A Symphony of Frost and Flame - Prologue
Entry posted by Irstina
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Hi! I made a thing and decided to post it here too, Unfortunately since I'm also posting this on Nexus, there won't actually be any sexual content - I hope someone still finds it interesting! I may, in the future, add an entry or two exclusively here with stuff like that, but it would have to make sense in the context of the narrative first. I'm still terrible at formatting these blogs so bear with me.
Future entries will be following specific characters and we will only really be seeing and hearing what they do and listening to their thoughts, this will also make it more personal rather than the high-level situation presented here. For an introduction however, I felt it was necessary to set the scene.
Future entries might also be a bit shorter (Edit from the future: SHE'S A LIAR, BEWARE!), since this one quickly got out of control as far as the number of images goes. We'll see. I haven't done this before, so I'm still figuring it out \o/
Contents:
ACT I
Prologue (You are here!)
PART I
The 201st year of the Fourth Era is drawing to a close - and the Imperial Province of Skyrim remains locked in its devastating civil war.
Men? Men are violent, short-lived creatures.
Ephemeral. They come and go as the seasons.
They think the world revolves around their squabbles – this patch of dirt here, that feud there - children, blindly fumbling through a
world they barely understand.
We are as a year to their hour, a decade to their day. We, endure.
The previous winter proved difficult for the Empire.
Most of the farmers of Skyrim were recruited by their respective lordlings to fight their petty civil war for them. Imperial leadership
has utterly failed to stamp out this rebellion.
This year will be different.
We will be taking a different approach. A change that is long overdue. One that will end the war.
Of course, the ensuing famine is a separate matter, of little import to us. Between the Dragon Crisis and the Civil War, the harvest of 201 has failed. Those who were not drafted were slaughtered by raiding parties...
Or worse things...
As per the White-Gold Concordat, agents of the Aldmeri Dominion have been empowered to hunt down Talos Worshipers across the Empire.
Our representatives here in Skyrim have been taking this task very seriously – symbols are important, and they shall not have this one.
This aspect of the faith must be stamped out, lest they end up considering themselves our equals. Preposterous.
Talos is not a god.
He was a human. And he is long dead.
We are not "killing" him.
We are merely lighting his funeral pyre.
There is, however, much more to our operations than hunting down would-be heretics. Humans are nothing if not adaptable. Our mere presence alongside the Imperial Legion legitimizes us. If the humans get used to seeing the White Eagle as a symbol of authority, they will be all the easier to control following their inevitable conquest.
Moreover, Alinor is interested in a number of ruins in the province, particularly those of Dwemer origin.
Any potential artifacts must be secured lest they fall into the hands of the Imperials – or even worse foes.
With the winter snows thawing, the Aldmeri Dominion and their Imperial ‘allies’ are renewing their efforts to crush the Stormcloak rebellion. A new Elven regiment, a hundred strong, will be marching into the province this Spring. Perhaps most noteworthy among the newly arriving officers is Justicar Rianne.
She is being transferred from Alinor itself, at her personal request, apparently.
The humans have forgotten what a real army looks like – it has been thirty years since they’ve seen one, after all.
We will be giving them another lesson. One that they'll remember, this time.
Aldmeri Soldiers are loyal. They do not retreat - and they would sooner fall on their own swords than consider something as dishonorable as rebellion.
As for the Justicar - I am vaguely familiar with her –she was one of the youngest Aldmeri soldiers to fight in the Great War, in part due to her family’s misfortunes with the new regime. Her House name remains somewhat controversial in Alinor – I suppose she is here to prove her loyalty. With this Civil War dragging on interminably due to human incompetence, there would be no shortage of opportunity.
There is one other matter. The Dragonborn. Our spies have lost track of the man during the Winter - a shameful failure. From what we've managed to piece together, the confrontation with the so called "World Eater" changed him somehow, we are sorely lacking in details.
A number of his associates have been apprehended and interrogated by our intelligence officers. None of them were familiar with his plans or his current whereabouts. The subjects failed to survive interrogation.
Other known supporters, including an alleged love interest, remain at large.
To the best of our knowledge, he is no longer in the province. This is ideal for us, as he was a wildcard wholly outside our control. Ideally, he will never return.
Following his failure to end the Civil War before winter, General Tullius has been relieved of command this spring. Rumors have it the man suffered a mental breakdown after a second foiled attempt at Ulfric’s life - his officers have allegedly been running everything ever since. They are so fragile.
His replacement, a certain Varus Laecinnius, seems more interested in political manoeuvres than military ones. And yet, he will suit our purposes just fine.
Varus is the son of an elder statesman from the Imperial City. Quintus Laecinnius was one of the architects of the peace treaty 30
years prior and a known sympathizer of Alinor – apparently, some men DO know their place.
A swift victory in Skyrim for young Varus would not only raise him to stardom within the Imperial Legion...
But doing so alongside us would grant his father’s faction even more political clout – with his cooperation, we can further pursue the Empire’s integration into the Dominion. There will be no Second Great War – their conquest will be a peaceful one.
To this end, Aldmeri and Imperial Officers will be working together, something that has not happened since the Oblivion Crisis, two centuries ago.
The council of weak-kneed fools steering the Empire to its demise after the Emperor's death may not realize this, but the arrangement benefits us far more than it does them. The mere fact that the Men would accept this deal denotes their desperation. Their Empire is crumbling. We are here to help it do just that.
Things will return to the way they used to be – the way they SHOULD be. One Nation. Under Mer.
The White City will not tolerate another Hammerfell. Our victory will be swift. We will prove the superiority of Mer by solving the Empire’s problems for them. We will end the Civil War. We will kill Jarl Stormcloak.
And then? Then we will pick their country clean of any magical artifacts of note – and leave them to squabble among themselves in these grey wastes they call home.
Alinor Aeternum.
- Magister Talandil, Commander of the Thalmor Expedition in Skyrim
PART II
Marcus put the journal down and sighed as he slumped back into his chair, he had spent hours translating the flowery Elven tongue and
found that most of it was just more of the Magister’s inane ramblings rather than anything relevant. The whole thing made for an exhausting read.
He made a mental note to complain to his handler about the quality of recent interceptions – this was not the first time Imperial Intelligence had acquired journal entries or missives belonging to the Thalmor Commander and as the best translator the spy network had in the province, he was saddled with all of them.
And yet, he was happy enough with his assignment to Whiterun. Jarl Balgruuf has been maintaining a staunchly neutral stance throughout the war. There were few safer places for his family than within the city walls. The province was burning - but they - they were safe.
“I’m going out for a walk, dear.” He embraced Aurelia as they shared a short kiss.
She frowned lightly and shook her head “A walk? Like, a normal one?”
Aurelia seemed unconvinced – she was well aware of his occupation, and the dangers it entailed. In the past, her overbearing nature had been frustrating, but he’d since grown to appreciate how much she cared.
“Yes, really. I just need some fresh air after all that work – dreary stuff, truly.” She accepted his explanation, but seemed worried nonetheless – as usual.
He turned to Antonia and lightly ruffled her hair. "Be good for your mom, little lady."
The gesture always seemed to annoy her, so he always did it - he considered it his duty as a father. "Yes father..." She replied tersely.
“I shan’t be long.” He gave them one more glance before walking towards the door. "Don’t tarry, I’m preparing dinner. Besides, it’s already dark.” His wife answered, ever concerned.
Marcus always seemed to enjoy walks at night - perhaps this was due to the nature of his job, or perhaps his job came as a result of his preference for the dark.
He sighed as he looked over the battlements. The evening air was quite cool, though with the end of Sun’s Dawn being close, he expected the weather to turn with the coming of Spring.
The elves the Magister mentioned would likely be coming through within the next week or two - he may be able to catch a glimpse of them. This year, the war would surely end, he had planned to return home to Cyrodiil - perhaps even retire from active duty with Imperial Intelligence entirely. It had been an exciting tour, but worry for his family weighed too heavily on his mind these days.
He felt guilty for voicing his complaints – after all, many of his friends in the service risked their lives daily spying on Elves, Stormcloaks and the like. They were in constant, mortal danger. The worst he had to deal with were Talendil's interminable rants on Elven superiority. A small burden to carry, compared to the others.
Suddenly, Marcus felt a hand tightly grip his mouth, the assailant pushed him against the battlement. “Don’t steal from your betters, Spy.”, the dark voice said.
The voice’s accent was queer, but he had no time to place it – he felt the dagger plunge into his side, like a piece of ice. Again. And again. And again. As his knees were starting to give in, the shadowy figure, with some difficulty, hoisted and pushed him over the edge.
Marcus’ mind raced as he fell. He thought of Aurelia and Antonia and how he had endangered them. How all of this was his fault.
The bastard likely knew where he lived, he probably knew about all the documents stashed away in his desk. The assassin did not consider that the key was on him, or perhaps he did not care. If he dared touch them...
A feeling of helplessness washed over him. He would not be there to protect them. He briefly considered the irony of the situation - he had grown so accustomed to safely moving about in the dark, either for work or pleasure, that it did not even cross his mind that someone lurking out there would seek to harm him. Aurelia was right all along, more than he cared to admit. He had let his guard down. Just once. And it was enough.
Would they be safe? Perhaps the assassin only needed him... Perhaps...
Marcus did not have long to consider these questions. The landing would break his neck.
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