A Tough Choice
The Minotaur's Might, Southpoint, Valenwood

Silgorn was leaning forward. His elbows resting on the counter and his chin resting in his palms. His fingers were tapping the side of his face in boredom. The docks were mostly empty of ships, which meant business was slow. The tavern was roughly middle class. It was not as seedy as the establishments right on the docks, but not so high class as the ones near the palace either. In fact, most Altmer wouldn't be caught dead in the place and that suited him just fine.

Most of his clientele preferred it that way as well. Of course, he was sure that some of them were Thalmor spies. He had an intense loathing of the Thalmor, and for good reason. However, he was able to fake it enough to maintain his business and avoid unwanted attention.

He was lost in his thoughts when his barmaid came bursting into the tavern. "Silgorn! You wouldn't believe what those bastards did! They burned it down…burned everything down! They killed EVERYONE!"

Silgorn started at the outburst. "Calm down, Ufina. Take a breath. What in oblivion are you talking about?"

"Arenthia. The Imperials captured it a few days ago. The Thalmor didn't just recapture it. The killed everyone in the city and burnt the whole thing to the ground. The walls, the palace, every building. Everything…and everyone…it's all…it's all gone!"

There was a brief flash in Silgorn's eyes and then he left the counter without saying a word. Ufina was right behind him. Silgorn went down to the basement and sat on a barrel.

"You need to do something," Ufina insisted.

"No. There is nothing for me to do," Silgorn lamented.

"How many of our kind must be slaughtered? How may bosmer are going to die? You have the means! The Imperials new emperor is a Bosmer! You MUST do…something!"

"Those days are long behind me. Besides, Thalmor are everywhere. How would I even…" Silgorn left the though unfinished.

"Silgorn…please…you've heard the rumors. The Empire is changing. And the new emperor's guard. Their armor…"

"Enough!" Silgorn interrupted. "Be very careful of what you speak."

"I speak of hope, Silgorn. Something that has been lacking around here for some time. I speak of life. Something the Altmer have been taking away from us. You saved my life. You took me in and gave me food, housing, a job. You trusted me with your life. Now, let me repay you. Let me repay your kindness. Let me help you help our people."

Silgorn didn't answer. He sat on that barrel, thinking. Thinking long and hard, he finally came to a decision. He got up, grabbed a lantern and walked over to a set of shelving that had various foods and meats on it. Next to the shelf was a torch sconce. He grabbed the sconce and pulled it toward him. When he heard a "click" he move the shelving aside and pushed on one of the stones. A stone doorway opened inward.

He motioned for Ufina to enter and then pulled the shelving back to the wall and closed the door. The room was small with a few chairs, a desk and a rusty old chest that had a thick layer of dust on the top. Cobwebs were in the corners and the room smelled musty and old.

Silgorn lit a candle, placed lantern on the desk and sat down. He looked at the chest, a mix of emotions flowing through him, and then at Ufina. "You realize what it is you are asking…and offering?"

"I do. I'll be careful. I'll move from city to city, under the guise of buying wares and supplies for the inn. I'll take a confusing route and take my time."

Silgorn let out a deep, heavy sigh. "Damn you," he muttered. Then he opened up a drawer, pulling out a quill, some ink and a roll of paper. Then he reached to the back and felt for a button. He found it and pressed it. The false backing of the drawer was a little stuck from not being used in so long, but it came loose and Silgorn pulled out a seal.

He unrolled the paper and wrote a brief missive. He blew the ink gently to make sure it was dry and then rolled up the paper. Silgorn poured some wax on the edge and pressed it with the seal. He smoothed it out, blew the wax to cool it and then wrapped the entire thing in a piece of leather. He handed the leather bundle to Ufina. "If you get caught with this, your life is forfeit. You realize that, right?"

"I do, and I will be very careful, I swear."

Silgorn sighed. "You better be."

Battle for Elsweyr
Fort Black Boot, Cyrodiil
Second Seed 19th

Fort Black Boot had a long and storied history. It started as an Aldmeri Dominion stronghold in the first era. It was captured by Reman during his ascension to throne and considered a fort of the Cyroliic Empire. During the Interregnum, it fell into disrepair. It was rebuilt by Tiber Septim and used during the Tiber wars. It once again fell into disrepair in the middle of the Third Era, often occupied by various adventures, bandit and covens.

During the Great war, it was captured and rebuilt by the Third Aldmeri Dominion. The Imperial Legion recaptured it during the Battle of the Red Ring and have maintained a presence there ever since. The Fort was currently serving as the headquarters for the First Imperial Legion.

Emperor Martin Septim II arrived with a patrol sized contingent. These soldiers were outfitted with Blades armor and Katanas. Lydia had proven extremely effective at discovering, interviewing and selecting soldiers for the Emperor's personal guard. Many were from the original company recruited by Martin, some were from the detachment that saved Martin at the Battle of Gilane, but most were from the legions, observed in action by Lydia.

There were still many that Lydia had left to interview, and few who asked for time to decide. It was telling that some were hesitant to leave their brothers and sisters in arms, and that is the kind of loyalty that Lydia was looking for. Still, there were enough who agreed that she stood up the Emperor's Guard. All were outfitted in the appropriate armor, although Lydia still hoped to have an undercover detachment as well.

The ink wasn't even dry on Hadvar's promotion paperwork when he had a battle to plan. He was leaning over a table, with a map of Elsweyr when Martin walked in.

"General Hadvar! Off with his head!" Martin boomed.

Hadvar smiled and looked up. "Your majesty. And to think, I almost executed you. I bet the Thalmor wish Alduin had waited just a moment longer."

General Razelan looked confused by the exchange, but Martin let out a hearty laugh. The two of them grabbed each other's forearms. "It is good to see you, my friend. Razelan, it is good to see you as well. What have our scouts reported?" Martin asked.

"It looks like there are two divisions of Khajiit warriors east of Riverhold, Northwest of Rimmen." Hadvar pointed to a spot on the map, then to another. There are two divisions of Thalmor here, between Orcrest and Rimmen." Hadvar reported.

"I don't suppose your, um, special ally will be helping us?" Razelan asked.

"If necessary, but I have learned from my mistakes. Trust me when I tell you the Thalmor will be greatly outnumbered." Martin replied.

Razelan looked confused, but did not press the issue.

"What's the plan of attack?" Martin asked.

"Infantry from the first and second legions rush in from the front. After engagement, the sword-singers will flank them to the left and come from behind, the first legion calvary will flank them from the right, in and effort to completely surround them. Second legion calvary will remain in reserve in case the Thalmor choose to join in." Hadvar explained.

"That's a good plan," Martin observed.

"Well, it was mostly Razelan's plan," Hadvar replied.

"Thank you, Razelan. You are already increasing our Legion's strength and skill."

Razelan smiled, but before he could respond, there was a knock on the door. It was a legionnaire, with a small leather bundle in his hands. "Sire, pardon the interruption, but a small wood elf came into the fort and insisted on talking to who was in charge. Since you are here, I thought that would be you."

Martin nodded. "Did she say what she wanted?"

"No, your majesty. She would not say a word. She insisted that she had to talk to whoever was in charge. She was carrying this," the soldier handed the bundle over.

Martin took the bundle, and opened up the leather wrappings. He recognized the seal immediately and turned towards Hadvar, "Is he one of yours?"

Hadvar was confused for a moment, but then he realized what Martin was asking. "No, you'll want Tribune Calius."

Martin nodded and turned towards the soldier, "Thank you, Quaestor. Please go find Tribune Calius and ask him to fetch the bosmer and report to me." Martin then turned to Razelan. "Would you please excuse us for a little while?"

Razelan nodded and left.

When both the soldier and Razelan left, Martin very carfully peeled the wax off the parchment (he wanted the seal intact for Esbern), and read the missive. He did not quite understand the coded message, but he was fairly certain it was from another blade.

Tribune Calius arrived with the bosmeri female a few minutes later.

"Please close the door, Calius," Hadvar asked.

"Thank you, please sit, each of you," Martin said.

"I must only talk to you," the woman insisted.

"What is your name?" Martin asked.

The woman said nothing.

"Please," Martin said, "I am Emperor Martin Septim II, and if this is what I think it is, you are among friends. All of us."

The woman looked around, took a deep breath and nodded. "Ok, I am simply a barmaid from Southpoint. The owner of the Tavern, he has a special past." She swallowed hard and continued. "He is a former blade."

That simple statement sent a shockwave through Martin. If there was one more, then there might be others. "How did you come to this?" he asked.

"He saved me. I was an orphan on the streets and he caught me pickpocketing him. Instead of turning me over to the guard, the brought me to his tavern and fed me. He offered me a job, a room and food. I had nothing and no one, so there was little choice to accept. He was always kind to me and one day, I was searching for something in the basement when I stumbled upon his secret. I thought he would kill me, but he sat me down and explained everything. I owed him for what he did for me, so I kept his secret…until Arenthia. When word reached us about what happened, I begged him to come forward. He wrote that and sent me off. That was about a week and a half ago."

Martin and Hadvar absorbed what she said. Martin was wary about it being a trap, but decided Esbern would be able to flesh it out. "Calius," he said when he finally spoke, "Please escort Ms….?

"Ufina. I am Ufina," the bosmeri female said.

"Please escort Ufina to Esbern. Directly and without delay. She will be your charge until Esbern relieves you. This is probably the most important task at hand right now. You are doing a tremendous service to me and to the empire. Do you understand?"

"I do, your majesty and I will carry out my duties faithfully."

"Thank you, Calius," Martine replied. "Ufina, this man is a Blade. So is the general behind me. This man, Calius, will take care of all your needs. You will be our most welcome guest until Esbern is able to craft a response, then you will be entrusted with delivering it."

Ufina nodded and attempted a curtsy, "Thank you, your majesty."

Cyrodiil/Elsweyr Border, East of Riverhold
Second Seed 20th

The two armies were lined up across from each other. The Imperial Legion cohorts were arranged in a wedge. The light infantry of the second legion formed the point. Behind them were the heavy infantry. To the left were the cavalry of the first legion. To the right, the first cohort of the first legion, the sword singers, and the heavy infantry of the first legion. The archers and mages were stationed well behind the infantry. General Hadvar was on his horse, leading the calvary. General Razelan was on foot, leading the sword singers and Martin was on foot, front and center, leading the initial charge.

The Khajiit warriors facing them were aligned in box formation, two divisions, side by side. In front of the formation were a trio of Khajiit warriors. The commander of each division, plus a former caravan guard who was in command of the overall Khajiit troops. Behind the Khajiit troops were two divisions of Thalmor, ready to assist if needed. The Thalmor commander was perfectly content to let the Khajiit warriors take the brunt of the attack, expecting to mop up the imperials after the first phase of the battle.

There was no parlay. With the sun barely over the horizon, Martin walked out in front of the legionnaires, drew his sword, pointing it high up in the air. Then he drew it downward in a sharp motion. With a shout, the imperial legion infantry ran forward toward the Khajiit troops. The Khajiit commander mirrored Martin's movements and the Khajiit soldiers ran forward.

The two armies ran towards each other at full speed. At about 60 paces apart, the two armies slowed their run. At about 40 paces apart, the two armies slowed to a walk. At about 20 paces out, the two armies stopped completely. Martin walked forward from his Army and Kharjo walked forward from the Khajiit army.

Kharjo and Martin both reached out and grabbed each other's forearms. "Kharjo is pleased to see you well, Dragonborn, or should I say Emperor now."

Martin smiled. "Just Martin is fine. It is good to see you too, Kharjo." Then Martin was all business. "Our scouts report two divisions of Thalmor. Is that right?"

"Yes. There is one here to support us." Kharjo said in disgust. "What they mean is they use us as fodder and then mop up over our bodies. The Khajiit will not be used as pawns and fodder any longer. Khajiit are eager to tear off the yoke of the Thalmor."

"Well, we are here to fight with you. I will be out front with you. The rest of my troops will flank the Thalmor in an attempt to surround them."

"There will be a second division coming," Kharjo warned, "still, Kharjo and his troops will do their best to leave some Thalmor for the imperials." Kharjo was grinning, but his ears were flat and back, indicating he was ready to fight.

"Is the Empire ready?" Kharjo asked.

"Almost," Martin said. Then he had a big grin. "Mul...Qah…DIIV!"

The Khajiit warriors were astonished at the sight they beheld. A ghostly warrior outline shimmered around Martin. The ranks of soldiers opened as Martin and Kharjo walked to the other side of the formation. A mixture of amazement and even some fear on the face of the Khajiit warriors. Not fear of battle or of their enemy, but superstition of the power Martin displayed. He was about to display some more.

The ranks closed behind them as Martin and Kharjo were now behind the formation of Khajiit warriors. Kharjo turned and with a booming voice, commanded, "Khajiiti Rakiit! Ifo Ba'zrasha!" [Warriors, About Face]. As one, the Khajiit army turned to face the Thalmor.

Thalmor Lines, Elsweyr

Commander Estormo sat on his horse, surveying the field. He saw the two armies lined up across from each other. Part of him was eager to be up front, fighting the Empire and settling an old score. However, part of him understood the need to let the lesser beings take the brunt of the attack. He had no doubt the Empire would defeat the Khajiit, but then he and his troops would handily defeat the Empire and he would regain his honor.

As he surveyed the field of battle, he watched as the two armies ran towards each other. His smugness turned towards confusion when he saw both armies slow and then stop, without engaging in battle. He turned to his aide. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure, my lord. It appears the leader of the Khajiiti troops is talking to the Emperor."

They both watched in amazement as the Emperor was suddenly shrouded in a ghostly form. Then the watched in trepidation as the Khajiit troops turned around to fact the Thalmor.

"Quick, ride south and inform Commander Rimintil that his presence is required."

Khajiit/Imperial Lines, Elsweyr

Khajro turned towards Martin. "The Khajiit are ready, Martin. Shall we?"

"Not yet," Martin said. "Wait for it…"

Kharjo looked a little confused, but said nothing.

Martin drew a breath and shouted, "STRUN…BAH…QO!"

Dark clouds immediately gathered overhead. Bolts of lighting struck from the sky, massive bolts striking the Thalmor soldiers. The Thalmor were expecting it, but it still caused some disruption in their ranks.

The Khajiit were actually more affected than then the Thalmor. The astonishment and amazement was almost a distraction. Kharjo got their attention. "Khajiiti Rakiit!" He shouted as he raised his sword, "TAKARR!"

Martin and Kharjo took off running. They were followed very close behind by the first few ranks of the Khajiit soldiers. These soldiers were lightly armored and weapon-less. They ran on all fours toward the Thalmor. When they were a few paces out, almost as one, they leapt into the ranks of the Thalmor soldiers, fighting with their claws and making quick work in creating an opening.

Behind them were heavily armored Khajiit warriors, who were armed and ran on two legs. The armored, and armed, warriors smashed into the Thalmor lines, already broken by the wave of lightly armored Khajiit.

The Khajiit fought with a ferocity and force of will that greatly impressed Martin. Upon later reflection, Martin would understand that the Khajiit warriors were one of the reasons the Imperial Legion was beaten by the Aldmeri Dominion. At present, he was very glad to be fighting with them instead of against them.

The Khajiit greatly outnumbered the Thalmor, but the Thalmor were able to regroup after the initial onslaught and were very nearly holding their own. Being outnumbered two to one, the tide was about to turn against the Thalmor troops, but as predicted, the second Thalmor Division came to reinforce the first.

Reinforced by another, fresh division, the Thalmor regrouped and started to push back against the Khajiit. However, by fully engaging the Khajiit, the Thalmor were easily flanked by the Imperial Legions. The Sword-Singers and calvary quickly made openings in the rear of the Thalmor formations, allowing the Imperial Infantry to push in from behind.

The Khajiit and Imperial troops closed the circle around the Thalmor, now outnumbered three, almost four to one with the heavy Thalmor losses. The circle quickly began to tighten around the Thalmor.

Inside the ever tightening circle, Martin, Kharjo, and Hadvar were fighting the Thalmor, along with a few Khajiit and Imperial soldiers who managed to push deep into the enemy formation. In the middle of a melee, Martin heard "Dragonborn!" and turned to look. Estormo was facing him with an expression of pure hatred.

Martin was shocked at his presence. "Estormo? But…you're…you're…"

"Dead? No, only left for dead, by you, in that divine forsaken crypt." Estormo spat. "I managed to survive in spite of your best efforts. Now I will cut you down where you stand!"

Estormo charged at Martin.
Martin drew a breath and shouted, "Fus…roh…DAH!"

Estormo flew backwards, head over heels, like a ragdoll. Landing hard, he stood, shook himself off and glared at Martin. Then, without warning, lighting shot out of his hands and enveloped Martin, which caused Martin to fall to his knees.

By this point a rough circle had formed around the two combatants, composed of Thalmor, Imperial and Khajiit troops. One of the Imperial soldiers was about to rush forward, but Hadvar stopped her. "Just watch," he said. Lydia, too, tried rushing forward, but Hadvar stopped her as well.

Sure enough, a moment later, the ghostly form shimmering around Martin seemed to take on a life of its own as it charged Estormo and attacked. The distraction was just enough to stop the lightening and allow Martin to rise to his feet. Martin took a few deep breaths, smiled and shouted, "Yol…toor…SHUL!" Martin literally breathed fire and the flames shot out towards and covered over Estormo.

Both the Thalmor and the Khajiit were stunned and a little fearful at the display. That was just the distraction Martin needed. As Estormo staggered backwards, Martin charged. Martin raised his sword high over his head and let out a battle cry as he ran towards Estormo. There was little practical value in what Martin did, but the display proved to further unsettle the Thalmor soldiers.

Estormo summoned a flame atronach, and that construct kept the ancient dragonborn aspect busy. As soon as he was in melee range, Martin brought his sword down in a fierce motion that sliced through Estormo's robes, diagonally down from his shoulder to his waist. The robes were slice clear through, exposing and damaging the elven armor beneath.

However, on the upswing, Martin caught him under his arm. The special dragonbone sword that Martin had fashioned in Riverwood found the weak spot between plates of elven metal, sliced right through the armor, skin, muscle and tendons. The blow separated Estormo's arm from his shoulder.

Estormo cried out in pain. As skilled as he was in the restoration arts, he could not reattach his arm in the middle of a battle. He reached over with his good hand and used some restoration magic to bind the wound temporarily. Then he drew an ebony dagger and stabbed at Martin, who easily deflected the blow.

Martin parried a few attempts by Estormo to slice and stab at him before bringing the flat of his sword down hard on Estormo's hand. Estormo dropped the dagger and looked at Martin with a glare that was so filled with hatred, you would think it came from Mehrunes Dagon himself in the depths of Oblivion.

Martin slashed Estormo's chest again and put the tip of his sword under Estormo's chin. "Surrender now, and you and your troops will live."

Estormo looked down at Martin and sneered, the look of hatred getting even more intense. "Never."

Martin met his gaze. Without flinching, he said, "Mid, Vur Shaan." Then Martin moved without hesitation. Quicker than anyone thought possible, he stepped back, and with his sworn extended outward, whirled around with a flourish. His sword cut cleanly through attire and neck, separating his head from his body.

Estormo's head went flying, and the body crumpled to the ground.

The circle of soldiers was silent for a moment. Martin, too, was still. He stood there, trying to catch his breath.

A lone Altmer walked towards Martin. The Altmer drew his sword, extended it outward, then positioned it parallel to the ground. He cupped the tip with one hand and he moved his other hand around so that it cupped the hilt. He then presented it to Martin. "On behalf of the Thalmor troops, I surrender."

Martin nodded. "Have your men stand down. I will do the same."

The Altmer nodded and issued commands to his subordinates. Martin turned towards Hadvar and Kharjo who both nodded in return.

The sound of metal clashing died down slowly and then stopped all together as orders travelled throughout the field of battle. The Thalmor troops were still surrounded, but they made no effort to break through or break out.

Martin turned back towards the Altmer, who was still holding the sword out. "I accept your surrender. You may keep your sword."

The Altmer was very confused by Martin's apparent faux pa. "But, my sword…"

"It's a time honored and symbolic gesture," Martin explained, "but what counts is your men dropping their own weapons and remaining where they are while we discuss terms."

The Altmer nodded and sheathed his sword. "Thank you for allowing me to retain at least some honor. I am Commander Rimintil."

Martin nodded. "Walk with me Commander Rimintil." The circle parted to allow both of them through, and Martin led the commander off the field of battle.

Imperial Legion Camp, Northern Elsweyr

The Imperial camp was operating on a minimal staff. They were acting as a rear detachment, ready to provide support to the front or sent messages back to higher command. This camp was hastily erected, but it had all the basics, including a command tent.

Martin and Kharjo were leading Commander Rimintil through the camp. He was not bound or coerced in anyway, which he found a little unusual. When they reached the command tent, Martin pulled back the flap and motioned for him to enter. Rimintil paused for a moment. Martin was not the enemy commander, he was the leader of the entire empire and he was holding open the tent flap…for him.

Rimintil entered, then Martin and Kharjo followed. The tent was about what you would expect for a command tent in the field. Martin motioned to a seat and then he and Kharjo sat themselves.

"Surilie Brothers wine?" Martin offered.

Commander Rimintil took the goblet and drank. His eyes lit up briefly. "This is a really good vintage."

Martin smiled, but said nothing in response. He had his own goblet of wine which he drank from. The small group sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their wine.

Finally, Martin spoke, "Commander Rimintil, thank you for trusting me and coming to our encampment. I'll outline current conditions and then share our terms. Feel free to disagree along the way."

Rimintil nodded.

"First, our armies completely surround yours. Your troops are outnumbered…five to one?" He paused and looked towards Kharjo, who nodded. "You've seen my power. You know how fierce the Khajiit are. Finally, you have offered your surrender. Our terms are to accept your unconditional surrender. All Thalmor troops will be permitted safe passage to Valenwood, you may bring your weapons, armor and other supplies, but you have 48 hours to be completely out of Elsweyr."

"Wait, you are kicking the Thalmor out of Elsweyr completely?" Rimintil was shocked.

"You did say that you surrendered on behalf of the Thalmor, did you not?" Martin asked.

"Yes, but–"

"Were you not sincere in your surrender?"

"Of course I was, but I meant for the troops in battle."

"When I accepted your surrender, it was for all the Thalmor troops in Elsweyr." Martin said.

Kharjo agreed, "The Khajiit know what the Thalmor did to us. The Thalmor are no longer welcome in Elsweyr."

"Surely you do not speak for all the Khajit," Rimintil protested.

Kharjo's ears went flat and he bared his teeth. "Kharjo speaks for enough Khajiit. The Khajiit know what the Thalmor did to Elsweyr, what they tried to do to the Khajiit. The Thalmor will leave willingly, or the Khajiit will force them out. All of them."

Commander Rimintil was unsure how to respond. "I-I honestly don't know what you are talking about." He sighed, resignedly, "but…you let me keep my sword, so I believe you when you say we can keep our weapons, armor and supplies. I will oversee a complete withdrawal of Thalmor troops from Elsweyr. However, I cannot make any future guarantees."

Martin smiled. "Leave the 'future guarantees' up to Kharjo and myself. How many other divisions are in Elsweyr?"

Rimintil was reticent at first but finally decided he had no choice. "Just one."

"Does that include the division besieging Leyawiin?" Martin asked.

Rimintil was genuinely surprised by the question. He wasn't sure Martin knew about that division. He was silent for a moment, and then he sighed. "No, that does not include the division that is…camped…near Leyawiin."

"Thank you for your frankness and your honesty." Martin replied. "This is not a condition of your surrender, but may I ask a favor?"

Once again, Rimintil was surprised. "Ok…"

"Please send a messenger to the division that is 'camped' near Leyawiin. Please inform them that they have 24 hours to break their…'camp'… and return to Valenwood. Reassure them that they will be granted safe passage. However, if they refuse, then we will bring the equivalent of five–"

"Six," Kharjo interrupted.

Now it was Martin's turn to be surprised, but he continued on, "The equivalent of six divisions to bear and we will not accept any surrender."

Commander Rimintil considered the words for a moment before responding. "If your majesty will permit it, I will deliver the news personally. I have a…rapport…with the commander. I will ensure they leave peacefully. You will guarantee safe passage?"

"Of course. Follow the green road up to Bravil, then traverse the West Weald back to Valenwood. Coordinate with General Rikke of the Sixth Legion. She will provide an escort to guarantee safe passage. Who will oversee the withdrawal of Thalmor from Elsweyr?"

"The commander of the ninth—uh, of the remaining division here in Elsweyr will oversee the withdrawal." Commander Rimintil slipped up briefly, but Martin said nothing.

"Very well, commander. Those are our terms. You accept?"

"Yes, on behalf of the Thalmor in Elsweyr, I accept your terms and will grant the favor you have requested."

With that, Martin stood. "Tribune Calodius will escort you back to your troops. Remember, commander, 48 hours. Thank you for being so agreeable in our discussion."

"Thank you for the honor and the hospitality you have shown your defeated enemy."

With that, the Tribune entered and escorted Commander Rimintil out of the camp. Lydia, to her credit, did not relax until she saw the Commander leave. She closed the tent flap and turned towards Martin. "He's gone, my liege."

Martin let out a sigh of relief, "I did not expect that to go so…smooth."

"Kharjo believes the Aldmeri Dominion will not let Elsweyr go so easily."

"I am inclined to agree, Kharjo. Rimintil had to accept the terms because we essentially held a knife to the throat of every one of his troops. I do think they will try to invade Elsweyr or Cyrodiil or Hammerfell or all of them at once. I would be happy to garrison troops in Elsweyr."

"But you think there is a better way," Kharjo observed.

"There's no question, Kharjo," Martin repled. "You and I work well together. Our troops fought well together."

"Kharjo agrees, but sadly, what happens next is not up to Kharjo. The Mane would have to decide and the Mane does not speak for Pellitine. Still, Kharjo would be honored to talk to the Mane on behalf of the Emperor."

"It is I who would be honored to have you talk on my behalf. I will send you one of my top people to assist you. Do you know Mjoll?"

"The lioness. Yes Kharjo knows her. Mjoll treated Kharjo's caravan well. She has honor and courage. Kharjo would be pleased to see her again."

"Very well, it's settled then. I have this gift to present to The Mane." Martin then motioned to Lydia.

Lydia brought out a chest and opened it. Kharjo's eyes lit up. "Kharjo smelled it when he entered the tent, but…" Kharjo sniffed the air, "But Kharjo did not realize it was the finest moon sugar Kharjo has ever seen or smelled. The Mane will be most happy to receive such a gift. The Mane is aware that Martin was key in unraveling the Thalmor conspiracy against the Khajiit. That fact, coupled with this gift, the Mane should be most agreeable to rejoining the empire."

Fort Black Boot, Cyrodiil
Second Seed 20th

It was very late by the time Martin had returned to Fort Black Boot with the First Legion, which was now being colloquially called "The Emperor's Legion." The Second Legion had remained in Elseweyr to assist the Khajiit in overseeing the return of the Thalmor to Valenwood. Martin was completely exhausted, but he had one more piece of business before he could crash for the night. Fortunately, Mjoll was waiting for him when he arrived.

"You don't look so good," Mjoll observed with a smile.

"It's been a day," Martin replied, with a smile of his own. "I'm glad I caught you before you returned to Skyrim. I have a special assignment for you. First, would you help me?"

Martin motioned to some of the straps for his armor and Mjoll helped him out of the Dragonbone breastplate. The armor was scuffed and dirty, but it had done its job. Martin laid it on the floor and stretched. "Ahh, that feels much better."

Martin sat there in loose tunic and looked at Mjoll. "I know it's not ideal for you, but I need someone that I can trust for a very important job."

"What is it?"

"Assist in negotiating with the Mane to have Elsweyr rejoin the empire."

"But, I'm no diplomat," Mjoll protested.

"I know, and I know Elsweyr is very hot for a Nord. However, you have travelled all over Tamriel and you have a rapport with Kharjo. That will come in very handy."

"Ahh. Kharjo." Mjoll nodded. "He and I do share the warrior spirit. He was the one I talked to the most when his caravan was outside of Riften. He is negotiating for you?"

"Well, he is negotiating for his people. That is where you come in. Talk with him and the Mane and then report back to me on what they are asking as part of their reunification."

Mjoll was silent for a moment, pondering what Martin had told her. Finally, she looked at him and spoke, "This really isn't my strong area, but I do know Kharjo and it's not my first time in Elsweyr. I will do my best for the empire, and for you."

"That all I ask, Mjoll. Thank you. I really need someone I trust to handle this for me. Now, if you would not mind, I need to get cleaned up and get some rest."

Imperial Palace, Dance Hall
Second Seed, 22nd

The hall was magnificent. The most ornate lamps, sconces, furniture, tapestries, carpets that Martin had ever seen. The palace staff, the overworked, underappreciated laborers that kept things running behind the scenes had done a phenomenal job in preparing the hall for the evening reception. Martin made a mental note to go and thank them later.

Along the each side of the hall, between each column stood a member of the Blades, in polished Blades Armor. There were plenty of whispers, murmurs and gossip about them, but nobody came out and asked about them directly. They were there mostly for show, but each one of them had been hand picked by Lydia for their skill and loyalty.

There were a few other Blades, wearing clothing that was equally ornate, floating around the hall, mingling with guests. There was always at least one within arm's reach of the Emperor. Lydia was seated on a balcony, overlooking the hall. She became briefly alarmed when she recognized a member of the Dark Brotherhood in the Redguard party.

On the main floor, Martin was also briefly startled when he saw Nazir walking up with Elnath and the rest of the Redguard party.

"Your majesty," Elnath began, "May I introduce a noble from one of our oldest families. This is Nazir. He has spent a lot of time in Skyrim as well. He has been eager to meet you."

Martin wore his best diplomatic mask to cover his surprise, and his face gave nothing away. He extended a hand. "Nazir, it is a pleasure to meet you. Would you walk with me?"

Nazir went through the motions of the introduction with the skill of an actor. Elnath nodded to him and he and Martin walked away from the group.

"Where in Skyrim have you been staying?" Martin asked. Then under his breath "What brings you here? If everything ok?"

"I stayed in Falkreath for a long time. However, I have recently moved to Dawnstar," Nazir replied loudly. Then, under his breath, "There have been some developments. Nothing alarming, but we should talk. After the party."

"Ah yes, I know both of those places well. Tell me, is the Mythic Dawn museum still operating?" Martin asked.

"Alas, I'm afraid not. Silus disappeared and the Jarl boarded up the home."

Martin and Nazir made diplomatic small talk as they headed back to the Redguard group.

"So, Nazir, you did not swoon, I see," Elnath jibed.

Nazir for his part, put on a smile. "Thank you for introducing me." He turned toward Martin, "Your Majesty it was truly a pleasure."

Martin nodded and then turned to Elnath. "So, the signing ceremony…"

"Yes, it was a little mundane, I may have had a hand in that. You owe me." Elnath joked.

"Believe me, I appreciate it." Martin replied.

The signing ceremony earlier in the day had been a relatively simple affair. Most of the pomp and circumstance had been done previously, so the actually signing seemed almost anti-climactic. The top nobles of Hammerfell were announced, they walked with great fanfare up to the table, signed their name, made a small speech and then took a seat. It ended with Martin signing the document, thanking each of the Hammerfell nobles, diplomats, warriors, etc, and then it was over. Some of the nobles had wanted more pomp, but Elnath explained that is what the ball would be for.

So far, none of the Redgaurds were disappointed. The ball boasted music from Hammerfell, the most delightful dishes, with favorites from each of the nobles. There had been more speeches in the beginning, but even the Redguard nobles had starting to get hungry, so the music was started, followed by dancing, eating and drinking. Overall, it was a very successful affair, but more importantly, Hammerfell was officially and once again part of the Empire.

Author's Note

Author's Note: I have taken a pretty big creative liberty and will be using a ***SPOILER*** to explain. I alluded to it in this chapter, and will go into more detail in the next chapter, but there is a theory, coming from a former Bethesda programmer, that the Thalmor actually created the Void Nights. Since the race of each Khajiit is determined by the phase of Mundus and Secunda, the Thalmor essentially performed a eugenics experiment. They wanted to see if if the Khajiit would be born to look more like elves if there were no moons. I'll go into more details in the next chapter, but this explains why the Khajiit were so willing to turn on the Thalmor and hopefully (I won't spoil everything...lol) be willing to rejoin the empire.

Finally, I have a request. So far, there have been no complaints with the creative liberties I have taken, but I would still like to keep them to a minimum. Does anybody know the state of the Fighter's Guild in Cyrodiil and the Empire circa 4E 200? They will feature in the next chapter, and I would like to try to keep things as close to lore as possible. TYIA!