[centre][b]The Heartlands, outside Bruma[/b][/centre]
[i]Legate Vorenus ,
2000 elves stormed Leyawiin, took us by surprise at sunset. Our navy was burnt. We are camped inside Bravil and the city is on lockdown until the problem down south is dealt with. We have 600 men strong, and 100 wounded. I sent orders for the soldiers on the border to move to Anvil and keep it secure from the enemy. Scouts report another fleet move in from the South-East. 

I request immediate assistance east of the Niben bay. If we lose Cheydinhal, we lose the Imperial city.

- Legate Won't-Back-Down[/i]

It was hard not to lose heart. That would be ironic, thought the young Legate. "To lose heart in the heartlands," he scoffed from his large horse. "The bards would love that,"
He rolled up the small parchment and looked up the length of the road. Thousands of refugees were making their way north, to Bruma and beyond. There would be no relief for the forces now stationed in Bravil. The Dominion chose a convenient time to launch their attack, but the Imperial Legion had been preparing for this assault for generations. The creatures that fell from the sky were another matter completely. For Vorenus the Thalmor were only a secondary problem.

The Empire was his main concern; when the sky began to pour with the dark creatures the White Tower was the first to be hit, the darkness swallowed it and there was no word from the Empire or the tower guards. The legion was too scattered to be effective and by the time Vorenus had them organized all they could manage to do was push out of the city with as many men as he could. Abandoning the Empire had not been a popular decision amongst his troops, but the longer they stayed the more men they lost.

Bravil was well fortified and close enough to the river that the food supply would not be a problem if a lengthy siege took place. He could send word to Cheydinhal to harvest their crops and vegetables and do the same, the Thalmor would have free reign to take the Imperial city then. Under current circumstances they were welcome to it. Legate Won't-Back-Down would be upset and call him a coward twice over. Once for abandoning the Empire, and once for abandoning Bravil.

It was not Won't-Back-Down he cared about, however. It was his father, General Torrhen. Many believed Vorenus to be too soft, and lacked the spine to do what was necessary. Vorenus was cautious and valued the lives of his men. He would not throw them away carelessly. 
His father, however, was ruthless. He would have stopped at nothing to secure the Empire and save the city. Vorenus was not his father, unfortunately.

" Tribune," He whistled and the captain appeared. Vorenus handed him a small parchment. "Take fifty of your men east to Cheydinhal and give this to the Count, make sure the food is rationed and the gates are secured, prepare for a lengthy siege,"

"Yes sir," 

He then turned to the messenger who gave him the grave news from the south. "Tell Legate Won't-Back-Down the situation in the Imperial City and tell him I have gone north to rendezvous with my father and his army,"

"You are abandoning us?" The young scout said. He looked exhausted and had traveled very far to reach them. His light armour was in terrible condition and his face was full of dirt.

"Mind your tongue," Vorenus said sharply. "There is a black hole swallowing our capital. I see no problem if the Thalmor wish to take it presently,"

"It is not the Imperial city I'm concerned about! Skingrad, Anvil and Kvatch are all exposed to an attack. Thalmor have the freedom to walk across our lands unchallenged--"

"You would have me scatter my men? Protect every part of the land?" Vorenus asked harshly. "That's just not realistic. A scattered army is a weak army and we must be strong, more now than ever. On you way now, Auxiliary. May the eight guide you." His horse trotted ahead without hearing any further words of protest. 

Many of the refugees would be turned away from the city of Bruma. They would likely go north to Skyrim and find shelter in the provinces there, wandering aimlessly until someone took them in. The road was dangerous at times of tragedy, and the young Legate feared what would happen to them. Some would resort to crime and some would die of starvation, but for now many would go to sleep with empty bellies and troubled minds with the loss of loved ones freezing their hearts.

As dusk approached and night settled in, the city of Bruma could be seen lit in the distance, its gates were closed but when the Legion approached the gates opened wide, but no refugees were granted access. Curses and insults were thrown at the soldiers over the wails of hungry babes. The gate slammed out the noise and the young Legate dismounted his horse outside the chapel of Arkay and began to approach Castle Bruma. There were many townsfolk who had come to stare, many had probably expected the Empire, but all they got was the son of a General and his hungry army.