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Arc 6 Chapter XX: Fall of Falkreath (Part 2)
🕑 Added 2024-01-26 18:09:56 +0000 UTCAlternate title: Theatrics two electric bugaloo.
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(Reyvin's POV)
I was practically in a trance as I danced through the ranks of the increasingly panicking rebels, dozens of them falling to my blades every minute as I stepped forward at a pace that could almost be described as leisurely, only ever getting slowed down when I came face to face with one of the Stormcloaks' more elite warriors but even they did not manage to slow me long enough to make a difference.
The legionaries behind me kept formation well enough, as Tullius had made sure to send in his Cyrodiilic veterans with me. The local recruits were tough and well trained but the experienced soldiers had already seen what a powerful mage could do in a battle while uncontested so they were far less likely to panic when they saw me reap through the enemy ranks like they were so much dry grass.
Whoever managed to step out of my way or was lucky enough to not be positioned in my path in the first place swiftly got cut down by the men following me, the slaughter slowing down only when I slowed down for the legionaries to switch ranks so that the frontline could rest.
About an hour into the leisurely stroll, or slaughter depending on which side you were on, I cut down the final group of lamellar bound men barring my path to the city square and the Jarl's keep, my eyes immediately landing on the rebel Jarl Dengeir of Stuhn and his retinue, and the multiple streets leading into the square with what must have been a thousand rebels.
Though most of those were seemingly fresh recruits.
"You will go no further elf!" Dengeir steps out bravely, though I notice a slight shake in his step.
"And who will stop me?" I ask, channeling my potent aura of terror as the freshest legionaries gather behind me, all of them looking almost insultingly clean for the slaughter we just caused.
The image had the intended effect as I swiftly noticed many of the rebel recruits hesitating or looking at each other with doubt in their eyes.
Before Dengeir could attempt to rally his men I took one step forward, and nearly laughed as hundreds of men took an instinctive step back "I have a proposition for you all."
A silence descends upon the battlefield as my words are heard by all, and just as expected Dengeir answers, it was after all honorable to hear your opponent out "And what is this proposition? That we surrender and become slaves to the Empire once again?"
"Nothing so basic" I chuckle and take unnecessary amount of pleasure in how shaky the Jarl becomes with each of my words "I will offer you all a challenge!" I declare while spreading my arms invitingly "Call forth your strongest champions and have them face me in combat, and should you win I will call for a retreat and leave the battlefield, but should you lose I will have your immediate and unconditional surrender."
Dengeir's brow furrows at my generous offer "And what if we do not accept your 'generous' offer?" He asks, practically gifting me with the victory.
"If you do not then I will stop holding back and use the voice to burn this entire city to the ground." I say gravely, and by the paleness of the many young men and women in the enemy ranks I knew they believed me "I grow sick and tired of killing little boys better suited for tilling soil than wielding weapons, so will you oh great warriors of Ulfric step forth and fight? Or will you hide behind the bodies of those you swore to protect?"
And just as a finishing touch I add "You have a minute to give me your answer."
"You are just buying time!" Dengeir snarls "You have been fighting through the entire city already, what is to stop us from slaying you now that you are tired?"
A deep, rumbling chuckle shakes the very air as I metaphorically look down at the tall Nord "I have not spent a single drop of Magicka since I have entered the city." And just to make my point I let it all out, coating the nearby buildings with my visible aura and oddly enough causing the weed around some of the houses to grow by a tiny bit.
The old Jarl grits his teeth but shuts up and starts talking with his advisors.
A nearby legionary officer steps next to me, Tiberius having been relieved halfway through the fight to recharge, and whispers "Sir, should we not just storm the keep and be done with it? Isn't fighting them yourself too much of a risk?"
With a barely perceptible shrug I whisper back "If any of them manages to kill me then we already have a far greater problem than expected, and if I do defeat them... honorably" My mouth twists at the word with some disgust "The ones that surrender will be far less likely to make problems later, now get back to the ranks and tell them to look confident."
The man nods and quickly moves away, the word of my command spreading swiftly.
Seconds tick by as the rebels are stuck in furious debate, and just as the timer ends and I lift my burning hand one of them steps out, much to the protest of his comarades and raises his sword, tip pointed at me "I will face you, Flame-tongue!"
"Very well" I nod at him approvingly, my voice lacking most of its previous menace.
I step forward, my stance relaxed and my movement lacking any aggression. Even the Jarl grows silent as we start circling each other, the rebel warrior growing more unnerved by the moment as my completely silent steps fall onto the cobbled ground.
With an emboldening battle cry he charges at me shield first, but instead of striking anything he feels only empty air as I pivot on my right foot, completely stepping out of the shield's way and delivering a swift counter attack with my sword right into his neck.
Needless to say he died immediately.
"Four." I say ominously and turn back to the Stormcloak leadership, the feeling of fear and panic among the enemy troops slowly turning into dreadful realization.
Another brave Stormcloak steps out, this one wielding a warhammer and insultingly little armor. He died without even being able to take a swing.
"Three" I state lazily, rolling my r-s.
A shieldmaiden comes at me next, another sword wielder this time and to my surprise she manages to hold me back for three entire exchanges with rapid reflexes and seemingly supernatural instincts.
That did not stop my dagger from suddenly sinking into her unarmored armpit when she made a tiny misstep however.
"Two." I say without even turning back to the now utterly terrified fools.
A moment passes but then my mind's eye shows me a man dressed in full Nordic steel plate wielding a greatsword as tall as himself. This was the local Stormcloak commander, the so called Sun-Killer who ironically shared a name with the current High King.
"Come on then dragonslayer" He points his sword at me while holding it one handed "I will have my final battle be worthy of song."
"Oh?" I turn to him with a sudden curiosity "You expect to lose and still step forward?" I ask, this time without a hint of mockery.
He snorts "I like to think of myself as a smart man."
"Says the Stormcloak" I can't help but snark back.
The surprisingly chill warrior simply shrugs in response "Time will tell who was right and who was not."
"Admirably put, but you still avoid the point." I too now point my sword at him "But enough words, come and fight me." I cannot allow him to give his buddies too much time to calm down so to Sovengarde he goes.
He nods and grips his blade, and without any further preamble sends out a rapid jab at my core.
I naturally dodge immediately but the man almost surprises me by swiftly repositioning and turning the jab into a swing.
Too bad for him I am a filthy cheater that should be permanently banned from warfare.
I rapidly stomp the ground with my right foot and find myself airborne before he can even blink, the great blade passing harmlessly beneath my feet.
Before he can reorient I twist around myself and deliver a rapid kick to his shoulder, lightly denting the armor and sending him sprawling back, though still standing.
"You are stronger than you look, elf." He praises, and I sense a battle hungry smile behind his helmet.
"And your arm is still intact." I praise back and immediately attack him with an overhead sword swing.
He steps into it and uses his armored (and wounded) shoulder to bash my sword hand aside, earning himself another bone crack, and twists with surprising agility, flipping his sword over and going in for a close range murder stroke.
A rather unfortunate mistake for his part as I flood my flesh with Magicka, turning it partially into ebony and grab his weapon, wrenching it away and purposefully throwing it back at the Jarl's keep and ruining the door, though I made sure it looked like an accident.
Deciding to spare the surprisingly tough motherfucker I unsummon my weapons and proceed to wail upon the still fighting Stormcloak leader, denting his armor in multiple places by the sheer force of my punches and swiftly bringing him to unconsciousness with a blow to the head.
And then, completely ignoring my opponent's falling body I turn back to Jarl Dengeir "And then there was one."
Before the old fart could even retort his shaky hands managed to drop his mace onto the ground, signaling his surrender for all to see. Soon all of the rebels were dropping their arms while the freshly reinforced legionaries were spreading around and swiftly bringing the situation into order.
'Fucking coward.' I cursed the still shaking Jarl in my mind.
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"-And so I have decided that the defeated Jarl's nephew Siddgeir will be the one to take over his seat as he had shown his loyalty to the empire on multiple occasions." Tullius drones emotionlessly while staring at the pair of uncle and nephew.
The only reason Siddgeir was being chosen was that he had built a surprising amount of connections while he was getting educated in the Imperial City, a bunch of nobles were vouching for him and Tullius had neither the cloud to waste nor the nerves to try and go around their decision.
Something I had no issues with.
*SLURP* The eyes of all those present snap to me as I loudly slurp down my freshly made cup of coffee. The image of a Dunmer sitting on the Jarl's throne, slouched and half-asleep, drinking a beverage imported from what was these days a foreign nation created quite the contrast with a bunch of officials making declarations at each other while standing.
As to why I was sitting on the throne?
Well, simply put, who was going to tell me otherwise?
"A thought occurs." I tilt my head, making me seem even more uncaring "Why should a family that had already shown their willingness to rebel be allowed anywhere near the position of Jarl? Or Duke for our Cyrodiilic friends present." I give the Imperial dignitaries a shallow nod which they shakily return.
Seeing through my intentions with surprising alacrity Tullius explains "Because Dengeir has already surrendered and accepted his fate of spending the rest of his days in house arrest and Siddgeir has sworn to do his best to aid the war effort and serve the Emepror after the conflict has been won."
I nod at the General and look at Siddgeir, a rather young Nord that seemed to be built far more for Cyrodiil's politics than Skyrim's rough bluster "I trust that the General's belief in you is not misplaced, Lord Siddgeir?"
The paling Nord nods rapidly "Of course, Court Mage. I will do my best as to make sure the hold continues serving the Empire and prospering under its just rule."
"Make sure you do." I say with a lazy drawl "It would be a damn shame if I learned something untoward was happening when I came to check in on your progress."
His ambitions of laziness and corruption thoroughly cowed by my words Siddgeir was promptly saddled with the title of Jarl and a massive requisition order (Read: war reparations)
The forced enthusiasm he tried to display was very entertaining to observe.
Ah, it was fun playing the bad cop from time to time!
"What will you do now, Court Mage?" Tullius asks me as we leave the building, stepping out onto the freshly cleaned city square bustling with Stormcloaks giving up their weapons and armor to the strict looking legionary quartermasters.
"Back to Winterhold and then probably off to investigate whatever Daedric threat decides to rear its ugly head next." I answer flippantly.
He nods a couple of times, more to himself than me, before finally speaking again "I have heard some rumors about the Temple of Meridia near Solitude." He looks at me with a mix of curiosity and caution "Is there any credence to the rumors of you defeating a Prince?"
I give him my sunniest smile while lazily twirling my sword around "I am certain I have no idea what you are talking about General."
I leave the frustrated man behind without another word and go to find my vampire sidekick.
It was time to go home.
Comments
Bonobo
Thanks for the chapter, loved it!
Dave
TFTC!
