Rastislav
patreon
Arc 8 Chapter CXXVI: Fall of Riverhold
🕑 Added 2025-05-11 00:12:46 +0000 UTC(General POV, A bit earlier)
General Tolindir's face was pained as he listened to the Elder Mage's gushing about their most recent 'acquisitions' the seemingly youthful woman totally ignoring his obvious disinterest as she kept going on and on and on about how rare it was to get her hands on actual living spirits and how honored he should be to have been useful.
How the bloody corpses were still considered to be living he could never even begin to guess.
"Lady Medlivhen" He spoke "As much as I am humbled by your attention, I do have an army to run, and I do not doubt you would find much more fulfilling conversation with your fellow magi."
The woman covered her mouth and spoke with the utmost disdain "As if those failures were worthy of my attention."
Internally rolling his eyes, he nodded "As you say."
"Very well" The bored immortal played at grumbling "Since my presence is so underappreciated I will be going back to the spirits now. Do call for me if the humans try something."
"You have our eternal thanks, my lady." His voice was utterly flat as she walked off "Gods save me from those monsters."
Even he was unsure if he was referring to the dragons or the magi.
Shaking the useless thoughts away, he looked across the river Strid, the legionary encampment sitting just outside artillery range already surrounded by sturdy magic hewn walls.
"Their battlemages are competent at least." He noted, being an alteration mage himself.
The sound of armored boots drew him from his musings, and soon he saw his friend approach "Ja'razir" He nodded without fully turning "What do you have for me?"
The large cat man made a noise with his throat Tolindir learned meant great displeasure "All hunters that volunteers were returned as before." He hissed "Khajiit found no trace of the dragon, the beast is playing with us."
"So we have come to learn" Tolindir said numbly before, seemingly out of nowhere, stating "We are surrounded then."
"Khajiit would not put it that way..." Ja'razir tensed.
"No point in pretending." Tolindir shook his head "Any kind of supply run would need to be accompanied by a retinue capable of taking down a dragon before it can destroy the supplies, and that is not counting the other beast and its rider."
"The troops are already on edge." The cat man spoke what they both knew "If we implement rationing morale will plummet, we cannot fight a war like this."
"And if we do not" Tolindir frowned "We will need to begin requisitioning from the city itself."
"The Khajiit of Riverhold would happily donate their food." Ja'razir said, knowing that was more due to the fact the majority of the soldiers present were their brethren, and not high elves.
"And how long would that last us?" Tolindir asked "No, we need to find a way to establish a supply route, or we will simply be bled dry. Us and the city both."
For a moment he wondered why his friend did not respond and then his tired eyes rose to see a single figure stepping out of the legionary camp, gleaming armor of silver steel, crimson cloak, and a helm carved around a tusked mask on full display.
Tolindir's nearby aide immediately grabbed a war horn and blew in it, the enchanted instrument alerting the entire war camp.
The figure of the Empire's own demigod stopped walking, and Tolindir felt the telltale sign of the world itself holding its breath. He very nearly dove for the floor but thought better of it, as his position in the back was not the one she faced.
And then came the shout, as he had come to learn the spells were aptly named "SLEN TIID VO!"
This time his instincts did win over, and he leaned behind his war table, sharing a look with a shaking Ja'razir who did not even bother pretending he wasn't scared shitless.
Only... absolutely nothing happened.
Tolindir slowly stood up, and saw the confusion had also spread amongst his troops, he prepared to restore order and then he felt his heart sink as he heard them, the familiar roars of six dragons... in the back of his damned base.
In a blink, Lady Medlivhen appeared next to him, expression disturbingly eager "Deal with the legion, I will entertain our rowdy pets." And then she disappeared just as quickly.
Cursing the insanity of the elderly, the panicking General did as he was told, and the camp burst into action.
-
Minthara did not stop as she saw her brethren rise from the dead at her words, the Dragon Banner falling in behind her as she simply kept marching to the destroyed bridge that separated them from the Thalmor camp.
Three legionary cohorts left the camp behind them, followed soon by the engineer cohort and the Rihad Redguards, the lightly armored warriors looking more eager for battle than some orcs she had had the displeasure of meeting.
Enchanted bolts and rocks began flying from the elven base, some missing and some turned away by an invisible force as she reached the bridge, once more refusing to slow down as she simply commanded "Golz Tiid Vo."
Her intention and will met with the worlds, and the world buckled, the ruined bridge reforming as if it had never been damaged and expanding sideways to the point it could let an entire cohort pass shoulder to shoulder.
The elves atop the palisades panicked, and started loosing arrows at her and her honor guard without their previous discipline, the well crafted munitions simply bouncing off most of their armor if they even got that far.
One unlucky fellow got an arrow stuck in his collarbone but the burly Nord merely laughed the pain off.
The elven arrows refused to approach her as she stood before the wooden wall and demanded "Fus." Causing the wood to cave inwards and shatter into pieces, followed swiftly by "TIID KLO UL!" As her hammer appeared in her grasp.
The world ceased moving as she rushed through the opening, the heavily armored troop of Khajiit waiting behind the breach stuck mid-flinch as they were showered in pieces of wood and iron.
She grinned, and got to work.
The echo of the shout ended, and in the blink of an eye, the Khajiiti warriors disappeared in a burst of blood, the Crown Princess of the Empire appearing just beyond their completely mauled formation and clutching at the throat of an elven Archmage.
The old elf choked, panic in his eyes, but only for a moment, as his neck was snapped and his head moved a full nighty degrees sideways.
Credit where credit was due, the elf managed to activate a final spell as he was slain, bathing the area in fire or at least attempting to, as a floating figure clad in recently remade robes materialized behind Minthara.
Vahlok clutched his hand, and the inferno that threatened his goddess shrunk into a tiny spot of immense heat, the Dragon Priest waving his staff to the side and deflecting an immense shard of ice with barely any effort.
The elven Archmage attempting to ambush him immediately summoned a group of Dremora and attempted to teleport away, but the instant Vahlok detected his destination within the chaos of the battlefield he too opened a passage.
And sent the tiny speck of light through it.
Hundreds of meters away, a stone tower was disintegrated by a sudden blast of concentrated fire.
Those few moments of destruction was all it took for the warriors of the Empire as the Dragon Banner surged through the breach in the wall, the elite force splitting into three as Skirnir led one flank to the western wall and Muntazir one to the eastern, the smallest group under Lydia jogging up to Minthara who had just happily finished turning a group of Khajiiti riders into a smear on the ground with one word.
In the distance, the legionary artillery began bombarding the elven positions, and the first cohort crossed the bridge, their enchanted banner deflecting a blast of thunder and letting them pass unmolested.
Soon, the entire southern end of the elven war camp fell into chaos.
-
Elder Medlivhen smiled gleefully as she saw one of her new pets disembowel the other, the dragon's eyes glazed over as her illusions made him believe his brother was in actuality an arrogant elf who dared belittle him.
The fool that passed for her apprentice finally brought down her own target, as the dragon's bones turned jagged and sharp, cutting the beast to pieces from within.
"A bit garish" Medlivhen commented "But good execution."
The centuries old apprentice beamed and began chasing after the two remaining dragons, as they were still supposed to help the idiot mortals with their petty little war, and letting them burn a fifth of the camp was a bit much even in her own books.
She felt the god child crushing the mortals around her and smiled, making the dragon dig out its own heart as she finally grew bored of it before teleporting away.
A Nord warrior immediately tried stabbing her as she materialized next to him, but his brother in arms suddenly thrust his sword through his neck with strength he did not possess previously, the entire detachment of warriors falling into violence as they forgot their own names and knew only bloodlust.
She was just about to move on to the next group when suddenly one of the corpses jumped up, spear very nearly taking out her throat, or at least it would have if she was not beyond mere physicality.
Her robes activated and the spear passed through her, the undead before her disintegrating with the slightest twitch of her fingers as she teleported away once again, just in time to avoid the curse of pain hurtling at her.
Her assailant did not slow down however, as the rather... antique lich appeared next to her, hand glowing with what she immediately recognized as the advanced soul trap master necromancers used to rip souls out of still living bodies.
"Sovengarde saraan!" The creature growled triumphantly, even as it was blasted away by a burst of cursed sunlight, the edges of its robes burning in ghostly flames as they began turning its power against it.
Medlivhen did not escape unscathed however, as she felt an unyielding tether on her soul. The soul rend may have failed but the soul trap still stuck with her, and to her surprise she felt that if she were to day during the entire day her soul would be imprisoned.
"Ha!" She croaked as the sensation made her shudder "As if a corpse could kill me."
The undead heard her and let out a grinding noise that may or may not have been a chuckle "Sahlon fahlil" It drawled "Zu'u nuz fin aar."*
Her growing annoyance practically exploded as the creature refused to speak in civilized even if it had previously shown it could understand her.
Feeling distinctly petty, Medlivhen met its eyes, the burning embers behind the mask flickering as her grand mastery of illusion magic struck its mind. She felt the spell connect and smiled gleefully as she expected the undead to simply unmake itself.
Only... it merely stared at her.
Her perception of time slowed as she examined what had just happened, tracing her spell's path into the creature only to find that it had somehow been... conceptually imprisoned?
Swiftly realizing she was not dealing with a mere mage here, Medlivhen's entire posture shifted, and she disappeared from her spot, the curse sneaking up on her very nearly managing to touch her.
'Of course it is an overcharged rot touch.' She scowled, and summoned a scroll. The parchment enchanted by the greatest healer on Alinor glowing brightly as she pointed the 'unmake undead' spell at the Dragon Priest.
Sadly for her, Vahlok's words were not mockery, they were a warning.
"TIID KLO UL!" Minthara's mask shimmered as she used the fully powered time stop shout for the first time since battle was joined, the group of Thalmor Justiciars hounding her disappearing into fine red mist as she leaped off the ground and towards the Elder Mage fighting Vahlok.
Medlivhen gasped as she felt the familiar tug on time, her training during the battle against the Numidium rapidly kicking in as she dragged herself aside within the timeline, the spell draining the vast majority of her Magicka as she perceived the death of her self proclaimed bodyguard detail, the god child's leap, and the hammer passing through her flesh, all at the same time.
The timeline spat her back to where she belong, the force of it very nearly destabilizing the wards she kept up at all times. So wrung out was she that the only reason she remained in the air was the enchantment on her footwear.
The god child placed her hammer atop her shoulder and looked at the Elder Mage "Growing tired, old woman?" She mocked.
Medlivhen focused her mind, scanning the battlefield, the two dragons still rampaging through the camp even as her apprentice chased after them, and the flagging morale of her own band of idiot mortals.
Oh the self proclaimed Archmages of her people were certainly doing damage, entire cohorts were blown apart by them in the past few minutes, but the arrogant fools kept falling to simple fucking javelins because they were too stupid to protect themselves while showing off.
The Elder Mage saw the god child twitch, readying an attack, felt the tugging sensation at her soul, and promptly made her decision. Fuck that!
-
Minthara's eye twitched rapidly as the mage disappeared from the battlefield, dropping hundreds of illusions of herself as she did with the exact damn signature as her both in magic and soul.
And to make things worse, the damned illusions were somehow killing her people!
"Fucking asshole." She growled and began the long process of chasing them down. Hopefully their master could at least see what she was about to do to them.
---
Medlivhen reappeared within her tower in Alinor, her apprentice getting dragged with her and appearing next to her with a missing arm and eye.
"Master?" The woman questioned.
"We are not wasting any more time on this farce." Medlivhen declared, voice definitely breaking.
Her student tilted her head "May I ask why?"
"No" She snapped "You may not."
The apprentice bowed, and walked off to heal herself.
While Medlivhen merely remained in place, memories of another Nord who could make her feel this terrified flashing through her mind.
And then, a sudden thought occurred 'By the time Talos reached Alinor, his voice was taken by an assassin's blade.' Her fingers balled into a fist on their own 'This Septim has no such limitation...'
---------
General Tolindir felt his eyes drooping as his bodyguard handed him a stamina potion, his sight clearing just in time to see a unit of heavy legionary infantry throw a salvo of javelins into the backs of his retreating troops, the dozen or so elven warriors falling to the ground, pained screams tearing out of their throats.
"Call for a full retreat" He ordered tiredly, his heart utterly empty even as he saw an Archmage bring down the final revived dragon "The camp is lost and they are cutting through our lines, we must hold the walls now."
"What use are walls?" Ja'razir hissed next to him "If they can simply be told to part."
Tolindir grunted in irritation at his friend but did not answer.
The silence between them failed to take hold as the clashing of steel, the screams of the dying, and the terrible roars of magic refused to die down, seeming to only grow worse as his orders were transferred and his troops began a semi orderly retreat.
Many died as the imperial cohorts rushed after them, especially those facing the Redguard auxillia, the desert warriors nearly ignoring the Khajiit and chasing after Altmer specifically.
And when they caught them, they took their time killing them.
Tolindir steeled his heart and looked away as he saw a soldier of his be impaled, focusing instead on sending aid to those he could still save, even if it all felt rather useless as the dreadful red silhouette of the Septim's own mount bean circling the battlefield, the great beast descending and ruining his men with much greater skill than that of the dragons they had brought down previously.
To the point that even Archmagi could not take it down, and more often than not paid for the attempt with their very lives.
"Khajiit thinks..." Ja'razir began hesitantly "That you should flee."
Tolindir rounded on his friend with pure fury in his eyes "WHAT!?"
"This army is the only fighting force that can face the Empire in Elsweyr." Ja'razir refused to face him as he looked over the battlefield "If Rimmen were to fall, and they got their hands on the Mane**" He shook his head "Elsweyr would not stand with the Dominion for long."
"And what, you are going to stay here and die heroically?" Tolindir snapped.
"Yes" Ja'razir turned to face him "If need be, Khajiit will die to buy time."
The Altmer General felt his guts churn as he actually considered his friend's words, the very idea of retreat making him feel sick in the soul... But in the end he was a leader first, and both the war and the lives of his men came before his feelings, and he knew his friend was right.
"How many?" He asked hoarsely.
"Khajiit will only need a few thousand." Ja'razir responded simply "If only to make it believable."
"You will not delay them for long" Tolindir said uselessly.
"No." Ja'razir nodded "Khajiit will not."
Tolindir felt bile rising in his throat, as he accepted the truth of things, and spoke the accursed words.
---
Ja'razir stood below the southern gate of Riverhold, expression warm even as he saw the troops marching away in the thousands and leaving him and his behind "Follow the Walk-Of-Kings, the supplies should last you all the way to Rimmen and the oases will have enough water to get you through the desert."
"But what of your supplies?" Tolindir asked "We took far too much from the city."
Ja'razir chuckled bitterly "The Empire wishes to conquer these lands, and they will want to buy good will with the people. Riverhold will not starve, and the legion will be delayed while they wait for the supply train from Cyrodiil."
The elf and cat shared a devious look and both chuckled "Thank you, my friend." Tolindir offered his hand "We will meet again."
Ja'razir grinned "Do not doubt it."
---
The scene repeated itself within Ja'razir's mind as he felt the gates of the palace cave in under the weight of an enchanted hammer, the triumphant roar of dragons making his hairs stand on end even as he attempted to look brave for his men.
The masked figure of the child of Alkosh strolled into the palace of Riverhold with no fanfare, their eyes meeting as she tilted her head "You are the leader of this fortress?"
"Ja'razir is." He grinned at her, showing teeth as he clutched at his halberd.
He heard he mutter something, and suddenly his weapon was not in his hand and he was splayed out on the ground, his back aching something fierce as he looked up to see the demigod holding Jo'kosa by the scruff of her neck, the Alfiq's magic flailing uselessly as a levitating figure pointed an unmoving finger at her.
"You are the official authority of the city and the troops still standing within it." The Crown Princess of the Empire declared "You will command them to stand down, and the people to cease any kind of resistance, or I will react appropriately. Is that understood?"
Jo'kosa's defiant glare nearly made him defy the ultimatum.
But then, the legionaries outside began singing a song, a rather familiar song as well, one that was as offensive as it was unmistakable in meaning. The song of Pelinal.
The subtext of it all was clear to the cat man as he growled at his new captors "Very well."
"Excellent" She tossed his companion at him "Marco, you can tell them to stop now." She told the... fucking Altmer next to her?!
Why was he not surprised?
Ja'razir slowly got up under the watchful eyes of the heavily armored Nord warriors that followed the demigod inside, holding his Alfiq companion like his life depended on it, and with great hesitation in his heart, gave the command.
-----
Hours later, Minthara sat atop the throne of Riverhold, the secular Chieftain of the city forced to content himself with sitting to her side below her as the legionary quartermasters of all three recently reunited legions all gave her the same answer to her question.
She directed a scathing look towards the passage that led to the prisons but held herself back from doing something foolish. She may direct Marco to sing a little tune to the cheeky bastard later.
'As always, Reyvin's unhinged ideas work wonders' She chuckled internally, the story of Pelinal and how he was the sole reason Bravil and Leyawiin were not Khajiit cities was a well known one, but she underestimated just how terrified the cat people were of the Star-Made Knight.
...Then again it is said they worship Akatosh, or Alkosh, because he appeared to Pelinal to tell him to stop killing them.
Shaking the thoughts away, she faced her legionaries and nodded "So in short we cannot advance through the desert, and the enemy will be given time to reinforce and fortify their capital."
"Yes, Your Highness." The Quartermaster of the Second Legion bowed.
She cupped her chin, and considered matters. Her resurrected brothers were starting to feel the toll of her dragging them back into life in too short intervals, and they would preferably need to take a few months off or be replaced with others to risk it again...
Then, a thought occurred "The river Strid, it connects Riverhold to Arenthia, yes?"
"Indeed, Your Highness." General Julius stepped forward "A small tributary also passes through Skingrad, though it is mostly unnavigable."
"Still, it would be a useful supply line." She pointed out.
The General grinned "Without a doubt."
"Very well" Minthara decided "What moves are necessary to secure the line fully?"
The General did not answer immediately, sharing a few looks and mutters with his fellow officers before nodding and looking back up to her "The cities of Dune and Pa'Alat would serve perfectly, Your Highness. Though I do not foresee their garrisons presenting a grand challenge."
"Terrain?" She asked.
"Pa'Alat is placed to the north, where two forks of the Strid meet." He listed "It is a temperate place surrounded by hill and forest."
She nodded "The third will deal with that, you may take Vulstrunfeyn with you."
General Commodus saluted "The city will be ours within the week."
"Good." Is all she said.
"Dune" General Julius continued "Is the entrance to the great desert of western Elsweyr, likely to be much more well fortified, and is bordered by a great lake to its east, greatly limiting any approach."
She considered it for but a moment "I will be taking the fourth" General Darius nodded "The Rihad Auxillia" Emir Kasimir barely reacted "And Odahviing, to conquer the place. General Julius will remain to keep order in Riverhold and ensure supply lines."
The General of the Second Legion felt like protesting but he was no fool "The troops could use the rest" He accepted "I will ensure our supplies are in good order when the time come to move on."
The Quartermaster chose to pipe in "The Windhelm legion should be arriving in less than a week as well, their delay will ensure our supply lines are untouchable."
"Excellent" Minthara clapped her hands and stood up "I will go and talk to my brothers now, you are all dismissed."
'Now then' She wondered as she strolled away 'I wonder what Reyvin is doing?'
-
A few days of travel away, a grey-skinned elf whistled merrily, even as the forest around him withered and died, all the plants and many of the animals choking in accursed ash.
----------
*Weakling elf, I am but the servant.
**Special type of Khajiit chosen by the moons, serves as their ruler.
--------
As in the previous chapter, powerscaling justification time!
Vahlok bodied Miraak, who himself was a monster in comat, and their battle literally tore Solstheim off Skyrim's shores. Meaning Vahlok is not to be fucked with, especially with his brand new robes (courtesy of the man and myth himself)
So him being able to face off against a high elf elder mage and hold his own shouldn't be a massive shock to any of you.
Comments
Hakkira
Thank you kindly for the chapter 😁
StarlightGhoul
Muahahaha thanks for the chapters! They have been an extreme joy to read. Keep up the good work! I look forward to the shiny-moldyballs coalition getting stomped out of nirn.
