Tales of the Iliac
Book 1: Throne of Chaos



Author's Note: Some terms might be familiar to the reader, as they are taken from the ImmortalBlood Timeline. As you read on (hopefully!), those familiar with the Timeline may notice that while there are some things taken from the Timeline, there are also some things that have been omitted from it by personal choice. And yes, I have asked ImmortalBlood himself if I could use the Timeline for some parts.

And yes, I did just realize the error on Iliac in the Title. Great start, eh?


Chapter 1: Crack in the Throne


4E4 Sun's Dawn 3rd, Wayrest


Even to the mightiest Lords of the land, she seemed imposing and powerful; able to seemingly tower over the tallest men and make the heartiest noble cower at her voice. Her beauty was astonishing, even at her age, as her simple silver dress hugged every alluring curve, whilst hiding them at the same time. A sheet of golden blonde hair fell onto her slender, delicate shoulders and gleamed in the light, framing her slim, beautiful face perfectly. Her brilliant emerald eyes pierced the hearts of those who stood in front of her and caused the most handsome man to look away, blushing at her intense gaze.

The way she sat on her intricate obsidian throne, with one leg resting on top of the other, her foot dangling loosely in their sparkling silver heeled shoes only added to her allure. A small slit in the side of her dress opened up from this pose, revealing long and slender thighs in a seductive manner, while her hands were clasped firmly together on her lap, staring unblinkingly ahead of her, as if waiting for someone to walk through the doors opposite of her.

To her left, an equally beautiful girl sat in a much simpler wooden throne-like chair, her hands clasped like the woman in the obsidian throne, and sitting in almost the exact same pose. To a casual observer, the women were identical, with the same golden hair that cascaded over her shoulders and the same piercing emerald eyes that seemed to stare into a person’s very heart. However, when one looked closely, they would notice subtle differences, the most prominent being that the girl in the wooden throne was quite a bit younger, by perhaps fifteen years. Her face was also slimmer, and her skin was not as creamy as her elder but more pale, and while her eyes were stunning, they also had a conniving and sinister feel to them, like she was always plotting something while she stared at you.

The two women stared at the door opposite their chairs, as did a young man who sat next to the young woman, except he did not stare unblinkingly at the door across the room. Instead, he looked around anxiously, his pale and narrow face clearly showing his discomfort at being next to the unmoving girl. His dirty blonde hair bounced around his ears as his head turned this way and that, and his green eyes squinted slightly as he looked back to the door that was getting all the attention while his skinny fingers tapped nervously, their pace growing faster and faster as the silence got more and more drawn out.

On his left, the young girl continued to stare at the door intently, but she heard the boy’s fingers tapping keenly and her stony face twitched ever so slightly as he got faster and louder with each tap. Her slender hand shot out suddenly, her fist closed as she slammed it into the boys’ smaller hands, crushing his skinny fingers between the wood of the chair and the hard fist of the not-so-harmless woman.

The girls hand was back in her lap in a flash, clasped tightly again as her stare never left the door while she ignored the quiet whimpering of the punished man boy next to her, though if one looked closely, a small smirk came upon the corners of her mouth, though it vanished in an instant as the hall went back to being still.

Several armed men in the vast hall glanced over at the duo of deadly women, a few of them exchanging knowing glances at the boys’ expense. The air in the hall was thick and tense, as the sound of clacking feet echoed in the distance outside the great oak doors that everyone’s attention was focused on. Two guards stood on either side, their gleaming halberds nearly touching tips a dozen feet above the ground at the center of the door, while they remained still and quiet.

Off to the side, a small group of men in simple white togas and tan tunics sat in the shadows of the overhanging balcony above. The most prominent of the group was an older man, roughly in his late forties with faded grey hair and extremely tanned skin.

His stare wasn’t fixed on the door, like everybody else’s, but on the older woman on the impressive throne. His eyes were an exotic almond shaped and coloured light brown, hinting away from his Bretic heritage to a more Ra’Gadic one. His stare was not as intense as the beautiful woman’s, but was more calming and gentle yet calculating at the same time, with experience and wisdom etched into every wrinkle on his face as well as a humbleness that betrayed his muscular body. His were eyes sombre and doleful hinting at a troubled past, or perhaps a troubled present and an aura of power radiated from him, almost demanding respect from those around him.

To his right sat almost what seemed like the opposite to the humble old man. The young face was pale and unmarred, and his eyes shone like crystals, while his handsome face held a cocky smirk on it, revealing perfect teeth, as his slender frame betrayed the muscular body beneath. His fingers tapped on the arm of the chair as well, but he knew to remain silent as he did so, his arrogant expression fixed on the young boy among the two women in the room. Unlike the older man sitting calmly next to him, this man had an aura of confidence and cockiness, as well as arrogance to things around him.

The hall itself was inspiring, as the roof rose fifty feet above the white marble floor, forming a high dome above them, and was covered with intricate paintings and frescos, and the wall were covered in overlapping bas reliefs of old Kings and Queens, as well as depictions of Gods. Stained glass windows were spaced evenly around the room, letting colourful streaks of light pour into the room as the heroes and saints depicted on them kept silent visage on the room.

Everything in the hall seemed frozen in time, until the footsteps in the hall beyond the door grew closer, and heads began to turn and stares were met, as silent conversations of facial expressions pvssyred away in the grand marble hall.

The steps stopped suddenly, and there was complete silence outside the doors, until.... Boom, boom, boom!, came the heavy knocking from behind the oak doors. The guards standing inside glanced at the woman on the throne, before raising their axed weapons away from each other and grasping a large golden handle each and pulling the doors into the hall, disappearing from sight behind the mighty portals.

In the doorway stood an old man, dressed in a mauve toga and with a deep purple sash running across his chest from the top left to bottom right, stitched intricately with golden eagles and silver stars. The man himself was aged, with pure white hair, an unblemished but wrinkled face and pale skin, going hand in hand with his cold eyes and smug expression. Behind him followed a tall but nervous looking youth, who wore basic tanned clothes and carried a large sack over his shoulders that jingled slightly as he shifted its weight.

They were flanked by two guards, armed and dressed similarly to the two door guards and as he walked into the hall, the doors were shut behind him, the two doormen returning to their statue-like poses as their halberds crossed above the door again.

The toga adorned man stepped forwards, stopping on an elaborate mosaic of a deep red rose and bowed respectfully to the woman in front of him, his eyes looking up as a sinister smile etched onto his old face to reveal slightly yellow and crooked teeth.

“Lady Elysana, how good to see you again.” He said, in a voice that fit his appearance well, crackling out from his skinny throat.

The younger woman scowled at the man, leaning forwards slightly in her seat while seething quietly. The addressed woman remained calm, staring into the man’s cold eyes with incredible intensity for such a frail looking lady as she spoke.

“Queen Elysana to you, Alexandre Vanne.” She said firmly, her voice soft but far from gentle; calm yet demanding as she had practiced for years. It was a deadly combination.

The man bowed again, but not as low and his eyes never left the woman, Elysana, as he did so, causing the younger woman behind the Queen to shift slightly again. Alexandre’s gaze flickered past the Queen in front of him to the fidgety girl and a smirk came across his face.

“Ah, Miss Vienne.” he said, his voice spitting acid with every word. “How lovely to see you as well.” He did not bow to the young girl, Vienne, but merely stared at her for a second longer, smirking still as he awaited the expected response from the headstrong girl.

“Tis’ never a pleasure when it involves you, Alexandre.” She spat, eyeing the man with a deep loathing, though she sat back in her chair. Her voice was rather harsher than one would expect for such a regal looking girl, and carried an accent that did not fit her noble status.

The old man simply chuckled as he looked back at Elysana, who remained expressionless at the exchange between the two, allowing her daughter to vent now, so she wouldn’t interrupt during the actual discussion. There was a silence in the room, as the old man stared at Elysana, who stared right back, her body calm and relaxed but her eyes intense and focused, drilling into the old man, who blinked first.

“Shall we get down to it then?” he asked, his cold eyes drifting around the room to observe all the people who watched the exchange before turning back the Queen.

Elysana nodded, and remained quiet, indicating that the man should begin. Alexandre scowled as he cleared his throat; hating how she controlled every meeting they had with ease. He was no foolish diplomat either, having served the Lords of Daggerfall for nearly forty years and seeing his fair share of diplomatic meetings.

“As we near the end of the first year since the end of the Siege of Sentinel, once minor changes in the Bay are becoming more noticeable as the powers shift.” He said, referring to the infamous invasion of Imperial forces into Hammerfell.“As I’m sure you’re well aware, High Rock has become more divided because of the events than any other province.”

Elysanas’ eyes narrowed at the words, knowing well that many vassal states had slipped away from her grasp while she was focused down south. Her ambitions had gotten the best of her, as did her need to best her stepbrother, King Helseth.

“The purpose of this meeting is to discuss the Treaty of Koegria and its terms; which, may I add, Daggerfall has lived up to accurately.”

The Treaty the man spoke of had been signed exactly two months before the war in Sentinel had begun, and Elysana still enjoyed the benefits Wayrest gained from it. Her mind raced as she waited for the man to continue. There was no issue with the Treaty that she knew of...

“The Treaty clearly states that while Wayrest is the dominating power in the province, than Daggerfall must pay a tribute to continue trade with Wayrest, as well as her vassal states. It also kept swords in their sheaths and brought a peace about the land which hasn’t been known for years.” He said, stating a section in the treaty.

Elysana stared hard at the man, her eyes almost daring him to say what she knew he was going to say next, though she remained at ease with the rest of her body.

“It has become clear, recently, that the state of Northpoint, Sharnhelm and everything north of Raven Spring has officially declared their independence from Wayrest, including the unfortunate separation of Jehenna from High Rock.”

The Queen finally broke her unmoving pose as her hand clenched the thrones arm tightly as she remembered vividly how the states had broken off, Jehenna even becoming part of Skyrim. In front of her, Alexandre smiled inwardly, loving the clear anguish he was causing the woman and the fact he normally never gained the upper hand in their meetings.

“My Lord, King Leon Ancois Daggerfallian has come to the educated conclusion, that Wayrest is no longer the dominating power in High Rock anymore, and as the Treaty state, it is quite clear that the requirements you have to meet are... well not being met anymore.” He said slyly, noting with a glance that many off to the side were watching closely now with wide eyes. “In the last paragraph of said Treaty, it clearly states that once a single requirement is failed to be met, than the Treaty itself is void and all other conditions are void as well.” He declared with some flair, before snapping his fingers above his head. The young boy that accompanied him scurried forwards, the contents of the sack he carried jingling distinctly on his shoulder. He dropped it in front of the Queen’s throne and hurried back behind his master, eyes always on the floor and a slightly terrified look on his face.

Elysana craned her neck to look inside the open top of the burlap sack and saw, not the expected gold payment from Daggerfall, but instead, pieces of scrap iron and some cheap iron cutlery. Her heart raced as her face contorted into one of fury, marring her beautiful features as she stood up from her throne, reaching an impressive height as she looked down upon the devious old man with contempt. As she spoke however, her voice was calmer than one would expect from someone in her position.

“Indeed, the Treaty is nullified, as are all conditions to be met by Daggerfall.” She looked hard at the man, hating every inch of him, but knowing that her ambitions were the reason for this. “The times are changing rapidly, and Wayrest grows stronger and more advanced by the day, while petty Daggerfall grasps onto dying traditions and its old ways like a child would grasp its blanket.”

She took a step forward, coming down from the raised dais where she sat, towering above the man who attempted to match her stare. “Take your scrap iron back to your King, and tell him that he may break the Treaty and cease all tributes with Wayrest if it is his wish.” She paused for a moment, glancing pointedly at the old, dark-skinned man to the side of the room who remained the calmest of the host of people in the hall before looking back at Alexandre.

“However, when you return to your King, you can inform him that Wayrest merchants will no longer be setting foot in Daggerfall, or docking at your harbour, thus cutting all trade between the cities. We will make sure those states that remain in our power, will do so as well.”

The shock that came to the old man’s face was clear and satisfying to the irritated Queen, but he quickly regained composure and nodded his head. “Indeed I shall inform my Lord of those words, but let me give you a warning of my own, fair lady.” He said, glancing around the room so all would listen. His gaze drifted over to a group of men who wore deep blue robes, who seated themselves separate from everyone else, and were clearly outsiders from the city, though seemed familiar with the hall. “Watch your back, Wolf Queen, for even you yourself said that change is hitting the land hard, and while you may not know it, new ideas are being told and accepted, as radical people step forward to take gain in the chaos that is ensuing. Not even the mightiest nation can resist its people when they desire change!”

He let the last few sentences hang in the air, before nodding discreetly at the group of out-of-place men in the corner and bowing quickly before turning and leaving. The doors opened only a crack for him, though he paid it no attention as he made his way swiftly through the marble halls with a smirk on his face.

In the hall, the silence was thick and menacing, as Elysana remained standing where she had been, a stare that could kill etched onto her face as she glared at the back of the retreating man. As Alexandre’s footsteps began fading away, the hall broke out into urgent whispers as many men walked away in a hurry to go and spread the news of the meeting, while other noble men remained and spoke to each other.

Elysana spun around and walked off past her throne and through a door behind it, two guards following at a respectful distance behind her. The young woman, Vienne, stood as well, shooting an evil glare at the young man next to her, fixed her simple dress and began walking towards the doors.

“Sister, wait! Where are you going?” the young boy called out, jumping up from his chair, with a scowl on his face. “Should we not go meet with mother, with Sophia and Yvonne?”

Vienne made a dismissive noise and continued walking, leaving her brother standing alone. As she walked she drew the eyes of the unmarried, young nobles in the hall as her slender body moved like a willow tree, her long legs taking lengthy strides, as her leather boots clacked with each step. She exited the door, and adjusted something on the outside of her thigh that remained hidden from view, before hurrying off through the halls to the main gates.

Still the hall, the young, cocky man who had sat off to the side turned to the elder man next to him, and spoke softly,

“What do you figure that lunatic was talking about?”

The old man glanced over to regard the young man, but his gaze floated back over to the blue robed men in the corner as he spoke, his voice coming out softly.

“Exactly what he said, Timothy.”

“War?” the young man, Timothy, asked with eagerness that the old man did not miss.

He shook his head slightly, watching the strange men talking. “Perhaps in the future. But for now... Change.” He said simply, standing from his chair, patting the rather confused youth on the shoulder and walking away, staring at the men in the robes as he exited the hall, unable to hear their whispered conversation.

The same robed men watched as the dark skinned Breton walked past them, and they lowered their voices or stopped all together. They had heard the old man and the young one talking a few feet away from them, and they could only smile deviously. Change was indeed about to come to the Bay, and the tallest robed man, who carried an air of power around him smiled as he planned on making those changes happen.

Chapter 2: Information... At a Cost




4E4 Sun's Dawn 3rd, Wayrest


The slender figure of Vienne made its way through the maze-like streets of Wayrest’s poor district, with clear haste. To the many hidden eyes that watched her, she seemed distracted and focused only on the road ahead of her, and many thugs entertained the idea of attacking the beautiful and seemingly helpless girl who was walking in their territory. However, as she walked past them, they instantly backed off once they saw her face, recognizing it instantly, as did the majority of men and women in the area.

The streets themselves were narrow and littered with refuse, bodily wastes and even an unconscious bum lying on the cobbled roads, basically unnoticed by people who passed by. It was already growing dark in this part of the city as the rickety apartments stood high and blocked the light from illuminating the streets below. Already, the shady figures were beginning to emerge from their dirty homes and going about business that they preferred to do by the cover of darkness.

Vienne’s focus seemed to be turned inwards as she made her way through the familiar streets, and indeed her focus was not outward as it should have been in such dangerous streets, even with her reputation. Her thoughts were more on the situation that was unfolding all of a sudden in Wayrest and how it might affect her when she inevitably inherited the crown from her aging mother.
Vienne had silently opposed her mother when she made the decision to send troops into the Sentinel conflict down south, and she had watched first hand while vassal kingdoms broke away from Wayrest and secured their independence from her foolish mother. Elysana had let her ambitions get in her way, and Vienne knew the people’s respect for her had dropped since then.

She shook her head in disgust at her mother and what she had done. Though the sun had gone down, the warm sea breeze continued to gust into the city, making for a rather comfortable walk for the lightly dressed princess. The dress she wore was long and elegant, but simple to keep her from sticking out too much in the dock areas she was in, and the long silvery cloak she wore helped to add to the “mysterious and dangerous woman” look she enjoyed so much.

She was still deep in her thoughts when a short and skinny figure burst from a narrow alley to her left, hitting her hard around the ribs and bringing her to the dirty ground. She struggled as her left wrist was grabbed and held in place above her head, while the attackers other hand was nowhere to be seen.

She figured out its location a second later as the sound of a blade being pulled from a simple wooden sheath made its distinct sound in the woman’s ears, causing her to struggle all the harder. Next thing she knew, the cold steel of the blade was pressing hard against her tender neck, as she calmed instantly as most people would.

“Your money.” said a male voice haltingly in Bretic. She remained quiet, testing the position they were in, with the boys left knee now pinning her left wrist while his right hand held her right hand tight to the ground. He was basically kneeling on her and Vienne doubted she was stronger than the man, but the way he was sitting allowed her legs some freedom.

She feigned absolute fright as she began to sob, though no tears actually fell as she felt the boys’ knife hand relax noticeably. The instant he did so, she brought her right knee up into the man’s exposed groin, and as his body snapped upwards, she slip her left hand from under his knee, forming a fist and slamming it into the side of his face, dropping him to the street as Vienne hastily scrambled upwards, her hand shooting up her dress.

The man looked up at the woman, a sick feeling in his stomach from the knee he received and an even more sinking feeling as he looked down the end of a most unusual contraption that the woman held, pointed at his head.

It was clearly a crossbow that she held, except it was no bigger than her hand, being seemingly shrunk down. The bolt that was fitted into it was deadly looking, and in the slight light, even he could make out a shining liquid smeared on the tip. He gulped nervously as his face broke into a smile.

“Mistake, yes?” he said frantically, holding his hands up innocently, the knife lying forgotten where Vienne had been lying. Vienne took a step closer, finally getting a close look at the man, but as she looked closely, it was not a man. Her attacker could not have been more than fourteen or fifteen and seemed to be of Ra’Gada heritage which would explain the poor grasp of Bretic.

She stared hard at the boy, the miniature crossbow still pointed between his eyes as she decided what to do. He had tried to kill, or at least rob her after all, but she knew she wouldn’t have it in her to kill a boy his age. She sighed and began lowering her weapon and when the boy nervously rose to his knees, and when she nodded curtly, he stood up, bowed to her numerous times and ran off without his knife, loudly muttering prayers to whatever gods he believed in.

Vienne bent down to pick up the blade that rested on the ground, inspecting its rusted edges with disdain. She put the weapon in the laces of her long, black boots and stood up straight to look around.

“Never thought I’d see tha day when Vienne is caught off guard.”

Vienne turned quickly, hand-crossbow raised at the new voice that sounded so familiar to her. From the shadows stepped another short figure, wearing tan pants and matching vest and sharp leather boots. His hair was long and unkempt, but not greasy like most in the area and it fell well past his eyes though he kept it swept off to each side of his face.

He clearly would have been a shady and avoidable character if it wasn’t for his facial appearance. Vienne couldn’t help but chuckle out loud as she regarded his face and how young he was.

“But I was only looking for some excitement Jack!” she exclaimed with another chuckle as she walked to wards her “old” friend. Jack had never told her how old he really was, but she couldn’t put him much past sixteen, if that; and yet he was a major player on the east docks and had carved out his own little “empire” of smuggling and drugs.

“Shoulda come to my room than if excitement is what ya wanted.” he said slyly, throwing the woman a wink as they stood next to each other and shook hands.

“You can keep pushing for that Jack, but I would never stoop to that low of a level.” came the sharp reply from the woman who winked right back, adding a playful punch to his shoulder as they began walking down the street.

“Deny me all ya want, dearest Vienne,” he said with an over-dramatic flair, “but I know who ya be thinking of when you’re alone in your bed at night!”

“Oh shut up, you little pervert.” she said, grinning widely at the boy’s jokes and flair. He was not shy at all and it helped when he was dealing with the most intimidating thugs or the most seductive women.

They walked in silence for a little while as they began getting into the dock area proper, and passed many warehouses and such. Taverns also increased in frequency as they got closer to the waterfront itself, and they saw dozens of docked sailors walking into the establishments with smile son their faces at the opportunity of good drink and fine women after long journeys.

“So what new info do you have Jack?” Vienne asked as they turned down another street, the area around them beginning to come to life as the cities underbelly began to awake while the well off were getting ready for sleep.

Jack looked over at her curiously, having to look up at the slightly taller woman. “That would take hours my dear lady.” he told her confidently with a grin.

“Oh piss off, you know what I meant!” Vienne snapped, not always the most patient with the boy. He enjoyed his little games and she only had so much patience with them.

Her outburst made Jack smile even wider, his innocent boyish smile betraying his complex personality. “Regarding your questions earlier...” he said, glancing over at the attractive woman with his boyish grin, “I have gained some ‘insight’ on the matter at hand.”

Vienne scowled at the boy, as she reached into her cloak, and untied a small sack of coins that she had kept hidden throughout the attempted mugging. She dropped it into his outstretched hands with a few muttered curses while he smiled widely and tucked it into his pants pocket.

“Not going to count it?” Vienne asked sarcastically.

Jack shrugged carelessly as they continued their walk through the darkening streets of the dock area.

“I guess I’ve come to trust ya.” he said nonchalantly.

Vienne looked over rather surprisingly, a mischievous grin on her face. “I thought you didn’t trust anyone?”

“Maybe that is what’s been holdin’ me back all these years.” he said quietly.

Vienne looked over at the boy curiously, as she had never heard him speak so openly before. “Held you back?” she echoed incredulously. “You basically own a fifth of the docks and you’re not even legally an advlt! I think...” she added jokingly, but when she saw the boy didn’t drop the melancholy she pressed forwards. “You have ears everywhere on the waterfront, in places my mother could only dream of having them and you even have contacts in Daggerfall, Sentinel, Orsinium and only you and Akatosh know where else!”

Jack looked over, an impossible look to read etched onto his face. “Ya forgot Evermore.” he said quietly, but he couldn’t suppress the boyish grin that crept onto his face again, bringing about a chuckle from Vienne.

She stopped chuckling a second later as she was the one to become serious all of a sudden. “I’m going to need you when I inherit my mother’s throne, you know.”

Jack looked over at her curiously. “Why do ya think I’ve been helpin’ ya this whole time?” he asked rhetorically, taking his turn to try and lighten the mood.

Vienne smiled mechanically but returned to talking in a serious tone. “I mean it. My mother’s one weakness, well besides her insatiable ambition, is that she doesn’t utilize people like you.”

“Sounds like someone I know...” he remarked. “The ‘insatiable ambition’ part that is.” He looked up at the dark sky with a smile and spoke. “By then, I’ll have extended my network tenfold.” He said, with some assurance.

“That day may be sooner then you’re expecting.” came the swift response from the cloaked woman.

Jacks head snapped down from his skyward gaze and he stopped as he stared hard at Vienne. She stopped and looked at him curiously, tilting her head in a mock-cute angle. “What?” she asked.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but closed it and shrugged and kept on walking. His mind raced with questions as he kept a close watch on the girl next to him. Suddenly, she seemed ten times as devious and a hundred times more deadly than before. He knew he was going to have to keep a closer eye on her from now on.

They walked in silence for a while longer, as the night-life of Wayrest’s waterfront began in earnest around them, with shady characters selling illegal goods from their jacket pockets and scantily dressed women approaching nervous looking men in seductive poses.

They rounded another corner and came into plain view of the harbour and the many ships that were docked for the night. Many of the ships were in the process of being unloaded with sailors and dock men running up and down wooden ramps that connected the ships with the boardwalk. Jack received dozens of friendly calls from all around them as they made their way to a brightly lit tavern that had a constant flow of sailors coming in with friends and going out with lady friends and large smiles on their faces. Vienne couldn’t believe the attention Jack got in the heart of his little ‘empire’, and how much they all respected him. Or feared him; Vienne couldn’t quite tell which.

They walked through the open doorway of the tavern, which had a fine wooden sign hanging above it, with the words The Lusty Mermaid carved into it. A chorus of greeting met their ears, most of them directed at Jack, but a few lewd men made suggestive remarks at the well known figure of Vienne. She simply gave them all a series of rude hand gestures as she followed Jack through the maze of round tables and into a door at the back, to his private room.

As they entered, a large green humanoid walked past them, a heavy looking club on his belt and a set of brass knuckles on his large fists. Vienne laughed at how obedient the huge Orc was to the small boy, as he closed the door, and no doubt stood outside it to protect his master.

The room itself was round and not all that large, measuring about twenty feet across and maybe nine feet high. It was lavishly decorated for such a seedy area, with three squishy armchairs as well as a large, regal-looking and comfy chair behind the desk, which was were Jack took a seat. Intricate tapestries of various subjects hung from the walls, embroidered with gold and silver threads and gemstones. The floor was polished stone but a large, plush carpet covered most of the cold floor and many rumours said it was made out of Minotaur fur off their winter coats. Jack never confirmed that rumour, though he would smile slyly whenever he was asked. The room was windowless but still well lit by two burning torches in decorative brackets on Jacks flanks, which were augmented by a half dozen candles set in fine candle holders on his desk.

The desk itself was nearly ten feet long, and being set towards the back of the circular room, it took went nearly wall to wall. It was made of beautifully crafted oak, polished so it shone like steel and its corners were covered in gold plates and carved with flowing patterns.

Vienne sat on the middle armchair, each with its own footstool and small table next to it for drinks or food. To the left side of the door, was a short, wide cabinet made almost entirely of glass and filled with the most basic to some of the most exotic alcohols in Tamriel, as well as beautiful silver glasses.

Vienne held back another chuckle as the boy put his feet up on the table and leaned back in his chair, a glass of fine wine already poured for him.

“A drink, my dear?” he asked politely.

Vienne shook her head briskly making Jack shrug before taking a sip of his drink. Vienne stared at him intently but he seemed to space out, staring hard at the door as if he forgot she was even in the room. She cleared her throat loudly with some impatience, causing the boy to snap out of his daydreams and back to the situation.

“Sorry my love, my mind was hundreds of miles away!” he exclaimed, taking another sip of wine before looking back at Vienne.

“I knew you had contacts further out.” she teased, drawing a chuckle from the boy. “But enough chit chat.” she said, becoming serious again; a clear edge in her voice again. “My mother will begin to wonder and I don’t want her sending out the Watch again to bring me home.”

Jack smiled widely, remembering when members of the guard had raided the tavern, unable to find his hidden room in the back while they listened with silent laughter as they left in defeat. However, he did not want to cost his friend, the barkeeper, any business so he inclined his head and began.

“The last time we met, ya asked me to accomplish a very broad mission.”

“I figured you could handle it...” she said, thinking he had failed in his job for her.

“Oh but I; sorry we did. As in my associates and me.” He paused to take another sip before continuing on. “Wayrest is headed for trouble, of that, I think we can all be certain about.” Vienne opened her mouth to speak but Jack held his hand up to stop her. “However, it is not all out war that I believe will attempt to bring your mother to her knees.” he told her, though he stopped again to take another sip of his wine, leaving Vienne leaning forward anxiously to listen on.

“Well?” she asked, the edge creeping into her voice again.

“We could not find out for sure.” he admitted with some defeat in his voice. “However, I have a name which may benefit you.”

Vienne, who had looked away to mouth some swears at his apparent failure snapped her head back to the stare at the boy. “Who?” she asked.

“A man by the name of Francis Illryn.” he told her. “I think ya’ve heard of him?”

Vienne nodded slowly, recognizing the name but not able to completely match it to a face. Jack saw her confusion so he continued.

“Francis Jameson Illryn, forty-nine years old, citizen of Wayrest, Lord of House Illryn on the east outskirts of Wayrest’s. Owns a minor farm estate but well known for supporting the abolishment of the death penalty in Wayrest six years ago, and being quite a thorn in your mother’s side as he did so, calling her a barbarian and... a ruthless witch?” he said with a sly grin.

Vienne nodded as she remembered the troublesome man, though she still couldn’t quite picture him yet. She remembered clearly now how many times he had seen the man around the castle stirring up protests and general mischief in the city.

“What does he have to do with this?” she asked, slightly confused.

“No idea.” replied the rogue simply.

She stared at him for a second, before saying, with some acid in her voice, “What exactly am I paying you for?”

Jack raised an eyebrow in disbelief, taking his feet off the table and leaning forwards, his elbows on the desk and his chin resting on his folded hands. “You are in my home now, Lady of Wayrest, not your large castle and you would do well to remember that. Your manners are that of a drunken Orc and keep in mind that, unlike your fancy castle, there is nobody to protect you here, in the bowels of the city.”

Vienne’s eyes widened considerably, but narrowed quickly as she responded in as calm a voice as she could muster. “Is that a threat, Jack?”

“A warning.” came the curt response.

“I could have your head on a platter in a hour.” she spat.

“Your guards would never find me.” he told her confidently. “You said yourself that I never trust anybody completely.”

Vienne stood from her chair, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled for words. Jack remained in his pensive pose, his eyes looking sadly at his friend.

“Please sit down.” he requested politely. His eyes shot over to a floor length tapestry opposite of the liquor cabinet as he said this, and Vienne could barely make out a slight movement before it went still again.

She gave the boy a deadly look but sat down on the chair again, though she didn’t sit back. A deadly silence followed their argument, as Jack continued sipping his drink eyeing Vienne warily, though he trusted his hidden guards. Finally Vienne broke her silent fuming and asked, “Well is that all you have for me than?”

Jack shook his head, which surprised the angry woman as her mad face melted into one of interest. “Ya know the man Feralis Yeomcroft?” he asked, referring to the half Ra’Gadic general of Wayrest.

Vienne nodded slowly, unsure of where Jack was going with this. “Yes, what about him?”

“My boys in Sentinel report of frequent visits to the city in the last six months.”

“We are aware.” Vienne said quickly. “My mother uses him for his relationship with King Soscean. Plus he is useful enough of a soldier.”

“What about a father?” Jack asked swiftly.

Vienne’s eyes narrowed quickly at his words but she remained silent for a moment, forcing her anger away and turning it into a painful looking smile. “I wouldn’t call a man who saw ten minutes of me in my first five years of life a father.”

“I don’t believe Wayrest was at war when ya were five...” he stated.

Vienne flashed him a dirty look. True, her father had never cared much for her and though she pretended to not care on the outside, it hurt a little on the inside.

“What is your information on him?” she asked calmly, changing the subject pointedly.

Jack nodded understandingly and cleared his throat. “Well if he is visiting Soscean, they aren’t meeting in the Palace. My boys say he’s been frequenting the shadier districts and their taverns.”

Vienne remained silent for a while, trying to think of what he was doing but she couldn’t figure it out so she shrugged it away. “That is all?” she asked, rising from her seat.

Jack nodded and stood as well, reaching across his fine desk to shake her hand. “Until our next meeting.” he said, and waved her good bye as she walked out of the door, past the large Orc guard and out onto the streets, back to the Castle.

Inside the tavern, as she exited the building, a blue-robed man watched her leave, than entered the room she had just been in, nodding at the Orc guard before the door was closed behind him.


Comments, criticism, anything is welcome!

Well, I got back to work on this and as I see people have viewed it I hope in bringing some interest to it, which means comments people! Even a: "You svck!" means people have read it!


Chapter 3: Meetings

4E4 Sun's Dawn 5th, Wayrest


The fire that shone in the room illuminated the wrinkles and scars of the elderly man's face, as he let another long sigh escape his lips. He glanced around the room again, seeing his look of weariness and depression was shared by everyone, including Elysana who sat to his left at the head of the grand table. The only person who seemed to have a hint of a smile was a young lad who sat across from the elderly man, as he pulled another piece of parchment from the pile on the table and studied it.

"We should head north." he remarked, glancing up to see if anybody was listening.

"We have been over this before Timothy...." remarked the old man.

"But why not?" replied the young Timothy, a slight whine in his voice, like he was a child being deprived of a treat. "States close to our own are openly dropping out of the League of Wayrest, and I think that an aggressive move north would let them know we are still in charge."

There were several audible sigh's from the far end of the table, where the two dozen or so minor nobles sat, separated from the Queen and her family and the more influential people of her court. Elysana remained motionless, with her head in her hand, so Vienne took her mother's silence and spoke.

"Do you not think, you fool?" she spat, drawing a small chuckle from the men around the table. "The cities you speak of are minor and not a threat to us at the moment. To wage war on a city like Wind Keep or Norvulk would most likely bring Evermore into our growing list of unfriendly cities."

"But a strong aggressive march north and taking both cities quickly might force Evermore into submission, right Feralis?" Timothy said, looking over to the old man across from him.

"Both good points," he said, nodding to Vienne and Timothy, "but Vienne has the right idea I think. Our list of potential enemies does not need to get longer and Evermore has clearly shown their support to the small cities around her."

Vienne didn't take the man's compliment with a smile, or even by returning a nod as she continued to stare at Timothy. Her younger sisters sat next to her but remained silent, as they were here only because their mother was forcing them to be. Most of the time, Vienne pretended to not be related to the two idiotic girls as well as her bumbling brother.

"Well who do we have for allies?" asked a minor noble and army officer from the other end of the table drawing a wave of agreement to go over who was still loyal.

Elysana looked up, but remained silent so Feralis answered the man instead. "Our true allies that still support the League of Wayrest are Menevia, Orsinium and Gauvadon. So far we have lost Alcaire, Wind Keep, Norvulk and Koergria, but we have no reason to force them to rejoin with us at the moment."

"What about trying to convince Sharnhelm or Northpoint to join the League?" asked Timothy.

Feralis shook his tanned, balding head. "They are beyond our control, as is the Reach now. Our concern should be immediate east, to the ever independent Evermore who will try to rally as many of the small cities and towns to at least drop their support to us."

Many nods of agreement came from around the table at the aging man's words, although a few heads were shaking amongst the known "war party" of the Royal Court and Timothy looked as if he was on the edge of a tantrum. Elysana sensed this, and spoke finally, causing the room to grow quiet.

"General Greenwardaen," she said to Timothy, "I have a task for you if you wish."

Timothy sat up straight at her words, wondering what it could be, and the old Feralis sat up as well. He didn't think she was going to appoint him the task after the man's continued request of war at the meeting.

"I want groups of patrols to keep watch on our northern borders and I want you to take charge of said patrols." There was some loud whispering as she paused but a quick sweep of the table with her deadly eyes brought silence back to the room.

"You are not to cross over into Norvulk or Wind Keep's lands, and you will not attack unless provoked first. Do you understand?" she asked sternly. "You are there simply for security reasons as well as diplomatic ones and I will not have you begin a war."

"Yes my lady, I won't fail you." The lad responded eagerly, his smile beaming around the room as many of the minor members of the Court glared ominously at the cocky young man.

Feralis remained passive, as the news came as no surprise to him. The two had spoken earlier about it and Feralis had only expressed his concern about the boy doing something rash which Elysana had dismissed.

"My lady," started a land-owning noble form the end of the table, "do you not think it unwise to show a military force on our borders? Evermore may think it to be a threat."

Elysana always knew there would be the nay-sayers which is why she always had a response ready for every action. Another reason she led the state with such authority.

"Right now, Gauvadon must feel torn, as I'm sure Evermore had put pressure on them to drop out of the League." She looked around the table, her eyes meeting Feralis'. "We must reassure the support of our allies. By sending patrols we can give them peace of mind that we are still there to protect them in any coming conflict which will hopefully keep them loyal to us."

The noble bowed his balding head and remained silent. Another man spoke up, his white hair glinting in the light like it was silver. He was Gregory Smithfield, Admiral of the Royal Wayrest Navy and a strong supporter of the aggressive "war party".

"I agree with young Timothy on a more aggressive strategy, but I believe another direction must be observed." He tossed a stack of parchment onto the table, nodding his head to indicate that they could be looked at.

"Reports have only just come in from my navy of a recent coup in Bhoriane."

His words caused an instant wave of hurried whispered, some panicky but most sounded intrigued. He smiled as he gained their attention and continued.

"However, even though it was a success at first, there has been some infighting amongst the members of the rebellious men and now the small, independent state knows civil war." He stopped only long enough to take a breath, not wanting to be interrupted.

"I propose," he said, his voice growing louder to counter the many whispered conversations, "that a fleet be sent west. We could quell the war, put down any men who posed a threat to us then install a leader who is friendly to Wayrest from the group of men loyal to the dead King. We could pull the strings while remaining in the shadows and the people of Bhoriane would never have to know that we controll them. We would have eyes on the other side of the bay, and given the time and funds, a strong port to house a navy in case Daggerfall wishes to grow bold."

The whispers grew into many voices of outrage at the man's plan as angry arguments broke out around the table. The strongest coming from the opposite "peace party" of Wayrest who desired no conflict with any state.

"You'd have us in war before the month was out you fool!" came a shout from a small, wiry man in dark purple clothes.

"Daggerfall would never allow it!" came a following cry.

"Daggerfall would never know." responded Gregory calmly. "Our men would arrive without any standards of Wayrest, instead looking like a warlord hired by the loyalist faction and when the war was over, we would put in a leader who would be nothing more than a puppet."

The angry conversations began to die down as Elysana sat up straighter, indicating she was about to speak. Every eye turned to their leader to see if she would allow for the risky expedition.

"I think an expedition to Bhoriane is an excellent idea. They are independent and Evermore cannot possibly support them, politically or otherwise. However, I must express the importance that nobody realizes it is Wayrests doing and that the man you appoint as the "leader" must be completely loyal to us."

"Of course my lady." bowed Gregory. "And if it's not too much, I request to lead this expedition so I may meet my contacts in the city before hand."

Elysana said nothing at first, her eyes wandering over to Feralis to see his expressionless face and then over to Vienne. They met eyes for only a second but they broke contact right away as Elysana nodded to Gregory.

"I can't think of a better man." she said.

Gregory bowed lowly, a small smile on his tanned face as he brushed back his long, silvery hair. "I shall leave now than, if that is okay with everybody." He said looking around. Elysana nodded and he bowed again, gathered his tri-pointed naval hat and documents from the table and left with four men following him out obediently like dogs.

"I think we've settled everything for today than." Elysana announced suddenly. Without waiting for a response, she stood, as did everybody else at the table, and made her way out of the room, her children following her except for Vienne.

As the room emptied, only Feralis and Vienne remained as their eyes met.

"You said nothing of Illryn." Feralis remarked in his soft voice.

Vienne shrugged. "I did not think it was important at the moment. He is a small time noble, not even worthy of this meeting and one who may not even be a threat."

"He is a threat, I can tell you that."

Vienne's eyes narrowed dangerously, as she cocked her head to the side. "How can you be sure?"

"Please my lady, do not think of me as an old fool." He chuckled, though the laugh was one he shared alone. "My sources are skilled and I do not rely on one small man to do my listening for me."

"Nor do I." she responded, though her mind raced as she wondered how he knew about Jack.

Feralis just smiled an unconvinced smile and changed the subject. "General Greenwarden's appointed task confuses you." He did not ask the woman, but told her.

"He is a bumbling idiot." She snarled.

Feralis smiled lightly, rubbing his balding head as the firelight reflected off of his dark eyes. "You also do not agree with your mothers' decision to go to Bhoriane."

"I fear Daggerfall will learn of our mischief." She told him with a shrug. "Do you agree with it?"

The old man stayed quiet as he pondered the question, his eyes gazing into the fire as he searched for the right words. "Tactically, it is a sound move, especially if we come to open war with Daggerfall which is something that seems more imminent by the day."

"And politically?" Vienne retorted.

Feralis shook his head with a frown. "The chances of Wayrest being caught in our move are high and the consequences are bad if we do. Daggerfall might see it as an expansionist move and could feel threatened, thus making a bold move against us which could naturally end up in open blows."

"Do you fear war with Daggerfall?"

"I fear war with any state!" he exclaimed. "Even with someone as lowly as Wind Keep I would despise a war with."

"How hypocritical of a General to say." She said sarcastically with a small grin. She realized who she was smiling at a second later, and the smile vanished to be replaced with her regular frown.

"You know as well as I do that I keep this job for the protection of Wayrest. Not the expansion." His voice was more serious that it had been throughout the conversation at this point.

Vienne bowed her head in apology. "But of course General."

There was a long pause in where only the crackle of the fire could be heard and the mute mutterings of the guards outside the doors could be heard. Feralis watched the bright fire while Vienne stared at a map which was lying next to her on the table. Her eyes were focused on the very bottom of the map on a certain city to the south.

"Where have you been going in Sentinel?" she asked, breaking the silence and looking up at her father.

He turned his head up from the fire slowly as his eyes met hers and a small smile formed on his face. "Nothing escapes you my dear."

"No it doesn't. I know you have not been meeting with King Soscean. So who?" she asked with slight urgency.

"That information," he said as he stood from his seat, "is between your mother and I." He walked towards the door and placed a worn hand on the gilded knob but turned his head to regard his daughter who remained sitting in the chair with a vexed look on her face.

"Good night." He said softly with a smile and he turned the knob and exited, leaving Vienne alone in the darkening room with her thoughts racing a million miles an hour.

Hmm.

Three well-written chapters and no comments thus far?

I'm unfamiliar with the Immortalized Timeline, but no matter. This story so far stands well on its own.

I'm intrigued by the characters, and the dialogue just makes me even more enthralled.

I will simply sit quietly here and wait for more.

More, please. :icecream:

Well, I didn't read the whole thing at a full attention, but I more than skimmed it. It's good! You just need to bring some interest (and wait for more time to post the next chapter[s]).

How I miss the old Immortal Blood Timeline. That's when I first started out as a RP. 'Ole Rurik, Ongar, Elysana, your old Edwin... That was a great RP at one time. Anyway Blade, keep up that good work of yours.

This is an AWESOME Write! I don't know how you aren't getting commented - December was an extremely busy month for me, which may explain why I missed this - please keep writing, MORE, MORE !!!!!!! You've got my attention, if somehow I miss seeing your post, please PM me and I will be right over to read it! Awesome writing !!

Please note that I have added dates to the beginning of each chapter and will continue to do so.

Chapter 4: Blowing on the Embers of War

4E4 Sun’s Dawn 10th, Bhoriane


The early morning sun had just broken the low tree line and was already causing soldiers to mumble as they shielded their weary eyes from the bright light. The men had been on watch from the city walls all night and as their shift drew to a close they began to lean on the walls lazily, waiting fervently for the sound of the wonderful relief bell.

A man stood at the furthest part of the western wall and he waited for the bell no less eagerly than any other man on the stockade, as his eyes blinked slowly from exhaustion. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family, hopefully in time for breakfast which would be cooked by his beautiful wife and two magnificent daughters. Perhaps he would play with his young son for a bit before he had some much needed sleep.

The wonderful thoughts danced through his weary mind as his eyes slid out of focus from the field beyond the walls. He thought of his wife and her soft, gentle laugh which drowned out the rising shouts that were erupting around him, which his tired brain could not comprehend.

Why ruin such a pleasant moment? he thought bewilderedly.

He found his answer a second later as an arrow pierced his exposed chest, driving through the simple padded armor with ease to reach at his lungs. The images of his home dissolved quickly as the ground rushed up to meet his head and he landed on the wooden wall with a loud thud. He could hear the shouts clearly now as well as his own raspy breathing as blood pooled around his head and torso, and spilled from his mouth, choking him. The shouts began to fade again, and a smile found its way onto his face as he drifted into unconsciousness with images of his family in his mind, not comprehending that he would never see them again.

On other parts of the wall, things did not end so peacefully for the defenders as many caught arrows in the necks and exposed heads. Their fellows could do nothing as they were forced to remain under cover from the hail of arrows, looking back to the city frantically to see if help was coming.

A few dozen men rushed from the stone keep that towered over the rest of the town, all of them armed with simple spears and javelins or bows. They sprinted through the streets to the besieged walls, forcing the many citizens to jump out of the way for fear of being trampled.

On the walls, the men were beginning to poke their frightened heads over the ramparts as the arrows ceased their fire. Next to the main gate, a strong Nordic man stood straight up and looked out at the figures who had so suddenly came upon them.

“What do ya see Jergnar?” called a man from bellow the walls.

“Nothin’ good, ole friend!” he called back in a deep voice. “I can’t make out what flags they be!”

Inspired by the fact the Nord wasn’t a living pincushion; more men began standing back on their feet and many went to help their fallen comrades though for most it was too late and medical aid became prayers for the fallen.

“Make way for the Captain!”

The call was echoed all the way up the streets from the city barracks, as two dozen men on horseback rode up to the main gate, followed shortly by nearly sixty men on foot that began assisting the wounded and clearing off the dead for proper burial.

A prominent, and out-of-place looking man dismounted his horse and jogged up the stairs to stand next to the Nord, Jergnar.

“Captain Broccas.” he saluted, as did the other men on the wall.

“At ease brother.” The captain instructed in a calm, almost soothing voice. His dark, Redguard skin and shining armor was what put him out of place amongst the ragged looking soldiers who were primarily Bretic. He looked out to survey the field just as a dozen men riding horses were coming towards the very gate he was over. His eyes looked over the flags that were carried behind the official looking men and he almost fell over in despair.

“Daggerfall.” he whispered, drawing looks of concern from the men nearby. He ran up a flight of three stairs to stand directly over the gate and looked down at the men gathered before him. Around the Captain, dozens of angry men held their throwing weapons tightly, anxious to strike down the men who were responsible for killing their friends.

“Loyalists of Bhoriane.” came a call from a man in white robes from below, his voice carrying over the distant shouts of men on other parts of the wall. “I have an order from King Leon Ancois Daggerfallian the Third to open your gates to his soldiers and to lower your own flags.”

His words were followed by a wave of hisses and curses thrown his way, though no weapons flew out towards him.

The man looked unbothered by it all and continued calmly as though he were making small talk with a close friend. “If you choose to deny the entry of the officials of Daggerfall, than we will have no choice but to besiege you until such time as you change your mind. If surrender is what you choose, send out your leader on foot, and all who wish to leave the city will be granted safe passage with their supplies past our forces after being disarmed.”

Captain Broccas couldn’t believe what was happening but he knew what he was supposed to do in such a situation. He spoke loudly and clearly for both the emissary but more importantly for the dozens of men who were listening.

“I have been appointed with the task of defending the walls of Bhoriane and all who dwell within! Whether they be rebel scum or treacherous Daggerfallian army.” He looked at the man with his hard eyes as he spoke his final words. “You may not enter our fair city now, nor shall you ever good sir. Good day to you!”

He turned and walked down from the wall, as his men cheered loudly and spit curses at the emissary who shook his head and led his entourage back to the partly concealed force.

Broccas leapt down the final five stairs and landed on the ground with a dull thud as he walked to his gathered officers who sat on their mounts silently.

“Prepare the defences. Each of you take your previously assigned sector of the wall. Lengrad,” he said, addressing a short, fierce looking Breton, “take your cavalry and scout the area. Return in three hours.”

Lengrad nodded grimly and took off at full speed down the street to the barracks.

“Get all of the people who live in the buildings next to the walls back to safety and begin a house-to-house preparation of any man or woman who can fight.” The men all nodded and took off to their assigned duty while the gathered soldiers gave another hearty cheer and took their positions on the wall or ran off to gather extra spears and arrows.

*****

The group of horses rode through the near perfect lines of soldiers, not slowing down until they reached the only tent in the area, which was nothing more than a low, tan canvas with no walls. Inside there was an old wooden table, stolen from one of the farmhouses in the surrounding lands. Around the looted table sat a half dozen well-groomed men in fine plate armor as they sipped wine casually despite the rather dire situation.

They looked up as the man in white robes dismounted from his horse and walked into the small enclosure, looking tired and annoyed.

“Well?” asked one armoured man who had a long, black goatee and sharp grey eyes.

“They refuse to surrender at this time.” said the messenger.

A taller man who had bright red hair sighed loudly and said, “Naturally. Stubborn fools.”

“Bhoriane is a land of opportunity you know.” said another man, who’s armor wasn’t made of such fine material and didn’t have the same shine. “Few would give it up so easily.”

“Oh, of course, I forgot about our guest from the city.” remarked the red haired man with a mock head bow.

“Yes, our esteemed friend here decided it was a land worth dividing.” quipped the goateed man.

The out-of-place man did not seem bothered by the remarks. On the contrary, he cracked a small smile as he thought of the civil war he had started. “The state was being held back by a weak government and foolish leaders. A large part of the population believed it was time to remove said government.”

“Yet here you are outside the city walls...” said another man, who was completely bald and very tan. His voice dripped with sarcasm as he spoke, but once again, the man he addressed took the criticism with a smile and a shrug.

“A coup is not an easy thing to pull off. Men arriving three minutes late was what made the difference between me in that castle and us sitting out here.”

There was a collective snicker around the table from the other five men, all who wore the symbol of Daggerfall on the right briast of their armor.

The white robed messenger cleared his throat to remind the pvssyring men that he was still present. The men around the table looked up at him.

“You have nothing else to do for now, Harrold.” said the bald man. The messenger, Harrold, nodded and left immediately, mounting his horse and taking off for the small farmhouse he had secured for himself.

“We will move on with the arranged plan then?” asked the bald man, looking around the table.

“I don’t see why not. Not like they have help coming to them. They’re trapped.” said another man, this one with long, strawberry blond hair and a narrow, boyish face.

There was a collective murmur of agreement around the table as the rebel leader stood from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me then, I will go get my men prepared for the first assault.” With that, he left the shelter of the tent, whistling a cheerful tune all the way.

Back in the tent, the remaining five Daggerfallian’s got up one by one, leaving the looted table and the scattered parchments alone in the grey morning.

*****

The city was in chaos as soldiers ran up and down the streets, herding people out of their houses and away from the walls while other groups of soldiers were forcing men, women and children who were deemed ‘able’ to the barracks to have them armed. In the small stone castle, a small group of men stood at the doorway talking frantically. One was dressed in regal looking clothes and wore a thin silver crown with a single sapphire set in the middle. He was the one who spoke.

“How many men do we have Captain?” His voice was filled with worry and panic, something the other men didn’t miss.

“Six hundred registered men, and we estimate another eight hundred can be gathered from the citizens. Many are already armed and being instructed of their duties.”

The Captain was dressed in his full chain armor, which was strong but light; a gift from the King of Sentinel. The fine silver sabre at his side gleamed in the torch light and his eyes looked around the circle of men.

“I have a score of cavalry outside the gates right now, scouting the area but they cannot get far. The Daggerfall army tightened the circle too quickly.” remarked Lengrad, the cavalry commander.

“What about the sea?” asked the king of Bhoriane.

“Our port is untouched but they have set a blockade of heavy ships about two miles out and their numbers are far superior to ours.... Both at sea and on land.” finished Lengrad darkly.

“But we shouldn’t lose heart!” exclaimed Broccas with a smile. “Our walls are still intact, and thankfully we have enough stores to feed the town for three months. By then, help should arrive.”

The other men looked at each other sceptically but remained quiet. They trusted Broccas deeply, for he used to fight for Sentinel and her armies and had won many victories.

As they stood in silence, a lightly armored man rushed into the hall; his face red and his breathing heavy. “My lords, the Daggerfallian’s are moving to the walls and the arrows are flying thick from their ranks again!’ He paused to take a few heavy breaths before continuing. “And the rebels have been spotted at the west gate, fighting alongside the enemy!”

“Traitorous dogs! I’ll have their heads on pikes for this!” exclaimed the King.

Broccas nodded quickly to the King and rushed from the Castle, his officers following closely while the King rushed back to his room and onto his balcony to watch the battle from safety.

On the walls, men were ducking for cover again as Daggerfall’s skilled longbow men unleashed steady volleys of arrows onto the fortifications. Broccas made his way to the north gate, running to the door and looking through small windows cut into the portals to see the field in front of him. Lightly armed men were running towards the wall, carrying dozens of wooden ladders while heavier spearmen advanced slowly forward in the back ranks.

“Captain, the west gate is under attack already by the rebel forces!”

Broccas turned to see a man on the back of a small horse, his face full of fear as he moved close to the wall to shield himself from the arrows that were falling thick.

“Have they reached the walls yet?”

“No but our men cannot throw their missiles because of the arrows from their damn bows!”

Broccas nodded grimly and looked back out of the small windows on the gates, seeing the ladder-carrying men gaining ground without resistance from the walls.

“There is nothing we can do without sufficient cavalry. Tell Illdrin to fight hard on the walls, and to not let them sweep us off the ramparts there. The rebels are just a decoy in this fight. Go!” he barked.

“Captain!” came another call, this time from his right. He turned to see nearly forty men standing in full battle gear, ready to fight. “The east wall is quiet and Lieutenant gro-Jernak thought you might need some help.”

Broccas smiled widely. “Indeed!” He looked out of the windows again, and as soon as he did calls began coming down from above.

“Ladders at the walls!”

He noticed the arrows had stopped, and he knew now was the time of opportunity. “Rise men! Unleash your revenge on their heads from above!” His voice was strong and clear, and the frightened men seemed to gain courage from it as they jumped up from cover and looked down at the lightly armored infantry massed at the bottom of the walls.

Spears, rocks and arrows flew down at the vulnerable men, halting them from raising the ladders to the tops of the stockade. The men at the bottom of the wall screamed in agony and dropped like pigs in a slaughter as blood flowed freely and gathered in pools at the base of the wooden walls. They tried to answer back with throwing missiles of their own, but their lower elevation and the protection of the paraqets rendered many of them ineffective as the defenders on the walls responded again with another wave of missiles, many of them calling out a name of a fallen friend as they fired.

Broccas nodded grimly and began ordering his men onto the walls as he himself ran to stand over the gate, leaving a small but heavily armored group of pikes at the gate. The missiles were effective, but soon the defenders ran out and the ladders inevitably came up to the tops of the walls.

The defenders frantically tried to push them over, but they were met with more thrown weapons from below and were forced to pull their heads back to safety. The attackers drew their melee weapons and began the dangerous climb up the walls, while their comrades covered them from the ground.

Broccas watched calmly, and gave a loud call, “Draw weapons! Do not show them mercy! Do not let them get more than a head above those paraqets!”

A hearty cheer went up from the walls as men went about their bloody work without hesitation. When a head popped up, a sword went down, splattering those on the wall and those below with blood. Broccas saw a young boy only twenty feet from himself, and the Captain could see the horror in his eyes as he brought his heavy mace down on yet another man’s head and even in the tumult of the battle, he could hear the crack of a skull.

He shook his head in pity and drew his sword while running to the lad’s position. He grabbed him on the shoulder gently and smiled as the boy jumped and turned to face the Redguard warrior. Broccas saw that tears were flowing down the boys face, and it broke his heart that such a young child was in battle.

“Off the wall lad, and get yourself back to the barracks for now.” he said softly with a smile. The boy didn’t have to be told twice as he threw his mace down and tore off down the stairs to the ground, never looking back as he ran, not towards the barracks but the opposite direction to his house.

Broccas turned back to the ladder just in time to see that his delay had allowed a man to get a leg over the edge of the wall. The Captain snarled a very uncharacteristic snarl and swung the hard pommel of his blade down, causing the man to go limp as he remained blocking the top of the ladder with a noticeable dent in his helmet.

Seeing their Captain in the fray gave the defenders even more heart as they cheered loudly and swung more ferociously, if it was possible. Broccas took the respite to bring another man to take his spot as he surveyed the field. The heavier infantry were remaining on the field but out of range of any missiles. The Ra’Gada guessed they were simply a decoy or there in case the gates were opened. Instead, he turned his eyes further out to try and see the enemy camp.

“Captain, the west wall is faltering!”

Broccas spun and looked down to where a battered looking man stood, his face full of fear and covered in blood.

“They managed to get a group of men onto the walls and we cannot drive them off again!”

The Captain swore under his breath and looked down at the field below him, where hundreds of dead men lay in pools of darkening blood. The west wasn’t the decoy. The north gate was. He couldn’t believe Daggerfall would be so careless with their men in a conflict that wasn’t truly theirs.

“Captain, we must hurry to help the west wall or they will be overrun!” the man shouted, bringing Broccas out of his deep thoughts.

“Indeed.”

He turned and looked at his men, and down at the base of the wall where the reserve men waited, out of the way, but nearby. He ran down the steps, blade in hand, stopping only to yell back orders at a man on top of the wall.

“Hold the gates until I get back! Do not sally out! Send for me if you need assistance!”

The soldier saluted once, and turned back to the fighting. Broccas pointed at the men in reserve and beckoned them to follow his lead as he took off for the western wall, and the men gave another cheer and followed their Captain, wherever he chose to lead them this day, for their homes were in danger and as each man thought of their families huddled in their houses, a determined look came to his face and they gripped their weapons a little harder, ready to die for their homeland and their families.

Powerful write - Awesome! I thought it was poignient how the man thought of his family just before getting hit, as if somewhere in his subconscious he knew what the shouting meant, but couldn't handle facing that reality - very powerful writing! I will now gobble like a turkey, so may come back and comment when I am not so overwhelmed by the read! Awesome!


PS: Comments are way down right now due to the new format, so hang in there PLEASE !! And: MORE, MORE !!

This was really good writing. Great set up for the battle scene that followed.

Keep it up - I want to see more of this.

Yes I am continuing to this story for anybody who is actually reading it (as few as that seems to be). I have also added the year and era to the dates at the beginning of each chapter.

Chapter 5: Old Foes

4E4 Sun’s Dawn 12th, Bhoriane
Morning

The wind whipped across Admiral Smithfield’s face as he stood at the prow his fleet’s flagship, observing the situation in front of them. They had come around the small island of Gorgreva, off the coast of Bhoriane, an island that wasn’t even on most maps and their lookouts had reported ships not far off. The Admiral ordered his fleet to close the distance and as they drew closer, the sounds of battle reached their ears over the roaring winds and crashing waves.

It had been shock enough to the experienced Admiral to see that the ships of Bhoriane had come out this far to do battle, but as he finally caught sight of the opposing flags of the ships closer to his own fleet, he could’ve jumped for joy as he recognized the colors of Daggerfall flying from the ship.

He immediately ordered his ships into formation, as the skilled rowers of Wayrest swept through the water with ease. In the opposite direction, he could only just make out the form of the swift messenger ship, The Running Lady heading back towards Wayrest to deliver the news that his fleet had come under unprovoked attack by Daggerfallian ships that were also attacking the people of Bhoriane who Wayrest had initially come to help.

Only three hundred yards away, he watched the battle continue, as ramming techniques began to fall away to close-combat and boarding. Daggerfall was clearly winning, and Gregory watched as two ships pulled up tight to a lone ship of Bhoriane and board it simultaneously.

To the combatants, the menacing ships three hundred yards away could not be deciphered as friend or foe, but Daggerfall thought it was best to be safe, and a score of unengaged ships broke off to make contact with the new arrivals.

The flags of Wayrest remained down, as per his Queen’s instructions but there was little mistaking the unique prows of the Royal Navy, and he figured the men of Daggerfall coming towards him already knew who the newcomers were.

“Admiral, the ballista’s await your command.”

Gregory spun and nodded at the marine who addressed him, and looked back at the large ballista on the raised deck on the rear of the ship. This was typical of the other nineteen ships in his small fleet, as was the mast-less ships and three rows of oars sticking out from each side; giving it the appearance of a strange insect. The ships did have masts, but they were not used in battle so that the heavy ballista’s could fire without running the risk of hitting their own ships, plus rowing against the wind was no easy task.

“On my flag!” he yelled, as another marine next to him raised a red flag. The motion was imitated down the line of ships that were separated by fifty yards of space. On the deck of each ship stood a crew of twenty lightly armored marines, armed with short blades and bows while grappling hooks lay at their feet.

“Trajectory is fixed?” he asked loudly.

“Yessir!” came the reply from the six men who operated each ships ballista.

“Move forward at cruising speed!”

“Cruising speed!”

The order was relayed from the Admiral’s spot at the prow, down into the first level of rowers and subsequently to the level below. The ships lurched slightly as they move steadily towards the line of approaching ships, but not too fast so as to upset the ballista’s aim.

“Fire!”

The marine to his side dropped the red flag, and a second later a steel tipped spear was flying through the air. Flags dropped down the line of ships and nineteen more bolts flew out towards the enemy ships. The missile from the Admiral’s ship slammed into the hull of the lead ship on the other side, sticking in firmly, but not doing any serious damage to the thick hull. On Wayrest left wing, their ballista crews had more success as their bolts smashed into the enemies’ decks, one of them impaling a ship’s Captain and others piercing marines.

The distance between the ships quickly closed to a hundred yards, as the ballista crews loaded a second missile.

“Ramming speed!” called Admiral Smithfield calmly. The order was relayed again, and the ships rowers accelerated the fleet at an impressive speed, the trained and professional rowers of Wayrest clearly outmatching Daggerfall’s speed.

“Brace for impact!” came the call from both lines of ships as the fleets were only seventy yards apart. Marines gripped the rail tightly and even the seemingly unmoveable Gregory ran back from the prow to grip at the rails.

Generally, the two forces would hit each other all down the line; the ships with sturdier hulls and better rower giving out more punishment and taking less. There was little else to do on the sea at this point of the battle. Admiral Smithfield, however, was always looking to throw his opponent off guard and as the last four ships on both of his flanks had neared the enemy, they banked quickly and suddenly; a manoeuvre only possible with the crack rowing crews of Wayrest’s professional navy. They aimed for the space in between the enemies’ ships, surprising their foes and the marines stood quickly. Each of them fired their short bows, raking the deck with arrows and killing the prone, kneeling Daggerfallian marines. The ballista crews fired their missiles as well, and at such close range, the deadly spears pierced through the holes where oars stuck out and the screams of dying rowers could be heard to the satisfaction of the skilled men working their deadly artillery pieces.

In the middle, his remaining twelve ships, all with their signature thick hulls and impressive rams hit the enemy line with incredible force. The ear-splitting sound of wood hitting wood deafened all men around it, and the screams of panic from below floated up onto the decks as hulls sprang leaks and sea water rushed in. The crews on both sides quickly began reversing, trying to pull their ships away from the enemy to avoid the hail of missiles and any boarding action that might ensue. Arrows flew thick in this phase between both ships, and the Wayrestian ballista’s reigned havoc on the Daggerfallian ships again at close range, felling another ship’s Captain.

Admiral Smithfield would have loved to begin boarding actions against the reduced numbers of enemy marines, but the Bhoriane ships could break at any moment, and he had to reach them to save the day.

“Prepare to ram again!” he cried among the shouting and twanging of bowstrings. His marines once again proved their effectiveness with their bows while shooting from behind the almost wall-like rails of the superior Wayrestian fleet.

The center of his line backed up swiftly, continuing to pepper the enemy with arrows and missiles. On his flanks, the ships that passed through the enemy line made yet another clever manoeuvre as they swung to the inside, completely ignoring the enemies flank-ships and sailed full speed to the exposed backs of the enemy ships. Gregory grinned widely, but turned away before he could see the result to continue with his plan, one that had remained pleasantly unaltered since the beginning.

“Second phase.” He told his flag-bearer silently. A green flag whipped up this time, and was answered by four ships on his right, and four on his left of the twelve in the middle of his formation. The Captains of those ships relayed the orders, and those ships made speed towards the ignored enemies’ flank ships that had slowed considerably from the hail of missiles from the actions of Smithfield’s plan. Gregory himself remained in place with three remaining ships in the middle; ready to rush to where ever help was required.

The Daggerfallian ships in its center realized its doom too late, and the circling Wayrestian ships hit their considerably less armored rears. Gregory began to call the order to deliver the final strike with a second charge with his remaining three ships, but he found it unnecessary as the Daggerfallian’s had seen enough of the superior Wayrestian navy and were already fleeing as quick as they could. The ships on their flanks made a clean getaway, scattering like leaves in the wind to desperately get away from the certain death that awaited them back against the seemingly invincible opposing navy. The ships in the center met a worse fate however, as one was flat out sunk, and one was in the process of sinking as water poured into the hull. Two ships were being prepared to be boarded, as grappling hooks pulled the ships close and the skilled Wayrestian marines hopped the rails, drawing their blades and fighting the demoralized men on the opposite ships.

There was little fighting to be done as the men of Daggerfall threw down their weapons and pleaded for life.

“Return to your ships! We must assist those from Bhoriane!” called the Admiral, having a series of flags raised to call for a regroup. He left one boat in charge of the four ships they had captured as well as to help the drowning men of the sinking vessel.

With his line somewhat reformed, he began sailing towards the rest of the battle in the distance. It was all for naught, for as he drew closer, the men of Daggerfall had seen what the Wayrestian’s had done to their comrades and they reversed out of battle and fled. Three were caught up as their boarding crews couldn’t detach themselves from the Bhoriane ships, and instead they threw down their arms and surrendered to the relieved men of Bhoriane. Four of Gregory’s ships continued the chase of the fleeing vessels of Daggerfall while he sent three more ships back to the site of his battle to assist with the rounding up of prisoners.

His own ship, followed by the other twelve (one had been disabled and left floating in the water with a whole side of oars snapped in half by a scrapping blow) vessels in his fleet. He turned to the Captain of his ship with a look of satisfaction.

“Damage?” he asked in a business-like tone.

“Talos’ Sister is dead in the water, but all she needs are replacement oars. We can tow her into port. In total, we only lost six marines and another thirteen are injured but the wounds are superficial with proper treatment.”

“Prisoners?”

“Roughly seven ships worth of marines and rowers. Six Captains as well and twelve Corporals were also caught, although none carry any higher rank. Six ships are captured as well.”

“Good, good. Have the Silver Cutlass set up a trophy of victory for Wayrest on this spot.”

The Captain saluted and began talking with the ship next to the Admiral’s flagship. Meanwhile, a ship from Bhoriane had pulled up beside the Admiral; a prominent looking Redguard with a gleaming cutlass standing at the rails with a warm smile on his face.

“Hail, men of Wayrest!” he called; his smile widening. “Your timing is impeccable, even though I did not expect your assistance.”

“Time for explanations later, Sir....” he said, fishing for a name.

“Ah, my manners are often forgotten in the adrenaline rush of battle.” the Redguard exclaimed. “The name’s Broccas Harrod of Sentinel and now a resident of Bhoriane.” he said with a bow.

“Admiral Gregory Smithfield of Wayrests Royal Navy.” replied the Admiral with a return bow and a small smile. He paused for a moment, looking around at the scene as though waiting for an explanation about why ships from Daggerfall were in Bhoriane’s waters.

Seeing nothing forthcoming from the man, he cleared his throat. “Why exactly were you fighting ships of Daggerfall in your home waters?”

Broccas smiled grimly and shook his head. “I guess the news hasn’t gone far than.” He sighed and went on. “Two days ago, at dawn, we were attacked without warning in our city. A diplomat from Daggerfall demanded the surrender of the city to his forces. Naturally we resisted as a group of those loyal to the old oligarchy. We soon learned that Daggerfall had allied themselves with the group of rebels that had set the coup in motion.”

Gregory motioned to continue his story, with a small look of confusion on his face.

“When King Henry was murdered along with almost all of the Council, many of the guards remained loyal to the other king, Joseph, and drove the rebels away, gaining more and more support from the townspeople to resist the traitors. The men responsible were forced to flee as they did not receive the support they believed they would be getting.”

He took a breath before continuing. “Apparently, a day after they left the city with citizens loyal to them, there was infighting between the leading men of the revolution, and the group split in two. Now, one of them has clearly come out on top and rallied the remaining people who support the revolution and the new democracy.”

Admiral Smithfield nodded solemnly. “Is the city still surrounded?”

“On land it is. They attacked our walls not longer after we discovered we were surrounded. They attempted to storm our walls and the fighting lasted till the sun set and we had finally managed to push them out of the streets before they broke.”

He trailed off, his thoughts on the many who had fallen that day. “They did not attack us the next day, and so we began to consider a naval attack to free our port and allow us to send for help.”

“Well I’m glad we could help. We have sent one of our swift ships back to Wayrest already to inform my Queen that Daggerfall has engaged with us.”

Broccas nodded with a smile and clapped the man on the shoulder gratefully. “I have a request to make to you, and to Wayrest.”

Gregory nodded, signalling that the man should continue though his mind wasn’t entirely fixed on the man.

“Well, the city holds many women, children and elderly as well as countless numbers of the sick and the wounded. We have few provisions as it is and medical supplies are few and far between.”

The Admiral knew what was going to be asked of him before the Redguard to request it, but he let the man ask anyways.

“Would Wayrest be willing to take the women and children to refuge in their own lands? Bhoriane would be ever grateful, though we are already in your debt for your assistance today! Will you do this?” The desperation in the man’s voice was clear and Gregory couldn’t help but nodding before he could even formulate a response on his tongue.

“Of course Wayrest would open her arms to any who call themselves friends.” he declared with a smile. “Furthermore, I have been granted diplomatic powers by my Queen and perhaps further agreements of friendship could be made...”

The Ra’Gada nodded with a smile, though inside he was disappointed. He just wanted Bhoriane to be a recognized, independent nation amongst the super-powers of the Iliac. Now however, it seemed like Bhoriane was soon to be obligated to accept an alliance with Wayrest. He knew it would better the situation of the families in the besieged city though and he doubted that King Joseph would refuse the help of Wayrest.

“Come, follow my own ships back into the harbour where we can go and meet my liege together.”

Gregory nodded and had a relay of signals go through the line of ships as they got into order and followed the small, ragtag Bhoriane fleet back towards the sheltered harbour, leaving the Silver Cutlass and the Gilded Slaughterfish to set up the trophy of victory and patrol the surrounding waters.

*****

The Admiral strode up the steps of the small keep, his scarlet clothes and tri-point hat giving him a regal look as his steel sabre bounced off of his right leg with each step. Two ragged looking guards stood at the broken doors to the throne room and they let the procession through without a second glance. Admiral Smithfield licked his lips in anticipation of the coming meeting. He was about to bring the conflict between Daggerfall and Wayrest to a new level; one that his fellows of the “war” party had been attempting to do for months.

He followed closely behind Broccas, who was wearing simple but fine clothes and as always, had his silver sabre strapped to his hip, much like Gregory. Much like Gregory, he also carried himself with confidence and strength; both of character and muscle. However, that was where the similarities ended. Broccas was silently lamenting the meeting and unlike the Admiral of Wayrest, he wished for the fighting to cease. Not for it to intensify.

In front of the two men sat the remaining King of the two king oligarchy, who was flanked by three older men who were part of the now shattered Council that made up the oligarchy of the city. King Joseph himself was a young man, no older than forty which was fairly young for a King. His bald head gleamed in the torchlight and was augmented by the silver crown he wore, the sapphire of which matched his eyes. His eyebrows were non-existent but his eyes were large and protuberant as if he was constantly surprised by startling information. Though difficult to discern from his sitting position, he was extremely short and rather plump with fat cheeks that were devoid of any sort of hair.

It was the King who spoke first, his crooked white teeth shining out from beneath his thin lips. “Welcome, esteemed guest from Wayrest, to my court!”

Gregory bowed respectfully to the man, responding in a business like tone. “Wish that I had come here on more peaceful times, but unfortunately that is not the case.”

The King’s face fell slightly as he knew the man was set on getting this over and done with. Gregory spoke again, before the King could.

“I’m sure you’ve been informed that my Queen has given me certain diplomatic powers, including the ability to form official alliances.” The King nodded but the Admiral continued before a response could be formed.

“Perhaps privacy would be more comforting?”

The King nodded and waved his hand hesitantly, sending the guards away. Gregory did the same for his small entourage of men and as the doors banged shut, he got straight into business, looking at the King and the three Council members as he spoke, while Broccas remained off to the side quietly.

“To put it bluntly, my lord, your kingdom is in a predicament. Daggerfall is a mighty nation and against a shattered kingdom such as your own, it will not be kept out of your walls for long.”

He paused, sitting in a chair that had been brought to him when he had walked in. “I won’t lie to you, the reason I ran across your men battling on the sea was because I was coming to seal an alliance with Bhoriane for Wayrest. Now, the terms I put before you are simple and fair I think.”

He cleared his throat and pulled out a piece of parchment, which he had apparently written the terms on.

“One: ‘A military alliance shall hereby be in effect between Bhoriane and Wayrest for the time period of one year, ending the exact hour it was signed one year before.’ Two: ‘Bhoriane may not enter into any other alliances without the consent of Wayrest and may not enter into peace negotiations without a proper Wayrestian official present.’”

There was some noticeable bristling from the old men behind the King, but nobody spoke. Joseph remained silent and kept a passive look on his face. The Admiral looked up, and seeing no argument forthcoming, he looked back down to the parchment.

“Third: ‘Supplies will be sent from Wayrest to Bhoriane, which will include building supplies, food stuffs, water and war supplies, and trade will begin again between Wayrest, her allies, and Bhoriane and Wayrest shall patrol the routes with her navy.’ Fourth: ‘Wayrest’s navy shall be allowed to dock in your port, and supplies will be sold at fair prices to her captain’s and sailor’s will be given fair prices to taverns, inns and beds in exchange for us protecting your sea.’ And lastly, ‘Bhoriane shall offer assistance to Wayrest with her military whenever they are called upon, and this term shall remain for as long as and whenever Wayrest is at war and Wayrest shall protect Bhoriane and its lands from Daggerfall and its allies for as long as Bhoriane is threatened by either of the two.’”

He stepped forward and handed the list to the King and stepped back again. King Joseph read the scroll top to bottom three times; his eyes moving back and forth to check for any tricks or hidden clauses. Gregory had made no tricks however because he didn’t need to. He knew that Bhoriane was sorely in need of help of all sorts of kinds. They faced a powerful enemy in Daggerfall and their lands were razed and taken over by the occupiers and food was getting shorter, as was fresh water and he knew it was only a matter of time until they were overrun in their homes.

He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to fight off a coming headache in vain. “Do you have a quill?”

He looked up to see the Admiral had stepped close again and was holding out a beautiful flowing, golden feather quill and a slight look of satisfaction on his face. The King took it, and placed it into a jar of ink that a servant had placed next to him.

He looked up at the Wayrestian man, with the quill hovering over the inkwell. “Relief forces will be sent right away?”

“There will need to be some preparation first. Only one of our eight legions is standing at the moment and we will not leave Wayrest undefended. At the moment the best we can do within a week is to send a few battalions of levies that are prepared already.”

For a moment, a shadow of doubt crossed the King’s face but it passed in an instant and he shook some ink off the quill and signed his name on the treaty. Gregory could barely contain his smile as he took the quill from his counterparts hand and signed his own name, thus sealing an alliance between the two nations and what Gregory hoped was the beginning of the war.

You inglorious bastard! Keep it up!

Fantastic wordplay. I am completely intrigued.

Chapter 6: Decision’s

4E4 Sun’s Dawn 13th, Wayrest
Afternoon


The hall full of people watched in silence as the dark-skinned Redguard walked out of the large doors with a disgusted look on his face. As soon as the doors shut behind him, the hall broke into urgent conversations around the room with many voices of anger directed at a large group of similarly dressed men who sat in a large block.

“You fools! Why must you alienate every potential friend we have?”

“Lainlyn is a weak city.” one of the targeted men responded quickly. “They are hardly worth the demands they wanted fulfilled. Demands which we are unable to meet at this time.”

“Our list of friends is short enough without you offending every diplomat that enters this hall!” shouted the man in retort. “Is war with every nation in the Bay your goal then?”

“How dare---,” started the red-faced man, but he stopped as the doors opened and a new man rushed into the hall.

“My lady!” he cried, coming up before Elysana and bowing low while ignoring the shouts of anger from the interruption.

“You are from the The Running Lady, are you not?” she asked, noting the burgundy cloak he wore.

“Yes my lady.” he bowed. “I bring news from Admiral Smithfield. He has come under sudden and unprovoked attack by a large Daggerfallian fleet on his way to Bhoriane. Daggerfall was doing battle with the ships of Bhoriane as well.”

The news brought about the customary outbreak of muttering and hushed conversations, but a look from Elysana had them silenced quickly.

“You are telling no lies before this council?” she asked sternly; the regular deadly look in her eyes.

The messenger shook his head. “No my lady, I tell you only what Admiral Smithfield told me to tell you.”

The mutters were renewed at that statement, with many sceptical faces shaking their heads and whispers about the reliability of the Admiral ran around the room.

“This is another attempt by the war party to get their wishes!” shouted one brave man; a noble who owned a large estate of farming near their eastern borders, and therefore had much to lose at war.

“Oh shut up you fool and say nothing unless you know what you are talking about!” snapped a tall, pale man. He instantly calmed his voice and turned to the Queen with a smile and a bow. “My lady, I believe it is time to send a response to Daggerfall.”

“You would have us go to war?” asked a woman sitting near the back.

The tall man chuckled and shook his balding head. “Not at all, not at all.” He turned back to Elysana and said with a new urgency in his voice, “Send a diplomat to Daggerfall. Tell them of this attack and remind them the consequences of future actions like this.”

There were many nodding heads at this suggestion, and for once the war party seemed to have outside supporters. There was some opposition of course, as a young Imperial man stood; his voice brimming with confidence as he addressed the tall man across from him.

“That will only escalate the situation even more! We no longer have the power to go around threatening who we wish. M’lady, I implore you; send the The Running Lady back to the Admiral with new messengers and get a full report on what has happened.”

This was received poorly throughout the hall as many of the older members shook their heads and told the lad to take a seat. He looked at the Queen with a pleading look before taking his seat without another word, knowing he would get shouted down if he spoke again.

Elysana sighed, wishing that these men didn’t have the power they did. She was technically the sole ruler of the land, able to make decisions for the entire nation on a whim and an order. However, during the Siege of Sentinel, she had not kept her eye the powerful nobles in the city and before she knew it, they had seized more power than she ever wanted to let them have. Now she felt as though she were powerless with these men threatening civil war if she became to bold on her own. She sighed again as she lamented her loss of true power over her fading nation.

“The The Running Lady will go back to Admiral Smithfield with a new messenger and a diplomat. From there, they will go by sea to Daggerfall and inform the King about his soldiers attack as well as a warning to avoid any such future attacks.”

She paused, looking around the room and with a firm jaw added, “On penalty of war.”

With that, she stood from her throne and walked swiftly through the door behind her, followed by her children minus Vienne who didn’t show up. She could hear muttering and a few arguments spring up in the hall but she had decided to take a stand and remind them all who the sole ruler of Wayrest was.


***********

The shadows were beginning to grow long in the dining hall as the Queen ate her meal in solitude. Only her multitude of thoughts kept her company but it was a most unwelcome company at the moment, as her head pounded. She looked down at the food set before her and she couldn’t remember the last time she had such a quality meal. She was always in meetings and dealing with foreign diplomats and by the time she was done, she never really felt like eating. She picked up the golden fork in front of her and moved in to take a bite of the fine looking lamb on the plate when the door banged open, startling her and making her drop her gilded utensil.

The intruder was one of the Castle guards, who bowed several times, obviously flustered at having to interrupt his Queen.

“Sorry for interrupting your meal, my lady.”

“Why have you come?” she asked with an edge of irritation in her voice.

The man did not miss her tone and he gulped in fear, stammering a few words out before finding his tongue. “An-an-Another messenger has arrived f-fr-from the Admiral bearing new and important news for y-y-you and the Council of Nobles.”

“They were summoned?” she asked, referring to the Nobles.

“Ye-yes m’lady.” he told her nervously.

She sighed, pushed her chair out and stood. She managed to force a smile onto her pretty face to calm the uneasy guard before sweeping past him at a brisk walk to the great hall. Her mind continued to race at what Gregory could have done that needed a second messenger so soon.

She opened the door that was behind her throne and walked into the hall, looking around to see that the Nobles had all assembled already. She also noted the group of men standing in the middle of the hall, one of which held a rolled piece of parchment. She took a seat, noticing that Vienne was present in her chair this time, though there was no time to ask her where she had been earlier.

“Well? Why have you been sent?” she asked impatiently, drawing offended looks from the nobles around her.

A portly Nordic man stepped forward, bowing low to reveal a bald patch on his head before addressing the crowd.

“I come from Admiral Smithfield bearing an update on the Bhoriane situation. Much has happened since the The Running Lady was dispatched.”

“Well begin where you feel is most important.” she implored.

“Well, the Admiral defeated the fleet of Daggerfall at the Battle of Gorgreva without any major casualties and was granted an audience with the remaining King of Bhoriane.”

“Remaining?” echoed an old man to the right; his position marked by the lavender judicator robes. “Perhaps you should begin by telling us exactly what has occurred at Bhoriane since we received news of the coup.”

His proposal was met with a chorus of agreement and approving nods. The Nordic man bowed and took a deep breath.

“As we know, the city was run by a pair of oligarchic Kings and a Council of upper class men. A few days ago, a group of men who supported a democratic rule in the city staged a coup d’état and managed to kill one of the Kings. They also killed most of the Council members but were eventually forced to flee the Castle and soon, the city once they realized that they didn’t have the support they once though they did. Apparently, there was mass exodus of men and women who supported the rebels and the town lost a sizeable portion of its population, though most were lower class citizens.”

He stopped to shift slightly and to lick his drying lips, but continued quickly before any interrupted him as he could tell many of the Nobles were itching with questions.

“There was soon infighting between prominent rebel leaders and as far as we know, one of them came out as the sole and absolute leader of the rebellion. The people of the city who remained loyal to the King were forced to remain within its walls and three days ago, on the tenth, they were besieged.”

This, predictably, caused an uproar of random questions and calls for action against the attackers of the neutral nation. Many were also beginning to wonder where Gregory Smithfield fit into all of this now.

“The attackers were the rebels but they came with a large force of outside allies.” He paused, aiming to add some dramatic flair as the audience listened anxiously. “Allies made up of the armed forces of Daggerfall.”

The nobles immediately began their hushed whispering, while others flat out called for war against them. Elysana had to raise her hand to quiet them, as she could tell there was more to the report, as the scroll the Nord man held had not been put away yet.

“Yesterday,” he began, a bead of sweat dripping down his nose, “Admiral Smithfield also made a pact with Bhoriane, forming a military alliance between the city of Wayrest and Bhoriane.”

For the first time anyone could remember, Elysana simply looked shocked at the news. It had so many different implications to it and the only thing she could figure out was that her headache had increased tenfold as the petty men argued around her.

She was not prepared for an alliance so soon and the simple fact that Bhoriane was at war with Daggerfall now meant that Wayrest was almost officially at war with the city as well. She was not ready to be at war. Not yet. There was too much to make sure of still; so many other tasks to complete to begin a campaign against such a powerful foe. She glanced sideways at her daughter, who sat silently but was equally as shocked at the news.

The Queen was so inwardly focused, that she barely realized the Nordic man was speaking again; his voice raised to overcome the hushed whispers.

“The Admiral has requested immediate back-up, followed by more long term assistance for our new allies. He has requested that three thousand of the freshly raised citizen levies that were meant for other tasks be sent to Bhoriane at once; leaving in at most, three days. He also wishes for the Third and Eighth Legion to be re-recruited, mobilized and sent to the area within a month, if possible. The last of his requests is that an additional thirty triremes be sent to his aid as well to assist in securing new trade routes between our cities.”

The requests were met with more silence than expected, as few wished to voice their opinion about sending military aid so soon and so suddenly. One man, a Breton who supported the war against Daggerfall stood, and looked around at the assembly of men and women gathered in the great hall.

“I know many of you right now are thinking along the same lines as myself. That military assistance now would be sending to clear a message to the rest of the Bay that Wayrest is ready for war and that it may force our enemies to begin mobilizing as well.” he said, his voice strong and growing stronger. He turned to the Queen as he spoke, “But we must take the initiative and the request is not so taxing to our resources as well as the request of manpower and it can easily be dispatched at the time requested.”

“That is not what the militia were raised for!” shouted a small man in the corner, his voice squeaking but strong. “They were raised primarily as builders for border forts to assist young General Greenwardaen and to act as border guards as well so to save the cost of recruiting the legions again.”

“Ask the General his opinion! Is that not why we have General’s?” came a shout form a man who had chosen to remain seating while speaking.

Feralis Yeomcroft had remained silent throughout the entire ordeal, quietly lamenting over the war that was approaching swiftly. His head shot up as he was addressed and so he stood with an effort that came with his advanced age; his sombre eyes looking around the room.

“My opinion, as most of you know, is that war was not the answer to our problems as of yet,” he said in a loud, but gentle voice, “And that beginning it now could potentially lead to complications in the future. In saying that however, with the circumstances that have been placed upon us and Wayrest’s best interests in mind, I say swift action is needed. Send the requested militia to their destination and begin the recruiting of two new legions as well.”

He could have laughed at how they still used the word legion to describe their armies. Twenty years ago, the armies of Wayrest had been mighty and could truly be called legions with the strength they could muster and the numbers they could field. That was before the Siege of Sentinel and before Wayrest had lost much of its kingdom, especially places like the Reach, where strong and hearty men could be recruited for their armies.

Nowadays, the standard legion could barely muster half of the five thousand men each legion used to be made of. Of the once nineteen legions that had been standing at the time of the war in Sentinel, only eight were listed as ‘eligible’ or ‘worth the resources’ for being made and they only supported one Legion in times of peace. Their professional armies were starting to give way to citizen levies and mercenaries from out of the country and though their technology was kept up to date, their military might had begun to slip away noticeably.

“Our treasuries are deep and well stocked, so I also support the thirty ships to be sent out as well.”

“What about General Greenwardaen up north? He will not be pleased that he won’t be receiving reinforcements.”

“We could give him a legion.” suggested someone at the back, though even his own voice dripped with scepticism.

“So now we go from one legion to four in a month?” asked one of the conservative oligarchs; a small group of men who pushed for Wayrest to be an oligarchy once Elysana passed away.

“If it meansth the thafety of Wayrest and her alliesth than I don’t thee the problem.” retorted another man who wore extremely flamboyant clothes and spoke with a heavy lisp.

“We can’t give an entire legion to the boy. He is too inexperienced and rash! He would lead them to disaster.”

“Do not doubt the boys’ skill! He has shown himself competent in the past.” reminded a member of the war party who stood out as the only Khajiit in the room.

“I say we give the boy a legion along with a thousand levies and send General Yeomcroft to Bhoriane to work in co-ordination with Admiral Smithfield in beginning the war with Daggerfall.”

There was a mutter of agreement at this, though of course many opposed giving Timothy the authority over an entire legion. Elysana saw the problem with this as well, but the idea had the full support of the war party now as they called for the passing of the motion and to fully begin the war.

She sighed and nodded reluctantly, not knowing what else she could do. “Recruitment will begin for the three new legions, which will be named the Third, Sixth and Eighth. The Third and Eighth will be led by General Yeomcroft. Said Legions will meet up with General Yeomcroft in Bhoriane as he will lead the three thousand levies to Bhoriane in two days. The Sixth will go north with an additional one thousand citizen soldiers to be led by General Greenwardaen.”

She looked around, with a look of anger, trepidation and sorrow. “Ladies and gentlemen, as of this hour, we should consider ourselves at war. Good evening.”

With that she swept from the chamber, and the Nobles did like-wise as they talked and argued about the current situation. Feralis remained seated for a while after, as he usually did and lost himself in his thoughts.

He had known for a while now that something like this would happen. It was inevitable with so many men in the city desiring war and now they had gotten what they so deeply desired. He did not fear Daggerfall on the battlefield. He was no novice to the theatre of war and had led the armies of Wayrest during the war in Hammerfell.

“Excuse me General, but the Queen has sent me to get you to work on the recruitment right away.”

Feralis looked up slowly to see the nervous face of a young servant boy. He avoided eye contact with the General and instead looked down to his feet. Feralis chuckled softly and rose to his feet with a groan and the slight creak of aged joints.

He walked past the messenger without a word, but he did slip a golden coin into the boys hanging hand before walking swiftly out of the room. The young boy looked down at the coin in his hand and then up to where the man he idolized had walked out of the room and smiled like a child who had just received something sweet before turning back to finish his duties around the castle.

I really don't know why I'm posting another chapter, seeing as how the forums are nowadays but I had an urge to edit the next one and post it up.


Chapter 7: Different Perspectives

4E4 Sun’s Dawn 18th, Bhoriane
Afternoon


The Ra’Gada captain nodded in confirmation as a score of men carrying wood and stone made their way over to a gap in the city wall. They piled the stones carefully on top of each other and then wedged the wooden boards behind them to anchor it, thus creating a three foot high, improvised wall.

The scene repeated itself along the entire wall that protected the city as the holes made by the enemy siege weapons were plugged up with haste.

Broccas stood over the same north gate he had been on top of when the battle had started six days ago. The only difference now was his optimistic mood had decreased somewhat, even with the arrival of the Wayrestian navy. They hardly helped with the siege anyways as they stayed out on their boats during the day to keep watch for any Daggerfallian ships. Plus there was still no word from the promised reinforcements yet.

Some commotion down the wall gained his attention but he saw it was only a giddy soldier who had spotted some Daggerfallian foraging parties who had wandered too close.

“Must they play with us?” asked a burly looking Breton standing next to the captain.

Broccas shook his head as he looked over the empty plain between the walls and the sea of shabby looking shelters that made up the enemies camp.

“They must know Wayrest is helping us.” he said, but he took a quick look around and gave a snort at the lack of anyone form Wayrest in the city.

“I know.” said the man with a shake of his head. “The bastards could at least get off their ships to help rebuild the walls.”

Broccas said nothing, but his sly grin showed his agreement with the statement. He did a mental count of the men at his disposal, like he did every hour to remind himself.

Of the six hundred semi-professional citizen soldiers he had started with, he still had an impressive four hundred and some-odd soldiers in fighting condition. The hastily recruited men of old and young citizens was a different story however and was one that brought him some sorrow. At the beginning of the siege he had estimated they could rally eight hundred of them to fight, but over eleven hundred eager citizens had shown up to be armed, armored and sorted, including a number of young boys who had put wood blocks under their shoes to appear taller. Casualties for those troops had numbered at least fifty percent including injured and so Broccas had decided to use them only as builders and a reserve.

“When do you think they’ll hit again?” asked his Breton friend.

“Considering how deceptively simple they’ve been by trying to keep us on our toes, I’d have to say a late evening attack is most likely. I could be wrong though.” he said with a shrug.

The Breton man looked up at the early afternoon sky and smiled as if he hadn’t a trouble in the world then picked up his spear and jogged down the stairs without a word, leaving the captain with his thoughts, the breeze and the smell of blood in the air.

********


4E4 Sun’s Dawn 18th, Coastline South-West of Orsinium
Afternoon


“These Orcs were rather productive in two days weren’t they?” asked Jorgung rhetorically, looking over at Feralis.

The two stood on a small hill along the coast line, watching the waves roll over the shore and the forms of the levies who struggled through the tide to clamber aboard their ships.

Jorgung spoke again as he watched the under-commanders try to bring some order to the men who were piling onto the hundreds of bulky transport ships, “Damn Koegria for not giving us passage. I’d take the extra day of traveling over getting this lot packed and unpacked in hostile beaches.” he said with a jab of his thumb towards the beach.

Feralis gave a small nod of agreement as he watched his appointed men walk up the ramps onto the ships.

“Quite a feat for the Orcs to accomplish though in such short notice, even if it was only a hundred ships.” continued Jorgung.

“They had most of them built already. I asked.” said Feralis simply, still looking out over the beach.

“Oh.” was all the response the Nord could give as they went back to watching the boarding operation.

The good thing about the ships was that they could get there in a day and a half now instead of three from where they were. However, as Jorgung had mentioned, getting three thousand poorly trained soldiers and their supplies onto ships was a lesson of near futility.

Feralis broke out of his trance-like stare. “We’ll be there in a day and a half with no worries.” he said with a smile. With that, he patted his lieutenant on the shoulder and walked to his tent that resided in a small crop of trees perched on top of the overlooking hill.

********


4E4 Sun’s Dawn 18th, North-East of Gauvadon
Afternoon


The young general could hardly contain his glee as he re-read the official letter from Elysana for what must have been the hundredth time.

“An entire Legion Kellen!” he exclaimed with a large smile. He couldn’t believe it when the letter had first arrived, but over the last few days it was finally dawning on him. Three thousand fully trained Legionnaires along with the already arrived thousand levies and the citizen armies of Gauvadon who numbered, if all gathered, at least ten thousand. He could hardly contain his glee.

“What are your plans then?” asked Kellen, who served as Timothy’s lieutenant, cup-bearer, bodyguard and childhood friend all in one.

At this, the young man’s face fell a little as he gritted his teeth in anger. “Unfortunately nothing big for the moment. I do not wish Elysana to remove me from my post; but once we establish ourselves here with the Sixth we can begin probing and poking at Norvulk and Wind Keep. After all, she said we can defend ourselves if attacked.” he said with a devious smile.

Kellen smiled as well, just as eager as his friend to begin the war. “How much longer until the passes are fortified?”

“The single pass from Norvulk is almost complete. The Gauvadonians are finishing up the second fort and the pass will be secure. The two passes to Wind Keep are just as close to being finished and the central one,” he said, pointing to the ground to refer to the pass they were in, “should hopefully be done in a fortnight.”

The central pass was wide, rocky and difficult to build on, so construction had been slow to begin with, but two forts were already laid out and the next two were getting their positions cleared and flattened.

“Norvulk is foolish for not defending their pass.” remarked Kellen.

“They believe Evermore is the strongest defence they have. I for one look forward to crushing Evermore and forcing those disloyal cowards back under Wayrest’s control.”

“The scouts have reported no movement in or around the city though. Are you sure they will resort to war or might they take a peaceful route?” asked Kellen.

“They will have no choice when I am knocking on their gates at the head of my army! Wind Keep’s pass defences cannot keep us out for long after all and the city is even smaller than Norvulk.”

He fell silent as he envisioned his triumphal return to Wayrest after capturing Evermore and re-taking the two smaller cities of Wind Keep and Norvulk.

“What is your take on the Daggerfall fiasco Tim?” asked Kellen as he broke the silence.

“Feralis can handle them, but I do worry that any progress I make here might be halted to further the work on the western front.”

He paused for a second before turning to his old friend with a grim smile on his face.

“We are here to be kept out of the way, unfortunate as it may sound. Few trust me and even fewer wish to see me have any sort of success.” he explained, his voice filled with resentment. “The war-party would use me only to further their gains and Feralis does not believe in my abilities. We,” he said with another grim smile and a bitter laugh, “are out here only so we may not interfere with the conflict in the west my friend.”

Kellen stared down at the ground as he contemplated his generals’ words and he too felt a feeling of resentment surge through his chest.

“What do you plan on doing then?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Elysana was wise to send me here, as much as I hate to admit it. I am just far enough out of the way that keeping my political presence in the city will prove difficult, but not too far that she cannot keep an eye on me.” he growled. “Spiteful witch.”

This drew a raised eyebrow from Kellen who laughed nervously as he looked around the empty tent as though expecting agents of the Queen to swoop down on them for such treasonous talks. Timothy noticed this and laughed a genuinely jovial laugh. He walked over to his friend and patted him on the shoulder.

“Our position may be compromised my friend, but we will find a way. The masses are simple folk, who in times like this will praise anyone who brings about victory.”

He paused and looked east, as if he were staring down the walls of Evermore itself. He glanced over at Kellen and a sly smile crept onto his handsome face.

“We will make sure we are the ones to bring that victory to the people.” he said as he paused and looked south to Wayrest as his face fell. “We have no choice.”

********


4E4 Sun’s Dawn 18th, Wayrest
Afternoon


“You’ve heard then?” asked Vienne impatiently. “Oh of course you have.” she snapped before Jack could answer. “You have an annoying habit of hearing everything.”

Jack smiled in mock-sheepishness and bowed his head as he reclined in his chair, feet upon his ornate desk.

“So Wayrest declares war already?” he asked rhetorically. He shook his head with a smile and sighed. “What do you think m’dear?”

Vienne’s eye’s narrowed dangerously at his comments and airy attitude. Her patience with Jack had been running thin lately as she had found him to be even more cryptic and annoyingly informed than usual.

“The war gives me little cause for concern at the moment. In fact, it may be a help to me... to us.”

Jack straightened up a little at this and tilted his head in his usual boyish fashion.

“Whatever do ya mean m’dear?”

“Just quit the mysterious act you idiot.” she growled. “You know perfectly well where my ambitions lie at this time and you’ve once again proven your annoying habit of knowing what you shouldn’t.”

She paused to collect herself by taking a deep breath before staring into Jack’s eyes.

“People are talking Jack, as I’m sure you’ve heard. Many think my mother unfit for the throne anymore.” she paused as she considered her next words. “I somewhat agree with those people.”

Jack dropped the boyish act in an instant as his face became stony and somehow more mature, as though he had aged fifteen years. He took his feet off of his desk and sat up, looking into Vienne’s eyes as he studied her in the deep silence. Vienne returned the stare in equal intensity and determination as the silence grew longer and tenser between them.

“Then the time has come Vienne, for ya to achieve your ambitions. It is time for ya to make a move, and I know ya will need help doing so.”

Vienne was taken aback by this claim, and she quickly reset the shocked look on her face but she knew her thoughts were betrayed by the split second moment of utter shock. She closed her eyes and thought for a moment before opening them again.

“You will help me depose the most powerful woman in High Rock? You would risk all you have built here for such a risk?” she asked with urgency. They had always talked about taking her mother out together, but with the moment arriving so soon, Vienne did not think Jack would even expect her to do so.

Jack considered her words for a moment before shaking his head. “I risk nothing here. I am merely a provider Vienne, like always, but instead of providing words and advice I give you what you need in this conflict. An accomplice.”

He finished just as the single door into the room opened, allowing the sounds of the tavern to rush in momentarily before closing again. Vienne turned in her chair to see a man in a blue robe standing in front of the closed door. His face was pale and white but not eerily so. His hair was nearly non-existent except for a small patch of wispy white whiskers above his ears. This made him seem older than his face did, which despite being sunken and pale was youthful, unwrinkled and bore a slight smile to reveal a tooth-filled grin.

Vienne saw the top of a tattoo on the left side of his neck, but could not tell what it was. The man swept into the room with elf-like grace and sat to the left of the princess in one of the plush chairs provided by Jack. Vienne shivered as he sat down, as though he radiated a cold aura off of his pale skin but she hid it quickly and kept a passive face as she looked to Jack for an answer. The man had unnerved her, but what she saw next was simply frightening to her. The look on Jacks usually cocky and boyish face had disappeared, to be replaced by one of.... fear? Trepidation? Respect? She couldn’t tell, but she had never seen such a look on his face before and it made her more intimidated by the man.

“Vienne, meet Francis Illryn.” said Jack, with noticeable strain in his voice.

Vienne looked over to the man and managed a strained nod before turning back to Jack who avoided her gaze with determination. The silence was broken by a chuckle from Francis, which sounded like a sick man with a chest cold that had settled deep into his lungs. It disgusted and frightened Vienne even more.

“Why such a tense silence?” he asked, his voice dry and strong with a hint of his phlegmy-sounding cough in it. “Come now, I was told we were going to talk business here. Miss Vienne, I have heard wonderful things about you from Jack here.” he said, reaching over and taking her hand in his.

His skin was surprisingly warm and soft for someone who so repulsed Vienne but it still sent goose bumps up her arms. He lowered his bald head and pressed his dry, cracked lips to her soft hand and she felt her arm twitch back involuntarily. Francis seemed not to notice as he smiled again and released her hand which she promptly snapped back into her lap.

“She is ready to begin.” Jack told him in the uncharacteristic strained voice.

“Yes I would imagine, but before we plan these things perhaps you would like an explanation m’lady?” he asked politely. He did not wait for her to answer. “Jack here has told me all about your desire to ascend to the throne early. I wish to offer my assistance in doing so.”

Vienne finally snapped out of her silence at these words and shook her head. “How am I to trust you in this matter?”

Francis laughed again, which only irritated Vienne though she said nothing. “How can you not trust me now that we’ve met?” he asked bluntly.

Vienne shot a furious look across the table at Jack. “How do you plan on helping me? Last I checked, you were most unpopular amongst the more powerful nobles in the city. What support can you possibly give me?”

“Fair question, and as we are going to be partners in crime, so to speak, I will answer you honestly.” he said, but hesitated as a sly smile crossed his face.” Mostly. First, I have more support than you think I do, but not in the Council, or amongst the aristocracy of the city. My support is more powerful than you can comprehend my dear. More powerful than your Council of Nobles, more powerful than your Queen.” he paused and smiled a more sinister smile. “More powerful than even any Emperor has ever been I daresay.”

Vienne was confused at this cryptic claim to power but she would have to figure it out later. Perhaps he was just being dramatic. “What do you wish in return for this?” she asked suspiciously.

“Another splendid question!” he exclaimed. “I wish only for my associates and I to be given what is rightfully ours and to be granted certain... rights once you ascend the throne.”

“And your associates are?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“You will learn in good time my lady, but for now we must begin the planning.” he responded dismissively. “Already my agents are getting into place and doing what is necessary to sway what few nobles we can into supporting you. Several others will join on my accord and even more will join whether they wish to or not in good time. Now all we need is a scapegoat. Someone to take the fall when your mother is dead to allow you to succeed her without accusations of murder, regicide or any of that nasty business.”

Vienne was stunned by all of this. The fact that plans were already in motion without her knowing shocker her but also made her angry. This was not how she envisioned rising to power.

Francis took her silence with a chuckle and continued speaking. “Do not worry, for time will not be wasted figuring out who to implicate in this and I will spare you an explanation until later.”

Vienne continued to sit with a confused look on her face. Her thoughts whirled at the sudden events and she looked from the gently smiling face of Francis to the averted gaze of Jack. Her eyes lingered on the young man but she looked back to Francis after a moment.

“Do my preparations count for nothing then?” she asked with some bitterness in her voice.

“You couldn’t be more wrong my lady!” exclaimed Francis. “Please, lay out what you have accomplished so far so that we may join our plans together.”

“Which nobles are being ‘swayed’ to our cause?” she asked curiously, ignoring his request for a moment.

“Minor ones. Once they are on our side, it will become quite clear to you who they are. They are small-time and virtually invisible in the politics of Wayrest, but with ambition to reach higher.”

Vienne wasn’t satisfied with the answer but she didn’t press the issue any more. “Do you have a time frame in mind?” she asked.

“Three weeks.” came the confident answer from the mysterious man.

“Three weeks?” echoed the woman with a look of disbelief on her face. “You want to stage a coup on my mother in such a short time?”

“Like I said before, my lady, plans have been in motion for months now. Upon hearing about your increased ambitions from Jack here and your mother declaring war on Daggerfall, I simply accelerated them to use this opportunity we have been given. But please, tell me what you had in mind!”

Vienne hesitated because compared to what this man had apparently done already, her plans seemed weak and almost childish. She decided she wasn’t going to get anywhere by remaining silent though and took a deep breath.

“I have a man in the Fighters Guild. He has promised the muscle behind my movement as long as I make sure the Guild doesn’t get involved in the conflict by name. I also have a contact in Evermore; a minor wizard in the Castle or something of the like. He doesn’t know everything nor does he wield much influence, but through him I have won over some rebellious sympathizers in the city.”

“And they plan to do what exactly?” asked Francis with a small smile. He always seemed to be smiling.

Vienne bit her lip and felt her face go red, as she looked down at the floor. She had never really known why she had gained a trustee in Evermore and now she felt like an idiot again.

“Never mind that for now. Continue please.” he said quickly, obviously trying to save her pride.

She hesitated again but now she just didn’t care if she sounded pathetic or not. The man clearly had her path to Queendom paved out better than she did herself and her plans seemed inconsequential now.

“The last and most useful of my allies is the oligarchs. Through careful talks and persuasion, plus a substantial amount of gold and promises, I think I have their loyalty.”

Francis raised an eyebrow at this and his smile increased tenfold. “My dear, you are just as cunning as I’ve been told. I must be honest by saying that Wayrest is becoming more and more an oligarchic rule with each day and this brings me to very important point.” he said, his voice losing its cheerful edge as it fell to a more serious tone. “With the oligarchs behind us, little can stop your ascent, but you must be willing to face the fact that when you become Queen, it will be the day that the monarchy will disappear from Wayrest.”

“What?” she yelled, slamming her fists on the table causing Jack to jump, but Francis simply stared into her eyes without a trace of emotion on his face. She glared back at him for as long as she could and then averted her eyes to the floor as she collected her thoughts and calmed herself.

She looked back up with a grim look set onto her pretty face. With a nod she said, “I know. That is why I recruited them in the first place.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Francis as his serious demeanour melted away in a flash, to be replaced with the warmly sinister smile that Vienne despised. “Unfortunately, I have to be going now as I’ve already stayed too long.”

He rose from his seat suddenly and turned back to the two, taking Vienne’s hand in his own and kissing it again. “We will be in touch soon my lady. Jack here will inform you when. Good evening to the both of you.” he said with another smile before sweeping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind him, leaving Jack and Vienne alone.

The princess looked back at her old friend, but found herself unable to get mad at him. She just let out a hollow laugh and said with some bitterness, “I guess we’ve finally met our match.”

Jack just nodded and said nothing.

Hell yeah. You just gave me some inspiration to write something. 1 UP for you buddy.

Chapter 8: The Lightning-Struck Wall

4E4 Sun’s Dawn 20th, Bhoriane
Sunrise


Broccas grimaced as another rock flew overhead and slammed into the wall of a nearby house. A similar scene repeated itself along the walls for as far as he could see, destroying the buildings behind the wall and leaving piles of rubble blocking the streets. The experienced Redguard understood what was happening but he could do little to stop it as the Daggerfallian siege engines continued their barrage.

He dared a peak above the top of the wall and cursed under his breath as he got to his feet. A wave of heavily armed soldiers rushed the walls, ladders in their hands as well as grappling hooks for the not too tall wall.

“Up men of Bhoriane!” he shouted and turned back to the hazy field as his men rose from their cover. The distance was still considerable between the walls and the attackers but they ran the entire way, fearing the deadly hail of missiles that would come from the determined defenders.

Broccas was about to call for his men to ready themselves when he was suddenly blasted to his left, completely blinded and his ears ringing. His eyesight came back first, as he surveyed the splintered wall, trying to ignore the purple blotches in his vision.

A common cry of “Wizards!” sprang up around the wall as more lightning bolts blasted in, picking off soldiers and shattering the wooden wall bit by bit. The Captains hearing came back eventually so he could fully hear the commotion around him as another lightning bolt slammed into the wall below him.

“Beasts! Ogres!” came a cry to his left, and the terror in the man’s voice got Broccas to his feet to peer over the wall again. Broccas cursed again as his usually calm demeanour slipped away with the desperate situation. A dozen large, pale blue ogres ran their way up to the northern gate. The front few carried large bits of wood like shields to protect the others, but from his angle the Ra’Gada could see a large ram being carried by the beasts.

He did not even have time to contemplate how Daggerfall controlled the beasts as a stone sailed only a few feet over his head to smash into a pile of rubble behind him.

“Sir, the west and east walls are only under light attack!” came a cry from below. Broccas crawled to peer over the lip of the wall at one of his soldiers. “Lightly pressed,” he said again, “but tied down firmly under a hail of magick!”
Broccas nodded and turned back to look at the approaching ogres who made it to the walls before the charging soldiers. In their panic, men fired their missiles at the wooden shields in a futile attempt to bring the creatures down.

“Hold!!” shouted Broccas, his voice rising above the noise of battle. His strong voice seemed to strengthen his soldiers resolve and brought some order as they held their missiles in check. “Now!” shouted their Captain as the ogres came in close to the gate and parted their wooden wall to allow the ram to access the gate.

Three beasts holding the ram went down with a crash but three more replaced them as the shield bearers rushed to the sides to offer some protection. A few more missiles flew out but the magickal assault continued with a new ferocity, as fire mingled with lightning to shatter man and wall alike.

The already weak gate bent with the force of the first blow and Broccas knew the time had come to abandon the walls. He had one trick left to hold the tide back at the gate and allow his men time to retreat however.

“Withdraw! Back to the keep!” he called, and the order spread like wildfire along the length of the walls. The demoralized men poured from the walls, many forcing their way down the stairs while others simply jumped. If the fall hurt, they showed no pain as they tore off down the streets away from the enemy.

The gate bent in further and Broccas leaped down the last few stairs and met with two men next to the gate. Broccas took on man’s spear and shoved it through the bent opening, smiling grimly as he heard an ogre cry out in pain. The other two men quickly struck up two torches and set fire to the gateway.

They did not wait to see if the plan succeeded as the gate smashed in just as the fire started up the wooden walls. One man was unfortunate to get separated by the shattered gate and all he offered was a brave salute to Broccas as he turned to face the ogres charge.

Broccas did not turn back to see the man get pounded into the ground, blood and gore splattering out on the ogres who poured in. Three made it through the entrance but the fire did its intended job, when the already weak structure collapsed and took a blue beast with it. Broccas heard the collapse keenly and knew that they had bought some time by blocking the way, but he did not let up as he caught up to his fleeing soldiers. He turned to see the men of Daggerfall climb over the paraqets and onto the wooden walls before he turned a corner into the main city square.

He saw men fleeing from the east wall and nodded as the enemy was still far back in their pursuit. A cry from the west caught his attention and he turned to see a wave of his men pour into the city square, giving ground to the pressing enemies. Broccas felt his anger rise when he saw that these men were not of Daggerfall, but were the rebels from Bhoriane.

He rushed towards the battle, caring little for the organized retreat as he drew his sabre and pushed into the melee. The enemy force he faced was little more than two hundred scattered men, obviously a force that had pushed ahead of the main body on the west side of the city. Broccas noticed with a flinch that a small number of his own men were coming from the west and he knew that the retreat on that side of the city was more likely a full out rout.

He rallied a dozen men from the north wall with his charge and when they saw their Captain enter the fray, the men of Bhoriane gave a hearty cheer and firmly planted their feet to hold back the press of men. Broccas had not done too much fighting in the siege, not out of fear but because he did not think there was anyone capable of taking effective command if he were killed. The situation now was dire and he threw his concern away and smiled grimly as he felt his sword bite into the flesh of an enemy.

He squared off against another man armed with a short blade as the tight melee slowly spread out into the city square. Broccas snarled and came in with a high chop for the man’s right shoulder which was promptly batted away. His enemy reversed the direction of his blade skilfully and Broccas had to throw his hips out to avoid the well-aimed stab but he was off balance from the dodge and quickly found himself in a bad situation. His enemy was more skilled then he had expected as he snapped his blade to the left to barely block a horizontal swipe. The two broke away for a moment, eyeing each other with new respect before coming together again.

The old Ra’Gada knew that time was short and the enemy would be coming from the north soon to encircle his men in the city square. He could not gain an advantage against this skilled fighter though as their swords met, locking together for a moment. Broccas was old, but he was not helpless, which he proved by sweeping his left foot low, deftly tripping the man to a knee. Broccas did not have the time to finish the kill as he saw the first ogre come into the far side of the square. The best he could do was slam his pommel into the back of the man’s head as he ran towards the keep, calling for his men to follow.

The rout was on in full now as the doors of the keep came into view, open with enough space for perhaps one man at a time as the anxious soldiers inside watched their comrades flee the pressing tide. Broccas was at the back of his force, determined to be the last one in but figured he would never make it in time to get in without enemies slipping inside as well.

He nearly stumbled in surprise when a wave of arrows flew over him to cut down the leading soldiers of Daggerfall. He smiled with grim satisfaction as he made the gate well ahead of the main body. He heard the heavy doors bang shut, with three wooden bars sliding into place with a slamming noise that pained Broccas to his very heart.

He had lost the city.

---------


“The city!” came the cry along the deck of ships, and Feralis looked calmly from his lead-ship, the only trireme of the group. He regretted the thirty extra war-ships had not been ready but he knew time had been a factor and he drove the thoughts from his mind.

“Sir, the scouts are back with news of a suitable stretch of beach to the east of the city.” called Jorgung.

“How far?” asked the General, still surveying the distant city which was a good ten minutes away still.

“About three miles from the city sir. The scouts also say the city is under heavy attack and we have made contact with Admiral Smithfield. He remains at sea, watching for a Daggerfall attack.”

Feralis nodded in agreement, knowing the lightly armored marines would not be as useful in the coming melee. “The landscape?” he asked.

“Two hills lie next to each other, about a hundred yards off the beach and look defensible enough. The land had long since been cleared off forests though and I fear any landing would be seen soon enough.” replied Jorgung, voicing his concerns.

A small, swifter craft pulled up next to the flag-ship and hailed the General. “The city is lost and the docks have been captured! The Admiral thinks that your men should land in the docks and clear them out. The men of Bhoriane have fallen back to the castle.”

Feralis thought about this quickly and knew the docks would be a risky landing, even more so then the beach. He turned to his trusted friend, Jorgung, with a questioning look in his intelligent eyes.

“Beach would be the best bet I think. By all accounts, the city is taken and the docks are not connected to the keep in any way.”

Feralis nodded, thinking the same thing and turned back to the swift messenger ship. “Tell the Admiral to hold his position in a tight circle around the harbour. Tell him we are making our landing to the east of the city and will send further instructions when we are secured.” He watched the ship row off with haste and turned to Jorgung. “Prepare the men for a hard landing and tell them to have construction in their minds when they do so.”

Jorgung turned to a lesser officer who saluted and ran off to pass the message to all of the transports. The Nord turned back to his friend, “You do not plan to go directly to the aid of the city.” he stated more then asked.

“Not until I can get a reliable report on what we face. We will dig in as fast as we can.” he explained, but the doubt was clear on his face. These were not the professionally trained legions he normally commanded, but levies with no training beyond basic commands and formations.

The coast line drew near and Feralis surveyed the two hills as his ships came closer and closer with each second. The westernmost hill was not very promising as it was low, wide and smoothly rolling. The east hill, the one further from the city, was more defensible with two sides being sheer cliff face, rising twice as tall as the other hill. It was larger too and had a flat top instead of the rolling dome of the other hill. The entire area was covered with small rolling hills, but the north and the east were surrounded by thick forests not two hundred yards from the target hills.

He cursed silently for his lack of cavalry but these thoughts were driven from his thoughts as his ship slid into the soft, wet sand. The other ships did so and the men poured out of the hulls, eager to be free of the cramped interiors as they went about their appointed duties. The men from the ships to the left of Feralis ran for the western hill, weapons ready. The men from the right dashed across the beach, pieces of the already dismantled rowers benches from dozens of ships in their hands and simple construction tools hanging from their belts.

The poor citizen rowers from these ships ran east with a small contingent of men to begin hacking down trees for additional lumber. Feralis was impressed by the speed and organization of the levies but he still lamented not having legionary soldiers doing this instead.

His head turned to his north when the sound of metal on metal reached his ears, where apparently the enemy had met his own forces. Jorgung had led the assault on the west hill and was not too surprised to see a small outpost already there with two dozen thoroughly bored Daggerfall soldiers lazing around a small fire. The battle was brutal and over in a short time but the sounds that reached the ears of the General came from the two hundred reinforcements sent by the Daggerfall leaders upon learning of the landing.

Jorgung reorganized his strike force and settled them on the side of the hill, knowing he had to buy the men behind him some time as the hastily built palisades were set up. The enemy charged with abandon at the small force, not understanding that there were three thousand men scattered behind the hills on the beach. A short missile exchange was followed by the two forces charging fiercely at each other, the men of the two rival cities longing for each other’s blood.

The men of Daggerfall were armed slightly better, with fine iron spears and blades but the hill proved to be their downfall as the simple tactical error cost them the battle and their lives. While the hill wasn’t steep, the Daggerfallians had hoped their charge would drive the men away with pure ferocity. The brave men of Wayrest held their own however.

Jorgung was formidable enough, his heavy axe cleaving through the simple leather cap and then the skull of an unfortunate man. The burly but agile Nord shield rushed his next opponent, pushing the spear out of the way skilfully. He noted another enemy on his exposed right side however, and instead of finishing the helpless man in front of him, he spun to his right quicker than his enemy had anticipated from the large man and soon found himself in a pool of his own blood with his spear knocked from his hands.

The battle of the western hill was over in only ten minutes, with the Daggerfallians routed and cut down as the men of Wayrest used the downhill momentum to cut down the fleeing enemies.

Feralis watched the battle from the top of the hill and nodded in admiration of his soldiers’ ferocity. He saw more men of Daggerfall moving around in the distance but the crude palisades were complete along the western hill by now and they ran all the way down the beach to connect the hills with the ships.

Jorgung came up to his good friend and General with a large smile on his face. “These men fight better than I expected!” he said loudly, the adrenaline rushing through his body still.

“They fought well.” admitted the General. “Have the proper walls completed quickly. Get the beach and the western hill done first then we will move to enclose the beach if time permits.”

Jorgung saluted and rushed away to help with the building of the proper walls that would make up the forts.

Feralis turned to the several runners next to him and addressed each one with a task. “Have a ship sent to the Admiral to inform him of our success. Have another ship sent back towards Wayrest to tell the coming legions where we are. Get teams of scouts moving through the area; I want reports every hour, understood?”

Each man saluted and ran off to his task. Feralis turned back towards the massed Daggerfallian army in the distance with a small smile. His men had gained a strong morale boost from the easy victory and the proper troops would be arriving hopefully in another week; sooner if the commander Feralis had left in Wayrest was working hard to recruit the Legions.

They had won the first battle in the war with Daggerfall. He looked out with a tingle of excitement that he could not help when it came to this sort of thing. Despite the fact the siege had lasted a week, the battle of Bhoriane was just beginning.

This is just wonderful man!