In Cyrodiil, where the Moth Priests had their Demesne, three of them read from three Elder Scrolls, each one describing events through one third of Tamriel. The first one read from the scroll describing events in the West, in Hammerfell and High Rock and New Orsinium. In a deep, magically enhanced voice, he described continued success for the young king of Hammerfell, and the rediscovery of the Ansei's arts in just several months, several months preceeded with good harvests, abundant trade from whatever commerce partners were left, and the continued success of the Ash'aba tribe in controlling the undead, before continuing on to describe events at High Rock, where the Moth Priest would then recite: Ada-mantia! Old Altmer of High Rock, raise high again the banner of the Tower of Balfiera 'gainst the Thalmor, and stand by Men once more! This was a proclamation by the Direnni Clan of the Isle of Balifera, the last Elven ruling family living on Human Lands, who lived near a tower where the Gods themselves had dwelt. The Direnni clan, though not perfect, had looked askance at what their cousins at Summerset Isle had been doing, and had now decided to make their move, declaring themselves a safe place for all Altmer dissidents against the Thalmor, as well as any adventurer willing to embark on operations against them. Not merely that, but should they have the assent of whoever claimed rule of High Rock at present, they would begin diplomatic feelers towards anyone willing to form an Anti-Thalmor coalition. New Orsinium, meanwhile, would stay quiet, its industrious people set upon rebuilding and fortifying against a potential Breton and Redguard invasion. However, outside this realm, the Orcs would continue to either be confined to 'strongholds', or be slaves in all but name to the Bretons. If nothing was done to mitigiate this discontent, something might happen; it might not happen now, or might not even happen for a full century, but oppressing other races has never worked out for both oppressed and oppressor in the long run. But enough moralizing; the First Moth Priest had ended his reading, and it was time for the second one to begin his portion, which this time, covered events in the Northern and Eastern Third of Tamriel. Skyrim continues to suffer, with Ulfric Stormcloak and General Tulius preparing their next moves, as constant skirmishing continues. As the war drags on, the cost is not just in human lives, but in livelihoods, as farmers are called away from their harvests, workers from their jobs, taxes continue to exact a toll upon the population, and trade is endangered. Bandits continue to multiply like flies, and the Forsworn continue their attacks... Morrowind, meanwhile, begins to climb its way back to a facsimile of prosperity, as merchants trade, Great Houses reestablish their power, and a push back against the Argonians is being pondered. Black Marsh, on the other hand, has begun consolidating, fortifying, and defending its domains, preparing for said counterattack by the Dunmer. And now it was the turn of the last Moth Priest, who would tell of the Aldmeri Dominion, and Cyrodiil itself. The Aldmeri Dominion continues to prosper; it is a realm of tyrants, where even the Altmer are stuck in a rigid caste system, where surveillance, even of thought, was omnipresent, where even on Summerset Isle itself, assassins, spies, and mages hold the land in an iron fist, creating an illusion of a false utopia where everyone was happy and fulfilled in their 'divinely ordered place'. Nevertheless, that does not stop the foundries and shipyards of the High Elves from producing new weapons and vessels of war; nor does it stop new recruits from adding their strength to the burgeoning forces getting ready for a renewed effort at expansion; whether it's the Cyrodiil or Hammerfell is unknown, all that is known is that the Thalmor had rebuilt their strength, and wish to make war anew. But in Valenwood and Elswyr, discontent can be felt. The Bosmer and Khajiit are united in one thing: The Thalmor had overstayed their welcome. True, they were promised superiority over Man, as well as given valuable places as auxiliaries in the Thalmor Army. However, this does not change the fact that unlike the First Aldmeri Dominion, this new 'Realm of Mer' was not a partnership of equals. This cannot be allowed any longer. And in Cyrodiil, the seat of the Empire of Man... The Final Moth Priest intoned, speaking of events happening at present. Amaund Motierre had been discovered trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood to assassinate the Emperor, and had been arrested, but the scandal had shocked the Court, creating discord between the Emperor and the Elder Council. Ironically, this event strengthened both the Empire and the nascent Res Publica, the former, because a retaliatory strike had killed off the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim, and the latter, because of the distraction it provided...

Azzhlan, High King of Hammerfell—or, of the Na-Totambu and the Ra Gada, to use the official title—pondered the scroll that he held in his hands as he sat in his study. It was a report from those he had tasked with seeking out the mysteries of the Ansei, and it was good. The project, though he hesitated to refer to it with such a dispassionate term, was progressing well, and the warriors involved were hoping for success in the near future. This coincided with the rumors that had filtered through of what the Moth Priests of Cyrodiil had prophesized. As usual, thoughts of Cyrodiil turned to thoughts of the Empire, and his expression soured. “Is there a problem?” Azzhlan turned his head to the speaker, one of his guardsmen—an old friend from his days in the Fighter’s Guild. “The news is good, Avik, but my thoughts turned to the Empire.” At Azzhlan’s words, Avik spat. “Precisely. It is maddening. I don’t doubt that we could take them, spent as they are in Skyrim, but we would need the whole of our might.” Avik grimaced, “And then the Dominion would pounce.” “Yes. Revenge should wait, I think. But the Empire will suffer for its betrayal, and it will be sweet in its coming.” Azzhlan sighed, setting the scroll aside, “Talib!” The High King’s personal aide, another Redguard lightly garbed and possessing a runner’s build, entered the study and kneeled. “Yes, my Lord?” “I have decided that we can afford to wait no longer, and I feel in my gut that things shall soon begin to move very quickly. Send word out that our current state of preparedness is to be maintained at the least, and heightened if possible. I shall leave it to the discretion of local governances whether or not to raise more troops, but the skills of every soldier must be kept sharp.” Azzhlan paused to allow Talib to write down what he had said. “Furthermore, I have orders for you that re more… covert, in nature.” “Whatever you command, my Lord.” “The Direnni are staunchly opposed to the Dominion, and I have heard tell that they are beginning to form a coalition against them.” Talib dropped his quill. “…my Lord, are you suggesting that–“ Azzhlan raised his hand for silence, “It I true, they are technically an Imperial Vassal. As many of my subjects seem to forget, they unofficially sent us aid when we were fighting the Dominion from our lands. As far as I am concerned, it is beneath their dignity to serve Titus Mede.” Avik spat again, and he heard several others through the open door, as well as the muttering of the guards stationed without. Talib’s face suggested that he would spit as well, were there not parchment in the way. “Nevertheless, the threat of the Dominion is far more pressing revenge for that grievous betrayal, and we will not forget to deliver it when the threat is passed. Perhaps,” Azzhlan added with a smile, “we could even help the Direnni draw all of High Rock out of the Empire’s grasp.” Grins spread on the faces of the three men within the study, and chuckling could be heard from without. “As well, send a missive to the Stormcloaks in Skyrim. Tell them that if they can take the Pale Pass, cutting the Imperial forces off from supplies in Cyrodiil, that shipments heading north may encounter an unprecedented number of pirate attacks. Furthermore, if they could secure means by which we could send them supplies without drawing the Empire’s eye, we would be more than willing to do so.” As much as he wished to do so overtly, discovery might draw the Empire’s eye to his plans with the Direnni, and potentially bring ruin to his plans in Skyrim. Azzhlan turned to Avik and nodded. The guardsman, who had been fidgeting with his weapon immediately stormed out the door and made sure the guards without knew not to spread what they heard. With numerous threats and much swearing. Avik had never been a gentle commander, but he had led the palace guard superbly. “I need not say, Talib, that these missive must not enter into Dominion or Imperial hands, sans the Direnni, of course. Though, it may be too early to speak of independence to them.” With a nod, Talib rose to his feet. “By your leave, my Lord.” “One last thing.” Azzhlan stood, crossing over to one of the bookshelves that line the walls of his study. “Our merchants have brought in news of something stirring in Anvil. Something to do with a book. I believe both are called Res Publica,” he drew a book from its place, a treatise attributed to one of his ancestors—but almost certainly written by someone else—on the history of Cyrodiil during the Interregnum, when some still called it Ald-Cyrod, “I desire a copy, and any information on the what’s going on that can be safely acquired.” Talib bowed, “It shall be as you command.” “You may go.”

Several men surrounded the large round table, Lucius among them. They were all differently dressed though it was clear many of them were of the merchant class. Lucius sat in his wooden chair with a grin planted on his face and his fingers twiddling each other in anticipation. He cleared his throat and, with a strong sense of authority, asked, “I count nine of us, including myself. I take we’re all here then?” The men all nodded or grumbled in agreement. Then, silence. Silence. Silence. Finally, Lucius spoke up once more, this time with more tepidness, “Well, I’m sure each of you has at least guessed why this council has been called…” The eight others went white in the face. “…An assassination attempt on the emperor’s life has failed. Furthermore, it seems a member of the Elder Council is responsible.” Sienna, chapter head of Res Publica in Bruma, spoke up with his usual intensity, “What does this have to do with us?” With an eerie calmness, Lucius shifted his eyes across all the men at the table. “Because the time to move is now. The Legion is weakening, spread thin from the war in Skyrim; Riots are erupting every week somewhere in Cryodiil; our numbers are bigger than ever; and the emperor and Elder Council are in strife. To sweeten our odds, Mede as no doubt been lulled into a false sense of security after killing off the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim.” Everyone sunk back into their wooden chairs, knowing what Lucius was about to say. Once again, it was Sienna who spoke up. “And what is it you propose?” Lucius cleared his throat and produced a map of cyrodiil. He laid it on the table and announced, “We have two major impediments to our beautiful republic: the emperor and the counts. We must deal with all accordingly.” Assisi of the Imperial City interrupted, “Surely, you're not suggesting we fight all the counts and the emperor!” “Hush, Assisi, and listen. It is true that we do not have the numbers necessary for open warfare; however, we do have other resources to throw the odds in our favor.” He ran his fingers over Skingrad on the map. “Let me make Skingrad an example. We force a massive riot to take place. The count, being the damned coward he is, will certainly barricade himself in his little castle whilst his guards deal with the chaos. With a few coins here and there, I’m sure we could bribe a few of the castle’s guards or servants to let a trickle of our men inside…” Sienna was to interrupt this time, “And then what? We kill a count and his family and then we sit back until the emperor comes after us!” “This is the most beautiful part though! We do this with each city on a single day. Imagine the emperor sitting on this throne when he hears that each of his counts and countesses has been overthrown! He be completely overwhelmed and surprised at the same time with no sure way to react. Of course, we won’t do this with the Imperial City… no, we’ll have to take a more direct approach with that city.” “Such as?” Lucius laughed, “Once we take the eight major cities and towns, we’ll move all our forces – maybe a couple mercenaries as well – and surround the city. No doubt that we’ll have help from the people on the inside as well.” Silence again. “So we're all in agreement?” More silence. “Excellent! We’ll strike in three days.” Though they all wanted to, none of the eight men dared to make an objection. "Now let’s move on to our next matter: the distribution of the book.” Opus of Bravil raised his hand to speak, “As our last council agreed upon, we’ve been trying to smuggle the book into neighboring provinces with the help of our merchants.” “Wonderful! Every man in Tamriel should have access to that book. Still, I think we should focus the spread of our propoganda in these provinces." He ran his fingers on the map over Skyrim, High Rock, and Hammerfell to which the men all nodded in approval. Lucius took a deep breath and peaked out the window to see the sun rising upon them. A new day was approaching and it was going to be a bloody one.

In the next meeting, three different Moth Priests would be selected to read the same three Elder Scrolls; the first three would be resting and recuperating, so as to avoid blindness. This reading was secret, as always; some among the Empire did know, but there was fear that taking advantage of the knowledge the Elder Scrolls offered would backfire and alter fate in the wrong way, causing greater destruction than if the Scrolls' knowledge had been left alone. Thus, no one bothered the Moth Priests as they narrated the results of Hammerfell's meddling in Imperial Matters. Their reaching out to Clan Direnni? It succeeded; the Clan were not amenable to seccession as of yet, but yes, they would welcome Hammerfell's support in their attempts at building a colation against the Thalmor. As for the Redguards' attempts to supply the Stormcloaks covertly, the latter managed to secure the Pale Pass, but were unable to find a route for the people of Hammerfell to supply them. This latest defeat gave the Res Publica their opportunity; when news of the defeat arrived, the riot in Skingrad, as well as other major cities in Cyrodiil, were larger and more ferocious than expected, and Skingrad itself was taken, along with four other cities in the Imperial Province, meaning that out of 'eight major cities and towns', only three, as well as the Imperial City, were left in Imperial Hands. Overnight, the Res Publica had gone from an organization held in ridicule into an organized nightmare, a threat to the very fabric of Imperial Society. Of course, Titus Mede II, despite his flaws, was no coward, and began moving to squash dissent in the Imperial City, arresting suspected Res Publica sympathizers, and even making an attempt to capture Antonio Salutati, the writer of the book that started it all...only to find that Salutati had escaped to rebel territorry, being forewarned by a friend. However, it was clear that the counterattack was to begin soon... In the meantime, the Aldmeri Dominion watched the news with pleasure, and began mobilizing for war...only to find discontent among the Bosmer and the Khajit at a high; it appears that any potential invasion from them might have to be delayed, and this delay might allow either the Empire or the Res Publica to win...

Azzhlan sat again in his study, reading a copy of the Res Publica that he had recently acquired. “It is quite an interesting read Avik. A nation with no Aristocracy. It will be quite the experiment. “Assuming that they defeat the Empire, and the Dominion doesn’t sweep in and take them out. Besides, the likelihood of them approving of your rule is all but none.” “Perhaps not, Avik,” Azzhlan turned the page, “but if things work out in Skyrim, and we can convince the Direnni to secede, it could spell the end of the Empire, leaving us to deal with the Dominion in peace.” Avik smirked, “’In peace.’ An interesting turn of phrase.” Azzhlan chuckled, “Yes, I suppose it is. In any case, without their little lapdog Titus,” Avik spat at the name, “they won’t be able to come at us with anything we haven’t handled before, and this time we won’t be alone.” “Unless they’re stupid enough to try sailing all the way around Tamriel.” Azzhlan broke into laughter, “If only, Avik, if only.” There was a knock at the door. Azzhlan set his copy of Res Publica aside, marking his place with a silk ribbon, and stood. “Enter.” Talib entered the study and knelt. “Speak.” “My Lord, Cyrodiil has broken out into chaos. The Res Publica have made their move, and now control much of Cyrodiil. And are now appear to be moving for the Imperial City.” Talib paused while his King broke out into laughter. “The incident seems to have been incited by the Stormcloaks taking the Pale Pass.” “Interesting news, Talib. Very Interesting.” Now the Empire could only supply or recall their legion via the Arecean Sea, taking them right past Hammerfell. “Have they managed to secure a supply line?” “No, my Lord.” Azzhlan sighed, “Send word to the pirates in Stros M’Kai, there is now a reward for the destruction or capture of Imperial ships sailing to or from Skyrim, with the greater reward for the latter, and proof required for the former. Extra rewards are available for ships containing information regarding Imperial troop movements, Imperial flags, as well as persons of importance in the Imperial Government or Military. All other cargo will be open for those who captured it to keep, but any prisoners and the ships themselves will be forfeit.” Azzhlan paused while Talib wrote down his commands. “Furthermore, the Stormcloaks are to be notified of any troop movements we capture.” Once Talib finished writing, he raised his head to speak, “Are we not mobilizing, my Lord?” “I know that the soldiers hunger to battle with the Empire, but we must be patient,” Azzhlan said, “This war is a matter of pride for the Nords, and the morale boost that will come from taking Skyrim on their own is unimaginable. Were the Res Publica not in the middle of their uprising, I would order a full troop mobilization, but as it stands, the Stormcloaks can handle the fighting themselves.” Talib stood, “By your leave, my Lord.” With a nod from Azzhlan, Talib left. Azzhlan sat again, and eturned to reading Res Publica

Morning… Lucius stood at the balcony of Castle Anvil, overlooking the crowd of Res Publica supporters. The crowd went silent when they saw Lucius and their ears all perched as if he were about to give them verbal gold. He cleared his throat and shouted out, “My fellow countrymen, for as long as it can be remembered, we have had to tolerate an evil plight known as monarchy! Under this immoral system, we were forced to say that men – or all races in fact - are not equal! No, we were told to obediently call a few ARROGANT families royal, divine, special, etc.! We licked their bootstraps as they dragged our sons and daughters into war after war! We paid their taxes and starved whilst they enjoyed every luxury available to mortal man! We gave them our loyalty even as they stabbed us in the back! And why!? Because there bloodline entitles them!? That ends today! From now on, this nation will resist the outdated, antiquated, fossil of hereditary rule under a new form a government, one where the people rule themselves - a republic!” When the short speech came to an end, the Res Publica banner was raised all along the walls of the castle, replacing the old banners of the count. The crowd roared with approval and Lucius took a moment to enjoy excitement. “Res Publica! Res Publica! Res Publica!” The chanting was almost euphoric to him. Noon… “What!?” The former legionarie muttered tepidly, “Y-yes sir… it seems Bravil, Leyawiin, Cheydinhal are still out of our control.” Lucius, seated within his new throne (formerly belonging to the count of Anvil), turned deeply red before a taking a deep breath. “I was hoping we’d take all the major settlements in one swoop… especially Leyawiin” “Why Leyawiin, sir?” “With both Anvil and Leyawiin, we could cripple Mede’s access to the sea. Now, however, the bastard can still send supplies and troops between his other provinces! Not to mention his land routes-“ “Actually, sir, if I may interject – it would appear that the Stormcloaks have secured the Pale Pass. Mede won’t being getting help from his forces in Skyrim anytime soon.” With that, Lucius went from boiling with rage to ecstatically joyful. “Hahaha! That’s perfect! Accept for Leyawiin, he’s completely cut off from the outside world!” “What shall be our next move, then?” He sighed and thought for some time before inquiring, “Hmm… what is the status of those mercenaries?” The officer produced a slip of paper from his pocket and squinted to read the text, “We managed to hire roughly 8,500 foot soldiers and nearly 1,500 mages. We’ve been orchestrating their movements toward Skingrad until further notice.” “Send the 1,500 mages and 3,000 of the foot soldiers to surround the imperial city. Make it abundantly clear that they are to let no one pass the bridges leading into the city. And I mean nobody… unless, of course, they carry the Res Publica medallion.” “And the rest?” “Send the remaining 5,500 down south into Bravil and then further down into Leyawiin. Considering the importance of this task, I also want a quarter of our Talos clergy to go along with them. No doubt the restoration magic will be necessary. Furthermore, get word to our friends in the other cities that they are to send any of the ex-legionaries under their watch toward the imperial city, along with any volunteers willing to offer their services.” The officer bowed respectfully, “I shall do as you ask… for the Republic.” “Oh! One more thing! Make it known to our supporters that impeding the emperor's forces is highly encouraged. Tell them to heckle legionaries, block roads, destroy any of their farms, or whatever it takes to make the Legion's day a little worse." The officer nodded obediently and left. Lucius licked his lips and counted the coins he’d been keeping in his pocket… Dusk… “Please! Please, don’t kill me!” The servant was practically bawling, surrounded by several of Lucius’ men. Lucius laughed as If the situation were less dire than it seemed. “Don’t worry… I just need you to do me a little favor.” “W-what do you want!?” He was shaking profusely. Lucius snapped his fingers, signaling one of his soldiers to present the head of the former count of Anvil. “I’m sure you recognize your former master, yes?” The servant whimpered and nodded with quivering lips. “Well, I need you to be a good little servant and take his head to the Imperial City. When you get there, I want you to deliver it the emperor along with a certain message. Tell him, ‘Surrender or you will end up like this man. You cannot win anyhow. Even the Elder Council support us.’” In reality, no one on the Elder Council supported the Res Publica, but the emperor didn’t know it. Considering one member of the council had tried to assassinate him not too long ago, it wouldn’t be too hard for Mede to believe. It would certainly hurt the already tense relationship between the emperor and council. “O-okay…I’ll do it.” Smiling with wickedness, he handed the man a Res Publica medallion. “Wonderful! Here, you’re going to need this if my men are going to let you past the barricade.” Lucius’ guards backed away from the freightened servant and allowed him to leave the throne room of Castle Anvil. He took one deep breath through his nose and sighed, “I wonder what it feels like to sit on the emperor's throne…”

Gam-Shei Rudsimwar Augusdesh has heard about the events at Castle Anvil. He always wanted to travel around but hasn't had the opportunity too. Now, he has a new problem. The great houses are talking about pushing against his own people.

"Why not the Khajits" he muttered, resting against a dead tree. He is worried that a leader will not rise up to unite his kind against any invaders.

"Yeah, maybe I should" he tells himself half jokily as he rises and looks into the dark pond not to far away from where he was sitting. He just picks up a stone and tosses it into the pond, thinking. Planning.

Valenwood and Elswyr

In the settlements of Valenwood and Elswyr, entire rows of houses burned as dissidents, their families, and entire communities were slaugthered by the assassins of the Thalmor, who were punishing opposition to the conscription and extra taxes needed for the coming invasion of the lands of men. While said Thalmor knew that this repression would only serve as a band-aid, not a cure to the problem of opposition, they hoped that the coming conquest of the realms of man would help stifle dissent and increase support.

Summerset Isles/Alinor

Several hooded Thalmor Archmagi, clad in robes of the finest material, and wielding sceptres hewn from the finest woods and gems, began a ritual that drew on the Altmer's magical prowess, in order to prey on the Redguards' weakness of being unwilling to fight the undead. Chanting words in High Elven, burning through reagents and Soul Gems, the Archmagi cast a powerful spell over Hammerfell, causing Draugr to rise, Mummies and Ghosts to come out of their coffins, and the recently dead to be reanimated. The Plague of Undeath had come.

Cyrodiil

"On behalf of the Rightful Emperor of the Empire of Cyrodiil, our ally Titus Mede II, the Aldmeri Dominion declares war on the subversive and heretical organization called the Res Publica, and ask all loyal citizens of the Empire to aid us!" This was the official line of the three Thalmor armies invading Res Publica territorry, and it was lies, all lies, meant to further bring oppoborium on Titus Mede and weaken his rule.

The three Thalmor armies numbered 33,000 each, heading for the cities of Anvil, Kvatch, and Skingrad, the current headquarters of the Res Publica. Their plans were simple; besige and blockade the cities, using Destruction magic to break down the walls. Not merely that, but Thalmor Agents using Illusion and Alteration would infiltrate the Res Publica forces, in order to kill off key commanders. However, Lucius CIncinnatus was to be left untouched, and should Skingrad fall, be allowed to escape.

At the same time, counterrevolutionary militia began mustering in the more conservative countryisde, harrying the forces sent to surround the Imperial City, where the Emperor was about to break out...

In Anvil, Gam-Shei would either be drafted to defend the city, or slip out before the Thalmor reached it and go adventure elsewhere; his choice.

Hammerfell and High Rock

After the Plague of Undeath had weakened them, Aldmeri Dominion ships would be sighted off the coast of S'tros M'kai, where the pirates were enjoying the booty of several successful raids. An entire fleet of 500 ships, which carried 50,000 people.

At the same time, the Direnni, having heard of the Plague of Undeath, would secretly offer to send aid to the Kingdom of Hammerfell, said offer including an ad-hoc battalion of Altmer Dissidents, Bretons, and some of the Direnni themselves, along with Scrolls of Guardian Circle and Turn Undead.

This offer came even though High Rock itself was being attacked by Dragons from Skyrim, led by Alunausbah (Ever-Suffer-Wrath), a Dragon who had denounced Paarthunax's 'Way of the Voice' as tyranny, and had left for High Rock with his followers, burning, looting, and killing as they went.

Ironically, the depradations of Alunausbah and his followers strengthened the Direnni case for a coalition, as the kingdoms of Daggerfall and Wayrest began to send diplomats to Balfreia Island, in order to seek concerted action as regards the Dragon threat...

"By Ysmir's beard, what is this?!" Balgruuf the Greater, Jarl of Whiterun sat upon his throne within Dragonreach, his eyes looking fiercely upon a scroll, held tightly in his hands.

"Is it news of Pale Pass?" Proventus, an imperial steward, asks. "The Greymane's report it was taken by the Stormcloaks."

Hrongar, brother to the Jarl and a thane of Whiterun steps forward. "With the Pale Pass under the thumb of the Stormcloaks, Ulfrik will only become more bold!"

Balgruuf snorted. "Ulfrik wouldn't dare attack us, not even now."

"Maybe," returns Hrongar. "But no doubt he will once again demand our allegiance."

The jarl waved a dismissive hand. "Let him, my answer remains the same." Balgruuf studied the scroll for a moment before speaking. "News of unrest in Cyrodil. Our only chance against the Thalmar is a united Empire, and this Res Publica threatens that. The Aldmeri Dominion now poised to invade, and thanks to the Stormcloaks, a legion is trapped in Skyrim."

"We should march to Pale Pass, clear a path for the Legion," Hrongar suggests confidently.

Balgruuf shook his head. "I will not bring war so eagerly upon the hold, weakened as it is in wake of the Dragon Crisis."

"What would you have us do, my Jarl?" Asks Proventus.

"Draw up a letter to General Tullius, I will write Ulfric. We must negotiate a white peace so the Legion may return to Cyrodil, to fight Res Publica."

"Peace?" Hrongar doubted. "You really think Ulfric will go for that?"

"Why shouldn't he? The Legion is Ulfric's greatest obstacle to claiming the crown. Only the Jarls will stand in his way."

"And what of us? Where will we stand."

"With Whiterun and Skyrim." The braziers of the hall of Dragonsreach burned bright as Balgruuf stepped off the throne, taking a seat by the warm hearth. Cool mead and flanks of charred boar meat were served on a bed of grilled leaks. With his children the Jarl ate heartily, enjoying the peace while it lasted. Though he knows full well...

Peace in Skyrim is always fleeting.

A breath in. A breath out.

Azzhlan had his elbows resting on the table before him, his forehead resting on his clasped hands. Inside, Azzhlan was furious, but he was intent on maintaining his self-control. It was one thing that the Dominion had sent ships to invade. It was earlier than expected, but it had been expected. The invasion upset him, but it was not what had inspired his rage. They had used their fell magics — and the perfect timing with the invasion guaranteed it was no coincidence — to raise the Honored Dead of Hammerfell. They had unified the two things most averred by his people to weaken them. For the first time in years, he had seen his father walk the earth, and it had disgusted him. It was a stroke of luck that the Ansei of old had either not been risen, or simply had not brought their mighty weapons to bear.

A breath in. A breath out.

A visiting ruler — come discuss other matters before the Dominion set their plan into motion —from Riverpoint in the east of his realm, was the first to speak. “My Lord, what shall we do?”

A breath in. A breath out.

“Every levy from every corner of the realm must be brought to bear.”

“Is it truly wise to put all of the soldiers against the Dominion at once?”

“They will need to establish a base of operations for their invasion. Existing structures are the most useful, so port cities are the optimal targets. “ Azzhlan gazed down at the map before him. The question was how far north the invaders were willing to go. Rihad, being the furthest south, was also close to the fighting with the Res Publica, which had advantages in flexibility, but they knew the tenacity of his people from the last war, and would no risk being distracted by one of their two enemies. Roseguard and Taneth were further north along the same coast. Taneth, being larger, was better defended, but movement from Roseguard was restricted by the Corten mountain range. If they traveled any further past Hnes Rex, it would be clear that their target was Gilane, but the obviousness — and lack of anything significant beyond its port and population — made that target unlikely. They could always make landfall on the coast near Hegathe, and move to take it by land, but then they would need to move their troops through the Alik’r Desert. Beyond that, there was only Sentinel itself. As the historical and present capital, Sentinel was amongst the best defended cities in the realm, and the furthest distance away from the invaders, which would give htem the most time to prepare.

Wait. Moving over land would make Gilane more plausible, and it is close to open shore than Hegathe. Or perhaps they think their troops fighting the Res Publica would be enough to keep those idealists busy, making Rihad a reasonable choice. The Forebear stronghold has been taken by the Dominion in the previous war, and while restricted by the Corten mountains, was nowhere near the nightmare of Roseguard.

“Either Rihad, or Sentinel.” The two most likely candidates, by Azzhlan’s estimation. That, in turn, posed a new problem: the two cities were on opposite ends of the realm. The entire army could stand against the Dominion, but it could not do so when split in half. Sentinel, being the capital, was tempting, but the Dominion was sure to know that Rihad would be significantly harder to reinforce, and to funnel supplies to.

“I consider Rihad the more likely of the two, but it cannot be certain.” After a pause, Azzhlan continued, “There will come a point where their destination is clear. The forces shall be marshalled at Taneth. After they sail past Stros M’Kai, the force shall follow them; to Rihad if they sail east, to Sentinel if they sail west.”

“What if they attempt a feint, my Lord?”

“On a ship? Their supplies are limited, and morale suffers on board a ship like they are. They will not feint, it would take too long.”

“What if they would make Stros M’Kai their base of operations?”

Azzhlan responded quickly and sharply. “We cannot fortify Stros M’Kai in time, and so must accept its potential loss. Besides, while I do not doubt they will take it at some point, the port is not large enough to hold their ships, and it lacks the fortifications or supplies to house or feed an entire army. It is a small island, after all.” At these words, aides were sent off from the room, including Talib, to rouse the armies of Hammerfell to defend against the Dominion once again.
“Everyone in this room has something to do. If you are visiting, return to your home, and make ready for war.” Standing and turning to leave, Azzhlan could not suppress a smirk. At this moment, a full battalion of fighters had come from their homes to aid him, along with the promise supplies. He had sent them off to aid the Ash’abah in dealing with the risen dead. He doubted that was what they had expected, but there were far fewer options for dealing with the undead threat, even if it was less of a threat than the Dominion. Besides, they were sapping morale and supplies throughout the realm, making the Dominion that much more difficult to deal with.

Avik fell into step next to him. “What would you call a chances?”

“Good, with the gods on our side.” Azzhlan said, “So long as Ruptga and HoonDing are with us, this long hard fight will end well.”

Wood creaked as the caravan moved through the lands. The ground shook with each step the mammoths took. The ground crunched beneath each step, as calculated as each was. These beasts were massive creatures and one false step could lead to hours of recuperation for a mammoth. If said mammoth didn’t die in some strange twist of events. Ilthallan had joined up with a few other travelers and wrote in his book.

“Il!” Someone yelled as they came running up. His cart was the fourth or fifth in the line of the caravan. Each was chained and tied to another. There was some kind of magic that allowed each to follow the lead cart. His horses were tied on leads to the back of his cart, although he hadn’t needed them in weeks. “What is it?” He said standing up alert.

A girl, well a little girl to him, came running up to his cart. Zenotha was someone he saved from bandits. She was a slave and he freed her. She wasn’t really that young compared to him but she acted like she needed someone to watch over her. “What is it Zenotha?” He asked curious as to why she was running to his cart. “I told you, you are free to do what you like.”

“I want to be by your side!” She yelled over the noises of the caravan and loud enough for everyone else to hear her. “Come and sit then.” He said as he reached down to her helping her up into the seat. She grasped his hand and almost flipped into the seat. It seemed that she didn’t require his help and did these things, on occasion, to make people believe she and he were lovers. He grumbled and sat down looking into his book.

“What are you reading?” She asked as she moved close against him. He tried to move away but that only made her move closer. He could feel her breath on his neck, goosebumps formed as the hairs stood on end. She was quite beautiful but he couldn’t take advantage of someone or have them interfere in his plans. He wouldn’t…

“If you must know I was drawing the caravan. Each and every person.” He admitted as he handed her a picture of herself. He had gotten a still image of her burned into his head when she was standing on a hill. In the drawing she seemed like an entirely different person. Confident and proud. Perhaps that is how he made her feel.

“Wow, this is me?” She said looking down at the image and pointing to herself.

“It’s how I see you sometimes.” He acknowledged as he took it and placed it into a satchel. “You are fortunate that I was there when those slavers were attacked.” He said changing the subject. Her face wrinkled in the cutest was as she crossed her arms. “Those assholes!”

They exchanged a few more conversations and she professed her love to him… yet again. “I have told you I...” She stopped him from speaking by placing a finger on his lips. “I’m a persistent woman.” She reminded him and he rolled his eyes. “I can’t have a woman slowing down my business.” He said and started to cross his arms, he looked like a little kid pouting. Her face began to tear up and this is where she always cut him down.

“Please… anything but that.” He said… said anything… “Gah!” He thought as he noticed her face smirk. “Anything?!” She asked excited. “Then tonight we get married before the gods.” She explained as if it were final. He was going to protest but decided that shutting his mouth may save him. He looked at the town of Whiterun. His caravan was moving closer and they could see a group of Giants. These Giants were moving along a group of Mammoths.

“BUNNY!” She exclaimed almost blowing his eardrum, as she spotted a bunny. Sure enough there was a bunny but sadly the caravan had taken it that she would spot the food and they would hunt it. Il could hear a string being pulled and with a wave of his hand the bunny vanished. “You know that they use you to kill the cute animals’ right?” Il said as he looked at her. She let out a smile knowing he only wanted her happy.

“Why I didn’t know you cared.” She said playfully blushing slightly. “You know that if we marry you would only be the first, right?” He asked playing his own game. Her face got red as she thought of them being married. “I didn’t think I would be enough to please you anyways.” She admitted as she held his hand. He didn’t mind holding her hand, he actually found her warm and sunny. This land though is sunny and cold as a frost giant’s tit.

He actually moved closer to her while they approached the city. All the food he had was from other lands and probably should have gone bad but didn’t. Luckily for him Zenotha was an able spell caster and had placed an enchantment on the food allowing it to stay fresh for longer. He laid her head against his shoulder and let out a sigh.

“So is this a yes?” She asked him while holding onto his chest. “We don’t even know one another all that well. Rushing into something like marriage is sudden. I feel like you do have feelings for me but I have just recently lost some loved ones.” He admitted as he looked at her. He had never spoken of his past to her and she looked waiting for more of it.

“My mother and father were my world. They taught me how to live. But a few months ago they were taken from me. Someone said that they were dabbling in forbidden magic and they were executed. Apparently they had mountains of evidence and took them to be made an example of.” He said as he looked out to the mountains. His eyes weren’t focused on the mountains but on the memory.

“Now I’m here trading goods to make a living. If you want to be with me I want to know more about you as well.” He said as he looked back at her. He wrapped his arm around her to keep her warm. A blanket was wrapped around them both and she let out a sigh. She obviously didn’t want to share anything about her life but didn’t want to press him any further. Finally they reached the outskirts of the town.

In the besieged Imperial City, the Moth Priests would once again make their prophecies:

Ulfric Stormcloak would agree to a White Peace, allowing General Tulius and his Imperial Legion to move south to engage the Res Publica, who had been prepared for him. This, of course, would finally leave Whiterun and the Pro-Imperial Jarls isolated, and the Stormcloaks would begin to make preparations for taking the rest of Skyrim...including Whiterun. Of course, the Dragonborn had retired at Breezehome, but would send word to the Jarl that should Ulfric move towards the City, that he would take part in its defence. In the meantime, however, the departure of the Legion would further embolden the bandits and the Forsworn, the latter who, even with the loss of Madanach, still carried on their rading and looting.

In Hammerfell, the Aldmeri Dominion forces would make for Sentinel, but only after sending a small force to take S'tros M'kai and turn it into a support base. The Invasion Fleet would then land 40,000 men on the outskirts of the city, which would begin drawing up siege lines, while the ships, as well as the remaining 10,000 people, will move to engage the Redguard Navy, attempting to use Destruction Magic to stir up tornadoes and waterspouts to try and destroy as many enemy ships from range as possible. In the meantime, the Landing Force would increase their numbers by summoning Artonachs and other Lesser Daedra, increasing their numbers from 40,000 to 44,000. Then, they would attack.

"Stand, Men and Women of the Res Publica! This will not be the Graveyard of Freedom, this will be the crucible of our beliefs!" shouted Lucius Cincinnatus as Skingrad, paradoxically, stood against the Thalmor. "The Aldmeri Dominion have proven that they and the Empire would stand with each other; their own words say that they come on behalf of an Emperor who cannot even defend his own lands! Stand, Men and Women of the Res Publica, stand!" But despite his words, news had come in, shortly before the Moth Priests had begun the latest round of prophecies, that Titus Mede II had broken out of the Imperial City in conjunction with the New Imperial Armies arriving from the North. It seemed that the Empire would not fall so easily...

...If not for the fact that, in breaking out of the city, the Emperor had fallen off his horse, breaking his neck and his skull. This was welcome news to the Res Publica, who, using the Butcher's and Tanner's and even Painter's Guilds as their proxies, launched their own bloody rebellion in the Imperial City itself, gutting the remaining Imperial Armies, breaking the morale of the counterrevolutionary militia in the countryside, and giving a turnaround of fortune to the nascent Republic. However, with Cyrodiil in chaos, the Thalmor Invasion, should it succeed, would find themselves with immense opportunities, meaning that the fate of Cyrodiil, and perhaps Tamriel, would rest in the hands of the Southern Imperial Holds.

"Allied Powers of High Rock! We are pushing back against Alaunausbah! He is not broken, but we are unbowed!" were the cry of the Direnni Coalition as they scored several successes against the Dragons, each success securing more allies to their side. At the same time, however, the prime objective of their coalition, to drive back the Thalmor from Tamriel, would not be forgotten; with them sending another offer of aid to the Kingdom of Hammerfell, with the Kingdoms of Wayrest and Daggerfall joining their names with the Direnni in their offer, which included a larger force of 'volunteers', and more Anti-Undead, Anti-Daedra scrolls, or, if the King of Hammerfell was too proud to accept these offers, a small trickle of money from High Rock's merchant houses.

Dragonsreach, Whiterun

---

The court of Jarl Balgruuf smelled of burning pine and was warm compared to the windy cold of the plain city outside. In attendance was Balgruuf's court, his brother and thane, Hrongar, his steward Proventus, the court mage, Farengar Secret-Fire, and Irileth, Balgruuf's personal housecarl. Also in attendance are the city's most influential citizens, chief among them Olfrid Battle-Born and Vignar Greymane.

Earlier that morning, an officer bearing a sealed message from Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak arrived, causing a stir among the citizenry of the capital. Rumours abound that war is coming to Whiterun at long last, and many followed the messenger to Dragonsreach to hear the Jarl's decree.

The Stormcloak soldier stood proudly within Dragonsreach, before the Jarl as he studied the letter from Ulfric. Balgruuf read the scribbled words of his rival over several times. The route of the Legion had emboldned the Windhelm Jarl, and now his message was clear, join the Stormcloaks or perish.

Balfruuf slowly rose from his throne. "Such a grave messaged deserves to be voiced by Ulfric himself, yet he sends you in his stead."

"I am trusted among Jarl Ulfric's counsels, and speak with his authority," the emissary returned curtly.

"There is only one who speaks for Ulfric, a fact you would do well to learn." Balgruuf sighed as he handed the parchment to Proventus, who read it with alarm. "With the retreat of the Legion, we cannot fool ourselves that this is a war against the empire. Make no mistake, it is Nord blood that is being spilled across the land. The Empire lays broken to the south, the Thalmar consolidate their power and threaten all, and this damn war persists. With the retreat of the Empire, let it come to an end. Return to Ulfric and tell him that I will pursue one last path for peace. If he will accept, I call for a Kingsmoot at the sacred grounds of High Hrothgar! The Jarls will decide who shall rule Skyrim, not the whim of one man. If your lord denies this last call for peace, then Whiterun will stand against him."

The court exploded in a rush of voices and debate. The Battle-Borns applauded the Jarl while the Greymanes jeered loudly. Balgruuf resumed his seat, stone faced and sober. As the attendees of his court argued, he turned to Hrongar in a hushed tone. "Call the banners, war has found us, I think." Without a word, his brother and heir left the hall.
With fiery eyes, Balgruuf observed the fighting within his court.

Like all across Skyrim, this war pits brother against brother, even in my own hall.

As their caravan grew closer to the town the guards stopped and asked for paperwork for each merchant. Although all the paperwork seemed to be the same, somehow they could tell a fake from a real one. They arrested two men from the back and took them in. “These goods belong…” The guard started to say. “To the merchant guild.” Il piped in.

“These goods were purchased by the caravan and mostly me, Ilthallan. I would see it as robbery if you and yours stole what I rightfully purchased. Those men worked for me but they will probably deny it. I hired them under the assumption those guild marks were legitimate. Unlike you and yours I cannot identify counterfeits.” Ilthallan explained as he got into his pack. He had drawn up contracts for each person on the caravan and made sure that they were legitimate.

According to the ledgers he displayed he was actually the caravan lead or master or whatever the caravans called them. Another man in the lead, a Nord, walked up and took the papers. He handed them to the guards and Ilthallan sat back down. “Most of these goods were purchased by that Altmer.” He admitted bitterly but was acting as lead of the caravan because Nords were better reviewed in these lands.

Ilthallan had done this exchange in the past but last time he lied through his teeth and convinced the people that the caravan was indeed his. After that point he went into the merchants’ guild and got the required permits. Taking over the caravan was simple and saddened him because a lot of his friends died. It was one of the reasons he didn’t want to get close to Zenotha or the others. He didn’t even know their names until he overheard the guards calling them out.

“You actually work for this… Elf.” The guard emphasized on the word elf like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Sadly I do.” Replied the man as he handed the papers back to Ilthallan. Zenotha took them and placed them back in his bag. “Too many of your kind in this area if you ask me.” The guard said to Ilthallan but he ignored him making it look like he was talking to his “second” The Nord man. The guards face became reddened as he started to say something else but stopped himself. With a hand he waved the caravan through and Ilthallan only smiled as Zenotha snuggled next to him.

Something felt off about Zenotha, like she didn’t belong. He didn’t know why he thought that but would keep her close. If she thought that he would stay with her and keep her happy… then he would act like it. It felt as though she was hiding something life altering and he didn’t like when people endangered his life. If she was hiding something from him he would figure it out. But for now he would enjoy her warmth. The carts weren’t allowed to actually enter the city but had to circle the outer gates.

For what seemed like hours the caravan sat and bartered with the townsfolk. Ilthallan left the bartering to the folk that resembled the people of the province they were in. He walked through the town with Zenotha on his arm. She was extremely clingy and it kind of looked as if they were a married couple. He wouldn’t fight against those thoughts. In fact most people responded better to a married couple than single people. Perhaps it was because they found someone and trusted them. He looked around the town and pulled out some coins. He handed them to Zenotha and asked her to order them some food in the tavern. She looked at him confused but didn’t ask questions and did it.

After she left he walked around a corner and stood there for a while. He was observing the people walking around the town and eventually blended into the building he was standing next to. People wouldn’t notice him standing there unless they bumped into him. His eyes still watching the townsfolk, how they walk, how they spoke, even the way they breathed in and out. After about an hour of this observation he walked around a corner and noticed someone following him. He was to place his magical ring on before they round the corner though. When they did they saw a massive Nord man standing in their way. “Get out of the way Elf…” He said as he walked off. “Always walking around like they own the streets.”

He recognized that elf… it was Zenotha. Perhaps she was worried and looking for him, he did send her for food hours ago. Although the way she found him and how quickly she was there was terrifying to him. It was as if she was following him for some time. Lucky for him this ring changed the appearance of his clothing as well. Although it wasn’t a quick change… he had to study the race and form a person in his mind. It took years for him to train himself to take on another person’s form, even longer when he could make up his own.

“Ey there how are things going around here?” He asked in the thick accent of this area.

“Aye? The damn Stormcloaks sent a messenger with something about the war. Looks like the Imperials are all moving out. Although I have lived in this town all my life. So I decided to retire from the Imperial armies. Even though it was a pain in my ass to join. Know how hard it was for me?” He asked.

“Probably cost you, your first unborn.” Ilthallan joked. The man responded with a slight smile and started to walk. Ilthallan didn’t hear him say to stop and followed him. He found himself at the tavern. He and this man entered the tavern and started to drink some mead. After about a half hour Ilthallan thanked his new friend and left. “Wiffshhh gooinn taa kiillll meh.” Ilthallan said as he stumbled out of the tavern. In truth he wasn’t drunk but knew how to act like he was.

He stumbled down the stairs and passed by Zenotha on his way down the stairs… head first. She ended up catching him with surprising strength and speed. “Thankssshh ifsh there weren’t four of you I would have hit the groundd…” He said as she helped him to his feet. He patted himself down and belched loudly. She looked at him a bit disgusted and entered the tavern. After that he made his way to an area where people weren’t looking at him.

He focused on his form in his mind knowing what he looked like. His form melted a little and his hair resumed the same looked he had before he turned into the Nord. He had that feeling that someone was looking for him again and he laid on the ground. His eyes closed and he waited… the steps got closer and sounded like they were from someone big.

“Elf get off the ground. If you want to sleep go back to the Shimmering Isles.” A guard said and Zenotha came running up behind him. “E-eexcuse me!” She exclaimed as she ran past the man. Ilthallan looked at her with a smile. “Oh no she found me again!” Ilthallan said playing with her. The guard looked somewhat confused for a moment. “I thought for sure I would get some rest being here… sadly that won’t ever happen.” He said and the guard rolled his eyes. “Get off the ground and take your tramp with you!” The guard said yelling loud enough for everyone in the area to hear.

“Tramp? Is that an insult?” Ilthallan asked as he looked at the guard. Ilthallan started to get on his feet, smile still across his face. “You don’t look like a guard for this town. Most wear the town’s insigna on their uniform, or somewhere. So you work for a powerful family?” He asked as he did the man’s face filled with anger. “If you attack me now I have witnesses that will vouch for me… when I kill you.” He whispered the last part so that only the man could hear it.

In a rage the man flew at Ilthallan who cast a spell he had been holding. In that instant he vanished from sight. The man’s fist hit air and Ilthallan sidestepped him. As he did he could see that Zenotha was behind the man with what looked like a club? In that instant she smashed it over his head denting the helmet he was wearing and knocking the man down. “When did she move?!” Ilthallan asked himself. “She also knew exactly where to hit him. Perhaps she was an assassin sent to kill me?” He thought asking himself as his spell wavered. Though he tripped and fell onto his face after it did.

“Oh my Ilthallan!” She shrieked as she dropped the club and helped him up. “See how much you need me now?” She asked as she poked his nose. “Yeah…” He replied and walked out of the space between a home and the wall. “What’s going on here?” asked an actual town guard. After a few moments he asked the townspeople who were there to tell him what they saw. Then after that they took the man to the prison. “No harm was done.” Ilthallan said but the guard said that the man needed to sit in a cell for at least a day, to cool off.

Soon the Caravan master… the one under Ilthallan walked up to them. “Well we packed up everything and even hired a few guards to watch the supplies. We will start commerce again in the morning.” And with that he left him and Zenotha… alone. “Would you like to join me?” Ilthallan asked her as he held out an arm. She was shocked but took his arm and walked leaning against him. “So are we…” She trailed off. “We are going to sleep together yes… but only sleep. It is hard for me to trust people.” He said pausing as they walked. “I want to trust you and will by sleeping with you tonight.” He admitted as they walked. They paid for a room and moved into the bed.

Gam-Shei Rudsimwar Augusdesh decided to go traveling.... to Hammerfell. He wants to side with Azzhlan. He is thinking about joining his cause. See how his kind fights their wars. His fellow Aragonians has been trying to convince him to stay behind. Why try to be killed traveling to such a place? For excitement? Because you're bored? Why go to them?

"Heh. I must be careful so I am not killed" He smirks as he is walking in the darkness. He does not have much hand to hand combat even though he is good at hiding and is a student of war. "If I don't die from humans who hate my kind, maybe the Khajirts will try to slit my throat" he chuckles.

He wonders off into the darkness to see what awaits him.......

Sentinel was soon to be under siege. The amassed Redguard forces had arrived in time to organize a defense. Rations had been drawn up, and it was clear that—excepting disease or treason—they would be able to hold out for some time. The troops had been split between those atop the walls and manning the defenses, and a guerilla force hidden in the countryside. In terms of raw numbers, they were outmatched. But they had been outnumbered by the Dominion during the Great War, and that didn’t stop prevent victory then. There was a reason the Redguards were known as the most naturally gifted warriors in all of Tamriel.

Azzhlan was perturbed by the Dominion immediately striking against Sentinel. The city of his birth, where his family had ruled for generations, was the best fortified cities in Hammerfell, with Rihad in the south and Hegathe in the west being the only cities to come close. It spoke to the Dominion’s confidence that they made their first major assault here.

A frown creased Azzhlan’s brow. It’s probably just their fanatical obsession with their own supposed racial superiority. Nevertheless, I cannot help but feel that there is something more sinister in play here. Leaning on the edge of his balcony, Azzhlan’s gaze turned toward the sea. They had been unable to muster their entire navy in time for this confrontation. Most of the ships had been posted in the Illiac Bay region, and they were prepared, but so many were unavailable.

There was nothing he could do now. The die had been cast, Until engagement in the siege began, he could do nothing, and he was limited even then. He could fight, he had done it for most of his life, and he would do so again, but a siege was different. A siege required patience, and strict rationing. He had both, but the nervous anticipation of the coming battle gnawed at him. Ironically, he would be more at ease when the enemy was at the gates.

The enemy. His mind went back. Back to the Great War. He had known that it wasn’t over. The Empire was too cowed to fight the Dominion, and the Dominion too stable to fall without being toppled. There would be more war, more death before the end.

His mind wandered. He still remembered. All his oldest friends had stayed by his side throughout the war. Until they died. And die they did. One by one, they had given their lives to preserve his, so that their people might not lose hope. So that he, their friend, might live. Azzhlan’s cheeks were wet. He had sat with each and every one of them as they breathed their last. Eight of the greatest men Azzhlan had ever known. Only he and Avik remained.

Azzhlan’s gaze fell now upon the Aldmerri forces amassing for the siege, and an old anger stirred inside of him as he clutched the sword his father gave him. The Dominion has not learned. They will not learn unless they are made to. We shall fight them off again, and when the Ansei are with us again, the Thalmor shall die in droves.

In the now Res Publican Imperial City, the Moth Priests, unnoticed by the revolutionaries, would continue their prophecies:

Skyrim

"You may threaten me," the Dragonborn was speaking to the surprised Stormcloak agents who had broken into his adopted children's room, "but you do not threaten my family!" And with that, he would use a Restoration Paralysis spell, causing the unfortunate duo to collapse, unable to move. The Breton would then bring the two agents over to the guard barracks, and report the attempted kidnapping.

At the same time, reports have come in that Ulfric's forces were approaching Whiterun, with catapults and ballistae in their train...

Hammerfell



What a cause for sadness, what a cause for wrath! Sentinel has fallen to the Aldmeri Dominion, and only lamentation can follow! As the walls of the city fall down, as the last of the defenders are slaugthered, the cries of the remaining population reach the heavens as the Thalmor troops begin indulging in every barbarity of war; raping, killing, and looting as they went, carrying off everything of value, breaking into houses and slaugthering all inside, burning entire districts with magical fire, disemboweling pregnant women, and rounding up children to use as target practice. Women were buried alive in their own homes, Men were hacked to bits and raised as undead, priceless treasures and relics were carried off to the Thalmor ships; truly, this was a day that will live in infamy.

The Aldmeri Dominion commander didn't care that Azzhlan would retaliate against their own Thalmor prisoners; if they were weak enough to get captured in the first place, then they deserved to die.

Cyrodiil

Back in Cyrodiil, Skingrad has fallen, and so has Kvatch, both being subjected to a brutal sack, before the Thalmor spread out to ravage the countryside, forcing the escaping Res Publican troops to fight together with the counterrevolutionary militia that had been raised against them, with Lucius Cincinnatus managing to manfully escape, this time to the Imperial City, where, with a council made up of the Heads of the various Guilds, he declared the formation of the Republican Senate, as well as the foundation of a New Model Army, a force raised by Fighters, Butchers, and Blacksmith's guilds. This New Model Army would be armed with a weapon not commonly used in the Empire, Pikes, supplemented by equally uncommon weapons, Halberds.

Ranged Weaponry would be a made up of massed Crossbowmen, the rationale behind that being the fact that Crossbows were easier to train an army in than normal bows. At the same time, whatever Staffs of Firebolt were gathered by the army, and entrusted to a cadre of 'sharpshooters', men and women who, though not able to shoot fireballs from their hands, were able to shoot it from a weapon...

High Rock

Word of the Sack of Sentinel had spread to the Anti-Thalmor coalition, who were still busy trying to take down Alunausbah, but whose continued successes were enough to get them focused on their original goal, to frustrate the Thalmor. More aid will come to Hammerfell.

In the meantime, in Daggerfall, the Merchants and Citizens were sending petitions to the Crown for it to do something, anything, about the loss of a valued trade partner, Sentinel, which had also been in personal union with Daggerfall decades before the First Great War. Thus, there was high Pro-Hammerfell sentiment in the kingdom, sentiment given overwhelming moral force.

In the meantime, Alunaushbah had begun attacking New Orsinium with his remaining Dragons, destroying several lesser settlements already. Though there was no love lost between Bretons and Orcs, it might make for good realpolitik to rescue the Osimer from Alaunausbah, and so sow the seeds for refounding the ancient Daggerfall Covenant...

The large hearth within the great hall of Dragonsreach had burned down to low embers as Jarl Balgruuf and his council gave careful thought to the ordeal they now faced. As the hold slept, those that wield power within the hold had only war on their minds. Balgruuf sat before the dying hearth, a plate of seared slaughter fish and warm mead left cold and untouched. Among him was his trusted advisers, Proventus, Irileth, Hrongar, and Fangar.

"So it comes to it at last; War," said Balgruuf grimly.

His brother Hrongar grunted beside him. "Better it comes now. The Stormcloaks are weary of war."

"And we are weak from the Dragon Crisis," Balgruuf returned crossly.

Proventus, the steward of Whiterun, rubbed his hands together anxiously. "Perhaps the Jarl of Windhelm goes elsewhere. How can we really be sure we are his intended target?"

"Proventus, you snivelling coward..." began Hrongar, interrupted by the calming hand of the jarl.

"Enough, Hrongar. Whitrun is key to Ulfric's ambitions. We hold the center of Skyrim, and vital to unifying the realm. I have defied him long enough, and his patience is no more. If it's war Ulfric wants, it's war he shall have.

"We are not without friends," said Irileth. The former assassin balancing the point of a dagger on the table before her. "Order the Dragonborn here, he must give us aid."

Balgruuf shook his head. "The Dragonborn's title of Thane is an honourary one, and no oaths has he sworn to service. Besides, he has done enough for the people of Whiterun. Nevertheless, summon him here in the morning. I will ask him one last time to aid Whiterun."

Proventus tugged at his collar. "With the recent infiltration of Stormcloaks, and the subsequent assault committed upon the Dragonborn and his family, I don't see how he could possibly refuse."

"What of the Companions?" Asked Irileth.

"Yes," agreed the Jarl. "We shall call on the warriors of Jorrvaskyr. Long have the Jarls of Dragonsreach and the Harbingers of the Companions worked together in such times of crisis. Proventus, send word to the Jarless of Solitude as well. It is in Whiterun that this war shall finally be turned against Ulfric, and any troops she can send will be sorely needed."

"Excuse me, my Jarl, but what of the mages of Winterhold? Perhaps they can be of some assistance?" Chimed Farengar, the court mage.

"They are too far away to lend any help, besides, Winterhold is loyal to Ulfric. What makes you think they will come to our aid?"

"I have many friends among the college," returned the mage. "Besides, the diverse ranks of the college do not wish to see the jingo's among the Stormcloaks come to power."

Balgruuf nodded slowwly. "Very well. Send word to the College of Winterhold. Perhaps some can come and assault the rear guard of the Stormcloaks."

"What's our next move?" Asked Hrongar, eager to get to the topic of strategy.

The Jarl stared into the glowing embers of the hearth for a long moment. Finally he spoke. "Irileth, long has your sword been at my side, has it not?"

"Yes, my Jarl, and longer still," returned the Dark Elf. "I may have been born in Morrowind, and ventured all across Tamriel, but Whiterun is my home, and I shall die to defend it."

"That is good to hear, my old friend. I task you with leading the army against the Stormcloaks. Do what you can to turn them from the hold. Send them running back to Windhelm like frightened children."

"It is the blood of Stormcloaks that will spill across the plains, my Jarl."

"What of me, Jarl Balgruuf?" asked Hrongar, slighted at being omitted from command.

"Your place is by my side, brother. I charge you with seeing to the defence of the city. Should things turn ill out on the tundra, I will have great need of you upon the walls."

"I will die before I let a Stormcloak within this city, my Jarl!" Saluted Hrongar.

"Good. Dispatch messengers, get the aid we so desperately need." Balgruuf stood up from the table as his advisers scattered to carry out their duties. With leaden steps, he made his way to his chambers, watching his children as they slumbered in their beds.

Surrendering to fatigue, the Jarl found his bed and shut his eyes, suffering a fitful sleep of unpleasant dreams.

From where we were, we could still see the smoke rising. Sentinel, or whatever was left of it after the Dominion sacked it, was hidden behind the dunes of the Alik’r. It had been a hard decision to make, with the civilians in tow, but ultimately was the best option. The nomads of the Alik’r knew the desert well, and could be trusted to guide the non-combatants east to Taneth. From there they could go where they pleased. Some had wanted to join on with the army, to fight for their revenge—they were welcomed, but their numbers were insignificant. Most of Sentinel’s fighting-age population were already armed, so that only left those too old and too young. Then there were those left unconscripted who chose, instead, to see their families to safety. Officially, they were charged with spreading word of the fall of Sentinel, but with their home’s destroyed, they had little to do but wander until they found a new place to settle down.

Family… His family’s crypt was hidden behind a secret passage to beneath the castle. According to legend, it was placed there by a particularly paranoid ancestor of his, who saw the threat of Necromancers looming on the horizon. It was not, but his foolishness might protect, at least, Azzhlan’s honored dead. His subjects would not be so lucky, nor anything else in the city.

Azzhlan felt a hand on his shoulder, “My friend, we must keep moving. We must organize.”

Azzhlan felt his hands curl into fists unbidden, “We will make them pay, Avik. By the hunger of Satakal, we will push them back into the sea and make all of Alinor burn. And it starts here. We will break them down until their spirit is nothing, and then we will spill their blood onto the sands and into the Iliac.”

“When do I start?” Avik growled.

“You do not. You go to Heldom Mount.” Azzhlan could not see his friends reaction. “That is where the efforts to revive the Ansei are based. If we had the Sword Saints, we would not have lost Sentinel. I expect you to get them moving.”

“I’ll do it, friend, but why are you really sending me there?” Avik’s ability to see through him made Azzhlan chuckle.

“Nisira will be going with you.”

“Oh? And what business does the queen have at the feat of Dragontail?”

“Her business is safety, Avik.” Azzhlan turned to his friend, “She is with child.”

Neither of them spoke. After a while, Avik broke the silence, his voice just barely above a whisper, “I swear Azzhlan, your wife and child will be safe under my care, even if it costs me my life.”

Putting his hand on Avik’s shoulder, Azzhlan was no louder, “I know, my old friend. That is why I chose you to be in charge of their safety.”

There was another long pause. “So,” Avik said, now at normal volume, “what are your plans for the Dominion?”

“We could engage them directly and win, we proved that much at Sentinel.” Azzhlan’s gaze turned again to the rising smoke, “but that will end nothing. They will send more troops, and we will not be able to hold off another force of that magnitude, not after a direct confrontation. We will raid their encampments, poison them and burn them. Kill them, when we can.”

“Just like what happened outside the walls.”

“Yes, except this time there won’t be a city to collapse, only the Dominion.”

“And if they follow the raiders?”

“They do not know the land, Avik. As a worst case scenario, we could lose them in the desert. I had some of the nomads stay behind for a reason.”

“And the boy?” Avik grumbled.

“Talib isn’t a boy.”

“He might as well be, Azzhlan. He’s green as they come, and you sent him off in command.”

“He’s in charge of getting to the port in Lainlyn, and making sure overzealous troops don’t kill valuable captives or burn captured ships. Admiral Sabik still has command of the fleet.”

“If there was another choice, I’d have you send someone else.”

“Have me…” At this, Azzhlan could not help but burst out laughing. “You insolent old bundle of scars! If anyone else said that I’d...” But his laughter was so great that he could not describe whatever fate law proscribed for those who gave their king backtalk. When he regained his breath, he said “Thank you. Laughter is so precious…” The two warriors turned and walked back to the camp.

Hakkon sighed as he waited by the front gate of the town for Rasei to finish his tasks and meet up with him, His company of mercenaries, the Steel Talons, had cleared out a bandit hideout a day and a half ago, the pay for the job was a bit low but they got to keep what they got from the hideout, and had come to the town. Hakkon sent Rasei and a two other men to sell some of the loot and he went to make a deal to let a man from the unit use the local blacksmith's forge to make repairs on weapons and armor and make arrows to replenish their stock.

Eventually Hakkon saw Rasei coming toward him, the argonian was accompanied by a nord Hakkon didn't know, as the two came up Rasei told him the the nord was a caravan master for the merchants guild and was looking for guards, "i'll send some men to guard your goods for the night then, the rest will be ready for when your caravan moves out" he said as the two made a deal.

after that exchange he and Rasei went out to the small camp the mercenaries had set up not to far from the city but out of the way. when they got their he sent 8 men to guard the caravan's supplies and the rest he told to get rest and prepare to move in the morning and headed to the tent he shared with Rasei and collapsed on the bedroll in full armor and fell asleep. in the morning he would meet caravaneer's employer and finalize the deal.