[B]A collab between Voltaire and myself.[/B]

Although he could not have been aware of it, it had only taken approximately 40 minutes for dwemer forces to retrieve Wets-His-Blade to claim him as a prisoner. The hefty argonian was stripped of armour and weapons and dressed in a simple pair of trousers and bound tightly with a length of rope. His wounds, while severe, were closed off by a group of healers, mostly civilian liaisons from the city in employ of the dwemer forces. A large six-wheeled transport that towered over the gates waited for the argonian to be loaded aboard in the enclosed back with other prisoners. It was like an oversized; mostly alloy covered wagon where the guards mounted the top and the driver was kept in the front, safely within the confines of the armour in a separate compartment from the prisoners in the back. Perplexingly, it propelled itself without horses to haul it along, seemingly indomitable against the forces that would seek to assail it, not that many would; the sections of the city the transport traversed were long since secured and the armed escort was usually more than enough to discourage rash action, and certainly while battles still raged in the streets. 

It was not long before the palace loomed ahead, a towering-walled fortress of smooth golden stone and ornate carvings and inlays offering a breathtaking, if foreboding, façade to the massive structure. It was one of the largest structures in Tamriel, towering over the Hegathe skyline. The dwemer had first constructed it as the head of the Rourken clan using what materials could be scavenged from the arid terrain of Volenfell, and it stood as a symbol of their power in the harsh, lethal lands. When they had vanished from Tamriel, their foundations remained, waiting for so many years to be discovered by the Yokudan explorers from the West who would claim Volunfell as their new home and rechristen it Hammerfell. Only suiting of a land that was inherited by those who came after, the Redguard built upon the foundations the dwemer left behind. It was that merging of cultures that loomed before the transport before twin heavy, reinforced gates opened and the transport made its way through a series of three more gates in a narrow tunnel with inlets for archers and boiling water to fend off a siege indefinitely, as the palace had doubtless endured across the centuries. 

Blade had spent most of the ride to the palace fading in and out of consciousness, every bump in the road making him wince as they jarred his cracked ribs. An injury that the healers hadn't had the time or supplies to tend to. He didn't fully come to his senses until about the time the vehicle passed through the gates of the palace. He grimaced as he rose to his feet, ribs flaring up again, but managed to disembark on his own. Though he was a prisoner, he refused to show any weakness around his captors.

He'd tried to make out details through the sack that had been placed over his head for the duration of the hike through the palace halls, but it was too well woven. 

Parking in a courtyard, the transport door lowered and the Palace Garrison stood at the ready to process them. Blinking rapidly in the harsh sunlight he'd glanced around at the palace courtyard and the impressive walls that surrounded it and the palace itself. He was starting to realize he was in some deep shit. He'd started to follow the other prisoners when they were being led away but was mildly surprised when the guards directed him a different direction. With hands and feet bound in lengths of conjoined rope, was lead to another set of double doors, only beautifully engraved of hardwood that did not grow in the region. A burlap bag was thrown over the argonian’s head and the world went dark as he was escorted through the halls, across courtyards, and up various flights of stairs. 

After a long period of blindness, the bag was removed and Blade was subdued by three powerful dwemer guards. A forth administered a foul-tasting elixir down the argonian’s pried open mouth and within moments a weak ache filled his muscles and his strength ebbed to a much more lethargic pace. The argonian didn't bothered resisting much when the guards roughly forced a beaker of something down his throat that sapped what little strength he had. Besides the fact that it hurt just to move, he figured it would be better if the dwemer thought him complacent for now.

This accomplished, the door was opened and Blade was lead to an open room, supported by carved marble columns and dominated by a hardwood desk in the middle of the floor accompanied by three matching gilded chairs, back to an open balcony behind. Standing at the balcony was a dwemer woman in a modest black dress with golden inlays that flowed to her ankles. Gold bangles hugged her arms in the shape of serpents and altmeri glass earrings hanging in long prisms from golden mounts. Despite her youthful appearance and clear complexion, there was an air of ancient wisdom to the woman, someone accustomed to living several lifetimes worth of experience and authority. She did not turn to face the procession. “Two of you, stand guard. The rest are dismissed. Our guest is not going to offer us trouble, is he?” she asked, turning to face Blade for the first time. “I do not know your name, but I do know of your more famous companions. It is enough to separate you from the common rabble and why Doshin saw value in keeping you alive to present to me instead of removing your head.” She gestured at the argonian with a nod before moving to a side table where a silver pitcher sat on a tray with four overturned chalice. She poured one, a clear white wine filling the chalice. One of the guards cut Blade’s restraints free with a dagger, effectively leaving the argonian unbound and unarmoured. She smiled. “Please do not mistake my words for idle threats; I am not one for such crude dispositions. I simply find value in the undisguised truth. I am Governor Razlinc Rourken, the inheritor of Volunfell and the administrator of this region. May I inquire as to what your name would be, stranger? I am quite fond of alluring, interesting individuals and anonymity will not suffice.” 

"Our guest is not going to offer us trouble is he," The argonian repeated mentally. Not right now, he thought idly in response. He moved towards the table as she finished speaking and took a seat, wondering why no one had seen fit to give him a shirt. He didn't really care one way or the other, he was hardly ashamed of his physique. But he figured officials and nobility, who typically lived soft, comfortable lives, would likely be unsettled with the countless number of scars that marred his dark scales. Pale reminders of the constant violence he'd subjected himself to over the years in addition to the fresh cuts and contusions he'd received at the hands of the city guard. Well, he supposed she'd just have to deal with it. 

"People just call me Blade, so I guess you can too." The argonian sat with sat with his arms crossed, eyeing the chalice briefly and wondering who it was for before looking back up at the Governor. "But is it me you find interesting, or the people I've traveled with? What could be so interesting about an otherwise unknown argonian? And was the potion really necessary? It didn't taste particularly good, and as you said, it's not as if I'm going to give you trouble, in my current state at least."

"Very well then, Blade." Razlinc said, taking her seat across from the argonian and setting the chalice of wine between them, precisely in the middle. She offered it no more attention. "The poison is a necessary precaution," the dwemer corrected. "It will do no permenant harm but it will prevent you from extending the same discourtesy to me. Understand you are at a disadvantage for one such as myself trusting your words; your actions have done little to engender familiarity or comfort. Had we met under more pleasant circumstances, you would have found a much more comfortable welcome, but I believe in maintaining civility with all who enter my premises, even if what you have done is cause for execution. And justly so, I might add." she said, her voice more curious than indignant. There was no animosity or disgust anywhere on her face or in her voice. 

"While initially it was your companions we took interest in, as myself and several of my high command profess admiration for their accomplishment in Imperial City two years ago, you clearly are more than a simple follower or hired muscle. You single-handed planned and executed a brave, but ultimately foolish, assault on the Hegathe guards barracks and left several good men dead and came curiously close to killing the captain of the guard. Be assured, his fate is still being decided, but what to do with you?" Razlinc asked rhetorically. "I rather admire fearless, talented warriors and have more than a fleeting interest in cultures that are unfamiliar to me. Understand, I have read every text and scroll about this world and its inhabitants I could get my hands on over my life, but seeing, interacting with, touching... these are all things that are new to me. You are the first argonian I have spoken to, a race that had even driven the Daedra back in fear two-hundred years ago when Mehrunes Dagon had attempted to conquer Tamriel. Imagine my surprise! This world is nothing like I remember it. It's quite... appealing. You are a deadly, dangerous man, Blade. What should I make of you?"

Blade was pensive for a moment, and only looked back at the Govenor, studying her. During the brief silence however, thoughts raced back and forth within the argonian's mind. What information should he give this woman? He knew he had to give her something or his usefulness would wane and he'd likely be executed as she'd mentioned or be subjected to some other torture. He was certain that he should downplay his relationship with Zaveed and the others, for the time being at least. 

"Well," Blade started as his eyes met Razlinc's, if it's information on the argonian culture you want, I'm afraid I can't help you. I've never even seen Blackmarsh, nor have I felt the need to research it. So you will certainly know far more about it than I." 

Blade couldn't help but wonder what the woman was playing at with the single glass of wine. It was entirely likely that it was meant as some kind of test or trap. On the other hand it could be nothing and she just liked to toy with the emotions of her visitors. Blade refused to let her do that, and grabbed the glass from its place on the table, supping the rich liquid and letting it soothe his parched tongue before addressing her again with an almost cheery air about his words.

"As for what you should make of me, well, that's both difficult and simple at the same time. The simple answer is, I'm a warrior. War is my life. Day in and day out, my job is take the lives of others. The Capital arena was a fine place to do this, until the Imperial city was sacked of course. So I needed to find a new place to ply my trade. As it happened, there was a merry band of fighters who were more than happy have an extra sword join their crew. And in another twist of fate, these fighters were not so happy with the dwemer either. So I joined them, and together we've cut a bloody swathe across the western half of Tamriel." Blade gulped down the last of the glass's contents and sighed appreciatively. "Attack a city. Make enemies. Strange the way life works isn't it? But I guess that must be new concept for your kind as well."

The Governor didn't spare a glance at the goblet, her little test concluding itself. You could tell a lot about a man by something simple as his willingness to take an uncertain chalice of wine and drink from it when it was offered by an enemy. He did not hesitate or try to determine the contents, he took it for face value and was bold enough to make the most of the offered situation. He also did not believe it was poisoned, or if he did, he did not fear death in the face of something worse. It was usable information. She did not interrupt as he spoke, and she drank in his words as readily has he had the wine. She knew better than to cut someone off when speaking; all words, no matter how crudely postured or intentionally misleading, contained something of value. 

"To the point." She conceded. "It would be fair to say nothing but a glorious battle drives you, then. Captain Doshin managed to report the things you told him. Your bloody swathe, as you postured it, has accomplished little, it would seem. The most notable thing you have done is overcome a light garrison at the Chorrol outpost. Other than that, inciting a small uprising that was going to happen regardless in Hegathe, and some other Heroes of Tamriel causing another in Rihad were about the only things to happen of note. The Rihad uprising, I should point out, had failed in remarkably short order. The disappointing thing is your companions would have been left unmolested had they simply not become involved. What happens in Cyrodiil is not of my concern, but here, in Volunfell... order is important. So, enlighten me." Razlinc said, folding her hands together and leaning forward somewhat. "What drove you to attack the guard barracks alone? Surely you understood that there was a very real chance of death, and you've made it clear you care not for your compatriots' cause. Unless, of course you do, and you were lying on that regard. I believe the term is actions speak louder than words?"

Blade scoffed at Razlinc's words and immediately regretted it as his fractured ribs flared up. He winced once then recovered. "Obviously I knew I could die when I made an attempt on Mr. Doshin's life, but I try not to let fear influence my decisions. And I'm afraid you've read to deeply into my actions. Though my allies and I have raised our swords against a common adversary, it does not mean we do so for the same reasons." Blade shrugged as he continued, "Near as I can tell, the Heroes of Tamriel as you call them, are hoping to sabotage your campaign with the hopes of bringing the Empire back to power. Or something like that. I dont put much stock in the plan, though by your own admission, we have accomplished little. Even a little is still something no? It's more than I expected. Anyway, as I told Doshin, I couldn't care less who rules as long as they do so honorably. Which leads me to a question of my own. Tell me, are your men trained to attack unarmed civilians as well? Because the troops I fought at Chorral didn't seem to give cutting down innocent men and women a second thought." 

Blade knew he shouldn't be so combative in this situation, seeing as his continued good health relied on the deck ions of the woman before him. But the the memory of what transpired at Chorral sent his temper bubbling every time. He too leaned forward, his words coming in a low growl. "That is why I saw fit to attack the barracks. Because it was asked of me and I had no reason not to. Because your men have proven to be dishonorable at every turn. Because your men have sacked our homes, killed our friends, and are attempting to alter our way of life." The argonian paused for a moment and leaned back in his chair, taking control of his temper before asking, "why shouldn't I raise my weapons against you and your ilk, [i]Governor[/i]?" Blade practically spat the final word out, as if it left a foul taste on his sensitive palate.

A small terse smile crossed Razlinc's face, a small acknowledgement of victory, not unlike solving a piece of a puzzle. "Ah, so you do care. It isn't just the thirst of battle that sustains you. To answer your simple inquiry, the short answer is I am not responsible for anything that happens outside of Volunfell's borders. Surely, the idea of different groups within the same race shouldn't be a completely alien idea to you. After all, did the Nords not just engage in a civil war recently, seven years ago? You couldn't possibly have bared witness, but it was one of our own who disagreed with our aims that lead to our entire race being exiled from Tamriel before we could turn our weapon against our enemies. Ancient history, I assure you. The long answer made short, Blade, is what the other Governors and commanders do outside of my command simply is not in my power to alter. I returned to Volunfell with the understanding that the Redguard were refugees from a homeland that no longer is there. I intend to allow them to continue to stay in their homes and retain their culture as we reclaim our own home. This still will happen, despite what a few misguided groups do in the name of their entire race, this insurgency. After all, it is rather simple minded to blame an entire race for the actions of a few, is it not?" she asked rhetorically. "If you wanted revenge against what was done in Imperial City, you simply traveled the wrong way and bought into a fight that wasn't your own."

Blade just shook his head as Razlinc spoke. "Of course, how very political of you. Yes, it bothers me when those who claim power do not treat the people of the land with the respect they deserve, but [i]who[/i] rules does not concern me, it's [i]how[/i] they rule. Maybe you do not treat the people of Hammerfell poorly, though I have heard otherwise, but you are still affiliated with the other Governors, and what happens to one effects another, and that is what makes this realm a target. I do not believe you have no power to change what takes place across the border, I doubt you have even bothered trying. But taking no action is the same as wielding the sword yourself. And I have the feeling that the only reason you keep peace with the Redguard, is because you don't wish to bloody your own doorstep, which is much easier to do when the populace is complacent. Correct?"

The argonian was annoyed that he'd allowed his temper to get the better of him before and was very careful to maintain control of his emotions as he continued. He would not give this woman another victory so easily. "I grow tired of your word games, Razlinc. What is it exactly, you want from me? You did not bring me here so I could tell you of my culture, most any argonian could do that. And since you apparently have subdued the insurgency, you must have a very good web of intelligence throughout by the city, so you likely already know anything I might have to offer. Why then, am I still alive? If you do indeed plan to have me killed, then I'd appreciate it if we got on with it." As Blade waited for an answer, he wondered if he could muster the strength to at least wring the woman's neck before the guards beat him into unconsciousness again.

Razlinc smiled. "You seem to confuse my lack of authority to act as a willingness to do so. The rest of the provinces can turn into an unrelenting slaughter for all of my concern. Volunfell is my home, the rest of the provinces are neither my concern nor my interest. If you think you or your insurgency have done more than take a few lives and damage some property, you are sorely mistaken. Everything that has been done can be reversed in a fortnight with minimal resources. Should the Redguard rise up as one, they will be put down as one, simple as that. The fact the insurgency has resorted to wooing war heroes into their fold and is resorting to guerrilla tactics to accomplish anything says enough at how little impact they are making. A key tenant of asymmetrical warfare like this insurgency is this; the only way it can win is if it lasts long enough for the occupying force to run out of resources or willpower and leave. They fail to realize that this is our home, and they are guests here. They can live in it with us, or die in the streets or sands, it matters not to me.

"As for why you are still alive and why I summoned you here, it's simple; a curiosity had to be itched. Now that it has been, you have nothing more to offer me." She let the word linger as she rose from the table and walked towards the open balcony to look upon the city. "You are here because you have the opportunity to earn your freedom and your record pardoned. The method should be along your tastes. Instead of simply executing criminals, I make a spectacle of it in the Arena. You will be a combatant, win ten battles and you are pardoned. Lose one and we both know what happens. A part of my fixation on other races is seeing how they fight, how they kill. You could become a champion in your own right, if the populace comes to love you. Do not harbour the illusion that you have a choice in the matter. I always get what I want. It is a much more fitting fate than had Captain Doshin simply driven a blade through your neck and hung your corpse from a lamp, is it not?"

Blade just sat with his arms crossed as Razlinc spoke, his eyes following her as she moved to the balcony. One of his brows rose as she divulged her plans for his future. "Really?" He asked rhetorically, a tinge of wary disbelief in his tone, "you're sentencing me to fight in an arena, and freedom is the prize. Ten fights?" He repeated what she'd told him, as if doing so would remind her just who she was speaking to. The argonian briefly wondered if she had forgotten that killing for sport was his profession. Or that he'd single handedly left some of the city's best warriors in pieces on the floor of the guard barracks. No. She didn't strike him as the kind of person to ignore such details. He had the feeling that these mere ten fights she had planned wouldn't exactly be fair.

Still, if Razlinc wanted to risk him getting free, however small the chance. that was fine by Blade. He shrugged dismissively, "Whatever you say lady. But you won't be seeing how argonians fight when I'm down there. Just how I fight. And no, maybe I didn't accomplish much today, but you should remember that every pebble in a river bed started out as a boulder." Blade left the vague statement at that and got to his feet, he was certain she would get his meaning. "Thanks for the drink," he growled. "Can I go now?"

"How poetic. And you claim to be an unthinking, unfeeling brute." Razlinc smiled, turning slightly to face the argonian. "Rest well, companion of the Heroes of Tamriel. Your sentence begins tomorrow." with a raised hand, the guards approached Blade, kicking out his legs to drop him to the floor to bind his hands forcefully. The last thing Blade saw before the bag turned the world black was the dangerous hunger in Governor Razlinc Rourken's eyes.