Tales of the First Era: Alessia

by Blackvvater

In the earliest days of recorded history, a half-elven Breton finds himself swept up in a war between the oppressive Ayleid Empire and their human slaves - a war that will determine the fate of Cyrod and the course of history for Tamriel.

13. Chapter 13: Impasse

Chapter 13

Impasse

As the last remnants of the Ayleid army fled north, Perrif's army slowly approached the entrance to Atatar. When they were within a few hundred yards, the massive bronze gates slowly swung open to allow them into the city. Atkynd briefly wondered if the act was one of welcome or surrender, until he noticed that the two guards manning the walls were humans wearing bronze armor. They were dirty, bloody, and exhausted, but they were clearly relieved to see Perrif's army, and they waved warmly down at the Paravant's warriors as her army slowly filed into the city.

Once through the gates, Atkynd nudged Emero out of the way of the stream of soldiers to better survey the city. It was a grim scene. The walls of the proud, pristine marble homes of the nobility were cracked and scorched, with collapsed roofs buckled over broken pillars that could no longer support their weight, and shattered statues reduced to scattered pebbles littering the streets. The thatch and reed huts of the slaves were in even worse condition, with many reduced to smoldering cinders – only a lucky few remained undamaged. Dark scorch marks marred the cobblestone streets, though the steadily falling rain had doused any nascent fires before they could spread. Worst of all, human and Ayleid bodies alike littered the ground, sprawled across the roads, or twisted over stone benches and atop the battlements. The blood in the streets pooled in dark puddles and flowed in thin streams between gaps in the white cobblestones.

Perrif took a few moments to sorrowfully eye the devastation as a group of human warriors approached her. One of them wore a stolen Ayleid helmet decorated with the signature feathers of a commander, and it was she who inclined her head as she stopped a few feet short of the Paravant. Atkynd nudged Emero a bit closer to the group so that he could hear what they were saying.

"Greetings, my lady," the woman said in a hoarse voice – likely from shouting orders all battle, Atkynd inferred. "You are the Paravant, yes? We were told to anticipate your arrival. Our apologies that we couldn't receive you properly."

"Given the circumstances, that's understandable," Perrif replied grimly. "You have nothing to apologize for. What is your name, warrior?"

"Cacil, my lady," the woman replied, inclining her head.

"Well met, then, Cacil," Perrif said, inclining her head as well. "Tell me, who leads this city, and may I speak with them?"

Cacil hesitated, looking away uncomfortably. "I'm… unsure, honestly," she admitted. "We don't exactly… have a leader right now."

Perrif raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Pray, were they slain during battle? Or did you simply not have any one person incite you to revolt?"

"It's… a bit of a complicated story," Cacil replied slowly. "And one that might take some time to explain. Would you perhaps like to retire to the palace, so that we might speak more comfortably?"

"Ah… a fair point," Perrif admitted, holding her hand out and letting a few drops of rain splatter against her palm. "While it pleases me that Kyne is favoring us with her blessings, I could do with a dry cloth." She glanced over her shoulder and added, "Morihaus, Pelinal… Atkynd. If you all would accompany me?"

Atkynd nodded, and Morihaus let out an assenting snort while Pelinal grunted and sheathed his weapons before walking over to stand beside her. Perrif turned around and raised her voice to address her waiting army.

"You all did well in the last battle! Your valor and skill are to be praised! Well done in seizing victory!" The men let out a cheer, which Perrif allowed to linger for a few moments before she held up her hand. "Now, however, there is much to be done. Men and women of Atatar, you have accomplished what many thought impossible by breaking the chains of your oppressors, and then holding your city and securing your freedom from those that would steal it from you once more! Yet, it has clearly come at a terrible cost to you all. Therefore, allow us to aid you in rebuilding your lives. Centurions! We will begin repairing Atatar at once. Focus your efforts on the walls first, and then set to work restoring the buildings. Take what provisions we have and distribute them evenly – ensure that no one goes hungry. And take care that your men are fed as well! I shall return shortly to oversee your efforts. Until then, men, work diligently, and obey your centurions. And once again… well done!"

There was a chorus of 'ayes', and the centurions immediately began barking orders while the populace of Atatar looked on in stunned silence at the unexpected aid. Atkynd smiled softly, then noticed a small figure weaving his way through the crowd. A young boy approached Atkynd, hand extended to take Emero. Atkynd smiled down at him and slid off the horse, nodding to him in thanks. He watched as Emero was guided to the stables, and then he fell into step behind Perrif as the small group followed Cacil silently to the palace. The only sounds were the clanking of Pelinal's heavy boots, the clapping of Morihaus' hooves against the slick cobblestone streets, and the soft pattering of the rain against the ground.

When they neared the palace, Atkynd noticed that it had suffered significant damage. Three of the pillars holding the roof up had collapsed, and a fourth was dangerously cracked, though miraculously, the structure was still standing. The walls had scorch marks and chips in the marble brickwork, and corpses of both humans and Ayleids were sprawled across the stairs. Their escort gingerly led them around the bodies and up the stairs to the heavy bronze doors. Two armor-clad humans inclined their heads and pushed open the doors for them before standing aside. Cacil strode ahead of them into the palace, then turned around, folding her hands behind her back.

Perrif stepped past her and approached the throne, whereupon she reached out and ran her hand along the smooth marble. She then turned around and faced the female officer. "So… first order of business," she said. "Let's address your lack of a leader. What happened?"

Cacil exhaled slowly. "As you guessed, he was slain shortly before you arrived. A few days ago, a messenger from Arpenia arrived and sought us out. He explained that he had taken great pains to bluff his way past the Ayleids guarding the gates so that he could meet with us slaves personally. We were told that the slaves in Arpenia intended to rebel, and he suggested that we do the same while our king was away. He assured us that we would have Arpenia's full support if we did. As expected, most of us balked, but he spun tales of a slave uprising, of an army commanded by a young woman who had the favor of the gods, and that this woman would come to our aid, as she sought to liberate all of Cyrod. Though many of us were still hesitant, an older slave named Thesus convinced us that fighting and dying was better than continuing to live in these tortuous conditions, and that we would have no better opportunity. This was our best, and perhaps only, chance to claim the city for ourselves. He encouraged those of us willing to join him to do so, and eventually, about five hundred of us agreed.

"Thesus led us to the armory, where we surprised the guards there and managed to seize some weapons. From there, we set about slaying the few Ayleid soldiers assigned to guard Atatar while the army was away… and capturing any elf who decided to surrender. Everything was going well… until Thesus was killed by a few guards that had managed to elude us deeper in the city. We defeated the guards and restored order, but before we had a chance to recover and decide on a new leader, we were attacked by another army, one that we didn't recognize. We had control of the walls, though, so we sealed the gates, armed the other slaves, and settled in for a siege. It's been rather chaotic since then. Those of us that Thesus assigned as leaders took groups of men to different parts of the walls and tried to hold the line. Though I'm pleased that we drove back the attackers, we now find ourselves at a loss about what to do next. In truth… I'm uncertain who is leading the city anymore."

Perrif folded her hands behind her back and began pacing, looking down thoughtfully. "Indeed?" she asked, seeming uneasy with that revelation. "A pity. Is there no one left that you believe at least has notable leadership qualities?"

"Well… none like Thesus," Cacil admitted hesitantly. "No one else is eager to step forward to take command of the city, at least. Most of us are used to following commands, not giving them. Though… I suppose, if you're looking for leadership experience alone, there are the Ayleid nobles…."

Perrif tilted her head back slightly. "Some nobles still live?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, my lady," Cacil replied. "Our rebellion was a surprise to the Ayleids, and rather than fight, many of them surrendered to us. Before he perished, Thesus insisted that we accept their surrender and take them prisoner rather than slaying them. He told us that we should not repay cruelty with cruelty. They are being held in the vaults, under close guard. We were hoping you might know what we should do with them."

Perrif looked down again, chewing on the bottom of her lip. "We'll deal with that in a moment. First, the question of leadership." She turned to Atkynd, tilting her head slightly. "Do you have any suggestions?" she asked. "Is there perhaps a record of what a kingdom does when there's no clear heir to the throne?"

"Mm… there are a few examples you might use as a reference," Atkynd replied after a moment's thought. "The Nords, for instance, elect their High King with a moot. However, the problem here is that those candidates tend to be nobles who are already somewhat experienced with the art of ruling, whereas the most we have here are a couple of hastily appointed rebel commanders." He covered his mouth with his hand thoughtfully, then added slowly, "I don't suppose that any of you were placed in secretarial positions?" When Cacil looked uneasy, he weakly added, "Are any of you at least literate?"

"We… we are not," Cacil murmured, sounding ashamed. "To our former masters, we were little more than cattle, fit only for labor or to serve as entertainment. None of us were placed in a position of trust, and no one here has learned to read. Only the Ayleids were given that sort of education."

"Ah, good," Pelinal growled off to the side. "Justification for the elf to place another Ayleid on the throne of yet another city we've just captured."

Atkynd resisted the urge to shoot the knight a glare, though he did hear Perrif shush the knight. He folded his arms over his chest, chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. He had momentarily considered suggesting an Ayleid ruler for the city like in Veyond, but while installing an Ayleid king in Atatar would at least solve an administrative problem, Atatar was not Veyond, and the circumstances of its capture were far different. For one, the Paravant's army had not truly liberated the city. It sounded to him as though Atatar's rebellion had been at least partially successful before the second Ayleid army had arrived. As such, the legitimacy of the kingdom's ruler could only be rightfully decided by the citizens of Atatar itself.

An Ayleid king was not a viable solution anyways, he thought ruefully. Even if Atatar's Ayleids didn't have a particularly brutal reputation– a reputation that Atkynd doubted Glinferen was solely responsible for – if they placed an Ayleid on the throne after the rebellion, he had no doubt that the first decree of the elven king would be a wholesale massacre of the slaves for daring to rebel. No… in this case, Atatar needed a human ruler.

Atkynd looked up and gazed past the door and into the streets at the Paravant's army, briefly watching a group of soldiers work to heave a heavy marble brick back onto the crumbled wall. If there was no one in Atatar that could lead… then perhaps a temporary solution lay in Perrif's own camp, he realized. "For now, the most important thing is to obtain information about Atatar itself," he said, looking up again and turning back to Perrif. "To that end, I would suggest assigning one of the secretaries from Arpenia to Atatar. Let them take a census of the population, and perhaps interview some of the members of the rebellion. Those that seem particularly intelligent and charismatic should be trained in management and literacy. If a strong candidate emerges, the secretary can make a recommendation to the populace and allow them to decide if they agree on this new ruler, with the secretary remaining in the city in an advisory capacity."

Perrif tilted her head thoughtfully at the proposal, then slowly nodded with satisfaction. "That… will suffice for now, I think," she agreed. Then she turned to Cacil. "Do you concur?"

"I… don't have any objections. And I doubt any of my comrades would either," Cacil admitted. "I also rather like the idea of receiving an education…."

"That's settled then," Perrif nodded. "I'll determine which of our secretaries should remain behind. In the coming days, decide which amongst you seems cleverest, and we'll arrange for proper tutelage. I believe you and your fellow officers would make excellent initial candidates. After all, your leader, Thesus, clearly saw something in you, else he would not have placed his trust in you. I'll accept his judgment, as he would know better than I."

"You honor us," Cacil murmured modestly. After a moment, she looked up again, a darker look settling over her face. "Now… would you like me to show you to the prisoners?"

"…Yes," Perrif sighed. Atkynd glanced at her and noticed her stiffening, as though bracing herself for what was to come. "Show me to the vaults."

The woman nodded grimly and turned on her heel, slowly walking out of the palace with the small group in tow. As they crossed the wet grass, Atkynd fell into step beside Perrif, frowning deeply at the look on her face. "The vaults?" he asked in a low voice.

Perrif shot him a sidelong glance. "Many Ayleid cities have underground vaults that serve a variety of purposes. Some are simply used to store valuable treasures. Others serve as slave pens, or even torture chambers."

"Oh… yes," Atkynd grimaced, remembering the Ayleids from the Sanguinalia festival discussing flaying one of the slaves after emerging from underground.

"Regardless of their purpose, the vaults are the most secure location in an Ayleid city," Morihaus added. "If the walls of a city fall, the defenders will fall back to the vaults, which typically have traps to deter invaders. Poison, swinging blades, magical wards… anything that wishes to enter must fight through a gauntlet of deadly implements."

"Or anything that wishes to escape," Pelinal added.

Cacil abruptly stopped in front of a tall set of archways surrounding a circular staircase descending into the earth. The heavy stone entrance was guarded by a quartet of humans wearing bronze armor, all of whom were warily watching the doorway. Their guide briefly spoke with one of the guards, who nodded and moved aside. She nodded to Perrif and motioned the group forward as she pushed open the doorway and they all stepped inside.

The first thing Atkynd noticed was a long staircase descending into a deeper set of marble caverns carved into the earth. The underground was faintly illuminated by several small, glowing white stones embedded into the walls, which barely allowed him to see in the gloom. Two humans flanking the door and wielding spears momentarily flinched at their entrance, but relaxed when they recognized the intruders as human. They nodded warily to Cacil and turned back around, staring venomously down at a restlessly shifting crowd below them.

In the dim light, Atkynd made out hundreds of figures huddled together. They clung to each other for warmth in the cool air, some leaning against the walls, others sitting on the ground and staring blankly at the cold floor. A few of the men were glaring defiantly up at their captors, while one or two women tended to small elven children quietly sobbing into their chests. Cacil shot the crowd a pitiless look, then turned to Perrif.

"It's only because of Thesus' command to spare them that these… mer still live," she explained, practically spitting in disgust. "He said that he would decide what to do with them once the rebellion was won, but obviously he didn't have the chance to provide us with further instructions. So, any advice you might have would be greatly appreciated."

"Ah. That's simple. Here is what you should do," Pelinal responded as he removed his helmet, a bloodthirsty grin spreading across his face. He dropped his hand to his waist and loudly drew his sword, the sound echoing off the hollow walls. The elves let out mixed cries of horror, despair, and anger when they saw him unsheathe his weapon. As he advanced on the helpless captives, the other guards' eyes lit up. One seemed uncomfortable, but the other appeared eager to agree to Pelinal's suggestion.

"Hold!" Atkynd cried, his voice echoing off the walls. He began to move to intercept Pelinal, but stopped himself, realizing that he would just be putting himself in danger. Instead, he turned to Perrif. "You can't allow him to slaughter surrendered captives!"

"Why?! They would do no less to us!" the more bloodthirsty guard asked coldly. His partner, though still seeming uncomfortable, nodded in agreement.

Atkynd hesitated, swallowing hard. The man had a point. If they were ever captured, the Ayleids would show no mercy to them. If they were lucky, they would be killed outright. If not, they would be brutally tortured and probably put on display as an example to any other slaves who dared show defiance. And that included himself, he noted. However….

"Yes… you're correct. They wouldn't," Atkynd conceded, turning towards the Paravant. "However, we're not speaking of their conduct, but ours. If we begin slaughtering prisoners who have surrendered, it will become far more difficult to engage in diplomacy with any Ayleid kingdom, even potentially friendly ones. They will interpret your actions as an announcement that you intend to completely exterminate the Ayleid race. Potential allies will balk at siding with you, and enemies will fight that much harder against you, knowing they have nothing to lose. This war will not end until you've spilled an ocean of blood." Perrif exhaled slowly, clearly displeased, until Atkynd added, "What is your goal, Paravant? Do you wish to liberate your fellow humans, or do you wish to exterminate the Ayleids? The former can be accomplished with far less bloodshed, but only if you show restraint here. When you ceded Veyond to an Ayleid king, you signaled your willingness to compromise with mer to achieve your goal of liberation. Kill these prisoners, and you will undo that gesture entirely."

Perrif regarded Atkynd silently for several long moments, and then she turned towards Pelinal and held up her hand. "Stand down, Pelinal," she said in a low voice.

The knight growled, rounding on Atkynd, his blue eyes blazing with fury. "Yet again you plead for mercy for those who have shown none!" he snapped. "Coward!"

"I'm not asking for mercy out of weakness. Nor out of compassion," Atkynd responded coolly. "This is pragmatism. I was asked to offer my advice from a diplomatic perspective. In this case, refraining from acts of petty vengeance benefits the rebellion more in the long run."

"Yes, and by allowing these elves to live, you provide them a chance to return to the battlefield, where they will pose a threat to us in the future," Pelinal countered viciously. "And they may yet kill more of our men. But at least your hands remain clean of blood, yes?"

A flash of anger shot through Atkynd. He stepped a bit closer to the knight and hissed in a low voice, "Then it's fortunate that you're bloodthirsty enough for both of us, isn't it? If you wish to bathe in Ayleid blood, so be it. But do it on your battlefield, not on mine."

"Enough!" Perrif said sharply, stepping between the two men just as Pelinal's sword hand twitched. The flash of anger that had shot through Atkynd dissipated as quickly as it had come, and he suddenly felt ashamed that he'd let his indignation get the better of him. He suddenly became very aware that every eye, human and Ayleid, was on them, and that an awkward silence had settled over the caverns. His pointed ears began burning, and he stepped away from Pelinal, who likewise stalked to another corner of the room, though he seemed more enraged than embarrassed.

Cacil hesitantly glanced between the two men, then coughed lightly. "Very well. We won't execute the captives. However, we must still decide what we are to do with them. We can't very well let them back into the city, can we?"

Perrif glanced between her two advisors, then looked up at the ceiling in contemplation. After a few moments, she looked down and replied, "For now, they shall remain here. These caverns should serve as an adequate prison until we can come to a proper decision about what to do with them." After a moment's thought, she added, "You may also feed them the slaves' rations. We've survived on scraps for years. They can do so as well."

At that last bit, the more bloodthirsty soldier seemed to perk up, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face at the thought of punishing the Ayleids, if only a little. At Perrif's declaration, however, a thick Ayleid woman let out a shriek.

"You can't! You can't treat us like this!" she protested.

Perrif turned towards her, a look of utter disgust settling over her face. "And why shouldn't we?" she asked in a dangerously neutral tone. "You won't be harmed. Be grateful for that. We must conserve rations until we can rebuild the city. And as the humans are the ones doing the work, it stands to reason that they should receive more food."

"But… you're used to a slave diet! We aren't!" the woman protested.

"I can attest to that," Atkynd heard one of the guards comment, loud enough for the room to hear. "She used to be my mistress. She used to gorge herself on five meals a day. I was lucky if she threw me a scrap of bread."

The woman flushed, glancing around furtively. Then her eyes fell on one of the youngest elves. "At least feed them properly!" she pleaded. "Think of the children!"

Perrif's eyebrow twitched as she glanced at the elven child as well. For a moment, she seemed to consider the request. Then her eyes trailed down to the bronze manacles clasped to her wrists. An icy expression settled over her face as she looked back up at the woman.

"Did you?" she responded coldly. The elven woman's eyes bulged with fury, but she was unable to reply. Perrif stared down at her for a moment longer, then turned and began climbing back up the stairs.

"As I said. The rations you received," Perrif muttered to the guard, who smirked and nodded to her. Cacil quickly pushed open the door for her as she ascended, and Perrif climbed out of the caverns with Morihaus, Pelinal, and Atkynd on her heels.

Perrif managed to keep her composure until the door closed. Then abruptly, she sagged and covered her eyes with her hands. She slowly ran them down her face, and when her hands fell to her sides, she suddenly seemed utterly exhausted. Not that it was surprising, Atkynd suddenly realized. They had been traveling and fighting ever since the Battle of the Blackwood, with little time to rest and recover. And Perrif had been at the forefront of everything, constantly giving out new orders and deciding their next action. He suddenly wondered how much sleep she'd had in the past few weeks.

"Right," Perrif said, exhaling and straightening up again. "Now, our next objective-."

"Our next objective is to take advantage of this momentary peace," Morihaus suddenly softly interrupted. "You have not eaten since yesterday. Nor have we."

Perrif turned to face him, her eyes widening. "There is no time!" she protested, her voice cracking slightly. "First, we must-!"

"Your men have been given their orders," Morihaus cut her off, gently but firmly. "Most of the army is working to repair the city, and the scouts have yet to return with their reports. Until we receive more information about the enemy, we cannot determine our next action. It is unlikely that we should expect a counterattack in the foreseeable future if we did indeed chase them across the river. Thus, it would be prudent to rest while we can."

"But-!" Perrif insisted.

"Is there any food that is readily available?" Morihaus asked, turning to Cacil. Atkynd's eyes widened in shock. This was the first time he'd seen Morihaus outright ignore Perrif's commands. Perrif seemed equally stunned, as she simply gaped at the minotaur's winged back.

Cacil glanced back and forth uneasily, until Morihaus snorted, prompting a response. "Y-yes," she stammered. "We… we have plenty of food in the palace, and the servants can certainly provide you with a meal. It's the least we can do as thanks."

"No! I will not take what little this city has left!" Perrif insisted. "The citizens have just fought two devastating battles, and-!"

"Rest assured, my lady, Atatar's food stores are quite full," Cacil assured her gently, catching Morihaus' eye. "Because you lifted the siege swiftly, we were hardly impacted. And our victory calls for a celebration, even if it's a small one."

"…But… the men…!" Perrif said weakly, seeming to shrink into herself.

"Need time to eat as well," Pelinal chimed in suddenly. Atkynd glanced at him, surprised that he was taking Morihaus' side rather than advocating pursuing the Ayleid army.

Perrif glanced between the pair, then shot a helpless look at Atkynd, seeking him as her last ally. Atkynd, however, innocently held up his hands. He wasn't going to argue with two ada when they had their minds made up about forcing her to rest. Especially since he agreed with them.

Perrif glared at the trio, then let out a long, slow sigh and held up her hand in defeat. "Very well," she finally conceded. She glanced at Cacil out of the corner of her eye. "We shall adjourn to the palace for now."

"Very good, my lady," Cacil smiled, inclining her head in a light bow, and she immediately led them back to the palace, with Perrif flanked by Pelinal and Morihaus. Atkynd trailed behind them, suppressing a smile as he imagined them preventing her from running off to oversee another task.

Once they entered the palace, a young man dressed in a grey chiton motioned politely for them to follow him. He guided them down a hallway into an empty dining room. A long, rectangular, wooden table dominated the center of the room, with over a dozen seats flanking each side. The servant motioned for Perrif to take a seat at the head of the table, which she did after some brief hesitation. Then, when she saw her advisors hovering in the archway, she scowled and irritably waved at the other seats.

"Join me!" she commanded. "You three will not press me to eat and then stand around like statues while I dine!"

Morihaus and Atkynd shot each other looks, each tacitly inviting the other to sit first. Pelinal, on the other hand, immediately accepted her invitation, striding confidently to the seat at her left hand and collapsing in it with a deep sigh. Morihaus and Atkynd watched him silently, then turned back to each other. After another brief pause, Atkynd made a subtle motion with his hand, inviting the minotaur to take the other seat nearest to Perrif. The minotaur snorted, but then stomped over to the seat and slowly sank down into it. The hard wood groaned slightly under his weight, but it held. Still, Morihaus was clearly uncomfortable, as his hips hung over the sides of the seat, his knees were folded halfway up to his stomach, and his wings draped over the back. Nevertheless, he didn't complain, save for an occasional twitching of his golden feathers. Suppressing a smile, Atkynd slipped into the chair beside him.

Shortly after they were seated, the servant returned, carrying a large silver tray laden with food. He set it between them and stepped back, allowing them to inspect the offering. The tray bore three loaves of soft white bread, a wheel of smooth, beige cheese, several cured sausages, and a variety of fresh fruits, including citrons, figs, apples, and grapes. A few moments later, a young woman hurried into the room after him, carrying an amphora full of rich red wine and four clay cups, which she set before the guests. She then stepped back to hover by the wall, ready to attend to any needs they had.

Pelinal immediately seized one of the loaves of bread and tore it in half, stuffing the bread into his mouth without pretense. After some hesitation and glancing back and forth between Perrif and the tray, Morihaus reluctantly took a second loaf for himself, while Atkynd and Perrif traded a quick look and silently decided to share the third. Atkynd drew his knife and cut it in half, offering the larger portion to her, and then he took some of the cheese and sausage, which he piled onto a chunk of the bread before biting into it. They feasted in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of their dining mercifully drowned out by a pair of servants softly playing a flute and a lyre to entertain them as they ate. When the tray was emptied, the servants returned with yet more food. Though both Perrif and Atkynd declined a second serving, Pelinal eagerly devoured the offering, and after some hesitation and an encouraging smile from Perrif, Morihaus did the same. Once he was finished with his meal, Atkynd leaned back and enjoyed the music, idly gazing around the opulent dining room's decorations. His eyes roamed along the sculptures of elven warriors and the frescos decorating the walls, wondering at the stories behind them. Eventually, both Morihaus and Pelinal had eaten their fill, and the servants returned to remove the tray. Atkynd was idly watching them clear the food when an idea struck him.

"A moment," he said, beckoning the young man closer. In a low voice, he asked, "Could you provide me with a smaller portion of that meal, perhaps in a basket?"

The servant seemed surprised by the request, but bowed and nodded in affirmation. Atkynd shot him a grateful smile, and then he sank back into the cushion of the chair. He glanced over at Perrif to see if she wanted to return to her work, but then he noticed that she was sitting in her chair with her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes closed. At first, he thought she was praying or meditating, but then he noticed her swaying slightly, almost as if she was on the verge of dozing off. It seemed the fatigue of the last few days was finally setting in.

Atkynd smiled to himself and decided to let her relax in peace while she had the chance. He once again leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, humming along with the piper when the musician played a tune he recognized. After the musician had played three songs that he knew, he began to wonder if the Ayleid connection to the Altmer still influenced their songs and stories, and how much they had deviated over time. It was an idle thought that kept him pleasantly occupied as he followed the notes and chords of the music. Pelinal, meanwhile, initially seemed to grow increasingly restless, but he finally managed to occupy himself by inspecting his sword, his mace, and then his armor. Morihaus, on the other hand, walked a window and stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he watched his men working to repair the city. Thus, it was the minotaur that first spotted someone running through the crowd towards them.

"A messenger approaches," he announced in a low rumble. Perrif's eyes slowly opened, though she kept her hands clasped in front of her. Pelinal and Atkynd glanced at each other, and both straightened up in their seats just as the doors to the palace were pulled open and a young man burst through the archway and into the dining room.

"My lady! I have… a message… from your scouts," the young man announced breathlessly as he put one hand on the archway to steady himself. Perrif regarded him for a moment, waiting patiently for his report. He took a deep breath and swallowed before straightening up. "Our men pursued the enemy army north, until they reached a bridge spanning the width of a river – much smaller than the Niben, but large enough that they couldn't cross it without swimming themselves. The enemy joined a much larger army waiting on the other side of the river – perhaps thousands of warriors, at a guess. When they saw this, our scouts decided to turn back before they were spotted."

"I see," Perrif nodded, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin on them. "Do we know the identity of the army that was attacking Atatar?"

"Yes… one of our men is from this region and recognized the device on their shields," the scout replied. "The army is from Morahame, a kingdom that lies a short distance north of here, across the river that I mentioned – the Panther River. We believe they were the ones who initiated the attack. Though…."

"Though?" Perrif pressed.

The scout cleared his throat. "That wasn't the only army that was involved in the siege. Some of the men report that Ayleid warriors were also carrying shields that bore the crest of Atatar itself."

Perrif frowned, while Pelinal let out a derisive scoff. "I'm hardly surprised," the knight remarked irritably. "After days of pursuing them, we could only chase them so far."

"Yes, but apparently this alliance is highly unusual," the scout continued. "According to our scout, Atatar and Morahame are rival cities that constantly fight for control of the Panther River. They were at war with each other when the rebellion began, and had been for years. Thus… we do not understand why the King of Atatar would choose to ally with Morahame."

"Simple," an unfamiliar, drawling voice piped up from behind the scout. "It's because King Glinferen has no other choice."

The quartet in the dining room craned their necks, trying to peer around the corner, as a newcomer stepped into the room and bowed. Though clearly human, he was unlike any man Atkynd had ever seen. His skin was a gleaming bluish-silver, and he had long white hair which was twisted in a style that reminded Atkynd of several strands of rope. He was also nude, and seemed shamelessly unaware of his state of undress. He strode boldly into the room as the scout behind him winced.

"Forgive me, my lady," he muttered weakly. "I intended to introduce you when I was finished delivering my report. We encountered this… man near the bridge across the Panther River, and he insisted upon accompanying us back to Atatar."

"That's not entirely accurate," the silver-skinned man lazily corrected him, lacing his fingers together and folding his hands behind his head. "I'd been observing Atatar since before Morahame's forces attacked it, so of course I witnessed your victory. I just wished to see what Morahame's army would do upon being defeated before I decided to introduce myself to you."

"…I see. Well met," Perrif said evenly. She kept her expression neutral, though Atkynd could tell from a very slight quaver in her voice that she was quickly becoming annoyed with the man's lackadaisical attitude. "However, you have us at a disadvantage. If I might ask, who are you?"

The man grinned broadly and put his hands down, dipping into a deep bow. "My name is Zendren. I come as an emissary from the kingdom of Twyllbek, in the region that you know as Argonia, Histland, or the Black Marsh. I've heard all three."

"Is that so?" Perrif asked, leaning in a bit more. "Well then. You mentioned that King Glinferen had no choice but to attack Atatar again? How did you reach that conclusion?"

"I've been observing him for several days, and this alliance with Morahame was not his first scheme," Zendren replied, smirking. "His first instinct was to plead for help from my fellow citizens – the Ayleid citizens of Twyllbek. You might know them better as the Barsaebic Ayleids of Black Marsh," Zendren added, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

Pelinal's eyebrow twitched, and Morihaus let out a short snort. Perrif glanced between them, then turned back to Zendren. "If I might clarify… he approached your kingdom asking for sanctuary?" she asked, sounding skeptical.

"He did. Or, at the very least, he requested our aid in reclaiming Atatar," Zendren nodded, walking over to the chair at the end of the table and putting his hand on it. Perrif motioned for him to sit, and he immediately slipped into the chair, then leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "A few days ago, I was in the palace of Twyllbek when we received word that an Ayleid scout from Atatar was requesting an audience. Naturally, we were suspicious, but our king – formerly the Ayleid king of the city of Wendelbek – agreed to grant him an audience. The scout announced that King Glinferen's army had recently been defeated by a human rebellion from southern Cyrod. King Glinferen had managed to rally the few survivors and was now camped on the border of Cyrod and Black Marsh. He was pleading for refuge based on his shared Ayleid heritage with the King of Twyllbek. In exchange for entry into the city, he offered to lead a joint Ayleid army back into Cyrod to crush the rebellion before it became a threat to Twyllbek. After all, he claimed, these rebels intended to slaughter all Ayleids, everywhere. Were Cyrod to fall, Twyllbek would be next."

Out of the corner of his eye, Atkynd noticed a thoughtful smirk spreading across Pelinal's face. When he noticed Atkynd staring though, he glared back and then returned his attention to the emissary.

"What was your king's reply?" Perrif pressed.

Zendren chuckled maliciously. "Despite King Glinferen's 'heartfelt' plea, our king was unmoved. I recall that he seemed to savor the moment, and then he firmly and bitterly rejected the scout's request. He pointed out that for all of King Glinferen's appeals to their shared blood, none of that had mattered in the slightest when he led the crusades against the Barsaebic Ayleids fifty years ago. Our king was a prince at the time, and still vividly remembers the tortures and massacres King Glinferen gleefully ordered against his people. That he would now come begging for mercy would have been hilarious to our king had it not infuriated him so much. He was even tempted to send his own army to finish off the remnants of Glinferen's army himself. Nevertheless, our king checked his temper and allowed Glinferen to remove his army from our lands, warning him that if he ever set foot near Twyllbek again, our king would lead a purge of his own."

Pelinal let out a short bark of laughter. "A bit of poetic justice there, eh?"

"Indeed!" Zendren grinned. "In any case, once we had confirmed that King Glinferen had departed, I was assigned to shadow his army, to discover what his next course of action was. He led his men back west into Cyrod, and several days later arrived at the gates of Morahame. There, he requested an audience with their king, which was apparently granted, as his army was allowed inside the city. I dared not approach, so I'm unsure what was said between them. A few nights later, however, King Glinferen departed the city at the head of an army of Morahame's warriors, along with his remaining contingent from Atatar. They marched south and began laying siege to Atatar, intending to storm it by force. The siege only lasted a day, however, before you and your army arrived. Rather fortunate for the citizens here, knowing Atatar's former king," Zendren added blithely.

Perrif frowned, turning to Atkynd. "What could King Glinferen offer Morahame that would convince them to ally with him?" she asked.

Atkynd rested his elbow on the table and used it to prop up his chin as he looked up at the ceiling. "Truthfully, I don't know," he admitted after a few moments' thought, looking down again. "I'd need to know more about Morahame itself."

The others around the table traded uncertain looks, but a servant who was walking by caught Atkynd's question. "Morahame, my lord?" she asked. "I know a bit about it… or at least the stories we were told." Atkynd tilted his head slightly, then nodded, encouraging her to proceed. She set down the amphora of wine she had been carrying and folded her hands in front of her. "As its name – 'Home of the Dremora' – implies, it is a kingdom that was founded by powerful daedra worshippers. It's said that they draw their power from Mehrunes Dagon himself, who teaches their acolytes dark secrets in exchange for regular sacrifices in his name. Any slave within its walls lives with a death mark upon them, as at any moment, the Lord of Destruction might demand they be sacrificed." She shivered slightly. "As cruel as King Glinferen was, Morahame is a literal gateway into Oblivion itself."

"How cheery," Atkynd remarked drily. "Thank you." The lady nodded meekly and picked up the amphora again as Atkynd turned back around. "If that's true, then this was likely a deal made in desperation. King Glinferen may have agreed to allow Morahame to sack and loot his city. If Mehrunes Dagon demands human sacrifices, King Glinferen might have offered his slave population in exchange for their aid. It was what he intended to do anyways, and perhaps he thinks it's better to rule a hollow shell of a city than nothing at all. Otherwise… perhaps he offered portions of his own army?" Atkynd then shrugged. "Of course, this is all speculation. And irrelevant." He took a deep breath and added, "In any case, if you wish to offer diplomatic overtures, I doubt that either King Glinferen or the King of Morahame wish to negotiate."

"If I asked, though, would you attempt to open a dialogue with them?" Perrif asked slowly.

Atkynd hesitated, grimacing. He was under no obligation to agree, but…. "If you asked me, I would do what I could to at least arrange a meeting," he replied slowly. "But as I said, there would be little chance that either of your enemies would be willing to meet with you, and I believe that approaching them myself would be tantamount to suicide for me."

Perrif sighed lightly and folded her hands in front of her. "Then another battle is our only option."

"As it should be," Pelinal grinned. Perrif shot him a glance.

"So it would seem. I don't relish the idea of engaging in battle if we can avoid it, but if that is not an option here… very well," she sighed, straightening up. Then she turned her gaze towards the silver-skinned man sitting back in his chair with his hands folded on his lap. "What of the Barsaebic Ayleids?" she added. "Are they willing to negotiate with us?"

"Negotiate? Perhaps," Zendren replied slowly. "However, I have been instructed by my king to relay that under no circumstances will we ally with your rebellion."

"No? Not even if we agreed to help recapture their lost kingdoms?" Perrif suggested. When Zendren tilted his head, she added, "I understand that your king and his people used to worship the Divines. That was why they were expelled from Cyrod in the first place, yes? In that case, we share a commonality, a culture that ties us together. If we can negotiate from that perspective-"

"Yes, you and my king worship the same gods," Zendren interrupted, holding up his hand. "However, there are a few reasons why my king has no interest in providing troops to aid you in this war. First, a military alliance with your rebellion offers him little beyond exacting revenge. While it would be satisfying to see Glinferen's humiliation should you emerge victorious, it would also be costly to Twyllbek. And for what? Even your offer to help reclaim Wendelbek, while generous, means very little. The city is a ruin. It would require substantial effort to rebuild it to its former glory." A soft smile spread across Zendren's lips. "And the Barsaebic Ayleids are no longer the elves of Cyrod. They have made new lives for themselves in Black Marsh. While there are still many who remember the Scouring of Wendelbek, their children were born and raised in Argonia. That is their home now, and to uproot them and transplant them to an alien land would be unfair to them. So… no, my king will not agree to an alliance with your rebellion."

Perrif frowned deeply and looked down, contemplating. Atkynd, however, had noticed something in the way Zendren had worded his rebuttal. He didn't say anything, though. He was curious whether Perrif would notice as well. She continued to stare down at the table, tapping her fingers against it thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, her eyes lit up.

"You… said that your king would not agree to a military alliance," she said slowly, turning her gaze back to Zendren. "Does that mean that he is unwilling to lend us any aid whatsoever?"

"What do you mean?" Zendren asked.

"We are not only in need of warriors," Perrif explained. "Would your king at least be willing to trade with us? After all, we do also require supplies, particularly food and cloth."

Atkynd beamed with pride, and when Perrif glanced at him, he winked at her in approval. She smiled slightly back at him, then turned back to Zendren, who ran his hand across his chin, considering her request.

"Mm… we have had a rather bountiful harvest, and we are at peace…." he replied slowly. Then he tilted his head. "But what do you have to offer that would interest us?"

Perrif's bright expression dimmed slightly, and she turned to Atkynd, silently asking for his opinion. Atkynd sat back in his chair, gazing around the room as he considered the question. His eyes raked over the Ayleid frescos, the statues….

"What if we were to provide your king with Ayleid artwork in return?" Atkynd suggested. He leaned back and motioned over his shoulder at a painted statue of a winged Ayleid warrior holding a large, round shield. "These are fine pieces that have little value to the rebellion, but your king might appreciate them."

"Why would he want symbols of his oppression and defeat littering his palace, reminding him of his failures?" Zendren countered.

Atkynd smiled, not allowing the sharp rebuttal to throw him off. "These wouldn't be symbols of failure, but reminders of his heritage, his homeland. Perhaps we could even travel to Wendelbek and reclaim some works from the ruins. You claimed that his children have grown up in the Black Marsh and know little of where their parents' homeland. What better way to educate them?" His smile turned malicious as he added, "Or, perhaps he'd prefer trophies from Atatar, the very kingdom that exiled him and his people in the first place? It must bring him some satisfaction to have symbols of Atatar's power stripped away and adorning his throne room instead. What better insult to a hated enemy?" Atkynd shrugged. "Either way, these pieces are quite valuable. If nothing else, he can sell them himself for additional revenue. Far more than he would enjoy from the harvest alone."

Zendren folded his arms and sat back, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. After pondering silently for a short while, he looked back down with a shrug. "I must speak with the king to determine whether he finds your proposal agreeable," he admitted. "And we must meet more formally to discuss numbers. Nevertheless, I see little reason why we can't arrange a trade agreement. Bear in mind, however, that my king might find the prospect of negotiating with former slaves laughable, so I can't guarantee he will approve. Though he worships the Divines, he is still an Ayleid, after all, and he has a dim view of humanity."

"Of course," Atkynd nodded, sitting back in his chair. "Nevertheless, thank you for at least considering the offer."

"Wonderful," Pelinal snarled. "However, none of this resolves our most pressing issue. Scout!" he barked, turning back to the young man who was still hovering near the doorway. The scout jumped, then stepped forward. "You claimed that Morahame controls the only bridge across the Panther?"

"Yes, Lord Whitestrake," the young man confirmed with a nod of his head. "There was a large army gathered on the other side of the river. I spotted armored infantry, archers, and daedra, all watching the river closely."

"Damn," Pelinal hissed. "So long as they control that bridge, they hold an excellent position. Dislodging them will be difficult should we choose to attack."

"Then should we wait for them to cross the river and fight them on more even ground?" Perrif suggested.

"Mm… we could," Morihaus rumbled. "However, I doubt that the Ayleids are foolish enough to surrender their advantage. So long as they hold the bridge, they can dictate the terms of our next battle, as we must be the ones to make the first move. If we don't, they can simply hold the bridge for as long as they wish. The one positive is that if they choose to do nothing, they will give us time to rebuild and recover. And I doubt they will allow us that luxury. This city is in poor condition. I doubt that it can withstand a prolonged siege, and if the Ayleids continue to send scouts across the river, it's only a matter of time before they discover how precarious our position is."

"Then it would be wisest for us to strike first?" Perrif asked.

"Ideally, yes," Pelinal growled. "A head-on bridge crossing would be a pointless waste of men, however. Though our warriors have become comfortable fighting as a phalanx, a bridge limits how many men we can send across at a time. The army defending the bridge is free to assault the attacking army with archers positioned along the riverbank, while the warriors crossing the bridge can do little to retaliate. They must weather the attacks and pray that they can break through the enemy lines before too many of them fall. It's a dangerous prospect."

"The other option is to find a way to slip around behind the enemy and assault them from the rear," Morihaus added. "To do so, however, we would need to find a way to cross the river at another location."

"That'll be dangerous," a servant piped up from the corner of the room, where he was sweeping up some dust from the marble floor. Everyone turned to look at the old man as he explained, "The Panther has swift currents and a deep bottom. At least a few children have died trying to swim in it, despite us warning them not to."

"Mm. And fording it while wearing armor will make crossing it that much more deadly," Morihaus remarked.

"I also noticed smaller patrols disappearing into the jungle to the east while I was observing Morahame," Zendren added. "It's likely that they'll have small parties ranging along the river to prevent a crossing."

"Do you happen to have a map?" Perrif asked, turning to the servant.

"I believe so, yes," the man replied. He set the broom against the wall and hurried off, returning a short time later with a papyrus map of Cyrod. He unrolled it and laid it out flat across the table, whereupon they all crowded around it.

"Hm… if we can't ford the river, why don't we march around it?" Perrif suggested, tracing her finger along the edge of the map.

"It's a possibility," Morihaus acknowledged. "However, that will be a trek of several days through the jungle. It will require a great deal of food, and travel will be very slow. There's also always the threat of disease and fatigue…."

"And if we split our army, Atatar will have an even more difficult time fending off another attack from Glinferen," Pelinal added, folding his arms across his chest.

"A fair point," Perrif conceded. "Are there any points in the river that are shallower or narrower, perhaps?"

"We might try crossing here, or here," Morihaus suggested, running his large right hand along the tuft of fur under his chin while pointing with his left hand. "Though there's a high chance our army would be spotted by Morahame's scouts. Any further downriver, though, and we risk leaving Atatar underdefended…."

Atkynd had been studying the map upside-down, though until now, he had been keeping silent. He didn't know enough about military affairs to offer his opinion, after all. As he continued to stare at the map, however, his gaze traveled north, and his eyes fell upon a familiar set of letters. An idea suddenly struck him, and he looked up.

"The Kingdom of Nenalata is a short distance north of Morahame," he pointed out. "How quickly could one reach it from here?"

The others at the table quieted down, and Morihaus took a moment to trace it with his finger. Looking back up, he frowned. "Three days? Perhaps two, if you hurried and the weather was fair. Why do you ask?"

Atkynd's eyes lit up, and a slow smile began spreading across his face. "I had a thought. While Tari and I were traveling, we were aided by a prince of Nenalata. He seemed quite reasonable, and his kingdom is apparently in dire straits. They're surrounded by enemies on all sides and, from the way he was speaking, on the verge of collapse. What if we were to offer them an alliance? Trade with both Arpenia and Atatar would alleviate many of their economic problems, to say nothing of Veyond controlling access to the Niben and opening the river to foreign goods. We could, in essence, save their kingdom if they agreed to aid us. In exchange, they could provide us with a seasoned army that could attack Morahame from the rear. If successful, we could encircle the enemy and destroy them in one fell swoop, yes?"

Zendren frowned deeply. "If you can make it," he retorted. "As I've said, there are dozens of patrols scouring the jungle. It will be exceedingly difficult to avoid them."

"Well… yes, there is a danger," Atkynd conceded. "But a small group would have a better chance of slipping past them undetected than an entire army, yes?"

"Are you certain that you can convince this kingdom to ally with us?" Perrif asked.

"No," Atkynd admitted. "But at least we can make an attempt. Nenalata did not strike me as the sort of kingdom to imprison and torture emissaries, so it's likely that the worst they will do is say no. In that case, we simply reconsider our options with our army alone."

"Mm. I dislike this idea," Perrif admitted. "If you're captured, it'll likely mean your death, and I don't wish to lose our best emissary."

Atkynd chuckled. "I'm pleased that you value my skills, but it's evident to me that you're well on the way to becoming an excellent diplomat yourself. After all, you already negotiated one trade agreement. Now you simply require experience. But between your natural charisma and your insight? I feel you hardly need my aid much longer."

"Well… thank you. But that aside, I'm personally fond of you, and I'd hate to lose you," Perrif added.

Atkynd blinked, then grinned sheepishly. "You flatter me," he muttered.

"Also, what of the return journey?" she added suddenly, catching him off-guard. "You must get word to us, yes? Even should you secure an alliance with Nenalata, they would need to devote part of their army to escort you, or you must risk returning to us by yourself. Crossing the river once is dangerous. Twice is pressing your luck. And how would we coordinate an assault on the bridge with our new allies if we did not have word of their arrival?"

Atkynd held up his hand, then turned to one of the servants. "You have a rookery, yes? To deliver messages between kingdoms?" The servant nodded, and Atkynd turned back around with a smile. "There you have it. Many cities have falcons to deliver messages, and they're trained to travel to even hostile kingdoms. I'll simply send a note with a falcon once my negotiations are complete."

"…I cannot read," Perrif pointed out flatly.

"You have several secretaries who can," Atkynd countered, a grin spreading across his face.

Perrif sighed, staring down at the map for several long moments. Finally, she murmured, "…Very well. If you're set on pursuing this course of action, I'll permit it. However, you'll not undertake this journey alone," she added firmly. "I'm going to assign you a scout to help you traverse the wilds. Pasare is one of my best, and you two seem to be getting along well, so I feel she would be an excellent choice." A slow smile spread across her face. "And I'm certain that Tari would go after you herself even if I forbade it, so take her along as well."

"…As you say," Atkynd conceded, inclining his head. He knew it was pointless to argue, and in fact, he was rather glad that he would have companions.

"In the meantime, Morihaus, once the city is in an acceptable state, take part of the army and fortify near the bridge. Should Atkynd return with another army, we will need to strike swiftly." Morihaus bowed, while Perrif turned to Pelinal. "I would like you to explore our side of the Panther River. Determine if there is a shallow crossing we can use, and where patrols are the lightest. Please return before nightfall so that we can use that information to aid Atkynd in his journey."

Pelinal shot Atkynd a look, but rose without complaint and bowed his head. "As you command, my lady." He turned on his heel and strode quickly out of the room, not bothering to glance at Atkynd as he swept past.

Perrif turned back to Atkynd and nodded towards the interior of the palace. "As for me…." She sighed heavily and looked down. "I believe I shall rest. As Morihaus and Pelinal said, I should take advantage of the peace while we can. And… I must confess, I am very tired."

"I concur. That's a wise decision," Atkynd nodded. Perrif glanced up at him and smiled faintly.

"You should rest as well. And do try to enjoy the bed," she added, her smile turning playful. "Gods know you'll miss it when you have to bed down in the swamp again."

"I don't know… a soft patch of mud can be quite comfortable," Atkynd replied nonchalantly, grinning at her as she began chuckling while servants led them to separate rooms deeper in the palace.