Elder Scrolls Travels: Rosgard

by Sapiarch of Tamrielic Studies

4E 206. A traveling merchant is attacked by bandits on the road from Corten Mont to Rosgard. Although of minor importance and seemingly a random attack, a certain parchment plundered is just what the bandits sought. Rumors of a fallen Thalmor hero become truth and then another declaration. The second battle is to be decided by a drink. Another warrior makes way for Rosgard.

7. Chapter Six: The Palace

First Seed, Sundas, 1st:

"So, Sitirus Artanian of Cyrodiil, is it?" the gatekeeper asked while examining his papers.

"That is correct," Sitirus confirmed, trading momentary glances with the nearby peasantry who eyed his imperial chain armor thinking he was a Legionnaire. He could not blame them for it, offering a small smile in return to allay their concerns. Seeing a single Imperial Legionnaire outside of Cyrodiil or High Rock would have made anyone wonder why they came alone. He would have to get used to it in his search for another set of armor that could fit him. The imperial chain armor was nearly done serving its purpose. Once he found one, he could remove it and put it behind him.

The Breton gatekeeper appraised the paperwork for a few more moments before returning them while saying, "Looks legit." He turned to yell up to the guard atop the wall, "Open the gate!" then looked at Sitirus again to offer a curt nod, adding, "Enjoy your stay in Rosgard, Legionnaire."

Sitirus returned a smile as he said, "Thank you," then stepped back to wait for the portcullis to open. He could not see the other side because it was also blocked by another gate meant to keep intruders out, though as Luvir told him, it was not the only way in. It made Sitirus wonder just how safe Rosgard was if anybody with ill intent found another. Sitirus tried not to think about it, instead preparing himself for what lied before him. Even though he had yet to step through and see Rosgard in full, he could already picture what the town was like based on the map Luvir had given him and the strong first impression he got from seeing the harbor and traversing its streets. He expected the streets and town squares inside would be just as bustling, full of people going about their business as they gathered together and converged around their town's many points of interest, and generally lived life to the fullest while savoring all the comforts and pleasures of home. Sitirus stifled a tear at the thought of the home he left behind but felt at ease since Rosgard had the potential to be one.

The people here in the Bay District, particularly the locals, acted like Lady Arannelya never invaded. Those who lived to see their town rebuilt following their defeat almost appeared as if they were celebrating hers as a part of the Second Great War. It was contagious enough to make Sitirus express a small smile but the apprentice warrior could not say he was as happy. Rosgard's citizens, including those who migrated to the town during or after reconstruction, expressed a sense of pride in their accomplishment, an achievement Sitirus never felt before in Anvil. Knowing his hometown could not say the same demonstrated the stark contrast between the former capital city-state of the Gold Coast and the most important checkpoint in the Kingdom of Taneth. Rosgard stood, as Luvir said to him earlier, despite Lady Arannelya and in spite of her. Anvil, with its dwindling population and diminishing reputation, could only dream of being able to say the same. A shame it shattered.

Luvir also told him migrants from the Gold Coast passed by on their way to Taneth, making Sitirus wonder what their reactions were to a more successful town. What did they say upon seeing Rosgard's full recovery in person? What would everyone still living in Anvil say if they happened to find themselves in the area? No doubt they would be jealous of Rosgard's restoration and angry at the Kingdom of Taneth and its Redguards for receiving funds and resources to rebuild. Luthiele especially would certainly be the most vocal in that regard. Sitirus nearly cracked a wider smile at the thought of his father baffled by the sight of a fully recovered Rosgard. It was slightly amusing imagining Luthiele standing before Rosgard in a stupefied awe, unable to say anything but sputter defamations in humiliation as he beheld the sheer might of Redguard reconstruction. He restrained himself though, because it was not fair to make fun of Anvil's current state even if it was directed solely at his father. As corrupt as Luthiele was, he too had become a product of their home's ruin.

Even if Anvil did receive help, it would take time for things to return to normal. How long was anyone's guess but it depended on when the Second Great War would end. However, that did not necessarily mean Anvil would recover. Those who called the village home and had enlisted to fight the Thalmor might not have stayed for long if they returned. Sitirus supposed that, much like him, they would question whether Anvil was worth coming back to and if it was time to sever ties.

Still, Sitirus hoped things would eventually turn around in Anvil's favor. Once the war was wrapped up to near completion, perhaps the Empire would realize it needed a stronger presence in the Abecean Sea to keep pirates like Velehk Sain at bay and rival Hammerfell in a bid for control. That was the benefit of having two huge maritime powers in the Gold Coast. It allowed the Empire to enforce its command of southeastern Hammerfell and northwestern Valenwood, back when the Bosmeri province belonged to it. The Empire was also able to maintain its hold over Stirk and use the island as part of a deterrent against piracy. Its power to regulate the flow of maritime trade over the Abecean, particularly in the waters governed by Anvil and Sutch, brought in as much coin and as many goods as the Imperial City's own waterfront itself. That was a lot more than the Nibenese ports of Bravil and Leyawiin, which together were responsible for taking sizable cuts from imperial endeavors. The Gold Coast was practically the capital of the Abecean Sea, up until Anvil's demise.

Once the portcullis finished opening, two of the four guards on duty went into the archway to open the inner gate for Sitirus and the waiting locals. They then ushered the small crowd through and locked the inner gate behind them. Nobody could advance much further though, as they needed to wait for the second portcullis inside the town to open. Sitirus was glad to see that Rosgard took its security seriously despite what he heard from Luvir. He turned to give the guards on duty inside the town a grateful nod before exiting, although only one of them returned the gesture with a small smile of his own as Sitirus went by. The other just ignored him, keeping her eyes ahead for trouble. It did not bother Sitirus. He could understand why. Her sense of responsibility was thanks enough.

As the portcullis closed behind him, Sitirus stepped aside and let the locals pass so he could take in the sights. Although the Bay District was the first part of Rosgard he stepped foot in, simply entering the gate made it seem like he had only just arrived at that very moment. Throngs of people swarmed the streets from left to right and here to there but the town was not as crowded due to the war as he expected. It was a nice confirmation that Rosgard was still just as lively without the fuss.

Most of the inhabitants were local Redguards because they were the native population, but Rosgard was home to as many Imperials, Bretons, Nords, and Dunmer who all collectively formed the secondary demographic. Orsimer and Argonians lived here too, though there were not as many. Of the races, Sitirus could not tell who among the Imperials were Colovian or Nibenese, but Luvir told him there were dozens of Colovian Imperials for every one Nibenese Imperial. He also warned Sitirus not to call the Orcs Orsimer since some of them might take offense. Sitirus did not need to be told twice, having lived long enough in Sutch to know they disliked the ancient name which, in the common tongue, meant 'Pariah Folk." How its word sounded felt more polite than its meaning.

He looked up at the buildings, noting how they looked a lot like the structures in the harbor. Houses stood around nearby storefronts, taverns, and temples the residents could easily walk to in no time. Weary travelers from neighboring settlements and beyond could check into the inns which sat near the gates to rest their legs after a long journey and get rooms for the night or coming days. Choirs from local temples and outdoor shrines resonated on the streets, although from their echoes and his unfamiliarity, Sitirus did not think he was close enough to identify which lyrics were which.

Many of the people around and before him were talking to one another or in groups. Gossip sounded plentiful in Rosgard, allowing word and rumor to spread from one person to the next. He wondered what sorts of content and context he might hear or overhear. All he had to do was listen.

Sitirus could only grin at the town he found himself standing in. Everywhere he looked, its personality and character were on full display, letting him sample everything Rosgard had to offer.

Hardly anyone was paying attention to the supposed "Legionnaire" who just entered town, giving Sitirus the impression that they were unaware of his arrival. The inhabitants who came from the Bay District would soon let them know, however, so he would not be surprised to find eyes on him while proceeding. Sitirus worried though, if they would view him as one and continue to even if he disposed of the armor, or would they see him any differently from other migrants, adventurers, or travelers? A few appeared to be immediately responsive to the newcomer's arrival, spotting him as they passed by. Sitirus could not help but fear they would react with indifference, perhaps even disdain over the Empire's desertion of Hammerfell after the First Great War concluded in Cyrodiil. He quickly found he had nothing to worry about when he saw them smile in friendly welcome, as if saying, "Come and explore Rosgard for yourself, Imperial. We appreciate your business." Sitirus returned a smile, showing his gratitude for the acknowledgement but figuring it was his armor that garnered their attention over him, the young man wearing it. Its appearance alone spoke volumes.

Immediately, Sitirus began to feel uncomfortable at the thought of that. What would it have said when he took it off to remove his disguise? Would the act of its removal completely undo the town's generosity toward him? How would Rosgard react to someone who left their home behind?

He could not say. The answers eluded him. All Sitirus could do was shut his eyes and take a deep breath before facing Rosgard. The town welcomed him, offering him a hand he had to take.

Sitirus began to walk forward, taking in as much of the street he was on as possible. A lone inn called the Queen's Sailor was the first building directly on his right, though it looked more like a bunkhouse given the makeshift porch and shoddy doors and windows. He had not given it much of a glance at first, though a shout in the Nordic tongue from inside followed by a Dunmer tumbling out the entrance seized his attention as he walked by. The fierce Nord he heard stormed out, raising a fist at the Dunmer and demanding an overdue tab for unpaid drinks and however many nights he spent. Sitirus thought about intervening but it was not his business to. The Dunmer had to face the consequences of his actions. Besides, the guards already beat him to it as four hurried over to break up the fight by separating the two and getting their statements. Several onlookers paused to observe too, remarking on the incident and shaking their heads in disappointment. One of the men present, a fellow Nord who seemed to be friends with the publican, had even stepped forward to speak up.

Sitirus ignored it as he continued walking just as everyone else around him stopped paying attention to it, leaving him free to enjoy the mostly quiet mid-morning. He turned the corner at the end of the street onto another, then crossed that street toward a third a short distance away, noticing that while a few people mentioned the situation in passing as they continued to go about their own business, most looked so unbothered that they seemed to forget it happened or quickly lost interest. Had Rosgard recovered to such a degree that petty brawls like that one no longer warranted much attention? Even though the war was still ongoing? Could it be considered a sign of a healthy town?

It was only an isolated occurrence but as part of Rosgard's first impression upon him, it all felt so surreal and alien. So…alive. So unlike Anvil's current state. Perhaps if his hometown tried not to look so dead or dying it might have given a better one or at least be capable of matching the imprint Rosgard made. Appearing like it still drew breath was better than turning into a ghost town.

Sitirus stopped for a moment to take another deep breath so he could clear his head. Trying to compare and contrast Anvil to Rosgard was only making him feel more homesick. If he did not stop, he was seriously going to regret coming and reconsider his decision to leave. He was glad to have thought of something that imbued him with hope for his hometown's future, though he needed to keep from dwelling on a past he could neither change nor go back to. Even if he could somehow return to Anvil, there was little guarantee he would make it. Sitirus did not have enough drakes for a return voyage, and taking the road home by foot would take even longer and was more perilous. Since his only way left was forward, all he could do was steel himself for the road ahead and move.

His destination was the town's palace, a massive structure in the middle of Rosgard where he might find Captain Milren Dranto. The Dunmeri knight was often stationed there to oversee the guard and promptly answer Baron Fherhti's summons. When Sitirus asked Luvir about it, the clerk explained that getting into the palace was not easy. The estate was surrounded, both by a sprawling fortress and a wide moat that could only be crossed by drawbridge, which the house guards would lower once the gatekeepers permitted him to go across, or boat, if he was one of the servants, which meant the drawbridge was his only way in. Once Sitirus arrived, the gatekeepers would check him for weapons and whatever magic scrolls he had on him, then instruct him to wear a ring enchanted to inhibit his spellcasting. That would get them to lower the drawbridge, although the house guards on the other side would need to confiscate his weapons before opening the barbican. The ring was not needed due to his defect and he had no magic scrolls, though Sitirus understood the steps were required to gain access to the barbican, where a clerk in service to the steward would look over his papers to determine if he could enter the estate under an armed escort's supervision. Luvir said the escort typically consisted of two house guards but that a pair of town guards were usually available if they were not, and that if he was a known member of one of the guilds in town or had a reputable background in Rosgard, Sitirus could just walk right in without the escort. From the description, it sounded like the palace made Rosgard look like a castle town, complete with the amenities of one.

If Sitirus was lucky, however, he might come across the captain on his way. Although that would speed things up, it would have been improper since the letter describing his situation could only be read in private. Captain Dranto was likely to send him there anyway, and although he could direct Sitirus toward one of the closest barracks in Rosgard, Sitirus would have to go to the palace at some point. There was no getting out of meeting the local ruler if he planned to stay for a while.

As he walked, Sitirus found himself still admitting that Rosgard looked every bit the idyllic town to start over in. With its people unaware of his identity, save the few able to make an educated guess based on what he told them, though uninterested in spreading word, Sitirus was now free to become anyone he wanted. He expressed a small smile to himself at the prospect, recognizing that the possibilities seemed endless. His choices going forward would define the sort of man he wanted to be: an ordinary mercenary with no desire for fame, wealth, and power that would draw attention to his status in relation to Luthiele Kratian. His past was already beginning to subside now that he was going by the name, Sitirus Artanian, though he did not want to let go of it entirely. He wanted to retain his first name and background as a warrior to reflect who he used to be and drive him into becoming one. There was hardly much else he could do aside from relying on his skills as a noble.

Being a warrior made decision making easier, even if mercenary work was all he could do. Although not particularly outstanding, the job was not without risks. All kinds of dangers could be found roaming the wilderness, and Rosgard was just as susceptible to raids from local bandits and marauders. Every contract could give him a run for his money, and there was a good chance Sitirus might not make it back alive or survive his injuries for much longer. The thought of never sending letters to his mother and everyone else he cherished back home, many of whom would likely move on from Anvil, terrified him. Anyone and anything could suddenly snatch his life away from them. Such thought would frighten any warrior into giving up. Sitirus was no different from the rest who had only just become apprentice warriors in that regard, having as much to offer but more to lose. That kind of hesitation often nearly sent him home in the first months of his apprenticeship, though he overcame those tribulations…only to board a ship to leave Anvil since he was kidding himself.

Sitirus stopped to clear his head again. He really needed to stop beating himself up over it. The longer he grappled with it, the more he would struggle with his decision to leave Anvil behind. Now that home was beyond dozens of miles away, he no longer had the luxury of going back and seeing his mother and friends again. Walking through Rosgard should have made a difference but it did not. He was still the same apprentice warrior as when he had left. He was still Sitirus Kratian.

He then sighed ruefully. Moving on was not going to be as easy as he thought. He probably should have gone by a different first name than hold onto the original but it was too late to go back and change it now. If he was to go by the name, Sitirus Artanian, he had to become Sitirus Artanian, and let his actions speak for him, louder than Sitirus Kratian's etiquette and speechcraft ever could.

His self-reflection was interrupted just then by a hand on his breastplate from a person who suddenly stepped in front of him. Sitirus had not registered their presence at first but discovered it was a young woman when he looked up. He could not determine what race she was as she wore a green robe hood over her head, obscuring much of her auburn colored hair and her ears. However, she had fair skin and a dainty appearance, so he assumed she was an Imperial or a Breton. She was also dressed in an olive vest and a green linen skirt, with oiled linen shoes on her feet and a bronze amulet that hung around her neck. The young woman flashed him a smile, her brown eyes meeting his as she invaded his personal space without permission and said in a sultry voice, "Wow," while caressing his breastplate, "look at the muscles on you, soldier boy." Sitirus caught the sound of her accent, recognizing that it sounded native to the region from his prior meeting with Luvir, and soft, which further implied she was a Breton or Nibenese Imperial specifically. Colovian Imperials did not have that same pitch in their voices. At the same time, his nose caught a strong whiff of alcohol on her breath, indicating that she was intoxicated. Sitirus furrowed his brow at that. Had the young woman been drinking this morning and if so, how much? He did not want to ask that aloud to one he just met whose name he had yet to ask for. It would have been rude to, though he got the feeling he should not. He turned his head to search the street for thieves and cutthroats while he struggled to keep an eye on her at the same time, fearing she was one. Hardly anyone took notice, however, most likely because she might have been a siren from around here, although he spotted a Redguard man in the distance observing him inconspicuously. Sitirus could not make out who the Redguard was from far away and because there were too many people coming and going between them. The woman had also suddenly reached a hand up to turn his cheek toward her so their eyes could meet again, as if she knew and was keeping him from seeing the Redguard. "You know," she remarked while studying his face, "I haven't seen you in Rosgard before stranger. Care to share your name?"

Sitirus pulled away, equally disgusted by the siren's allure and worried that she was likely creating a distraction for an accomplice—perhaps that Redguard—to run in and rob him. "Sorry," he brusquely apologized as he hurried past, "I need to get going." He threw a look over his shoulder to keep her and the suspicious Redguard from capitalizing on the moment, though he did not expect to catch either of them in the act. A few passerby had given him odd looks like he was acting funny for an Imperial Legionnaire, which he would have tolerated if he appeared to be sightseeing, so he turned back to keep his eyes ahead of him, not wanting to bump into someone by accident. He was hoping they would not follow, although if they did he could try to lose them in the crowded streets.

"Wait," he heard her call out to him as she followed, "where you going, handsome?"

"That is privileged information," he responded, hastening his pace to leave her behind.

"Come on," the temptress pressed seductively as she ran to catch up, sounding like she was mistaking his disinterest as a cue that he was playing hard to get. She threw both of her arms around Sitirus' right arm and attempted to pull the young man in another direction. "I'll take you wherever it is if you'd like," she promised, though Sitirus doubted she would. "I can even show you around."

Sitirus halted as he replied, "I appreciate the offer, though I must be going," while yanking his arm away, causing the young woman to lose her balance. Startled, she cried out as she stumbled and tripped over her own feet, falling backward before Sitirus and the closest passerby could catch her. Her hood flew back as she fell, revealing a neatly combed head full of hair tied back in a short but messy ponytail and the signature pointed ears of a Breton. She landed on her bottom in a rather unceremonious position and threw an arm behind her to keep from hitting her head on the ground. Sitirus was beginning to feel guilty for causing the accident. He had not intended to pull hard, just exert enough strength to get away, though realized it had only made the situation worse. He started to drop one of the sacks so he could offer her a helping hand but stopped when someone else beat him to it and because he caught that Redguard hanging back. Their eyes met, although while Sitirus calmly stared back, the Redguard glared and turned to disappear in the shadows of an unseen alley.

Taking that as a decision to leave him alone, Sitirus turned back to the siren on the ground. She was laughing as if what just happened was a joke, waving those who approached to assist her off so she could stagger to her own feet, though she lost her balance and fell again from awkwardly positioning her feet forward while leaning backward. Sitirus noticed that not everybody looked as concerned for her safety, since some of the onlookers returned dirty looks or averted their gaze as she met theirs. Should he have taken that as his cue to get away this time? He was unsure because some people looked just as confused as him, but he did look in the direction he was meant to go in before turning back to the Breton. The sight of her sprawled all over the ground made him wonder if she was in on whatever that Redguard was planning or had been a convenient scapegoat he could trail and pin the blame on. He sighed as he put one of the sacks down. Leaving a damsel in distress, even if she did not look the part, would give the Imperial Legion a bad name. Wearing their armor only seemed to cause more problems than it solved. Still, he offered the temptress a hand now that it seemed safe, saying, "Sorry about that. Are you okay?" more out of obligation as it was his fault.

She did not immediately answer, though took his hand with a drunken smile as she laughed. Sitirus kept eyeing her cautiously as he helped her up and steady herself, not completely convinced that she was innocent. He paid especial attention to her free hand, staying out of its reach as much as possible until he could let go and back up. "No…worries," the Breton nearly slurred her words, hiccupping in between words as she dismissed his apology, swaying unsteadily on her feet despite maintaining her balance with Sitirus' assistance. "I'll…feel a lot better…with a man like you…at my side…and a belly full…if you catch my drift." Just as he nearly retracted his hand, she smirked while suddenly invading his personal space again by grabbing his arms and pulling herself into his reluctant embrace. Sitirus half thought she was trying to better right herself at first but it was clear that she was only interested in him. She threw a hand around the back of his head while she added, "My hero…" in what Sitirus could only describe as the most seductive voice he ever heard from a siren like her. He had heard a lot of them trying to sweettalk their way into beds while living back in Anvil and Sutch, including his own which he never once permitted and was not about to for her, although old Shulmonk fell for the temptation on more than one occasion. His body grew tense at the thought of another problem he wished would have stayed in the Gold Coast, causing Sitirus to blush in embarrassment. That was the wrong reaction apparently, for it only made the siren smile.

"No," he kept his voice firm and neutral, stopping her before she could speak. "I do not."

"Pity," she teased him nonetheless as he gently disentangled himself from her, making sure that his mother's amulet of Dibella remained around his neck. From her tone, she sounded like she believed otherwise, that he was trying to keep his sudden desire for her body in check and failing. Sneers from passerby annoyed her into stopping as she turned to make an obscene gesture at them, nearly losing her balance again which snapped her out of the pointedly cruel gaze she added. Sitirus half considered lending a hand again but decided against it after she took advantage of his kindness and because she was able to right herself on her own this time. She groaned irritably, though turned back to him to say, "But seriously…thanks for that. I really could've used a hand there," doing her best to control her hiccups. "You won't believe how rude this town can be to a poor girl like me." Sitirus tilted his head at that as she went on, "Nobody thinks I've got what it takes, that I'm hardly cut out for whatever work I can get my hands on." She then looked Sitirus directly in the eye with a hardened gaze as she demanded, "You're not cut from the same cloth as these vandals, are you?"

Sitirus tilted his head as he pulled away to create some distance between them, wondering if he had the wrong impression of her or if what she just said was a lie meant to identify with him. "I have only just arrived, so I cannot say for certain," he answered honestly to be polite, though he kept his guard up in case she tried to snatch something from him or that Redguard returned, picking up his sack just to be safe. "I do think you could apply yourself and put in the effort, though, but I would leave people alone if they were not interested in my advances instead of forcing myself onto them if I were you." He turned to go with a parting nod, giving her the benefit of the doubt against his better judgment. "You are welcome, but if you will excuse me, I must be going. Safe travels."

He walked away, thinking that would have been the end of it. However, when he heard her say, "That's it?" from behind, imagining her shrugging at the sight of his departure, he had a feeling he was wrong. Sure enough, she was jogging after him while adding, "Seriously, leaving so soon?"

"Yes, actually," he replied without looking over his shoulder. "I have business to attend."

Sitirus suddenly barreled forward two paces when she lunged for him again, throwing both arms around his midriff in an attempt to stop him, though he managed to maintain his footing. He turned abruptly to scowl at her for trying to keep him from the palace, coming face to face with an innocent expression begging him for forgiveness and company at the same time. From the way she batted her eyelashes at him it was likely that this was all part of the plan to try and seduce him into following. She did not attempt to physically divert him by force a second time, however, as if she had learned her lesson the first time, though it gave Sitirus pause. Maybe she was not as intoxicated as he thought, reinforcing his suspicions of her, especially since she inquired, "Why can't you just put it off for once and have some fun like the rest of us? Gods know you could use a little time off. You'd be such a fool not to." Sitirus ignored her but could not shake the fact that the offer sounded appealing. Perhaps a break was warranted if he was to get back on his feet and become the warrior he was supposed to be. After all, a little rest and relaxation never hurt anyone, including warriors.

However, he reiterated, "Because I have things to do first," in response to her question. He did not say he would entertain the idea though, because he was not including this siren and did not want to give her any ideas. "There are plenty of people around Rosgard you can spend time with."

"There are," she agreed, "but none of them are as truly unique as you."

"Sorry to disappoint you," he apologized while disentangling himself from her again, "but I am nothing special. I am just a humble Legionnaire following orders, nothing more." He stepped back a couple paces to create distance between them, adding, "You would only diminish yourself."

The siren smiled as she challenged, "Will I?" while closing the gap in spite of his personal space. "I'm not afraid of lowering my standards. Why should you be? Your superiors won't mind."

"You do not know them like I do," Sitirus responded without offering names, partly due to the fact he had none to give but also because even if he had, he would not have openly shared them with her. "They are not the sort who fraternize with women such as yourself. They have standards."

"Just because they do doesn't mean you've got to," she countered, following him as he led the way now that he had given up on stopping, completely oblivious to his disinterest or purposely playing the fool. "Besides, this town's got all sorts of attractions for an Imperial Legionnaire such as yourself," she went on, listing each one on her fingers, "Food, drink, coin, gambling, pit fighting, a nice warm bed, comradery, and…" She paused to catch up to Sitirus' side so she could conclude in an alluring whisper, "love," for dramatic effect. It was, regrettably for her, lost on him, although the reaction of him flinching in response indicated she found an opening. The sickening odor from her alcoholic breath on his ear sent a chill down Sitirus' spine even while he regarded her with an indifference that came easily to him. Its smell must have been more intoxicating than before, since he could have sworn she somehow did it on purpose to mess with him for fun alongside the spoils she must have been looking for. This siren was something else, unlike any he encountered before.

Sitirus tensed as she wrapped her arms around his again like a wife clinging to her husband. At this point, he wanted to find a guard he could turn her over to. Better to let one with her the first chance he got than lose his patience and cause a scene. The sooner he could be rid of her, the better. Still, he responded by telling her, "I am sure it does," nicely, although he had put it bluntly to make her take the hint while once again detaching himself from her, "However, I really should be going," not wanting her to continue following him, behind or at his side, nor to answer whatever questions she might have, introduce himself to her, or acquiesce in general. She could find out on her own if she knew where to look. The rumor mill would tell her he arrived in imperial chain armor and just left the Census and Excise Office. She could reach her own conclusions from the facts that Sitirus hoped to dismiss in time. The less information he himself, the primary source, provided, the better.

"But you just got here!" she whined. "Don't leave me!"

"Sorry, but I must," Sitirus apologized again as he searched for a guard, before he suddenly felt her tongue on his ear and jerked away, stopping abruptly to confront her directly. She stumbled a couple steps but regained her balance thanks to holding onto his arm, which Sitirus tore from her in disgust once she righted herself. She smiled seductively in response to his glare, ignorant of his annoyance, as he demanded, "What was that!?" startling the citizens around them with his outburst.

"Just a little taste," she giggled mischievously as she offered her own to him. "Want one?"

"No," Sitirus flatly rejected her as he turned to resume without her, although she continued to tag along. Had it been made by somebody more innocent and without the lustful attraction, he might have considered taking them up on the offer but at a later time. Not now, when the letter had to be delivered. He groaned at the imposition of trying to get his attention and being very insistent about it, irritably asking himself where the guards were when he needed them. They were there to stop that brawl outside the Queen's Sailor. Why were there not more patrolling the streets? Surely the war had not taken too many from Rosgard? Or perhaps he just could not spot them through the crowds. As humiliating as being unable to handle a lone siren was, it was preferrable to him getting caught impersonating an Imperial Legionnaire; fortunately though, the letter would exonerate him. The embarrassment he could handle but losing that letter would cost him more than just a night in the local dungeons. He could not have this Breton or anyone else robbing him of the only thing he had to prove he was making a fresh start. Without it, he was finished. He would have been deported before he had even gone anywhere. His journey would have taken him right back to where it began.

"You sure?" she teased. "I think you'll love it!"

Sitirus knew he would not, demanding more firmly, "Please, I must ask that you step aside at once," in his best attempt at speaking with the authority of a Colovian Imperial. It was not going to work, unfortunately, because he still had to improve at it but also because telling her was futile.

As he thought, she returned a grin equal parts seductive and playful. "And if I refuse?" He glared, about to speak up when she took a few unsteady steps toward him and cried out from having tripped over her feet again. Sitirus made no attempt to catch her that time but neither got out of the way, allowing her to stumble into him against his better judgment once more so she would not fall again. He would not have considered it had she not been too close. She threw her arms around him on impact to steady herself, then looked up into his eyes with that bewitching grin of hers as thanks, although it appeared to convey more than just her gratitude. Sitirus got the impression that tripping that time was not due to the effects of alcohol nor an accident. It seemed like it was intentional, to keep him from getting away from her. His eyes were on her the whole time since she had kept him preoccupied with conversation, holding his attention away from her feet. She was trying to do the same for her arms, locking his eyes within hers, but Sitirus saw through her ruse that time to keep her from positioning them around his neck. As if she realized he was onto her, she went to disarm him by continuing, "What're you going to do, soldier boy? Arrest me for obstruction? Drag me to the dungeons where you can safely tuck me away under lock and key? Extradite me to all the way to your Imperial City as a spoil of war you can parade on the streets and present to your emperor?"

Sitirus eyed her as he responded evenly, saying, "That is not my call to make, ma'am."

She giggled while adding, "Of course it is, silly. You're an Imperial Legionnaire, the finest in the Empire," in an attempt to butter him up. "Why else would they send you here of all places?"

He stepped back to push her away again as he contemplated answering. This Breton woman was trying to provoke him to and it was working. Using his disguise as a Legionnaire against him enabled her to weave back and forth between uncertainty over whether she bought it, being either too drunk to tell or giving the impression she was. Soldiers were popular with these sorts of women wherever they went, which made it harder to discern her motives. She was good, he had to concede.

However, Sitirus needed to be careful with her, lest she lead him to an early grave with the promise of a reprieve from duty. To avoid answering, he tried Colovian Imperial speechcraft once more by saying, "Official business, now move along," with a little more force than previously. He knew it still had no effect on her, given her persistence, though at least he got in the practice. While not a lie per say, Sitirus was not actually fabricating a cover story just to get around her. Delivering the letter was just that: Official business. As long as it got him to the palace sooner or later, he had no problem using it as an excuse to justify his impatience and to get people to move out of his way. Saying it made him feel more like a true Legionnaire instead of a pretender masquerading as one.

She smiled teasingly as she inquired, "Oh, what kind?" much to his chagrin. Had she really seen through his disguise and was calling his bluff to trip him up, or was she genuinely curious in his excuse to define it? Her tone seemed to sound either way, though that in of itself reinforced the contrary. She walked the fine line between sincere ignorance and pretending not to notice only too well, like an acrobat playing atop a highwire for an audience. Only then did he realize his mistake. He should not have given her an opening to inquire while he was disguised. Who would ever pass up the chance for a chat with an Imperial Legionnaire from Cyrodiil? The stories one could tell of their service to the Empire would fascinate anyone, even critics of its regime, including those who took advantage of the current decline. Worse, what one would do and give for imperial intelligence, now that they had a way to its source? Tugging at but a loose thread would be all it took to unravel more than a web of intrigue anyone could follow at their leisure. All kinds of questions would soon be answered, leading to more inquiries directed at the heart of a bleeding Cyrodiil. One slip of the tongue could topple all that remained without warning by accident. The Empire would disintegrate.

Sitirus was fortunate he had none to share and had been able to keep up his disguise, though it would only take him so far. The cover story lack orders from the Empire and the Legion he could use to explain himself. That limited the extent of what he could and could not say and do in public. He could say he was sent to notify local rulers about the war's current progress in Valenwood and to deliver the tragic news of someone's passing to their loved ones. However, that required follow-up. They would expect him to pay respects in person, then return to Valenwood. Not only that, but an Imperial Legionnaire on duty needed leave to visit Hammerfell if he was assigned elsewhere in Cyrodiil or reassigned to the Imperial Province from the war. Other than taking a holiday, without a valid reason to go to the Redguard province, its authorities could deport him back to Cyrodiil for being absent without leave or deserting the Legion. Sitirus knew it would be easy to blow his cover from the beginning but he had never expected it would be this apparent. Clearly, he miscalculated.

As much as he did not want to, he had to applaud the siren and give her credit. She certainly knew how to wield a silver tongue in a battle of wits. He was not entirely sure she was even aware, assuming she was inebriated, but if she was, then luck had allowed her to point a blade at his throat.

Losing her was going to be a challenge. It seemed all he had to do was keep up the charade long enough to find a guard who could take her away if he could not get rid of her himself. Easier said than done, since the longer he lingered and the more she badgered him, the sooner she would catch on if she had not already. Although, as Sitirus racked his brain for any ideas, he realized she might have already had opportunities to expose him for a fraud. That told him she was keeping his secret for now but in exchange for what? It was a mystery to him, though he did not think he could afford to find out. As she already implied, he was no longer in Cyrodiil, where threatening someone with the law as an Imperial Legionnaire carried greater weight than in Hammerfell, particularly as one got closer to the Imperial City. It also might work in some parts of High Rock, specifically the places closest to Cyrodiil or with stronger ties to the Imperial Province, no matter how faded those ties were, but as a town in Hammerfell's Kingdom of Taneth, Rosgard was neither. The Lhotunics might have been allied to the Empire in the war, though it would not last long. Despite the alliance, some tension remained, and there were boundaries each other could not cross. Even so, Redguards had come to respect the Empire's authority and both its Imperial Legion and Navy from how they conducted themselves as allies, so Sitirus felt confident saying, "The kind that would get you into trouble with the law for obstructing an Imperial Legionnaire," in a curter tone to dissuade her from pressing further. "Now, move along, I am a busy man with things to do and should be on my way."

Without waiting for a response, he barged past the siren and hurried into the crowd around them. Sitirus pressed on, quickening his pace to create as much distance between them as possible before she could tell where he went. When he felt there were enough people behind him, he looked back to see if she was following but could not find her anywhere. That was a relief, although Sitirus did not breathe it just yet. The siren could have been asking someone if they saw him, so he needed to duck into the closest street he could find or, if unlucky, one of the alleys between buildings. He realized the chances of her spotting him remained in her favor and that he might be walking into a trap if that Redguard from before was still around. Nevertheless, he turned toward the closest street he could find that would continue taking him to the palace and walked down before halting midway to catch his breath and search for her and the Redguard. Just when he thought he lost her, he turned to move on when he suddenly felt a breath pass over his neck. He whirled, expecting the temptress or that Redguard, but found no one at first until he felt her familiar hand gently caressing his neck.

Interpreting it as intent to steal his mother's amulet of Dibella, Sitirus whirled around again to confront the siren, not wanting to take any chances. He abruptly shoved her off just as she nearly untied the amulet of Dibella from around his neck, backing away from her so he could readjust it. Some of the locals took offense at the alleged Imperial Legionnaire trying to ward her off, but once they got a good look at what he was doing and the siren's face, they gave her the same dirty looks as the people on that other street had. Waving them off, the siren could not help laughing drunkenly as she staggered, like she was amused by his rough treatment of her. She must have thought that it felt good if she was that kind of seductress. Sitirus noticed just then that although the Breton looked unsteady on her feet, she seemed to glide as if able to regulate her swaying. Perhaps she had some control over her faculties to pass for a clumsy seductress but he doubted it. Either she had been too inebriated to realize it was stupid to try and rob him out in the open, where everyone could notice, or brazen enough to push her luck. If he respected her, he just might have been impressed. Fooled even, if he was gullible enough to buy it. As he was neither, he simply glared as she righted herself and asked, "Miss me, soldier boy?" with a teasing smirk that got further under his skin than before.

Sitirus glowered as he responded, "No, I told you to step aside or move along," angrily.

"Why? What's so pressing that you've no time to spare?" she asked, closing in again even as Sitirus avoided her while looking into his eyes as if begging him to be her escort. "Do you even have any idea where you are? This is Hammerfell, sweetie." Her emphasis on the province's name sounded alluring, like she was trying to use that as a reason to go with her. "Your Empire's got no more power here anymore. Nobody'll give a damn about what you do now that you're on our turf."

Sitirus scowled as she stressed his isolation from Cyrodiil as if she was proud of it, although it was her admission that worried him more. The way she spoke made it sound like she was alluding to a criminal syndicate or a gang than the town of Rosgard. He recalled Horlka's warning regarding the Hammerfell Thieves Guild as he held his ground and appraised her for any signs that she could be one of them. Lust and greed typically drove seductresses like her to men. The same was true of thieves, especially those in the Thieves Guilds. Lust could not have driven this one to him though, during this time of the day when the clientele a seductress catered to would be at work or seeing a woman in the same business as her if they were not. Supposing she was a thief, the siren must have planned to lure him into a back alley where she could rob him or slit his throat, then loot his body, perhaps with the help of an accomplice or two like that Redguard. His knuckles tightened around the sacks he carried as he looked her squarely in the eyes and said, "You forget that we are at war," with as much emphasis as her, successfully imbuing his voice with the power of Colovian Imperial speechcraft that time. It had likely failed the first two times because it was a rarity for someone of Nibenese Imperial birth like himself, though it sounded like luck or Dibella herself had blessed his voice with the proper authority. Now that it was working in his favor, Sitirus quickly put it to good use by going on the offensive. "Hammerfell is our ally against the Thalmor and the Dominion they control. Your people, as I am sure you will recall, oppose them just as much as we do in Cyrodiil."

The siren's smirk widened as she asked, "Is it?" rhetorically while closing the gap between them. Her body swayed slightly as she staggered up to him to add in a lower voice, "Because from where I'm standing, Hammerfell's in as good a position to use your Empire as the Dominion was." She took his right arm in her left hand and reached her other hand up to his left cheek as she added, "Why else would its kingdoms agree to side with a regime on the verge of collapse? For old time's sake? Because Hammerfell used be one of its provinces?" She giggled as Sitirus squirmed against her touch, struggling to get away but failing since she kept invading his personal space every time he tried to step away and shove her back. "Tell me, soldier boy, who do you think's actually going to win this war, hm? Who'll actually collect all the spoils? The Stormcloaks? The Thalmor? High Rock? Cyrodiil? Your Empire? There's only one right answer and you know it, there's no denying it. All you've got to do is say it, acknowledge it. You already know as well as I do that, in this war, Hammerfell takes all, just as it's always done." She then leaned in to ask rather mockingly, "Don't you think that's a little unfair? I know I'd want a little something for my participation. Don't you?"

Sitirus opened his mouth to respond but found he had nothing to say. Although grateful his impression of a Colovian Imperial worked that time, he had not expected to succeed straight away or for her to retort with an argument like that. It was one he could not deny. Hammerfell had been positioned brilliantly among the participants on both sides of the Second Great War. The Lhotunics stood to gain more than their allies combined in the long term, and were more united than each of their neighbors. Ties to the Colovian Estates, particularly Chorrol and Sutch, enabled them to have influence in Cyrodiil and exploit the Empire's weaknesses for themselves. Maritime trade with the Breton kingdoms in the Iliac Bay ushered in a flow of coin and Breton goods produced, presenting an opportunity to help High Rock to gradually break away from the Empire. Although he was not as familiar with the Kingdoms of Dragonstar and Elinhir, Sitirus was aware of their shared history with the Nords of Skyrim since the War of the Bend'r-Mahk. As for the Aldmeri Dominion, Sitirus already heard that Hammerfell would claim much of Valenwood and that Alinor as a whole likely would as well. The siren's claim merely reinforced the notion that the Lhotunics were busy sowing the seeds of Hammerfell's rise to power, a future Tamriel seemed to hurtling toward at high speed.

As the continent converged on Hammerfell, centered around the Deathlands, Sitirus found it poignant that nobody could stop them or appeared interested enough to. The usurper High King, Ulfric Stormcloak, desired power and divinity for himself alone in his bid to conquer all of Tamriel for himself. His Stormcloaks were too blinded in their religious zealotry to even give a damn about anything that had absolutely nothing to do with their monotheistic worship of him. Western Skyrim had entered into another civil war with the kingdoms that supported his takeover in the Stormcloak Rebellion. The Empire was decomposing as the Colovian Estates and Breton kingdoms alike began exercising their authority, isolating Cyrodiil and High Rock from one another while splitting apart. Dunmeri Nibenay had overtaken Nibenese Imperial culture, which retained some power but could not reclaim prominence. Morrowind and Argonia were not neighboring provinces, so neither could do much and were preoccupied with their animosity toward one another. Argonia in particular had even been consolidating its spoils in Anequina while approaching a similar invasion of Pelletine's kingdoms. The Thalmor were losing the Second Great War and their Dominion would soon be no more, which would leave their provinces helpless and ensnared by Lhotunic control of their lands. Sitirus could not even think of a single force or person who might rise to the occasion against them.

Even he, a measly apprentice warrior, was powerless against the might of a whole province. He was not some preordained hero fighting for the sake of an empire in decline, nor one who could take up arms and inspire a revolution. He could not even lead a riot or a revolt. He was just a young man leaving said empire after completing an apprenticeship as an aspiring warrior. But then again, maybe aspiring was not the right word when he had nothing to aspire to. What warrior would have willingly given up their bright future for a meager existence long before they were given a chance?

He watched as the siren's smirk widened further, looking more like a witch's wicked grin. It spooked him, though Sitirus was able to suppress a shudder, saying, "That is not your concern," with a glower to deny her the satisfaction of making him doubt himself again. If he had the chance to stop her from getting away with it, he would, but as he had business elsewhere, he simply pushed her aside and warned, "I shall not repeat myself. Stand aside or I shall report you to the guard and you can explain to them your reasoning for obstructing an Imperial Legionnaire," jabbing a pointed finger at her to then hiss, "Do not test me. I am not in the mood for your games anymore, harlot."

Her smirk did not fade. She simply giggled as she continued swaying unsteadily on her feet while trying to lean against him for balance. "Why not?" she asked, although Sitirus could not tell if she wondered if he would follow through on his warning or do something else instead. "It's not like your Empire's going to care one way or the other. Why would they?" She flashed her teeth at him, whereupon Sitirus noticed that they were pretty grimy and unhygienic, as she said derisively, "Hammerfell doesn't answer to them anymore. Besides, you've already gone and deserted, haven't you?" in a hushed whisper meant only for him. Sitirus' eyes widened in shock at how she was able to successfully parry his poor attempt to block her with intimidation. The siren's smirk then turned into a wicked grin quite literally as she closed in. "Should've enlisted for Valenwood, soldier boy."

Sitirus grimaced as her accusation got under his skin, feeling a mixture of equal parts dread and anger. On the one hand, its accuracy disturbed him to no end with its intimacy. He feared this Breton seductress must have known more about him than she let on, as if she had been aware of it all along. Had she been spying on him since his arrival in the harbor not that long ago? Was she a spy on his father's payroll? Agents could play their roles with perfection and Sitirus would be none the wiser since she did not look the part and had given the impression of being the kind of woman found in a corner club or bunkhouse who got men into bed with them. Alternatively, she may have been short on drakes and thought a little petty thievery could net her some this early in the morning. Sitirus was having some trouble buying that though, because if she did get him to sleep with her it would have given her the opportunity to steal from him while he slept or slaughter him in his sleep. Even if she was not an agent of his father's, the thought of her being a thief or killer was worrying.

On the other, it was quite upsetting that she was able to hit so close to home. What did she know about desertion? How dare she reproach him for something that was not her business? Anger gave in to despair, sadly, because even though Sitirus wanted to believe he had not abandoned his family and friends in the Gold Coast…he did. He left the people who cared about him behind, left them to struggle and even rot in a crumbling empire while he got to gallivant about in Hammerfell. A lot of them were unaware of his departure. What would they have thought of his running away?

Maybe the siren was right…he had deserted his home for a place that would give no quarter save the allowance to grow into a warrior. He would be strong…but he would be alone and isolated from the comforts of home and escapism, with nobody there for him. Just his past reflection staring back at him in the mirror and from the water's surface, which kept pulling him back in like a tether.

The weight of it all crashing down was too much to bear as he barged past the siren without even addressing the accusation. It felt like the entire continent had collapsed in on itself right then, directly on top of him. Encumbered by the burden, Sitirus closed himself off from the world around him in a desperate bid to shut it out. He did not want to hear their chatter or see their lives walk by before him. All Sitirus wanted to do was head for the palace and deliver his letter to Captain Dranto without further hassle…right? Would it have been better to just charter another ship back to Anvil or return by foot if he had to? He could try to face his father. Dealing with Luthiele—no, submitting to Luthiele—would have been much easier than going toe to toe against a siren in a battle of wits. A siren who followed hot on his tail down the street, quietly ridiculing him with the words spewing from a state of mind that sounded intoxicated and conniving simultaneously. Sitirus did not know what the slander and lies she pelted him with were now, just that he wanted to get away from her…

…And that a sudden touch of metal against the back of his neck was threatening to cut him open from behind without even giving him the chance to defend himself from his assailant, whose dishonor knew no bounds. Something took control of his body just then, using it to violently slam his attacker in the face with his elbow. The strike snapped Sitirus out of his subconscious, forcing him to breathe deeply as he confronted the reality surrounding him. The siren tripped over her feet and fell on her behind again after taking an unexpected blow to the nose, losing her grip on a blade she had been holding as it clattered to the ground. Passerby instantly took notice, reacting to what they perceived as the abuse of a woman by an Imperial Legionnaire with equal parts shock, horror, and anger. Several began to approach but stopped when they saw her dagger resting carelessly by her side and an amulet she appeared to have cut from the Legionnaire's neck when he had not been looking. At once, a Redguard man spat at her feet and hissed, "Thief!" starting an echo throughout the street as more and more people arrived to get a good look at her face and confirm her identity.

For his part, Sitirus stood by in a confused daze that broke when someone grabbed his arm. He turned to find it was a town guard, a Redguard who asked, "You okay, there, Legionnaire?" as he placed the confiscated jewel in Sitirus' hand. "Here, I believe this belongs to you?" Sitirus had not been paying attention to the question at first since he was too worried about the siren escaping. He scanned the area for her until he found her pinned against the wall of a house by another guard, a Nord from the look of it. "You're lucky we were here in time to retrieve it for you," the Redguard guard explained as they watched her sling Bretic curses at the Nord while struggling to free herself from his grasp. "Had this woman run off with it, you'd have never seen it again." He placed a hand on Sitirus' shoulder to turn the young man toward him as he added, "You should keep a better eye on your things around here. This town's no stranger to thieves. Didn't the Legion teach you that?"

"I-I see…" Sitirus murmured, then apologized, "Sorry, I guess I let her get to me just then," while examining the amulet to confirm it was his mother's. He sighed in relief, glad to have it back from her, then said, "Thank you…" to express his gratitude not just to the guards. The Goddess of Love and Beauty must have interceded on his behalf when the siren tried to steal it, although Sitirus took it more as Dibella chastising him for not realizing he nearly lost it to her. Aside from the strap she cut which could be replaced with a much sturdier cord, there was not even a scratch or a speck of dirt on the jewel. It was completely undamaged by the siren's dagger and the impact it made on the ground when she fell. Sitirus had to smile at his good fortune, although that there nothing more beautiful than the Queen of Heaven's divine intervention proving her existence to the mortal plane.

Now that he had it back, Sitirus felt refreshed, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, restoring his stamina to what it once was. He somehow felt affable, like Dibella blessed him with a gift of personality and speechcraft. It made him want to look up at everyone and thank the crowd collectively for their help, although they had already dispersed by now, leaving just him and the two guards there with the siren. Nevertheless, he appreciated the sudden rescue saving him from desperation by lifting his body out of the pits of despair, praying to Dibella that she personally bless Rosgard's people and their defenders with fortune and her favor. It was the least he could do.

Save the siren for trying to steal from him and resisting the bear of a man arresting her for attempted theft. Sitirus resisted the urge to grin at her misfortune, fearing it would offset Dibella's blessing and the siren's arrest. The thieving seductress shouted, "By Oblivion, get your filthy hands off of me, you Stormcloak!" only for the Nord to turn her around and swat the side of her face with a sharp backhand, knocking her to the ground again. He then kneeled to hold her down against the ground, applying as much pressure as he could while she yelled, "I was only trying to comfort him by loosening that amulet! It was suffocating him! I would've retied it for him so it wasn't as tight!"

"Yeah, sure you would've," the Nord did not believe her, keeping her from struggling.

She tried to turn her head so she could spit defiantly in his face. "Don't you have anything better to do than stop a girl from offering an Imperial Legionnaire the time of his life?! It's his first time in Rosgard and I wanted to make it special for him!" When he pressed her head to the ground, she hissed angrily, "Damn Stormcloak, how about we bury you under your own fat weight and see how you like it, huh?!" before receiving a second backhand to the back of the head, drawing blood.

"How about I drag your sorry ass to Valenwood?!" the Nord retorted, taking offense to the slanderous insult. "Then we'll see how many Stormcloaks it'll take to bury your sorry ass, wretch!"

Sitirus and the Redguard traded looks with the Nord as she went back to cursing in Bretic, each pondering the question between them before Sitirus cleared his throat to get her attention and stepped forward to kneel beside the two. The tables had turned, although he could not conclusively say she was a thief. That did not mean his suspicions were not wholly unfounded, nor his own for that matter given how people reacted so negatively to her prior. They had not called her one until they noticed her attempt to steal his mother's amulet of Dibella. If she was, it might have been her first attempt as a novice. Either that or she was not a very good thief considering she tried to steal from him in broad daylight while under the influence, surrounded by law abiding citizens. Maybe she was just a poor lass down on her luck, trying her best to make a living by offering her body to a clientele and total strangers she could try to rob for more coin. Just because she was a seductress did not necessarily mean she was a robber, but she still had to face the consequences of her actions.

He was reminded just then of a story from Anvil about a similar crime committed by a trio of sirens who lured men to Gweden Farm and its outskirts, where they could rob them blind without fear of getting caught by the guard. As he recalled, the victims were all apparently too flustered to report the crime. A pair of undercover guards assigned to the case managed to produce an opening they could use to bust the gang, but they needed an outside party to get involved. Fortunately, that person happened to be the Champion of Cyrodiil himself, who quickly dispatched the trio and took Witsplinter, an enchanted elven dagger, the design of which was far unlike any other elven dagger forged in Cyrodiil, the sirens' leader wielded, for himself, thus putting an end to the sirens' crimes.

The parallel to his predicament was what made Sitirus think of it. It had also driven him to pick up her dagger and examine it. He found it was only an ordinary steel dagger, though deduced it was of Redguard design from how the blade curved near the end. Perfect for somebody who had to hold someone at knifepoint from behind without exposing the hand wielding it to their victim's savior. The leather hilt was worn but the blade itself had been recently sharpened, indicating it saw constant use and implying that the siren had seen a blacksmith for it or knew how to do it herself.

When he looked at her, Sitirus spotted something about her he missed in his prior appraisal that caught his attention. He motioned for the Nord to move over so he could pat her down in that area, making the siren yelp in surprise. She turned her head to face him as she yelled, "I may have offered you a little something, but do you have to be so rude about it?! I'm still a lady, you know?!"

"Heh, some lady you are," the Nord chuckled in spite of her. "Rude of you to pester a man of the Empire and try to steal from him." He turned to Sitirus and asked, "Find anything, soldier?"

Sitirus nodded to him, then said to the siren, "Sorry," without meaning it, "force of habit."

"'Force of habit' my ass!" she retorted. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is?!"

"For a thief in your line of work?" the Nord chuckled. "Yeah, how humiliating."

Sitirus cleared his throat to stop him, receiving a half apologetic look from the Nord while directing his attention to her. "I am afraid I do not but this is what I want an answer for," he replied, holding up the dagger for her. "I presume this is your dagger, the one that you just used to, in your words, loosen the amulet suffocating me?" He glanced at the Nord. "Those were her words, right?"

The Nord nodded as he confirmed, "Yep, sure were," then turned to her. "Is it yours?"

"Yeah, of course it is," she rudely confirmed. "What's it to you, anyway?"

"So, you admit to using it to cut the strap of my amulet?" Sitirus demanded.

"Of course I did!" she confessed, not knowing it was an admission of guilt. "I said I was!"

"You told me?" Sitirus asked, trading looks with the guards, uncertain if it was the truth.

"Yes, I did!" she groaned in exhaustion. "Why wouldn't I?! You were having trouble trying to breathe with that thing around your neck!" She squirmed and asked, "Why don't you trust me?!"

Sitirus answered by saying, "Because I cannot afford to, especially because you are giving me cause to question your intent." He observed as she tilted her head, befuddled by the accusation, then he clarified by directing her attention and the guards to a rather inconspicuous hilt hidden in her skirt, near her side. "Care to explain why that is being kept out of plain sight on a busy street?"

"Oh, this?" she asked with an inebriated chuckle as she tried to explain herself on the spot, nervously looking back and forth between them while coming up with one. "It's for self-defense."

"And this one is not?" Sitirus pressed, referring to the dagger in his hand.

"It is," she replied. "Some of my clients get a little too rough for my liking, and sometimes I've got to remind them my services aren't cheap. You won't believe how many refuse to pay up."

"As a matter of fact, I can," Sitirus retorted, "which is why I will not be one of your clients. Who knows how often you might desire a little something extra, let alone all of their belongings?"

"Oh, come on, I'm not that greedy, soldier boy," she chuckled again rather unconvincingly.

Sitirus tilted his head and retorted, "I beg to differ," easily seeing through her lie. Now that he used her words against her and found evidence to validate his suspicions, it was time to accuse her of wrongdoing. He flipped the dagger in his hand to shove the hilt in her face without fear that she could suddenly break free and snatch it from him. She would not have been able to cut through his armor or even slice his gauntlet anyway. "You are a vixen who offers her body in exchange for coin but walks away with far more than you seek. You claim these," he shook the one he held and pointed to her concealed weapon with it, "are for self-defense but admit to using them for personal gain too. You also did not deny the accusation that you are a thief, choosing to offer an excuse that mitigates it without having to say otherwise. That does not disprove it; it does, however, imply the accusation has merit and that there is at least some truth to it." Sitirus brought the dagger away and then removed the concealed weapon with his free hand, revealing another steel dagger with a much straighter blade. He turned to present the confiscated daggers to the other guard as evidence, before turning back to a glare as sharp from the siren, asking, "Do you dispute this?" to give her a chance.

"Not particularly, stranger," she answered with a laugh. "But I'd be inclined to if you were to escort me to the nearest barracks where we could…" she smirked drunkenly, "straighten it out."

Sitirus scowled, unamused by the advance made despite his interrogation of her and in spite of him. Then again, perhaps she failed to notice because of how inebriated she was despite the fact he had proven she must not have been to try and steal from him. He was right to be wary, because as intoxicated as she was, the siren could be much deadlier than at first glance. Just how many men had she lured into her arms with the promise of providing them with a reprieve? How many wives and betrotheds confronted her for interfering in their relationships? How often did she claim more than her fair share? Had she spilled blood in her endeavors and if so, just how much of it had been in pursuit of their riches and to keep them quiet so the guards would not arrest her? A woman such as her was more than capable of defending herself from those who got in her way and getting away if things did not go her way. Although he and the guards had her in custody, from what he gathered, she remained in control of the situation and not only knew it but could take care of it however she pleased at her discretion and to her benefit. There had to be a way to knock this siren down a peg.

Arresting her based on what they had did not seem to be enough. However…

"Let her go," Sitirus found himself saying to the guards just as he was formulating a plan.

"What?" the Nord exclaimed in shock as he and the Redguard looked at him in surprise.

"Now wait just a minute!" the Redguard exclaimed. "Are you asking us to release her?!"

"Yes," Sitirus put it bluntly, considering how he was going to explain this to them.

"You can't be serious!" the Redguard protested. "We just caught her on your behalf!"

"And I appreciate it," Sitirus responded as he stood up and turned to face him. "But—"

"Doesn't sound like you do," the Redguard accused.

"I have good reason to request you do," Sitirus argued calmly.

"But not the authority!" the Redguard rebuked him.

"No," Sitirus shook his head in agreement, "I do not."

"Then why defend her?!" the Nord demanded, not letting go of the siren for even a second. "This woman just tried to steal that amulet of yours and run off with it. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Why should it?" the Redguard asked of his companion. "He's from the Empire, idiot. He could care less what happens here in our town as long as it's not happening back home in Cyrodiil!"

"Actually, I do not care what happens to Cyrodiil," Sitirus half-lied to make them listen so he could explain himself, though his admission did not pertain to Anvil and the Kingdom of Sutch.

Baffled, the Redguard turned to him. "Excuse me?"

"Did anyone actually see her try and commit theft?" Sitirus explained his logic, looking to both of them for an answer. "Has anyone else heard her say she was loosening my amulet because of how tight it was?" He watched them trade looks again for about a minute until the Nord shrugged at the Redguard. "Both of you have taken statements from the witnesses before they left, correct?"

"We did," the Redguard answered. "The general consensus is that she was seen cutting the amulet off before you knocked her to the ground, although nobody heard her say anything to you."

"I see," Sitirus nodded while examining the amulet of Dibella. "It is just as I thought."

"What is?" the Redguard demanded in disbelief over the victim defending his assailant.

Sitirus indicated the daggers he had given him, saying, "Both of those daggers are the only physical evidence against her, although this alone does not prove her guilt. Her testimony, although damning in of itself for confirming she used one to cut this amulet," he held the amulet of Dibella out to present it, "from my neck, is her word against mine, and I assume the witness statements as well since nobody heard her say why." Sitirus set the sacks down so he could take off the pack and put the amulet inside while adding, "I had been lost in thought when she attempted to, and reacted as if I was being attacked from behind. One, her included, could even say I overreacted." With the amulet safely tucked away, he approached the siren to point out her behavior, saying, "As you can see, this woman is also intoxicated, which means she can say anything incriminating without fully understanding what exactly she is admitting to. She may not appear inebriated or act like it though, but who is to say she is not?" He turned back to the Redguard as he went on, "Now, I know Rosgard falls out of the Empire's jurisdiction, and I am unfamiliar with Hammerfell's laws, including those of the Kingdom of Taneth and Rosgard specifically. However, I do know that were this brought to court, the prosecution would fail to establish the fact that a crime was committed. The judge would soon dismiss the case on the grounds that the situation amounts to circumstantial evidence at best."

"But she's a thief!" the Nord protested as she squirmed in his grasp with a victorious smirk.

"If she is, she has, unfortunately, not proven it at this time," Sitirus admitted reluctantly as he gave her a look of disapproval. "Until then, she is merely a seductress getting a kick out of this. She has yet to do greater wrong. We may not like it because we do not approve of how she makes a living, though we cannot hold that against her in court." He then turned to the Redguard, adding, "Besides, as a Legionnaire, I am more worried about how this could affect the war in Valenwood."

"Of course you would," the Redguard sneered. "Tsk, typical Imperial Legionnaire."

Sitirus ignored the snide comment as he went on, "At a minimum, I could be brought before a tribune and court martialed for my overreaction resulting in a civilian casualty in an allied land."

"Oh, woe to the Legionnaire for getting court martialed," the Redguard derided him again.

Sitirus turned to him that time and said, "I would think a man of your station should worry just as much as I do. Who knows what might happen if the baron hears of this? He would be within his rights to call out the Empire and the Imperial Legion for my misconduct and rally the kingdom to his defense, forcing the King of Taneth and the High King of Hammerfell both to make a rather difficult decision." He approached the Redguard, holding up both hands as he elaborated, "Accuse the Empire and the Imperial Legion for a crime that may be committed treason against the alliance, thereby angering the baron, as well as the King of Taneth if the High King rules otherwise; or rule in his favor by upholding the law in Hammerfell, holding me accountable as the perpetrator and a symbol of Redguard anger against the Empire." Sitirus then lowered his hands to hold them behind his back while asking, "Tell me, which do you think would impact the war? How might either one help both sides against the Thalmor and the Dominion? When do you believe we should find out?"

The Redguard opened his mouth to reply but squirmed under pressure when he could not.

Taking the loud silence as his answer, Sitirus said, "If I am to be reprimanded, my superior officers can court martial me after this war comes to an end in our favor because I, for one, do not want to find out now. If you do not want to give the Thalmor even the remotest chance at winning, I suggest keeping your comments to yourself and avoiding any repercussions that might harm our chances. Otherwise, when the Thalmor find out, they will find a way they could use it against us."

Realizing he could not argue with that, the Redguard finally admitted defeat while sagging his shoulders. "Fine, have it your way. I don't like it either but I'd rather not let the Thalmor win."

"You sure this'll give them an edge against the alliance?" the Nord remained uncertain but was not as sharp in his critique. "One measly crime away from the war won't turn the tide against us. They're already taking a beating in Valenwood and have already lost Elsweyr to Black Marsh."

"They are," Sitirus agreed on that point, though advised, "but we would be better safe than sorry. One can never be too careful when dealing with the kind of danger the Thalmor pose to us."

The Nord inclined his head in thought as he said, "I suppose," then threw a hard look at the siren when she opened her mouth to interrupt, shutting her up before she could get a word out. He then turned back to his comrade and Sitirus to suggest, "But shouldn't we take this to the captain?"

Sitirus exchanged looks with the Redguard, then inclined his head and cupped a hand over his chin in thought. "I suppose we could," he deliberated retracting the decision to release the siren, noticing how she reacted to the argument with dismay. "This is Rosgard, and I had said it falls out of the Empire's jurisdiction. I do not have the authority to authorize her release, nor enforce it, but you, the town guard do," he concluded, then looked at the Redguard, "under your captain's orders." Since the Redguard did not follow where he was going with that line of thinking, Sitirus elaborated, "Although, that being said, I still doubt a court would buy it," while pointing to the daggers again. "These daggers by themselves are not evidence." He then motioned toward the siren while adding, "Her testimony amounts to hearsay which she may stand by, unless her intoxication makes her say otherwise. The most I imagine a judge would do is admonish her for that and causing a scene, the latter of which I am to blame for as well. As a Legionnaire, it was my responsibility to pay attention to my surroundings and the people around me and I failed to take both of those things into account when I reacted. If my superiors were here, they would undoubtedly hold me responsible, and I am sure a town guard of high rank such as Captain Dranto would as well." Sitirus paused so the guards could understand, though he turned to face the siren when she failed to stifle a gasp. Her eyes then widened somewhat as she realized he was onto her but as the Nord kept her pinned to the ground, she could not stop Sitirus from walking over to add, "As a matter of fact, I just so happen to be on my way to meet with him at the palace," watching her go pale. "Shall I inform the good captain of our little 'tryst?' I am certain he would want a piece of the action for himself, if you do not mind?"

The guards burst out laughing as she swallowed heavily, gulping out a hesitant, "N-no, I-I do mind," at the thought of Captain Dranto getting involved. "I-I wouldn't want to t-trouble him."

"Oh, it'll be no trouble at all, little lady," the Nord laughed, not meaning to interrupt.

"Are you sure?" Sitirus checked. "I can inform him of your testimony if you want. Can you please repeat it for me one more time? I want to be certain of the details when I recount it for him."

"T-that won't be necessary," the siren nervously insisted, looking from him to the Nord.

"Then do you wish to accompany me," Sitirus asked, "so that we could straighten it out?"

She vehemently shook her head, quickly replying, "I-I do not."

Sitirus tilted his head as he said, "But you just offered to. Have you changed your mind?"

"Y-yes!" the siren blurted before realizing her mistake. "I-I mean, I-I must pass, I-I've got other things to do, you see. I-I'm afraid I-I don't have to visit the palace with you right now, b-but if you want, I-I can meet you at the Queen's Sailor later tonight where we can discuss it, perhaps?"

Sitirus had to keep himself from smirking at her cowardice. He had just caught her making a failed attempt to escape from her lie and found the discovery and the feeling of accomplishment that came with it amusing. Although he wanted to keep it to himself, mentioning Captain Dranto's name helped elicit the reaction he was looking for. He refrained from saying why though, because the captain's name was more than enough to trap her. With no way out, all she could do was admit her guilt or back up and hope he would be merciful enough to free her. Now that he had this woman right where he wanted her, he declined, saying, "I too must pass. I have better things to do than to satisfy a siren's demands," no longer worried that it appeared like he was throwing dirt on her for being a seductress. Having had enough of her for one day, he turned to walk away, adding, "Your intoxication will not make me take pity on you anymore, nor will it make me cater to your whims. If you still want drakes when you get out, I suggest you find somebody else who will or earn your keep with dignity, since I am not ever going to waste even a single one of mine on you no matter how many times you beg. This is Rosgard, after all; I am certain you will find a way to eventually."

The siren glared as the Nord lifted her up, unamused by his ability to outwit her. However, while the Redguard approached to tie her hands behind her back with rope, she figuratively spit in Sitirus' face by laughing, as if tipsily delighted. "Do you really think I'm that strapped for drakes?"

Sitirus gave her a hard look as he replied, "Given your attire and the fact you use it to hide not one but two daggers, yes," although in truth he did not know how many drakes she had on her. He had not seen a coin purse strapped to her side nor the bulges of any in her pockets during their interaction, and he was uncertain if she had a bank account in this kingdom. "But do I believe you are a thief?" He shrugged while giving an answer to his own rhetorical question, "Frankly, it beats me," before his voice went cold with ire, "although I do not want to find out by paying for a service I do not need only for you to stab me in the back with whatever else you may have up your sleeves. I am doing you a favor by showing you mercy in letting this town's guards arrest you, but I do not want to see you come within so much as ten to a hundred paces of me; or else trying to obstruct an Imperial Legionnaire will be the last crime you ever commit!" He then turned to the Nord, saying, "Take her away!" as if commanding an officer of a lower rank, making him feel more like a soldier.

"Hmph…fine," she retorted as the Nord dragged her away, then snipped, "Imperial swine."

Sitirus ignored the insult but returned a question of his own, "Before you go," as the guard paused so he could address the siren one last time, "tell me, does accosting an Imperial Legionnaire from Cyrodiil amuse you?" The question was more food for thought, so he did not expect a reply.

However, the siren threw a look over her shoulder, smirking snidely as she responded with a drunken, "I don't know, you tell me," and a rather snarky chuckle. "But if you ever change your mind, soldier boy, you know where to find me." Her smirk turned into a wicked grin as she added, "If I'm not there though, I'm certain you'll figure out where to find me. I'm a regular in this town." With that, the Nord yanked her along, ordering her to keep her mouth shut and eyes forward while threatening to put her in chains if she tried to get away again or so much as step out of line, leaving his comrade and Sitirus to watch them vanish into the crowded street, though they were still visible.

Sitirus finally sighed in relief now that she was gone, then turned toward the other man to say, "Well, that was ominous," on her parting words, thinking he one day see that seductress again.

"I'll say," the guard agreed, although added reassuringly, "but I wouldn't worry. She won't be bothering you for quite some time. We'll make sure she stays behind bars long enough to think twice about trying to steal from an Imperial Legionnaire. That crime alone will guarantee a month or two at a minimum, unless the judge rules for more. Additional crimes will add to her sentence."

"Just a month or two?" Sitirus questioned. "Forgive me, but that length sounds rather lax."

"It is the most the King of Taneth was willing to allow," the guard explained, "for the sake of the alliance. Just because Hammerfell sided with the Empire doesn't mean everybody's in favor. Not all of the Lhotunics are as keen on the idea of rekindling relations with your people. Our king is one of them, and with good reason, given the Empire's decision to abandon us in the first war."

Sitirus inclined his head sympathetically, saying, "I do not blame him for that view. I would be just as wary," choosing to keep his father's disapproval being the reason for his exile to himself.

The guard blinked, though returned an appreciative smile. "Didn't think you'd be the type to understand. Then again, wasn't expecting you to throw us for quite a loop like that one though."

"Sorry about that," Sitirus apologized with a slight incline of his head, before he explained, "I realized she would not have come clean if pressed, so I had to offer a tantalizing incentive with a warning attached. You saw how she hesitated while taking the bait?" As the Redguard answered with a nod, he went on, saying, "If she was at all confident standing by her testimony and the lack of evidence, she would not have dithered when we brought your captain up. She simply could not risk a confrontation with him even though she herself had offered to accompany me to the nearest barracks." Sitirus shook his head while adding, "She knew her testimony would not stick and that it would be used against her." He then turned to look down the street after them, watching the Nord guard take her around a corner several streets down. "Then again, her offer might have been a joke brought on by her intoxication, although I personally doubted she was or had even been under that much to begin with. Still, what would have been the harm in taking it up a notch? I had nothing to gain from taking the risk nor nothing to lose at the same time." He turned back to the guard while concluding, "She, however, did. If she wanted to set the record straight, she would have followed through to demonstrate her commitment. All she had to do was react different than how she really behaved in order to do me in. That single mistake cost her dearly and she wound up paying for it."

"That it has," said the guard, bobbing his head in further agreement. He turned to look back in her direction, adding, "She'll have to look over her shoulder more often and consider her actions carefully," before turning to Sitirus. "Now that we've got something on her for our report, you can be sure that we'll be keeping an eye out for her schemes if she pulls something like this ever again."

"I appreciate it," said Sitirus, "although I doubt she may be the only one."

"She isn't," the guard confirmed. "There're plenty of her kind around Rosgard who pretend to fall for a pretty face like yours." That last part elicited a chuckle from Sitirus as he added, "But they're no different than her. They want your drakes as much as they want some time with yours."

"I was thinking of a man, actually," Sitirus clarified, prompting a bemused expression from the guard. Aware that it was not the best opening statement, he quickly elaborated, "When she first intercepted me, I noticed a suspicious Redguard watching us from afar. He appeared to be trailing us for a bit but went into an alley when my eyes met his just after she had fallen on another street." While he should have been careful accusing another Redguard in front of a guard of the same race, Sitirus felt it was more dangerous dancing around the issue than being upfront. If he had kept it to himself, and maybe argued that he did so as not to disrespect the Redguard people, this one might think he was being insensitive anyway at least or covering for the suspect at worst. It was better to be upfront about it than look guilty for having withheld information, even if it seemed prejudicial.

Fortunately, the guard did not seem to mind, instead asking, "You get a good look at him?"

"I am afraid not," Sitirus answered honestly. "The street was too crowded for me to discern anything other than his race. I apologize for how racist that sounds but it was the only detail I was able to notice, and I am aware that my testimony can be misconstrued to make it sound as if I am. Had I a clear sight of him, I might have found that he was not suspicious and would have said so."

"Ah, don't mention it," the guard dismissed his apology, unbothered by Sitirus' accusation. "There's just as many Redguard thieves and cutthroats in Hammerfell as there are among Imperials in Cyrodiil." He then cleared his throat to add, "And in Hammerfell too, I should add. No offense."

Sitirus offered a forgiving smile. "None taken."

"If you ask me," the guard went on, "I'd say that guy might've been a client of hers, maybe even a suitor. How'd he look when he saw you with her? Did he approach or stand by to observe?"

"As I said, he was watching from afar," Sitirus reiterated, then inclined his head in thought. As he recalled what happened, he remembered, "He glared when we locked eyes moments before he disappeared into that alleyway. That was after she stumbled and fell while attempting to divert me. Her hood had also fallen back just then." He looked up at the guard to add, "I cannot tell if he thought I was to blame or if he was an accomplice whose window of opportunity shut the moment our eyes met. Although, he could have known that I had spotted him prior but chose to stand back. I do not want to say that he was a thief without solid evidence, but that was one of my suspicions."

"I see…" the guard nodded as he considered Sitirus' testimony, crossing his arms while he reflected on the situation he and his comrade helped end. "Remember I said Rosgard's no stranger to thieves?" he then asked, to which Sitirus nodded. "Could be that he's part of the Thieves Guild."

"The Thieves Guild?" Sitirus parroted, again reminded of Horlka's warning. First the siren giving him the implication, and now one of the town guards confirming it. "They are in Rosgard?"

"Mm," the guard confirmed with a nod. "Been here for centuries. They've got hideouts all over the kingdom where they can deal in stolen goods and coordinate black markets and smuggling operations from. Word is that one can be found in Rosgard but we haven't come across it yet. Not a day goes by without them being accused whenever something goes missing." He paused to scan the street for signs of disturbances he could look into or to try and prove his point but found none. Continuing his examination, he added, "Thing is, they haven't actually been as active around town as of late. I don't know if it's the war that has somehow driven them away or what, but it's not like the guild to just up and leave Rosgard, you know? I mean, it'll likely be easier down in Valenwood, where the law won't breathe down their necks thanks to the alliance sweeping through. Several of the Leafwinds and Wood Elf refugees in town have been saying that it'll help the Silver Crescents, their homeland's Thieves Guild, which isn't a good thing cause we don't want them dealing here."

Nor did Sitirus given that he would be staying in Rosgard for some time, although he said, "Indeed," in agreement. "I certainly would not want them having a foothold in Cyrodiil." He then remarked when the guard turned back to him, "It does sound strange when you put it that way. The war has taken many able bodied fighters away, so I would imagine that it left Rosgard vulnerable."

"It has," the guard confirmed but said, "though not to the guild, it seems." As Sitirus looked puzzled, he elaborated, saying, "These days, we've been catching Wood Elf refugees red-handed."

"The Bosmer?" Sitirus inquired. "You mean those Silver Crescents are already in town?" Fearing the consequences, he then asked, "Have the Thalmor already broken into the home front?"

The guard shrugged, sounding uncertain as he answered, "Don't know for sure. We haven't found evidence fingering one or the other, though people seem to think they are. Could be that the Thieves Guild here is hiding behind the war by getting the Wood Elves to commit their crimes for them. Makes stoking fear of the Thalmor and the Silver Crescents easier, but using them as a shield only draws more attention. Why pretend when it'll only alert us each time a Wood Elf is fingered?"

Sitirus tilted his head in thought as he considered the idea. "That does not make any sense, now that you mention it," he agreed before suggesting, "Or perhaps the Bosmer are the ones hiding behind the guild. You did say the guild was not as active as of late. Tell me, when had this started?"

"Not long after they first came to town," the guard explained while cupping a hand around his chin in recollection. "That was when our armies invaded Valenwood and starting winning battle after battle. The Leafwinds haven't said the Silver Crescents were behind the thefts at first, though a few do claim the recent surge in Wood Elf thieves across Rosgard as of late imply they might've arrived with the recent refugees or that some were already here planning for the rest to arrive. What I don't get is why the Thieves Guild aren't working around their usual joints. We've arrested plenty of their locals and busted some of their hidden rooms across Rosgard enough times to know who's who. Well, for most of them, anyway. We just haven't seen their faces on the streets around town as of late. It's like they've just packed up and fled Rosgard while the Wood Elves took their place."

"Are there any members you know of who still are?" Sitirus asked.

"You asking about that Redguard?" the guard asked, to which Sitirus nodded. He shrugged again but said, "Maybe. If you got a better look at the guy, I might know who he is or some of the other guards would. The only thieves I know of who're still in Rosgard are those we've got behind bars. I think a couple of them are up for parole soon, so we'll trail them for a bit after to see where they go. Who knows? They might stay for some time or decide it's time to hightail it out of here."

"Well, at least having the local guild around is one less thing to worry about," said Sitirus. "Although if these Silver Crescents are causing too much trouble, I would suggest getting in touch with the baron or the king. Rosgard could use aid to look into them and their ties to the Thalmor."

The guard nodded in agreement, saying, "That it could. Speaking of, when you interrogated that thief, you claimed you'd be meeting with Captain Dranto." While Sitirus bobbed his head, he asked, "Is it true or was that just to scare her? If you're really heading to the palace, you can offer."

"I could," Sitirus admitted, "although I cannot actually guarantee it. I am but a messenger, not an emissary or an ambassador of the Empire. My ability to act in that capacity would be limited to assuring that I will bring this matter to the attention of my commanding officers who themselves would need to send the message up the ladder, so to speak. Anything beyond is up to the Empire."

The guard outstretched his arms in welcome of the idea. "Hey, it's a start at the very least."

"It is," Sitirus agreed, "but do not hold me to it just yet. I will certainly bring this to Captain Dranto's attention but he and the baron both must decide whether to accept our help before I can."

"I know," the guard replied, "I just wanted to know if you could offer, is all. We may give the impression of a strong town guard that I'd rather not downplay, but we could really use a hand."

"I understand," Sitirus responded with a sympathetic nod. "I will be sure to let them know."

The guard replied with a curt nod, saying, "You have my thanks. Also, when you give your report of this incident to the captain, tell them that Jurggan Ehrarssen and myself, Rodry, were the ones who made the arrest. He'll know who we are and will seek us out for ours for confirmation."

Sitirus returned a grateful smile as he said, "I will let him know you two should be praised."

Rodry smiled back as he offered, "Do you need directions to palace? I can take you there."

"I appreciate the offer but no thank you," Sitirus replied. "I have already received directions from a clerk in the Census and Excise Office and do not want to interrupt while you are on patrol."

"Very well," Rodry accepted, then bid Sitirus farewell before resuming his patrol while the young man returned to his own route. As they parted ways at the nearest street corner, Sitirus went to find a bench where he could doublecheck his things. He remained on high alert even though the siren had been arrested, keeping his eyes open for signs of that suspicious Redguard. When nobody stood out to him, he sighed in exhaustion and then again after confirming he had everything. While fortunate to have escaped that situation without losing anything or having something stolen, a part of him felt sorry for confronting the siren out in the open like that. If he was wrong about her being a thief, she really would not have been in the right state of mind to understand the accusations they made against her and to defend herself on the spot from charges made. Sitirus reasoned, however, that although he did overreact, he had only reacted accordingly, appreciating how that part of him was what kept him from being any harsher toward her. His mother and Shulmonk would have been proud. At the same time, a day in prison would help the siren come to her senses for her to realize what she had done and, if the case went to trial, defend herself in court, provided she had an alibi.

As Sitirus stood up and secured the pack around his shoulders, he wondered if there might have been more to that siren than he thought. Whether she was a temptress or a thief, she certainly gave him the impression that she was not the sort who would spill whatever secrets she was privy to or had uncovered without the other's knowledge. Her lips, embellished to seduce men into doing her bidding and though speaking to him as if he could be a potential client or suitor for that purpose, looked like they were sealed at the same time to keep him from using anything against her. Sitirus thought he should have tried to press her for more information by taking advantage of her drunken state, but considering how dubious that itself came across as, he doubted she would reveal anything incriminating. For now, she was a suspect in the attempted theft of his mother's amulet of Dibella, awaiting whether she would prove her innocence at trial or have a judge determine her fate instead.

So too was that Redguard who followed them at first, but Sitirus had no idea who that man was and could not get a clearer sight of him. Something told him, however, that he would one day, and that it could unravel the mystery. Was it intuition, or had Dibella planted the belief in his head?

He shook his head, uncertain one way or the other but did not want to question it, preferring to keep his wits about him over doubting the Goddess of Love and Beauty herself. Not even a day went by since his arrival in Rosgard and already he had been accosted by someone who attempted to get him into bed with her or worse. He would have been cautious even if she said she practiced the Dibellan Arts. Sitirus was fortunate he had no time to be her plaything or the victim of a crime though, not today or the however many coming days. He had a Captain of the Guard to meet with.

---

The moment Sitirus caught sight of the moat across the bridge he found himself upon, the apprentice warrior knew he was in the right place. As he finished crossing and descended the steps down to the next street, he turned toward the street leading up to it. It was a short incline, although completely crowded. People came and went, some by foot, others riding either on horseback or in carts full of cargo. Sitirus gathered this part of Rosgard saw some heavier traffic because the palace was right there, which also explained why it was so heavily guarded too. Multiple guards stood at arms all over the street and some patrolled it and the neighboring streets surrounding the building. His approach was not impeded by them unlike when the siren had before, thankfully, but trying to navigate the street leading up to the exterior gatehouse felt like it took about as long. He constantly had to get out of someone's way or a horse trotting along, and while avoiding the carts was easier, on two occasions Sitirus was nearly jostled into their path by citizens in a rush to where they were going. It was not only rude of them to shove their way past one another on a busy street, including the person disguised as an Imperial Legionnaire, which, if he were one, was ever worse, but nearly dangerous. He hoped the guards would notice but either they did not due to the traffic or it was of no concern until someone got hurt. That was cause for concern and a complaint waiting to be made.

Despite the crowded street, Sitirus managed to make his way over to the exterior gatehouse. Approaching the building, he noticed two guards on duty outside the double doors and thought the pair were town guards until he realized they wore tabards over their chainmail cuirasses. That was a sign that they were the baron's house guards, and as he got closer he saw that their tabards were colored green and yellow and were decorated on the front with traditional Yokudan designs. Their pauldrons and light iron shields bore the house symbol which differed from Rosgard's, but he was not looking close enough at it to tell what it looked like. He supposed he might have a better chance inside, offering them a pleasant nod as he opened one of the doors, but neither returned the gesture.

Upon stepping inside, Sitirus was delighted to find that the interior was uncongested. After having been surrounded by crowds all day, coming to a place where he could be free to outstretch his arms if he so chose was a relief. Only a handful of house guards, nine total, one of whom Sitirus took to be the gatekeeper, were inside. From where he stood, he noticed that the gatekeeper was a Breton from the pointed ears nestled among his loose auburn hair, and that he was flanked by three of the others. The remaining five all stood watch; two by the front entrance like the pair outside, a third on the stairs leading up to the second level where Sitirus supposed a few more guards would be found, and the last two at the door leading to the drawbridge. He smiled now that he had finished appraising the heightened security. With the exterior gatehouse this heavily guarded, it meant that the palace inside was just as if not more fortified or had better defenses than the gatehouse allowed.

The décor looked rather plain though. Several chairs and a couple benches stood up against the walls, obviously for people to sit in while waiting. Several tapestries hung from the walls below the windows, each bearing both the symbol of Rosgard and the same house symbol Sitirus saw on the guards' pauldrons and shields. Now that he had a better look at it, Sitirus went over to examine one of the tapestries that displayed it in greater detail. The insignia was of a cup of tea held within a fur pelt, representing the warm elegance in hunting. It hung over the rose and shield to prove the baron ruled the town, but also suggested to Sitirus that the baron might see himself as being above its law. He turned away from it in disapproval of that idea, though kept that to himself. There were only three bookcases in the gatehouse, two behind the counter where the gatekeeper stood and one in the middle of the opposite wall. The bookcases behind the counter held a few weapons here and there, some ledgers, and a bunch of curios. One ledger had fallen on its side, crushing a few sheets of parchment under its weight. The gatekeeper, paying that no mind, removed another ledger from the same shelf and brought it over to the counter to check the last page, muttering under his breath, "Where in Oblivion is he?" Sitirus slightly tilted his head at that, wondering if they were expecting him before realizing it was someone else who had not shown up yet. As he walked over, he glanced at the small books and various curios on the last bookcase to see if there was something that might interest him. If he had to wait, he wanted to try and learn something he did not know about Rosgard.

Stopping in front of the counter, Sitirus cleared his throat and politely said, "Excuse me?"

The Breton gatekeeper looked up and scrunched his face at the young man in front of him. Sitirus was a bit taken aback by the reaction but held his ground as the gatekeeper asked, "What?"

"I am here to see Captain Milren Dranto," said Sitirus, ignoring the rude tone. "Is he in?"

"Yeah, he's here," the gatekeeper answered a little more respectfully this time now that he had seen Sitirus' armor and realized he was not the person they expected. He remained impatient though, but Sitirus now knew it was because that other person was not on time. "What do you want him for Legionnaire? Got a message from the lines in Valenwood or some bigshot from Cyrodiil?"

"Cyrodiil," Sitirus answered as he dropped the sacks, figuring he had to show him the letter.

The gatekeeper scowled as he asked, "And just what does the Empire want with Dranto?"

"I was told to see him specifically," Sitirus explained as he fished the letter out of his pack. By not saying that he was referred by Luvir, he allowed the gatekeeper to infer that his latter guess was correct. He held the letter out, adding, "I was also given this letter for him by Luvir, a clerk in the local Census and Excise Office. He said this should be delivered to Captain Dranto right away."

"Give it here," the gatekeeper demanded as he snatched the letter from Sitirus and unsealed it. Sitirus thought he would have taken it with a bit more tact, but let it be because the letter would help explain things. Luvir had not told him it was for Captain Dranto's eyes only, just that it needed to be read in private. The gatehouse was more of a public space but since the gatekeeper and other house guards were the only people present, Sitirus supposed it was safe enough to show it to them. Besides, keeping them out of the loop could have made him look more suspicious. He watched as the gatekeeper quietly read it to himself, then showed the three guards behind him for thoughts on the matter. One of the guards looked up from the letter to appraise Sitirus, though she soon nodded in agreement with the other two. Having their approval, the gatekeeper returned the letter to Sitirus, saying, "Looks legitimate all right. That's definitely his signature." He motioned for Sitirus to step back against the wall so the house guards could check his weapons and luggage. Sitirus complied, handing both sacks and the pack over to the guard while the gatekeeper retrieved a ring from under the counter. "This ring's enchanted to keep you from casting any magic in the palace," he explained briefly. "Put it on and we'll lower the drawbridge. You'll need to hand over your weaponry on the other side before an escort can take you to the captain though. You can get it back on the way out."

Sitirus inclined his head as he said, "Of course. Luvir explained as much," adding once the ring was handed to him, "Although, the ring might not be necessary in my case," to be honest with them. When the gatekeeper tilted his head and the guards exchanged looks, he explained as he put the ring on, "I was born without Magicka, a rare defect, so I am unable to cast spells even without it. If you want, I can demonstrate by trying to cast one that does not affect any of you, only myself."

"Oh," the gatekeeper mouthed in understanding. "I'm sorry to hear that. Your honesty and the offer are appreciated, though we still have to follow protocol, so you'll need to wear the ring."

Sitirus offered him a grateful smile. "Thank you, but it is all right. I make do as a warrior."

"You'll need to," one of the guards advised. "This region's been more dangerous lately."

It was Sitirus' turn to tilt his head at the remark but before he could ask why, the gatekeeper craned his head toward the ceiling to yell, "Lower the drawbridge! Somebody wants to go across!" then directed the guards to open the doors so Sitirus could head over. He turned back to the young man next and handed back the letter as he said, "Here's your letter for the captain. You might have to show it to the guards on the other side too before they can escort you to him. Wait by the doors for the drawbridge to finish lowering." He pointed at the guards by the door while adding, "They'll let you know once it's safe to cross," before heading back behind the counter to write in the ledger.

"But should I finish registering first?" Sitirus asked, thinking there was actually more to it.

"You can do that on your way out," answered the gatekeeper. "Won't do to keep you from bringing word about the war from Captain Dranto, and I wouldn't want to get in the way of one of the Empire's Legionnaires with the war going. It'll be our asses on the line if we were to interfere."

Sitirus inclined his head, saying, "Very well, thank you," to show his gratitude to them for understanding the urgency of his predicament and letting him pass unobstructed. As he headed for the doors to the drawbridge, however, he threw a quick glance at the gatekeeper. Something about the one house guard's comment made him want to inquire about what sort of dangers the Kingdom of Taneth was facing. He figured, though, that the captain or someone at the Fighters Guild would go over that in more detail, so he decided not to bother them with the request for more information. His best guess was an increase in bandit raids and similar attacks now that the war brought troops and mercenaries to Valenwood and soon, Alinor. Sitirus did not think he would be given contracts requiring him to fight off bandits just yet, even though he could contribute as an apprentice warrior. The Fighters Guild would need to measure his skills in combat first. Perhaps they would offer him some easier contracts to get started with if they had any, or have him keep training until they found someone who could offer further tutelage or receive a contract that could start to test Sitirus' might. The drawbridge was nearly lowered, so for now he graciously accepted the invitation to go. Seeing if there was a spot in the Fighters Guild or another company could wait; Captain Dranto could not.

Just as the guards were about to let him through, the double doors at the entrance suddenly burst open. Sitirus and the guards at the counter both whirled to see an Argonian man in a blue and green outfit and pigskin shoes hurrying toward the counter, carrying an assortment of scrolls under one arm. A pair of fins grew on either side his head, the right one bearing silver ear piercings which hung from it. The Argonian panted as he halted at the counter, raising a hand to request a moment to catch his breath. A few scrolls tumbled to the floor though, prompting him to set the rest on the counter so he could pick them up as the gatekeeper furrowed his brow while saying, "You're late."

"Sorry for the delay," the Argonian apologized, his voice hoarse from having to rush. "One of the pipes started leaking as I was heading out. Nearly had quite the flood on our hands. Would've been fatal had we not shut the water off. It's being replaced as we speak but we'll need to reassess the site to determine the extent of the damage and how much it'll cost to have it repaired on time."

Sitirus watched as the gatekeeper swore under his breath in exasperation, though eventually took the explanation given and gave the Argonian a ring too. Satisfied that he might not have been too late, the Argonian thanked him for it and apologized again while putting it on. He then gathered the scrolls in both arms before joining Sitirus, noting the "Imperial Legionnaire" while giving him a curt nod. "Thought I'd never make it in time," he said to Sitirus with a chuckle as the young man returned the gesture. Even though he was out of breath, the Argonian appeared to have enough for friendly small talk as he inquired, "What's the news from Cyrodiil and Valenwood, Legionnaire?"

"Not much," Sitirus replied with a tilt of his head. They were only going to cross together, so it would not be long before they had to part at the barbican. To answer the Argonian's question though, he said, "There has been another assassination attempt on the Count of Cheydinhal's life," alluding to one of the rumors Astirian told him of, believing that would have been enough for now.

The Argonian snorted in response, "Those Hlaalu Dark Elves and their politics," ridiculing the Great House. "Always killing themselves over something or other." He turned to Sitirus to ask, "Who'd they piss off this time? Some of their old flames in Morrowind and those other 'Houses?'"

Sitirus shrugged but replied, "Maven Black-Briar and her son, Hemming, I guess?" He got a quizzical look from the Argonian, so he explained, "One of the Rift's richest merchants," which further confused the Argonian. "She lived in Riften, the kingdom's capital in Skyrim." Eliciting a nod that way, he continued, "House Hlaalu took the both of them in when they left the kingdom's lands for Nibenay," leaving out the part about the Western Revolution, "and made them retainers."

"That'll do it!" the Argonian laughed as the guards waved them through the doors. "Those Stormcloaks never learned to appreciate being given the chance to advance their careers, especially from the Dark Elves. They must've been too stupid to think they could take the throne of Nibenay."

"They must feel even stupider now that they realized they cannot have it," Sitirus chuckled.

"Damn straight!" he agreed.

Sitirus smiled as they walked over the drawbridge, admiring the moat underneath. Most of the water looked too dark to see through but the immediate surface area was clear enough to make out some slaughterfish. He wondered though, if more dangerous creatures were lurking beneath it.

The remark about Maven and Hemming being Stormcloaks was not lost on him, however. Now that he thought about it, Sitirus wondered if they were. The Black-Briars did help pit Ulfric Stormcloak's army in the Rift against the invading Legions even as they simultaneously lent their support to the Empire. The extent of their involvement in Stormcloak politics, if Stormcloaks even had politics beyond Ulfric's gibberish, was as unknown as how often they participated in imperial politics. More likely, the family took advantage of the civil war by playing both sides against each other for personal gain over fighting on the Old Kingdom's battlefields, the sort of valor true Nords could hardly ignore. Rather, the Black-Briars sounded like the kind of Nords who played for keeps and drakes more than they did honor and glory. The implied isolation from the game they referred to as Skyrim, the board they played on, manipulating its pieces as puppeteers would pull strings to make theirs dance, meant they were not contestants in the same sense, but were instead comparable to children playing a game with toy soldiers or tacticians studying a map and moving pieces across said map. They were not players in the strictest sense, but as game masters they helped decide how Skyrim would be impacted by the Rift and vice versa, giving the two sides what they wanted which in turn gave the Black-Briars what they wanted: A complete monopoly over full control of Skyrim.

Now that Maven and Hemming had become retainers of House Hlaalu, both of them were no longer active spectators with what they intended to gain from Skyrim's civil war at stake. They were now pieces on a different game board competing against their employers and the Great House as a whole. It must have felt so humiliating and terrifying going from one to the next only to realize they could not play by their own rules anymore. Being in House Hlaalu's pockets meant the Great House could decide when to use them or take them out to make space for more reliable assets that would get the job done better than the Black-Briars could. Considering that Maven and Hemming were suspects in the assassination attempt on Count Farwil, it seemed clear that House Hlaalu must have found those assets. Either that or they simply had a reason or two to remove them. Whatever the case, they were being dealt with, so the question of who their family aligned to did not matter.

Sitirus was about to pose his own question when the Argonian turned to ask, "And the war in Valenwood? How's that going? Or you don't know because they've yet to send for you, right?"

"The war is going as you would expect," Sitirus replied casually. "We are still winning."

The Argonian nodded while looking out over the moat himself. "That's what I like to hear."

Sitirus turned to him as they neared the halfway point. They remained strangers to the other but now that they established the foundation of a rapport, he thought the Argonian might be willing to supply some information of his own. "You mentioned something to the gatekeeper about pipes," he started, receiving a look from him. "Is there a problem with the technology in the lighthouse?"

"Oh that?" said the Argonian. It appeared Sitirus had caught him off guard with the request, likely because he had not expected the young man to take an interest in the subject or was unaware that he had spoken loud enough for Sitirus to overhear. "No, it's got to do with the town's sewers. Rosgard's got hydroelectric technology of Rourken design that many of the town's appliances run on. The water flows through pipes found all over their ruins underground, from the bay and several underground springs beneath the town to its plumbing." He offered Sitirus another grin as he asked, "You're from Cyrodiil, yes?" When Sitirus nodded, his smile widened as he further advertised the service, saying, "Then you're going to love the plumbing, I guarantee it. You'll have opportunities to wash your hands in real sinks and bathe in real bathtubs, privately or by availing yourself of the public baths, all powered by the turn of valves. Our fountains are some of the greatest works of art in the Kingdom of Taneth, showcasing some of the Rourken hydraulics in action. Even our sewers run on all that hydropower, transporting the waste to filters constructed to decontaminate the water. By filtering out the pollution, we're able to give Rosgard's people some of the cleanest water you'll find in southeastern Hammerfell. You won't find plumbing as exceptional across most of Tamriel."

"Except for Morrowind and Skyrim?" Sitirus asked curiously, familiar with its origins.

"Parts of Skyrim to be specific," the Argonian corrected him on that part. "Not every place in Skyrim can claim to have plumbing. Neither can Hammerfell. There's more in the southeastern regions of this province than those in the other directions. Morrowind's got the most, that much is true, since it's where the Dwarves first created plumbing systems alongside their other technology. That's where all of our Rourken technology and architecture originated from, as a matter of fact."

Sitirus inclined his head, intrigued by the explanation. Although his own understanding of Dwemer history and culture was limited, he knew the Rourken were the only clan from Morrowind to have made their way into Hammerfell, establishing themselves as the province's sole clan. Ergo, theirs was the only Dwemer technology and architecture around for miles. Sitirus did not discount importations from Morrowind and Skyrim though, as Rourken innovations could only do so much.

"We've been rerouting some of the sewers beneath Old Rosgard," the Argonian explained further, "the part of town that took the most damage from the Battle of Rosgard during Arannelya's invasion in the First Great War. Some of it's still good, so we've been able to recycle whatever we could find. Helps to cut costs of having to build new channels and aqueducts for the water to travel thanks to the spare parts, and we've got the tools needed to repair it in case anything breaks down."

The mention of that other part of town piqued Sitirus' interest as he asked, "Old Rosgard?"

"One of the former districts," said the Argonian. "Used to be where most of the commerce flowed. Numerous survivors who fled Rosgard before the battle once lived there. Now, it's nothing more than a filthy quarter of decrepit rookeries." He turned to look in what Sitirus guessed was the direction of Old Rosgard, appearing to give the place a wide berth in discussing the matter though continuing with a forlorn tone. "Only those who've returned to Rosgard after the Thalmor escaped Hammerfell still call it home. They're practically the town's elders but often stay out of its affairs, keeping mostly to themselves. Some say a few of them are former mages and wizards who studied in Elinhir but I don't buy it. Haven't heard of them casting spells before." He then turned to Sitirus, adding, "It's also where scavengers from around the kingdom go to find loot left behind by anyone who hasn't gone back or sent for it. I'm told there's some good stuff you can't find anywhere else."

"Is that supposed to be illegal?" Sitirus wondered aloud as they approached the barbican.

The Argonian shrugged. "Beats me, but hey, finders keepers. One person's trash is another person's treasure, as they say. You won't catch me taking what wasn't mine to begin with, though, and I wouldn't want to stick around Old Rosgard for long if I have to." When Sitirus looked at him with a puzzled expression, he explained, "The Thieves Guild set up shop there too, and have since spread all over town, taking up residence in the local corner clubs, taverns, and bunkhouses. Even parts of the sewers that aren't maintained as often house some of their ilk and local beggars. But a number of Wood Elven refuges from Valenwood took over. Called the Silver Crescents, I believe."

"Sounds dangerous," Sitirus commented, reminded of his own encounter earlier. "Back in Cyrodiil, beggars are thought to be the Thieves Guild's eyes and ears. My cousin even claims they all work for their leader, the infamous Gray Fox. There is hardly any evidence to prove it, however, though the Imperial Watch are worried enough that they keep putting wanted posters everywhere."

"Of the beggars?" the Argonian asked as the barbican's doors opened to welcome them in.

"Sometimes," Sitirus sighed as they entered, disheartened by the admission. The reason he mentioned was a controversial one across Cyrodiil. On the one hand, it could keep the thieves from acquiring information they could use to plan heists and other crimes. Some of the guards believed they could get the guild to turn themselves in that way, although it was hardly successful. Thieves could simply break in to break the beggars out or bargain for the beggars' release and then escape. The guards did not always honor their end of the bargain though, because vagrancy was considered a petty crime in some parts of Cyrodiil. Sitirus was not familiar with the laws from other counties, though the Kingdom of Sutch and Anvil had no such legislation against beggars. That did not stop some guards from being too lax in letting beggars go free or keeping them off the streets so middle class folk would not have to complain and trouble them with their complaints. Sitirus remembered hearing such grievances in Sutch but he never objected, able to sympathize due to his predicament.

On the other hand, courts found little to no reason to hold beggars accountable by keeping them imprisoned. They took up space in cells that could be used to contain actual criminals instead. Further, some of the chapels and temples in Cyrodiil were opposed to it on humanitarian grounds, something that Sitirus agreed with due to the circumstances that led to his apprenticeship in Sutch.

He could understand the logic of both perspectives and agreed it was a difficult decision.

At the moment, he was just glad to have given a generic response for a "Legionnaire."

"Well, if it's any consolation, the guards don't do that here in Rosgard," said the Argonian. "The wanted posters, I mean. They do throw beggars in prison if they're in league with the guild."

"Like in Cyrodiil," Sitirus replied in comparison.

"And anywhere else you can find common sense," the Argonian responded with a curt nod as two house guards approached. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a meeting with the steward."

"Of course," Sitirus returned a nod, adding, "Good luck."

"And you as well," the Argonian replied while exiting the barbican with his escort.

Sitirus watched him depart, then looked around the barbican before heading to the counter. He noted that it was similar in appearance to the gatehouse's interior but lacked the décor, making up for it in weapon racks. Better to fortify the palace than make the barbican look good, he guessed while approaching the counter to show the clerk both his papers and the letter for Captain Dranto. She took a couple minutes to examine them, though did not spend too long on the letter, explaining to Sitirus that further scrutiny of it was not required since he had already shown it at the gatehouse and received approval to deliver it, but she did say it was good he presented it again to confirm his reason for visiting. After finding his papers were in order, she checked if he still wore the ring and instructed Sitirus to turn over his equipment so another pair of house guards could escort him. The young man bobbed his head, dutifully complying with the order but asked if his equipment would be kept safe and for permission to keep his mother's amulet of Dibella. The clerk assured him they had locked chests to store his gear and that jewelry dedicated to the Divines was perfectly all right.

As they approached the exit, the two house guards at the doors opened them before waving the trio through. One of the guards escorting Sitirus exited first to check the area before motioning for him and the other to follow. Sitirus nearly tilted his head at the thought that the palace was not as safe as he might have suspected, though refrained when he realized it was necessary. Somebody could have broken in or attacked at any moment. If he had not turned over his weapons, he would have been glad to lend a hand. They had yet to trust him with that, although perhaps by joining the Fighters Guild he could bypass that requirement. If not, then he could prove himself much quicker.

Instead, he followed the lead house guard outside before the second trailed him. The doors shut behind them as the first directed him on the path toward the barracks. As they walked, Sitirus marveled at the palace before him. The courtyard was the first thing that caught his attention while passing through it. It was comprised of two beautiful gardens filled with flowers of all sorts, though he was unfamiliar with most of the flora on display. Water sprouted in midair from two three-level fountains that stood in the center of each garden. It flowed over the bottom level and from spigots on all sides into pools at the bottom, which connected to streams that trailed and curved away from the fountains. One of those streams fed into a small lake on the other side of the courtyard. Another flowed into an intersecting river that came from a waterfall pouring out of an aqueduct and led into that same lake. Evergreen trees took up residence all over the courtyard and cast shadows over the house guards who stood beneath them or patrolled the grounds and groundskeepers who took care of the property. Birds perched on the branches by their nests which were nestled safely within the recesses, while their mates hunted for food to feed their young. Hedges lines the pathways, leading off to hedge mazes one could get lost or hide out in. Some statues of Redguard heroes and heroines dotted the courtyard, with plaques giving their names and describing their importance to Rosgard.

The palace grabbed most of his attention though, and held onto it the longest. It was a rather enormous structure, albeit smaller than he initially expected, appearing to be built from stone, clay, and concrete like the buildings in town. It curved hexagonally around the foundation, straightening out whenever it merged with one of the six watchtowers on all sides. The roof was a cross between triangular slopes on each side though, interrupted only by a concrete dome that curved around the middle and ending at the bases of spires pointed toward the sky. The palace was three-stories high, although Sitirus expected there to be an attic for some of the servants and saw a set of stairs outside that led down to a lower level. He guessed that was an undercroft for storage or the dungeon where prisoners of war or political prisoners were kept. Smoke billowed from two of the windows where the kitchens must have been located, although from the distance between them and the fact the two were on different levels, Sitirus supposed that one was a kitchen while the other was a royal forge. Two pairs of curved staircases led up to the patio where a pair of towering double doors, ornate in design, cast shadows across a solid fourth of the courtyard's center path. Impressed by its splendor, Sitirus almost forgot why he was there to begin with when the house guard behind him asked, "So, where's the captain?" as they walked right by the palace. "Isn't he supposed to be in the palace?"

"In that watchtower over there," the house guard in front directed his comrade and Sitirus' attention toward one of the outer watchtowers, then to a set of adjacent stairs up to the battlements. From its height and the door at the bottom, Sitirus assumed there was either a ladder up or another staircase inside and a door up top. In place of actual windows were narrow slits wide enough for a person to look out, making him wonder how archers and arbalests could shoot from inside with as little space to see out as possible. "He's been especially attentive of that direction since the battle," the guard continued. "Can't blame him given what happened, though he's more alert than usual as of late." He turned around to face the other guard and address him, letting Sitirus listen in on their conversation. It was hard not to when they were escorting him. "Those rumors really agitated him."

"Rumors?" Sitirus tilted his head at that as he wondered what they were talking about. Just as he was about to press them for more information, a small figure suddenly darted out from behind a hedge to his left. Sitirus had not expected anything to happen while they were escorting him, but maintained his footing when the figure barreled into him. For a moment, he thought it was another seductress, though upon looking down he discovered the person was a small Redguard boy wearing children's clothing. Before he could react, tears poured from the child's eyes as he started wailing.

Worried for the boy's safety, Sitirus quickly knelt to help and reassure him that everything was all right. Before he say something though, a voice echoed from the hedge maze, "Daroissean!" He looked up to find a Redguard woman with black hair that draped past her shoulders, wearing a blue velvet outfit and matching blue suede shoes, hurrying toward them as he picked the child up. "There you are!" she exclaimed once she arrived before realizing that he was crying. She held her arms out to receive him from Sitirus as she fretted, "Oh, my poor baby, what happened? Have you fallen again? Are you hurt?" The woman, whom Sitirus supposed was the boy's mother or perhaps a nursemaid, smiled at the child, cooing, "There, there, don't cry, mommy's here now. Mommy's going to make it all better," confirming his first assumption. He dared not speak up yet, fearing the interruption would upset her son further and anger her by extension. He waited as she calmed him down first, letting her apologize, "Sorry about that," as she swaddled her son, still looking happily at him, "I took my eyes off of him for but a moment while playing with him and he wandered off."

"That is quite all right, ma'am," Sitirus, replied while inclining his head and giving her an understanding smile. "I am just glad he is unharmed. The fault is mine, I was not paying attention."

"Did he run into you by accident?" she asked, turning her green eyes to him.

He nodded in response, "Yes, although I should have kept my eyes peeled."

"It's fine," she politely dismissed his admission with a smile. "These things happen."

"They do," Sitirus agreed. "Still, it is my responsibility. I should make it up to both of you."

"Please, I insist," the boy's mother maintained. "It's the least I could do for a Legionnaire." Her smile widened as she looked at Sitirus with a mother's fondness. "You're all out there fighting a common enemy while I'm stuck here helping to maintain the home front. I've got to do my part." She then turned toward the palace, adding, "I assume you're here to speak with my husband about the war," before turning back to him. "You'll find him in the library if he's not in the throne room."

"Actually, my lady," said one of the house guards, "he's come to see Captain Dranto."

"Captain Dranto?" she asked, confused by the referral. "Why?" She looked up at the same watchtower they were escorting Sitirus to before asking, "Does it have something to do with him?"

"Yes," Sitirus answered, starting to suspect that he was talking to the baron's wife after the guard addressed her formally. "I have a letter for the captain that has to do with a delicate matter."

"Which is?" she demanded, looking to the two house guards for an explanation, who turned to each other as she pressed, "This doesn't have to do with those security measures of his, correct?"

Sitirus shook his head in confusion as he replied, "Not at all, ma'am, it is just a delivery."

"A delivery for Captain Dranto from the Legion?" she queried, her lips pulling back into a frown while raising an eyebrow. Sitirus did not fault her for finding it hard to believe that someone from the Imperial Legion would come all the way to Rosgard for that. Even he found it odd, though refrained from commenting. The only reason one would that he could think of was to deliver news of a relative's passing, though he had no idea whether the captain had family in Cyrodiil. Right as he was about to confirm it anyway to maintain his cover, she asked, "Does this have to do with the war in Valenwood? I thought the king had agreed to keep him here instead of deploying him there." She suddenly glared at Sitirus as she accused, "Don't tell me your Empire's trying to poach Dranto from us to get him enlisted. You've got no jurisdiction over him and can't convince us otherwise."

Sitirus shook his head to deny it. "No, ma'am, it is merely a delivery. My orders are to take it to Captain Dranto. I am not at liberty to explain why or what it is, just that it is official business."

"Then shouldn't you be speaking to my husband?" she demanded again, confused herself. "Unless…" Her eyes suddenly widened as she claimed, "The Thalmor are trying to murder him?!"

"No!" Sitirus tried to dispel her fear. "I mean, this has nothing to do with the war."

The baron's wife tilted her head. "It doesn't?"

"It does not," he shook his head in confirmation. "It is—how do I put it?—a more personal situation. A private affair, if you will." Sitirus did not like how he was making her worry over her husband's safety when his life was not in any jeopardy that he knew of. Perhaps the Thalmor were plotting against the baron, considering the war, though the allegation was without evidence at this time. That aside, he should not have lied to her because if he was right about her, she should know who he was and why. However, he continued with, "I assure you, it is unrelated to the war effort."

"Then what is it related to?" she pressed, now suspicious of his intentions.

"Well, if you must know," Sitirus began to explain it again, "I am not actually an Imperial Legionnaire. It is true that I come from Cyrodiil but I have never enlisted nor have been drafted. I apologize for my armor leading you to think I was. By chance, it was simply the only armor which could fit me and also the only armor available at the time of my departure. It has helped me get by in that regard, although I intend to be rid of it soon." He paused to let her ingest that, then went on by adding, "I suppose you could best describe me as an exile. Not by the Empire's decree but from my own volition for reasons I would prefer to keep to myself, for now, but unless pressed by you."

"A self-exile?" she raised an eyebrow at that.

"Correct," Sitirus affirmed. "As you must know, life in the part of Cyrodiil I hail from has become rather difficult for me as of late. That is the gist of why I come bearing a letter for Captain Dranto. It is not from someone in Cyrodiil but a clerk I spoke to in your town's Census and Excise Office. He was able to help by drafting new papers and a letter to explain my predicament to him."

"And just who is this clerk?" she pressed, seeming to doubt his story.

"Luvir," he answered.

"He's right," one of the house guards confirmed his story. "Showed it to the gatekeeper on the other side and to the clerk over in the barbican. They wouldn't have let him through if it wasn't legit. Admittedly, neither of us have read it but he's got the ring on and surrendered his weapons."

"He's still wearing it?" she demanded. Seeing that she needed convincing, Sitirus removed his gauntlet to show her. The Redguard noblewoman took a closer look, scrutinizing the ring while turning to keep her boy away from Sitirus. She remained cautious, uncertain if she could trust him around her child. Sitirus understood, taking no offense because he would have done the same. He stood there, allowing her to examine the ring until she said, "Hmm…looks like that's it. Definitely one of his all right. She then returned her attention to Sitirus to appraise him, scrutinizing his face for about a minute or two. She raised an eyebrow in wonder, saying, "You're a Nibenese Imperial."

Sitirus nodded as he said, "Yes, I am," to confirm her deduction.

"But you're not an Imperial Legionnaire?" she asked. As Sitirus shook his head, she added, "How do we know you're not with the Thalmor? Or are some scalawag trying to cause us trouble?"

"Because I arrived by ship, the Red Dugal," he explained. "Your town's own wharfmaster, Maramka can vouch for me in addition to Luvir. She boarded to speak with its captain and led me to the Census and Excise Office. I must point out that due to the circumstances regarding my self-exile, my passage was arranged off the record. I was originally slated to arrive in Taneth but have chosen to disembark here so another passenger, whose own voyage was booked prior but was then postponed by the captain on my behalf, could be brought to their destination." Aware that she and the house guards could think he was a nobleman, he promptly added, "I had not intended for mine to supersede theirs. The captain thought it was more convenient to drop me off first. Taneth, despite the distance, was not too far out of the way," without saying that it was actually his idea, not hers.

"I see…" she said while ingesting his story, considering her response. Sitirus supposed she was having trouble buying it even though he had been as truthful as he could be with her. Although he did not want to come across as impatient, he turned to look up at the watchtower, wondering if Captain Dranto was still there or had gone elsewhere in the time he was being interrogated by her. The noblewoman took that into account, lowering her guard and relaxing as she said, "I guess that makes sense. You are being candid with us by bringing it right to the attention of Captain Dranto."

"Thank you," Sitirus inclined his head, withholding a sigh of relief now that it appeared he succeeded in persuading them that he was not of noble blood. He was certain that the house guards believed him, although the noblewoman might see right through him. If she had though, she either chose not to blow his cover out of respect or for some other reason or had yet to determine he was.

Just as he was about to continue, the child began babbling for his mother's attention as she turned to him. "What's that, my little man?" she asked her son with a playful smile. "You want to go inside and see father? Okay, we'll go see if he's free. Just give me a moment, I'm almost done." As she swaddled her child, the noblewoman turned back to Sitirus and inquired, "Before you head up, how might my husband reach you? He might want to confirm your story, and I assume both of your witnesses will too if we reach out to them, yes? We'll need to let them know of your arrival."

Sitirus bobbed his head. "Of course," he complied. "I will be in town for some time, though have yet to determine for how long and where I might go if I depart. For now, I suppose you should contact the local Fighters Guild. I will likely join it for a source of income but it is not set in stone."

"We shall, if my husband believes it's necessary," she replied. "Oh, and your name is…?"

He bowed to her, introducing himself as, "Sitirus Artanian, an apprentice warrior. Forgive my manners, my lady, I was merely trying to maintain my disguise as best I could before its end."

"No worries," the noblewoman dismissed his apology. "We may have our reservations but we'll never turn away someone in need, especially with this war going on. People here know what it feels like to be a refugee." She offered him a smile, adding, "If you need a fresh start, Rosgard's the best place to begin anew. We may not have as much as Cyrodiil but we've got the opportunities you're looking for. You'll need them now that you've left the Imperial Province behind for life in the Deathlands of Hammerfell." Her toddler's cheerful babbling captivated her again as she turned to him, but continued saying to Sitirus, "Trust me, you'll learn a thing or two now that you're here. I guarantee it, Sitirus. When you've lived in Rosgard long enough, you'll begin to appreciate it for what it's worth." She turned back to him, adding, "That's something you won't regain in Cyrodiil."

Sitirus offered her a smile as a token of appreciation. "I am sure I will, but I will miss it."

"So do we all, Sitirus," she agreed, returning her attention to her child. "But we must go."

"Indeed, we must," he inclined his head. "It was a pleasure speaking, Lady…?"

"Minesa Fherhti, Baroness of Rosgard," she introduced herself, then said, "The pleasure's all mine, Sitirus," before heading for the palace's entrance. As Minesa departed, she turned to look over her shoulder so she could add, "And before I forget, I bid you welcome on behalf of Rosgard."

Sitirus smiled back as he returned a bow, replying, "The welcome is all mine, Lady Fherhti. I thank you for your magnanimity in giving me a chance to explain myself," before the two groups parted ways. As the house guards continued to escort him, he cast another glance at where Minesa and her son were to see her carrying him up the stairs to the main entrance. He could not suppress a smile at the sight of her taking care of the boy, unable to recall those years of his own childhood. How long had it been since his mother held him in her arms like that? Received him from the arms of another? Swaddled him? Cooed to him? It had been far too long. Even if he had stayed in Anvil, he could not go that far back in time. Articulating the feeling of his mother's love and reciprocating was an incredible experience he could only appreciate growing up, although Sitirus could still look back on the earliest memories with a certain fondness only he and his mother could share. It made him pull his lips further back into a somewhat wider smile at the thought, despite having attempted to disconnect himself from Anvil earlier. That one part of Sitirus Kratian would never be forgotten.

Putting that aside, Sitirus wondered how the local royal family would have taken his sudden arrival. Had he not encountered Minesa then, her husband would have likely recalled him once he was made aware. A meeting with the baron would have kept him informed but whether he allowed Sitirus to stay could have gone either way. He hoped Baron Fherhti was as welcoming as his wife.

"Boy, that kid's cute!" the house guard behind him exclaimed as he himself threw a glance at the main entrance. "Wish I had a son to take care of like that. He's lucky to have such a mother."

"Sure is," the other agreed, then looked over his shoulder at Sitirus to explain, "Boy's quite the common feature around the grounds this time of day. Him and his older brother, Amican, often run through the hedge mazes, playing games and looking for treasure." He turned back toward the watchtower as he added, "I tell ya, those two are as thick as thieves, basically attached at the hip."

"I take it his older brother is otherwise engaged," Sitirus observed of the encounter.

"Must've come down with something," the guard deduced as they approached the stairs up to the battlements. "They're often catching something or other. These things happen when they're that young. Worst I've ever gotten as a child was a bad case of Ataxia but I've recovered from it."

Sitirus tilted his head but said nothing as he reminisced on the times when he was ill while they climbed. He looked down as they ascended for an increasingly higher view of the property to observe the scale between the ground and the battlements. Everything appeared to shrink the higher they climbed but that was nothing more than a natural illusion brought on by a rise in elevation. It reminded him of the hills he scaled back in the Gold Coast where he could watch the environment, making him look forward to the terrain here. Nothing beat the sights from an adjacent hill or cliff.

Or the battlements, offering Sitirus a better view of Rosgard he had yet to witness while he waited for the house guard in front to usher him inside once they reached the top. It was but a brief glimpse though, yet in those moments of observation he found something new to look forward to. As he stood atop the alure right next to the ramparts, he put his hands on the parapets to peer down at the town below. Most of it was hardly different from before, although the sights introduced him to much more that he could visit in person. Rosgard sprawled over the land before him, stretching for miles upon miles as people, smaller in scale by comparison, as if the size of insects that scurried beneath the towering heights above them, inched their way through streets that appeared like lines on a thick sheet of parchment or papyrus. Every building was no more than a fragment of the grand textile known as Rosgard, and every person walking its streets and inhabiting those buildings were the cords or fibers woven together to give the image flavor that could not be found on static works of art. If only there was a renowned artist in Tamriel who specialized in putting already live works on canvases, textiles, and ceramics, where they could go on living in the moment that was Rosgard.

As a matter of fact, Cheydinhal's most famous Dunmeri painter, Rythe Lythandas, was the right man for the job. Nobody else in Tamriel could bring the settings of their portraits to life quite like Rythe, whose paintings almost seemed as real as the world of Cyrodiil itself. Like his mother, Motira, Rythe and his father, whom served in the Arnesian War of 3E 396, before him, worshipped Dibella and applied the Goddess of Beauty and Love's to their paintings of the Imperial Province. Rythe was also the only supplier of painted troll fat, an ingredient so rare that its discovery during the Oblivion Crisis of 3E 433 drove alchemists from all around Tamriel to his house once it ended, where Rythe and the Champion of Cyrodiil first unveiled it to the public. Of all the painters in the continent who could do Rosgard justice, Rythe Lythandas was undoubtedly the only man to do it.

Memory stones could preserve it just as well, though those could not convey the feelings a work of art could. The stones could only absorb so much of a given moment and play the moment back time and time again, trapping the memory in an endless loop that could be tapped into at any time. They could also be shattered, which could either split the memory into disjointed pieces that, if possible, could be recovered and reformed in another vessel, or destroyed with no way to retrieve the memory. It would be lost forever, with nothing but the physical remains of what that memory's form once was. Given that memory stones originated in Yokuda, Sitirus wondered if the Redguards knew an incantation to recover memories from broken stones before they were erased or forgotten.

Sitirus was not particularly absorbed by the scenery of Rosgard's culture, although he was lost in thought long enough when he realized minutes passed since the house guard instructed him to wait while he went off in search of Captain Dranto. Thinking the guard captain went elsewhere, Sitirus wondered how long it would have taken to locate him if he was either not in the watchtower or further along the battlements. The guard eventually exited the watchtower and returned, saying, "Sorry for the wait," while walking up to him. "The captain will see you now. He's waiting inside." He threw a look over his shoulder at the watchtower, adding, "Word of advice, try to avoid saying or doing anything that'll set him off. He's already annoyed with us for interrupting his vigilance."

Sitirus returned a puzzled look but thanked him as he followed the guard inside to find the Dunmeri knight seated at his desk, illuminated by the light of two nearby windows behind him. A busy man he seemed, Captain Dranto was surrounded by a mountain of reports and correspondence that swamped the surface, leaving nothing to see but the top of his figure. A map of the kingdom's lands draped down the side like a curtain, looking like it would have fallen had it not been for the two stacks of documents weighing it down. Behind him was a tall bookcase which stood up against the wall between both windows, the top shelves of which were filled to the brim with books, loose reports, and various knickknacks, while the middle and bottom shelves contained several weapons and pieces of armor. In the center of the view room was a round table surrounded by empty chairs, upon which rested a few empty plates, serving utensils, and glasses, plus an open book on the side that was not occupied. The walls around the view room housed weapon racks under the windows, each filled with silver and steel weapons, along with crates which contained quivers of arrows and bolt cases for the archers and arbalests. In one corner was a single bed for one person that had been shoved so far into the space that it could go no further. An ornate mahogany chest rested up against the foot of the bed, between it and a mannequin displaying an ebony cuirass, helmet, and pauldrons. A nightstand stood by the bed's free side, with an unlit candle, an ebony dagger, and another loose book resting on the surface. Directly across from this setup were two trapdoors, one leading down into the watchtower and a ladder to the second that opened up to the watchtower's roof. As Sitirus stopped by the desk, he noticed there was also a second door opposite from where he and the house guards entered that led to the other side of the battlements. He guessed this was the captain's room.

The first house guard grunted upon seeing the furniture, "Oh, come on, Captain," annoyed by its placement. "Don't tell me you're planning on making this your own personal quarters, now."

Captain Dranto did not look up from what he was reading, ignoring the comment from him but motioning for Sitirus to stand before the desk. As Sitirus complied, he examined the captain in detail while waiting for his attention. Captain Milren Dranto was rather clean-shaven and had dark hair styled in a military fashion without a headband tied around it. He also possessed the same red eyes and dark gray skin as other Dunmer, though the wrinkles were an indication of his age. Sitirus could not tell how old the Dunmeri knight was, although if he had to guess, Captain Dranto seemed to be in his middle ages, leaning closer toward later years if he could be specific, although because Dunmer could be centuries old, he could not narrow it down to a particular range. Captain Dranto wore a serious expression as he scanned the letter he was holding, ingesting its contents or looking for something important hidden within its text. He was also wearing a common brown shirt, though with a pair of ebony greaves and matching ebony boots like the armor on the mannequin. Although the ebony armor was a rarity among the town guard, his status as Captain of the Guard meant that he would be decorated with a fine suit of armor befitting his station. Even without wearing the full set, someone with intent to kill him might very well hesitate when facing a man with ebony armor.

Captain Dranto had yet to address him but Sitirus imagined his tone would have carried an air of authority as the Captain of the Guard and, by his guess, a veteran of the First Great War. He supposed the captain's tone might match that of an Imperial Legionnaire, a real Legionnaire Sitirus was nearly done posing as, but would not have been surprised if his tone was more like that of the Breton knights from High Rock or Redguard knights of Hammerfell. Sitirus had never heard what either kind of knight sounded like before, though he imagined they would have sounded similar to an Imperial Legionnaire or even an Imperial Knight. Just as he was about to open his mouth to ask for the captain's attention, the Dunmer sneered, "Hmph, criminal scum think they're so clever the moment we've taken our eyes off them," at the letter in a gravelly voice, "I'll see them all burn in the fires of Oblivion once I take his head from his shoulders and put it on a pike for good this time. That'll teach those filth not to mess with my town." He carelessly threw the letter on the desk and looked up to see Sitirus, asking, "This that Legionnaire from Cyrodiil?" inspecting the young man.

"Yes," one of the house guards nodded, "just came in this morning." As he replied, Sitirus noticed that Captain Dranto did not appear all that interested in him or what he had to explain. He assumed the guard had not told him the reason for his visit but must have said he was an Imperial Legionnaire to get the Dunmeri knight's attention. "Says he's come with a letter addressed to you."

"For me?" Captain Dranto queried as Sitirus fished the letter out of his pack. "Why would someone from the Empire or its Legion want to get in touch with me? I've already got a contact in the Imperial Province." As he spoke, his eyes fell upon the letter in Sitirus' hand, studying it for a minute before they widened in realization. Captain Dranto abruptly turned away next, cupping his right hand around his chin while murmuring, "Unless…" as if worried something only he knew of had happened. Just as one of the house guards was about to speak up, he whirled back to the young man, springing from his chair in such a hurry that it somewhat startled Sitirus. "You," he addressed Sitirus with an order, "give me that right now!" quickly snatching the letter before the young man could even present it. He held a finger up to gesture for them to be quiet while he unfolded it, then scrutinized its contents closely for whatever message he expected to find. From the way the captain read Luvir's letter, it almost appeared like he was trying to decipher some hidden code the Breton clerk wrote for his eyes only. It actually filled Sitirus with dread that he would suddenly reject his reason for self-exile or think he was trying to enter Rosgard illegally with criminal intent. He could not help but fidget uncomfortably as the Dunmeri knight continued to examine the letter carefully, holding it away so he and the house guards could not get a look at it, not trusting them to view the contents for themselves. Captain Dranto mouthed words to himself as he read it in haste, trying to find whatever he was looking for, before slowing down when it seemed his assumption was wrong. His expression went from a genuine fear to boiling irritation as he swore, "Damn it all!" slamming the letter down on his desk in anger before whirling to glare daggers at Sitirus and the house guards.

"S-sir?" one of them asked, trying to broach the subject with trepidation.

"This is what you imbeciles wanted to waste my time on?!" he shouted at them in a heated tone, adding, "Some exile from Cyrodiil!" while jabbing an accusatory finger at Sitirus as if it was a crime before retracting the finger to point it at the door they had not come through. "I'm supposed to be keeping our walls safe!" he continued yelling, "Not permitting exiles into our town!" pointing the finger at Sitirus again. The young man swallowed heavily, fearing that his request was denied. He did not speak though, allowing the Dunmeri knight to continue saying, "I legitimately thought that bastard's gotten to my contact!" while grabbing the letter to hold it up to them, presenting the contents so they could see why he was angry with them. "And that the Empire found out about it!"

The guards traded uncomfortable looks as the nervous one tried to say, "S-sorry, we—"

"You "what?!"" Captain Dranto cut them off. "Thought an exile was so important enough for me to divert my attention from the walls we're supposed to man?! What were you thinking?!"

"I-it seemed like a legitimate reason t-to—" the same house guard tried to reason with him.

"Did it?!" the captain interrupted him again, then jabbed another finger at Sitirus, shouting, "Does this man look like an exile to you?!" as if demanding an answer to the question. "For all we know, this man could be one of his men trying to trick us into letting him waltz right into our town so he could spy on our movements!" He glared daggers at Sitirus but continued to address the two house guards even as he called the young man, "A saboteur in silk dressed like one of the Empire's Imperial Legionnaires! A thief pulling his next heist! An assassin moving in for the kill!" Captain Dranto then stormed around the desk toward them with the letter in hand, demanding, "How would you explain that to the baron, huh?! Is his own house guard so incompetent that they can't even be bothered to try weeding out a single bandit from the citizens who're given access to the palace?!"

The same house guard whose eyes he glowered into swallowed, sputtering, "S-sorry—"

"Do not be sorry!" Captain Dranto ordered them. "Be better!"

The other house guard just openly sighed in exasperation, undaunted by the captain's wrath as he retorted, "Oh for god's sake, he showed that letter on both sides of the drawbridge, Captain!" while pointing at it. "It was written by Luvir from our Census and Excise Office. He even presented his papers to the clerk down in the barbican, and told the baroness that Maramka had escorted him to the office from the ship he arrived on." He held a pair of fingers up to add, "That's two witnesses we'll be contacting to see if they can vouch for him. If he was one of the bandits, he wouldn't have convinced either of them to let him through the gate or arrive by ship and disembarked by himself."

"And just where is that ship now?" Captain Dranto demanded. "What's it called?"

"He told the baroness it was called the Red Dugal," the guard answered. "Must've already left port by now because he said its captain had another passenger aboard bound somewhere else."

"Will its captain have a record of his passage?" the captain inquired.

The guard did not answer but looked to Sitirus, giving the young man a chance to speak up for himself. Sitirus swallowed again, not as heavily this time, clearing his throat to explain, "Sorry, sir, I am afraid not. As Luvir's letter implies, my passage aboard the Red Dugal was off the record."

"And what about this other passenger?" the captain demanded, addressing Sitirus this time.

"Somebody on business for the Empire," Sitirus found the courage to explain further. "His voyage was booked in advance of mine but the captain thought it was convenient to bring me here first." He clasped his hands behind his back, adding, "Technically, I was supposed to be in Taneth but requested she drop me off in Rosgard so she could bring him to his destination much quicker." He then held a hand up just as Captain Dranto was about to press him for more information, saying, "I am afraid I have to keep his identity, occupation, and destination confidential for the sake of his mission. It is an important one, and though he shared some of the details with me, I cannot in good consciousness or faith reveal what he divulged in case the Thalmor or another party finds out what that business is, especially with the still ongoing war. I can only say it is of the utmost importance."

Captain Dranto scowled at him for interrupting the inquiry with an evasive answer as if he was about to reprimand Sitirus for his lack of faith in Rosgard's town guard, but chose to accept it with a curt, "If you must," as he went to find a spot for the letter on his desk. Sitirus was unsure if he should have taken that as an opportunity to exhale the breath he had been holding since coming to Rosgard, though welcomed the relief it brought. It was only the first step though, so he remained at attention until the Dunmeri knight permitted him to be at ease. "But tell me this:" Captain Dranto requested while clearing space, "Does it have anything to do with the war or whichever side in it?"

"That depends," Sitirus answered. "It remains to be seen whether it is relevant and if so, if it will make an impact that favors the alliance or turns the tide in favor of the Thalmor, the fear of which is most pertinent. I cannot comment any further, though, for I do not want it to inadvertently fall into the wrong hands. Should the Thalmor or another party with ill intent overhear or somehow get word, I fear it could lead to catastrophic consequences that may topple the alliance as a whole."

"It always does whenever the Thalmor are involved," the captain thankfully agreed. "War's got everyone on edge these days, them included. No doubt they're buckling under pressure as they feel the heat while the noose keeps tightening. Who knows what they'll do to try and get out of us squeezing the life of their sorry hides? The more we bleed them dry, the more desperate they get."

"Which is precisely why I am remaining silent on that," Sitirus replied.

"They're not that blind and deaf, boy," Captain Dranto warned. "Neither's your Empire for that matter." When Sitirus responded with a puzzled tilt of his head, the Dunmeri knight continued, "What, the son of a disgraced nobleman doesn't know of his own empire's eyes and ears? You've just told us that passenger's spilled some of those beans. It's a little too late to go shutting up now that you've been given a glimpse behind the curtain. They've likely already got their eyes on you."

"That too," Sitirus admitted. He considered pointing out that the Penitus Oculatus no longer seemed to see the big picture as clearly and that some things went in one ear and out the other, but kept that to himself. Better to be safe than sorry even if it was putting constructive criticism bluntly. They might kill him or those he loved back in Anvil if he divulged imperial secrets, if they had not already. That last part worried him, though he tried to dismiss it as he asked, "You know of them?"

"Everybody does by now," Captain Dranto replied. "Thanks to Commander Maro screwing up their operations in Skyrim." He narrowed his eyes at Sitirus, asking, "You one of theirs, boy?"

"No," Sitirus answered with a polite dismissive wave. "Nor ever. As the letter says, I came as the self-exiled son of a nobleman trying to start anew. Would I have approached you if I was?"

The captain tilted his head in thought. "Maybe. We're allied, after all, though you probably wouldn't even say one way or the other. Specters aren't exactly the most open folk in the Empire."

Sitirus responded with a disarmed smile as he conceded, "Good point."

Captain Dranto glared at him in return. "Which is precisely why I should have you deported back to Cyrodiil," he retorted, catching Sitirus off-guard. The young man's eyes widened in reply, although Captain Dranto sat down and crossed his arms. "Unless you can convince me otherwise." He watched as Sitirus looked taken aback by the sudden reversal, saying, "Make no mistake, boy, I haven't approved of your stay quite yet. I'm willing to give you a chance or let you pass through but only if you prove you're neither a danger or a liability to Rosgard. If you've got something and we can make use of it, I'll grant your little motion," while holding up the letter to present it to him.

Sitirus opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself as he evaluated the situation. Captain Dranto had the advantage and could very well press it in his favor. The blade was just inches away from Sitirus' throat, close enough to land the killing blow. However, he chose to spare him instead and see what the young man had to offer. Taking that away was tempting, as he could simply reach a conclusion and be done with him. Persuading Rosgard's Captain of the Guard would not be easy, although Sitirus had risen to similar challenges before and felt he could present a compelling case. He already knew where to begin but just as he was about to, the more compliant house guard asked, "Is that really necessary sir?" interrupting him before he could even get a word out. "Wouldn't the Empire just send more in his place if he's one of theirs?" Captain Dranto turned to glare at him for inserting himself into the explanation on Sitirus' behalf. Sitirus turned to face him as well, although gave the guard more of an even look for it. He was actually going to raise that point in his argument but had yet to determine how and the moment when. The guard flinched under the captain's gaze, regretting having spoken up when he was not the one being addressed, though continued anyway, "I-I mean, it might be an imperial affair that could somehow benefit the alliance. Wouldn't that be a good thing?" He turned to Sitirus with an apologetic look but withdrew from the captain's glare.

Captain Dranto then turned back to Sitirus to inquire, "Would it?" tackling the young man from that angle first. Better to approach the response there, if only to determine if he was a specter.

The young man cleared his throat before beginning by saying, "It could be," as he explained the reasoning. "To his credit," he motioned to the guard, "he does have a point. Although we have just established that I am not an agent of the Penitus Oculatus, suppose I am for but a moment. He is correct in assuming that the Empire would assign more agents to this town if you were to deport me or in the event something else happens to me. Should deportation or another act committed by you against me be the cause, the Empire would have cause to order them to remove you from your station as Captain of the Guard by any means necessary. I do not think I need to explain that but I will say whatever actions they take and to what extent may involve the baron, his family, and most, if not all, of Rosgard." Sitirus pressed a hand against his chest as he then proposed before Captain Dranto could interject, "But should you choose to work with me, you would have an imperial asset at your discretion and disposal. I can assist with whatever task you assign me and get the job done."

"Would you?" Captain Dranto doubted him. "I don't give a damn if the Empire's got reason to send one here. I won't have one of their specters running all over town on one of their errands."

"You would not have to," Sitirus reasoned, "since I would be pledging my service to you," continuing the hypothetical. He folded his hands behind his back, adding, "I have not been ordered to come here. It was, again, a decision of my own volition. Were I an agent of the Penitus Oculatus, the Empire will, of course, find out I am acting of my own accord and dispatch agents to investigate why. Should they determine I have gone against orders or am doing something that puts the Empire or the alliance in jeopardy, they will extract me for interrogation and charge me for treason with a punishment the agency deems appropriate. While I would be the principal target, Rosgard will get caught in the crossfire. Its people may be forced into cooperating, otherwise the agency may deem them a threat to the Empire's security or the alliance. Even worse, the agency will view this town's people as loose ends to tie up before considering the case closed." Sitirus leaned forward to inquire, "I need not elaborate on that either, do I?" since Captain Dranto knew exactly where he was going.

The Dunmeri knight growled, "Are you threatening this town?"

Sitirus shook his head. "No, merely explaining what would happen assuming I am an agent of the Penitus Oculatus. Although, I would take it as a warning preparing you for things to come." Captain Dranto scowled but inclined his head in thought, cupping a hand to his chin as Sitirus then asked, "Tell me, Captain, do you really want to obstruct an investigation of that scale with the war still raging in Valenwood?" to make him think harder. "Even though the Thalmor are now losing?" When the Dunmer eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, he went on, "You could, in theory, but that would be both an act of defiance against the alliance and an open invitation for one of its participants to demand a formal inquiry, and we all know it would soon lead straight to you." Sitirus turned to begin pacing back and forth. "Questions would be asked as to why you denied an agent of the Penitus Oculatus access to Rosgard. The baron and even the King of Taneth will want to know why you turned one away. The Empire will want to know what you are hiding and why it necessitates secrecy. I am told that you have certain security measures in place around town, which you will have to justify to them, although whether they buy it is another story." He stopped to look at Captain Dranto so he could finish, "Needless to say, you are going to find yourself well between a rock and a hard place, Captain, with more than just your station and integrity at risk if the Empire determines you interfered with official business. The baron, and maybe the King of Taneth, might let you off easy, perhaps with a demotion or a discharge, be it honorable or dishonorable. However, the Penitus Oculatus will not. That, I guarantee, despite the fact that I am not one of their agents."

Captain Dranto maintained his gaze for several moments before turning away to huff, "So, I should be grateful that you're not one of their specters, huh?" getting a nod from Sitirus in reply. He rested his elbows on the desk to then ask, "Then what do you, an exile, have to offer Rosgard?"

"My skill as an apprentice warrior," Sitirus answered while approaching. "I admit, it might not sound like much, but I have progressed that far in my training. I also understand that I will not be able to join the town guard since I am not a resident of this town, though I can join the Fighters Guild or take on individual contracts around town while I decide to stay or go." Although he could have presented himself as a diplomat or a mediator based on his skill in speechcraft, Sitirus kept it to himself. He was not looking to stand out like that, not with his father around despite the distance between Rosgard and Anvil. "Rosgard could be the very place I can grow and learn from in terms of combat. There is so much potential I have yet to reach, so I hope my stay can make a difference."

The captain scoffed, "Will it?" in disbelief. "Or will you run from the first sign of trouble?"

"I never back down from a challenge," Sitirus insisted but then admitted, "but I try to avoid unnecessary bloodshed if it can be prevented. I find that a warrior should fight primarily in defense of another without intent to kill, although that is necessary depending on the circumstances. I also evaluate the odds of my success before combat and during the battle to determine how I can counter my opponent effectively and who should make the first move. I have trained with longswords, war axes, maces, and shields, and I am proficient in medium armor. I know how to work a blacksmith's forge, so I can repair my own equipment and that of my comrades, and I always carry leather strips, a whetstone, and a repair hammer on me at all times to mend it outside of battle and when it ends."

"Hmmm…" Captain Dranto considered the explanation while folding his hands in front of his face. He looked unconvinced but seemed to be weighing the pros and cons of letting Sitirus in. Eventually, he scoffed, "The guild's already got enough able bodied fighters as it stands," although finally relented with a heavy sigh, adding, "but I suppose sending one more their way won't hurt."

Sitirus smiled softly, asking, "Does that mean I can stay in Rosgard?" for confirmation.

The captain folded up the letter while waving him aside, replying, "Yes, yes, you can stay," handing it to one of the house guards with an order to bring it to the baron's attention later, before turning back to say, "Why not?" while folding his hands on the desk. "The guild could use an extra hand around town. They're still short-staffed because of the war, and you sound like just the recruit they're looking for." Captain Dranto then looked at the other door, explaining, "The king enlisted most of the kingdom's Fighters Guild to fight with his army on the frontlines in Valenwood. We've just gotten word that several of the ones from our guildhall fell in the line of duty not too long ago, so our hearts are with the guild in this time of loss." He returned his attention to Sitirus as he added, "Though more to the point, there should be a few beds available you can pick from if they've not filled them yet. Otherwise they'll let you join but direct you to one of their other local guildhalls."

Sitirus inclined his head with a frown. "Thank you, and my condolences for the loss."

The Dunmeri knight nodded in appreciation. "They'll be missed," he concurred, taking the time to lead a moment of silence in honor of the fallen before adding, "But moving on, it's a good thing they left some behind to help out around Rosgard, otherwise I'd have to stretch my resources much thinner than they are now. And I can't afford to waste a singer one, even if it's for the benefit of my people, not while Rosgard's under siege again. I won't have the first happen all over again."

Sitirus tilted his head at that last part, confused by the allusion because he saw no indication that Rosgard was being threatened. He would have known something was wrong if he saw an army or bandits attacking when he arrived earlier. Its people would have been panicking in the streets if the town suddenly fell under assault. At the same time, however, it alarmed him as he immediately knew Captain Dranto was referring to the Battle of Rosgard from the First Great War. He knew of it from history lessons on the subject due to Anvil's proximity to southeastern Hammerfell but also from a certain Altmer who took pride in being its hero to his Thalmor overseers. That was enough to make him worry for the town's safety, although he inquired, "Rosgard is in some kind of trouble at present?" thinking the Thalmor were not responsible this time. Since the Second Great War was currently being fought on their doorstep in Valenwood, they would not have been able to muster a force large enough to take Rosgard by storm a second time. They did not even have one to defend Valenwood. How would they have risen an army in tight circumstances, and in Redguard territory?

"It is," the Dunmeri knight confirmed, then looked up at Sitirus when he remained puzzled, saying, "You mean you haven't heard?" as if he had expected him to be aware of the predicament.

Sitirus shook his head. "No, I do not know what you mean. What should I have heard?"

"Angarion the Bold," Captain Dranto replied. "He's returned. You know him, don't you?"

Although Sitirus did not pale at the name, he flinched at its mention as he recalled, "I know of him, yes. He was the Thalmor's Champion during a tournament held in the year 4E 180, calling himself the Hero of the Battle of Rosgard. He was slated to fight against the Warrior of Rivercrest in the Imperial Arena for a chance to fight Cyrodiil's Grand Champion, Martius Silius, though was defeated at the eleventh hour." He folded his hands behind his back, adding, "After that, nothing."

He shuddered to think an Altmer such as Angarion was able to make it that far in the finals. Had he won, he might have stolen the opportunity to win justice for Blackridge, a former town the Grand Champion and his men butchered a decade earlier in 4E 170 for being unable to offer them food and shelter after they were ambushed by goblins. Ironically, the day the judges presiding over the trial said they would soon deliver a verdict on their crime was the same day the Thalmor came to deliver their ultimatums and a cart containing the severed heads of all the Blades who served in the Summerset Isles and Valenwood to Emperor Titus Mede II. The 30th of Frostfall, 4E 171…the Divines must have worked in mysterious ways for his trial to coincide with the Thalmor's sudden declaration of war and, a decade later, the seemingly inevitable fight pitting him against Angarion. Perhaps the extinct town had the Divines to thank for sending the Warrior to intervene on its behalf.

Captain Dranto confirmed it with a curt nod. "Correct, but it wasn't the only time he'd been bested by the Warrior." He stood from his desk again to approach the nearest window so he could look out while explaining, "Rumor has it that the Thalmor were quite livid with him for the string of defeats to a supposed Blade. In the span of several days, the man who singlehandedly won them the Battle of Rosgard became a laughing stock in front of all of Tamriel. As a result, they sentenced their own hero to execution for humiliating them time and time again." A cold breeze blew through the room, carrying with it a chill that seemed to travel down the spines of everyone present, though the captain remained unbothered. "Nobody makes a fool of the Thalmor and lives to tell the tale." He chuckled ruefully at the thought as if reminiscing, inquiring, "Wouldn't that have been ironic?" before shaking his head in disbelief. "But he could. If there's one of their own who does, it's him."

Captain Dranto suddenly squinted as if focusing on a specific point in the horizon while he added, "Thought it was too good to be true when news that he was beheaded got out, so I did some digging of my own. My findings suggested that he was carted to a secluded area somewhere in the Colovian Highlands but managed to escape over the border into Hammerfell. Trail went cold soon after, though I believe he went into hiding in the Dragontail Mountains until it was safe enough to emerge from the shadows. No doubt he's been emboldened by the Dominion's imminent downfall to come out of hiding, although I doubt he'll rejoin the Thalmor now that they're losing and since they tried to behead him. Instead, he's made his way back to the one place that brought him power and fame, where he made a name for himself:" he turned to Sitirus, quietly announcing, "Rosgard."

Sitirus' eyes widened slightly as he kept from swallowing. He hesitated to ask but had said he would not run from a fight, so he steeled himself to inquire, "Angarion the Bold is in Rosgard?"

"Not in town," Captain Dranto assured him, confirming that at the very least before saying, "Out there, in the wilderness beyond Rosgard, where he can freely take his time plotting the Second Battle of Rosgard from afar, without fear, while the king's army is away, thrashing the Dominion." He scanned the horizon for anything that looked out of place, as if his eyesight enabled him to pick it apart bit by bit to find whatever stood out. "This kingdom's a big place. He could be anywhere."

Sitirus tilted his head in thought as he agreed, "Yes, he certainly could be," but then asked, "But how do you know that it is in fact him and that he chose to return to Rosgard?" The Dunmeri knight whirled to face him with a scowl and stormed over to raise his voice, though Sitirus replied by apologizing with his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Forgive me, it is not my place to cast doubt on whatever evidence you may have collected. I simply meant that I find it hard to believe." He cleared his throat before continuing, "As you have just mentioned, Angarion the Bold no longer has the Thalmor backing him now that he has split from their agenda. He is on his own and cannot call upon their resources to help him reconquer Rosgard. He would need to find his own and raise an army from scratch, which would take years to train and discipline. Furthermore, this kingdom's people, including Rosgard's, know exactly who he is. Angarion is the Thalmor's Hero of the Battle of Rosgard, after all, and they likely heard of his achievements in the Imperial Arena thanks to his recognition. I should point out that Rihad's prince-in-exile, Dinahan al-Rihad, was a combatant in that same tournament. Although the Warrior defeated him in the Heroes Hall, his participation can draw further attention to Angarion, meaning that the Kingdom of Rihad may be aware of him too." Sitirus held up two fingers to add, "That is two kingdoms that will have a high bounty on his head, and can notify the rest of Hammerfell of his status as a wanted war criminal present in these lands."

He then folded his hands behind his back, clarifying, "I am not discounting the danger that he poses to the people of Rosgard, and this kingdom as a whole, given his power as an Altmer and accomplishments in the First Great War and the arena both. That I am wholeheartedly in agreement on. However, what I do not understand is how much danger he alone presents at this critical point in time, with the Thalmor and the Aldmeri Dominion falling apart as we speak. Also, why make a comeback at the very place he acquired his title as Hero of the Battle of Rosgard from? He is only making himself a target, daring you to stop him, which might admittedly be a trap if he is doing it intentionally. That said, he must be a fool to think reliving that achievement and the title itself are worth risking his life and pride for. I for one would reconsider, even if the war offered an opening."

Captain Dranto frowned at his evaluation of Angarion the Bold, then sighed and shook his head in disappointment. "You really have no idea, do you, boy?" he asked as if offended by Sitirus' logic. The young man was about to ask what that meant when the captain abruptly whirled toward the door to the other side of the battlements and ordered Sitirus to follow with a rather authoritative "Come," causing Sitirus to exchange looks with the house guards who merely shrugged in response but trailed after them. The Dunmeri knight opened it just as brusquely, leading the trio out into the crisp air that welcomed them with open arms while explaining, "You're correct that he's given up on the Thalmor's feeble attempts to overthrow all of Tamriel, but that bastard's still clinging onto his own brand of power. Angarion's running amok all over this kingdom, trying to seal it off from Rosgard so he can take this town in one fell swoop. He's the only High Elf from Arannelya's army who's able to invoke true fear in my people and has proven time and time again that he knows just how to wield it like his mace. He also doesn't even need an army of seasoned veterans at his back. With the king and his army off in Valenwood with the alliance, Rosgard's found itself under siege by bandits flocking to his banner from all over Hammerfell. They may not be tearing at our throats just yet, but they will be very soon. It won't be long before he relives the victory he stole from us."

"So, he has essentially become a bandit himself?" Sitirus asked while walking behind him.

"Obviously," the captain confirmed, although Sitirus doubted it was that simple. "He points them to plunder and they follow. He allows them to pillage however they please and they do as he says. He lets them violate this kingdom's people in the most despicable ways and they love it. And he shares the spoils of his ill-gotten gains with them in exchange for their undying fealty, as if he's become their king. No doubt he's promised them this kingdom now that it's been left vulnerable."

As much as Captain Dranto made Angarion the Bold sound no different from any ordinary bandit, the fact that Altmer was amassing what could have been a bandit army was terrifying. The situation seemed no different than Ulfric Stormcloak's usurpation of Skyrim's High Kingship and Velehk Sain's annexation of the Kingdom of Falinesti in Valenwood. With the Kingdom of Taneth undefended, it seemed like the kingdom would become another example of a reign overthrown by a power-hungry despot aspiring to tyranny. As a town in this kingdom and an important checkpoint in of itself, as well as the birthplace of his fame, Rosgard would be ground zero for such an assault.

However, Angarion's ascension to the thrones of Rosgard and the Kingdom of Taneth as a whole were not guaranteed. Bandits and marauders were greedy and lustful by nature. The promise of a bigger cut, women, and greater infamy often tempted them into mutinying against their leader. Sitirus did not think Angarion of all people, an Altmer who once served the Thalmor, could be an inspiring leader to them or the criminal underworld for that matter for that reason. He would have needed to account for that undying fealty Captain Dranto mentioned and find means to keep them in line. A single betrayal revealing the cracks in his rule could sow the seeds of his downfall. Also, they were not as disciplined and well trained as soldiers, so their defeat in combat was more likely.

Still, Sitirus replied, "That is worrying," because his speculation was merely conjecture. It did not happen all the time since some packs were more united than others. Moreover, the general chaos that could engulf Rosgard and spread throughout the entire kingdom required no leadership. He also wanted to keep the captain from going off on an unhinged rant against Angarion the Bold, for while he agreed the Altmer was a very real threat to Rosgard, he remained skeptical with good reason even though he kept an open mind. It would not help to make Captain Dranto suspicious of him. He had already convinced him he was not a threat and could be of use. If the Dunmeri knight suspected he was one of Angarion's agents, as he appeared to have before, Sitirus would probably find himself arrested and interrogated by him under penalty of torture or death; or the latter straight away, with his head on a pike or him getting thrown from the top of these battlements. Though he did not wish to make Captain Dranto any more paranoid than he seemed to be already, even if his concern was warranted and justifiable, he nevertheless asked, "But how can you be sure it is him?"

"Because of confirmed sightings I've received from around the kingdom," Captain Dranto answered, seeming to have anticipated the question. "My contacts across the kingdom assured me it's him and that he's announced his intentions to take Rosgard for himself. Even my contact over in Cyrodiil who's been observing Angarion's movements from that far off validated the evidence." He stopped to whirl toward Sitirus, although he was actually directing his scowl at the house guards behind them as he accused, "Although, it appears nobody else in this town gives a damn about the danger this one High Elf poses. They're too busy drinking themselves into stupors and running off on wild hunts after petty criminals, like the Thieves Guild, who've up and left town to escape that bastard's wrath." He and Sitirus watched as the house guards both flinched under his scrutiny, but while the more compliant one took a step back, the other who did not seem to respect the Dunmeri knight as much held his ground. Captain Dranto then inclined his head upward with a frown telling them off for their skepticism, though as he turned back to continue leading Sitirus forward, he did admit, "Few of them were there when Arannelya brought him and the rest of her army to our town in the First Great War. Even fewer who have seen what Angarion the Bold can do are left." Captain Dranto turned to face Sitirus while concluding, "I'm the last of those who experienced it in person."

He then turned back, leaving Sitirus to ruminate on that last remark until he stopped just at the end of the wall they stood on. As the young man stepped forward to stand beside him, Captain Dranto pointed at the distant wall ahead of them, on the other side of Rosgard. "You see that wall, boy?" he asked. "That's Rosgard's eastern wall, where Angarion fought against us in the Battle of Rosgard." He then turned right to the southern wall and explained, "And there's the southern wall, where Arannelya's army invaded from, following her conquest over the Kingdom of Rihad. While her infantry and cavalry spread across the region outside town, her navy that had been sailing over the Abecean Sea to the southwest arrived to begin bombarding our western wall with cannon fire," directing Sitirus' gaze toward that wall next before returning their attention onto the southern wall.

"While the battle raged, her troops guided the engineers and their siege weapons to the east and south gates," Captain Dranto recounted, "where they attempted to bash their way through with enough strength to break solid rock. Her battlemages, sorcerers, mages, and spellswords pelted the walls with powerful Destruction magic capable of rendering stone to dust in a matter of seconds." He looked at Sitirus to say, "Arannelya was trying to steamroll Rosgard into submission by forcing our walls to capitulate. She bore down upon us with so much pressure that we would have buckled under the weight of her siege had it not been for our own mages." Captain Dranto then turned back to the walls and went on, "With their Alteration magic, we were able to fortify the walls to such a degree that even her own magic could not penetrate them. Thanks to them, the archers and arbalests alike could rain arrows and bolts from the walls like a thunderstorm busy defending the coast from an errant tsunami, all from the safety those walls provided. Those of our remaining mages who've not been assigned to Alteration duty flung their own Destruction spells against the warships to sink them beneath the waves and stop their cannonballs midway, rocking the bay with such explosions Rosgard had never seen before. At the same time, we received word that the king would be arriving with his army from the north to relieve us by smashing Arannelya and her army into utter oblivion."

He sighed while reminiscing on the Battle of Rosgard, frowning as he relived the memories of fighting back against the Thalmor horde. Having to retell the experience must have been rather traumatic for him, though Captain Dranto had nerves of steel to finish getting through it. "Rosgard owes its life to these walls," he concluded while gazing at each one in appreciation. "Without them, we would've fallen in an instant. They were our key to victory, our ultimate defense, and could've been the sole deciding factor in Arannelya's defeat right as her invasion was picking up steam and taking lives." He approached a parapet to place a hand upon it, appearing to have just seen a ghost as he added, "It would've been perfect. All we had to do was outlast them. We only had to survive."

Sitirus swallowed, almost afraid to ask, "What happened in the Battle of Rosgard?"

Captain Dranto slowly turned his head to face him with a grim expression as he answered, "Angarion the Bold happened. Right as we thought we'd make it through the day, just as we were getting more confident in our walls, he'd gone and done something none of us ever expected from one of Arannelya's High Elves." He fixed his gaze onto the eastern wall, staring directly at it as if he thought something would happen there. Sitirus turned to observe it too, although he was unable to make out much atop it. The town guards patrolling it looked like stick figures moving along the background of a piece of parchment. "He climbed the damn wall," the captain suddenly announced as he pointed at the spot where Angarion the Bold suddenly emerged during the Battle of Rosgard.

Sitirus raised an eyebrow but did not question it. An Altmer scaling the wall was doable if there were stones protruding on the exterior side. He briefly considered the idea that Angarion had used a levitation spell to ascend the eastern wall instead, partly because it was easier than climbing, which itself was more time consuming and placed the climber at risk of losing their grip and falling. Since the Aldmeri Dominion was no longer part of the Empire, its provinces were no longer bound by the Levitation Act of 3E 421, which banned its use throughout Tamriel, except for Morrowind, so they could rely on the spell to their advantage. However, casting levitation also took time since the spell required a good amount of Magicka to maintain and to cast. Its caster also had to account for being under attack, which, during a siege such as the Battle of Rosgard, would have placed the Altmeri soldier at risk, making him an easy target for the archers, arbalests, and mages fighting to defend their town from Lady Arannelya's invasion. As unlikely as it was, climbing was the answer.

"I was there when the alarm was raised," Captain Dranto continued, "carrying more arrows and bolts to the defenders on top from the other side of the wall," he moved his finger over toward that end to show where he had been, "so I was one of the last he struck down." The captain paused to take a deep breath, struggling to determine if he should have continued recounting the incident.

Eventually, he found the courage to resume its horrific description, "Nobody ever saw that pair of hands appear on the parapet to pull himself over until it was too late. The closest guard who did never even raised the alarm, confident they could rush to stab Angarion and push that monster off to his demise. Big mistake, since the bastard used them to get over, throwing the poor guard to the wolves over the side he had just finished climbing. We never found out if they died from falling to their death or survived only to be torn apart by the rest below. Our only concern was that one of those beasts had just broken through our ultimate defense." Captain Dranto paused, taking a second to try and compose himself while Sitirus considered stopping him from continuing any further. He was about to place a hand on the captain's shoulder to comfort him but the Dunmeri knight quickly resumed, "I swear by the Divines in Aetherius and the Far Shores that nothing prepared me for the horrors I was about to witness that High Elf commit," to get it off his chest. He faced Sitirus while elaborating, "As the guards finally took notice and closed in, knowing we outnumbered Angarion four hundred to one, the bastard simply unslung his mace and shield and just started swinging like he was Molag Bal himself, with the Mace of Molag Bal itself. Some say he could have even been a mortal incarnation of the Lord of Domination or was possessed by Bal. Who's to say he wasn't?" He pointed at himself, saying, "I always believed he was, perhaps even one of the Daedric Prince's own followers blessed by him with such power the likes of which we mortals can only dream of." He then turned back to the eastern wall, concluding, "Nothing could stop him. Our weapons broke against his shield and armor upon impact like they were nothing, and the weapons that did remain intact reflected off him without causing a scratch. His mace, though, broke through ours too easily, throwing us into each other and scattering our crumpled bodies all over, on both sides of the wall." Captain Dranto sighed, reaching the end, "I was one of the last up to fall, one of the few to survive."

Sitirus shifted uncomfortably where he stood as he ingested the captain's whole story. The retelling obviously bothered the Dunmeri knight by forcing him to share it. Sitirus could not blame Captain Dranto for being angry with him for downplaying the danger. He truly believed Angarion the Bold was the biggest threat to Rosgard because the Altmer's daring climb during the Battle of Rosgard turned what could have been the town's victory into a defeat, a nightmarish reality. Sitirus did not have the heart to argue that Angarion was not as great a threat anymore or that it was some fool posing as the Altmer to intimidate Rosgard. He could not after seeing the captain nearly break down in front of him. Instead, he rested his arms on the parapet beside him to offer his condolences, "I am sorry for all the lives this town lost to him, Lady Arannelya, and the rest of her army during the Battle of Rosgard. What happened was one of the First Great War's many tragedies that should never have come to pass. I wish Rosgard could have withstood her invasion and routed her so you and the survivors would not have to relive it." He turned to face Captain Dranto, adding, "Forgive me for doubting you. I shall not question whether Angarion the Bold has returned to terrorize this town again. Although I will admit I still have my doubts, it was wrong of me to insist upon them."

Captain Dranto merely sighed. "No, you've got a point," he dismissed Sitirus' concern and looked up at the eastern wall. "Most of the people in town I've spoken with were just as skeptical."

"I am sure they will come around in time," Sitirus tried to reassure him.

"They should," the captain hoped, "otherwise they'll soon learn I was right the hard way." He turned away from Sitirus to watch the horizon, adding, "Like we did during the first one, years ago," before scowling, "Maybe that's what it'll take to show he's still around, plotting our defeat." Captain Dranto paused his reverie to look at Sitirus and tell him, "But in the meantime, kid, you've got yourself a pass. Might as well use it to see what'll probably be all that's left of this town." The Dunmeri knight then turned back to the eastern wall. "You've come at just the right time to watch."

Sitirus did not need to be told twice that the captain wanted to be left alone.