[i][h3]Prologue[/h3][/i] [i]14th of Second Seed, 4E207 The Imperial City[/i] The weather-wizards of the Synod, whose eyes were permanently directed skyward as they studied the wind and the rain and the clouds, had claimed in a statement published in the [i]Black Horse Courier[/i] that it was going to be a very hot summer this year. Hector saw no reason to disagree with their findings as he made his way through the wide boulevards of the Imperial City. It was only Second Seed and the warmth radiating off the white stone slabs of the architecture and the cobbled streets was enough to make him sweat in his leather Penitus Oculatus uniform. Hector still thought the black-and-red colour scheme and the sigil of the all-seeing eye proudly displayed on the chest were a tad ridiculous, but it would do well for him to appear in official attire at a briefing. In some ways, the Penitus Oculatus and the Ruby Ranks were hardly different. It had been two years since the Empire defeated the Stormcloak Rebellion at long last. The protracted civil war had raged for more than four years. Its progress had been temporarily impeded by the reappearance of the dragons but the Last Dragonborn swiftly put an end to most of that, only to disappear into hiding almost immediately after. Ulfric Stormcloak had blamed the Empire for leaving that task up to a single individual, no matter how prodigious his soul and martial prowess, and the armed conflict resumed with renewed vigor, and only came to its end after a horrendous siege on the city of Windhelm that lasted for weeks. Hector had spent the entirety of the war up there in cold, harsh Skyrim and had thoroughly enjoyed his forays into warmer climates these last two years in service of the Penitus Oculatus. Little did he know he was about to be sent to the opposite end of the continent. Hector's order made its headquarters in one of the many halls of White-Gold Tower. Cool air and shade greeted him upon stepping foot into the building. Its thick walls drowned out the bustle and noise of the City outside; the only sound to be heard was the rhythmic [i]pit-pat[/i] of his leather boots on the stone floor as he made his way through the foyer. It was a large, open space, scarcely decorated and without windows. The only feature of note was the wooden door set into the wall opposite the entrance with the same all-seeing eye of the Penitus Oculatus hanging over it, sewn into a large banner. It was deliberate theatrics designed to intimidate all those who entered. Hector sighed. The door was flanked by two heavily-armed and armored guards. Even though they knew who Hector Sibassius was, uniform and all, the Penitus Oculatus took security very seriously and the taciturn soldiers asked for Hector's papers before they let him in. The next chamber was much larger and stretched deep into the carousel-shape of White-Gold tower's base and Hector could see the curvature of the structure in the chamber's walls. All of its space -- except a single wide aisle through the center -- was filled with desks at which dozens of scribes sat and worked. Even here it was surprisingly quiet, save for the sound of many quills scratching away at rolls of parchment blending together indistinguishably into a humming background noise. None looked up from their work to notice Hector's passing. "Captain Sibassius," an older man said as Hector stepped into one of the offices that connected to the Hall of Scripture. The man turned around while Hector gently closed the door behind him and greeted him with an affable smile. At once Hector recognized him; it was Gaius Virelo, one of the officers previously assigned to the Oculatus' field office near the border with Morrowind. Hector despised him. Virelo's smile did not extend to his eyes, and the gauntness of his face made him look like a snake. "[i]Commander[/i] Virelo. What a pleasant surprise. I see they've promoted you again?" Hector replied flatly and retorted Virelo's insincere smile with one of his own. He approached the chair prepared for him on his side of the office's large mahogany desk and laid his hands on the crest rail. Virelo laughed -- a barking, mirthless sound -- and dismissed Hector's assumption with a handwave, as if it were a small matter. "Where is Petrus?" Hector asked. Unfazed, Virelo presented Hector with another smile, this one markedly more condescending. "Retired, Hector. Haven't you heard? The Emperor thought it best. You know, at his age... either way, come, sit down," Virelo said and gestured towards the chair. Frowning, Hector scoffed. Petrus was nearing seniority, yes, but Virelo was only four years his junior. Still, it wouldn't do to immediately come to verbal blows with his new superior at the first opportunity. The ex-Legionnaire sat down and busied himself with draping the black skirt of his uniform over his legs properly while Virelo took a seat of his own. "To business, then," Hector said, and had cleared his face of any expression when he looked up. It was better to get this over with as quickly as possible. "Very well," Virelo replied, clearly of the same mindset, and pushed a bundle of sealed documents over the desk towards Hector. The Commander cleared his throat and continued: "Those papers contain everything we know about a certain character named Akhar. Have you heard of him?" The older man raised his eyebrows expectantly and stroked his chin with his fingers. A pregnant lull in the conversation occurred as Hector reached for the scrolls and began to rifle through them, his cerulean eyes moving quickly over the black ink, absorbing as much information as he could. "Oh," he mumbled eventually. "So this is the pirate lord. I had heard of his activities, but not his name." Another silence followed as Hector continued to read. "This," Hector said, louder, and held up a single sheet of papyrus. "A plea for help from High Rock?" he asked and met Virelo's gaze. The older man nodded once, slowly, and cleared his throat. "It seems the city-states are not capable of addressing the threat that Akhar poses. They assure us that Hammerfell's coast is in similar dire straits, but the Redguards are too proud to admit it." Virelo smiled genuinely at this and chuckled. "We have no way of verifying if that is true, but I would not be surprised." "Nor I," Hector replied absent-minded as he continued to read. The information contained in the scrolls was both interesting and disconcerting. Reports of sailors claiming their ships had been boarded by Daedra, townspeople of coastal villages swearing they saw black ships pass on the horizon in the dead of night, their sails ablaze with flame, entire caravans lost to an unknown force... [i]"Look at the majesty sideways and all you see is the Tower, which our ancestors made idols from... Look at the secret triangular gate sideways and you see the secret Tower... The secret Tower within the Tower is the shape[/i]-- What is this?" Hector asked, frowning. "Oh, that," Virelo said and rubbed his temples. "Our scholars have identified it as an excerpt from the Lessons of Vivec. One of the survivors of a caravan raid swore up and down the mountain that he saw Akhar himself and that he spoke those words before he executed the whole caravan. The survivor was spared deliberately. We asked the College of Whispers why he would preach those words, or that sermon in particular. I believe they're still bickering about it. Personally, I think it's not that important -- so he quotes the scriptures of a dead god. He's insane. Maybe you can ask that friend of yours what it means, eh? That Dark Elf?" Hector grunted non-noncommittally and went back to reading. Virelo leaned forward in his chair and placed his viperian head on his fingertips. "Hector," he said, and the man in question looked up at the tone of Virelo's voice -- did he just detect a hint of concern and wariness? "Much of what those documents contain is hearsay and so fantastical in nature I find most of it hard to believe, but we do have reasons to assume that this Akhar is no ordinary pirate. He sailed into the harbor of Daggerfall in a stolen trader's vessel, made his presence known and challenged the Knight of Moons to a duel. Honour-bound, the Knight agreed and ordered the guards to keep their distance." The wooden chair creaked as Hector mimicked Virelo's pose and leaned in closer. "They fought then and there, in the harbor. It was over in seconds. Akhar struck the Knight down and shattered Dawnbreaker as if it were any other blade. He escaped without a scratch. How is it described again? There, that scroll -- no, the other one." After a few seconds of mouthing along to the words as he read, Hector spoke them out loud. [i]"After the Knight fell, the guards attempted to accost him... Akhar cast a great wall of flames that burned so bright it turned night into day and retreated aboard his ship... none could reach him... there was a great wailing."[/i] Hector looked up, disbelief etched clearly on his face. Virelo shrugged. "It's true. Dozens of witnesses confirmed it. We've seen the body and the shards of the blade ourselves. This happened two days ago. The latest reports indicate the riots in Daggerfall are still ongoing. I'm sure you understand the Emperor cannot ignore such an event." Momentarily amazed into silence, Hector retreated into the comfort of the chair and pondered this news. "What, exactly," he asked eventually, "is expected of me?" "Kill him, if you can. The Emperor asked for you directly. Aside from everything you just learned, the largest problem in achieving this goal is that Akhar appears to have made his lair in Valenwood. Somewhere in the vicinity of Greenheart," Virelo answered. Hector tried to read the man's expression and tone but got nowhere. Virelo represented the Nibenese branch of the Penitus Oculatus, which believed that the commandeering of such an agency should be left to magistrates and politicans, not soldiers. Hector would not put it beyond the man to use Akhar as a tool to rid himself of another soldier on a meteoric rise in the order. That said, openly voicing that assumption without hard proof would be a foolish mistake. And what if the Emperor really did ask for him by name? Virelo continued. "The political situation between the Empire and the Dominion does not allow for a frank discussion about the presence of Akhar within the Dominion's borders. We do not know if they house him willingly or if he makes his home there against their will, and they have simply not yet succeeded in ousting or slaying him themselves. Our eyes and ears in Valenwood are a precious few these days, but one of our assets in Morrowind claims to have heard a rumor that traveled all the way from Valenwood through Anequina, Black Marsh and finally to Blacklight, that the elves fear him greatly. Something about blood streaming upriver..." The old Imperial paused and sighed. "A covert assassination, then," Hector said curtly. Virelo nodded. The man's poignant stare made it clear to Hector that he would stand alone in this. "Plausible deniability, Hector. We cannot risk sending more of our own." "As the Emperor wills it." -- [i][h3]Chapter One[/h3][/i] [img]http://i.imgur.com/RAch5M1.png[/img] [i]27th of Sun's Height, 4E207 Near Arenthia Valenwood[/i] Hector was the sole member of the Penitus Oculatus that was to carry out this mission, but that did not mean he had to do so utterly alone. Interpreting Virelo's words to mean that he was free to utilize his assets as he wished, Hector had spent the first few weeks discovering the whereabouts of various people he had met in the past and sent them messages by courier to request their assistance. For some it was a matter of principle, like Roland Corvo, whom Hector believed would follow him anywhere if asked to do so. For others it was the money, like the Khajiit Do'ava; Hector had drawn upon his significant allowance to finance the mission. And for yet others, it was friendship. Hector and Balen had set up camp just north of Arenthia on the bank of a small river, where they now waited for the others. Hector's letters had specified this day as the day the group should assemble and had included forged documents of the East Empire Trading Company with them. The Empire and the Dominion might be close to war but trade had to continue and such documents would grant Hector's allies entry at one of the many Thalmor checkpoints that dotted the border with the Empire. This far north, the fabled jungles of Valenwood were not yet very impressive. The trees were of middling height, with smooth bark and strange, large, flat leaves that sprung from the very top. Balen had informed Hector these were known as 'palm trees'. Predictably, the Imperial had not cared at all. More remarkable to him had been the undergrowth. The small shore upon which they sat now was the only patch of earth Hector had seen for miles that wasn't covered in waist-high vegetation, save for Arenthia itself. Predators could hide themselves easily in the tall grass and ferns and Hector had constantly thought he saw something move out of the corners of his eyes on their way to the river, much to his annoyance. He insisted on wearing his Cyrodiilic steel armor and traveling cloak despite the heat (the weather-wizards had been right and it was positively sweltering) and the image he struck, of a knight of the Third Era of yore, looked sorely out of place as he stared pensively at the clear water of the river, his hands clasped behind his back. Hector used a trick he'd learned from an Imperial battlemage to keep himself cool and continuously drew upon small amounts of magicka to send a burst of ice-chilled air into the gaps of his armor -- one of the few cantrips Hector was capable of. "I hope she comes," Hector said to Balen for the third time that day. He was referring to Erissil Stagshoof, a Bosmer native of Valenwood, that had apparently agreed to guide them south. Hector had sent the messenger into Valenwood with a mixture of hope and resignation at the idea that no one would heed the call. It had been a pleasant surprise to receive word that one of the clans had sent one of their own to meet him. Still, Hector was not sure he believed she would appear at all. The other allies he had called upon would be a welcome presence indeed, but Erissil could make or break their quest by herself. Like a she-devil who comes when her name is spoken, Hector looked up to see someone moving in the bushes on the other side of the river. His hand instinctively went to the grip of his sheathed sword. "Ba-- Eno," he hissed, quickly correcting himself (they had agreed that Hector would use Balen's alias whenever they were around people they did not know). "What do you see?" [sub]([@Peik] and [@Jbcool], you're up first.)[/sub]