Castle Dour

"We were desperate." snapped Igmund, "Reachmen had full control of the city and it wasn't like we had the resources or imperial support. The Great War took a heavy toll on the best of us. Ulfric was the only force in the region that had the men to take on the forsworn."

He, Tullius and Xirex were sitting at a roundtable in one of Tullius's briefing chambers sharing a bottle of brandy. Igmund wasn't all to full of the taste of the hard liquor; he was mainly a mead man. The imperials may have a finer appreciation towards it though.

"That still justify you threatening a second war with the Dominion, all to save your kingdom?" incurred Xirex.

"I'm not looking for you imperials to understand!" hissed Igmund, "My father and I was trying to save our Hold! Non brentons were being butchered in the countryside! We couldn't just let Reachmen threaten us towards the west."

"So after Ulfric purge Markarth of these Reachmen, your father let up to the agreement yes?" said Xirex

"We kept our word. Talos was free to worship so long as the people just kept things quiet."

Xirex looked a bit irked in his seat, his face was stern with no emotion, and "Can you believe this? General this man has openly confessed that they had disobeyed the Emperor's orders, direct treason."

Faleen was standing guard behind Igmund, her hand well placed above the hilt of her broad Orcish sword ready to lash it out. She gave Xirex a very unsettled glare as if the man had threatened her lord. Igmund paid no attention to the poncy haired imperial and kept his eye to Tullius instead.

"The emperor showed no quarrel to the agreement! We had gain legion support!" spoke Igmund.

"Igmund you had to realize that the Thalmor were bound to find out." said Tullius.

"As I said before, we were desperate. My father saw it as no other option. If this is some kind of trail than judge me, but I take no regret. Markarth was free from Forsworn. The job was done."

"This isn't a trail Igmund, please." Tullius tried his best to play the level headed one, feeling the hostility from the nord and to Xirex (or it could be Xirex just doing his usual agitating banter).

"We just want to hear your account in all the things."

"What happened afterwards?" asked Xirex.

"I'm sure you know that part" said Igmund, "You folk came and we were forced to put Ulfric into custody. My father died shortly after and I was put on the throne."

Tullius signaled his squire to serve him another cup of brandy and waited for the cup to fill then take a gulp before continuing, "I've read a few reports about your city, especially one prestigious family."

Igmund instantly knew who the General was speaking of. "Yes" he says running his fingers through his soft beard "The Silverbloods."

-Markarth

Stepping inside the narrow hall that lead to the shrine gave off the sight that this was a temple. The brass shrine of Talos stood at the very end of the stone halls with dimly lit candles set around the parish. Its original housing was an actual chapel but after the war it was torn down and instead of melting the statue, the previous Jarl ordered for it to be detained away out of thalmor sight hidden in the crag under the temple of Dibella.

Rohan step forth to the looming statue his eyes checking all corners in the room with his hand safely in reach of his dagger.

"So you came"

Rohan quickly turned to his left and sees the young brenton step from the shadows in a dramatic fashion. Rohan flashes the parchment from his pocket, "I got your note, what do you want with me?"

Eltrys says nothing; he stares at Rohan with his pale eyes as if he was examining him. "You're an outsider." he says his finger on his chin. "You're dangerous looking, you'll do."

"I'll do?! Just what in Shor's name are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry to drag you into Markarth's problems, but after the attack in the market I'm running out of time."

The tone of Eltrys' voice was frightful causing concern for Rohan. The kid looked fidgety, nervous and breathing heavily, such symptoms was that of paranoia. "You believe that attack was planned?" said Rohan.

Eltrys nods his head frantically, "Yes! A man goes crazy in the market?! Everyone knows he's a Forsworn agent! Guards do nothing. Nothing but clean up the mess!"

"Slow down and try to talk some sense." Rohan eases the tensed man from his rambling by placing calming hand on his shoulder.

"Sense? Forsworn are in the city friend! There is no sense in that! You want answers? We all do!"

"Hey!" Rohan lowers his broad height down to match Eltrys, his eyes leveled with the brentons, "Su'um hin Morah…Breath and Focus."

The deep base of Rohan's voice gave a sense of clarity to Eltrys; he inhales for a short second and then exhaled. "Sorry, it's just that everything seems so frantic considerably."

"It's alright; now tell me what's happening."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, I don't know and I want to find out. This has been going on for years and all I find is murder and blood. I need help, please. You find out why that woman was attacked and who's behind the Forsworn and I'll pay any information."

A sigh of frustration was that came from the nord, he was sent here on a mission and wasn't really in the case to be side tracked but by the sound of Eltrys' voice, it seemed that the attacked almost felt personal to him. "If there had been murders why are you looking in on this?"

Eltrys folds his arms and leans on one of the stone pillars of the building, "My father…" the breton took a breath before continuing, "He owned one of the mines, rare for anyone who isn't a nord. He was killed when I was just a boy. Guards said it was just a madman but everyone knew the murderer was a member of the Forsworn. I've been trying to find out why ever since."

"I see" said Rohan, "How far you've come?"

"Got nowhere so far" Eltrys let out a sarcastic laugh, "Now I got married, have a child of my own on the way. I swear I was just going to give up for my child's sake but it's like my father's ghost is haunting me. Asking me why?"

Rohan was starting to take helping this brenton into consideration but he still had his own work to pass. But there was this feeling that something big and rotten was happening in this city and Rohan's nerves were almost compelling him to do it.

Weylin. That was the mad man's name that attacked the woman in the market. He worked in the smelter where many brentons go for work. Working at the Markarth city smelter was one of the harshest occupations in all of the hold. There employees are over worked and underpaid. Shoveling mounds of silver into smelters as hot as the sun. Injuries such as burns and broken bones were common and also the humid musty smell of metal burning was also discouraging feature. The smelter was run by an abrasive orc named Mulush. A very unpopular supervisor due over working the workers and "beating" them he sees them breaking out of line.

"Careful!" barks the orc, "You spill one drop of silver I'm taking your hide."

Omulag, a young brenton worker possibly in his mid twenties, was pushing mounds of silver dirt on a rusted wheel barrow. Trying to pour into the boiling hot apparatus. "I'm…being as careful as I can." he grunts, his arms were straining by the heavy push he had to do with the wheel barrow.

"Did you just talk back to me!?" growled the orc, He gives Omulag a hard kick on his backside causing the man to stumble a bit. "I'm not paid to listen. I'm paid to keep you working, now work!"

"Excuse me…"

Mulush turns to see a nord standing next to him. "What?" he growled.

Rohan's face scrounges at Mulush's face. Like all orcs Rohan has met in his life, they all seem very ugly and hard to look at. It was some form of prejudice it was just that they were hard to look at. And by the tone of his voice, Mulush's personality was as ugly as his face.

"I'm looking into this morning's attack at the market."

A jagged grin curls on Mulush's face, "Oh…right, Weylin. Bastard could have atleast gone crazy after we made our silver quota."

"Can you tell me anything?"

The orc sneered and crossed his arms, "Whatever you want to know, I don't care. I run a smelter. That's it."

Rohan lets out an annoyed sigh and begins to change his tone, "Look. You must know something. How so bout you start caring!"

"Fine. I did notice something odd the last time we handed out pay I notice a slip of paper for Weylin. Took it right to his room when he got it."

"Anything else?"

"No. Now leave me alone." Just as the orc spoke one of the workers dropped a box of ore he was carrying. Silver pieces all scattering to the ground with a loud crash. Mulush turned his attention back on the brenton, his snaggle snare seething with rage. "You worthless piece of troll dung!" the orc growled.

He reaches for the strap of his belt and pulls a whip from the harness raising it high about to crack the brenton on his back. The worker put up his arms and balled to the floor trembling.

"Hey!" Rohan's hand clasped onto Mulush's raised wrist, the whip still in his hand. "It was only an accident, leave him alone!"

"Are you telling me how to run my workers!?" hissed Mulush.

"No, I'm telling you to act like a moderate person. Only two bit slavers beat their employers! You're paying them to work; you don't need to beat them!"

"These brentons aren't even worth the silver we already pay them. Beating them is the only way for them to work right, they're like dogs."

Rohan leaned himself close the orc's ugly face showing a form of intimidation, "I said stop!" Mulush responded by leaning close to him showing he wasn't swayed, "Or what!" he growled.

"Or I'll show you how a real man beats a dog." The tenure in Rohan's words gave Mulush that sense that the nord was serious, he stepped back a bit showing he did not want know confrontation. The orc turned his gaze back to the worker, "Clean up this mess…NOW!" he barked, walking away while grumbling under his breath.

-Markarth Treasury House

Thonar was at his desk, kept in his log books…again. Instead of living it up the lavish lifestyle like his idiot of a brother who does nothing but sits on that throne, drinking and whoring, he was busy keeping the silver flowing and the money full, working endlessly…again. But this day has become ever so difficult. For one thing his little problem was suppose to be taken care of but the damned woman survived the hit in the markets, more importantly an outsider the very one who saved her has been seen sulking around the city asking questions. Thonar had kept his guards well on to keep an eye on him but there was this unsettled feeling in his gut that things were only going to get worse.

"Lord Thonar?" his assistant Rhiada had come to the door inside his office. A very pleasing sight to see, young, soft yellow hair, ample chest with a smoothed petite body. Just looking at her made Thonar feel a bit better. Unfortunately she was married and now with child, so trying to coax her into a bed seemed out of place but after she has her child and still has that gorgeous figure of hers; Lord Thonar might recant such a conquest he was her boss after all.

"What is it my dear?"

"Your brother's housecarl, Yngvar, has come to see you."

Thonar only nods his head with Rhiada leaving as a burly nord dressed in light studded armor walking in. The housecarl has a quick glance at Rhiada's backside raising his eyebrows with some satisfaction before turning his attention back to Thonar.

"Yngvar" Thonar closes his books and straightens himself in his seat, "What do you have for me?"

"The man's name is Bram Stonewater says he's from Morthal, nothing much else is there." said Yngvar.

"That's it?!" snapped Thonar slamming his fist on his desk, "Just his name and bloody origin!"

"It's what we have so far sir! But there is still one tremendous issue in the matter."

"And what is that?"

"Witness had said how he engaged the hitman some had stated that he…shouted."

Thonar winced a look, "What?"

"Shouted, some heard a loud yell."

"A yell?"

"That's what they thought they heard."

"Right…" Thonar tapped the fuzz on his chin, pondering deeply. "Keep your men on him; I have some business to attend."

Yngvar leaves the room while Thonar's mind was still far in thought. Can't be…can't be him.

"Rhiada!" he called, his fetching assistant coming in. "Send word to Nepos tell him he has a job to do."

-Solitude/Blue Palace

"Her lady, Victoria Vicci!" the court orator announced.

Elisif straighten her posture while sitting in her throne showing a bright enthusiastic look

but the pale color in her face gave a hint that she was exhausted. Still it was a welcoming sight, seeing Victoria in her court. The woman was of great social stature after all and it wasn't just her executive standings with East Empire Company. She happens to have some royalty in her family that being the first cousin of the Emperor of Tamriel, Titus Mede II himself. Other than the royalty blood, Vittoria was a standing figure in the community and for that she was treated with upmost respect.

A smile grew across Elisif's tired face, "Vittoria, it's always a pleasure to see you."

"The pleasure is mine, dear Jarl." said Vittoria with a bow.

Elisif responded with a small bow of her head "I'm sure you're here to speak to me about your wedding arrangements?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you I know things have gone quite hectic with the war and all."

"Oh no it's nothing to worry Vittoria, a wedding is a wondrous thing. The people of Skyrim needs to know that love is blossoming still in these troubled times."

"Asgier and I are very grateful for your assistance in all this, having the city guard in cased with security and even allowing us the palace to use for our reception. You don't know how much this means!" Vittoria blushed with excitement.

"Of course Vittoria, you are a well respected citizen of Solitude with your charitable contributions to the city. The least I can do is help you with your own wedding."

Myra watched Elisif speak with the pretty imperial noble from the comfort of a lounge bench, Elisif had told her earlier that a wedding was being planned with it being the Emperor's cousin. Myra knew of the Viccis', very powerful noble family in Cyrodiil, controlling the entire monopoly that was the East Empire Company since the third era.

Myra's family have done business with EEC before, establishing a bit of trade in the city of Camlorn back in High Rock, Myra even having a cousin working as a senior administrator. So she can say that she was well verse with the Viccis.

"Lady Santoir?"

Myra turns to her right to see Councilor Rantoli standing over her. "Poncius" she says flatly turning her attention back to the jarl.

"May I sit?" asked Rantoli.

Myra waved her hand motioning him to do so. Rantoli plopped his fat bottom next to her, sitting upright his stubby hands on his lap.

"Tis a wonderful news to here, a wedding happening now." said the man.

Myra just rolled her eyes, "Yes…quite."

Rantoli speaks as if he was trying to conversate, Myra quite despised Rantoli finding him as such an abhorring man. A leech leaning on his friends to up his stance in power and influence. The man would only speak to you if he wanted something.

Rantoli wasn't that much of a politician, a man holding a minor seat in the Elder Council who's only repertoire was an acting defense administrator between the politicians and the military. He doesn't really have much political standing as Myra does as she a representative of both Camlorn and the imperial city, her family having high stature in the Elder Council for years not to mention their wealth. For Myra, whatever Rantoli wanted he better ask Xirex for.

"I've heard the generals have been speaking with that exiled Jarl Igmund" said Rantoli.

"Yes" Myra's tone was to give off a hint that she did not wish to be bothered, "Everyone has heard."

Rantoli just kept his small smile he knew Myra wasn't fond of him and in return he wasn't quite indulgent of her either but his talent was manipulation and with Myra's standings with her best friend Elisif and other "friends in high places" Rantoli find it ever so impulsive to delve a connection with someone who he might ask for something in the near future or to mess/ruin them.

"Well I'm sure you've heard that they're planning a direct campaign to the hold."

Wait for it; you're just casting the line.

"They were going have to go for it eventually." Myra's eyes still onto the jarl.

Rantoli continued, "And that one of their trusted agents have gone silent so they've sent that Dragonborn to investigate."

That caused Myra's eyes to widen her face turning to councilor. "What?"

GOTCHA!

Rantoli quickly puts his hand over his mouth, acting the innocent. "Oh forgive me that information was classified! Damn my blubbering mouth!" He rises from his seat but Myra places her hand on his arm, pulling him back down. "Poncius wait, you can always speak to me on what Xirex and Tullius is up to."

"No dear lady I can't, as councilor of the imperial defense it is my job to uphold such confidentiality."

"Poncius" Myra's low and consoling, her tone quickly changed from shriveled and annoyed to smooth and friendly. "You know me; I can always keep a secret."

Her wide blue eyes staring down on the councilor softening him a bit that churns his face back into his smile. "Well, I've always respected you Lady Santoir."

The warrens were everything it was described to be, dark, smelly and inhospitable yet there of all places where bretons living in this squalor. This was something off beat considering the bretons Rohan has come to known enjoy the finer things like marble floors and pretty drapes for their windows at their private villas. Of course those were those prissy breton nobles from Cyrodiil. But even the most lowly income breton would seek some decency on their living arrangements. Here these people were covered in brown which by the looks wasn't mud, rags as clothing and the constant fight over a stale piece of bread or skooma. It was utterly disgraceful.

But Rohan had a job to do, meaning he had to bite down the tense of disgust and stick to his mission. He comes to a feral young native slumped against the stone dwarvern wall. "You're in the wrong place nord!" the breton sneered showing his snagled yellow teeth.

Rohan ignored the hostility "It was said that Weylin lived here?"

"Ah yes, the crazy fool" the breton spoke, more of his cruel teeth showing in a smile. "I guess someone else would be taking his room now."

"I need to see his room."

The breton gave Rohan a beguiled look. "As I said before the warrens isn't the place for your particular kind."

"What do you mean?"

"Nords aren't viewed in high fashion here."

Rohan flashed a palm of septims to the breton's eyes. "How is coin viewed?"

The breton snatched the small pile of coins from Rohan's palm, counting them quickly then putting them into the pocket of his torn trousers flashing his rusty smile. "Welcome to the warrens! His room his down the hall to your right." The breton tosses Rohan the key.

On his way to the room, Rohan was met with an array of unwelcoming eyes. Some natives holding themselves near a fire watches him as he pass by.

"It's a son of Skyrim!" shouts someone near.

Crude laughter echoes around from the tease. Rohan quickly made his way to the room not wanting to draw any more attention for the fear of any hostility was coming to him. Heading to the gold rusted dwarvern door, Rohan churns the key in the lock and pushes himself inside the small home.

...If anyone could call it a home.

It was just a room of dirt and stone, not much of furniture, only that of a chair and small table. A bedroll laid near a fire pit which was still slightly lit, keeping a fire going was maybe due in to keeping some bit of warmth considering how drafty it was down here.

Rohan rummage through what was little of Weylin's things. There was a chest filled with some old wrinkled clothes and bits of crates carrying what looks to be trash. Rohan checked the table where there was nothing but a small plate which looks like to be a Weylin's last meal: a piece of bread plus a half eaten apple. Near the plate was a piece of folded paper that on which Rohan almost mistook for a napkin.

The paper was fine piece of parchment, neatly folded. On it was a note:

You've been chosen to strike fear in the heart of the Nords. Go to the market tomorrow. You will know what to do

~N

N? Obliviously this is some initial. pondered Rohan aside from that, this was true evidence that Weylin was forsworn too much of the guards' disposition.

Rohan quickly heads back outside into the sunlight eager to give Eltrys this information when he was suddenly stopped by an abrupt stranger.

A nord standing atleast a few inches taller than Rohan was glaring back at him with angry scowl. His rough face was tattered with scars, and his head was completely bare aside from the wiry locks atop of his head styled into a mohawk with a single braid coming down, his muscles clamored through the pieces of his leather armor, both an axe and mace holstered to his belt.

"You!" the man growled. "You've been poking your head in places you don't belong!"

Rohan was far from intimidated by the man, "Yeah and you've look like you've been poking your head up a mammoth's ass!"

The joke didn't bother the thuggish individual instead with a holler the thug attempts to connect a punch right at Rohan's jaw. Rohan dock countering with an uppercut. For all things the brute was big but sluggish, telegraphing himself easily for Rohan to counter with a few swings.

One hard hook was slow enough for Rohan to catch and throw the man to the floor, pressing his boot on the man's throat.

"Who sent you?" said Rohan, his voice low and casual.

The thug let out a few harsh coughs, showing signs of strangulation.

"I'll ask again: who sent you!?"

"NEPOS!" the thug screamed in a choke, "Nepos the nose! Some rich breton who lives on the upper part of town! …He…only wanted me to…soften you up…keep your nose…out of their business."

"Who's business?"

The thug was still hesitant to speak Rohan pressed down a bit more, "TALK YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

"I don't know! He wouldn't say!"

Rohan relinquishes his foot letting the man scurry off. "Get out of here, before I throw you in a pit of daedra!" .

"N" Huh? So Nepos…you know a little something about these forsworn.

Word from the Writer: Sorry for the delay, rewrites after rewrites and it just keeps bothering me! If any of you have notice I've deleted the lot of my stories. I'm planning to do a rewrite of all of the putting them all in one fic so please don't be scared! I'll continue to put a few more chapters down for this here before I do the rewrite on the previous one.