Chapter One, Part One.

War

Up until the commencement of the war Anthema was a small, nondescript island off the coast of Cyrodiil. After the Thalmor declared their intentions it suddenly became the linchpin of both sides of the war, whilst still remaining somewhat small. The Empire, at this time including the Yokudans, wanted to hold it as with it under their command they could prevent any passage northwards by sea and the Thalmor needed it to serve as a staging point for their forces. With the goal of capturing the island either side dispatched forces by sea in its direction.

It was under this instruction that Commander Delmar, captain of the Longstrider, was sailing as part of a flotilla of Empire and Yoku forces towards the island. Anthema had been in sight since morning and now the frigate was passing over the coral colonies that lived in the clear waters north of Anthema. The commander stood at the side of the Longstrider with his second in command, a younger sergeant by the name of Corvus. “Somewhat reminiscent of Stros M'kai wouldn't you say?” The sergeant was staring down into the water below them at the glittering corals, oblivious to the island in front of them.

“Perhaps a little sir,” Corvus replied without looking and slowly turned his head to face the Anthema, his cheeks blushed a little when he saw the greenness of it. “An unfair jest if I might say so.”

“But not undeserved I think.” As the frigate approached the edge of the shore they fired off a hollow barrel in the direction of Trivat, the only settlement on the island. They waited there, on the edge of the bay, waiting for a pilot to guide them in for nearly thirty minutes before they fired a second round.

“Perhaps we have arrived too late?” Said Corvus to the Commander his eyes glimmering with nervousness only slightly.

“I think not. Timidity is to blame I suspect. Fire a second round!” At this second thunderous summons a small fishing vessel set out from the Trivat docks. Whilst they had been waiting the rest of the fleet had caught up with the Longstrider. One other frigate accompanied them, The Glorious Purpose, along with several other smaller ships of lesser design and broadside. Added to that were the 'irregulars' as they were being called, pirate ships with pirate crews, faster than the average warship and more fearsome. The small boat pulled alongside the Longstrider and its captain clambered aboard with a surprising grace.

The captain, a young redguard with lank wet hair and an easy smile, introduced himself as Achel. “Might I ask why it took so long for you to reach us?” Commander Delmar said with his usual polite tone.

“Ah, well, we don't get many visitors out this way. And the bay is so deep most folk just sail straight in without the formalities.”

“Well then you have my apologies for troubling you unnecessarily.” The bay proved to be as Achel had promised and the frigate sailed in without trouble. Delmar ordered The Glorious Purpose and the rest of the larger ships to remain in the deeper waters until further notice, only those required to land the men were allowed into the bay.
All in all three ships were used to land the five hundred legionnaires come to defend Anthema, the Longstrider, The Moment of Innocence and The Turning point. The pirates drew their ships closer to the docks than the rest of the 'regular' fleet and started to land their crews with smaller landing craft.

The soldiers were met by what few inhabitants remained in Trivat. A worried rabble of those too proud, sick, old or young to leave their homes and make the journey across the sea to the mainland. A few figures lingered around the troops as the rest of the village dispersed, all of them men. The first stepped forwards, slowly, he was old and by the looks of his garb the elder of the village.

“Gentlemen, we have been waiting. I'm glad it was you who arrived first.” The elder said no more and walked back into the settlement. Behind him stood two more men, one dressed in simple clothes but with a fine sword hanging from his belt and the other in plain white robes. Delmar turned to face the armed citizen but before he could speak the man had drawn his sword and swiftly placed it at the feet of the Commander.

“Gancol, Commander, I would join the legion if you'll have me?” Delmar glanced the man up and down quickly before speaking.

“Local boy Gancol?”

“Yes sir,” his tone carried a slight element of confusion.

“Want to defend your home?”

“Yes sir,” he was somewhat more eager this time.

“Welcome aboard,” Gancol quickly grabbed his sword and sheathed it, then stood for a moment awaiting instructions.

“You're not going anywhere, I'll need a local guide for the duration of our stay here. Sergeant Corvus,” the young man stood to attention as he heard his name, “what would be an appropriate position for our new recruit, considering the circumstances?”

“Captain would suffice I believe sir.”

“Indeed it would, feeling generous today are we Corvus? Still, the point remains, Captain Gancol I am formally retaining you as part of my support staff.” Commander Delmar gave neither man time to rest and moved now with a vigour unexpected in a man of his age out of the town and up the solitary hill on Anthema.

The climb was only two hundred meters up over a distance of nearly double that on the route they'd taken however to the south, the side that faced the Summerset isles it dropped away steeply into an almost unclimbable bank.

At the top Commander Delmar paused for a moment and took a deep breath before turning back to the young men tailing him. “A fine spot for a fort don't you think gentlemen?”

“A fort sir? Here? So far from the town?” Gancol asked.

“Captain Gancol, I must remind you of our duty, we are not here to defend the town our orders are to hold the island against what will be by most estimates a significantly larger force. The town is ill-placed to aid us to that goal and so it's abandonment is already under way.”

“What about the townspeople sir? They won't leave, these are their homes.”

“Be that as it may Captain, with our arrival here the island is under martial law and I have declared that all civilians must leave the island. Don't look so concerned, provisions have been made for them, they shall be loaded into The Rising Moonlight and The Unlooked for Visitor, in greater comfort than that by which we arrived and carried to first Rihad and then Taneth where they shall be safely ensconced for the duration. I trust this will be satisfactory?” Gancol sensed that whilst posed as a question this last was most certainly not.

“Sergeant, send for Master Valen and begin the groundwork here, I trust you know what is expected.”

“Sir,” Covus walked briskly back down the hill and away to the town where the rest of the Empire forces were marshalling.

“Captain Gancol, I would be most grateful if you could go down into the town and collect each and every map of the island and take them to Scribe Torlin, just look for the pile of scrolls and coins, he'll be nearby.” Without any sort of acknowledgement Gancol followed after Corvus running to catch up with him.

On the summit of the rise Commander Delmar awaited the arrival of Master Valen, chief Pyromancer for the 168^th Yokudan Legion. The Pyromancers manned the cannons and artillery of the legions and they guarded the secrets of their weapons with unending vigilance.

Master Valen was the youngest member of the guild, known generally to the public as The Engineers Guild, though they insisted it should be The Pyromancer's Guild, to ever reach the rank of Pyromancer, at only 22 his rise through the ranks had been unstoppable. He'd joined the crews at 14, as all apprentices did, as simple water boy. Two years later after the unfortunate death of the commanding Pyromancer of his cannon he took control of the battery and led them in the successful defence of Taneth from the disgruntled desert raiders who had laid seige to the city. After that he had been whisked away into the official houses of the Guild, and allowed access to the innermost secrets of the guild. He had emerged after four years of training clothed in the scarlet of a Pyromancer.

Now those same colors were climbing the hill towards Commander Delmar. “Master Valen, always a pleasure,” he said, extending his hand and wrinkling his nose only slightly, the Pyromancer always carried with him a smell of singed hair.

“Commander Delmar, I assume you are after my guns?” He replied with a slight smile.

“You are correct, how well equipped are we?” The Commander had left the acquisition of the cannons to Valen as the guild considered it an offence for an outsider to meddle in their affairs.

“We have three twelve-pounders, one eighteen, five nine-pounders and a single twenty four-pounder. I'd like more but I'd always like more. These are in addition to those mounted aboard the ships but I'd rather leave them where they are for the moment sir.”

“I understand of course, I would like the largest mounted here in the fort if possible, you are free to do with the rest as you deem best.” Master Valen nodded his ascent.

“I'll set up a small battery up on the edge of the rise over there Commander with the twelve-pounders and another on one of the buildings in the town with the nine-pounders. I'll leave the eighteen in the fort too. We'll give them a hell of a show sir.” The Pyromancer paused for a second and Delmar could see his lips moving minutely as he calculated, “how long do we have before the bastards get here?”

“The last report suggested we have as much as a week before the enemy arrive Master. And we shall use every moment of it in preparation.” Master Valen sensed that he was no longer needed and departed to begin construction on his batteries. From his position on the hill Commander Delmar stared away into the south with the breeze in his face “what sort of storm do you bring?” he asked the wind.

Chapter One, Part Two

War.

“How many shall accompany us captain?”

“We have 14 ships ready sir, carrying 75 men apiece”

“Wooden, I assume? The ships that is.”

“Unfortunately so, sir, only The Last Gasp is available from the crystal fleet and captain Blomar was reluctant to allow her out of dock.”

“The ships of the Crystal fleet are treasured and The Last Gasp had been under Captain Blomar's command for nearly a century, it is understandable that he would be protective of his valued charge, nevertheless, I trust that he has seen the error of his ways?”

“Indeed sir, I am led to believe that he received a visit from the council,” the public leaders of the Thalmor known as The Council were known to be harsh with those who attempted to avoid their duty or in any way impede the advancement of their great Undertaking.

“Excellent, the empire will quake at the sight of her majesty. She carries a sun-lance doesn't she?” The sun-lance was a powerful weapon invented at roughly the same time as the crystal fleet, to this day it remains a matter of contention as to whether the ships or the weapons they bear came first but either way they remained a perfectly destructive pairing. The lances worked by focusing, not only the visible light falling on the absorption crystal but all ambient magickal luminance in the Nirnian atmosphere into a coherent beam of energy. Such beams lost their potency over ranges of greater than one hundred meters and by two hundred were almost undetectable but up close they could decimate lesser ships of wood in a matter of seconds. Amongst the general population of the isles they were known as 'Auriel's breath' which was their original codename. They were made from crystal, not entirely dissimilar to that of the Crystal tower and their floating platforms, but it was crafted that it could be spun into fibres of almost impossible delicacy. Their creation required not only a gentle and cautious hand but a respectable command of magicka.

“And what of the troops? I trust they are capable?”

“Yes sir, they are split thricely between our representatives. The Khajiiti 201^st, the Bosmeri 67^th and the home isle 2^nd accompany us.”

“The 201^st? Conscripts then, are they reliable?” Due to the somewhat massive population
of Eleswyr the Thalmorian council had seen it as a perfect recruitment ground, unfortunately the Khajiit themselves had seen it differently and the council had been forced to conscript a great number of their troops from the area. It was common knowledge amongst the higher up commanding officers in the Thalmorian army that any force from Elsweyr assigned a number beyond the 51^st was a conscripted unit and should be dealt with, at the very least, with a firm hand.

“As reliable as we expect from the cats sir. No doubt they will serve their purpose, if not with dignity then with mediocrity.” In a recent battle the council had employed a new tactic regarding the conscripts. They had used the entirety of the 193^rd Khajiitian cohort as fodder to absorb the brunt of the enemy resistance, this had resulted in the destruction of the 193^rd but the ultimate success of the army, a sacrifice that the command saw as completely satisfactory. “I should also mention sir, that each of the ships will be carrying some extra offensive capabilities in addition to the usual bow mounted ballistae, The association has deemed our mission of appropriate importance for them to grant us a mage and apprentice to aid in the defence of the vessels.”

“Very good Captain. I understand that you have been allocated to our flagship alongside myself.”

“Yes sir, I am. An honour the council placed with me.”

“And well earned Captain, I heard of your work in Eleswyr bringing the rebels back in line. Not easy work,” the Commander's usual plain tone gave way to a slight sincerity that made the captain almost, almost, blush.

“Thank you sir. Not easy work indeed and bloody in the end,” he held back a slight shiver at the memory of the things he had seen, the things he had commanded. Never could be accused of disbelief in the cause but such horrors impose themselves upon even the hardiest of souls and weighed heavy on his mind.

“I think you'll find The Fading Sunlight to be a most comfortable ride.” The Fading Sunlight was the pride of the wooden ships in the Thalmorian navy and was suitably large enough to carry two mounted ballistae and require a crew of nearly a hundred to man her fully.

“You're not aboard The Last Gasp sir?” Usually the commander of the expedition would ride aboard the ship considered the most important of the fleet.

“I made a decision that she was not as suitable for the cause as The Fading Sunlight, I trust this shall not be too much of an issue for you captain?”

“Of course not,” the captain's tone remained neutral with only a slight hint of disappointment.

“Very well then Captain, you're dismissed. We set sail at dawn tomorrow.” The captain left leaving Commander Arthell alone in his quarters. The room was simple, bare some would say, he had never wished for the finer things in life. He was old now, even by the standards of his own people, impossibly so by the reckoning of men and he was starting to suspect that this last outing would be his final hurrah whatever the outcome. On the top of a set of drawers, the only furniture in the room save for the bed, sat a simple hand mirror and lifting its filigree frame he regarded his reflection. His advanced age was beginning to tell and fine lines were forming beneath his eyes.

Arthell had lived an age at war and had seen all that could be done, even the sack of Alinor by the Septim, though he found that memory painful and hard to recall at the best of times. Sometimes he would wake at night coated in a fine mist of sweat terrified by dreams of destruction he could not comprehend. He had seen the fall of crystal tower and the damage the daedra had done to his lands, it had been then that he chose to join the Thalmor on their Undertaking.

The commander stared into his own eyes and remembered battles of times long since passed and his first foray. He had been young, sixteen to be precise, in some minor skirmish between his people and the Maomer. There he had seen the power of strength (and the Sunbirds, though they are gone now) and some part of him had come alive and revelled in barbarity of it all. He had, of course, pretended that he served out of only duty but with each and every battle and flirt with the oblivion that lay behind failure he felt more and more invigorated.

That had long since passed for him now and enjoyment had become duty, he served with distinction because he felt he should. It was that duty that carried him to Anthema and war once more.

Commander Arthell retired to his bed, to sleep (though, in the end he slept little) and wait for his departure.