Word from the Author: Thanks for checking out this fanfiction, this is the finishing segment to The Immortal Blood Timeline's most recent roleplay: The Siege of Rihad. Which was a sequel to the last chapter of The Lord of the Western Land's Saga. For more information on the Immortal Blood Timeline universe (our alternate take on TES after the end of Oblivion) feel free to check out our wiki: http://ibt.wikia.com/wiki/Immortal_Blood_Timeline_Wiki

Even if you aren't a regular roleplayer with us or a fan of the timeline, thank you very much for giving me the privilege of sharing these stories. Although there may be a grammatical error here or there my focus is on creating an entertaining story for the reader. I put a lot of time and effort into these characters and the situations they find themselves in, I have also added in music to portray the scenes how I felt they were meant to be. Please, if you only read every other word or skip over whole paragraphs...at least listen to the music if it is involved with that chapter. It can convey more without a single word being spoken, and just makes for an ultimately awesome experience (just make sure to open in a new tab). Some of the characters in this story were never my own, this fiction shares their views from both sides of the current war raging in Hammerfell. Apologies if your unfamiliar with the current story and background, but I am positive you will find at least one scene enjoyable and worth your time. Feel free to let me know what you think after reading, having others read your work is the highest point for a writer in my humble opinion.

Prologue

Pass the Jamba, warm ye hands and sit by the fire. I'm here to tell ye about the Siege of Rihad.

Aye, the High King Haroun Do Ashir Hel Ansei, a Crown who married the Forebear Princess Roxanna Barca to unite his peoples...he had waged a war against any who didn't want to join his "Yokudan Empire".

Aye, not everyone was convinced that marriage was enough to prove he di'nt have dark desire to Lord over them Forebears.

And Aye, when doubt exists rebellin' ain't far off.

Them Forebears at the Confederation of Rihad swore they'd be deader than a ghost then 'bide by the King's query.

So he was gon' make 'em deader than ghosts.

They say some knife earred elven fella talked sense into him on the eve of battle.

Truce was quick to be signed, but them Forebears made the biggest mistake of their lives....

They killed his Queen.

Aye, this period was called the Domination.

For months they waged war against this confed'ration of Forebears, slaughtering the City of Roseguard and coming to a halt at the river of Rihad.

Those Knights that helped the Forebears...they was good at killin' but they wasn't enough in numbers.

The Yokudans were good at killin' but they had the numbers.

Abel

Written to the Sound of: http://youtu.be/fbFgxucxVcM

The hounds barked. Oh Gods, how the Hounds barked.

Abel sprinted through the field of maize, his face battered and bleeding from corn stalks slapping against his body. Torch lights flickered behind him as the grunts and shouts of the enemy chased him down. His comrades sprinted as hard as they possibly could, they had not enlisted for suicide.

A scream engulfed the night as the vicious dogs found their prey, the sound of a man being torn apart. Abel stopped momentarily...these were one of the men he had served with.

No, no time. Run!

Laughs and shouts could be heard as the Legio Falco soldiers stabbed and prodded the man being eaten alive. Tears of frustration and fear erupted out of the vents of Abel's eye. He was lost, he could no longer hear his other friends sprinting beside him. They had all broken apart, roughly fifteen left alive after the massacre at the river crossing....

Suddenly his feet had given way to nothing but air, a drop in elevation so sudden, he hit the ground with a thump to find himself rolling and hitting every rock on the way. He howled in pain as a stone jabbed at his kidney. Just as quick, a calloused hand reached for his arm, grasping it and using the other hand to slap over his mouth.

"Shut yer [censored] mouth boy." it was Issac...one of the older Rough Housers in the Army. His face was matted in dirt, patches of hair, nicks and cuts abound as well as a massive bruise on the side of his face. His eyes were bloodshot and drooped. Abel did not look any better. His nose was swelled, his leg with popped stitches from an injury sustained at the river crossing. They were hopeless, they couldn't hide from the hounds.

"We can't hide from the [censored] dogs Issac! They are going to kill us, here! In this [censored] spot! I have to run...we'll both die if we sta-" another slap across his face as Issac looked him over.

"Listen we may not both be able to make it out..." he grasped part of the cloth on Abel's shoulder. Abel couldn't leave the older man behind..but he had to get moving.

"But you can slow them down for me." At the realization of what Issac said, the young Ra Gada's eyes widened as the hidden blade snaked through his reaches and impaled the back of his injured leg.

"Gahhh!"

Issac ran. Issac ran fast.

The barking of those hounds came near...monsters in the night. It would be the last thing he heard, the sound of those dogs. He crawled through the dirt, the mud, the sand. His body being weighed down by the accumulation of what he dragged with him.

"Gods please, no. Gods save me."

Shadows galloping through and abound, atop that hill a vicious Daggerfell Shepard snarled and bared its fangs, saliva dripping from its mouth. Then another, and another. The dogs began barking and shooting down the hill towards him, Abel grabbed the nearest stone and threw it feebly.

First they went for his legs, at first puncturing his flesh and then twisting their heads to cause tears. He screamed and tried to fight them off but the dog was the natural predator here. Through bouts of blood spurt his eyes caught glimpse of that starless void of a sky.

And it was day.

He was blinded. Then he was deafened, the last thing he remembered was a thunderous roar the likes of which he had never known. His mind was no longer his, disoriented and damaged beyond reason. The pain had left his legs, he could still feel the wound. But he was blind and his limbs did not respond to the commands he gave his body. He was confused, disoriented and without sight or hearing.

But he was alive.



Donovan, Solmn, General Faux

Written to the Sound of: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KG8rvcjhlhA

"Do it." he grunted, in the finery of a Navy Officer he looked at the dark visage of Rihad its walls battered, holes beginning to form where once their powerful magic protected them. He was at parade rest, the men went and made the motions. Finally the great fire upon his ship was set ablaze, soon every ship in the Bay began to light as if beacons of hope for all who understood their message.

"Ready the Thundershot."

Grim Hage's smile was filled with such pride at the use of his greatest invention he could not remove it from his place, even after sitting behind Admiral Poth'ra Donovan and giving his life's last breath a happy man. His only wish could have been to see them in action.

The cannon ports of the Navy's broadsides lit up like the stars that had been missing in the sky, as if stolen by the Yokudan Empire's Navy.

Such was the mystique the Legendary Force could induce.

"This is it lads!"

Chougand Battle Post

Solmn Malik saw the hundreds of lights light the sea up, their flames symbolizing that this war could finally be finished. Weeks of hard fighting, weeks of their men dying...for every hard earned inch. Finally, it had arrived.

The men moved quickly, passing barrels filled with the sensitive mixture that comprised the most powerful weapon ever conceived by a Ra Gada mind down an assembly line. Soot covered faces, men drenched in sweat, men who had lost brothers and sisters in this war would finally see an end. Would finally come home to their families.

The cannisters were loaded into the peculiar cannons, longer and more elegant. Designed for maximum range and not necessarily the best accuracy.

"Loading cannons!"

"Cannon station 1 ready."

"Cannon station 2 ready."

"Cannon station 3 ready."

The line roared with the systematic response, rehearsed in training and daily on the battlefield. Each battle station reporting its status and eagerness to engage.

Everyone's stomach twisted in anticipation.

Two days later, Amn of Roseguard and the Angels of War

I have never known a fear like that which I have experienced the last month of my life. I was to be married to the town smith, a respectable arrangement as he was a kind man and did well for himself. I was a potter's daughter, one of three. On the eve of my wedding the Yokudans marched on us, with such fury wielding their terrible Barca blades we had stood little chance. Our soldiers fought valiantly as one could, being descended upon by savages who far outnumbered them in surprise. The things I had seen are horrors no woman should be submitted to. Yet, there I witnessed as I was beset upon by a crowd of soldiers in front of my betrothed, my gown stained with a virtue that had been taken by force from evil men.

Poor Theode, a good man. He tried his best to fight them off. As they struggled to keep him under control a man had pierced a blade through his heart, smiling a wicked grin that wrenched my soul. After the fourth man, I entered a state of mind that disconnected me from what was happening. My tears had run dry, as barren as I save for the cuts and tears they left. I imagined the wheat fields of home, playing in them when I was but a child.

I was in what the healer called a state of shock, not noticing what the warm splash of vermillion could have been until after my liberators had long dispatched the men who deflowered me in the cruelest of fashion. A farmer had used a pitch fork with such ruthless abandon and utter disregard for his own safety, the Barca's could not match it. Beside him were two boys, wielding one of the Barca blades, the other using a cheese knife. Their animalistic violence had saved me. They stayed behind as I was put onto a cart full of women and children. A small caravan sent off to Rihad. I never came to know what came of that farmer and his two boys. I pray to the Gods that they had miraculously survived the Yokudan onslaught, no matter how foolish it would be to wish such a thing.

They gave their lives for all of us.

"Amn, they need us at the square." that is Magdalene, a good friend with a shrill voice. She shares her modest home with me and the other women who take care of the men out fighting. We deliver rations of food and supply where the fighting is thickest...its dangerous but necessary. The soldiers take to calling us the Angels of War.

"Potions?! We don't nearly have enough..." Gods, that sends shivers down my spine. Just last night a boy no older than fourteen came in missing an arm and half his leg from a Yokudan cannon. It took five separate brews the women could put together. We weren't healers. We used what knowledge we have had growing up in this part of the world, most of the time these potions did more to bolster spirit than the body. I tied a white cloth around my hair, the sign we used to show we weren't combatants...what little that did to help us. Once the walls had been breached its said the High King himself had a surrendering group of Temple healers crucified. That Devil didn't take prisoners. When they came, it was as if the Yokudans were a natural disaster, a tsunami with such force and momentum that men could not be behind such deeds. It was as if plague had swept my people.

Two days ago the night sky turned into day. People were blinded, deafened...disoriented and confused. I thought a Sentinel cannon had fired into my bed. My ears were bleeding and I rolled out unable to complete the most common of tasks. It was this time the Yokudans had taken to sail their boats to the walls of our harbor...climbing it and opening the gates to allow room for their armada. Some of those who survived said that there were masked devils within the city who had already taken the light house. The same Demons who burned our fields and farms.

How can we face such force?

"Amn hurry!" Magdalene calls. The constant sounds of battle raging pervade my ears well into my sleep. When the sound lulls, its often replaced with cannons the Yokudans see fit to fire. And those drums...Morwah the drums...

They play constantly. Alas, no time to dwell on the sound of their drums. I run outside, grabbing whatever potions have been made since the last resupply, Magdalene affixes a table cloth around her, filled with the same. We sprint, towards the sound of battle. Not soldiers. Not healers. We are simply women who must do what is right. For our people and our future. There, in the square, I see the familiar faces of our local militia. Barkeeps, farmers, tradesmen but not soldiers. Fighting for us.

"Marcus, we don't have much...you have to ration these out. Who needs this the most?" I call to the leader of this pocket of resistance, he is tall and word is that he used to be a soldier in the Legion. It would make sense. No other militia has killed nearly as much Yokudans as this outfit. He's a strong man, broad of shoulder with a grizzled beard. Yet he is of the same age as I. To think someone so young has seen so much of the world.

"Amn, head over to the other side barricade. A young boy, Stephan is his name. Give him enough to ease the pain...lad is in his last hour. The rest disperse out amongst the frontline." he is so confident and calm, even as a boy lay dying. I run there and behold a babe no more than twelve....the tears burn the vents of my eyes as I look at where his legs used to be; Bloody stumps with tourniquets tied around them. He clutches a puncture at his chest.

"Please! Please stop the pain!" he cries, begging for something. Sadly all I can give him is a root that will speed his time. He coughs blood...I cannot stop the tears from flowing freely.

"Easy, sir." I give him the same title we offer the Knights. Anything to ease his pain.

"You were very brave."

And I give him the poison.

The Sell Sword

“Here’s foooorty Septims... on the drum... to those who’ll volunteer... to come...”

A cough, and the voice – the last in that whole ravaged street, otherwise utterly quiet even as the world around it collapsed – trailed off, having not the courage to disturb the ominous silence any longer. Broken and burning, there was no more room for song in the cursed city of Rihad; there were only the blood-curdling wails of the dying, now, and the unrelenting drumbeat that was war.

Things had come a long way since that cheerfully drunk evening in the tavern. And so, in turn, had they.

“Who told ya to stop..?”

Wearily, the Nibenese knight, slumped limply against a half-collapsed wall, scratched the black X tattooed on his cheek. Dried blood and soot clung to the old legionary sign, much like it did to the entire rest of his face; only his eyes, dark brown and gleaming with that unmistakeable, eery edge that could be nothing but quietly growing madness, shone out through the dirt, wandering pointlessly up and down the street.

“Saint Alessia, that’s... who...” The man finally croaked, a wry smirk distorting his features. For a moment, a bout of wheezing coughs interrupted him. “Popped up... from the dirt right over there, and... and told me to shut the hell up.”

Hoarse chuckling met his laboured jest.

For once in his life, though, Marius didn’t feel much like joking; even as he spoke, the words left a bitter, venomous aftertaste lingering in his mouth. “You frakking Nibens always were crazy for her skirt...” He tried to laugh again – useless. Eating sand would have been easier. “Now c’mon, get up.”

Lazily, the Nibenese looked at his Colovian comrade’s hand – bare from the elbow down, burnt and bloody. Just as lazily, he glanced downwards, his fingers still scratching idly at the mark of the Tenth Legion that had been etched into his face so long ago.

That tiny splotch of crimson besmirching the bottom of his already muddy and shredded tabard was growing. Fast.

His dry, cracked lips stretching into a pained grimace of a smile, the knight looked up at Marius again. Already, his eyes seemed slightly glassy; or maybe that was just the ex-centurion’s mind, playing its cruel tricks on him.

“You know... how this works... Lepidus.”

“Aye.”

Slowly, the Colovian’s hand fell limply to his side - his fingers brushing the pommel of his broadsword on the way, as if by accident. “Nice knowin’ ya. For a prissy Niben, you’re an alright sort.”

“You ain’t... bad... for a Colovian asshat, yourself.” Wheezing, the Nibenese soldier chuckled weakly. ”Have... fun with them black... bastards.”

“’s what I’m paid for, yeah.”

There was no ring as Marius drew the sword from beneath his belt; only the cold, dispassionate hiss of steel slipping past studded leather.

Three Days later, The Battlemage

"I trust I am not too late." the hooded figure asked, his voice was calm and he spoke with a mastery of Yoku that the commander had never seen in an Altmer. The man was an Imperial Battlemage, and Is-Shin was the unlucky commander of Rihad keep's guard. The councilors for the confederation were huddled here, in a panic. The battle had reached the bridge and the Yokudans had all but complete control of the city.


"We have no contact with outside...Anvil has set war camps in the fields beyond the keep...and the bridge can only hold out for another day at most. Sir...do you think you can really save us? My men and I are willing to give our lives for our people, but we will do everything we can to get out of this alive."

"I will do all within my power, Commander. The path to peace must always be taken, regardless of how many turns it makes. I will not allow blood to be spilled if it can be prevented." he turned to face the commander as they ascended up the stairs to the council chambers, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Three apt knocks were placed upon the large walnut door, reverberating its echo throughout the halls.

The doors opened and old hushed men and one rather young woman, presumably Taneth's Queen awaited. Tucharon gave the briefest signs of being surprised at her presence before walking in, his hands resting within the sleeves of his robes.

"Councilors, this is the Battlemage we were given word of. He still believes there is a possible chance at peace."

"Battlemage...while we find your pursuit of peace admirable, I am afraid my head will not be attached for its cost. I offered them a chance at peaceable coexistence months ago, and the Yokeda Bomlikar and the High King himself would stop at nothing to conquer our people. I'm afraid we must find a way to escape." the man was old and familiar Tucharon was already aware of this man's presence in failed negotiations with the Yokudan Empire.

Lelliana, Queen of Taneth was next to speak, her hair was adorned in jewels and her hands in bangles of gold and emerald. She was beautiful and looked to be worth more than all the wealth on her from sheer beauty.Taneth had a history of Queens loyal to the Empire. A line of allies for the Battlespire.

"What exactly makes you think you can bring about this peace? A calm to the storm of the Yokudan Empire?"

Tucharon wriggled around in the sleeves of his robe, the awkward silence deafening to the background of battle outside. He removed a large crystalline object, at first amethyst in color then hinting at different shades of jade.

"This is a memory stone containing thoughts of the late Empress Roxanna, who never wished for any of this bloodshed. Through means I would care not to explain-"

Lelliana cut him off abruptly, "No our lives depend on this Battlemage. I would prefer if you would explain how exactly you have come into contact with a memory stone containing thoughts of the woman whose death brought about this holocaust."

You certainly can act the part of Queen.

"Yes your Highness, Councilors please forgive me. Utilizing Borobra Thring's fourth science I entered the dream sleeve, only the math was refined. Mannimarcin rituals concerning the Egg of God allowed me to use a Grand Soul in place of my own with my own magical energy as a catalyst, the High Queen as a focus and the Memory Stone as the Egg. In doing so I was able to reach what you call the Far Shores and pin point the Queen's life...even after having left the physical world. Normally I would have died in the process but with a proper algorithm you can channel that into the Grand Soul within a Gem. I was thus able to channel her spirit within my own. I assure you this was done with the complete compliance of the highest echelons of Yokudan society. They want peace as badly as we do. Lord Frandar, Regent of the Yokudan Empire has given me the blessing to help the High King see his wife's intentions."

They all looked at the Altmer as if he had grown another head. Not only did he mention a string of principles and theories they would not understand, he made it clear that necromancy was used to reach the Queen.

"Gods help us mage...may I...may I see the Memory stone?" Lelliana asked, her hand out, never expecting to be refused.

"No, your Highness. Such an intimate string of thoughts and memories...I could never betray it to any but the High King himself." he said solemnly.

He too had witnessed the love Roxanna had for Haroun, and Haroun for her. In a way he was the last person alive who knew the High King in such a way.

And thats how he knew he would be able to bring the Elden Yokeda back to reason. In the darkest shadow, light could still exist.

"They've taken the bridge!" the call came from the lower keep.

The Altmer Battlemage closed his eyes.

"It's time."

The Veteran

"Watch for corners..." Solomon reminded his soldiers. The Varangian Guard were some of the best paid and most professional soldiers in Sentinel's army. Yet, even they made rookie mistakes at times. This part of town was quieter than most, farther from the fighting yet the flames and damage of battles earlier in the week still remained. A cannon went off in the distance, its echo sending rubble crushing down beside them.

The men, startled, jumped to the side and ran for cover.

Griffon, the Corporal who had served with Solomon for years chuckled shortly after. "At this rate we'll be running from the next baker chasing us with a rolling pin."

Solomon grinned in reply. They were a squad of Veterans tasked a job that should have been delegated to some Rough House grunts nobody cares about. It was a welcome break from the bloodshed however. Whichever militia still survived in these parts either ran off to a bigger unit elsewhere in the city, or shed their uniform long ago.

"Largo, check that alley way."

Rihad was once a beautiful city but the war had scorched that beauty in a way that made the place a Haunt. Those fortunate enough to be alive hid in their homes and only the bravest looked out the windows.

"We're being watched Solomon..."

"Militia?"

Largo stared down the alley way, the others turned to look in suit.

The outline of a figure staring at them all from the end of the alley could be made. How long he watched them they did not know. Largo threw his torch towards him to illuminate the sight, if he was a combatant he would find himself in bad company.

When the torch landed the alley erupted in light, but the figure was gone.

"Must be my eyes playing tricks on me...didn't get much sleep in the passed few days Sergeant."

Solomon grunted, while Griffon hit Largo between the shoulders.

"Pull yourself together brother, we'll get plenty of sleep after this patrol."

As if the Gods themselves wished to play a cruel jest, the snap of an arrow cracking through the air broke silence, and pierced Griffon's throat.

"Ambush!" the men darted for cover as arrows darted forth, casks of black powder rolled towards them with fuses lit.

The explosion rocked their world.

Ringing.

'Tis all he heard, he tried to regain his senses. He crawled looking for a weapon, as he saw comrades who served under and with him for years lay dead. Those that didn't screamed in pain and confusion, then the Rihad militia approached. Spears in hand.

He knew what came next all too well.

Their spears strike quickly...for farmers.

They attacked savagely, without mercy.

Good conviction, for weekend soldiers.

His senses were beginning to return, he got to his feet. He could hear from the breaths of surprise and the quick foot steps they had seen him, and they were closing in.

He grabbed a rock from a pile of rubble he stood beside and beginning to whirl before looking he spun and threw with a shout.

He got lucky. A militia man's face bore the brunt of that assault but there were at least a dozen more. An arrow missed him narrowly as he picked up his axe, charging forth wildly.

"You want some?! Take all you can!" he sent the axe with wild abandon into the spear of one of the many men who stood against him, the man tried to block but with the wooden haft, he was doomed to begin with. It broke through and the man's chest was cleaved.

No armor, brave...for cowards.

The arrows continued to fly through the air, one piercing through his leg. He howled in pain, he was beginning to believe the shaft that caught his comrade in the neck was luck only. His pain reminded him these men had some modicum of skill.

Another charged forth with a weak thrust, which he caught between his arm and ribs...holding it as he sent his axe into the man's arm. The rest of the militia circled him and struck with clubs. He screamed like a wild animal.

"Come on! More!" I'll rip you apart!"

His axe swung wildly and made contact with more than one person, or perhaps just one person more than once. The screams let him know it was the former.

Your doing it wrong. Amateurs.

A club battered the right side of his helmet in, blood trickling down his face shortly after. Next was a boot that sent more than a few teeth flying. He gritted and spitted blood out his mouth. All went black for a moment until a sense of pain from a club smashing in his ribs brought him back. His axe was pulled out of his arms violently.

Through his blurred crimson vision, a man holding the weapon that had belonged to him his entire professional career, looked at him with disgust.

And with a savage blow that would cleave any man's skull in two...

He missed.

Solomon had grabbed the better part of the spear still in between his arms and used it for the same feeble block that allowed him to kill a man moments before. This time the poorly aimed attack broke the shaft in half and rode it towards the ground, away from its intended target.

He sent the wooden haft, not the actual tip of the spear, into that man's groin. Grabbing onto the man's waist before he keeled over, the Veteran thrust himself up on both legs as the remaining few looked to each other, pausing for but a moment. They all breathed heavily, leaning against a wall.

Solomon stared them down, fear and fury in his eyes. The howls of both his men and the enemy filled the alley.

He threw the spear haft wildly, missing. The men charged and continued their beating, his knuckles were crushed by a club, he grunted as he used that same hand to grab onto that man. He headbutted him wildly, in large part because he needed his hands to hold onto him to maintain the ability to stand.

A knife pierced his back and he shreaked before falling into the ground, the blade still protruding from his body.

"That was a tough one. Finish the rest off, Marcus only wanted a quick raid...and another patrol will be coming through shortly. Take whoever we have left, and looks like they'll make it."

One of the militia spit on Solomon's body, before turning to walk off.

"Burn in eternity, may you never reach the Far Sho-"

The wild veteran grabbed his leg, sliding him down to the ground, before removing his helmet and using it to crush the skull of the man. He bashed his head in so quickly and furiously the sound of smashed melon reached the ears of his comrades before a scream ever did, the militia in panic ran to the madman and began stomping and kicking him. He bore the brunt of their punishment, screaming wildly.

Amateurs.

The Inquisitor and the Shagun

Ever so loudly did the footsteps of the two inquisitors echo amidst the tall arches of the Temple of Rihad. Etched into the wall directly ahead, the wizened and all-knowing eyes of Akatosh – the Dragon-Headed, plastered as His image had hastily been over the likeness of the Yokudan Ruptga - traced their every move intently; the elder bowed his head, daring not to meet the Divine’s stare.

Pathetic. Predictable. Boring.

The voice clawed at the walls of her skull like a maddened wildcat, yearning to break free. Not yet. Not now… Soon.

Ever so loudly did their footsteps echo between the tall arches of the Temple. The eyes of all nine Divines upon them; the High Inquisitor’s head still bowed; Lysandra’s gaze fixed on the figure waiting for them at the room’s end. And him, watching her back.

It was a man’s name that she knew him by, but Andre Montblanc – the last of Rihad’s Shagun – no longer looked the part. Haggard and unkempt, he looked more a beast from the depths of the Alik’r, the long weeks of running and hiding having taken their toll. Since before the siege began, his hair and beard had not seen a barber’s touch, save for what crude services he could render unto himself, and, untamed, they stretched long; yellowed teeth grinned at them from between dry, cracked lips, bared like an animal’s fangs.

How fitting, then, that the inquisitorial duo had cornered him like one.

“Mister Montblanc...” As he raised his head at last, High Inquisitor Liburnus’ voice seemed to reach every corner of the Temple.

“I thought we might find you here.”

Crackling softly, the burning torch in the man-beast’s lowered slightly. The two inquisitors stopped, silence creeping into the domed hall at last.

“Thought,” Montblanc laughed hoarsely. His eyes shone out from underneath that bedraggled mane of hair, hateful and unyielding as they met the cold blue depths of Lysandra’s. “You knew.” The words were spoken like an accusation, as if they – she – had somehow cheated in their little game of hide and seek.

It was an accusation that the Nibenese could only nod to. “So I did. You might be pleased to know that your old contacts are still as competent as ever – those who decided not to be unduly... stubborn.”

Again, the solitary Shagun laughed, bitterly. Awfully cheerful... Pity he’s not mine to play with.

But he could be. Again the voice purred, and black dots swirled before her eyes for a moment. Think of the opportunity, the fun you would have... He is far from broken; he would squirm for so, so long-

NO. It took the iron will of a battlemage to clench her fists, to stop herself.

“It does not matter what we knew and what we guessed,” Liburnus’ voice rang out again, bringing her back to the there and then. The ominous black of the High Inquisitor’s coat shifted slightly as he took one step forward. “What matters is that we are here, all three of us. That torch will not save you from the thorn-crown of Stendarr;” His face, wrinkled and worn, contorted with disdain. “You’ve miscalculated.”

Yes, you have. A smirk tugged at the corners of Lysandra’s lips as she followed him, taking a step forward as well.

Oh how she despised that wide back, unbent by age. He had come to Rihad, to her hunting grounds, uncalled and unannounced. He had had the gall to lecture her – on the duties of the Inquisition, on the methods that are best used in tracking a beast such as now stood before them; on her own game. And rank compelled her to listen without so much as a word, so much as a move to swat away the irritating fly that he was.

But you’re in my parlour, now.

Dispassionately the Nine watched, taking in the entire scene. The grin of mad triumph etched into the High Inquisitor’s face; the tension in Montblanc’s muscles, the desperate hatred in his eyes; the momentary ripple in the serene blue of Lysandra’s robe as her fingers wrapped around her dagger’s handle.

Oblivious, Liburnus took another step towards the trapped Shagun. “A gross miscalculation, indeed. It is true, what they say – that when the Divines wish to punish a man, first they take away his mind;”

More so than you know.

Liburnus would be the first. Then would come the Banker’s turn – for daring to go around her, to whine to the High Inquisitor about Montblanc’s desperate attempt on his life.

“Did you really think they would let you set fire to their own earthly abode?”

The old Colovian’s laughter drowned out the sound of Lysandra’s footsteps.

We’ll have our time with everyone who deserves it. And then..? Then it would be time for a change of scenery. It has been a fun game that we played, together with the Knights, but... time to end it.

Montblanc was no longer looking at the High Inquisitor; his eyes swerved instead towards her hand, emerging slowly from the folds of her cloak.

“That they would let Rihad fall? Oh no,”

Blood pounded in her ears and dark blots danced before her eyes again, her whole body tensing in anticipation of that intimately familiar rush of glee. If she had one regret, then it was that she could not see his face.

“This city will n-“

Drawn steel flashed in the light cast by the candles on the walls and the torch in the Shagun agent’s hand.

“...n... never...”

Finally, the bars of the cage gave way and the wildcat growled in sheer ecstasy. A dark splotch of crimson stained the deep black of the High Inquisitor’s coat, spreading ever wider.

“You miscalculated.” She hissed in his ear - the last thing he’d hear before the dagger slipped across his throat.

With a dull thud, Liburnus’ body fell to the floor. Silently, his blood crept into every crack and crevice in the stone, the High Inquisitor of Hammerfell bleeding dry while the two survivors – a ragged animal and a composed young woman – stared each other in the eye. His filled with suspicious disbelief; hers as cold as ever. Within, they were more alike than either cared to admit.

Montblanc would be the first to break the silence. “The Dragon-Witch is quitting the Ordo, I take it?”

Seemingly absorbed in wiping her blade clean on the old Colovian’s clothes, finally she nodded. “You might say so.”

“And where will that leave me?”

Lysandra smirked. “Exactly where you started. I presume you will want to carry on with setting fire to this... temple; myself, I have, hm, more exciting business to attend to.”

Just so, The voice purred. Finally, it was content... for the meantime.

“Oh, and,” Already turned to leave, she glanced over her shoulder. “I suggest you do not attempt to search for me, once Rihad is yours again; I don’t intend to linger here for much longer. As it stands, I have no quarrel with you or the Shagun. It would be better for both of us if we kept it that way.”

Ever so loudly did the footsteps of the solitary inquisitor echo amidst the tall arches of the Temple as she left.



The Duel

Written to the Sound of: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkymQcjsDmk

The keeps doors were slammed shut as the young guard, covered in blood fought for his breath. It was a contingent of the last men who fought for Rihad. Matted in sweat and dirt, they looked to him for answers. Dust and rubble had encroached what was once a grand entrance, the smell of blood permeated everything.

"What happened?!"

"They are all dead... one man...its one man who has cut through us...they're all dead!"

It was all save for one who panicked. A Colovian, in the Armor of the Knights of the Nine gripped his steel broadsword and walked forward when all retreated.

"Aman! Its suicide. Their army is out there...and that demon!" shouted another Knight.

The Imperial unsheathed his sword, reaching into his coin pouch and pulled out a single septim, scarred on the face of Talos.

He smirked.

One by one, other armored foot steps followed behind.

The Knights of the Nine would not retreat.

The ten opened the massive doors, "Lock this behind us."

Blood flowed freely through the bridge towards the Keep. The gruesome remains of comrades and Rihad's soldiers chopped and sliced into dozens of pieces. The sight created a knot in Aman's stomach, ahead...through the abatis, fire and smoke was a contingent of dozens of Sentinel's infantry.

"It was an honor serving with you men." a Knight said to the others, before closing his visor. They nodded to each other in salute.

Aman gripped his blade tightly...

"Have at you."

And so they charged. Impossibly outnumbered by an enemy who would show no mercy. Atop the corpses of their friends and comrades they fought for what they, believed to be right.

"Arrrrgh!" it was a Sentinillean swordsman who broke the silence first, leaping over abatis and charging with his sword overhead. A Knight sent a spear into his abdomen, before unsheathing a blade.

The groups met in combat, blow for blow, sword for sword. The Knights fought the professional Army of Sentinel and found them lacking in the individual skill they themselves possessed.

Drunk with blood, drunk with victory...they attacked brutally and efficiently. Ten tigers cornered by hounds.

"For Talos!"

"For Arkay"

"For the Nine!"

The Yokudans slashed and thrusted, only to be met by blade and shield. Never finding the target they desired.

Aman dodged an axe aimed for his skull. Sending his sword into the throat of the man who meant to kill him.

Memories surfaced through his head...the evil he had committed in the name of the Nine. Under orders from Lysandra. His life given here, to offer time for others. This was his redemption.

Through the blood of my enemies, I'm baptized anew.

Another charged, another fell. His armor was crimson red, a tabbard soaked in the blood of the fallen. He witnessed the Yokudan ranks backing away from the Knights, their momentum finally halted.

This is what happens when an unstoppable force reaches an immovable object.

"By the grace of the Nine we'll win this war yet." shouted one of the Knights, wielding a battle axe most men could only hope to lift one day. He charged into the crowd of retreating men.

Fear had already won the battle for him as he hacked limb and bone, dodging feeble strikes, those that struck true did not pierce his armor.

A grazing of his helmet did not deter him as he kicked a man down, sending his axe to cleave his skull immediately after. A Juggernaut crushing scores of the enemy by himself.

These were the Knights in their finest hour.

Until the Redguard in Crimson approached. He wore a jeweled mask in the form of a Devil. Walking forward alone as the Yokudans watched not in fear, but awe.

His arm was wreathed in Violet flame.

The Knights circled around him, timidly.

The man wielding the axe grunted out.

"Its him."

They struck. They missed.

Vermilion spray filled the air, as the man wielding the axe lost his arms...still attached to his weapon. Four Knights attacked at once, their masterful blows and attacks meeting the Shehai only to be sundered effortlessly. The Crimson warrior moved quicker than their eyes could see. It seemed as if there was more than one at any given time.

"Die monster!" screamed a man before his torso was cleaved cleanly in half, his innards spilling onto the ground both behind and ahead of him. Flashes of violet light wisped through the air leaving a trail of odorless smoke.

The remaining Knights began to step back, flight winning over their fight instinct. All except Aman. Who walked towards sure destruction. Without hesitation he charged.

The Dominator dueling the Savior.

The broadsword sang as it sliced through the air, the Shehai moved to render it useless.

Alas, the Shehai did not cut through.

To the eyes of the Crimson warrior, to Haroun the High King. He caught the shimmer of a Greater being blocking the blow.

He would fight Talos.

The Knights and Yokudan soldiers looked on in wonder as these two ferocious warriors clashed in a battle which defied what anyone could have wondered.

The Shehai met the paltry steel of the Knight's sword time and again, only to be fought back. Aman moved quicker than any mortal man his comrades have known, even the Divine Crusader in his prime could never hope to match that speed. The force of his blows could be felt meters away, as the Elden Yokeda used every ounce of technique and knowledge he could employ as an Ansei. Neither gave quarter.

Haroun flickered through the air, appearing many places at once, always striking. Yet Aman's blade moved as if he had eight arms and swords, always parrying and quipping with a quick physical retort.

Twice the steel grazed against the War Mask of the High King. Haroun thrusted, followed by a fist with such strength and force behind it, a lesser man would have been crushed by the blow. Aman stepped to the side, slamming his blade into the Shehai, reeling it downwards as his helmet caught the fist.

His visor broken and the helmet dented, he continued.

Screaming and shouting, as Haroun witnessed the Divine Patron of his enemy striking where the Knight would not. In a single moment of hesitation, and wonder if this would be his final moment...a blade of unimaginable, fiery power...bright pink in color met that of the Human God King.

The HoonDing had joined the fray.

And so the mortals clashed as two reflections of the same mirror battled above them. Whenever Haroun outmaneuvered Aman, Talos' shield bore the brunt of the blow. Whenever Aman's broad sword came close to piercing the High King, the HoonDing's blade formed into a whip which sent the attack elsewhere.

The Yokudans were the first to take advantage and attempt to attack the Knights and Aman. As his blade danced and sung through the air, their blood and cries filled the night for all to hear. The Knight's emboldened, attempted to attack their enemy but the Dominator that was Haroun would have no such thing.

In a display of a technique found while in the midst of his fury following his wife's death, his Shehai moved in such speed and direction so as to form an orb of slashes around him. And alas, the two Champions were the only ones left alive on the bridge.

Haroun's Shehai burned brilliantly, as he slashed horizontally in line with Aman's waist, the Knight leapt back before dashing forward with a thrust aimed for the heart.

This blow, the High King did not dodge.

A life flashed before his eyes, as the broadsword pierced through his shoulder. He grabbed it with his gauntleted hand, holding it in place as his Shehai flashed.

The battle was over. Both warriors remained still.

As the wind came to pass, Aman gave in. A gush of blood had left his mouth, his torso nigh cut in half. Tears wrestled their way out the corners of his eyes.

The Violet light dissipated as eyes without mercy watched him breathe his last death.

Aman's body was not left disfigured. He was the only soul seen fit to be straightened out with his blade resting atop him in his hands.

To Forever Watch Over Rihad.

The Shehai sliced through the locked doors and gates of Rihad Keep as if a Scythe through Wheat.

The Crimson Devil stood alone, his Spirit Sword burning with blood lust.

He would find the hushed and huddled bodies of crying servants and children, abandoned by their leaders. And standing vigil in front of them was Tucharon.

"Your Majesty, I believe your wife would have wanted you to see this."

Heaven's Reach is Wide

Memories flashed before Haroun's eyes, his wedding day with Roxanna. Ever charming with Red roses in her hair, laughing and smiling.

The birth of his daughter, holding her with the utmost care.

Haroun...my love, this bloodshed is not you. Do not be consumed by the wars you wage for your Dream. Do not alienate the same people you once hoped to unite.

Now visions of all the blood he had shed to unite the very people he slaughtered crossed before his eyes, tears escaped his eyes as he held onto the memory stone.

The promises he made to her in the late hours of night where it was just them.

You must overcome the pain you feel. You must be better than your enemy. This is wrong and you must put a stop to it. Save our people.

I forgive you.

I love you.

A thousand memories flashed before him again, and again, and again.

He stared at her monument within the Royal Mausoleum. Removing a piece of parchment before securing it at the base of where she rested.

In those discouraging days I always missed the mark

When we were comfort and close I would neglect to keep

You safe and unexposed, a portrait of time repeats

This moment now replaced when an empty wish

To give, I give, I gave

I gave my everything for all the wrong things

In this cold reality I made this selfish war machine

Oh, this has become Hell

How can I share this life with someone else?

I promise you

There is no weight that can bury us

Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the Dark Side of me

Now in your absence I wade

Through the coursing, lonely lost

And in this tragic dismay

I never could believe what I became

I couldn't give you what you needed

It's all my fault

Too coward to believe I lost it all

I gave my everything for all the wrong things

In this cold reality I made this welcomed war machine

Oh, this has become Hell

How can I share this life with someone else

I promise you

There is no weight that can bury us

Beneath the Ghosts of all my Guilt

Here in the Dark Side of me

"Thank you Roxanna." he cried, "Andromeda will grow into a fine woman, we only hope she takes after her mother. May you have already crossed the Far Shores...but even if you will forget me on the other side...I promise I will carry out your wishes. I will never forget."

"You saved our Empire."

And with that he left, intent on bringing peace to all of the Ra Gada.

Epilogue:

The days following the Battle of Rihad Keep would see more battle from Pockets of Resistance, however the order for the Siege to cease was given immediately after. The High King had offered the Forebear Confederation a Yokedaship within the Yokudan Empire, whilst retaining their respective forms of governance. Queen Lelliana of Taneth headed the Confederation Council at the behest of her fellow councilmen.

The Knights of the Nine were allowed safe passage outside of Hammerfell and to Cyrodiil. Both Anvil and the Yokudan Empire held their word and allowed the men to say goodbye to their families and friends, along with enough food and supplies to make their journey. Isolated incidents of heated attacks and fights did occur, however no official sanction was given for such action.

The Yokudan Empire's military maintained a garrison to help with securing the cities of Rihad, Roseguard, and Taneth. The Hammerfell Union provided enough manpower, labor and coin in the restoration of all damages incurred by the War and Sieges both Roseguard and Rihad suffered. Riots and protest lasted in the areas most affected by the war many months after, yet in time starvation won out and the rations provided by the Yokudans began to win good will. A monument was erected in remembrance of the brave and innocent souls who lost their lives in the war. For no amount of food or coin could replace the lives lost. A sober reminder of the evil war brings.

In the months following the annexation of the Forebear confederation, independent City states within Hammerfell began negotiations concerning their inclusion into the Yokudan Empire.

The High King Haroun returned to Sentinel, and his daughter Andromeda. Administrating his Empire and fighting a new war of Laws and bureaucracy. A father now first and foremost, he was reported as being happier than had been seen in years. In pursuing his wife's last wishes, Andromeda was engaged to Auberon, the heir apparent to the realm of Anticlere. The arrangement concerned both parties retaining the respective sovereignty of their origins.

Bomlikar Barca, also known as the Demon Yokeda was finally given leave to return to his Yokeda. Without a war to fight the Sword of Ashir was forced to find a new way of life, in his realm. It is said the baby boom that followed the Barca army's return is what turned Gilane into one of the most populous cities of Hammerfell.

Andre Montblanc, was promoted to Field Command within the Shagun after his miraculous survival following the Siege. He took Office in Sentinel, under the careful tutelage of Mansel, head of the Shagun Secret Police.

Reports of a Red haired woman, bearing the ink of a dragon on her face were heard of in the regions of High Rock. Soon after the figure would disappear, and the reporter would disappear without a trace.

Abel, a young conscript within the Yokudan Rough Housers was returned home as part of a prisoner exchange. His wounds were not life threatening, yet for Valor in dire circumstances he was highly decorated and awarded a promotion to Sergeant within the Sentinel Infantry. He now enjoys a cush posting on the Walls of Sentinel.

Amn of Roseguard married a Yokudan soldier, after unknowingly tending his wounds thinking he was Rihad Militia. She kept his secret long enough for the ceasefire to be called. Months later she gave birth to a boy: Solomon Jr.

Aman of the Knights of the Nine was burned on a pyre within Rihad. His name bears the highest place on the monument for the fallen. In time, he too was forgotten.

A singing Colovian drunkard was forced out of both Rihad and Hammerfell for his disorderly, degenerate nature...even though he swore he killed dozens of Yokudans saving the city. Reports of a similar individual selling his sword in Cyrodiil persisted soon after.

Tucharon of the Imperial Battlemages took to a position within the Court of Sentinel, acting as an adviser under a different name. His background was kept secret to all except for the highest echelons of the Yokudan Government.

Baibars Ayuub still struggles with the internal politics and workings of his tribe and Yokedaship, none envy his position. The High King had granted him leave to handle to his affairs and keep the tribe in order.

Admiral Donovan was heavily decorated for his role in the war, its said his coat of medals is enough to sink a man in water. None the less the Admiral wears it with pride over any ocean.

The End.

Credits:

Thanks first and foremost to the wonderful writers of the IB Timeline.

Thanks to PersonfromAnticlere for being my Guinea Pig and reading the fan fiction as well as helping me out by adding in "The Inquisitor and the Shagun" and "The Sellsword" Chapters for his respective characters.

Thanks to Coheed and Cambria for providing my background music while I wrote this, as well as the words to Haroun's poem for Roxanna edited and taken from the song "The Dark Side of Me".

Thank you to the viewers!