "Well first why don't you tell General Xirex here the happenings of the Markarth Incident."

"Ah" Igmund touches the chin of his beard, "What started this war…"

Markarth

The Reach's capital was what many travelers and locals alike have said "A giant dwarvern ruin" It's white stone spires with golden tops and twisted stairwell architectures were something to marvel at. It sure as Oblivion didn't look like any nord city, in fact it was far from it. Aside from the open Talos worship and stormcloak soldier marching around you wouldn't believe you were still in Skyrim. But still Markarth was a cultural marvel, rich in the abundance of silver and economical surplus, it was one of the richest city in the province and to some the most twisted.

For Bram Stonewater, it was something to gawk at. Rohan was playing the feral tourist quite well, Bram Stonewater was his given alias and with an average back story. His tale: He was a farm boy hailing from Morthal on his way to Falkreath only to stop in Markarth for some to time to rest up and gather traveling supplies. A likely story to guess and perfect cover. His beard had gotten a little thick and his hair was starting a lengthy grow. A very gruff look like most nords and way to ward off any unseeing eyes to some who won't possible recognize him. His days back with Delphine and Esbern taught himself a few things of going deep cover and espionage.

But acting the part was the first part of his mission, the second part was to find this Margaret and follow up on any her findings. To that was some difficulty for there was no specific description of her only that she was an imperial. And it wasn't like he could go asking around. Even though he was a nord the stormcloaks were still suspicious of anyone who wasn't from Markarth or any parts of the hold. And to that security was tight. Stormcloak patrols everywhere, look out posts, check points to some part of the city. It was that of militarize state with its strict rules. Non nords were given curfews and any non nord seen with a weapon or going into areas without a permit was deemed a hefty crime and were arrested, some sent to prison. Thongvor Silverblood ruled as Jarl as that of keen dictator but atleast Talos was openly worshipped.

Rohan had some easy access going to most parts of the city without any hassle from the guard, they saw him wearing his amulet of Talos a sign of allegiance and since this being an open Talos worship city it would sought as good fortune for him. But still the damned city was but lowly populated, the streets were almost as crowded as Solitude.

Making him look for Margaret was even more difficult but like some would say "If you wanna find someone in Skyrim, try the inn."

Rohan makes his way to the over cumbered zone of central part of the city, coming near the bustling markets. Hoards of people hounded their ways to the kiosks and bartering and making sales.

As Rohan heads through the cluttered area his eyes mark every face that comes near him, trying to see if any fit a keen description of his priority. None so far but he continues his way to where the stout tavern was located. But before he could get near his eye caught draw of something.

At one of the nearby stalls stood man, average height, with a mop of dirty black hair and ash like skin but not that of dunmer but of a brenton. His face was rather broad, ugly for a fact for most brentons Rohan had met were rather attractive with their looks. His clothes were that of tattered rags and cloths that of a miner's apparel with black coal chalking it up. His appearance looked that as if he had just climb right out of the mines. But his clothes didn't really caught Rohan's distinctive eye it was that of the obstruction in his hand. A slender ebony dagger caught glare in the sunlight alerting Rohan's eye. The blade was of a sharp stance drawn with the strange brenton miner grasping it tightly as if ready to pounce. The cold hollowness in the man's eyes made Rohan shift his way towards him. The man begins his pace, heading towards a fair headed woman unknowingly as she browses at one of the kiosks. Rohan began heighten his move, rushing through the vast crowd and towards the man.

With a slight diligent pace the man keeps his walk to the woman, jaw clenched in madness and dagger tightly shaking in his gnarled hand.

"Hey!" called a voice in a distance but the man ignores and continues to his target.

"Stop!" no response as the man comes near.

The woman was having polite conversation with one of the store keeps, smiling and laughing along not knowing that her assassin is right behind her. She ends her talk with the trader and turns to see the enraged man standing before her with a raise of his arm with a black dagger braising in his hand.

"ZUN HAAl VIIK!"

And it with a quick gush of wind, things unraveled in flash. A tingled vibration shot through the deranged man's arm where his dagger was raised and in a sudden move, it was as if the knife had a mind of its own and flew right out of his hand. Before the man could even gather a sense on what just happened and hard cold bonelike dagger thrusts through his back and out his chest. Rohan pulls his dragonbone knife out from the man, blood oozing out from his chest and mouth.

"I….died…for my people." the man's final words.

"By the gods forsworn in the city!" shouts one of the townspeople. Others begin to clutter around to see the horrid sight until a huge mass of people cover the area. The almost attacked woman remained standing horrified. Her eyes wide with terror and mouth trembling. "By the gods" she spoke "He tried to kill me…"

"Are you alright?" said Rohan his arm and parts of his shirt drenched in the mad man's blood.

"Yes…I think I am. You saved me…thank you!"

"Why would this man try to attack you?"

"I don't know I swear, I'm just a traveler from Cyrodiil."

A sudden mess of guards make their way through the crowd pushing anyone in their path aside.

"Alright keep it moving nothing to see here!" says one of the stormcloaks.

"Back to your homes everyone! We'll take it from here!"

"This woman attacked" said Rohan to one of the guards.

"Forsworn attack everyone, it's nothing new here."

Shocked and bewildered came of Rohan at the guard's statement, "There are forsworn? Here in the city!?"

"Forsworn are everywhere."

"Are you having trouble keeping them out of the city or something?"

"Back off!" the stormcloak guard was looking quite defensive, "We keep the peace here outsider!" The guard bumps his shoulder right into Rohan as he makes way to the dead man, helping him carry the corpse from the street.

Rohan looks to see where that woman had went to only to find that she had disappeared.

"Strange isn't it?" says voice next to him. Rohan turns to see a young brenton male, yellow haired with obscured tribal makings on his face. "Woman gets attacked in the middle of day and no one does anything about it."

"Are you talking to me?"

The man didn't answer he just smiled and begin to walk away, "Oh wait a minute!" he stops in his path and hands Rohan a scribbled note. "You drop this"

Rohan takes the paper but doesn't read it, "I believe this yours actually."

"Mine? Oh no sir, that's your note." The tone from the young man was something to take heed in with Rohan finally getting what the guy was jeering at. He waits for the brenton to walk on with his business before reading the scribbled parchment:

Meet me at the Shrine of Talos

Blue Palace

A soft drizzle poured on the Solitude this late afternoon. Myra had decided to spend the rest of her day inside sitting peacefully in one of the lavish decorated staterooms playing her lute. It was a pleasant tune, that of an old Camlorn harmony she learned in younger days. She was playing an upbeat melody as if a song of a fairy tale but as she play her memory of this song was a story of her own:

Cyrodiil Six Years Ago

Myra was in the garden of her family's luscious vineyard estate off in the countryside of the Imperial City near the playing her lute. After times and attempts of practice she had finally got this little hymn down and decided to do her own performance in the solace of the bright springtime flowers. It was a beautiful afternoon, the sun was bright and the small forest animals were out grazing and enjoying the sunshine. Myra played to this loving day, serenading the lush fruition.

"A lovely song" spoke a voice. The fair teen turns to see an brenton around the same age of her, he was dressed in fine noble clothes with light brown hair cropped to his shoulders and a light patch of beard on his chin. A rather handsome teen by the looks but to Myra nothing but distaste. He was Amaund Motierre heir to one of the most powerful families in the imperial city and made no fault to remind anyone of that. He was snobby and to a point spoiled as well and a much undesired suitor.

"Hello Amaund, what brings you to my family's home?" said Myra her voice giving the other brenton the hint that she doesn't want him to be here.

"Father is having discussions with your father, political matters, nothing of interest. But I came to see you of course." With a sly smile, Amaund strolls over to Myra sitting next to her on the stone bench.

"Myra…" Amaund takes the lute from Myra's hand and places down beside him, a stint of rudeness coming from him. "By the day you look more and more beautiful, already a grown woman and hasn't marry yet. You sure aren't saving yourself for anyone are you?"

He playfully touches her bright platinum hair to much of her disgust.

"Stop" Myra swats Amaund's hand away but Amaund grabs both her wrist.

"For too long you've been keeping your legs closed for me!" he says with a playful yet sinister grin, "You should already know that I don't take no for an answer."

"Leave me alone!" Myra cried hoping for someone to hear her, She squirms trying to get out of Amaund's grasp but to no avail, "Go away or I'll tell my father!"

"Pfft! What good would that do?! My family is of the Elder Council in greater standing with the Emperor than ever, we can own your family in a second you bitch! Now stop denying me!"

"Lady Santoir?"

Another voice comes and to her rescue she sees him. A nord male around the same age as her and Amaund perhaps older, with a mop of dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was dressed in a rather downtrodden clothes, a tunic exposing his fair Nordic skin of his arms, crossed with muscles bulging and all. His face was much of delight to Myra.

"Be gone peasant!" hissed Amaund, "This does not concern you!"

The nord looked to the spoiled brenton briefly and then turns his attention back to Myra, "My lady is this boy bothering you?"

"He has…become quite an annoyance." said Myra. Amaund releases Myra by throwing her down from the bench and onto the ground. This causes the nord to get into a more assertive stance, his fist clenched but his face controlled with anger.

"How dare you!" growled Amaund walking over to him. "Did your pig farmer parents ever taught you to never bother a noble!"

"Young lord this is the Santoir estate and you have no say here, leave now."

"Ha!" Amaund chuckles a bit, "And what right do you have to say for me to leave?"

"By right of my own."

Amaund still chuckles but the nord does not flinch still staring at him coldly. The snobby noble looks to turn and leave but begins to bring the back of his hand to the nord's face. The swat was instantly caught and with a crushing grasp from the nord's massive hand, Amaund's wrist begins to twist.

The feeble brenton teen lets out a yelp and is instantly thrown to the dirt hard. "Leave!" growls the nord "Now!"

Amaund stumbles up holding his aching wrist looking into the raging nord's eyes and squirms away, "You…you…my family will have your head you barbarian!" he cries running in fear.

Myra gets to her feet with her nord friend helping her up and dusting the dirt from her bright sky blue gown. She smiles at her hero, Rohan always the one coming to her rescue when ever she's in peril. "What are you doing here in the imperial city?" she says, the two sitting down on the bench.

"Traveling, doing odd jobs here and there." Rohan adverts his eyes down ward, "Me ma…she uh, passed."

"Rohan" Myra places a consoling hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, she's with Pa now." Rohan was ready to change to subject, "I came to see you though, just letting you know that I was in town for a time being."

"Time being? You're not staying."

Rohan was a little restraint on telling her his reasons why, "My…jobs require me to travel."

Myra caught on the idea and knew what he meant, knowing Rohan for a long time his jobs may have an intent of violence and that worried her but she tried to not let it show. Rohan knows how to handle himself.

"Who was that milk drinking lout?" asked Rohan.

"Amaund, his family thinks they own the entire province. His grandfather is in the elder council so they have a lot of pull here." said Myra a hint of disgust in her voice.

"If he gives you trouble let me know, I have a talent of knocking poncy little whiners on their asses."

The two share a short laugh, Rohan touches the softness of Myra's wrist and noticing some bright red marks on them, "I'm fine" says Myra placing her hand on Rohan's.

"He was hurting you?"

"Amaund believes he could pry my legs open…but I don't spread them for no one." Their faces were nearly touching each other, Rohan's nose to Myra's, both of them looking deeply into each other's eyes. Myra smiles an alluring smirk, "But for you Rohan…I might make an exception."

"Myra?"

Myra snaps out of trance and notices Elisif coming into the room. She was wearing a rather wide ensemble of robes and a light silk gown under it, looking as if she had just gotten from her bed. "It's nice to see you." said Myra, "I haven't seen you all day. You alright?"

Elisif lets out a restless sigh, "I've been better." She takes a seat next to Myra on the soft couch fixing herself a cup of tea from the end table beside her. Elisif hadn't been looking her radiant self as she used to be. For the past two months she had been quite a recluse, staying most of her days without leaving her room letting Falk handle the court business. And when coming out, always drifting by not speaking as if she didn't want anybody to notice her in the room.

"That was a lovely piece you were playing." said Elisif after taking a sip of her tea, "What was that?"

"Oh just an old hymn I learned from my grandmother before she passed. It was one of her favorite pieces."

"It's a good song."

Myra gives Elisif a pleasant smile, "Why thank you my jarl, I'm glad someone enjoys it because it's the only song I know."

A fault of laughter fills the room from the two women. They then stop and enjoyed a brief silence for moment before Elisif began to talk again. "I had got word from Falk about the war and the legions' plans."

"Really? Xirex doesn't tell me anything." said Myra.

"Just this morning it was said that Tullius was talking with Jarl Igmund."

"Igmund?"

"Jarl of the Reach or atleast he was until his hold was given away for a temporary truce."

"A truce….Oh! That was when you went to speak with the Greybeards. I bet that was truly exciting."

"Yes it truly was, exciting and quite scary too."

"Oh?"

Elisif's face went into a blank stare as she relocates her memory on that day, "I was there, Tullius and his Legate Rikke in the same room with him ."

"Ulfric?"

Elisif slowly nods her head, "Just the last time I had saw his face was when Torygg was killed. And there I was, in the monastery of High Hrothgar seeing the Greybeards it was something of great honor sitting in the same room with that murderer."

"I can imagine how you were feeling."

"It was also the first time I met Rohan."

A little beam of joy rises in Myra's stomach, "Tell me everything."

"He was…rather intimidating, he wore armor made of dragons' bones and when he spoke I swear by the gods I could feel the mountain shake. He's..." Elisif did a short pause, her voice low and soft, "More than just a man I felt little just by sitting near him."

Myra leaned on the arm of the couch wanting to hear more, "You have a bit of admiration of him don't you?"

An astute question coming from Myra, Elisif was hoping not to make it obvious, "He saved our very lives he has…more than my respects."

Elisif looks to her friend, those sky blue orbs staring back at her as if the brenton was trying to read your soul. "You know something Myra, ever since you've come here, Rohan is all you ask about."

Myra puts up a smile trying to hide her true emotion, "I just find it fascinating that a Dragonborn still exist. The last known Dragonborns were emperors."

Elisif smiled, understanding, "And this one is a soldier."

Word from the Writer!: I want to reveal more of Rohan's past along the way and using this Myra character was an easy way of developing it. I hope I'm not confusing anyone with using these made up characters: Myra, Xirex, etc. If you are confused please let me know and I'll make some improvements. I'm not throwing anymore unknowns because I don't want to throw anyone off.

For Anyone wondering what the song Myra was playing with her lute was like listen to this:/watch?v=vD_1Klq63pk

Murdock93: You are half way right if you are thinking what I think you're thinking but spoiler!-It isn't what it seems. Just give let get a few more chapters you'll find out soon enough.