My Conscience: Get yo ass back to writing other stories-

My Self-destructive Ass: Nuh-uh. Post another story, knowing I'll get crushed by Pressure.

-Cultural Clash-

[To Helgen and Back]

[5E, 42, 15th of Sun's Dawn.]

Yet another relatively peaceful day in the recently rebuilt town of Helgen, Louise, the National Hero of Skyrim, the General of the Red Legion, War Hero of the Second Great War, and the Dragonborn among countless lofty titles, whose bright pink hair that gathered no small amount of stares from the locals swayed with each of her steps, let out a small hum as she walked down the beaten cobblestone path leading to the Snake Charmer Inn, the only tavern in town, intending to get a drink, more specifically, her favorite; Mead with Juniper Berries mixed in, developed by the late Vilod who tragically perished during that fateful day where the entire place was razed to the ground by the now vanquished Alduin, while she awaits for the carriage of the Imperial Legions to arrived into the settlement, transporting some prisoners that not only illegally cross the Border, but assaulted and nearly claimed the life of a traveler trying to reach Skyrim as well, an Altmer by the name of Olenmar.

As the Legate of the Legion's Branch stationed in Skyrim, she was informed beforehand of what had transpired in that particular event. Supposedly, Olenmar is a member of the recently established Guild known as the Clever Craft, serving as an organization to replace the now-disbanded College of Whisper and the Synod, who on his way to consort with his colleagues at Winterhold, came across a group of people, with rather interesting description regarding their appearance. In terms of race, Breton is what they have been identified as, with a Redguard among them. As for clothing, their garbs more or less resembled the kind favored by the Nobility of High Rock, leading to quite a few scouts assuming they were fleeing from the Provinces due to a court intrigue of some kind. Their overly-long names supported this theory as well, due to them being the sort of title only those of higher standing would have. Long, elaborated, and hard to pronounce. So much so that the Garrison that apprehended them did not even bother to write it down in the report.

Back to the matter at hand, according to what she could gather, when Olenmar crossed paths with this strange group, without provocation on his part, they immediately attacked him, flinging all sorts of spells at his way, coming close to gravely injuring him. Only through the combination of Greater Ward and gratuitous use of Paralysis Spell was he able to incapacitate them before any lasting damage was done to the High Elf. If only the surroundings could have that same luck. Soon after, he handed them to the local patrols that stumbled upon the sight, who after strapping enchanted cuffs that negated their access to their Magicka, immediately loaded all of them onto a series of carts, scheduled to head to this very town Louise was standing on and toss them behind bars until further order on what to do with them.

How nostalgic. Louise could vividly recall the time when she was in the same position, being transported to this same town, at the risk of getting her head lopped off her shoulder by the masked Headsman before a literal divine intervention saved her from experiencing what would have been her final moment, allowing her to escaped the destruction of Helgen and released her into Skyrim, home of the Hardy Nord, where she has been staying in ever since she discovers her destiny and her place in this world she found herself in. A lot has happened since she stepped foot into this Province, and numerous developments occurred that forever changed her life, through the highs and lows, up and downs, tears and laughter, and with it, the values she once held, which she was glad to have changed over the years, letting go of her narrowed-minded views of the world instilled in her from a young age in favor of her more cosmopolitan one, and she has the people of Tamriel to thanks for that, and she supposed this town as well, where her fate changed forever. And now, she has returned to it, for reasons not dissimilar to her situation back then.

Wished her task was a lot less dull though. Seriously. She, a General, the Dragonslayer, Savior of Nirn itself, tasked with escorting prisoners into their Cell? What were the higher-ups thinking, entrusting such a menial task on someone of her station? If this is what Tulius has to deal with every day, then he had the right idea to retire after the Second Great War alongside former Legate Rikke. If only she can do the same. But a duty's a duty. She cannot exactly just say No. The Oath was struck for a reason after all. Though she would much prefer a more important mission than this. At least her eldest son and her second-in-command, Blaise was willing to cover her spot in the court of Solitude while she was on the other side of the continent. Zenithar blessed that boy and his Dutiful Heart.

Upon exiting the Tavern with a cold bottle of Mead in her hand, Louise decided to rest her hands on the wooden railing, plucking the cog of the bottle and taking a sip of her newly purchased drink as she heard the nearby bell tower letting out a resounding ring, announcing the arrival of the Prisoner Caravan. A lot sooner than she has anticipated. Better finish this drink quickly before she needed to do her parts, and that is listing the names. The Empire always loved their Lists after all, she chuckled, recalling a certain Nord once grumbled about the same thing when she was on the receiving end of the registry. Hope none of these Prisoners are dumb enough to try to make a break for it like a certain Horse Thief. None of the Legionnaires are keen on demonstrating their skill with the Bow.

"General, Here is the list." Approached by a scout who marched toward her direction as soon as he saw her, the pink-haired woman was given the tome containing the names of the convicts. Let's see what we have here...Wait a moment...These names... Karin... Centurion... Kirche... Colbert... Tabitha... No way. There is no way...It couldn't be..."General? Are you alright?" Came an inquiry from the concerned scout, likely due to just witnessing the normally calm and composed Officer choking on her drink and coming close to spitting out the content inside her mouth the moment she laid eyes on the content of the book had she lacked the restraints to stop herself in time thanks to years of practice drinking with a certain Daedric Prince of Deubachery.

"Y-Yes, I'm doing fine. Leave me be for a moment." Obeying, though with no small amount of reluctance, the Scout folded his hands behind his back before departing toward the gate to welcome the Caravan, leaving the General to go through the content of the book again, her eyes darting through each line repeatedly to ensure she was not seeing things, and to her horror, she was not. Even though it has been over 43 years since she last saw these names, she could not forget them nor mistake them for anything else. One does not simply forget the names of your own parents who brought you into this world, your classmates, your hated rival, and the only professor who treated you with some modicum of sympathy and respect after all. Indeed, even over four decades since she ended up in Nirn, their names continue to linger in her mind and haunt her Dream every time she sleeps, where her mind drifts back to her place of Origin, of the crushing feelings of shame for being a stain to the prestigious Valliere Name, of the sense of guilty she felt for being a disappointment to her family.

Up until now, they only remained inside her mind, allowing her to live a relatively peaceful existence in this land she now called home, but it seems that the past has finally caught up to her, in the form of the source of all her personal strife coming to here, and there is nothing she can do to delay it. No, by the will of some Higher Being, most likely Molag Bal given his enjoyment of tormenting mortals, she is going to meet them again, the very people she wanted to forget and move on with her new life in Tamriel. With this new development, numerous questions sprung up in her mind, each one contributing to encouraging the growth of the dread inside her stomach, such as How are they here? Why are they here? Did they come here the same way as she did? But it should not be possible. She has destroyed the Spellbook needed for the ritual to transport the User to a different realm before performing it to ensure that no one follows her...Not to mention, why did they come here? To find her? It can't be, she was a disgrace, a black mark of her household, there should be no reason for them to do that. They would be better off with her out of the picture.

Unless...They wanted her back to resume the Marriage they arranged with Wardes? If that is the case, then To Oblivion with that! No chance in hell is she leaving behind the life she has built here for that bastard! Not only was she forced to enter a marriage with a man at least twice her age, but he could not even be bothered to visit her even once! She was happily married, had multiple children who loved her more than anything in the world, and found a place in this world that accepted her! As if she is going to abandon all of that! The mere thoughts alone were enough to send her to a silent, simmering rage, tempted to shred the book apart, all the while imagining the people whose these names belonged to were at her mercy. But she managed to refrain from going through with it. When it came to her job, personal feelings and professionalism needed to be separated, on intertwined with each other. Louise needed to be an exemplary model for the Legions, and getting agitated simply wouldn't do.

Breathe...Louise, remember what Kodlak has told you...'Let these polluting thoughts not blind your sights'...Good, her heart rate has stabilized itself. Time to go meet these ghosts of the past. Sealing her bottle of Juniper mead and storing it inside her pouch, Louise adjusted her decorative Cuirass, before heading toward the center of the town, just in time for the carts to arrive, whereupon these wooden vehicles, were the faces she had not seen in years, but forever seared into her mind. Karin 'the heavy wind', Duchess of the Valliere Family, former commander of the Manticore Knights, and her Mother. Centurion, the Duke, and her Father. Kirche Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst, a student of Tristian Academy of Magic, known as the Ardent, and her rival back at said Academy, Tabitha the Snowstorm, another student, one Louise could not claim to know, but it is quite Peculiar that she is here too. The same could be said for Guiche Chevalier de Gramont as well, as does his lover, Montmorency Margarita La Fère de Montmorency. Honestly, she had to pat herself on the back for even remembering them, and there was somewhat of a sense of vindicate, satisfying feeling in watching them all clad in rags as opposed those extravagant clothing.

Now then, what should she do with them...

"Get these prisoners off the cart. Move it! Step down, one at a time!" As soon as the horses settled, Members of the Imperial Legion mobilized to the heart of Helgen, positioning themselves near the entrance, the only escape route, guarding them to prevent any escapees, while several approached the carts, list in hands, ready to cross them out, one by one. As for Louise herself, she decided to close in on the one housing familiar faces, eyes narrowed with the Registry in hand, "I said, Step down from the cart!" Whether or not she was subconsciously using the Thu'um to enhance her vocal cords, she could tell, but she had no problem with it if that was what she must do to get these stubborn fools off the carts and silence their whining. However, she seem to have made a mistake in letting her voice out, as the innermost of the cart, her Mother perked up, seemingly recognizing her voice, even though he has long since grown deeper with time.

"Louise?" Should her ears not deceive her, Karin was sure that was the voice of her missing daughter. It was far more mature than what she could recall from the usual childish wailing of Louise, yet firm and loud, just as she remembered it. Could it be? Pushing through the rest of her fellow passengers, She hopped down the cart, hoping to see her daughter somewhere nearby, only to meet the spitting image of herself staring back at her with empty, unfeeling eyes that were sharper than a finely-honed blade, "L-Louise?" Even though her features had changed, deep down, the Heavy Wind Duchess was sure that the woman in front of her was none other than Louise. But those eyes, they feel so foreign.

"Z-Zero?!" "The Zero is here?!" "What?!" "Miss Valliere?"

"...Hello, Mother." Came a less than welcoming tone of Louise De La Valliere.

To be Continued...

Decide where Louise would bring the Group to next!