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Arc 7 Chapter LXXVII: Introductons And Deductions
🕑 Added 2024-08-13 02:05:04 +0000 UTCA/n: Not terribly exciting I know, but I gotta build up to the fight somehow :P
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(General POV)
"-Why insist on tiring yourself unnecessarily?" Tullius attempts to convince his secret superior to get a horse for the third time since they left the city.
Minthara grumbles some rather unkind words to herself, thankfully having the presence of mind to keep them as quiet as possible, and looks up to the mounted General "And I've already told you that I dislike riding." She points out after a short stare of annoyance "Besides, we won't be able to outspeed the troops anyway so it isn't like I am being obtuse here."
"I can understand that bu-" Tullius begins what he would consider sharing advice and most others a lecture.
"But nothing." Minthara cuts him off "Do call me if there is anything actually pertinent to discuss." She practically commands him and speeds up, not quite running but still moving far faster than before, and catches up with a group of mounted Bretons, a rather small contingent of knights who felt they were yet to prove themselves in battle and were more than eager to answer the questions of a child of Akatosh.
"General." Tiberius salutes as he rides up to the older Imperial "I see you continue to try and coddle the gods' chosen." His suspicions were growing ever since the battle of Windhelm and Reyvin's behavior earlier that day all but confirmed them, now all that was left was to rip off the particular bandage so that he may retain his peace of mind in the upcoming fight.
Tullius' flat look almost made him sputter out apologies but he held himself back as the General spoke "Someone of her stature walking while we ride is nothing short of shameful."
Tiberius considers the words briefly, a dangerous look passing over his face briefly before returning to a neutral one "She is a Nord, sir. You should understand by now that they care far too little about such petty things as propriety."
Tullius lets out a vaguely agreeable noise but says nothing.
They continue riding in silence for a while yet, observing the demigod in question as she kept peppering the armored riders with questions about their homeland, until finally Tiberius spoke "Sir, with all due respect what exactly is going on here?" He asks, a sudden tension in the air "Are you planning on installing the Dragonborn on he throne?" There was a certain threat in his tone but not quite as blatant as outright preparing to summon his servants yet.
Tullius, completely uncaring about the unspoken threat of his much more combat capable subordinate, gives him an amused look "Let us say that if I hypothetically did want that, what would you do about it?"
A bit thrown off by the relaxed question, it took Tiberius a moment to answer "I would do my duty as an officer of the Legion and a man of the Empire." His reply was hesitant but quite certain.
The General allows himself a smirk "Good."
"...That's it?" Tiberius blinks and stutters "Seriously?"
"You forget yourself Battlemage." Tullius' amusement grows.
The man gathers himself post haste and salutes "Apologies sir."
"It is quite alright soldier." The General chuckles softly "After all, I can't help but be proud of your loyalty and discipline." He pauses for dramatic purposes even if he would never admit to doing so "Your worries are unfounded though, seeing as His Imperial Majesty has already ensured none but the rightful ruler will inherit his position."
Tiberius blinks in surprise, staring agape at the older man, before turning forward and letting out a boisterous bout of laughter "Ah, I see!" He laughs again and doesn't comment further, his mind far too busy with the endless possibilities of the Empire's revival rushing through it, his imagination working at full force as he for the first time in a while permitted himself to dream instead of merely delude.
Sadly, his new revelry could only last for so long as a rider decided now was the time to interrupt them "General!" The Altmer legionary calls out "Sir" He salutes as he rides up to them "I bring a report from the scouts."
"Speak then soldier, what are we facing?" Tullius asks immediately.
"Yes, I am quite curious what the idiots managed to gather as well." Tiberius nearly jumps out of his saddle as the voice of the Dragonborn comes from beside their mounts, the woman having appeared without making the tiniest sound.
The scout gives Tullius a questioning glance, earning a nod in turn, and begins relaying the relevant information.
By the time he was done all Tiberius could do was lament on how he would have to overdose on potions again. He still hated the damnable feeling with a passion and his stomach agreed as it began twisting at the mere thought.
'The things I do for this Empire...' He grumbled, even as his divinely appointed ruler gave him a look of amusement.
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They set up camp within a small clearing within one of the more dense clusters of forest north of Kynesgrove itself. The mining settlement loomed over them atop its hilly foundation, its weathered palisades kept firmly in their usual state of disrepair.
"Well, at least we won't have to deal with reinforced walls." Tiberius allows himself a relaxed quip.
"That just means they prepared something else." Minthara shakes her head, earning a nod from Tullius "I refuse to believe that whoever called them here just let them do whatever for days."
"The scouts only managed to get eyes on their numbers and positions." Tullius ponders aloud "There is no real way for us to know just what they are actually doing in preparation... It could be that they are just worshiping whatever is atop that hill but I doubt that whoever leads this cult is quite that foolish."
A flash of gold draws all of their eyes as a familiar bird descends and lands atop Minthara's head, the demigoddess barely twitching as the unnaturally sharp claws grabbed onto her head without doing any damage whatsoever "They're cooking." The bird voices.
The two Imperials stare at him for a moment before Tullius reminds himself that this was Reyvin's familiar they were talking with "Cooking what?"
"Dunno?" The fiery hawk's wing joints shift in the facsimile of a shrug "Smells like some kind of potion but I can't quite put my wingbone on it. All I can say is that they are cooking a fair bit of it."
"Could it be some kind of thrown weapon?" Minthara ponders aloud, still uncaring for the weight on her head "Reyvin did mention that large amounts of explosive potion could be used instead of spells in a pinch."
"Eh" Scorch shrugs his shoulders again "Smelled more like those funky berserker mushrooms you featherless degenerates like to use sometimes."
The trio turn completely silent as they hear him say that, the implications rather obvious to all of them. But before they can begin questioning him a familiar tingle of magic in the air warns them a split second before the air to their left cracks and a pair of magi teleport to their location.
(Reyvin's POV)
"Told you we would arrive in time." I grin at the illusion covered lich.
"That wasn't my point and you know it." Phineas grouses and looks to our 'hosts' "The hell are you gawking at?"
"Master Phineas." Minthara blinks in surprise "What are you doing here?"
The two Imperials beside her give her confused looks at the question, not quite understanding the trepidation in her voice.
"Needed the brats help in a ritual." He twitches his head in my direction "This is the price."
"Yeah, I can understand that much bu-" Minthara mutters quietly.
Too quietly apparently as Tiberius doesn't notice her speaking "Long time no see Master, happy to have you here." He waves at the lich.
"Ah, the obsessive brat." Phineas actually smiles a bit "Throwing your life away as a peon are you?"
Tiberius' expression sours a bit and his smile turns to fond exasperation.
Tullius finally finishes his little inspection and speaks "Conjuration Master Phineas Gestor?" He asks rather redundantly "Would you care to tell us why you hide under an illusion?"
"What?" The lich's voice turns flat.
Tullius raises his hand, a ring of illusion resistance, one of my own making, glowing on one of his fingers.
"I don't think you want the answer to that question/Sir you really should leave this be." Minthara and Tiberius speak at the same time, both of them looking far too worried about the situation.
Tullius looks at them briefly, shakes his head and turns back to Phineas "Well?"
The lich gives me an accusatory look "Do you really need to sell noble heirloom class artifacts to every single cunt that asks?"
"It was a gift" I shrug and smirk "I don't think he would have accepted paying a full year's budget of his entire legion for it otherwise."
Minthara looks just about ready to intervene but I preempt her "There are no guards watching us."
Phineas acts out a blink and nods "Fine" And snaps his fingers, his form shifting from a somewhat diminutive Breton into the regal skeleton he now was. He levitates a bit above ground and offers the deeply concerned General a flamboyant bow "Master Necromancer and Archlich, Phineas Gestor. At your service." Every single syllable is underlined by a creepy echo, the lich's amusement with the situation almost palpable.
Tullius' hand immediately goes for his sword but he holds himself back from immediately drawing it. Ignoring Minthara's and Tiberius' sputtering explanations he turns his thunderous gaze to me "Dagoth. Explain."
I raise an eyebrow "How nice it is to be respectful only when it suits you."
Minthara gives him a considering look at my words.
"Cease your games, Court Mage." The General grinds out "I need an explanation."
"We are going against dragons." I begin simply "That means we will need chaff."
"Chaff?" Tiberius blinks, his expression shifting into one of realization a moment later.
Tullius too seems taken by the idea, his hand now resting on his chin in consideration.
"Um..." Minthara raises a hand "Care to enlighten me?"
"Meat shields Minthara." I deadpan at her "Why throw elites to distract the dragons if you can throw the corpses of your enemies."
She thinks on it for a moment before nodding happily, completely uncaring for the ethical implications if it allowed her to butcher her targets more easily.
Good.
"I can see how the idea might work." Tullius allows after a moment "The troops will not like it though."
"Let them dislike as they wish" Phineas cuts him off "They will be more than happy to survive due to my help anyways."
"They still might try and kill you, even if you help us." Tullius points out.
"Boy I am a lich." Phineas deadpans "Even if they did cut me down, all it would do is send me home faster."
The good General looks somewhat taken aback at being referred to a boy but still nods.
Scorch's eyes meet my own 'Just imagine his reaction if he knew we were twice his age.'
I barely hold myself back from laughing my ass of then and there.
Instead I decide to distract myself by speaking "Look at it this way Tullius, the enemy is someone who consciously chose to follow the World Eater. A necromantic raising is the least punishment they deserve."
Minthara's eyes take on a new gleam at that, her previous readiness turning into outright cruel giddiness as it sunk in just how utter the betrayal of our enemy was.
"Fine." Tullius finally allows "It isn't like I can wait for any replacements and the enemy is fortified atop a hill. I will take all the help I can."
"We are done with the posturing then?" Phineas snaps his fingers, one more covering himself in his usual illusion "How nice."
Tullius ignores him and turns to me "Your bird told us of the enemy preparing some kind of potion, can you take a closer look?"
"Sure thing." I nod absently and sit my ass down.
A moment later I permit my essence to leave my body but keep it just under the skin so as to not have to answer any questions. My third eye burns into existence and the entire battlefield becomes known to me.
Thousands upon thousands of men and women, all of them radiating desperation and newfound zeal gather atop the old hill, the mines surrounding it filled to the brim with cots and bedrolls as they crammed as many people as possible in the relatively small area.
Cauldrons of half-finished potion formulae bubbled atop numerous campfires, the mixture within a rather obvious potion of berserk strength mixed with something I did not quite recognize.
A sound tactic when wielding a bunch of peasants, that much I could admit.
But what drew my attention was not the thousands of desperate idiots nor the surprising surplus of weapons being stacked up by the Draugr smiths hiding deep within the iron mines.
No, what drew my attention were the trio of figures praying in front of Sahlokniir's burial mound. A trio of Dragon Priests in fact.
Raghot the Poisoner.
Hevnoraak the Resurrected.
And Ottar the Mad.
Well now... At least things won't be boring.
'They are totally scheming something.' Scorch points out.
'Yep, and we are going to walk straight in.'
'Fuck yeah.'
Comments
StarlightGhoul
Wooooooooooo more masks!!!!! Thanks for the chapter!
Speide Hardy
Thanks for the chapter
