Skingrad, Cyrodiil
Skingrad, Cyrodiil
Second Seed 3rd
The sun was barely over the horizon when Martin and his entourage crossed the stone bridge and arrived at the eastern gate to Skingrad. The stones of the bridge and the city wall reflecting the orange hue of the early morning sun. The group was met at the gate by the Count's Steward and two others. "My liege, we are honored to have you visit our humble city," he said.
Martin looked at Lydia. "I sent a runner ahead, sire," Lydia informed him. Martin nodded and looked back at the Steward.
"I am Silas Vitelius, Steward to Count Hassildor," the Steward continued. "The Count regrets that he is unable to meet you here personally, but he has instructed me to provide for your every need. If you will permit, my associate here will take good care of your horses and I would be honored to show you through our fair city.
Martin dismounted from his horse. "I appreciate that, Silas, but if you could just take us to General Blackmane, that would be best."
Silas bowed deeply, "As you wish, sire. He is staying at the West Weald Inn. Please follow me."
The rest of the detachment dismounted and the two men with the steward took the reins of the horses, leading them to the stable. Martin, Lydia and the soldiers followed the steward as he led them through the gates and into the city.
The city was just starting to wake up. Sounds of early morning filling the streets. People were going about their daily routine. It seemed a little odd with a war going on not too far from the city. There were a fair number of Imperial soldiers walking the streets, but the citizens paid little attention to them.
The steward led the group along the main avenue of the Hightown District. The eastern part of the district was mainly residential. As they moved to the western part of the district there were shops and inns.
The Steward took them to the entrance of one of the inns. "This is the West Weald Inn. It is the oldest and most prestigious inn of Skingrad. Legend states that the Champion of Cyrodiil himself stayed here."
The steward noted the lack of reaction from the group. "Ahem. Anyway, this is where you will find General Blackmane. Please do not hesitate to call on me should you have any needs at all."
"Thank you, Silas. Your assistance is very much appreciated." Martin replied. Then he and his group entered the inn.
Martin was surprised to see it filled with people so early. The ground floor was about half full with patrons eating breakfast and half full with soldiers milling about. There was no formal announcement of his presence, but the atmosphere changed dramatically when he entered. Soldiers sat up straighter. Patron talked quietly.
The proprietor rushed up to him. "My Emperor! What an honor! How may I serve you today?"
"Good morning to you, sir. I am looking for General Blackmane," Martin replied.
"He is on the third floor." The proprietor grabbed a passing barmaid. "Liandra will show you to his room. I'll have some of our finest food sent up straight away."
"That is appreciated, but there is no need."
"Oh, I insist, your majesty. Please, it would be my pleasure."
Martin looked at Lydia who shrugged. He turned back to the proprietor. "Very well, then. Thank you."
Liandra led them up the stairs to the third floor. "That's the general's room," she said pointing to a set of ornate doors.
"Thank you, Liandra. That will be all for now. Please ensure we are not disturbed."
"But the food?"
"You can set it outside the room when it is ready. Thank you," Martin dismissed her and entered the room, his detachment following behind him. He wasted no time getting to the point with General Blackmane.
"Igmund, what happened?" Martin asked.
"My liege! We were overrun!" General Blackmane exclaimed.
"Clearly." Martin was a little exasperated. "How big was the Thalmor contingent?"
"Uhh, it was hard to say. We were outnumbered for sure!"
"Outnumbered? Outnumbered, how? By how much? How many troops did you lose before you retreated? How many after?"
"We're still…still compiling the numbers…"
Martin was starting to get upset at the lack of answers. "How far did the Thalmor advance?"
"Not very far from what I heard?" General Blackmane answered.
"What you heard? What you HEARD?" Martin was quickly becoming frustrated. "Let me tell you what I heard. I heard you broke and ran at the first sign of trouble. I heard you lost half your troops covering your retreat. I heard General Laudis stepped up and held them off, advancing to the Gold Road where he managed to stop them. I heard you refused to support him in pushing them back. Can you explain any of this, Igmund?"
"My liege, it's not what you think?"
"Oh really? Pray tell, what do I think?" Blackmane's lack of answers were answer enough for Martin. Martin was angry now.
General Blackmane was indignant. "You left me without sufficient resources to do my job properly! You think you can crown yourself emperor, start a war and have everyone follow you to their death? Do you know what the Thalmor did to us last time? I had to preserve the legion!"
"Preserve the legion? You lost half your troops in a retreat!" Martin raised his voice. "Your orders were clear. Hold the line. Prevent the Thalmor from crossing into Cyrodiil at all costs. You didn't even put up a fight, did you?"
"You think me a coward?" Blackmane challenged.
"I think you're incompetent. If you have a problem with me, fine, but you allowed half your troops to be slaughtered. You gave them no direction, no leadership. You turned tail, ran and let them get picked off covering your fat arse in retreat."
General Blackmane stood and looked down at Martin. "Now you listen here, you welp. YOU are the one who is incompetent. You know absolutely nothing about fighting a war. We were in no shape for this. You are throwing away the lives of good people, and for what? You are going to destroy what little of the empire is left."
"No, General, it is impotent fools like you who will destroy the empire. You are relieved of command. Effective immediately."
General Blackmane drew his sword and moved into a threatening stance.
In response, Lydia and the rest of the detachment drew their swords and surrounded Martin.
Martin waved them away. "General Igmund Blackmane. You are hereby stripped of your rank and dismissed from the Imperial Legion. In addition, due to cowardice in the face of the enemy, disobeying direct orders, placing the empire in harms way and threatening me, your duly crowned emperor, you are to be thrown into the Imperial Prison until such a time as I determine that you have been punished sufficiently." He turned toward his detachment. "Arrest Igmund and bring him to the prison."
The soldiers surround Igmund Blackmane. Igmund looked around. He opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it and sheathed his sword. The soldiers led him away in disgrace.
Martin shook his had sadly. Then he turned toward the Legate in the room. "What is your name, Legate?"
"I am Legate Xander Orthus, my liege."
"Legate, Orthus. You are acting commander of the Fourth Legion. Your orders are to assemble every imperial soldier in Skingrad and head along the Gold Road. Report to General Tullius and station your troops as ordered. Please remind the General that his orders are to drive back the Thalmor, but not to cross into Elsweyr."
"Understood, my liege." The Legate left to carry out his orders.
White Gold Tower, Imperial City
Second Seed 4th
It was just after the midday meal and Martin was meeting with all of his senior military officers. Praetor Jonna was much improved in health and sat at the Emperor's right hand. Lydia, stood behind Martin, just to his left. They were in the war room and discussing their next moves.
General Tullius was briefing the group. He had only just returned from the Elsweyr border shortly before the meeting. "The arrival of the remains of the Fourth Legion was timely. We were able to push the Thalmor back into Elswery by nightfall yesterday. Per your orders, we held at the border. We camped their overnight to ensure they would not try again. This morning they made another push into Cyrodiil. I regret, sire, that we did briefly cross the border during the Battle. However, once the Thalmor sounded their retreat, we pulled back and are currently maintaining our lines just north of the border."
Martin thought for a moment before responding. "During the chaos of battle, lines on a map do not exist. You kept the spirit of the order by pushing them back into Elsweyr and maintaining camp on the border. I appreciate what you and General Whitestone accomplished over the past two days."
Tullius nodded and sat back down.
General Whitestone stood, "If you will permit, my liege, I will brief all on the status of our legions."
Martin nodded and Whitestone continued. "General Blackmane lost half of the fourth legion during the Thalmor's initial push into Cyrodiil. General Laudis lost approximately a quarter of his troops stopping the Thalmor. During our drive back we lost about the same from our combined force. And when we took Arenthia a few days ago, we lost a quarter of the both the first and second legions. Thus far we have lost a total of one and a half legions, the soldiers were either killed or too injured to return to service."
"And the Thalmor?" Martin asked
"We estimate the Thalmor have lost three divisions. However, I would caution my liege that they started out with far more troops than we did."
Martin nodded, "Thank you General. Gentlemen, I have a bold proposal to help fill out some of our losses. I would like to offer amnesty to any former Stormcloaks who are willing to fight the Thalmor.
General Tullius noticeably bristled at the suggestion. General Whitestone didn't seem t0o pleased, but Praetor Jonna nodded thoughtfully. "Tullius, part of their plan, after throwing out the empire, was to march on the Aldmeri Dominion, was it not?"
"Yes, sir, based on our intelligence, that is an accurate statement."
"And many of them were former Legionaires, no?" the Praetor pressed.
"Yes, sir, that is also accurate," Tullius grudgingly conceded.
"I know this idea does not sound appealing to some of you. If you have alternatives, I am open to hearing them." Martin offered.
The table was silent for a moment, and then Tullius spoke, "I have seen your ferocity in battle against the Stormcloaks, and I heard what you did saving Whiterun, so I am a little surprised by your suggestion, but I can see the point that Jonna not so subtly was making. I'll be honest, I am not fond of the idea, but I do not think we can hold our own let alone push into the Dominion without them."
"Any other thoughts?" Martin asked. "I know it's not a popular idea, but it may be what we need." Martin looked around the table. Every General met his gaze. Finally, he looked at Jonna, who nodded slightly. "It's settled then. Send riders to every hold in Skyrim. Announce amnesty to all who are willing to fight the Thalmor. All who wish to join up are to meet with General Rilke in Solitude. Leave one cohort each of archers and light infantry with Legate Aldis and all other troops are to report here in three days."
A series of nods around the table. "Ok, General Whitestone, when your Legion is reinforced, take them to Thormar Keep. Our next target is Silvernar. General Aerin and his Fifth Legion will cover your flank. The Fourth Legion, once it's restored will cover your rear."
"Who will command the Fourth Legion?" General Whitestone asked.
"For now, General Rilke will command, since the bulk of it will be her troops." Martin responded. Whitestone nodded.
"Ok, gentlemen, if there are no further questions, I will leave you to plan the details of liberating Valenwood."
"Actually, sire, there is one thing, if you please," Whitestone said.
Martin motioned for him to continue.
"Igmund. I heard you had him thrown in prison. Isn't that a bit…harsh?"
Before Martin could respond, Lydia stepped forward, "He tried to kill the emperor," she hissed angrily.
Martin held up a hand. Lydia took a breath and stepped back. Martin looked at General Whitestone. "What would you have me do, Rorik? As Lydia mentioned, he pulled his sword out and threatened me. We can't let that go unpunished."
"No, my liege, of course not," Whitestone said carefully, "and it's true that Igmund and I did not see eye to eye on many things, but he did serve the empire with distinction…until recently that is. Maybe…house arrest?"
"What would you have done if one of your soldiers pulled his sword out and threatened you?" Martin asked. "Surely you are not suggesting two tiers of justice?"
"Of course not, my liege. I am merely asking that you take his years of service and distinction into account when you consider his sentence. I would do the same with any of my soldiers," Whitesone said.
Martin looked around the room, down at the table, then at Jonna. Jonna nodded slightly. Martin looked down at the table again and then back at Rorik. He took a deep breath. "Ok, Rorik, I will have him moved from the prison to his home. He will remain under house arrest for the duration of the conflict and then his sentence will be re-evaluated."
"Thank you, sire. Shall I go inform him?" Whitestone asked?
"No. Thank you. I'll do it." Martin replied.
"My liege, if I may," Jonna began.
Martin held up a hand. "I know what you are about to say, Jonna. And I know I am more hands on than most of you are used to. Frankly it's what I'm used to. I have spent my entire life taking care of myself, doing what is necessary and making things happen. I know I need to delegate more, but in this particular instance…I need to talk to Igmund myself."
Jonna nodded in acceptance, as did General Whitestone.
"Ok, then, please plan the details of our campaign. We reorganize the legions in three days and move on Silvernar in four. Let's make sure we're ready." Martin rose and left the room. His generals got to planning.
Emperor's Living Area, Anteroom
Though it had been a few weeks, Martin did not have a workroom of his own. He had the throne room for audiences, but that was too formal for day to day affairs. Martin took to working in his living area when he had business to conduct, and some more of the less formal rooms in the palace for official business without outsiders.
Martin was reading through some reports from some of the lower level bureaucrats and was amazed that the government of the empire kept churning regardless of who the emperor was, or even if there was an emperor in place. He realized he needed to set up his own personal council to handle the various affairs, or at least so he could be kept informed.
His thoughts were interrupted when a guard knocked on his door. "Forgive the intrusion, sire, but Ambassador Elnath Nazari from Hammerfell is here with urgent news."
Martin put down his reports and headed to the door. "Lead the way," he said.
The guard led him to the same room that he had his initial meeting with the Hammerfell Ambassador. The hall was pretty ornate. There was a long table, with ornate chairs going down either side. Columns lined the room and a long purple rug, with gold lining ran the length of the room. Various banners and tapestries lined the walls.
The Hammerfell Ambassador rose immediately when Martin entered. Martin dismissed the guard and turned towards the Ambassador. "Ambassador Nazari, to what do I owe the honor?" He said.
"I'm afraid I come with grave news, Emperor Septim."
"Please, call me Martin. What is this news?"
Elnath took a deep breath. "Thank you, Martin. Permit me to be blunt. The Thalmor are invading Hammerfell again."
"Wait. What? Seriously? This is because war has started again."
"I'm afraid so, Martin. This was not unexpected, but the timing is earlier and the size of the invasion force is larger than we had anticipated. I've come to ask for your help. You said you wanted reconciliation-"
Marin held up his hand. "You do not need to justify your request. I meant what I said. What is the size of the invasion force?"
"It appears to be three divisions, heading by sea. They appear to be headed for Gilane."
"Gilane?" Martin inquired. "Forgive me, I'm not all that familiar. With Hammerfell."
"Gilane is in the Khefrem region, in Southwest Hammerfell. It sits on the neck of a peninsula. If the Thalmor take that city, they have a large section of territory that they can use for resupply and troop landings. It could be disastrous." Elnath explained.
Martin closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked directly at Elnath. He made a snap decision that would affect the outcome of the entire war. "How many troops do you need?"
"We have about a dozen Arifs that we can bring to bear immediately," Elnath responded.
"Forgive me, but Arif?"
"Ahh, yes, sorry. An Arif is roughly equivalent to one Imperial Cohort. Each one is led by an Amir. We do not organize them into legions or divisions. We keep our units a little smaller to make them more versatile and more mobile." Elnath explained.
"Ok, so you have a little more than one legion against three divisions." Martin noted.
"Yes, and we can probably bring a few more to meet them, but not enough to break any siege of the city."
"How long can the city hold out?"
"No more than a week."
Martin thought for a moment. "Ok, I'll need to talk to my generals, but we may be able to bring two legions to assist. It will take a few days, though. Probably two days to muster our forces and two days to march on the city."
Elnath nodded. "I'm not sure if our forces can hold, but we'll do our best."
"Do you have a military liaison here with you?" Martin asked.
"I have a military member on my staff, but he's fairly low ranking."
"May I request you give him the authority to make high ranking decisions and coordinate with my Praetor? Also, while I will leave the details to the military, may I suggest your forces hold back until ours arrive?"
Elnath considered what was being requested. "I can give him the authority he needs until the proper liaison can be brought in. As for holding back. We can suggest that, but it would mean allowing the Thalmor to lay siege to Gilane and then breaking the siege from the outside."
"Given the timing, that might be our only option, but I will go with the recommendations of my generals."
Elnath nodded. "Fair enough. I will send our officer over to being coordination today."
"I will go inform my generals immediately of our change in plans."
"I cannot thank you enough," Elnath said. "I told you actions would determine our future and these actions will go a long way."
War Room
After meeting with the Ambassador, Martin immediately when back to the war room. The sun was very low in the sky, but his generals were still hard at work planning the dispensation of available troops, as well as their next moves in the war.
"Gentlemen, I appreciate your hard work today, and I regret that I have a major change," Martin said without preamble.
"What is going on, my liege?" Jonna asked.
"The Thalmor are invading Hammerfell, heading for Gilane."
"Spineless Skeevers!" Laudis shouted. Then he caught himself. "My apologies, sire."
Martin actually chuckled briefly. "No need for apologies. We're all thinking it. I believe Rorik would call them 'milk drinkers,' no?"
General Whitestone smiled slightly, but said nothing.
"Gentlemen," Martin continued, "After the Great War, the Empire turned its back on Hammerfell. Their citizens suffered greatly as a result. We cannot undo what happened then, but we can change things now. We can be better. We can do better. They may be Redguards, but they are our brothers and sisters. We cannot abandon them, not again."
General Laudis stood, "My emperor, your majesty, I would like to volunteer the Third Legion to assist the Redguards."
Martin was taken aback. That was the first time Laudis had actually treated him like a leader and he was volunteering for a mission that, on its surface, had little to do with empire.
"My liege," Jonna began, "We will need to adjust our plans slightly, but I believe that is doable. If I may?"
Martin nodded and motioned for him to continue.
"We were going to use General Aerin's Fifth Legion to fill out the rest and then have Rilke's troops backfill Aerin's. We were hoping to fill out the rest with trainees and recruits to give us five full legions again. I would recommend still doing so and sending the Third and Fourth Legions to Hammerfell. Rilke's troops can help guard the border.
Martin thought for a moment. "That's a solid plan, but time is of the essence. What if Rilke moved for Hammerfell and met Laudis there?"
Jonna rubbed his chin, "That would potentially provide less troops to defend Gilane, but it would give us more to protect our borders. I take it going for Silvernar is on hold?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Martin replied. "I would like the Second Legion to hold Arenthia and help guard the border. We'll fill out the Third Legion to defend Gilane, and keep the rest of the troops in the Fifth Legion. Aerin will help support Tullius and his First Legion in guarding our border. I do not think the Thalmor are expecting us to help Hammerfell, but there is a chance they could try to take advantage and make another push into Cyrodiil."
"Forgive me my liege," Tullius spoke up, "but I do not think two partial legions will be enough to defend our border."
Martin sighed. "I believe you to be correct. Whitestone will help but there is not much left of the fourth Legion. I am going to have to ask for help myself, I think. Would a division of the Redoran Guard help?"
Every general at the table showed a look of surprise.
"The Dunmer helping the empire? Impossible!" Aerin said.
Martin smiled. "I know, it is impossible. But let me tell you what else is impossible. A living Bosmer going into Sovngarde, but this living Bosmer did." Martin looked around and then continued, "It just so happens that I saved the life of an important Dunmer councilor, so there is a chance they may help. If they are compensated appropriately, that is."
"If you can pull that off, my liege, then we can help Gilane and defend our border. Offensive operations will have to be put on hold, but once we help Hammerfell, we can continue those," Jonna said.
"I can't promise, but I will absolutely do my best."
Imperial Prison
Second Seed 5th
The prison was dark and cold, a stark contrast to the warm and beautiful sunrise that was outside. The guards had offered to accompany him, but Martin chose to head down alone. He was walking towards his former general's cell when he heard, "Cadriel!" He had gotten so used to Martin, that hearing his birth name threw him off slightly.
He stopped and looked around. Delphine was standing in one of the cells. It looked like Esbern really was trying to make her comfortable. There was a rug on the floor and furs on the cot. Martin walked over to her. "Delphine, good morning. What can I do for you?"
"I just…I just wanted to say…I'm sorry."
Martin was caught of guard. He struggled for a response before stammering, "Thank you, Delpine. That means a lot."
Delphine could not meet his gaze. She looked down and away. There was an awkward silence for a few moments. Martin wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words, so he turned and walked away. He made a mental note to talk to Esbern when he had the chance.
Martin kept walking until he found Ingmund Blackmane's cell. The former Imperial Legion General had his back to him. Martin waited for a moment, drew a breath and said, "Good morning, Igmund."
Igmund was a little startled, but he recovered quickly. He turned around. "Good morning, Emperor Martin Septim II," he replied, keeping his voice neutral.
"Igmund, I have decided to commute your sentence."
Now Igmund was visibly shocked and this time he did not recover so easily. "What?" was all he could say.
"I am commuting your sentence. You will be released from prison this morning. You will be escorted to your place of residence where you will remain under house arrest for the duration of the conflict with the Thalmor. You will have two soldiers assigned to you to attend to your needs for food and supplies. In addition, you will receive half of your pension."
Igmund speechless, so Martin continued. "When the conflict with the Thalmor has ended, your sentence will be reconsidered. I make no promises now, but there is a chance your house arrest may be lifted at that time."
"But…why?" was all Igmund could stammer.
"I'll be blunt Igmund, you do not think I am a good emperor and I do not think you are a good general. The Divines decided we were to work together, and I believe the Divines want us to work together still. You did appear as if you tried to kill me, however, and I believe penance must be paid." Martin explained
Igmund had recovered from his initial shock and was able to reply, "I make no excuses for my actions. It was rash and impulsive and I beg your apology, my liege. I pray you learn from my mistakes as well."
Now Martin was caught off guard. "How do you mean?"
"This may cause you to change your mind about commuting my sentence…"
"It won't, go ahead," Martin assured him.
"Understand, I only see in you what I seen in myself. Sometimes you can act rashly and impulsively. You see what that got me. It cost me half my legion and resulted in my imprisonment. You, however, are in a position where it could affect the entire empire…in fact, the entire continent. I know we did not work well together, and you are right, I did not think you a good emperor, for the reasons I have just listed. I ask now, my liege, do not act out of rashness or impulse, but consider your actions before you take them."
Martin was stunned, not so much by his words, but by his tone. Igmund was respectful and sincere, two things that had been lacking since they met. "Igmund, I will consider your words carefully and I will commute your sentence as promised. Two soldiers will come by shortly to assist you and escort you to your home." Martin didn't know what else to say, so with a nod, he turned and left, ensuring his orders regarding the former general would be carried out.
Emperor's Living Area, Anteroom
Second Seed 6th
Martin was sitting on a stone bench in his anteroom. Most of them had plush cushions, but he found them uncomfortable and preferred the bare stone. He was deep in thought over his morning encounters.
"What's on your mind, my Thane?"
Martin started at Lydia's question. He was so lost in thought that he hadn't realized she'd been standing there.
"Thane. Haven't heard that in a little while. Things were so much simpler and not all that long ago," Martin mused. "I am used to surviving, used to doing what needs to be done and used to making things happen."
"And now?" Lydia asked.
Martin shrugged. "Now, those skills seem to be a hindrance. I'm used to making snap decisions, negotiating my way out of tough spots and fighting my way out when I couldn't negotiate." He let out a sigh. "Now it's not just me, but an entire empire that needs to survive."
"I am your sword and your shield, whether you're my Thane or my Emperor…"
"but…" Martin interrupted.
Lydia smiled, "But there is a use for each. The trick, the skill, is knowing when to use the shield and when to use the sword."
Martin looked at her, once again amazed at her insight. "There is more to you than meets the eye."
Lydia smiled at him, but quickly looked down and away.
"Please," Martin motioned next to him on the bench. "Sit."
Lydia sat next to Martin on the bench and looked at him expectantly.
Martin opened his mouth to say something, but the words failed to materialize. Finally, he looked away, trying to regather his thoughts. Finally, he stood and started pacing. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he was at a loss for words. He paced back and forth for a few minutes and then blurted out, "I have a special mission for you."
Lydia seemed taken aback a little, as if she was expecting something else, but she recovered and asked, "What is it, my liege?"
Martin sighed, while he did, in fact, have a mission for her, that was not what he had wanted to say to her. Martin sat back down on the bench, "I'm sorry."
Lydia smiled warmly. She had traveled with him long enough to understand exactly what he was talking about. "How may I serve you?"
Martin looked down at the floor briefly and then back at her. There would have to be time to talk about his personal feelings later. For now, there was a war to fight. "There is a parcel I had prepared. There are several letters in it. Most of them are for Kharjo, but there are also letters for Ahkari and Ri'saad. I cannot trust them to a normal courier. In fact, I can't trust them with anyone…except you."
"But…my place is by your side, my liege." Lydia objected.
"And it will be. Once you deliver the letters, you are to immediately meet up with General Rilke in Solitude. The final letter in that parcel is her orders. You will join her on her march to Gilane. Meet up with me there."
Lydia looked doubtful.
"Lydia…please…you just told me the skill is knowing when to use the sword and when to use the shield. This could be a big shield for us to use, but only if the stars align just so. Please. I need you…I need you to handle this personally."
Lydia nodded. "I will handle this for you and meet you at Gilane. Don't go getting yourself killed while I am gone."
Martin chuckled at that. "Don't worry…and…thank you."
War Room, Imperial Palace
Later that evening, Martin was meeting with Praetor Jonna and the senior generals of the Imperial Legion. Maps of Valenwood and Hammerfell lined the walls, with smaller maps of each province were on tables located on the edges of the room. The middle of the room had a bigger table which they were all sitting around.
A military liaison from the Hammerfell Ambassador had arrived and was working with the Imperial Legion on a defense strategy for Gilane. They had agreed that the Redguard soldiers would hold back and allow Gilane to be besieged by the Thalmor. The city could hold for a week, but should only need to hold out for a day or two. The main focus of the soliders inside the city would be to keep the Thalmor siege engines at bay, however they could, until the Imperial Legions and Redguard Arifs could move in and break the siege.
"I need to be honest with you all," The liaison said apologetically, "The Amirs are not fond of this plan. They do not trust the empire to help, and they are willing to die to break the siege alone. I pray that will not be the case."
"Do not worry, friend," Jonna reassured him, "We have fully outfit the Third Legion with soldiers and supplies. They will leave tomorrow and will be ready to help defeat the Thalmor. The new sixth legion will be leaving from Skyrim later tomorrow, or early the next morning. You should have one and a half to two full legions to assist your troops."
The Liaison bowed his head slightly. "This will not be forgotten. Thank you. If you all will excuse me, I need to relay this information to the Ambassador."
Once the Liaison left, Martin addressed the group. "I'll be heading out with General Laudis tomorrow. General, please understand this does not mean I lack confidence in your abilities. We need to show solidarity with the Redguards and I think my being there in person to help them defend their land will be a powerful statement."
The generals all nodded in understanding. Martin continued. "Praetor Jonna will manage the defense of Cyrodiil, should the Thalmor try to invade again. I managed to arrange for one division of Redoran Guard to help with defense, but they are not authorized for any offensive operations against the Thalmor. Their liaison will be here tomorrow, the division should be here the next day."
Eyes went up in surprise around the table.
"How did you manage that, my liege?" General Aerin asked.
Before Martin could respond, there was a disheveled soldier who was led into the room by one of the palace guard. "Pardon the interruption gentlemen, but this auxiliary has urgent information from Arenthia."
The Auxiliary was covered in blood, dirt and soot and his armor was damaged and worn. He wasted no time in delivering his news. "Arenthia has fallen."
The table erupted in a cacophony of questions. "What happened? How? Are there any survivors? How did that happen? How did you escape? Are there other survivors?"
Praetor Jonna stood and raised his hands, "Gentlemen, please. Please!"
The table quieted down and Jonna motioned to Martin. "Please," Martin began, "start from the beginning and tell us all the details you know."
The Auxiliary took a breath and nodded. Then he began, "I was on patrol outside the city with my squad. We saw smoke and flames, so we headed back to the city. Three soldiers met us by the Strid River. They told us Thalmor soldiers came rushing out of the place. Nearly an entire division worth. They started killing indiscriminately, soldier and civilian alike. Every man, woman and child was killed. Then the Thalmor set fire to every building in the city. The three soldiers barely escaped."
"How did they get into the palace?" General Tullius asked.
"I'm afraid I don't know, sire. Unfortunately, we were ambushed before the soldiers could give us more information. We were on our way back to Cyrodiil when we were surrounded and attacked. When I saw everyone else was killed, I ran hard and fast back here to deliver the news."
"You did the right thing," Jonna said. "Please go to the barracks, get cleaned up, something to eat and some rest. You earned it. Emperor Septim, with your permission, I would like to send a scouting team to assess the situation in Valenwood."
"By all means."
It was late into the night when the scouting team reported back. The City of Arenthia, former pride of Valenwood, was completely razed to the ground. There were scattered fires throughout, but not a single building stood. Not even the temple. The fires had apparently burned so hot that there were barely even any bones left as evidence of the genocide.
Martin became furious. He pounded the table and stood as if to speak, but no words came out.
"My liege, shall we adjust our plans?" Jonna asked.
"No, the defense of Gilane will go on. And you keep planning the defense of Cyrodiil. I'll handle the Thalmor." Martin fumed. He then left the room.
Rooftop, White-Gold Tower
Martin stood with his face to the north, "Od Ah VIING!"
It took a little while, but soon enough, Martin saw a familiar shape in the distance. The shape grew larger, circled around the tower and landed on the platform that had been constructed just for that purpose.
"Dovahkiin, to what do I owe the honor?"
"Before this war started, I offered you Summerset Isles as a land to call your own. You may have it now."
"And what of the current residents?"
"Kill them, eat them, burn them to ashes, I don't care."
"Dovahkiin, consider carefully what you are doing."
"No!" Martin shouted. "They slaughtered their own kind! MY KIND! Innocent children! Their heinous acts are inexcusable! Every last Altmer needs to die!"
Odahviing seemed nonplussed to the outburst. "I have committed my share of atrocities and yet you ally yourself with me. Paarthrunax committed his share and yet you not only submitted to his teaching, you refused to kill him."
"That's different. The Thalmor will show us no quarter, so we will show them– "
Suddenly, the air shimmered around them and Quaranir appeared in ghostly form.
Odahviing drew his head back at the sudden appearance. "Who are you?" He said.
"I am Quaranir, of the Psijic order. Who are you and how can you see me?"
"Ah. I am Odahviing. The Psijic order is ancient, but so am I."
"Quaranir, what is it? What brings you here and why now?" Martin asked.
"I warned you about the coming destruction, but you paid it no heed. You are at a crossroads, Dragonborn. Proceed on your current path and destruction will ensue. Take the other fork and crisis may be averted."
"Why must you always speak in riddles?" Martin complained. "What is happening?"
Quaranir sighed. "You are angry over the destruction of Arenthia. That is understandable. However, you should not make plans in anger."
"How did you know about Arenthia? And how do you know about this 'destruction'?"
Quaranir smiled, but said nothing. Instead he reached out and touched Martin on the forehead.
The land was in ruins. The disembodied forms flew over the landscape. Dragons were everywhere. Cities, towns and settlements were completely destroyed. Dragons were circling Alinor, the last refuge on the Isle. The city was overflowing with refugees. Fires dotted the charred landscape outside the city. The walls were damaged, almost as if the refugees were causing the city to burst at its seams.
Deep in the heart of the city, was a large open room. Inside the room was a large brass golem. In the golem's chest was an odd looking crystal. Not the mantella of old, nor the heart of Lorkhan. Instead, it was a heart fashioned from the souls of the most powerful Thalmor mages. They called it the Heart of the Altmer. The most powerful of the Altmer, sacrificing their very souls for the good of their people.
Falril stood there with his assistant. It was time. Time destroy the human empire once and for all. Time to wipe out ever last man from the face of Nirn. "Are you ready?" He asked his assistant. The younger altmer nodded. Falril counted, "One, two…THREE!"
Falril swung Sunder while his assistant swing Keening. They struck the Heart of the Altmer, but nothing happened.
"What?" Falril exclaimed. "What did you do?"
"Exactly, what you told me to do."
"Clearly not! You incompetent fool! Give me that!"
Falril ripped Keening out of his assistant's hand, and with an angry yell swung both at the Heart of the Altmer.
Everything went white. The disembodied forms were unable to see anything beyond the whiteness. Then, the whiteness vanished. The golem and the Heart of the Altmer were there, but Falril and his assistant were gone.
Suddenly, the disembodied forms were floating through the streets of Daggerfall, in High Rock. It appeared to be a market, with cooking fires burning for the preparation of midday meals, but the market was empty. Not a soul in sight.
Next they were in Sentinel, and then Markarth, Mournhold, and on through at least one city in every province of Tamriel. Finally, they floated through Imperial City. It was also completely empty. Not just people, but every man, mer and creature was completely gone. All of Tamriel was deserted. Life no longer existed anywhere on the entire continent.
Quaranir removed his fingers from Martin's forehead. "You see what making decisions in anger can lead to?"
"But wait. Keening, it's–"
"It is at The College of Winterhold," Quaranir confirmed. "Make the correct choices and it will remain there. Farewell, Dragonborn." With a nod to Odahviing, Quaranir vanished.
Martin was silent for a long while, as was Odahviing. Finally, Martin spoke. "What did I do? What was I about to do?"
"Dovahkiin, you have the heart and soul of a Dov. You have shown great, skill, valor and cunning on the field of battle. Now you must show that same level of skill, valor and cunning off the field of battle. Though a land to call our own is a treasured prize, that is not why I have chosen to aid you. Nor is that why I will continue to aid you. You have difficult choices to make, but you possess the wisdom to make them correctly."
"I will make good on my promise, Odahviing. I think I just need to determine a different location."
With a nod, Odahviing leapt into the air and flapped his wings, heading off to the north, leaving Martin alone with his thoughts.
Author's Note: When I had asked, most of you had wanted Delphine to rot in prison. I admit, I felt the same way, but after such a long hiatus on the story, I think she can be redeemed. Martin is about to learn about redemption as well. A couple of different individuals are giving him the same advice. Will he listen? - I really appreciate everyone's patience through the hiatus. I'm working on the story again, and I hope that you all continue to enjoy it. As always, I am open to comments and constructive criticism. Feel free to message me any time.