[center][b]Bruma Square[/b][/center]

[b][i]"You are a priest of Arkay, no?" He asked the question he already knew. "Come with me, chaplain. It is best you learn of this."[/i][/b]

Eugain nodded promptly at the question, and nodded once more when his presence was requested. With haste, he shuffled forward towards the castle with the Legate. This was an opportunity, he believed, that he would not get again. If he were able to help, then by the Divines he would. It was not only his duty but his calling, and thus he stepped with pride alongside the military man beside him.

As Eugain entered the temple, his breath was drawn short. The interior of the castle was magnificent to his eyes, with beautifully pointed arches and pillars evoking the feeling of old Nord architecture of the like that was no longer made by man. His reverie was broken as a servant approached and offered him wine; He respectfully declined. Instead, he placed his hands firmly together and slightly lowered his head, angling his eyes towards the ground. 

[i]This cannot be well,[/i] he thought to himself. [i]Surely, something terrible has begun.[/i]

[b][i]"You must be Torrhen's son. You have the look of him," Count Carvain said. "Although, he does not usually give me the gift of hundreds of mouths to feed,"[/i][/b]

The Count's voice was terse. Eugain could hear the note of worry carefully concealed behind his tempered eyes. The man was a bastion, one which Eugain was sure to be, in that moment, impregnable- as a fortress made of mighty steel. Though even his steady demeanor did not prepare Eugain for the news of the Imperial City's fall. The only news worse was that of the refugees finding no welcome within these walls.

He gripped his own hands tighter. This was troubling news. What of the people? What of the thousands across Skyrim who were to fall prey to these... these [i]things?[/i] It was not right, morally. Though [i]logically[/i] the count's words made perfect sense. They were, as his father had once said, "between a sword and a wall."

"Divines save us," Eugain found himself saying aloud. "One city fallen and already we serve to strip them of what hope they left the ruined walls with..." He reached a hand up and wiped his brow. What would he do? What [i]could[/i] he do? It was then that it struck him; He must do [i]something.[/i]

"Sir Legate," he finally said. "I would follow you. Please, allow me to aid those men that are wounded and accompany you from here. However," he held up a single finger, "I wish to stay informed. I must know the truth of this situation as it evolves. The Soul Cairn is of Oblivion by nature, and by mine own nature, Oblivion and Aetherius have been the focal point of my studies nearly all my life." He inhaled, turning his eyes from the Count and the Legate.

"Perhaps, with thought, there will be a way to resolve this. Perhaps I will be of help to you and your men. Or, perhaps not, but I must... I must know why the Divines have allowed this to happen. The men outside these walls are testament." He paused briefly before turning to face the Legate once more. "They are testament that something like the Oblivion crisis cannot... Must not happen again."