Chapter 1

A Deal with the Dragon

Lord Mogref of Betony Island entered the Benevolence of Mara. No sooner than he entered the temple, the priestess immediately rushed to him.

"How many?", he asked.

"32 tonight. They're all in good care."

Lord Mogref was shocked. 32? 32?! In just one night?! At this rate who knows how many will live until next week? Lord Mogref visited each, listened to their tales and congratulated them for their bravery. On his way back to the palace, the streets of Whitefort, the capital, were full of people, most of them women who all implored him to put an end to this menace. From time to time, curses were heard, expressing the anger of those whose brothers, sons, cousins or fathers had perished in the recent attacks. Normally, such offenses were punishable by whipping and a night in the palace dungeons, but now the lord was too deep in thought to act.

He could not see a way out. Betony was a small island at the tip of the Iliac Bay, standing alone. On the continent, the many kingdoms, counties, duchies and baronies were too entangled in endless webs of politicking, conspiracy and war over a handful of border villages. "Find a hill, become a king" was the Breton mantra, but Mogref's hill got flatter and flatter by the week. Ever since that Jagar Tharn, may Molag Bal eat his soul,usurped the throne 12 years ago, the province of High Rock and by extension the Iliac Bay had been in a state of shameful neglect. Pirates and thugs become common again in the Bay for the first time since Tiber Septim united Tamriel in his Empire. Things were worsened 4 years ago, when those barbaric Nords from Skyrim attacked both High Rock and Hammerfell in the so-called War of Bend'r-mahk. Back then, the various Breton kingdoms put aside their differences and fought as one, beating back the Nords. Soon after, Jagar Tharn was revealed as the impostor he was, and emperor Uriel VII reinstated on the Ruby Throne. On paper, things were getting better, but not for small Betony. The privateers hired by Bretons to counter Skyrim's seafarers were now raiding Iliac Bay with impunity, the mercenaries turned against their former masters. Now these outlaws got so bold that they landed in full on the island, raiding deep inland and even reaching the capital of Whitefort. And Betony is located at the tip of the Bay, where most commerce from the north was coming through. Being such an important linchpin in the Breton trade network, many pirate leagues and crews forgot about their usual rivalries and were the best of friends when attacking. The strategy was simple: a considerable force made sure the city's guards were not coming outside the gates, and the rest freely raided the island. Eventually, the merchants began storing their wares inside the walls of the capital, but to no avail. Knowing that Betony is sparsely populated and alone, the seafaring brigands attempted to conquer the island itself. Thus far, they were not successful, but they are trying to bleed them dry of any money and manpower.

"And how can such a petty lordship withstand these cruel tides?", Mogref was wondering. Thinking about all that happened in the last 12 years, he could only weep and blame fate for how unfair its tides were. He began to fear for his life and for the lives of his subjects. If Whitefort fell, then no one would be spared the raping, slavery and killing that would ensue. The pirate strategy finally began to pay off as men were scarcer and scarcer and widows were increasing. It was time for drastic measures, but he could not see what to do.

Upon arriving at the palace, the council was already assembled to meet him: Baronet Alabard Hawkhouse, master over Hawkhouse Hall and Captain of the Guard, Dunard Masterham, proprietor of the Bank of Betony and Treasurer, Gondard Yeomton, heir to Yeomton Tower and Spymaster and finally, Dunore Tarastir, the High Seaman. In a corner, near the council table, there stood Uthar and Perore Kirk, heads of the two branches of the Kirk family, Kirkhead and Kirkbeth, lords over Kirkbeth Hamlet and Kirkhead Rock. There was also Petrastir, lord commander of the Knights of the Shark, the order of knights in charge of protecting Betony. Lord Mogref sat on his throne:

"I see we have some highly esteemed visitors. Baronet Uthar, baronet Perore, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I think you know, Your Lordship", Perore said. "We are here to discuss with you the pirate crisis. It is the fourth time this month that they attacked. My home of Kirkbeth Hamlet has been raided each time and every single one of my subjects has gone back and forth between their home and Whitefort. We have infants left without fathers and young widows. A true shame! How many does Your Lordship think we can send to abbeys and monasteries to live out their days?"

"I come before you with the same problem as my cousin, my lord.", Uthar continued. "Good smiths in Kirkhead Rock have been left armless after battle. Our farms are plundered for food and soon our stores will empty. What are we going to do, my lord? We have been only passively hiding behind walls and let these bandits bleed us dry! When do we take action, my lord?"

"I am quite convinced his Lordship is doing his best given the circumstances.", Dunore, the High Seaman, replied. "If you can find the men, I'm sure His Lordship would turn Betony into a fortress on water. But alas, we do not have those means."

Uthar looked at him with anger in his eyes and a hand on his sword. Before he was able to say anything, Perore touched his shoulder to stop him and said:

"My good Lord High Seaman, how many ships does Betony posess?"

"We had 17 a year ago, but after…"

"I did not ask how many there were, I asked how many there are"

Dunore did not reply. He struggled to come up with an answer that he could spin in a positive way but found nothing. The truth was that he's tenure as High Seaman had been a disaster. Of those 17 ships, only one transport ship remained afloat after ceaseless raids.

"Right" said Perore. "And after the last ship hit the bottom of the Bay, what did you do, esteemed High Seaman? Why aren't the carpenters and dockworkers working to rebuild them?"

"I only have authority to command our navies, not build them!"

"Quite convenient." Perore turned to Lord Mogref. "Well, my lord, we are asking again, for we are anxious for your reply: What is there to be done about this piracy?"

Lord Mogref looked at them with tired eyes. He was fed up with courtly bickering while his people were dying. He stayed up all night, behind the lines of his troops encouraging them against the pirates. After it was over, he stayed awake until sunrise to weigh his options. He found no answer to his problems. The truth was, he was overwhelmed. Gathering his strength, he managed to tell them:

"My lords, I feel your pain. Your grievances are those of my people's, which are mine also. But what can I do in the face of his mortal enemy? I will be blunt with you, I do not know of a way out. But you are welcome to attend this council, since this is what we shall discuss here today. Please, bring forth solutions, I am waiting to hear them! Believe me, I am as willing to return to normality as you are."

The room went silent. For a few moments, everything seemed hopeless. If not even the lord knows how to protect his people, then what hope is there? The island was weak, its defender not able to defend it. The only option appeared to be abandonment. Of course, a life as refugees and a great island occupied by pirates would not please anyone. But maybe there was another way. Dunard Masterham, the Treasurer, rose to speak:

"My lord, maybe there is a way to save the island with little to no discomfort. Perhaps we can ask for help from the powers of the Bay, my lord."

"Bah! The Kingdoms of the Bay are too distracted with their own squabbles to notice! No one would risk sending troops to a small piece of land while their neighbors are at their throat", Alabard spoke.

"Agree. We hoped that they'd help for the sake of profit, but it seems that our trade routes are replaceable or disposable. Many now trade with Skyrim by land, so the only motivation they had to help is gone. No one touches the bay these days, even the East Empire Company pulled out from most of its outposts", Perastir said.

"You forget one thing, my lords: two lucrative trade routes are better than one. And the roads to Skyrim are perilous and hard to cross. All these petty kingdoms always try to get an advantage over one another. I think they would want to come and help for this reason.", said Dunard.

"My good Dunard, as Treasurer you should know that the merchants decide where they send their goods", Lord Mogref intervened. "I sincerely doubt that Wayrest would want to help us enrich Alcaire for instance, even if that would mean they would get a share of the pie too".

"Well my lord, there is another thing we can offer them. I know this is not going to be popular, but what if we would offer them our vassalage?"

The table went into a frenzy. Cries of `Traitor` were thrown around the room. Perastir, the commander of the knights, shouted:

"I should have your tongue for what you said, or even worse! How dare you suggest that our lord submit to another, worm?!"

"My lords, please! It might be the only way to protect our people! We have no navy, barely any army, our stockpiles of food are dwindling and so are our coffers! As Treasurer, I should know! I understand these are desperate measures, but we live in desperate times! As you said, no one will protect us if they can't gain any advantage. Let us use this greed to our benefit. We can become a trade hub and eventually knock down any foreign yoke using our wealth! Or we can die by some Redguard curved sword."

"Better to die with glory then!", Alabard shouted. "They'll sing songs about us, the great Bretons of Betony fighting for law and freedom than to dishonor ourselves in such a manner"

"Or they could sing about the great friendship between Betony and its faithful ally and about the unimaginable riches of Whitefort!"

"Who would this overlord be, anyway, if you're so smart?" Dunard asked.

Here, Gondard broke his silence:

"Well, should such a proposition be taken seriously, I think there's only one real option: The Kingdom of Daggerfall."

"With Lysandus? That Imperial lapdog?!", Uthar said.

"That so-called king would rob us of our ancestors' lands and give them all to his court!" Perore exclaimed.

"I do not believe that's likely. Alas, there are several reasons to consider Daggerfall. They are closest to us. Then, they have a strong navy. You should remember, my lords, that they were the only ones that could stand toe-to-toe with the seafarers of Skyrim's Dawnstar in the War of Bend'r-mahk. Should every kingdom had a navy as good as them, we wouldn't have needed corsairs in the first place. Lastly, if Lysandurs proves a tyrant, we can ask someone else for help. But precisely because Lysandus is loyal to the Empire I don't think he'd be a tyrant. Lysandus idealizes the Imperial system of governance, how it allows autonomy for smaller kingdoms. He himself benefits from this autonomy. I think he'd govern us with a lighter hand than Wayrest or Sentinel if we can provide sufficient advantages."

"You're not seriously proposing this, are you, Gondard? Why not submit ourselves directly to Uriel Septim then? Lysandus is still a Breton king that wants to expand over his neighbors. Why not ask the Elder Council to occupy us and cut the middle man, if precious Imperial governance is what you want?" Perore asked.

"Because the Empire has bigger fish to fry, for Mara's sake! You think our cries for help would be heard even by a lowly guard in the Imperial Palace?" Dunard replied.

"I still don't think we can stoop so low, my lord. It is a disgrace for you to bow before that wide-eyed fool! Are we supposed to become Orc lovers like he is? Let's be serious, my lord!"

"My lords, I think Dunard and Gundard are right! What can we do after all? Is it not better to forge a friendship and live to fight another day than prolong suffering?" Dunore said. In reality, he wanted some ships to command to call his own.

"My lord", the Treasurer said, "I know this might seem hard, but we must choose our people's life and well-being. Please, my lord, what choice do we have?"

Lord Mogref stood there and weighed his options. He seemed older and deeper in thought than ever. Surely, they could try to fight back. Mobilize every man, woman and child on the island and swiftly build an enormous number of ships and beat the pirates back. But with what money? And sure, they could take out loans and pay them back later but did not have the certainty of victory. Who would invest in their hopeless cause? Even if they could do all of it, they needed resources and men now or else it might be too late. But even so, could he, a Breton lord, renounce his rule and humiliate himself in front of all the Iliac Bay? Nay, all of High Rock? What good his small crown and fiefdom did him if he couldn't keep his pride? Then again, wasn't his pride for the sake of his people?

Lord Mogref made up his mind. He told his council:

"I understand this might be uncomfortable for you to hear, my lords. But it seems we have no other choice. For the sake of peace and stability we must get protection. And I think that the Treasurer and Spymaster are right. For what choice do we have but Daggerfall? Wayrest would rob us of all coin and Sentinel would take our the young men to fight wars in the Alik'r Desert. Any other kingdom would drag us into the politics of the Iliac Bay. Lysandus seems the only option for us. If he is willing to be favorable to Orcs, as the rumors go, then surely he will honor his brothers. Maybe we can rule as subjects of the Dragon, but if we can't protect ourselves, it is better to think about our own than our pride. Let us send a letter to Lysandus and Mynisera and humbly ask for their help."

"But my lord…our independence, our rule…how can we live without it?" Perastir asked with a livid face.

"I'll give him some conditions. Our local rule and lords shall be preserved, your lands and titles intact. We'll give him tribute and a share in trade, but no lands shall be taken from you."

"It is true, my lord, that we might not have better terms. Perhaps we won't even get these" Gondard spoke.

"My lord, if this be your command, we will follow you. But should any Daggerfall swords come near our estates, we will be ready." Uthar said.

"Agreed, my lord. Our family's honor shall be protected" Penore added.

"So be it. If Daggerfall shall betray whatever agreement we come to, I shall stand near you, as your lord. Bring me a scribe! It is time to write a letter for King Lysandus of Daggerfall."

An awkward silence filled the room, the king's dictation of the letter being the only thing heard. Indeed, only Dunore and Dunard were truly satisfied with the new plan. The former because his plan was heeded and the latter because he'll finally get more ships to command and a chance at glory. Alabard and Perastir were lost in thought. They would have rather died than submit to Daggerfall. Especially since it was led by Lysandus. This king was loyal to the Empire. Worse, at this time, the Orcs were fighting for their rights, wanting to be considered the equals of the other races. Lysandus seemed to support these claims. In their eyes, Lysandus was a borderline traitor to the Bretons. Gondard and the Kirch brothers were uneasy but accepted this understanding, since it was the only way. It was in this tense atmosphere that the courier left for Daggerfall.

The courier arrived close to sunset. He was in such a hurry that he barely noticed the sights of the capital. He arrived on the main boulevard that went from the center of the city to Castle Daggerfall. Huge houses, homes of lords and wealthy merchants surrounded the street, and many people crowded the street. Further north, the final part of the boulevard was flanked by trees and a moat that continued towards the castle, surrounding it. Finally, there stood Castle Daggerfall. A true fortress built from fine cut stone, it was surrounded by an outer wall, with a great tower at the entrance. Upon passing through the gate, the courier entered a small courtyard from which he saw the castle itself. It was a high and mighty construction, built to last sieges. It had three great round towers and all balconies and rooftops had battlements. The fortress had countless windows and a small gate that led into the throne room. The courier entered, ready to meet the king. He found himself in an antechamber. Before he could go any further, a guard stopped him:

"All are free to petition his highness at this time. Do not stray from the audience chamber lest ye have royal blessing to do so. Always speak politely to the king and his queen, and above all, cast no spells while within these walls. Do you agree with these terms?"

"Yes! Of course!" the courier replied hastily.

The guard opened the door for him. The throne room was huge. Like most Breton castles, it was held by four big pillars. In the back of the room there was a great staircase made of stone that led to a higher level of the room. The staircase was in fact a protuberance, . There, guarded by knights in plate armor, were the thrones of the king and queen. On the wall, behind them, there was a huge flag depicting the Crest of Daggerfall: a red dragon looking sideways on a green background. On the lower level of the room, before the staircase, there stood minstrels and jesters and some nobles talking eagerly with each other. On the staircase, near the throne, there were more knights and battlemages wearing the crest on their armors and more noble figures dressed in expensive furs and silks, politely exchanging remarks. The courier stopped in front of the throne. There stood King Lysandus and Queen Mynisera.

Lysandus was a tall man, with a small beard and long brown hair. He was dressed in a purple robe with a red dragon on it. On his head there was a golden crown and a long cape with fur on his shoulders. His wife and queen, Mynisera, was standing on a throne next to him. She was dressed in a yellow tunic with a white robe over it. A copper tiara encrusted with precious stones could be seen on her head. Her red, curly hair was tied in a bob, concealing its considerable length. The courier kneeled and presented the letter to Lysandus:

"Your Highness, I come bearing word from my lord, Mogref of Betony. He is sending you this letter. I was told to deliver it to Your Highness only."

Lysandus took the letter and opened it. Upon reading it, a surprised look took shape on his face. The surprise turned into concern quite quickly. He passed the letter to his wife, who read it with interest. A small "Oh!" involuntarily escaped her mouth. The king looked at the courier:

"You bring news of sorrow and need, my friend. It seems your lord is in grave danger. I do not know if I have what you seek, but please, spend the night here, dine and rest. I shall convene the council and consider what to do. Tomorrow at sunset the latest you'll have your answer!"

With a hand gesture, Lysandus ordered one of his knights to escort the courier to one of the many chambers reserved for guests. Soon they had dinner, yet neither the king nor his council could be seen. When the courier went to bed. He was of course anxious for his highness' response but could not help himself appreciating the castle and the big city. He had heard stories about Daggerfall and its prowess in the Bay, but he had no idea of how far Betony from it was. If Mogref had all the resources Lysandus had he would never worry about anything anymore. Although controversial, maybe asking this great kingdom for help had indeed been the right decision. Maybe in the end this will bring the peace and prosperity Betony needed and deserved. Alas, one could only dream of this while the king prepared his answer.

King Lysandus had indeed a very good reason not to show up at dinner. After the courier gave him the news about Betony, he rounded up his advisors and retread to the council chamber. Realizing the gravity of the situation, they began discussing the matter right away. The letter had impressed him: a Breton noble was giving away his right to rule for the sake of his people. Lysandus had been, by most accounts, a good king thus far. During his rule, Daggerfall maintained its position of power in the Bay. The most notable event was, so far, the famed War of Bend'hr Mark, when the Nords of Skyrim attacked High Rock and Hammerfell simultaneously. This led to a rare alliance between the two provinces and the many kingdoms of the Bretons cooperated. Daggerfall played a decisive role with its navy and Lysandus enjoyed much prestige as a result. Like in the time of his father, Arslan, Daggerfall still was one of the only three kingdoms in the Bay that could project its power and influence beyond its immediate neighbors. Only Sentinel and Wayrest could compare. Accompanying this, the Kingdom of the Dragon, as it was sometimes named, had a considerable army and one of the most if not the most powerful navies in the region. The city also had deep roots, boasting a past marked by traditions preceding Tiber Septim himself. Some Wayrestian nobles scoffed at this, thinking that Daggerfall was a backwater, soon to be engulfed by more modern players such as themselves. But Lysandus knew better. He envisioned a strong kingdom, with influence beyond its boundaries, to ensure security. His wife, Mynisera, was the daughter of a minor noble in Wayrest, Prince Klaius, famous for his triumphs against Orcs in those distant lands. Despite the fact that they fell in love as youngsters, it is undeniable that this marriage provided some ties with the nobility of the long-time rival. Then, his court mage was none other than Medora Direnni, the matriarch of the Direnni clan of the Isle of Balfiera. The Direnni were powerful sorcerers and as ancient as one could get. Their family could be traced back all the way to the First Era. Lysandus also maintained good relations with Lord Graddock of Alcaire, with whom he enjoyed that kingdoms forests and game in autumn. And lastly, possibly most importantly even, Lysandus was a personal friend of the Emperor, Uriel Septim VII. This friendship gained him the trust of the Imperial Palace, offering him favors in disputes and additional protection. Should the Empire be threatened to lose a powerful supporter in the region, Lysandus could be sure that Uriel would intervene in the interest of preserving Daggerfall and thus, his throne. Indeed, Daggerfall under Lysandus expanded its influence through good relations and skilled diplomacy and the only kingdom that wasn't yet touched by the king's presence was Sentinel. He and King Camaron were friends during childhood, but they have not seen each other for too long. As such, the powerful position the kingdom found itself in provided a comfortable launching point from which to conduct diplomacy and counter its enemies. Should a king be measured by the number of his friends, then Lysandus was perhaps one of the best kings in all Tamriel.

The council assembled. At the head of the table stood the king, the Queen at his side. Multiple nobles were seated around the table, the most important of personalities in the Kingdom. Nulfaga, the wife of Arslan and Queen-Mother, sat next to the king, dressed in an old-fashioned but charming, long dress. Lord Bridwell, the commander of the Knights of the Dragon, Daggerfall's knightly order and simultaneously the High Seaman, commander of all navies, stood opposite of her, near Mynisera. Next to him there was the court mage, Medora Direnni herself, a high elf with a sharp face and long, brown, and voluminous straight hair. Near a wall, not seated, stood Lord Mobar, the Captain of the Royal Guard. He was not on the council, but the king allowed him to attend anyway. Lady Brisienna Magnessen was another guest of the king, not having a seat, but being the emperor's official ambassador, Lysandus felt honor bound to include her. On the other side of the table, facing Medora, there was Lord Coulder, the Spymaster. Finally, Lord Rodard Buckinghart was present as the Treasurer of the kingdom. After all the courtiers arrived, Lysandus broke the silence:

"You might wonder why I gathered you here. At dinner time at that as well. I apologize for denying you the pleasures of the wonderful menu cooked by our friars, but we have more urgent matters to discuss. Today, in fact barely an hour ago, a courier came from Betony bringing this letter. Allow me to read it for your lordships:

Your Highness King Lysandus,

I am writing to you for I am in dire straits. Betony is, as I'm sure you've heard, plagued by pirate raids and ship heists. What you may not have heard however is how great the destruction is. Our ships are sunk, our men dwindling, our stores emptying and our defenses faltering. Betony is a good island, with the potential of a trade hub, and yet it is wasted on outlaws and marauders. We, the people of Betony of which I am lord of, humbly ask for your assistance with ships and men. We need your help and decisive hand to rid these waters of this plague that impoverishes everyone and threatens our very existence. In return we have but one thing to offer. For your protection, I, Lord Mogref of Betony, shall speak a vow of vassalage to you and bide myself to make sure that Daggerfall will always get its fair share of whatever trade comes through our humble ports. As long as you let us govern our affairs and keep our deeply rooted noble families in their ancestral lands, we shall be your most loyal subjects.

Hope to hear a word of friendship from you.

Yours,

Lord Mogref of Betony"

A feeling of pleasant surprise filled the room. For some this seemed too good to be true and doubt creeped into their minds. For others, this could only mean good news: if Betony was willing to subject itself to them, what possible disadvantage would this bring? A new ally and more trade seemed to be the only fruits of this endeavor. And what sweet fruits they were! Money, power, glory, influence and Daggerfall as the protector of smaller kingdoms and the rule of law! Led by an honorable king and his wise council that come to the help of friends in need. What better deal could they hope for?

Lord Bridwell spoke first:

"It seems, my lord, that this is an opportunity we can hardly let pass. Indeed, it would be most appropriate to respond to these calls of aid and send our navy to take control of the island."

"Fully agreed, your highness." Rodard Buckinghart said. "Betony has a tremendous potential, and such an endeavor is certain to bring honor and profit to us"

Lysandus appeared to be deep in thought for a minute. Then he spoke:

"Lord Coulder, what reaction could be expected from the other kingdoms? What do your spies tell you?"

"Your highness, Betony is rarely mentioned in the talks of other courts. Nothing more than one off remarks about how it's a shame that it fell into ruin. I assure you that should we move in, no one would have a claim."

"I can see that you, esteemed lords, are eager to expand and conquer. But watch your steps carefully, for the fruit that is gathered easily is often poisoned. I counsel you to think wisely and not rush into this." Nulfaga spoke.

"My queen, we have friends everywhere. If we control trade, we would be in a position to influence them by way of money. That assuming they would react at all. Daggerfall has a tremendous reputation thanks to our skilled king. Why wouldn't they have confidence in us?" Lord Bridwell replied.

"Medora. What do you think?" Lysandus asked the court mage.

"You are the king, and a noble one at that. A good king helps his neighbors should this be in his power to do."

Medora's words seemed to have moved Lysandus. A small smile could be seen on his face, expressing his joy. Indeed, he felt the same. Mynisera was shocked that the court mage dared to speak in such a direct manner. She looked at Lysandus expecting to see discomfort or even anger. Instead, she saw a pleased face, deeply thinking. This nobility of her husband was the main reason she fell in love with him all those years ago. His chivalric values, flawless courtesy and sensibility won over that young, somewhat naïve and idealistic lady she was. In the years since, their love only grew. At least until recently. Lately Lysandus began to be colder and less enthusiastic about them. Perhaps it was the crown that weighed heavily on his head. Or perhaps it was something else. Alas, Mynisera decided to speak her mind at the council, even though shily:

"My love, I think it is a great idea. It's a shame Betony has to be plagued by such outlaws. Why not help them, in fact?"

"Thank you, my love. You've only become wiser as the years have gone by. I've heard from all of you, my lords, and it seems that we are all in agreement then. I too believe that it is my duty as a king and good neighbor to help these poor people. I understand your calls for prudence, mother, but after all, what kind of example would I give my fellow knights if I couldn't be chivalrous myself? And what suffering would I cause should I not intervene? How many widows, orphans or slaves would I create? Tomorrow I shall send a letter to Mogref to tell him that I agree with his limitations. Lord Bridwell, we should begin to make preparations for this new quest. Send for the fleet to assemble and be ready at a minute's notice."

"Well said, your highness! I'll be ready with 20 ships as soon as the gods may allow!"

The council ended. All went to their rooms or their great houses in the city. Lysandus went to bed, content that he did the right thing. It seemed that all was well.

The next morning, he summoned the courier and handed him a letter. He told him that if Lord Mogref approves, then he need not send any response, but merely to wait for him in Whitefort in one week's time. The courier left with a huge smile on his face, having understood the message.

The next few days proved busy for the king, as he and Lord Bridwell organized all matters concerning the campaign. The High Seaman constantly supervised the training of sailors and ordered many weapons from the smiths in town. Supplies were quickly gathered from numerous merchants and farmers, and cartographers and historians were consulted about traditional pirate hideouts. Lysandus intended to rid the Bay of this danger once and for all, so he took matters very seriously, personally inspecting the troops and ships.

Finally, after five long days, everything was ready. Upon leaving, Mynisera saw her husband off with a kiss, sincere but lacking in the passion that once dominated their every interaction.

Lysandus exited the castle on horseback, with Lord Bridwell at his side and a column of knights and soldiers following them. They paraded along the boulevard, which was decorated with red and green flags, suspended between houses on a rope. People threw flowers at their feet. At a roundabout, the boulevard ended, splitting into three streets, one dead ahead to the south, one to the east and one to the west. They took the one to the west, that led to the Temple of Kynareth, Daggerfall's patron goddess. The parade performed a service for the goddess, hoping for good fortune in war. The message was clear to everyone: the king rode forth to battle against bandits, in a righteous war to help his fateful ally.

The plan was to spend the night at Copperfield Manor, a small hamlet near the coast that served as Daggerfall's port. Here, the king rented the entire inn for his inner circle, which consisted of Bridwell, Mobar, Medora and his son, Prince Gothryd. The rest of the men were going to the docks, to sleep in the lodges reserved for sailors.

Lysandus spent the evening talking with his generals. They were put on a show of force and have the entire fleet drop the anchor near the island. Then, they were to march to Whitefort and greet Lord Mogref. By nightfall, the Dragon flag will fly over all of Betony. When he retreated inside his chamber, he read until someone knocked on his door.

"Yes?"

"It is me, father" Prince Gothryd entered the room. He was a young lad, barely 18. His brown hair and clear face, without any beard were glowing in the light of the torches. "Are all preparations done?"

"They are, my son. It seems we'll be ready at dawn."

"Finally, father. We'll show the world what Daggerfall is capable of! No one will dare oppose us. You'll go down in history as its greatest king, the one who elevated it to the most powerful position in the Iliac Bay."

"You think so? I doubt it. This, I expect, will be just some small affair. We'll be a bit richer, but nothing more. Not that we would need it. Our friends are more valuable than a simple island."

"You know how these 'friends' you keep talking about are. They'd switch sides the moment it suits them. We need to be feared before we're loved."

"I know you love your country, Gothryd, but we do not need this kind of power. We can influence them through other means. A cat isn't as strong as a dog, but it also has the love of humans."

"But a cat will die if it meets an angry dog. But leave this aside. There has been talk among officers that you let Medora speak out of turn. What's this about?"

"What? She merely spoke in a more direct way, what of it?"

"Father, you know that courtiers gossip a lot. Of course, you are not one to cut tongues over such small issues, but they won't miss a chance to chastise the king."

"Why do you see enemies at every turn? Precisely because they gossip I won't bother. If I reacted to everything my courtiers say there wouldn't be any end to this cat and mouse game. At the end of the day, I'm the king and I'm interested in their obedience, not their opinions."

"But shouldn't a king be respected always and in all circumstances?"

"Yes, but this is not achieved by attacking them, but by standing above them."

"Not at the price of looking weak however." The prince said, raising his tone a bit.

"Did I look weak to you?"

"I wasn't there, but you might if you let too many things slide."

"Well, then I'll take care not to make such a mistake, such as I have so far. Would there be anything else?" Lysandus replied coldly

"No, father. Good night!"

Gothryd exited the chamber and left Lysandus alone. Towards the end of their discussion, a tension could be felt between them, frustration mounting inside the prince. The king spent several moments looking at the door and then returned to his reading. About an hour later, in the middle of the night, he heard the guards outside falling to the ground. The door opened and in came Medora Direnni, who put them to sleep using a spell. The king was pleased to see her. As soon as she entered, she locked the door and went straight to her lover, kissing him passionately.

"I'm glad you took me with you, your highness."

"How could I not, when it was your words that convinced me to do such a thing?"

Medora laughed shortly.

"I know you so well" she said playfully.

"You most certainly do, my love. I would expect so, after a full year of secret meetings and dark corners."

"And I adore you like it was the first day. Tell me, my Lysandus, what do you feel before this Betony business?"

"Truth be told, I'm tired." Lysandus sat on the bed. "I'm tired of court intrigues and politics. I crave a vacation, a break from all this. I feel the need to walk somewhere on an empty beach or in a forest and hunt. To be, just for a day, a random stranger and not Lysandus of Daggerfall."

"I noticed you weren't in your prime lately. Is Mynisera annoying you? Or Gothryd?"

"Sweet Mynisera is doing all she can. Rather Gothryd is annoyed at me more and more than the reverse. I don't know what to do with him. He's obsessed about Daggerfall's power in armies and glory on the battlefield. I never wanted a war, much less so now. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's bloodthirsty."

"He's young, give him time. The blood won't boil in his veins so strongly forever after all. If you need, send him to Skyrim. He'll have his fill of war and glory before Uriel dies. Or better, to a brothel."

"You're not serious!" Lysandus laughed.

"No, no, I'd be much too scared to invoke the wrath of the mighty prince of Daggerfall."

The two spent the night together, dreaming of a life they did not and could never have. A life together, free from the restrictions of the court. How much would they give to be free of these expectations, only they and the gods knew.

Uriel Septim VII, Emperor of all Tamriel was sitting at a desk in the Imperial Palace. It was the afternoon, and the sun illuminated the papers that were one day to become his diary. The emperor was still relatively young, in his 40s, and but for the receding hair, one could not tell. His hair was yet to become white, his aging halted by the slowed time he stayed in Jagar Tharn's dimension. A member of the Blades, the emperor's personal guard and intelligence service of the Empire, entered and handed him a piece of paper.

"The Great Knight wanted me to hand this to you, my lord." He said and left without another word.

Uriel looked at the paper with a satisfied look on his face. "So, it is done", he thought. His agents had completed the task.

Uriel got up and exited the room. It was time to see the fruits of their labor. Things were going well.