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Arc 8 Chapter CXXIV: The Declaration
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 22:21:36 +0000 UTCAn: Before some of you get annoyed at the point of view, just let me cook.
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(General POV)
An annoyed Thalmor Justiciar glared at the quartet of Altmer before her, her arms crossed and her foot tapping the floor "Explain yourselves."
Three of the well appointed elves fidgeted in fear, while the one to their fore cleared his throat, unbothered by the death stare "We managed to retrieve critical information that I felt justified our immediate extraction."
"Yes" The woman drawled "The critical information that the Empire is preparing for war."
"That is correct" The ambassador managed to sound both condescending and agreeable at the same time "Their legions have been gathering from all the pacified provinces, which meant they will not waste time in declaring war."
The Justiciar began massaging the sides of her head "It is too early in the morning to deal with this" She muttered and waved for them to pass "Go inside, the High Justiciars will decide on what to do with you."
"You have our thanks, madam" The lead ambassador offered a short bow and walked past her without waiting for her annoyed response.
The guards standing watch to the sides of the grand golden gates of Alinor's palace merely wrote something down as they passed them by, closing the way behind them as the Justiciar outside began intimidating yet another delegation.
"By the gods Gavaril" One of the still shivering elves whispered "I felt like the madwoman was about to incinerate the lot of us."
"Peace, Arthal" The lead elf failed to keep his chest from puffing out "After standing in front of those two monsters in the Imperial City, the uppity peasant could never scare me."
The scared elf nodded rapidly "We are lucky you were with us, the three of us would have probably been strung up as an example."
"Fear not, friend." The leader smiled "So long as you follow my lead, no one will be able to touch you."
Arthal smiled before awkwardly shuffling on his feet "Say, Gavaril."
"Hm?" The still smiling leader hummed.
"Do you know where the restrooms are?" His new subordinate whispered "I don't want to shame myself later."
Gavaril's face twitched in disgust, but only for a moment "Go and deal with it, the three of us will cover for you." The other two looked miffed by the decision but did not protest.
"Thank you" Arthal let out a relieved sigh and bowed.
And promptly marched away.
The instant he left his 'friends'' sight his entire posture shifted, going from submissive and all around pathetic to firm and proud, his eyes sharp and his entire presence announcing that he belonged where he tread.
He passed by two whispering Thalmor, the duo merely acknowledging tha they saw him before returning to their plotting.
Arthal saw a lone Justiciar rounding the corner and immediately sidestepped next to a nearby pillar.
The Altmer mage did not even manage a yelp as he was dragged to the side, a quiet crack following soon after joined by a thump but a moment later.
'Arthal' shut the window to the garden maze closed and finished buckling his new robes, the gaudy and imposing attire perfect for his intentions as he pulled the hood over his face and once more began stalking the halls of Alinor's palace.
Ten more minutes of snooping soon revealed what he wanted to know as he listened in to a conversation of two Thalmor lovers.
The duo spoke in hushed tones as the woman asked "Why did they let you out so soon?"
"Another recess" The man scoffed just as quietly "They are lambasting Lord Finarfin about his 'failings' in Skyrim but everyone knows it will not go anywhere. Like they could have touched a demigod and a group of ancient archmagi if they were in his place."
"There there" The woman giggled as she patted his head "We all know he will win in the end."
"Yeah" He sighed "I just find all this politicking to be a waste of time. We should be bringing the fight to the imperial tyrants and not battling each other for every scrap of influence!"
"Hush" She placed a finger over his lips "You know I love it when you get passionate but this is neither the time or the place."
The man went to respond before visibly holding himself back and sighing "You are probably right. I need to return to Lady Ysalin and help her with the Pyandonean treaty in a few minutes anyway." He smiled wistfully "Merely being a part of such work is an honor."
"Go and win glory my love" The woman booped his nose "We will meet in the evening."
The two shared another minute of diabetic level sweet talk before the man finally managed to disentangle himself and marched off.
Followed closely by a figure he could not see 'Ysalin, eh?'
The male lover marched over to a tower at the palace's western edge, the two armored warriors guarding the way letting him through after a quick salute.
As they closed the door behind him they both blinked, giving each other a quick look and casting some detection magic only for the results to come back blank "Must have been the wind." The one to the left muttered.
"The wind" His colleague scoffed "Or we really shouldn't have spent all our pay at Alandra's."
They stared at each other for a moment before firmly nodding ""Worth it.""
Arthal felt amused as he secured the bottle of invisible poison to his belt, happy that his suicidal maneuver was not discovered. He marched up the tower's stairwell like he owned the place and soon found himself looking over a small meeting consisting of four Altmer and an odd blue elf.
'So that is a Maormer?' He quirked an eyebrow but only for a moment, the mission's importance reasserting itself as he began closing in on the group.
"Re-read it all again, Ambassador." The High Justiciar Ysalin tapped a large document unfurled between them, written in both Tamrielic and Pyandonean "We cannot afford misunderstandings and confusion at this juncture."
"Agreed." The blue elf spoke in an odd but legible accent "We have but an hour to present a united front or both our tasks will become more difficult."
"Quite." The old Altmer lady nodded "Does King Norevalion plan to attend the war council once we have succeeded?"
"He is currently content to remain in Shimmerene with his sworn friend." The Maormer answered simply "As soon as you have dealt with your internal issues we will move on as agreed."
Satisfied with all the information he had, Arthal decided to act, his hands flashing out with four throwing daggers each, and hitting the unsuspecting elves before they could so much as blink.
Well, most of them at least, as the High Justiciar instinctively activated her wards and blocked the poisoned projectiles an inch before they could pierce her throat.
Sadly for the veteran Thalmor, that was all the distraction Arthal needed as he used the moment to leap over the table and the still dying elves, and leveraged all of his body weight to slam a jagged dagger straight through the potent ward, stabbing the Altmer through the side of her head and killing her instantly.
The Altmer man he followed inside groaned in pain as he rolled over on the floor, doing his best to stand up.
'Poor fool should have played dead.' Arthal mused as he stabbed him to death 'Not that it would have saved him.'
Thus satisfied, he began rummaging through all the documents he could see, rapidly copying everything from troop positions, plan proposals, and economic policy, down on the orb hidden within one of his belt bags.
He then, with just a tad too much glee in his heart, incinerated the Pyandonean treaty.
'That should buy a few weeks.' He nodded to himself and with no further hesitation opened a nearby window and stepped out of the tower, immediately following the information he gathered so far to the next High Justiciar on his list.
Their protections were good, extremely good even, but sadly for them they did not expect someone of his caliber to simply ignore them through the power of his patron, the sanctum of the Thalmor movement too relaxed and assured of its safety to even dare imagine something like him happening to them.
And so Arthal got to work, breaking into towers, slaying guards and officials as he went, before ultimately ending his true targets. Before the hour was out, four High Justiciars lay dead, alongside their most trusted retinues, and the elf that was Arthal found himself wealthy with information.
But all good things must come to an end, and so as he messily disemboweled a particularly powerful mage that managed to resist his personalized shadowscale manaburn poison, he realized he had already wasted far too much time.
He would still need to make an attempt at the secondary target.
Arthal rapidly transferred all the information he gathered through his orb and promptly crushed it to pieces, the magic within ensuring the trace would never be followed.
Nodding in satisfaction, he once more stepped out of a nearby window and shed all pretense of subtlety as he began to move, leaping and rolling across the palace's battlements and killing anyone who had the chance to notice him.
A few extra murders later, he found himself within a passage that perfectly overlooked the great council chamber, within which a number of irritable Altmer stood waiting, the secondary target himself visibly holding himself back from outright seething as his previously inevitable coronation seemed to grow increasingly difficult by the minute.
Arthal began humming a song from his childhood as he retrieved a box from his belt, opening it to reveal a complex gathering of masterfully carved wooden parts and metal springs.
A small commotion began spreading beneath him as he finished attaching the bow to the frame of his crossbow, the immensely powerful enchanted bolt sliding perfectly into the groove as he finished his tune.
The Altmer woman he recognized as the lover of the boy he killed rushed into the chamber, screaming her heart out "Alarm! Assassin in the palace."
Just as all eyes instinctively followed the source of the noise, Arthal lightly squeezed the trigger mechanism of his weapon, the bolt whizzing through the air with nary a sound.
Unfortunately, Finarfin was expecting something like this, the High Justiciar empowering his body with ebonflesh and kicking the massive gold embossed table below him in the projectile's path, detonating the bolt in a conflagration of crimson lightning before containing all of it within a powerful ward of his own making.
'Secondary target failed.' Arthal noted detachedly 'Tertiary objective: escape'
He activated the crossbow's secondary enchantment, making it disintegrate as he stood up and rushed to the side, just in time to avoid an explosion of force that would have pulverized him, body and soul.
Five heavily armored Justiciars clutched at their throats as he passed them by, the poison now in their blood causing their Magika to catastrophically detonate and take the following two squads behind them.
He weaved past yet more Altmer civilians, killing all of them because they might be useful to the enemy as he kept evading and murdering patrols whenever he could.
But he knew in his heart, that escape was never going to happen, not even with the favor of his lord and lady coursing through his veins.
He stabbed the throat of a brave young mage, and just as he lay the body down he felt his instincts screaming at him, causing him to leap away but too late as his legs were torn off his body and he was slammed into a nearby wall with enough force to break his reinforced spine.
He looked up to see the secondary target prowling over to him with pure hatred in his eyes, the malignant mace of the previous Overlord brimming with power within his grip as two powerful Dremora warriors flanked him on both sides.
The High Justiciar went to say something, probably some kind of threat or promise of torment as his ilk were often want to do.
A perfect chance for what his lord would no doubt declare 'one final fuck you!'
Finarfin barely managed to evade the cursed needle the assassin spat at him with no warning whatsoever, the silverine weapon cutting across the side of his face and rotting the skin off fully before he managed to dispell it.
Knowing his act of spite would be naught but an inconvenience, Jackal still allowed himself a satisfied smirk, as he activated his lord's blessing, and spitefully turned himself to ash.
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Reyvin's face twitched as he frowned at something no one else could see, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater of Whiterun giving him a curious look as he asked "What happened."
"Nothing" Reyvin shook his head, voice clipped "The time has come."
The other officers within the command tent all stood up straighter, anticipation clear in their eyes as the Hortator lay his Orb™ atop the map of Valenwood they were studying but a few minutes prior.
Just as he did so a floating image of the Emperor in full armor flickered into existence above it.
All around Cyrodiil and beyond, such a scene repeated itself.
High King Torygg stood atop a balcony in Castle Dour, Skyrim's third legion diligently training below him as his Court Mage brought up the wondrous communication device before him.
King Uthred of Evermor smiled as the King of Wayrest finally bowed to his authority before his cousin brought his attention to the artifact.
The Great Lords of Morrowind all sat within Mournhold's palace, the Falmer mage in front of them holding the item of their attention.
Minthara Septim sat atop Odahviing, the air around her parting as if merely attempting to impede her flight would be a serious crime. She felt a flicker of magic, and listened to her adoptive parents words.
"There once was a dream, dreamt by a man." Titus Mede II spoke, his voice a mix of sorrow and determination "In his dream, he saw all of Tamriel united as one, all of its peoples living in harmony and contentment with each other, and thriving as they never have before."
"And he succeeded in this dream." Titus looked up at all of them "For centuries, Tamriel grew and prospered, threats were removed before they could appear, and peace was held through law and order." His face grew grim "Sadly, Talos' dream died with his family, as all dynasties inevitably do, to dissent, corruption, and the meddling of Daedra."
A dark smile overtook his expression "Or so many would wish to believe."
She felt now as if he was looking directly at her "But the dream is not over!" He declared firmly "It is not over until one of us who still holds it within their heart dares to dream of it!"
"The Thalmor, and their Third Dominion would have seen it die thirty years past. They would return us to the time of slavery and suffering just to satisfy their petty egos and delusions of grandeur." Titus grasped the handle of his sword "They were shown once that no amount of treachery will see the dream snuffed out! Their ambitions brought low through the sacrifice of countless heroes and dreamers!"
In a fluid motion, he held Goldbrand up, the legendary blade blazing in golden glory "They thought us cowed and destroyed! They thought us weak and frail, the fools! The Septim blood flows still in the heart of our Empire, and new heroes have risen to see the dream come true!"
"Let this be the final war of this era! Let Tamriel stand united once again! And let peace and order return to these ravaged lands once and for all!" The glow of the blade began suffusing the Emperor and his presence grew even through the projection "And to all those who would stand in the way of our dream" He boomed "Kill them all, and let the Gods sort them out."
Comments
Hakkira
Thank you kindly for the chapter 😁 For the Empire 🤩
Greatest Ever
RIP Jackal. Loyal til the end😭
