Battle of the Ages

Imperial City, Arena
Midyear, 13th

The Arena was filled to capacity. Word spread quickly about the challenge to the emperor. Tales of the emperor's accomplishments were sung about in the local taverns, but people were eager to see him fight for themselves. The Ebony Warrior, true to his word, maintained vigil outside the Arena, right up until the challenge fight. He did not talk to anyone, and some thought him to be a statue. At long last the day had arrived. Everyone who was anyone packed the Arena's stands. The excitement in the air was tangible.

"Good people of Cyrodiil, welcome to the Imperial City Arena! Believe it or not, somebody has actually challenged Emperor Martin Septim II to a dual! You've heard his exploits! You've seen his power! Who, you might ask, would be crazy enough to challenge the emperor himself to a dual? The enigmatic Ebony Warrior! Lords and Ladies, I give you the BATTLE OF THE AGES! Combatants, steel yourselves! Loweerrr the GATES!"

On the one side of the Arena, Emperor Martin Septim II stepped out. He was wearing his dragon bone armor, the edges lined with gold, and polished to so fine a shine, that the reflected sunlight made the armor seem to glow in the Arena. On the other side, quite the contrast to the Emperor, was a warrior clad in ebony armor, from head to toe. His actual identity a mystery, the people named him the Ebony Warrior.

The two walked to the center of the Arena, saluted each other with their swords, Martin's being the Dragonbone sword he crafted himself in Riverwood and the Ebony Warrior's being an Ebony sword. The Ebony Warrior also sported an Ebony Shield. Martin chose to go without a shield for this fight.

The two assumed fighting stances and circled around each other. Martin launched the first blow which the Ebony Warrior easily deflected with his shield. The Ebony Warrior returned the blow, which Martin parried. Then, the Ebony warrior let loose a surprise: Fus…roh…DAH!

Martin went flying backwards, feet flipping over his head. He managed to land on his feet, one hand on the ground, palm down, the other hand holding his sword high. After a collective gasp, the crowd let out a cheer. Martin stood, smiled and said, "Mul...Qah…DIIV!"

The ghostly form surrounding him, the cheers got even louder. The Ebony Warrior saluted again and charged. Martin charged, the two swords, white dragon bone on black ebony clashed with a sound that resonated through the arena. The two warriors moved furiously, striking, parrying, counter parrying. The crowd could hardly follow. Finally, Martin broke through his defenses and struck, landing a hard blow on the Ebony chestplate.

The dent was but a scratch, but it showed the warrior was not invincible. "That's the spirit!" The Ebony warriors shouted. Then both the warrior and Martin shouted at the same exact time… Fus…roh…DAH! The combined force of the shouts shook the columns and the very foundations of the arena, sending both warriors flying straight backwards all the way to opposite walls of the Arena. Both warriors smacked back-first into their respective walls.

Both warriors recovered about the same time, each making a more cautious approach to his opponent. About a dozen paces out, Martin stopped. "Yol…Toor…SHUL!"

A stream of fire shot straight toward the Ebony warrior, causing him to fall back slightly, but otherwise uninjured. Martin charged and swung his sword. The Ebony warrior parried his blow and the two engaged in another round of fierce swordplay. Each trying to gain the advantage over the other. The Ebony warrior let loose with a shout that surprised Martin yet again. "Zun…Haal…VIIK!"

Martin's sword went flying from his hand. The Ebony Warrior reared back as if to strike the now unarmed emperor when Martin let loose a shout of his own, "Dur…Neh…VIIR!"

Durnehviir appeared to crawl out of the ground, and with a roar, leapt into the sky. He circled twice and landed next to Martin. The Ebony Warrior was momentarily distracted, giving Martin a chance to grab his sword.

"How may I assist, Qahnaarin?"

"You already have, Grah-Zeymahzin, and I thank you. Please enjoy the skies of Tamriel."

Durnehviir leapt to the sky with a roar and Martin readied himself for an attack. The Ebony Warrior, obliged, launching a flurry of attacks on Martin. Martin parried each one.

The Ebony Warrior stepped back briefly, "You ally yourself with Dragons, you have mastery over the Thu'um, and yet when the dragon arrives to aid you, you send it off."

"But he did aid me, while you were distracted I grabbed my sword," Martin replied, slightly winded from the fighting. "You didn't come here to fight a dragon, you came to fight me and I'd like to think I'm a challenge all on my own."

The Ebony Warrior let out a laugh. "That you are. Now let's see if you truly are Qahnaarin," he said, launching another attack.

Martin was glad for brief reprieve and he suspected the mysterious warrior was as well, but he met the attack head on. The two fought for hours, using their swords, magic and Thu'um. Neither was able to gain the upper hand. The crowd never got bored. Each shout, each spell, each swing of the sword brought its own level of excitement. Then, when the sun was getting low in the sky, Martin used some swordplay to disarm the Ebony Warrior.

The ebony sword went flying and the crowd let out a cheer. Martin held his sword at the Ebony Warrior's neck.

"Yes! Send me to Sovengarde!" The Ebony Warrior exclaimed.

"Do me the honor or removing your helm," Martin requested.

There was a pause, the crowd went silent. Then the Ebony Warrior removed his helm, revealing…a Redguard! There was a collective gasp in the crowd. Martin raised his sword and said, "You fought well. You fought with honor. You will feast in Sovengarde…

The crowd went silent, waiting for the final blow…

"But not today," Martin finished as he sheathed his sword. "You said there was no challenge left for you, but I beg to differ. If you are willing, I have a challenge well suited to a warrior of your skill and caliber."

The Ebony Warrior nodded and fell to his knees. "You have defeated me in combat and you are my emperor. I will serve at your discretion."

"Good People, we haaave a winner! All Hail Emperor Martin Septim II!"

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Martin helped the Ebony Warrior up and the two headed for the gate.

Imperial Palace, Emperor's Antechamber

Even after a hearty meal and royal hot bath, Martin was tired, but there was one more important piece of business he needed to attend to before he retired for the evening. Right on queue there was a knock on his door.

"Enter."

A guard was escorting Igmund Blackmane. Martin dismissed the guard and Igmund looked around before Martin motioned for him to sit.

"Not what you'd expect?" Martin asked.

"I admit, the room is a little more spartan than I would expect for an emperor, although I guess I should not be all that surprised," Igmund had a small smile on his face.

"Thank you for coming, Igmund. I assume you've been keeping tabs on the war and the legions?"

Igmund nodded.

"Good, then you know we've expanded quite a bit, and we are about to, well, liberate, Valenwood. However there is a small issue. With the expansion and reorganization, we are a little short on generals to lead our legions."

"Surely you have enough qualified Legates that you can promote them."

It was Martin's turn to smile. "We do, and we have, but there is one opening that I think is a match for your skillset."

Igmund was surprised. "You mean…?"

"I would like to offer you complete amnesty and reinstatement as a general of the Imperial Legion."

Igmund was actually rendered speechless.

"I understand things went very bad, very fast, as far as our relationship, and the opening to the war did not help things." Martin paused for a moment and then continued. "But I would like to think both of us have gotten past that. The truth is, your empire needs you. The hard truth is, I need you."

Igmund studied his emperor for a moment before hesitantly responding. "Forgive me if I am overstepping, but I can see this is not easy for you."

Martin laughed out loud, "You have no idea."

Igmund was briefly started by the laughter and the admission, but then let out a hearty laugh himself. The tension and tentativeness both lifted. "What would you have me do, my emperor?"

"I would like you to command the Third Legion. You will report to Praetor Whitestone. You should know he was a big advocate for you, as was Consul Jonna."

"I am gracious for the opportunity and would be honored to accept your majesty."

"Excellent! Tomorrow you will head to Fort Black Boot and report to Praetor Whitestone, but as for tonight, would you join me for some wine?"

Imperial Palace, War Room
Midyear, 14th

When Martin walked in to the War Room, the generals and staff were talking about his victory. He smiled to himself briefly, but as he walked in, all conversation ceased. "Please, continue," he joked. There were a few obligatory chuckles as Martin took his seat at the table.

"What do we have consul?"

Jonna stood, "Your majesty, first and second armies are deployed north and east of Valenwood respectively. Elsweyr, Cyrodiil and Hammerfell each have a full legion garrisoned, and we have two divisions from Morrowind ready, in case the Thalmor try crossing our borders. The Praetors will accompany their armies and set up forward command posts in Silvernar and Elden Root. The liberation of Valenwood is ready to proceed on your orders."

Martin was impressed, in spite of himself. "Very well, the order is given. First light tomorrow, I assume?"

"Yes, your majesty."

Imperial Palace, Mid-Level Guest Quarters

Martin and Rimintil sat near a fire, enjoying some wine. Once again, Rimintil was surprised by his treatment. Technically, he was a prisoner, but he was being treated as an honored guest. He figured it was time to earn his keep and let the emperor know why he had requested that he be transferred here.

"Your Majesty," he began, "Things are not as uniform as they seem in the Aldmeri Dominion."

Martin was a little surprised by the statement, and motioned for Rimintil to continue.

"From the beginning, there has been an…underground…if you will. However, it was considered fringe and easily ignored. Over the past several weeks, there have been rumors of open dissent. Nothing solid, but they do seem to cohere around one individual. The identity of this individual is still unknown, and after my first defeat in Elsweyr, I was tasked with rooting out the individual and quashing the…underground."

"So there is dissent among the Thalmor," Martin opined. "That could prove useful. Please, tell me more, but first, how did you survive after your surrender? The first time, I mean."

"I'm a little more connected than most officers, plus, Estormo's actions were viewed by every soldier. Most of the blame went to him for putting personal vengeance above the will of the Thalmor. Since you dispatched him, he made for a convenient target. Many of the soldiers present vouched for what happened. That being said, I did not come out completely unscathed."

"Oh?"

Rimintil smiled. "Part of my penance was to seek out the underground and capture their leadership. After my 'success' there, I was offered a chance at full redemptions."

"The siege at Dune," Martin observed.

"Yes. What the leadership did not realize was that I was already starting to have some doubts of my own, so I had an ulterior motive for seeking out the underground. My leading the siege of Dune actually played out well for the underground, as it lead me here."

"What can you tell me of the underground?"

"They are organized in a very unusual fashion. There are various cells spread throughout Summerset Isle. There are rumored to be a few in Valenwood as well, but I was unable to confirm that and my investigation was limited to Summerset itself."

Martin nodded, but said nothing.

Rimintil continued. "Each cell has a leader who reports to a contact. It is rumored that each contact has a group of cell leaders, but the leaders are intentionally kept apart. No cell leaders knows the identity of any other cell leader. The contacts for each cell are grouped together in cells of their own, with a leader who reports to another contact. This contact is rumored to report directly to the mysterious leader. It is also said that the leader keeps the identities of his contacts secret."

"Let me see if I have this straight," Martin tried to grasp what he was being told. "There is a mysterious leader of this 'underground,' who has lieutenants, if you will, but none of the lieutenants know about each other. Then, each of these lieutenants have a cell of their own and operate in the same exact way as their leader, that is, one on one contact with each member of his cell, and each member's identity a secret. Then, each of those contacts then directs an underground cell of their own. Sounds complicated."

"It can be," Rimintil confirmed, "but it also has kept the Thalmor from making any headway in determining who is in charge and what, if any, coordination there is."

"Ok, so lay it all out for me."

"The Thalmor have adopted a scorched earth type of campaign. Everywhere except Summerset. While nobody will admit it openly yet, everyone expects The Empire will launch a full scale invasion. The Thalmor want to make that as difficult as possible. The underground want to undermine the Thalmor's efforts."

Martin considered what Rimintil was telling him. It would have a major impact. He decided to be direct with his next question. "How many divisions do the Thalmor have?"

Rimintil smiled a sad smile. This was it, there were no longer any half-measures. His peers would say he was about to betray everything he had ever stood for, but his brief time with the underground had opened his eyes. In order to truly help his people, he had to commit. He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, he wore a resolute expression. This was the best path for his people. It was his path to walk. Time to take the next step.

"When the war started," he began, "The War for Liberation, as they are calling it in the Aldmeri Dominion, we had twelve divisions at full strength. Four of those were all Khajiit. We have lost the Khajiit divisions with their succession, and we have lost three divisions through attrition. Since the war has started, we have managed to conscript two more divisions worth of soldiers, at least up to the point where I left for the siege of Dune."

Martin did some quick math in his head, "So…seven divisions then. How many in Valenwood?"

Rimintil shook his head, "I'm not sure. I'm sorry, I'm really not. They were reorganizing things when I left, and as I mentioned, they are pursuing a scorched earth policy. The overall plan they are working towards is to wear down your army across Valenwood, and then pull back to Summerset. They'll fortify the main island and prepare for an invasion."

"Fair enough, it's what we would do in their situation. I have to admit, I'm a little surprised. The Thalmor always seem so confident, to the point of arrogance…err…no offense," Martin apologized for his faux pa.

Rimintil smiled. "No, you are right. They are very overconfident. They underestimated your strength and that of your armies. Our intelligence pegged you at 5 legions, each one half the size of our divisions. The first battle was an eye opener for us. Also, Hammerfell rejoining the empire caught us off guard. We believed that if you split your forces, we would easily take Imperial City, and the war would be over."

"You really thought you'd win that quickly?" Martin asked.

"Yes, once we took Imperial City, then Morrowind, Skyrim, High Rock and Hammerfell would easily follow suit. The Aldmeri Dominion would be the new ruler of Tamriel."

"What about Black Marsh?"

Rimintil wrinkled his nose at the mention, "Let the Argonians have their swamps."

Martin chuckled, but was coming to a new understanding of the Altmer. "So, what else can you tell me?"

Rimintil was thoughtful for a moment. "Seeing how many legions you brought to bear in the defense of Elsweyr and the defense of Dune has given the Thalmor pause. You've managed to rebuild and even increase the strength of your legions much faster than they anticipated. There was substantial debate as to whether or not the army would commit all its resources to retaking Elsweyr. The siege of Dune was a compromise."

"And the siege of Skingrad?"

"Skingrad was supposed to keep your legions occupied so we could take Dune. Nobody expected you to send the bulk of your legions to defend a province that wasn't even yours. Our troops took to burning the vineyards and farms as a result and now they will likely pursue the same policy in Valenwood. I would urge caution if and when you send your Legions there. The Thalmor are laying many traps for your troops."

Martin considered Rimintil's words, and he considered his response very carefully. What Rimintil was telling him could either be very useful information or it could be an elaborate trap. Why then would he warn about traps if his words were a trap? Martin wrestled with how to proceed for a few minutes, but eventually decided to trust him.

"You have provided us with some very valuable information. Before I go on, I have to know. Why?"

Rimintil was thoughtful for a moment, "I witnessed a huge disparity in the information that the Thalmor provided, and the information I witnessed with my own eyes. For example, I saw how hard and how fiercely your troops fought. I witnessed, with great surprise, the Khajiit turn to fight us instead of you. I heard the rumors of Hammerfell and the Empire reuniting, even though we were told that was impossible. Then, I saw how you treated not only me, but my troops when we surrendered. Honestly, I expected you to take my head, but instead you sent me back."

Martin smiled at that last bit. "That does seem to be how the Empire treated its enemies," he quipped, remembering his own head on a block.

Rimintil nodded and continued, "Finally, when I went to seek out the underground, I saw firsthand what Thalmor rule was doing to our people. Not to mention what they did to Arenthia. I started having doubts on my way back to Elsweyr, but witnessing what life had become cemented those doubts and brought me to action."

"They did the same thing to Weatherleah," Martin added.

"What?"

"One of the divisions that besieged Skingrad. They killed every man woman and child," Martin confirmed.

Martin thought he saw Rimintil's golden skin briefly go pale.

"I-I had no idea. That was not part of their orders. I-I'm sorry," Rimintil's demeanor recovered, his face resolute. "There is no doubt. No, no doubt at all. Your majesty, I will help you however I can. I realize I am but a prisoner, but I do have one request: When you invade Summerset, please allow me to come along."

Martin was thoughtful as he considered Rimintil's request. "That is not unreasonable."

Rimintil noticed Martin didn't quite answer the question, but decided not to press. "What is to become of me in the meantime?"

"You will be my guest. You are free to move about the palace, but if you venture into the city, please have an escort. I'll let the guards and staff know that you are my honored guest." Martin rose to leave, "We'll talk again soon."

Ebon Ro, Valenwood
Midyear, 15th

Praetor Whitestone was sitting in his command tent. When First and Second Legions arrived in what used to be Ebon Ro, they were astounded and appalled at what they had found: The entire village had been burned to the ground. They did not find any remains, so they could only assume that the population was forcefully relocated.

At least that is what they had hoped.

The Praetor was meeting with his four generals. Third and Fourth legions had found the same thing when they arrived at Thormar Keep.

"Gentlemen, Lady," Whitestone nodded towards S'thasa, a female Khajiit who was the commanding general of the Fourth Legion. "I will send word back to Consul Jonna, reporting what we have found here. We are going to change our plans slightly. Igmund, I would like you to take Third Legion to Stone Fell and scout it out. I imagine they will have befallen the same fate. Meet up with us outside Silvernar and report in."

Igmund nodded acknowledgement of the order.

"The rest of us will move on to Vulkwasten Wood. We'll make our camp there and move on Silvernar at first light. Hadvar, leave a company strength detachment here."

Hadvar nodded acknowledgment of the order and motioned to his aid who quickly departed to make the arrangements.

"Alright, let's keep moving, but keep your head on a swivel. The Thalmor could ambush us at any point. Prepare your troops to move out."

Cormeir Spring, Valenwood

Cormeir Spring was a relatively small town. Like most cities and towns, its size and fortunes had risen and fallen over the centuries. Now it was a sleepy little hamlet with only one tavern, ironically called The Sleeping Boar. The Seventh Imperial Legion was camped outside the town. General Aerin and a small detachment rode to the tavern.

They got a few curious looks, but nobody questioned them. Word was starting to spread of villages and cities burned to the ground by the Thalmor, so their propaganda against the empire was starting to fall flat. Still, the tavern owner gave the general a cool greeting when he walked in with his senior officers.

Unenthusiasm quickly turned to surprise when General Aerin announced, "I'd like to rent out your entire establishment for one month."

"A whole month? I'd think you'd be long gone by then," one of the patrons piped up.

"Quiet, Rel!" The tavern keeper barked. Then he turned towards General Aerin. "I would love to comply, but it seems I may be placing our town in no small amount of danger…"

"The empire would be happy to compensate you accordingly," Aerin replied.

Surprise turned towards a mixture of greed and opportunism, the lure of coin enough to push all thoughts of danger aside. "Very well, let me show you what I have."

Vulkwasten Wood, Valenwood

As evening fell, three Imperial Legions descended on the town of Vulkwasten Wood. They stopped just outside of the city and were preparing to set up camp when they were met by a small group from the city.

Praetor Whitestone dismounted and walked over to meet them.

"Good evening, I am Nolian, we've come to discuss your intentions."

"Good evening, Nolian, I am Praetor Whitestone of the Imperial Legion. Are you the leader of this town?"

Nolian chuckled slightly, much to Whitestone's surprise. "No, I'm just a tavern owner who was unlucky enough to be chosen to meet with you."

Now it was Whitestone's turn to surprise Nolian. "Well, if you're a tavern owner, then I would like to rent out your entire tavern. You will be compensated for food and rooms. I intend on making your tavern a headquarters for this region."

"Wait…you want to rent my tavern?"

Whitestone smiled. "Yes. We're prepared to compensate you quite handsomely for your services, and if you are worried about reprisals," he looked over his shoulder briefly, "we are prepared to offer security."

Nolian turned towards the other two Bosmer, "Report back, let the townsfolk know they are not under threat from the Imperials. I'll stay here a little longer to negotiate."

The two Bosmer nodded and left without saying a word.

Nolian turned back to Whitestone. "Is there some place we can talk?"

Valenwood, Road to Stone Keep

General Blackmane was at the head of multiple columns of the Third Legion. He was on his horse, with a Legate to either side of him.

They were moving at a cautious pace, discussing the possibilities of what they would encounter at Stone Keep, when a series of arrows came from the trees, seemingly from nowhere.

"Shield wall!" Blackmane called out. The order was echoed down the line and the legion reformed with shield bearers lining the outside of the formation. The reorganization was briefly interrupted by a second volley, but by the time the third volley arrived, the legion was prepared to meet it. The Cavalry had dismounted as they would not be as effective in the forest and their height made them easy targets.

"General, it appears arrows are coming from both sides of the road. How do you wish to proceed?" Legate Orthus asked.

"Legate Orthus, you will get back on your horse and ride to Vulkwasten Wood. Ride hard and fast. Let Praetor Whitestone know we've come under attack, and Orthus, tell him I met the attack head on. No retreat this time."

"Yes, sire," Orthus smiled, nodded, then added, "Good luck, may the nine protect you."

Blackmane nodded and turned towards his other Legate, "Legate Aemelli, we're far too exposed out on the road. You will lead the assault to the east. I'll lead the assault to the west. Their archers are likely in the trees, so proceed accordingly. Use the trees as cover as much as you can. Try to get past them and flush them out. I'll do the same."

Legate Aemelli nodded, and starting issuing orders, which were passed down the line.

Legate Orthus got back on his horse and rode hard for Vulkwasten Wood.

General Blackmane moved down the line to get into position to lead his assault into the forest. He knew it was a risky strategy. The Bosmer had a distinct advantage in the trees, but he also knew that if he did nothing, he'd lose half his legion again. He was determined to fight, even if it cost him his life. He would not be remembered as a coward, but as a general who fought for his empire. He looked up and down the line, receiving a few nods in return.

Blackmane drew his sword, held it high in the air, took a deep breath, and as loud as he could, shouted, "For the Emperooorrrrr!" The Legionnaires echoed the shout behind him and followed him as he charged into the forest.

Cormeir Spring, Valenwood

General Aerin was abruptly interrupted while negotiating with the Tavern owner.

"Apologies for the intrusion, General, but we just received word that the Fifth Legion is under attack near Karthdar Square."

Aerin was thoughtful for a moment. "If my memory serves, that's a half day from here. General Rikke is going to have to support. Is the messenger still here?"

"Yes, sire."

General Aerin nodded and excused himself. He and the aide left the tavern and made their way to the Imperial Camp. The messenger was waiting for him in the command tent.

Aerin checked the map, just to be sure. Confident, he turned towards the messenger. "Have you informed General Rikke?"

"Yes, sire, she has moved to assist. My orders are to head down to Haven next."

"I'm going to modify your orders slightly," Aerin said, looking over the map again.

"With respect, sire, my orders come from Praetor Laudis himself."

"Yes, and I am confident the situation has changed quite a bit since you received them," Aerin observed. The messenger nodded sheepishly and Aerin continued, " Inform General Calidius what has transpired and then instruct her to meet us…here, at Green Hall. Then the two of us will take our legions to investigate Karthdar Square, join up with the legions there and we can move on towards Elden Root. Get some food. The missive will be ready by the time you are done eating and then you will proceed to Haven with haste."

Vulkwasten Wood, Valenwood

Praetor Whitestone and General Hadvar were in the command tent in the Imperial Legion Encampment outside of Vulkwasten Wood. Nolian was with them, discussing recent events that had impacted his town.

"We have no militia, not even town guards, so you can imagine we were quite fearful when we heard of your approach," Nolian was explaining. "Some of this fear was caused by the refugees we had taken in."

"Refugees?" Hadvar asked.

"From Ebon Ro. Many were forced out of the town before it was razed. Some of the refugees reported seeing soldiers in Imperial Armor."

"That can't be," Whitestone objected. "All our soldiers have been accounted for, and we were shocked at what we found."

"Yes, yes. We know that now. Some of the Bosmer soldiers in the Thalmor military have, well, they have deserted. Some of them have told stories of how they were forced to don imperial legion armor and carry out atrocities against their own people. That was actually the main push behind their desertion." Nolian said.

Whitestone was surprised again. Having faced the Thalmor troops, he witnessed their discipline first-hand. This was news that must be reported back to Cyrodiil. "Where are they now?" he asked.

"Some have been mixed in with the refugees, others have been hiding out in some of the local dungeons." Nolian replied. "We lost a few clearing them out, but now there are places they can safely avoid the Thalmor armies, as well as any retribution for deserting."

"I don't see how they could just up and leave," Hadvar remarked.

"Some of the Altmer, only a few, but enough, were sympathetic," Nolian explained.

"Sympathetic Altmer?" Whitestone scoffed.

"Not all Altmer are of uniform thought. There are those who still live in the Empire, are there not?"

Whitestone nodded.

"Well," Nolian continued, "Some in the Aldmeri Dominion do not necessarily hold to the beliefs of the Thalmor. A small handful have not only helped, but openly deserted alongside their Bosmer cousins. Many of them, Bosmer and Altmer, wish to overthrow the Thalmor."

"Thank you, Nolian. You've provided us with a lot of helpful information. Do you mind if I ask why?" Whitestone inquired.

Nolian smiled sadly. "Not all Bosmer supported the Thalmor. In fact, may opposed them in the beginning, but the Thalmor moved quickly to squash dissent and those who opposed them started living in fear. Word of what happened to Arenthia spread quickly and fear turned to anger, with many yearning to throw off the yoke of the Thalmor. The Thalmor retaliated by razing many of our towns, and many have lost loved ones or been forced out of their homes."

Whitestone nodded. He realized that they really were liberators.

"May I ask what your intentions are with us?"

"You mean Vulkwasten Wood?" Whitestone asked.

Nolian nodded.

"As I stated earlier, I would like to rent out your tavern. It will serve as headquarters for the First Imperial Army. From there we will plan and coordinate the liberation of Silvernar and, eventually, of Falinesti."

"And what of Valenwood once the Thalmor are defeated?"

"You will be a free province of the Empire. I realize there are many who would prefer independence, but I give you my word your citizens will be treated fairly and no reprisals for any past actions will be committed, and no crimes will be charged."

"This comes from your Bosmer emperor?" Nolian pressed.

"It does," Whitestone confirmed.

"Then I would be happy to rent out my tavern," Nolian confirmed. "For a reasonable fee of course."

War Room, Imperial Palace
Midyear, 17th

The Emperor was meeting with Consul Jonna and few other senior military leaders. The War Room was less crowded with two of the Praetors and all of their generals deployed for the liberation of Valenwood. They were discussing the series of dispatches received from there.

"I won't coat this in honey, your majesty," Jonna began, "The results so far have been mixed and we've experienced some losses."

"Understood, Consul. Please continue."

"First Army found both the towns of Ebon Ro and Thormar Keep to be abandoned and razed. Praetor Whitestone sent the Third Legion to investigate Stone Keep, while the rest of First Army pressed on to Vulkwasten Wood. They have liberated the town without any resistance and set up their headquarters there. The Third Legion was ambushed along the road to Stone Keep. Over half the legion was lost. General Blackmane is missing and presumed-"

"Missing," Martin interrupted. "There is a chance he was captured, or he may still be in the forest evading capture."

"Of course, my liege," Jonna continued. "General Blackmane is missing. Legate Orthus is in temporary command as Legate Aemelli was killed during the fighting. Currently, all of the First Army legions are besieging the city of Silvernar. The Thalmor are reported to have a single division garrisoned in the city. We expect Silvernar to be ours inside a week."

"Ok, that's not too bad," Martin observed. "What's the latest on Second Army?"

"That's…where things are not so good," Jonna began. "Cormeir Spring and Haven were liberated with any resistance. Lynpar March was no longer there. The Sixth Legion found it razed. The Fifth Legion fell under attack by an overwhelming force at Karthdar Square. General Rikke moved her Sixth Legion up to assist, but Generals Aerin and Calidius were too far to arrive in a timely manner."

"What happened to the Fifth Legion?" Martin asked.

"They were all but wiped out. General J'Kier managed to survive, but I'm afraid Praetor Laudis did not. He was killed in the fighting."

The news hit Martin hard. While he had developed a pretty good relationship with all his generals, he considered Consul Jonna and the Praetors to be his personal friends. He recovered and instructed Jonna to arrange for the remains to be brought back to Cyrodiil.

"Arrangements are in the works. He will be given a royal funeral with a procession through each district of the city." Tullius informed him.

"Ok, thank you," Martin replied.

Tullius nodded, and Jonna continued the briefing. "J'Kier has assumed command of the remains of Second Army, I think making the command permanent is in order. There are multiple reports of his bravery, ferocity and honor on the battlefield."

Martin nodded, but said nothing.

"The remains of the Fifth and Sixth Legions met up with Seventh and Eighth Legions at Green Hall. From there, they are awaiting reinforcements and further orders."

"What is the plan for them going forward?" Martin asked.

"We are going to temporarily transfer the Ninth Legion from Tullius' command to J'Kier's. That will give them four legions to siege Elden Root. From there, Seventh and Eighth Legions will join First and Second Legions for the assault on Falinesti. The Ninth Legion will head south of them to prevent any flanking the Thalmor. The Sixth Legion will garrison Elden Root and the Fourth Legion will garrison Silvernar."

"That's a sound plan, Jonna, thank you." Martin said. "What is the plan for filling out the Third and Sixth Legions?"

"Praetor Whitestone has discovered some Bosmer deserters. They have requested to join the fight against the Thalmor. He will screen them and assign them where appropriate. The rest of the openings will be filled from our training legion here in Cyrodiil. We've been recruiting pretty heavily, especially from Skyrim." Jonna replied.

Martin closed out the meeting by addressing the group "Thank you, Jonna. We've experienced more losses than we expected, but I believe the overall plan is still good. I know many of you were close to Praetor Laudis. While I have only known him a short time, I consider him a good friend. He will be remembered as a hero of the Empire, and he will be given full honors. I would like to lead the attack on Falinesti once our troops are in position."

There were several nods around the table. "Of course your majesty. We'll bring you a final plan before our legions move on the city." Jonna said.

Martin stood, "Thank you, Jonna. Thank you all of you."

The meeting closed on a bit of somber note, but though somber, each person there left with determination.

Emperor's Quarters

Martin and Lydia were enjoying some fine wine, but Martin's mood, though thoughtful, was still somber.

"Laudis' death is hitting you hard, isn't it?" Lydia observed.

"Yeah, and possibly General Blackmane as well," Martin replied. "Igmund and I had just resolved our differences. We finally came to understand each other. I-"

Martin stopped, seemed lost in thought for a moment and then he turned to face Lydia.

She was unable to read his expression. "I am sorry, Martin. I know you've lost people before, but this must be especially hard on you."

He smiled ruefully. "Life in Skyrim was short and hard. I had thought that when we moved to Cyrodiil, life would be…not easier, but…longer? Less hard? I dunno."

He paused and took a breath. "One thing I am learning, is that no matter where we live, life is short and can end suddenly and unexpectedly. Martin took Lydia's hands in his as he said, "I don't know if my life will be short or long, but however much time I have left, I want it to be with you."

"What are you saying?"

Martin let out a breath, trying to gather his thoughts. He was sure of what he wanted, but not sure how to express himself. "Lydia, I love you. I have for a long time."

"I love you too, Martin…Cadriel…from the moment I was first introduced to you as your housecarl, I felt…I dunno…something."

Martin chuckled softly. "So did I, but why then did it take us so long to admit our feelings for each other?"

"Life seemed to keep getting in the way," Lydia answered.

"Life…it keeps coming back to life, doesn't it? Life can be long or it can be short, or it can seem long and suddenly be cut short. Lydia, we took our time admitting how we feel, and I deeply regret the time that was lost. I don't want to lose any more time. I know in my heart that you and I are meant to be together. I want nothing more for you and I to be together."

"We are together, and we always will be," Lydia replied.

Martin took a deep breath, the words finally coming to him, "Lydia, I took years to tell you that I love you. Years I may not have had. I don't know how many years I have left, but I want each one to be with you…as my wife. Lydia, will you marry me?"

A surge of emotions was pouring through Lydia. She wasn't even sure she heard the words. She loved Martin, deeply and she wanted to be with him, but was now the right time? Life always seemde to get in the way. No, he was right, they had no idea how much life they had left, and she knew in her heart that Martin was the one for her. She knew in her heart whether Thane, Emperor or just plain adventure, she wanted him and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

"I…Yes! Yes, I will marry you!" Lydia exclaimed. Then she leaned in and kissed him deeply, wrapping her arms around him. Martin wrapped his arms around her and the two sat there, kissing and holding each other tight. Regardless of what happened in the war, this night belonged to them.

Blacklight, Morrowind
Midyear, 18th

Redoran Councilors Varel Thelas and Tovas Indalen were meeting in the home of Tovas. They were discussing the councils recent change in stance in deciding to support the Empire. Councilor Indalen was a close friend and supporter of Lleril Morvayn, and had favored supporting the Empire. Councilor Thelas was against it, and had allies as well, but some of his allies had seemingly switch sides at the last minute.

"So tell me," Varel was trying to goad his friend, "how much did you have to bribe the others to get them on your side?"

Tovas smiled, but said nothing regarding the implied accusation. "Pray tell, Varel, how do you think our Altmer cousins would treat us should they conquer Cyrodiil."

Varel scoffed, "You know they do not consider us kin. The Nords treat us better than they ever would. That does not change the fact that we have worked very hard to become independent. House Redoran is a force to be reckoned with in its own right."

"It has," Tovas agreed. "In no small part due to our ability to see the big picture and play the long game, no?"

"Of course. We're many moves ahead of our opponents. We always have been."

Tovas smiled again, "So tell me, what is the long view of the current political situation?"

"Either the Thalmor win, or the Empire does. Either way, it does not affect our drive for independence." Varel claimed.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, my friend. If the Thalmor win, they will not stop in Cyrodiil. They will take Skyrim and Morrowind and make us slaves. Best case, we are third class citizens in our own land."

"And the Empire won't?" Varel pressed.

"The Empire has seen fit to leave us be for now. We have agreed to send them two divisions, but have insisted in keeping a division here, under our own command. We have received gold from them, but have remained largely autonomous. With just a little cooperation, we can help them defeat the Thalmor." Tovas explained.

"Ah ha! And once they have, they will move to subjugate us again!" Varel was ready to claim victory in their debate.

"Is that so?" Tovas was not ready to concede. "Councilor Morvayn has close ties to the Emperor. You could say he has his ear. Lleril is in a unique position to influence the Empire's policy towards Morrowind."

"And you believe he'll use that influence to help us maintain our autonomy?"

"I do." Tovas admitted.

Varel was thoughtful for a moment. "But for how long?"

"Until we are strong enough to become a nation in our own right, equal to the Aldmeri Dominion. Not through force, but through diplomacy."

Varel was starting to see the point Tovas was trying to make, but was not yet ready to concede. "Well, I guess we'll see what the future holds. I hope you are right, but to be honest, I'm not so sure."

"We're both working towards the same end, no?" Tovas asked.

"Yes, but it remains to be seen which one of us has the correct path to get there."

Tovas chuckled. "That it does, my friend, that it does."

Varel smiled as he stood. "A pleasure as always, Tovas."

Tovas escorted him to the door. "Until next time, Varel."

Tovas closed the door and went across the room. He went through another door, descended some stairs and unlocked a door at the end of the hallway. He entered the room, momentarily ignoring the Bosmer sitting at the table reading a book. He went over to an armor stand which contained a full set of blades armor, as polished as it was the day he first received it. Tovas stroked the armor wistfully for a moment before turning to the Bosmer.

"Malborn, I believe it's time we head to Cyrodiil."

Author's Note: I would like to give a special Thank You to Dark Brotherhood Listener, DragonbornCourier and Medical Mercy Angel for beta reading this chapter. It was much improved due to their input. We're just over halfway through the fourth act and we'll see the end of the war soon. After the war, the last and final act will be the post-war empire. As always, if you have any constructive criticism, please do not hesitate to message me. I hope everyone celebrating the 4th of July has a happy and safe celebration!