Chapter Text
Sun's Rising.
The city of Dawnstar houses made mostly of hay and wood are falling down, consumed by flames. Indeed fire is burning on its walls made mostly of wood and some large rocky parts that climb back all the way to the hill where the Tower of Dawn is now burning. Dawnstar takes its name from this ancient fort.
Right under it, the Jarl's hall walls crackle and fall, then the multiple stories roof , falls crumblying into it. Those outside barely manage to escape with their lives. Dust and smoke coming after prevent us to understand more.
A hooded figure with a rich tunic made of purple red and a simple red cape dancing on their back for the wind, a silver dagger clanging on their left, stamp his sturdy but simple brown boots inside the Main entrance tower walkway.
He's throwing fire balls to the city and yelling.
Citizens and guards, charcoal stripes on their clothes and faces, are filling buckets in the sea of Ghosts and running up and down the hill to throw it to their houses.
“Damned Sithis and its grunts.”From outside of the city, next to the stables, a female Orsimer, circa 6 feet with small tusks from her mouth, short black hair and dark grey skin raises her leather helmet with the Imperial Pennant on the forehead: a metal stylised golden Dragon with open wings on purple red and scratches her nape. Her left hand throw in air and catches going on to throw it again, an Imperial sword from the sword's grip. A guard wearing a grey surcoat with a stilysed shield on its centre, just sink his head on the snow to put out a fire burning his metal helmet.
The Orsimer whispers, a tone between ironic and exasperated: “Belrand, you’re our sergeant, do something!” Next to her, a bold guy with cunning amber eyes and a pointed broad chin of Colovian origin todsy simply Imperial, several inches lower than her, wearing a red surcoat with the pennant of a Wolf on its center and a chainmail underneath, is shaking his head: “Oi, what do you want me to do, Thogra??” he sighs “He destroyed the already dead cult of Vermina and burned the keep at the top of the hill where it resided without sweating and now he's burning Dawnstar first era or what was left of it” He growls “after he did the same to its Jarl's hall with the Jarl inside..” he blinks: “I am still debating if our lad was wrong in any of those cases, though, mate.” He shrugs and turns his head to a blue furred khajit or cat man who's honing his arrows made of green glass material.”what do you think of this, my mate, Inigo?”
The khajit blinks: “What do I think, my friend Belrand?” he takes off his pipe from his mouth, his ears moving in opposite sides, scratching his brown leather armour and exhaling smoke:”He won't stop until the dark brotherhood is gone from this country, kingdom, whatever in Oblivion this hold is, as well. You remember that we had to anaesthetise him to leave Falkreath or he'd have killed the jarl, right? ” H sighs: "no, wait. He killed him.
“We can't let him destroy a city, Inigo!”The Orsimer and the Imperial yell in unison, nodding.
“You clearly forgot it, Thogra”The blue fur cat heaves a sigh: “Commander Maro corpse hanging dead from a lamppost in the village outside Solitude famous just for a bridge?” He grumps, his arms crosses on his chest, looking his naked feet “Harry has lost it.”
A cough is heard and from a window from the next cart a dark rasping voice and a hand with serpent scales: “What iSs done iSs done, private.” he hesitates: “Sergeant Belrand, appease your charge .” He hesitates a second as Belrand goes to the cart and continues: “We'll connect the hold with what'Ss left of Winterhold after the “event” " He coughs, his hand retires in the cart than pops up again, now showing a scroll “Indeed, after the takeover, the new jarl's for both cities, will be Brina MeriliSs. Take her and your new contuberno in Winterhold, sergeant Belrand. Update your contuberno with men from our close military camp. ” Belrand blinks, then nod walking slowly to the cart. “As you command, Chancellor”He grabs a scroll and stand saluting.
The white strong war horses push the cart wit the Chancellor in the snow. There is no carriage driver leading it.
On the walkway of the main tower, the hood falls on the shoulder of the person throwing balls of fire.“Damned bastards, you knew and shut up. You” and swallow, rasping. He's Harold.
He is a young man in his twenties, muscular Nibenese extraction, with pointed face traits of a typical Colovian and a purple warpaint on his left cheekbone, scratching his long purple goatee. He's called an Imperial today.
He points again his big, grey eyes at the city of Dawnstar under his feet.”You harboured abominations of any kind and also...”His voice breaks. The copper pot on his head clanks as his hands move next to it, enveloping in fire to shoot again.
“My son!”From the city runs a old man with dark grey skin and red eyes runs toward the walls and stops underneath the tower were Harold is. He's a Dunmer with a salt and pepper ponytail, wearing a yellow tunic and simple sturdy boots. In the centre of his tunic the stylised cross with complicated marquetry on its arms and a clear face on the centre “My son Harold, for the love of Mara what are you doing?” Harald blinks at him for a second, yells: “They killed my father, Erandur. Those Sithis brotherhood's abominations killed my father.”
“Please, young Mede”The Dunmer swallows, climbing the stairs: ”Remember what Unwyanque, your Honourable Harmonious Master would say.” He finds Harald's eyes and start saying: “Blessed be the name of Stendarr, the God of Mercy.” Harald gasps and turns his head, his voice hesitates than he speaks after the Dunmer. Inigo, the Orsimer and the imperial hesitantly move closer.
Erandur and Harald pray “He strengthens and unifies his Resolutes through his wisdom and blessings.” Harald blinks, still gasping but praying with Erandur. The Old Dunmer keeps going: “He calls us by day to train with sword and shield to strengthen our might; and by night to pray in his name to strengthen our souls.” Eventually Harald's hands start lowering down, the fire magic crackles:” He takes pity upon us, his humble servants, and grants unto us mercy.” Belrand and Thogra, now under the city's door on which walkway Harald stands, join the prayer: “His holy light of truth will cast out the forces of darkness and rain justice upon Daedric abominations.” The four of them end it in unison :”Glory shall be his, forever.”
At this point, Harald gasps, the fire extinguishes and he sinks his head in Erandur's shoulder, crying hard. Also Inigo joins them and they all hug. The blue cat raise a hand with a syringe and hits Harald on neck with its needle. Belrand says a spell and all of them disappear.
---
When noon is setting, some steps close to the centre of the camp where stoves are cooking on a fireplace, a stocky imperial man wearing an officer helmet with an Imperial crest at its center, is blinking, as Belrand talks to him: “Legate, the message is clear here. I need just three of them.” Belrand is pointing on the scroll and looking at him. Then turns towards a woman: “What do you say Jarl Merilis?”
The woman is a tall muscular nord in her forties, with black and pepper short hair in golden imperial armour. She is smoking a cigar, her hand holds the golden grip on her imperial sword at her left hip. She growls towards the legate: “Come on, Tituleius. You know exactly who you want to give him!”
The legate sighs and Belrand looks where the woman is pointing, winking at him.
“Che?”An imperial woman, dark skinned, big green eyes grunts towards them without turning from the pot she's stirring. She's wearing no shoes, her leather armour with the imperial pennant has seen better days and her silver claymore looks impossible for her to carry. Eventually she turns and asks, her accent is a mixture of the Capital and her colovian city:”Brina dear, nice to see you. what is happening? ” she points at Belrand: “who's this Solitude guard?”
Belrand growls:”Wrong already, kid. She's a Jarl, I'm your new optio, what is your name?”
“Really?”The imperial woman growls but nods: “My name's Mear'ya, hailin' from Bruma, optio dear.”
Brina points at the woman next to Meary'a. She's short like Belrand. Her big amber big eyes behind some spectacles are looking at the sky through another lens. She's not wearing a Legion armour but a purple skirt with trousers underneath and a brown light leather tunic. Next to her, a dwarven golden contraption resembling a spider. She gasps when Belrand look at her, recognise Brina and says, her nasal accent clicks in the air:”Surement, Madame, I am awake. What..?”Brina burst in laughter: “she's Remiel, a Breton dwemer specialist. ”
Brina moves in front of another soldier. He's next to Remiel: a stocky, barefoot bold nord, his armour is a heavy imperial one, he's got a silver sword on his right hip. A shield crossing his chest and a claymore on his back. He grunts and salute:” This is Gregor, Imperial heavy avantgarde at your service.”
Brina smirks and whispers to Belrand: “He shared my bed for a while, got a lot of stamina, optio. I'd trust him with my life”
Gregor's hand send Brina a kiss, she winks at him.
Belrand blinks at her for a second as Mear'ya and the Jarl burst in laughter.
Belrand can't see him, but Harald is at his back, a dumb smile on his face. His right hand wiggles to someone among the new legionnaires.
Eventually, Belran take his pipe and start smoking. “They'll do, Jarl.” Nods towards Brina, then turns towards them. “You're going to guard a very ” he coughs “peculiar guy, mates. His name's Harald and he's the pup of an imperial general.” he smiles and continues: “ Your cover story is that you're his guards and most of the time you won't even see him. He's going to study in Shalidor's college...for at least four years” Gregor whistles than burst in laughter. A gasp, then Mear'ya's claymore clangs on Belrand's side and he barely manages to step away.
Mear'ya is yelling, her strong Capital accent in the air : “dannato porco, damned pig I kill you”, the small Imperial raises her claymore again and stops mid-air changing direction. And barely misses him. “I swear” Harald is showing her his palms: “I swear I am not guilty of whatever you accuse me of” Mear'ya grins: “you pig, you bedded me and then disappeared.” Harald growls “I can explain, I was...”but turns on his feet and runs away. Belrand blinks at Brina: “Oi, did you know, Jarl?”
She shrugs, crossing her arms on her chest: “I didn't but you have a long way ahead of you.” She nods and smiles “Take them with you, they're better than they look” As he stand in salute, she turns on her feet, grabs the elbow of the legate and moves with him towards a tent.
Thogra, Inigo and Erandur arrive in the same time and Thogra asks: “the Potter libido hits again?” In the meantime, on their background, Mear'ya tries to hit Harald with her claymore several times. He evades her every time, nimble as a cat and smiles towards them. “I swear, darling...” he shows her the palms: “In Dawnstar, I bedded just you...” She blushes: “In Dawnstar...?”and raise again her silver claymore
Belrand heaves a sigh while Inigo, Erandur and Thogra burst in laughter.