Alator
The Scholar
(This has been something that I have been casually working on for a while, it is from the point of view of a character of mine from the Elder Scrolls Online. It is set in the Second Era, prior to the events of the game. The character in question is Alator Virane, a Breton of High Rock. He starts as a Battlemage in the service of the Kingdom of Daggerfall in western High Rock, the province bordering Skyrim to the west. Though later on he joins the Mages Guild and spends many years travelling in Tamriel. This is his personal story. Thinking of turning it into a series but I've yet to decide, but thought some people might enjoy it. Feedback is welcome and appreciated 
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(The artwork is for anyone who is not familiar with the region, it is not my creation)
The Journeys of a Wandering Wizard – Part One; War and Duty
War. The unending game for children and kings alike. To a young man of noble blood in particular, it can be seen as life's greatest adventure. A chance to win eternal glory on the battlefield alongside proud knights, mayhaps even win the hand of a fair maiden. This is perhaps true, however it is so much more. I am older now, and being the survivor of two wars I can say that it is more than adventure. It is also a terrible noise, screaming and metal colliding. It is smells, of burning and blood. It is fear, fear for your own life and that of your brothers-in-arms and loved ones. It is seeing, seeing beautiful things brought low and destroyed, dear friends fall before your eyes. I know this now, yet I would not choose a different path had I the option to go back in time. Until Tamriel is rid of those who would seek to gain wealth and power by taking it through cruel war, it lies with those who have the capability to do so to defend their homes and everything they hold dear, to take up arms. Until the day my legs can no longer carry me, I will defend my beloved Daggerfall from anyone who would seek to destroy her, and I will lay evil to waste wherever I find it. For such is the duty of a true Battlemage.
My name is Alator Virane, I was born as the second son of the late Lord Gerard Virane in the venerable Kingdom of Daggerfall. My House is an old one, dating well back into the First Era. Albeit not particularly powerful, it has made a fair fortune through trade in sapphires (the reason House Virane still boasts a dark blue color on our banners), and it carries respect in the city, mainly because it's long history in politics. Many a councillor, knight and mage has come from the Virane family. Because I as the second son would not inherit, it fell upon me to find another path. It became clear at a young age that I possessed a strong aptitude for the arcane arts, not particularly surprising as my House has produced quite a few great mages throughout it's history. Because of this, and simply because he wanted his sons to further the Virane legacy, my father saw to that I began receiving proper tutoring as soon as I showed signs of magical aptitude. Naturally besides the more common subjects for children of Noble blood, such as learning the art of numbers, reading and history. Though I admit, the fact that I accidentally set an expensive carpet on fire at the age of six may have aided his eagerness in providing me with lessons to control my gift.
With a decade of magical studies, I was already a relatively accomplished mage when I entered the service of the King of Daggerfall at the age of seventeen as a Battlemage. Though without any real experience, I already thought of myself as invincible with the sort of hubris that only young and unbloodied soldiers have. My ideas would soon be tested in the fires of war however, not even a year after I signed up. From the mountains of the east came a horde of Reachmen under Durcorach the Black Drake, who swept across Bangkorai with the fury of a tidal wave and overran it completely. We received word in Daggerfall that Evermore had fallen after merely a few days, it's people slaughtered. Soon the Reachman army marched upon Wayrest, however the sprawling Trading Port was a far stronger opponent than Evermore had been. Lacking siege engines, the savages could not breach the newly built walls, and the attempts to storming them were beaten back. Starving them out was no option for Durcorach, for in this war, High Rock's kingdoms even on their own reigned supreme on the Iliac Bay. He had no ships to stop supplies, and after almost sixty days of siege, a token force was left behind and the Reachman moved on burning and pillaging into Glenumbra.
Camlorn's defenders fought bravely, however the new city-state soon fell to the onslaught of the Reachmen. It's streets ran with blood as it was sacked with severe brutality. Yet the Longhouse Emperor was not done there, his eyes was set on a far greater prize than Camlorn. Daggerfall readied for war. Though no longer the sole dominant power in the province with monopoly on trade, Daggerfall remained the most powerful of the Breton kingdoms, and it's ancient walls would not fall easily.
A steady stream of refugees came to the city over the next few days, filling the city to it's brim. As the great savage host of Reachmen, seemingly stretching all the way to the horizon, gathered before our walls. We defenders steeled ourselves for what would undoubtedly be a fierce battle. Durcorach needed to take our city, for if not, he would be trapped between the two preeminent powers of High Rock, Wayrest and Daggerfall. Perhaps he trusted in that the rift between our Kingdoms was too deep, for little love was lost between Daggerfall and Wayrest, but he would be proven wrong that day.
As the morning sun rose upon our great city, the city walls were bristling with archers, their armor glittering like stars in the light. Mages moved among them, ready to reign down fire on the enemy host. I myself was at the gate, for this would be where the hammer would fall. Ranks of Knights of the Dragon, the proud knightly order of Daggerfall, stood at the front. Clad in heavy armor, they were the finest fighters in the Kingdom, and would break and turn away the invaders as a rock would a wave, should they manage to force their way through the gate. Behind them stood more infantry, preparing to support the Knights should the number of savages prove overwhelming.
Surprising to us defenders, the fighting did not begin at the gate, not even really in the shadow of our walls. Heavy Lance Cavalry led by now High King Emeric fell upon the Reachmen from the rear, taking the army by surprise. I did not see the charge, but the sound of battle was so overwhelming that the men on the walls struggled to be heard over the sound of the cavalry charge. Our great King, Bergamot, who was present at the gates saw this opportunity to decisively crush the invaders and ordered the gates to be opened. The might of Daggerfall would sally out and Durcorach's army would be crushed between the hammer and the anvil.
The great gates were opened and like a tidal wave of metal, the defenders fell upon the surprised invaders with a fury that even surpassed their savagery. The charge, spearheaded by the Knights of the Dragon, crushed through the Reachmen ranks. I myself was not too far behind, yet fierce as our charge had been. The battle was not yet over. Though losing, the Reachmen were not yet beaten, and all our soldiers had not yet been committed to the battlefield, bottlenecked by the gate the same way that the invaders would have been. Thus as our forces pushed ever deeper into the Reachmen lines, we soon found ourselves fighting on three sides. I blasted apart many a Reachman with fire and lighting, as a Battlemage I focused especially on the sorcerers among them, it did not take long for me to come across them. The Reachmen employed foul sorcery to attempt to halt our advances, yet our mages responded with magic of our own viciously. Despite how little time had really passed, the ground was already littered with the bodies of dead and dying, the battlelines had grown somewhat intermingled as Breton fought Reachman in a confusing clash of men. The ground was wet with blood, and men screamed in pain as they desperately clung to their life that was pouring out out them and into the earth from gaping wounds. I came across one of their sorcerers and engaged him in a fierce duel, believing he was no match for me I fought as such, with reckless aggression. Possibly not expecting this, I seemed to catch my opponent by surprise and struck him down with a bolt of lightning, much to the dismay of the Reachmen around him. Truth to be told I was a brave young fool back then, already so sure in my own power, but life has yet to show me the error of my ways.
Already drunk on victory, I failed to see the Reachmen crashing through our line to my left. A last desperate counterattack. If I had not seen him at the last second and raised my arm to attempt a spell, his sword would likely have buried itself in my neck, instead it struck me in the shoulder with vicious intent, sending me into the ground among the fallen. The sword I carried was still in my scabbard, as I had not seen fit to draw it when I had magic to aid me. Already feeling the warmth of my blood running over my arm and chest, I raised my right arm to feebly protect myself as the Reachman prepared to finish me off, but before the sword could be brought down, a Knight of the Dragon came to my rescue. The Knight flung himself at the Reachman, impaling his chest with a longsword. I do not know who rescued me that day, but the last things I remember from that battle is how his sword traced elegant circles through the air as he cut a swath through our enemies. How more and more of our soldiers joined the fray and the Reachmen broke, beginning to route en masse. Upon the sight of their retreating backs pursued by the forces of Daggerfall, darkness took me.
I learned later when I came to by the healer tending to my wound, that Durcorach had been slain and his army utterly crushed. Of course, what is not more commonly known, was that we spent months following the battle hunting down small groups of Reachmen that escaped the slaughter. Experience that would prove very useful to me in the future when dealing with practitioners of various forms of foul sorcery, for there was many such among the Witchmen. Of course, back then I had no idea where my path would eventually take me, rarely did my eyes look beyond the borders of High Rock. But that would change, in time.
Part Two; Servitude and Swirling Sands
The year was 2E 545 when I would finally embark on my first true journey and leave the gentle green hills of Glenumbra and the beautiful forests of Daenia behind me. It had been three years since Durcorach's invasion and the subsequent slaughter at the Gates of Daggerfall, and High Rock had prospered in a time of peace. Following the battle, a treaty had been signed between Wayrest, Daggerfall, Shornhelm, Evermore and Camlorn, the First Daggerfall Covenant. Historically, for all it's wealth and fertile soil, infighting has long plagued High Rock. The many kingdoms always attempting to increase their power at the expense of others. The old Breton saying "Find a new hill, become a king." is known to every child, and there is some truth to it. The Daggerfall Covenant was a treaty that ensured an effective end to the infighting, and a pledge that should High Rock be invaded again, all it's kingdoms would take up arms in defense of our homes. Of course there might be the occasional skirmish between the lesser nobility, but gone were the days of Breton armies tainting the Iliac bay with Breton blood.
In a shrewd diplomatic move, the Kingdom of Wayrest under King Gardner (advised by Emeric of Cumberland), returned Orsinium to the Orcs, their rugged ancestral homeland in the Wrothgarian mountains. Excluding our own people, undoubtedly the most bitter enemies of the Bretons have been the Orcs. They would come down from the mountains and raid villages, and we would send armies into their mountains to attempt to root them out. Orsinium had already been razed twice, though undoubtedly the bloodiest was during the legendary First Siege of Orsinium that lasted for thirty years and resulted in the utter destruction of the kingdom. Many great warriors fell in that siege, including the likes of the leader of the Order of Diagna, the great Redguard warrior Gaiden Shinji. Though these days he is more known for his proverbs rather than his actual exploits on the field of battle, still to this day "The best techniques are passed on by the survivors." is much loved by instructors of the sword.
Truth to be told, magnificient as they may be, the Wrothgarian mountains are largely barren. But the Orsimer thrive in those mountains, and more so than brutal enemies they are excellent craftsmen with an aptitude for metalworking. There was more to be gained from cooperation as opposed to incessant warfare. I myself hold no ill will towards the Orsimer, the fact that Daggerfall does not border Orsinium in any way meant the general animosity as lesser here than in Wayrest for example. However over time I have come to appreciate their tenacity and ability to endure hardships.
My journey would not take me north to Wrothgar however, instead it would take me east. I was assigned to protect an envoy of King Bergamot, who was sent to discuss matters of trade with the merchant lords among the Redguards of Hammerfell. Our path would take us by ship to the great Port of Sentinel, the and we would travel with an escort to Skaven, or Ska'vyn as it is also known. Sentinel was, and still is, the greatest city in the province and Hammerfell's foremost center of commerce, Skaven meanwhile sat at a strategic position in the center of Northern Hammerfell. As such is was an important crossroads for trade passing through Hammerfell and into Skyrim or Cyrodiil. For this was a safer route as opposed to trying to send caravans through the Reach.
Besides the envoy, Baron Theoderic of Phrygias, joining me would be nine Knights of the Dragon and as many squires, as well as a few of the Baron's servants. This wasn't the sort of grand visit where Kings met and discussed the future of their realms to the sound of fanfares while holding grand banquets. It was a, all things considered, relatively humble affair. Besides the other members, I was informed that a member of Daggerfall's Mages Guild would also join us, Adrienne Moorwing. The Mages Guild are a neutral Guild and refrain, at least for the most part, from interfering in political matters. An old friend of mine once jested that the reason behind this is that they have enough politics in the Guild itself to begin with already, and there is some truth to that. That being said there is still plenty of cooperation between the kingdoms and the Guild, in particular between the mages. Adrienne's reason for accompanying us was that she was doing research on the Ansei, the so-called Sword-Singers of old who could summon a Shehai - a sword made out of the summoner's very soul. The power of a Shehai was said to be so great, it is often claimed that the Shehai of an first rank Ansei sank the old Redguard continent of Yokuda. Though some still study the art, there are no more true Ansei left in the world that are capable of summoning a Shehai, leading to some scholars declaring them a myth and merely old superstition. Though such thoughts are uttered at your own peril in the presence of followers of the "Way of the Sword".
On the eve before the day of departure, I spent several hours walking the streets of Daggerfall, taking in the sights in silent contemplation. The wide streets and grand stone buildings in the around the Bank of Daggerfall, the huge market square in the Trade District where goods from all over Tamriel were bought and sold. I saw ships come and go from the great harbor, seagulls screeching overhead. As the sun was setting I gazed up on Castle Daggerfall, a beautiful and strong building with soaring towers that overlooked the city, the golden light reflecting of it's walls almost giving off the impression that it was made out of iron. It seemed to me that I was at the center of the beating heart of the world, for how many cities could compare with the grandeur of this place? High Rock was after all a center of trade, knowledge, famed for it's cuisine and craftsmen.
After I had broken my fast the next morning and rode down towards the harbor, I noted how preparations of Dancing Day, an important holiday here in Daggerfall, had begun. As per usual it would be a splendid affair with much merriment, though I would not get to see it this year. The ship assigned to us was called Dragon's Wing and was a splendid vessel, it was a partially refitted warship built for speed and the comfort a Royal Envoy could expect. I introduced myself to the knights, most of them were about as young as me, though the leader was a grizzled veteran, Sir Damian Branck. Sir Damian had fought in dozens of battles, with the scars to prove it, and despite that there was grey in his otherwise black hair and beard, he looked strong and wiry. For a Breton Knight, he was slightly uncouth in appearence and manners, but those standards are admittedly high. And he did behave well enough in the presence of nobility. For all his gruff appearence, his eyes twinkled with a cheeky sense of humor that was hard to detect at a quick glance. I took a liking to him almost instantly. He recognised me based on my appearence, for my father was often at court. And like my father, I had the height, raven black hair and bright blue eyes of a Virane.
Shortly after I arrived, Adrienne came walking. She was tall, slender and graceful. Her brown hair hanging freely, and her eyes the color of chestnut seemed to stun me, and they still do now when I think back on it. They were the kind of eyes that could make a man lose himself, and it seemed to me I had never seen a more beautiful woman. It was always hard to describe to those who had not met her, her face somehow seemed to radiate both warmth and honesty. Her laugh, I would later learn, had a warmth that drove away any darkness within like the brightest of suns. I remember it to this day, though it was long since I heard it last. She appeared young, in this case it was true for she was scarce older than me at the time, but appearences could be deceptive when it came to mages. Though of course, being a responsible man of noble blood. Aswell as being a Royal Battlemage with a great sense of duty for whom the mission always came first – I was naturally smitten with her almost immediately.
Noting my light armor and hooded cloak, she deduced I was the Battlemage of the group and offered me a nod and a gentle smile. Both of which I returned, before she approached Sir Damian, who was the appointed leader (excluding the Baron himself). The Baron Theoderic, a heavy man, albeit a clever one, joined us shortly. He offered a curt greeting to Sir Damian before retiring to his office in the ship's stern. With those extensive formalities out of the way, we set sail. I remember gazing back on Daggerfall as we left port, the great city on the hill, not knowing how long it would be before I would lay my eyes on her again. Then I turned them forwards, towards new horizons.
The waters of the Iliac Bay are usually rather tranquil, with the exception of during the fiercest of storms. The great waves of the Abecean Sea normally disappeared upon entry into the bay. And it's pleasant breeze is beloved by much of it's people, including the temperate climate it helps bring that characterises High Rock's sourthern parts. As per usual, there was plenty of ships at sea. Trading vessels, small fishing craft, and great warships patrolling for Corsairs. The keen-eyed could make out the faint silhouette of the Adamantine Tower far to the north. Back then I had no idea that Towers such as the Adamantine Tower would become a field of scholarly expertise of mine. Those magical structures, both natural and artificial, that transcended our world and helped it from falling into Oblivion. Like the great supporting beams upon this world stood. But more on that another time. It is more commonly known as Direnni Tower, courtesy of the family of Elves that once used to rule all of High Rock and still inhabit the Isle of Balfiera, upon which the Tower stands to this day.
It is the oldest known structure on continent (and one of the tallest), dating back thousands of years, and according to the lore from the Dawn Era, was where the Divines met and discussed the future of our world after it's creation. It was then, when I stood gazing upon it, when I first spoke to Adrienne, who joined me in the ship's prow. Complimenting me that I took an interest in such a thing, though quickly ruining the compliment with an added "For someone who's speciality is torching things.". I smiled and retorted with that I was surprised that someone who spent all their time reading old tomes could see so far, she laughed and I considered the matter settled. I had naturally done plenty of that myself, after all I had been tutored by a most adept old mage, but I wasn't about to refute my own response.
We had spent the day there, conversing, mainly about magic and Hammerfell's history. Though I learned quite a bit about her. She had never known her father, and had instead been raised by her mother who had been a servant to the Duke of Camlorn. As soon as she had come of age and it was clear she was magically gifted, she had joined the Mages Guild, seeing as it was either that or follow in her mother's footsteps. It was hard to say, but I thought I could see a hint of sadness in her eyes when I had spoken of my own childhood, and my family. One that had been much happier in comparison.
As dusk came, we bid eachother a good night, for both of us had preparations to do before the morning and our arrival in Sentinel. Though as I left, I felt a hollow sensation inside of me, one that I was unfamiliar with. I thought of it as a later fell asleep.
We arrived early the next day, I awoke during the early dawn as Sir Damian roused his squire from his sleep rather brusquely, by flipping the poor lad's hammock over. Much to the amusement of the men who were already awake. As I clambered up onto the deck, I inhaled the fresh morning air, the air was still slightly chilly from the night and drove the weariness from me. Then in the distance, like a mirage, I beheld one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen in my entire life. Out of the light of dawn, Sentinel seemingly arose. It's golden towers shimmering spectacularly. It was smaller than Daggerfall to be sure, but it had an exotic beauty that I had never seen before.
As we docked, the scent of exotic spices almost overwhelmed me, naturally I was familiar with them, but not with them dominating so. Though granted, as with every other port the smell of fish and human waste was also rather strong. Sir Damian had a quick conversation with the harbor master while Baron Theoderic looked thoroughly bored though he did his best to hide it, before the harbor master decided that our papers were in order. Four knights remained on the ship with their squires, and four departed with the Baron as he made his way to talk with a vizier. I was not needed for this part, the four knights would provide ample protection and Sentinel was already quite safe. My usefulness would come later, on the journey to Skaven, when there was a very real chance of encountering dangerours creatures, bandits or something in-between like goblin raiders.
This provided me with an opportunity to explore the city while the Baron spoke of tariffs and piracy with Sentinel officials. Adrienne departed first however, wanting to make a visit to the local Mages Guild Chapter before the journey would lead us on. She had agreed to come with us a part of the way, but would swing south about halfway there, instead travelling to Leki's Blade. Leki's Blade I would later learn was a sword school with ties to the Sword-Singers, supposedly founded by one.
One that was even less interested in remaining on the ship than I was, was Sir Damian. Though he would never admit it, even the calm waters of the Iliac Bay made his stomach churn. As I took my leave, he announced the need to stretch his legs and accompanied me. Now, mages in general are not particularly respected among the Redguards, and depending on what sort even loathed (though healers are welcome enough). Because of this I was grateful for Damian's company, for any ill will that would have been aimed towards me was dispelled at the sight of the knight's longsword.
We walked through the market, and I noticed with interest how Sentinel's main marketplace wasn't a square (like in Daggerfall or Wayrest for that matter), but a long street running through the city, with traders on both sides calling out wares to passing townsfolk. There was exotic spices, animals, exquisite carpets, jewelry, blades. I hazarded a guess that if there was a market for it here, traders would sell their own mothers for the right price. Sir Damian was actually genuinely interest in purchasing a Redguard sword, it was a curved blade and he surely reckoned it would look nice on his wall, but he balked at the price. Out of earshot from the seller he then promptly declared that the swords were pieces of shit anyway. Bridges ran overhead, and much of the street was covered in beautiful canopies to protect buyers and traders alike from the harsh sun of Hammerfell. Around the city there was elegant fountains and gardens with large fruit trees, under which townsfolk sat and gossiped over drinks during the hottest hours of the day. One man sat on a roof terrace and casually played an Alik'r flute (that I have quite forgotten the name of), it's long wailing tunes always seemingly waking a sense of mystery inside of me. As they hinted of secrets long-lost to the sands of the mighty Alik'r desert. Sentinel's palace, was just that. Unlike Castle Daggerfall, that was a fortress as well as a royal residence, Sentinel's palace was a beautiful building dominated by a great golden dome. It was built for beauty and pleasure, not to withstand a siege. Though to attack Sentinel, one would either have to send an army through the desert, or launch a naval invasion. And Sentinel, not only being one in it's own right, was on good terms with the premier naval powers in the Iliac Bay, Daggerfall and Wayrest.
We ate in the guest house that had been given to our party later that evening, with a vizier having arranged for food to be delivered. The Baron Theoderic was out enjoying the pleasures of the city, while the King saw the Baron as one of the most loyal of men, Sir Damian confided in me that he was not sure that the Baron's wife would agree. Adrienne joined us later as the sun was setting over the city, the air cool but still pleasantly warm, and we share our meal with her. Redguard food is one that tends to grow on you, but to one who had grown up with the more sophisticated Breton cuisine... It, to put it mildly, felt as if the Red Mountain itself had erupted in my mouth. Sir Damian's squire, Frederic, was quite amused. Though my annoyed glance, aswell as the assault upon his own mouth upon his first bite removed the grin from his lips. Sir Damian had been here before and chuckled at us first-timers, and dug in. Though I did notice he stayed well-clear of a certain meat skewered on small sticks, there was limits to even his tolerance.
Adrienne fared about as well as me and Frederic, almost choking on her first bite and was forced to wash it down. After having eaten at many different places in Hammerfell following this, I have come to the conclusion that though not completely out of character, some of the cooks have been playing a long and elaborate prank on foreign dignitaries. Their entourage in particular. I could imagine the chefs, knowing how the inexperienced people it is for, struggling to contain their laughter as they add just a bit more spice to what is already severely powerful for the first-timer. When you get over the initial shock however, you come to appreciate the nuances to it. How they can be spicy, sweet and fresh at the same time. As I have always only been a chef of necessity, I encourage anyone further interested in Hammerfell cuisine to try it for themselves, or purchase a book that was actually written with the purpose of the culinary arts of the region.
Sir Damian kept us entertained with stories of battles, and Frederic proved to be an able lute-player. Apparently he had aspired to be a bard, but his father had thought otherwise. I shared a few stories of my own, one that Adrienne was particularly fond of is the explanation of something that baffles mages to this day. During the months following the battle against the wild host of the Black Drake, as I explained earlier we were forced to hunt down Reachmen warbands who had escaped the slaughter. The brash young man that I was, I had decided to open a portal up on a hill from which I would have a good vantage point to study the surrounding terrain from. The only problem with this idea is that the same brilliant choice of a spot had come to the leader of the very Reachman warband I was tracking.
I think it is sufficient to say that when I suddenly appeared on top of a sleeping Reachman, in the middle of their camp. While I did manage to silence the Reachman I had fallen on with the tip of my sword, it was not before he had screamed in alarm. And I was forced to make a rather quick exit at breakneck speed down the very steep slopes of the hill. Arrows and curses sizzling all around me. As sure in my own power as I was back then, there were limits. To this day I still do not trust portals, or really any means of teleportation. It seems to me as if you dive into murky waters, not knowing if you will land safely or be impaled on a sharp stone upon impact. To this day the only means of teleportation I use, is the established routes between Guildhalls of the Mages Guild. Or in a time of great need, where speed if of the essence.
All three of my companions were positively howling with laughter as I detailed how I had been forced to report this to a superior, imitating my Captain's look of astonishment. Even the normally harsh-looking Sir Damian struggling for breath. I found my gaze wandering over to Adrienne, who looked even more stunning in the light of the setting sun. There had been other women in my life, but never one that had truly made me feel something, but this young mage with her brilliant laugh had in a mere day.
We remained in Sentinel for three days before it was time to depart for Skaven, I had used the time to spend the time training with mages from the local Mages Guild, whereas Adrienne had holed herself up in the city's library, studying old Redguard lore. Already in my early twenties, I was a relatively adept sorcerer all-around. But given my profession and innate power, I was (I can admit even now that I am older) a rather capable and powerful Battlemage in my own right. I certainly thought of myself so, and I was respected by my peers, but I still had much to learn. And I took chances whereever I journeyed to improve upon these skills, I have found that even in remote villages, there is always something useful to be learned. Whether it is from a local village wizard, or an Archmagister of the Crystal Tower in Alinor. This would be one of the main reasons that drove me on the journeys it did, though that is still some time in the future.
Besides myself and Adrienne. On the journey to Skaven there would be six Knights of the Dragon and as many squires, and the King of Sentinel had seen fit to grant us two guides that would lead us to and from Skaven. They were lightly armored and carried smaller bows that could be fired from horseback. Given the terrain we would have to traverse, horses would not be an option, instead we would travel using camels. I had seen camels once or twice before, yet never ridden one. They are strong and patient creatures that can go for days without water. They seemed to have more patience than the fiery steeds I was used to, but can be surprisingly headstrong. I liked them well enough, and they are comfortable to sit on during longer journeys. Besides those that we rode on, a few additional camels carried the heavy armor and other equipment of the knights. For spending days in the saddle in plate armor was not an option in the Alik'r, unless you wanted to roast inside it.
As we rode out through the city gates, I was amazed what lay before me. I had yet to look beyond the city walls, believing Sentinel to be surrounded by farmland. It was, but not much of it. Before me I saw the great sand dunes of the Alik'r, dark cliffs towered over them in the distance. There was large basins with canopies over, that leaned inwards and was used to catch rain for the city's water supply, and a few lone patches of palm trees. But after a mere few hundred paces, besides the odd dry bush or small bundle of palm trees, there was little to no sign of life. All that lay before us now was sand, rocks, and more sand. The wind having shaped the dunes into elegant waves in what looked like a stormy sea, frozen in time. I looked back and saw Sentinel with it's golden domes shimmer in the heat, almost dancing as the hot air played tricks on our eyes, and I knew that the wide world was ahead of me. What perils and strange creatures would lay in our path on the way to Skaven I did not know, but I had the feeling that I would not return the same young man that I was.
Part Three; Blood and Dunes
As much as I do enjoy visiting the Province of Hammerfell I can with confidence say that I have never quite gotten used to the harsh sun. To me, a Breton who had been raised in the temperate green hills of Glenumbra, the Alik'r seemed as hot as the Ashlands in Vvardenfell where the ground spewed forth molten stone. Of course, I knew little of those lands at the time. That would change eventually, but that was many years from this point. Do not get me wrong, the deserts of Alik'r are beautiful and the winds seem to have a life of their own, shaping the sands into beautiful patterns. It is a peaceful and truly untouched part of nature, with the exceptions of a few ruins half-swallowed by sand and time. The great dunes stretch as far as the eyes can see, the horizon shimmering in the far distance. However the sun is ever-present and unrelenting during the day, and the nights are surprisingly cold. It is I placed a magical charm upon myself to ward off the blunt of it, my fair skin not suited for the climate. The Knights of the Dragon had all donned white hoods to shield themselves, and each of us wore linen with long sleeves. The Knights and Squires wore a mail shirt also, for for there was always a risk of attack. Now, the inexperienced might wonder why one would wear long sleeves when it is so warm. Truth is that it is to keep moisture besides the obvious shield against the sun. The water you have is the water you carry, and it is not wise to sweat more than necessary.
The weather was clear the first day, and we thankfully avoided any of the legendary sandstorms of the region. What we did see however was the local apex predator of the region, Dunerippers. They are native to the western Alik'r, and are large reptiles that can grow to the size of a small horse with armored plates that cover their backs. Besides being able to burrow themselves into the sand with ease, our guides warned that they were deceptively fast, able to rip a man to shreds in mere moments. Their blood did fetch a high prize in the market, but no one among us was in particular need of gold.
Quite surprisingly, the Baron Theoderic of Phrygias was one of those who seemed to be best off. Though worth mentioning is that he wore no protection but a sword at his side, nontheless I realised this was not his first time here. Sir Damian Branck was likewise not too fazed, but he didn't exactly look thrilled either. Our camels didn't mind the heat, they simply trudged on happily. Because Skaven, or Ska'vyn as our Redguard guides called it, lay at the edge of the Dragonstar mountains we would not be forced to cross the great plains of the Alik'r that lay to the east. Instead we would travel through more rocky terrain, where water and shelter from the sun was less scarce. There was also more shelter for prying eyes.
When we made camp that evening, we did not think that lightning a fire would be an issue. Regular bandits would not dare attack such a large and armed party, in particular when it was obvious it was no trading caravan. We made several to keep the chill night air of the Alik'r at bay, from dried trees found along the steep cliffs, and spread our blankets upon the ground. Attempting to find the sand most void of rocks that was quite pleasant to sleep on. We posted several guards naturally, but did not deem it necessary to place any magical protective charms on our camp.
They came for us in the night, the Alik'r warriors were used to moving without making a sound on the sands. The sentries had been taken by surprise as shrouded warriors broke cover and fell upon them, so quickly that they barely had time to draw their swords. I have always been a light sleeper, but it had been impossible to sleep through that noise. The warriors screamed hate as they overwhelmed the guards and made their way into the camp, attacking our soldiers who were still dazed from sleeping. But the Knights of the Dragon are some of the finest fighters in High Rock, even if most of them were not armored at the moment they were still dangerous opponents. I rolled out of my blanket and got to my feet, my hands ablaze with magefire, just in time to see a Knight parry a quick blow from a scimitar. The Knight redirected the thrust the Alik'r warrior had aimed, and immediately changed direction of his cut, opening the belly of the Redguard who screamed as his entrails spilled out over the sands.
In the soft light of the fires, the fighting was almost hopelessly confused. Ironically, the hoods that the Redguard warriors had used to help them disguise themselves, helped us see who was friend and who was foe. I sent a blast of fire at a group of advancing warriors, coming in from where the death of a Knight had opened a gap in our lines. The magic fire made a strange hissing sound as it flew from my hands, and slammed into the two first warriors with an unnatural force, as if they had been struck by a tidal wave. The magical flames stuck to flesh, causing horrible burns and incinerating those who took the blunt of it in mere moments.
I had to exercise caution, for it was easy as a battlemage, in particular a powerful one such as myself, to cause as much damage to your own army as the enemy. To my right, an Alik'r warrior disarmed a squire and knocked him to the ground, and I used the opportunity to blast the man to cinders with a lightning bolt. The bolt crackled from my hands, leaving a metallic taste on the air, and exploded with a defeaning sound of a thunderclap upon impact. Somewhere behind me, I could both hear and feel a blast of magical energy and the screams of a man, and I assumed it was Adrienne – but I had no time to dwell on it. The Baron called out an order and his mighty voice cut through the chaos of battle like a knife through butter, and we did our best to fall back to the cliffs to form a defensive crecent. There was at least two score of our enemies, possibly more. Over a dozen men lay dead on the ground and equally as many were wounded. Of our men I estimated it to be less than a score still in fighting condition. The Knights were hard pressed, standing a few feet apart and doing their best to hold the line against the swift blades of our foes. Had they had time to equip their armor it would have been an easy victory, but we did not have such time. If there was any chance of victory, I knew it lay with our magic. Meaning mostly mine.
The Redguards scrambled to get out of the way as I unleashed my full fury upon them. My figure seemingly swirling with lightning as I unleashed several thunderbolts against them, cutting through their ranks like a bolt fired from a ballista and incinerating all those in their way. It was as I prepared to unleash more of the magefire that their sorcerer revealed himself. The sands suddenly seemed to have a will of their own as I unleashed a torrent of fire, winds driving up the sand into a wall that came hurtling at me, the flames quenched upon impact. It was a powerful counterspell, and one that I had not anticipated. I did manage to raise a ward, but it had been too late to make a strong one. The ward shattered upon impact and the firm wall of sand slammed into me, I suppose that I was thrown into the cliffs behind me for I recall nothing more of the battle.
When I came to, I found that my hands had been bound with enchanted shackles that prevented me from casting any spells. The oppressive magic of the steel making me feel nauseous, and though I could not touch it I felt dried blood on the back of my head. Where I could only assume I had hit my head on the rocks. There was only about ten of us left, the men sitting back to back and tied together with ropes. I saw Adrienne, she had a cut on her arm and was visibly bruised, but otherwise all things considered looked unscathed. Sir Damian was alive too, though he looked worse and had an ugly cut under his eye. His gaze was filled with hate and sorrow, and I tracked his eyes and saw the body of Frederic, his squire. I had seen a lot of death, but I too felt an empty sensation inside of me as I saw the young man, who only an hour ago had been so full of life. Now he lay gazing lifelessly up on the stars. His throat had been opened with a vicious cut that looked something like a sick and twisted smile.
I studied our captors, they were lightly armored which was typical for Redguards, and almost all carried scimitars and small shields. Though a few carried heavier weapons. Then my eyes fell upon one of them, someone who stood out to me for he was the only one who carried a staff. None of our foes wore any emblems and neither did he, all that I did know about the man was that he was a powerful sorcerer. And that I would slaughter him mercilessly and feed his corpse to Dunerippers, or so I silently pledged to Stendarr who's sphere included that of justice. The Sorcerer wore long robes and had a sword by his side, and carried himself with supreme arrogance. Though I noticed that the warriors did not exactly look upon him with reverence, rather a cautious kind of disdain. Redguards have never particularly liked or trusted mages, especially not the dwellers of the Alik'r were their Old Ways were stronger. I could only assume that it was fear and the understanding that he was an asset that kept them from making any remarks.
The Sorcerer was not the leader however, that authority seemed to lie with another man about the same age. Like the Sorcerer he too carried himself with extreme confidence. It was well deserved however, for I had seen him cut down three Knights in the battle. My mind was racing, I was sure that the only reason we were being kept alive right now was that they had yet to decide if we could be of any use to them. There was always the possibility for ransom, but I had my doubts about that. This did not seem like an attack of that nature. What we needed was time, first of all I needed to unmake whatever magic was woven into my iron metal shackles. Then we needed to make our escape. Our camels were still there and unharmed, so were our saddlebags and supplies next to them. As it stood we were outnumbered by more than three-to-one and we stood no hope of defeating our enemies. Sir Damian had come to the same conclusion, or perhaps he simply did not care anymore. For he began to taunt their leader. He called him a coward, a brigand with no honor. A Redguard struck him hard, but he continued. Then he uttered a sentence that caused the Redguards present to flinch with anger; "Are you only capable of murdering boys in the night? I wonder what your ancestors would think of you, or were they too snakes sold their dignity to the highest bidder?"
The dead were sacred to the Redguard people, and to insult them, in particular someone's ancestor was one of the worst insults they could possibly think of. It had the desired effect. The leader's eyes flared with hate and he drew his blade so fast that it was hard to track it's movement. He growled "Basir, free him and give him a sword. You will die for that mongrel.", aiming the last sentence towards Sir Damian.
Sir Damian's movements were slightly labored as he got up, stiff from being bound and bruised from the battle. But as he gripped his longsword he looked fierce. He looked like a man with nothing to lose, that would embrace death with a smile on his face. But his eyes were not the eyes of a man that hade given up, they were the eyes of a cold and calculating predator studying it's prey.
By now I was working fiercely, my magic straining against the enchantment placed upon the shackles that bound me. Unfortunately however, the mage behind the enchantment was clearly not a bumbling hedgewizard. And I for all my talent and innate power was still inexperienced. My eyes flickered up as I heard the first clash of metal on metal. Their leader, who's name I still did not know, looked confident and calm. He held his scimitar above his head and circled Damian carefully, who in turn was slighlty bent forward and crouched, sword held in front of him in a plow guard.
The Redguard attacked, I myself had great difficulty tracking his blade as he swung it downwards only to deftly change the angle of the cut at the last second. Sir Damian almost fell for it, only managing to parry the cut at the last second, saved by his crossguard. Instantly, Damian retaliated, advancing with a thrust and following up with a cut. The Redguard danced out of the way, and seemed as light on his feet as if he was walking on wind. The combatants clashed again and again. I found myself enthralled by the display of swordsmanship. It was clear that The Redguard was the more refined fighter of the two, but Damian was quick enough to at least keep up. And he was heavier and stronger. This was the reason why the Redguard made sure to remain firmly on the outside, not willing to engage in a clinch with the knight. It was a dance of death were one mistake would surely mean death. They parried, swung, blocked and thrust with exceptional speed. Sweat on their brows and both breathing heavily. Damian had already sustained two smaller cuts, one on his arm and the other on his calf.
Just as the duel seemed to be slowing down, the Reduard unleashed a furious series of attacks at Damian. His blade seemed to swirl around him as he drove the knight backwards, who in turn barely seemed to be able to block and parry the blows. Damian was edging ever closer to the cliffs, but then I realised it had been his intention. As he got near, he suddenly kicked off from the stone. Launching himself forward with a violent thrust. The Redguard was caught off-guar and stumbled backwards. Unrelenting, Damian swung his longsword with such power that it knocked the scimitar aside. Instead of pulling back to get the distance needed to swing again, the knight slammed the point of his elbow into the temple of the Alik'r swordsman, using the arm in which he held the sword.
The Redguard stumbled from the violent force of the blow, and Damian now did step back, and swung again. The longsword cut deep and almost severed the man's neck, painting the sand red with a spray of blood. For a time no one spoke. Our foes had been so sure of their victory. But this could only end one way. We were outnumbered and and bound so that we could not fight. Only one of us carried a weapon, and he was both tired and wounded. I doubted Sir Damian cared much, he had achieved some vengeance against our enemies.
Suddenly, there was a soft thunder of hooves in the distance and I could not help myself but to laugh. This must surely be the downside of an ambush in a pass used by many nomads, the risk of discovery was considerable. And our battle had made significant noise. Something came to me, that often nomads would travel when it was dark and cool, preferring to rest during the scorching days. Our resistance and Damian's duel must have bought enough time for some outrider to get word back to his group, and it was a matter of honour to help those in danger for many Redguards.
During the duel, I myself had tried a different approach to the shackles. Subtlety over brute force is what discerns a skilled mage from a common village wizard, and the shackles finally came off when I managed to indentify a weak spot in the spell. However as I was not quite used to this sort of magic, it had drained me quite considerably. Using the element of surprise I cast a curse at their sorcerer. It wasn't the sort of flaring and intimidating magic that I had cast before, one that was meant to frighten enemies and cause great harm. The spell seemed to bend the air around it as it slammed into the chest of the sorcerer, who had been looking elsewhere. Stopping his heart in a mere instant. It was no glorious duel where magical energies melted the ground between the duellists, it had been a surprise attack against a distracted opponent. But I wished to live, not be serenaded by poets and I could not afford to risk anything as weakened as I was. At this however, the Alik'r warriors fled. For they did not wish to be caught in the open against the incoming riders, and they had lost both their leader and mage.
Later, much later. I heard in a sermon that this had been the intervention of the Divines. That Mara in her great mercy had sent those nomads, for they had been nomads. But the truth was we were just fortunate, and they had been fools for remaining at the scene of the ambush too long. We have had suspiscions about whether or not they had been hired. For the Crowns had never been much fond of us Bretons, and soured relations between the Forebear Sentinel and Daggerfall would have aided them. But it is just as possible we were simply unlucky. We had seen through the mission in the end. But it had been in low spirits. For a great many good men had died. The remainder of the journey had been uneventful, and few men spoke. I was made sadder by the departure of Adrienne with the nomads, heading southwards. Even seeing the old city and the exotic Dragontail mountains had done little to better my mood. I would return to this region later, and I can still today vividly remember it's scattered ancient towers overlooking deep ravines. The vegetation hanging on to the sides of steep cliffs, and all manner of strange goods passing through. The Baron negotiated for a few days with Skaven officials and the Dragonstar Caravan Company, but none felt inclined to go off exploring.
We took the same route back, this time taking care to travel with a caravan heading to Sentinel, and it was rather uneventful besides a harpy stealing some food off a wagon. Before parting with Sir Damian Branck on the docks of Daggerfall, he shared a few words that have stuck with me to this day; "All we can ever do is choose the path we feel is right for us, no matter where it leads. A life lived being too afraid to pursue what matters to you is not a life worth living. Frederic knew that, so did every man that died in that desert.". Sir Damian was never a particularly great thinker, but those words are among those who have had the most profound impact on my life. And my path would lead me far and wide.
)(The artwork is for anyone who is not familiar with the region, it is not my creation)
The Journeys of a Wandering Wizard – Part One; War and Duty
War. The unending game for children and kings alike. To a young man of noble blood in particular, it can be seen as life's greatest adventure. A chance to win eternal glory on the battlefield alongside proud knights, mayhaps even win the hand of a fair maiden. This is perhaps true, however it is so much more. I am older now, and being the survivor of two wars I can say that it is more than adventure. It is also a terrible noise, screaming and metal colliding. It is smells, of burning and blood. It is fear, fear for your own life and that of your brothers-in-arms and loved ones. It is seeing, seeing beautiful things brought low and destroyed, dear friends fall before your eyes. I know this now, yet I would not choose a different path had I the option to go back in time. Until Tamriel is rid of those who would seek to gain wealth and power by taking it through cruel war, it lies with those who have the capability to do so to defend their homes and everything they hold dear, to take up arms. Until the day my legs can no longer carry me, I will defend my beloved Daggerfall from anyone who would seek to destroy her, and I will lay evil to waste wherever I find it. For such is the duty of a true Battlemage.
My name is Alator Virane, I was born as the second son of the late Lord Gerard Virane in the venerable Kingdom of Daggerfall. My House is an old one, dating well back into the First Era. Albeit not particularly powerful, it has made a fair fortune through trade in sapphires (the reason House Virane still boasts a dark blue color on our banners), and it carries respect in the city, mainly because it's long history in politics. Many a councillor, knight and mage has come from the Virane family. Because I as the second son would not inherit, it fell upon me to find another path. It became clear at a young age that I possessed a strong aptitude for the arcane arts, not particularly surprising as my House has produced quite a few great mages throughout it's history. Because of this, and simply because he wanted his sons to further the Virane legacy, my father saw to that I began receiving proper tutoring as soon as I showed signs of magical aptitude. Naturally besides the more common subjects for children of Noble blood, such as learning the art of numbers, reading and history. Though I admit, the fact that I accidentally set an expensive carpet on fire at the age of six may have aided his eagerness in providing me with lessons to control my gift.
With a decade of magical studies, I was already a relatively accomplished mage when I entered the service of the King of Daggerfall at the age of seventeen as a Battlemage. Though without any real experience, I already thought of myself as invincible with the sort of hubris that only young and unbloodied soldiers have. My ideas would soon be tested in the fires of war however, not even a year after I signed up. From the mountains of the east came a horde of Reachmen under Durcorach the Black Drake, who swept across Bangkorai with the fury of a tidal wave and overran it completely. We received word in Daggerfall that Evermore had fallen after merely a few days, it's people slaughtered. Soon the Reachman army marched upon Wayrest, however the sprawling Trading Port was a far stronger opponent than Evermore had been. Lacking siege engines, the savages could not breach the newly built walls, and the attempts to storming them were beaten back. Starving them out was no option for Durcorach, for in this war, High Rock's kingdoms even on their own reigned supreme on the Iliac Bay. He had no ships to stop supplies, and after almost sixty days of siege, a token force was left behind and the Reachman moved on burning and pillaging into Glenumbra.
Camlorn's defenders fought bravely, however the new city-state soon fell to the onslaught of the Reachmen. It's streets ran with blood as it was sacked with severe brutality. Yet the Longhouse Emperor was not done there, his eyes was set on a far greater prize than Camlorn. Daggerfall readied for war. Though no longer the sole dominant power in the province with monopoly on trade, Daggerfall remained the most powerful of the Breton kingdoms, and it's ancient walls would not fall easily.
A steady stream of refugees came to the city over the next few days, filling the city to it's brim. As the great savage host of Reachmen, seemingly stretching all the way to the horizon, gathered before our walls. We defenders steeled ourselves for what would undoubtedly be a fierce battle. Durcorach needed to take our city, for if not, he would be trapped between the two preeminent powers of High Rock, Wayrest and Daggerfall. Perhaps he trusted in that the rift between our Kingdoms was too deep, for little love was lost between Daggerfall and Wayrest, but he would be proven wrong that day.
As the morning sun rose upon our great city, the city walls were bristling with archers, their armor glittering like stars in the light. Mages moved among them, ready to reign down fire on the enemy host. I myself was at the gate, for this would be where the hammer would fall. Ranks of Knights of the Dragon, the proud knightly order of Daggerfall, stood at the front. Clad in heavy armor, they were the finest fighters in the Kingdom, and would break and turn away the invaders as a rock would a wave, should they manage to force their way through the gate. Behind them stood more infantry, preparing to support the Knights should the number of savages prove overwhelming.
Surprising to us defenders, the fighting did not begin at the gate, not even really in the shadow of our walls. Heavy Lance Cavalry led by now High King Emeric fell upon the Reachmen from the rear, taking the army by surprise. I did not see the charge, but the sound of battle was so overwhelming that the men on the walls struggled to be heard over the sound of the cavalry charge. Our great King, Bergamot, who was present at the gates saw this opportunity to decisively crush the invaders and ordered the gates to be opened. The might of Daggerfall would sally out and Durcorach's army would be crushed between the hammer and the anvil.
The great gates were opened and like a tidal wave of metal, the defenders fell upon the surprised invaders with a fury that even surpassed their savagery. The charge, spearheaded by the Knights of the Dragon, crushed through the Reachmen ranks. I myself was not too far behind, yet fierce as our charge had been. The battle was not yet over. Though losing, the Reachmen were not yet beaten, and all our soldiers had not yet been committed to the battlefield, bottlenecked by the gate the same way that the invaders would have been. Thus as our forces pushed ever deeper into the Reachmen lines, we soon found ourselves fighting on three sides. I blasted apart many a Reachman with fire and lighting, as a Battlemage I focused especially on the sorcerers among them, it did not take long for me to come across them. The Reachmen employed foul sorcery to attempt to halt our advances, yet our mages responded with magic of our own viciously. Despite how little time had really passed, the ground was already littered with the bodies of dead and dying, the battlelines had grown somewhat intermingled as Breton fought Reachman in a confusing clash of men. The ground was wet with blood, and men screamed in pain as they desperately clung to their life that was pouring out out them and into the earth from gaping wounds. I came across one of their sorcerers and engaged him in a fierce duel, believing he was no match for me I fought as such, with reckless aggression. Possibly not expecting this, I seemed to catch my opponent by surprise and struck him down with a bolt of lightning, much to the dismay of the Reachmen around him. Truth to be told I was a brave young fool back then, already so sure in my own power, but life has yet to show me the error of my ways.
Already drunk on victory, I failed to see the Reachmen crashing through our line to my left. A last desperate counterattack. If I had not seen him at the last second and raised my arm to attempt a spell, his sword would likely have buried itself in my neck, instead it struck me in the shoulder with vicious intent, sending me into the ground among the fallen. The sword I carried was still in my scabbard, as I had not seen fit to draw it when I had magic to aid me. Already feeling the warmth of my blood running over my arm and chest, I raised my right arm to feebly protect myself as the Reachman prepared to finish me off, but before the sword could be brought down, a Knight of the Dragon came to my rescue. The Knight flung himself at the Reachman, impaling his chest with a longsword. I do not know who rescued me that day, but the last things I remember from that battle is how his sword traced elegant circles through the air as he cut a swath through our enemies. How more and more of our soldiers joined the fray and the Reachmen broke, beginning to route en masse. Upon the sight of their retreating backs pursued by the forces of Daggerfall, darkness took me.
I learned later when I came to by the healer tending to my wound, that Durcorach had been slain and his army utterly crushed. Of course, what is not more commonly known, was that we spent months following the battle hunting down small groups of Reachmen that escaped the slaughter. Experience that would prove very useful to me in the future when dealing with practitioners of various forms of foul sorcery, for there was many such among the Witchmen. Of course, back then I had no idea where my path would eventually take me, rarely did my eyes look beyond the borders of High Rock. But that would change, in time.
Part Two; Servitude and Swirling Sands
The year was 2E 545 when I would finally embark on my first true journey and leave the gentle green hills of Glenumbra and the beautiful forests of Daenia behind me. It had been three years since Durcorach's invasion and the subsequent slaughter at the Gates of Daggerfall, and High Rock had prospered in a time of peace. Following the battle, a treaty had been signed between Wayrest, Daggerfall, Shornhelm, Evermore and Camlorn, the First Daggerfall Covenant. Historically, for all it's wealth and fertile soil, infighting has long plagued High Rock. The many kingdoms always attempting to increase their power at the expense of others. The old Breton saying "Find a new hill, become a king." is known to every child, and there is some truth to it. The Daggerfall Covenant was a treaty that ensured an effective end to the infighting, and a pledge that should High Rock be invaded again, all it's kingdoms would take up arms in defense of our homes. Of course there might be the occasional skirmish between the lesser nobility, but gone were the days of Breton armies tainting the Iliac bay with Breton blood.
In a shrewd diplomatic move, the Kingdom of Wayrest under King Gardner (advised by Emeric of Cumberland), returned Orsinium to the Orcs, their rugged ancestral homeland in the Wrothgarian mountains. Excluding our own people, undoubtedly the most bitter enemies of the Bretons have been the Orcs. They would come down from the mountains and raid villages, and we would send armies into their mountains to attempt to root them out. Orsinium had already been razed twice, though undoubtedly the bloodiest was during the legendary First Siege of Orsinium that lasted for thirty years and resulted in the utter destruction of the kingdom. Many great warriors fell in that siege, including the likes of the leader of the Order of Diagna, the great Redguard warrior Gaiden Shinji. Though these days he is more known for his proverbs rather than his actual exploits on the field of battle, still to this day "The best techniques are passed on by the survivors." is much loved by instructors of the sword.
Truth to be told, magnificient as they may be, the Wrothgarian mountains are largely barren. But the Orsimer thrive in those mountains, and more so than brutal enemies they are excellent craftsmen with an aptitude for metalworking. There was more to be gained from cooperation as opposed to incessant warfare. I myself hold no ill will towards the Orsimer, the fact that Daggerfall does not border Orsinium in any way meant the general animosity as lesser here than in Wayrest for example. However over time I have come to appreciate their tenacity and ability to endure hardships.
My journey would not take me north to Wrothgar however, instead it would take me east. I was assigned to protect an envoy of King Bergamot, who was sent to discuss matters of trade with the merchant lords among the Redguards of Hammerfell. Our path would take us by ship to the great Port of Sentinel, the and we would travel with an escort to Skaven, or Ska'vyn as it is also known. Sentinel was, and still is, the greatest city in the province and Hammerfell's foremost center of commerce, Skaven meanwhile sat at a strategic position in the center of Northern Hammerfell. As such is was an important crossroads for trade passing through Hammerfell and into Skyrim or Cyrodiil. For this was a safer route as opposed to trying to send caravans through the Reach.
Besides the envoy, Baron Theoderic of Phrygias, joining me would be nine Knights of the Dragon and as many squires, as well as a few of the Baron's servants. This wasn't the sort of grand visit where Kings met and discussed the future of their realms to the sound of fanfares while holding grand banquets. It was a, all things considered, relatively humble affair. Besides the other members, I was informed that a member of Daggerfall's Mages Guild would also join us, Adrienne Moorwing. The Mages Guild are a neutral Guild and refrain, at least for the most part, from interfering in political matters. An old friend of mine once jested that the reason behind this is that they have enough politics in the Guild itself to begin with already, and there is some truth to that. That being said there is still plenty of cooperation between the kingdoms and the Guild, in particular between the mages. Adrienne's reason for accompanying us was that she was doing research on the Ansei, the so-called Sword-Singers of old who could summon a Shehai - a sword made out of the summoner's very soul. The power of a Shehai was said to be so great, it is often claimed that the Shehai of an first rank Ansei sank the old Redguard continent of Yokuda. Though some still study the art, there are no more true Ansei left in the world that are capable of summoning a Shehai, leading to some scholars declaring them a myth and merely old superstition. Though such thoughts are uttered at your own peril in the presence of followers of the "Way of the Sword".
On the eve before the day of departure, I spent several hours walking the streets of Daggerfall, taking in the sights in silent contemplation. The wide streets and grand stone buildings in the around the Bank of Daggerfall, the huge market square in the Trade District where goods from all over Tamriel were bought and sold. I saw ships come and go from the great harbor, seagulls screeching overhead. As the sun was setting I gazed up on Castle Daggerfall, a beautiful and strong building with soaring towers that overlooked the city, the golden light reflecting of it's walls almost giving off the impression that it was made out of iron. It seemed to me that I was at the center of the beating heart of the world, for how many cities could compare with the grandeur of this place? High Rock was after all a center of trade, knowledge, famed for it's cuisine and craftsmen.
After I had broken my fast the next morning and rode down towards the harbor, I noted how preparations of Dancing Day, an important holiday here in Daggerfall, had begun. As per usual it would be a splendid affair with much merriment, though I would not get to see it this year. The ship assigned to us was called Dragon's Wing and was a splendid vessel, it was a partially refitted warship built for speed and the comfort a Royal Envoy could expect. I introduced myself to the knights, most of them were about as young as me, though the leader was a grizzled veteran, Sir Damian Branck. Sir Damian had fought in dozens of battles, with the scars to prove it, and despite that there was grey in his otherwise black hair and beard, he looked strong and wiry. For a Breton Knight, he was slightly uncouth in appearence and manners, but those standards are admittedly high. And he did behave well enough in the presence of nobility. For all his gruff appearence, his eyes twinkled with a cheeky sense of humor that was hard to detect at a quick glance. I took a liking to him almost instantly. He recognised me based on my appearence, for my father was often at court. And like my father, I had the height, raven black hair and bright blue eyes of a Virane.
Shortly after I arrived, Adrienne came walking. She was tall, slender and graceful. Her brown hair hanging freely, and her eyes the color of chestnut seemed to stun me, and they still do now when I think back on it. They were the kind of eyes that could make a man lose himself, and it seemed to me I had never seen a more beautiful woman. It was always hard to describe to those who had not met her, her face somehow seemed to radiate both warmth and honesty. Her laugh, I would later learn, had a warmth that drove away any darkness within like the brightest of suns. I remember it to this day, though it was long since I heard it last. She appeared young, in this case it was true for she was scarce older than me at the time, but appearences could be deceptive when it came to mages. Though of course, being a responsible man of noble blood. Aswell as being a Royal Battlemage with a great sense of duty for whom the mission always came first – I was naturally smitten with her almost immediately.
Noting my light armor and hooded cloak, she deduced I was the Battlemage of the group and offered me a nod and a gentle smile. Both of which I returned, before she approached Sir Damian, who was the appointed leader (excluding the Baron himself). The Baron Theoderic, a heavy man, albeit a clever one, joined us shortly. He offered a curt greeting to Sir Damian before retiring to his office in the ship's stern. With those extensive formalities out of the way, we set sail. I remember gazing back on Daggerfall as we left port, the great city on the hill, not knowing how long it would be before I would lay my eyes on her again. Then I turned them forwards, towards new horizons.
The waters of the Iliac Bay are usually rather tranquil, with the exception of during the fiercest of storms. The great waves of the Abecean Sea normally disappeared upon entry into the bay. And it's pleasant breeze is beloved by much of it's people, including the temperate climate it helps bring that characterises High Rock's sourthern parts. As per usual, there was plenty of ships at sea. Trading vessels, small fishing craft, and great warships patrolling for Corsairs. The keen-eyed could make out the faint silhouette of the Adamantine Tower far to the north. Back then I had no idea that Towers such as the Adamantine Tower would become a field of scholarly expertise of mine. Those magical structures, both natural and artificial, that transcended our world and helped it from falling into Oblivion. Like the great supporting beams upon this world stood. But more on that another time. It is more commonly known as Direnni Tower, courtesy of the family of Elves that once used to rule all of High Rock and still inhabit the Isle of Balfiera, upon which the Tower stands to this day.
It is the oldest known structure on continent (and one of the tallest), dating back thousands of years, and according to the lore from the Dawn Era, was where the Divines met and discussed the future of our world after it's creation. It was then, when I stood gazing upon it, when I first spoke to Adrienne, who joined me in the ship's prow. Complimenting me that I took an interest in such a thing, though quickly ruining the compliment with an added "For someone who's speciality is torching things.". I smiled and retorted with that I was surprised that someone who spent all their time reading old tomes could see so far, she laughed and I considered the matter settled. I had naturally done plenty of that myself, after all I had been tutored by a most adept old mage, but I wasn't about to refute my own response.
We had spent the day there, conversing, mainly about magic and Hammerfell's history. Though I learned quite a bit about her. She had never known her father, and had instead been raised by her mother who had been a servant to the Duke of Camlorn. As soon as she had come of age and it was clear she was magically gifted, she had joined the Mages Guild, seeing as it was either that or follow in her mother's footsteps. It was hard to say, but I thought I could see a hint of sadness in her eyes when I had spoken of my own childhood, and my family. One that had been much happier in comparison.
As dusk came, we bid eachother a good night, for both of us had preparations to do before the morning and our arrival in Sentinel. Though as I left, I felt a hollow sensation inside of me, one that I was unfamiliar with. I thought of it as a later fell asleep.
We arrived early the next day, I awoke during the early dawn as Sir Damian roused his squire from his sleep rather brusquely, by flipping the poor lad's hammock over. Much to the amusement of the men who were already awake. As I clambered up onto the deck, I inhaled the fresh morning air, the air was still slightly chilly from the night and drove the weariness from me. Then in the distance, like a mirage, I beheld one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen in my entire life. Out of the light of dawn, Sentinel seemingly arose. It's golden towers shimmering spectacularly. It was smaller than Daggerfall to be sure, but it had an exotic beauty that I had never seen before.
As we docked, the scent of exotic spices almost overwhelmed me, naturally I was familiar with them, but not with them dominating so. Though granted, as with every other port the smell of fish and human waste was also rather strong. Sir Damian had a quick conversation with the harbor master while Baron Theoderic looked thoroughly bored though he did his best to hide it, before the harbor master decided that our papers were in order. Four knights remained on the ship with their squires, and four departed with the Baron as he made his way to talk with a vizier. I was not needed for this part, the four knights would provide ample protection and Sentinel was already quite safe. My usefulness would come later, on the journey to Skaven, when there was a very real chance of encountering dangerours creatures, bandits or something in-between like goblin raiders.
This provided me with an opportunity to explore the city while the Baron spoke of tariffs and piracy with Sentinel officials. Adrienne departed first however, wanting to make a visit to the local Mages Guild Chapter before the journey would lead us on. She had agreed to come with us a part of the way, but would swing south about halfway there, instead travelling to Leki's Blade. Leki's Blade I would later learn was a sword school with ties to the Sword-Singers, supposedly founded by one.
One that was even less interested in remaining on the ship than I was, was Sir Damian. Though he would never admit it, even the calm waters of the Iliac Bay made his stomach churn. As I took my leave, he announced the need to stretch his legs and accompanied me. Now, mages in general are not particularly respected among the Redguards, and depending on what sort even loathed (though healers are welcome enough). Because of this I was grateful for Damian's company, for any ill will that would have been aimed towards me was dispelled at the sight of the knight's longsword.
We walked through the market, and I noticed with interest how Sentinel's main marketplace wasn't a square (like in Daggerfall or Wayrest for that matter), but a long street running through the city, with traders on both sides calling out wares to passing townsfolk. There was exotic spices, animals, exquisite carpets, jewelry, blades. I hazarded a guess that if there was a market for it here, traders would sell their own mothers for the right price. Sir Damian was actually genuinely interest in purchasing a Redguard sword, it was a curved blade and he surely reckoned it would look nice on his wall, but he balked at the price. Out of earshot from the seller he then promptly declared that the swords were pieces of shit anyway. Bridges ran overhead, and much of the street was covered in beautiful canopies to protect buyers and traders alike from the harsh sun of Hammerfell. Around the city there was elegant fountains and gardens with large fruit trees, under which townsfolk sat and gossiped over drinks during the hottest hours of the day. One man sat on a roof terrace and casually played an Alik'r flute (that I have quite forgotten the name of), it's long wailing tunes always seemingly waking a sense of mystery inside of me. As they hinted of secrets long-lost to the sands of the mighty Alik'r desert. Sentinel's palace, was just that. Unlike Castle Daggerfall, that was a fortress as well as a royal residence, Sentinel's palace was a beautiful building dominated by a great golden dome. It was built for beauty and pleasure, not to withstand a siege. Though to attack Sentinel, one would either have to send an army through the desert, or launch a naval invasion. And Sentinel, not only being one in it's own right, was on good terms with the premier naval powers in the Iliac Bay, Daggerfall and Wayrest.
We ate in the guest house that had been given to our party later that evening, with a vizier having arranged for food to be delivered. The Baron Theoderic was out enjoying the pleasures of the city, while the King saw the Baron as one of the most loyal of men, Sir Damian confided in me that he was not sure that the Baron's wife would agree. Adrienne joined us later as the sun was setting over the city, the air cool but still pleasantly warm, and we share our meal with her. Redguard food is one that tends to grow on you, but to one who had grown up with the more sophisticated Breton cuisine... It, to put it mildly, felt as if the Red Mountain itself had erupted in my mouth. Sir Damian's squire, Frederic, was quite amused. Though my annoyed glance, aswell as the assault upon his own mouth upon his first bite removed the grin from his lips. Sir Damian had been here before and chuckled at us first-timers, and dug in. Though I did notice he stayed well-clear of a certain meat skewered on small sticks, there was limits to even his tolerance.
Adrienne fared about as well as me and Frederic, almost choking on her first bite and was forced to wash it down. After having eaten at many different places in Hammerfell following this, I have come to the conclusion that though not completely out of character, some of the cooks have been playing a long and elaborate prank on foreign dignitaries. Their entourage in particular. I could imagine the chefs, knowing how the inexperienced people it is for, struggling to contain their laughter as they add just a bit more spice to what is already severely powerful for the first-timer. When you get over the initial shock however, you come to appreciate the nuances to it. How they can be spicy, sweet and fresh at the same time. As I have always only been a chef of necessity, I encourage anyone further interested in Hammerfell cuisine to try it for themselves, or purchase a book that was actually written with the purpose of the culinary arts of the region.
Sir Damian kept us entertained with stories of battles, and Frederic proved to be an able lute-player. Apparently he had aspired to be a bard, but his father had thought otherwise. I shared a few stories of my own, one that Adrienne was particularly fond of is the explanation of something that baffles mages to this day. During the months following the battle against the wild host of the Black Drake, as I explained earlier we were forced to hunt down Reachmen warbands who had escaped the slaughter. The brash young man that I was, I had decided to open a portal up on a hill from which I would have a good vantage point to study the surrounding terrain from. The only problem with this idea is that the same brilliant choice of a spot had come to the leader of the very Reachman warband I was tracking.
I think it is sufficient to say that when I suddenly appeared on top of a sleeping Reachman, in the middle of their camp. While I did manage to silence the Reachman I had fallen on with the tip of my sword, it was not before he had screamed in alarm. And I was forced to make a rather quick exit at breakneck speed down the very steep slopes of the hill. Arrows and curses sizzling all around me. As sure in my own power as I was back then, there were limits. To this day I still do not trust portals, or really any means of teleportation. It seems to me as if you dive into murky waters, not knowing if you will land safely or be impaled on a sharp stone upon impact. To this day the only means of teleportation I use, is the established routes between Guildhalls of the Mages Guild. Or in a time of great need, where speed if of the essence.
All three of my companions were positively howling with laughter as I detailed how I had been forced to report this to a superior, imitating my Captain's look of astonishment. Even the normally harsh-looking Sir Damian struggling for breath. I found my gaze wandering over to Adrienne, who looked even more stunning in the light of the setting sun. There had been other women in my life, but never one that had truly made me feel something, but this young mage with her brilliant laugh had in a mere day.
We remained in Sentinel for three days before it was time to depart for Skaven, I had used the time to spend the time training with mages from the local Mages Guild, whereas Adrienne had holed herself up in the city's library, studying old Redguard lore. Already in my early twenties, I was a relatively adept sorcerer all-around. But given my profession and innate power, I was (I can admit even now that I am older) a rather capable and powerful Battlemage in my own right. I certainly thought of myself so, and I was respected by my peers, but I still had much to learn. And I took chances whereever I journeyed to improve upon these skills, I have found that even in remote villages, there is always something useful to be learned. Whether it is from a local village wizard, or an Archmagister of the Crystal Tower in Alinor. This would be one of the main reasons that drove me on the journeys it did, though that is still some time in the future.
Besides myself and Adrienne. On the journey to Skaven there would be six Knights of the Dragon and as many squires, and the King of Sentinel had seen fit to grant us two guides that would lead us to and from Skaven. They were lightly armored and carried smaller bows that could be fired from horseback. Given the terrain we would have to traverse, horses would not be an option, instead we would travel using camels. I had seen camels once or twice before, yet never ridden one. They are strong and patient creatures that can go for days without water. They seemed to have more patience than the fiery steeds I was used to, but can be surprisingly headstrong. I liked them well enough, and they are comfortable to sit on during longer journeys. Besides those that we rode on, a few additional camels carried the heavy armor and other equipment of the knights. For spending days in the saddle in plate armor was not an option in the Alik'r, unless you wanted to roast inside it.
As we rode out through the city gates, I was amazed what lay before me. I had yet to look beyond the city walls, believing Sentinel to be surrounded by farmland. It was, but not much of it. Before me I saw the great sand dunes of the Alik'r, dark cliffs towered over them in the distance. There was large basins with canopies over, that leaned inwards and was used to catch rain for the city's water supply, and a few lone patches of palm trees. But after a mere few hundred paces, besides the odd dry bush or small bundle of palm trees, there was little to no sign of life. All that lay before us now was sand, rocks, and more sand. The wind having shaped the dunes into elegant waves in what looked like a stormy sea, frozen in time. I looked back and saw Sentinel with it's golden domes shimmer in the heat, almost dancing as the hot air played tricks on our eyes, and I knew that the wide world was ahead of me. What perils and strange creatures would lay in our path on the way to Skaven I did not know, but I had the feeling that I would not return the same young man that I was.
Part Three; Blood and Dunes
As much as I do enjoy visiting the Province of Hammerfell I can with confidence say that I have never quite gotten used to the harsh sun. To me, a Breton who had been raised in the temperate green hills of Glenumbra, the Alik'r seemed as hot as the Ashlands in Vvardenfell where the ground spewed forth molten stone. Of course, I knew little of those lands at the time. That would change eventually, but that was many years from this point. Do not get me wrong, the deserts of Alik'r are beautiful and the winds seem to have a life of their own, shaping the sands into beautiful patterns. It is a peaceful and truly untouched part of nature, with the exceptions of a few ruins half-swallowed by sand and time. The great dunes stretch as far as the eyes can see, the horizon shimmering in the far distance. However the sun is ever-present and unrelenting during the day, and the nights are surprisingly cold. It is I placed a magical charm upon myself to ward off the blunt of it, my fair skin not suited for the climate. The Knights of the Dragon had all donned white hoods to shield themselves, and each of us wore linen with long sleeves. The Knights and Squires wore a mail shirt also, for for there was always a risk of attack. Now, the inexperienced might wonder why one would wear long sleeves when it is so warm. Truth is that it is to keep moisture besides the obvious shield against the sun. The water you have is the water you carry, and it is not wise to sweat more than necessary.
The weather was clear the first day, and we thankfully avoided any of the legendary sandstorms of the region. What we did see however was the local apex predator of the region, Dunerippers. They are native to the western Alik'r, and are large reptiles that can grow to the size of a small horse with armored plates that cover their backs. Besides being able to burrow themselves into the sand with ease, our guides warned that they were deceptively fast, able to rip a man to shreds in mere moments. Their blood did fetch a high prize in the market, but no one among us was in particular need of gold.
Quite surprisingly, the Baron Theoderic of Phrygias was one of those who seemed to be best off. Though worth mentioning is that he wore no protection but a sword at his side, nontheless I realised this was not his first time here. Sir Damian Branck was likewise not too fazed, but he didn't exactly look thrilled either. Our camels didn't mind the heat, they simply trudged on happily. Because Skaven, or Ska'vyn as our Redguard guides called it, lay at the edge of the Dragonstar mountains we would not be forced to cross the great plains of the Alik'r that lay to the east. Instead we would travel through more rocky terrain, where water and shelter from the sun was less scarce. There was also more shelter for prying eyes.
When we made camp that evening, we did not think that lightning a fire would be an issue. Regular bandits would not dare attack such a large and armed party, in particular when it was obvious it was no trading caravan. We made several to keep the chill night air of the Alik'r at bay, from dried trees found along the steep cliffs, and spread our blankets upon the ground. Attempting to find the sand most void of rocks that was quite pleasant to sleep on. We posted several guards naturally, but did not deem it necessary to place any magical protective charms on our camp.
They came for us in the night, the Alik'r warriors were used to moving without making a sound on the sands. The sentries had been taken by surprise as shrouded warriors broke cover and fell upon them, so quickly that they barely had time to draw their swords. I have always been a light sleeper, but it had been impossible to sleep through that noise. The warriors screamed hate as they overwhelmed the guards and made their way into the camp, attacking our soldiers who were still dazed from sleeping. But the Knights of the Dragon are some of the finest fighters in High Rock, even if most of them were not armored at the moment they were still dangerous opponents. I rolled out of my blanket and got to my feet, my hands ablaze with magefire, just in time to see a Knight parry a quick blow from a scimitar. The Knight redirected the thrust the Alik'r warrior had aimed, and immediately changed direction of his cut, opening the belly of the Redguard who screamed as his entrails spilled out over the sands.
In the soft light of the fires, the fighting was almost hopelessly confused. Ironically, the hoods that the Redguard warriors had used to help them disguise themselves, helped us see who was friend and who was foe. I sent a blast of fire at a group of advancing warriors, coming in from where the death of a Knight had opened a gap in our lines. The magic fire made a strange hissing sound as it flew from my hands, and slammed into the two first warriors with an unnatural force, as if they had been struck by a tidal wave. The magical flames stuck to flesh, causing horrible burns and incinerating those who took the blunt of it in mere moments.
I had to exercise caution, for it was easy as a battlemage, in particular a powerful one such as myself, to cause as much damage to your own army as the enemy. To my right, an Alik'r warrior disarmed a squire and knocked him to the ground, and I used the opportunity to blast the man to cinders with a lightning bolt. The bolt crackled from my hands, leaving a metallic taste on the air, and exploded with a defeaning sound of a thunderclap upon impact. Somewhere behind me, I could both hear and feel a blast of magical energy and the screams of a man, and I assumed it was Adrienne – but I had no time to dwell on it. The Baron called out an order and his mighty voice cut through the chaos of battle like a knife through butter, and we did our best to fall back to the cliffs to form a defensive crecent. There was at least two score of our enemies, possibly more. Over a dozen men lay dead on the ground and equally as many were wounded. Of our men I estimated it to be less than a score still in fighting condition. The Knights were hard pressed, standing a few feet apart and doing their best to hold the line against the swift blades of our foes. Had they had time to equip their armor it would have been an easy victory, but we did not have such time. If there was any chance of victory, I knew it lay with our magic. Meaning mostly mine.
The Redguards scrambled to get out of the way as I unleashed my full fury upon them. My figure seemingly swirling with lightning as I unleashed several thunderbolts against them, cutting through their ranks like a bolt fired from a ballista and incinerating all those in their way. It was as I prepared to unleash more of the magefire that their sorcerer revealed himself. The sands suddenly seemed to have a will of their own as I unleashed a torrent of fire, winds driving up the sand into a wall that came hurtling at me, the flames quenched upon impact. It was a powerful counterspell, and one that I had not anticipated. I did manage to raise a ward, but it had been too late to make a strong one. The ward shattered upon impact and the firm wall of sand slammed into me, I suppose that I was thrown into the cliffs behind me for I recall nothing more of the battle.
When I came to, I found that my hands had been bound with enchanted shackles that prevented me from casting any spells. The oppressive magic of the steel making me feel nauseous, and though I could not touch it I felt dried blood on the back of my head. Where I could only assume I had hit my head on the rocks. There was only about ten of us left, the men sitting back to back and tied together with ropes. I saw Adrienne, she had a cut on her arm and was visibly bruised, but otherwise all things considered looked unscathed. Sir Damian was alive too, though he looked worse and had an ugly cut under his eye. His gaze was filled with hate and sorrow, and I tracked his eyes and saw the body of Frederic, his squire. I had seen a lot of death, but I too felt an empty sensation inside of me as I saw the young man, who only an hour ago had been so full of life. Now he lay gazing lifelessly up on the stars. His throat had been opened with a vicious cut that looked something like a sick and twisted smile.
I studied our captors, they were lightly armored which was typical for Redguards, and almost all carried scimitars and small shields. Though a few carried heavier weapons. Then my eyes fell upon one of them, someone who stood out to me for he was the only one who carried a staff. None of our foes wore any emblems and neither did he, all that I did know about the man was that he was a powerful sorcerer. And that I would slaughter him mercilessly and feed his corpse to Dunerippers, or so I silently pledged to Stendarr who's sphere included that of justice. The Sorcerer wore long robes and had a sword by his side, and carried himself with supreme arrogance. Though I noticed that the warriors did not exactly look upon him with reverence, rather a cautious kind of disdain. Redguards have never particularly liked or trusted mages, especially not the dwellers of the Alik'r were their Old Ways were stronger. I could only assume that it was fear and the understanding that he was an asset that kept them from making any remarks.
The Sorcerer was not the leader however, that authority seemed to lie with another man about the same age. Like the Sorcerer he too carried himself with extreme confidence. It was well deserved however, for I had seen him cut down three Knights in the battle. My mind was racing, I was sure that the only reason we were being kept alive right now was that they had yet to decide if we could be of any use to them. There was always the possibility for ransom, but I had my doubts about that. This did not seem like an attack of that nature. What we needed was time, first of all I needed to unmake whatever magic was woven into my iron metal shackles. Then we needed to make our escape. Our camels were still there and unharmed, so were our saddlebags and supplies next to them. As it stood we were outnumbered by more than three-to-one and we stood no hope of defeating our enemies. Sir Damian had come to the same conclusion, or perhaps he simply did not care anymore. For he began to taunt their leader. He called him a coward, a brigand with no honor. A Redguard struck him hard, but he continued. Then he uttered a sentence that caused the Redguards present to flinch with anger; "Are you only capable of murdering boys in the night? I wonder what your ancestors would think of you, or were they too snakes sold their dignity to the highest bidder?"
The dead were sacred to the Redguard people, and to insult them, in particular someone's ancestor was one of the worst insults they could possibly think of. It had the desired effect. The leader's eyes flared with hate and he drew his blade so fast that it was hard to track it's movement. He growled "Basir, free him and give him a sword. You will die for that mongrel.", aiming the last sentence towards Sir Damian.
Sir Damian's movements were slightly labored as he got up, stiff from being bound and bruised from the battle. But as he gripped his longsword he looked fierce. He looked like a man with nothing to lose, that would embrace death with a smile on his face. But his eyes were not the eyes of a man that hade given up, they were the eyes of a cold and calculating predator studying it's prey.
By now I was working fiercely, my magic straining against the enchantment placed upon the shackles that bound me. Unfortunately however, the mage behind the enchantment was clearly not a bumbling hedgewizard. And I for all my talent and innate power was still inexperienced. My eyes flickered up as I heard the first clash of metal on metal. Their leader, who's name I still did not know, looked confident and calm. He held his scimitar above his head and circled Damian carefully, who in turn was slighlty bent forward and crouched, sword held in front of him in a plow guard.
The Redguard attacked, I myself had great difficulty tracking his blade as he swung it downwards only to deftly change the angle of the cut at the last second. Sir Damian almost fell for it, only managing to parry the cut at the last second, saved by his crossguard. Instantly, Damian retaliated, advancing with a thrust and following up with a cut. The Redguard danced out of the way, and seemed as light on his feet as if he was walking on wind. The combatants clashed again and again. I found myself enthralled by the display of swordsmanship. It was clear that The Redguard was the more refined fighter of the two, but Damian was quick enough to at least keep up. And he was heavier and stronger. This was the reason why the Redguard made sure to remain firmly on the outside, not willing to engage in a clinch with the knight. It was a dance of death were one mistake would surely mean death. They parried, swung, blocked and thrust with exceptional speed. Sweat on their brows and both breathing heavily. Damian had already sustained two smaller cuts, one on his arm and the other on his calf.
Just as the duel seemed to be slowing down, the Reduard unleashed a furious series of attacks at Damian. His blade seemed to swirl around him as he drove the knight backwards, who in turn barely seemed to be able to block and parry the blows. Damian was edging ever closer to the cliffs, but then I realised it had been his intention. As he got near, he suddenly kicked off from the stone. Launching himself forward with a violent thrust. The Redguard was caught off-guar and stumbled backwards. Unrelenting, Damian swung his longsword with such power that it knocked the scimitar aside. Instead of pulling back to get the distance needed to swing again, the knight slammed the point of his elbow into the temple of the Alik'r swordsman, using the arm in which he held the sword.
The Redguard stumbled from the violent force of the blow, and Damian now did step back, and swung again. The longsword cut deep and almost severed the man's neck, painting the sand red with a spray of blood. For a time no one spoke. Our foes had been so sure of their victory. But this could only end one way. We were outnumbered and and bound so that we could not fight. Only one of us carried a weapon, and he was both tired and wounded. I doubted Sir Damian cared much, he had achieved some vengeance against our enemies.
Suddenly, there was a soft thunder of hooves in the distance and I could not help myself but to laugh. This must surely be the downside of an ambush in a pass used by many nomads, the risk of discovery was considerable. And our battle had made significant noise. Something came to me, that often nomads would travel when it was dark and cool, preferring to rest during the scorching days. Our resistance and Damian's duel must have bought enough time for some outrider to get word back to his group, and it was a matter of honour to help those in danger for many Redguards.
During the duel, I myself had tried a different approach to the shackles. Subtlety over brute force is what discerns a skilled mage from a common village wizard, and the shackles finally came off when I managed to indentify a weak spot in the spell. However as I was not quite used to this sort of magic, it had drained me quite considerably. Using the element of surprise I cast a curse at their sorcerer. It wasn't the sort of flaring and intimidating magic that I had cast before, one that was meant to frighten enemies and cause great harm. The spell seemed to bend the air around it as it slammed into the chest of the sorcerer, who had been looking elsewhere. Stopping his heart in a mere instant. It was no glorious duel where magical energies melted the ground between the duellists, it had been a surprise attack against a distracted opponent. But I wished to live, not be serenaded by poets and I could not afford to risk anything as weakened as I was. At this however, the Alik'r warriors fled. For they did not wish to be caught in the open against the incoming riders, and they had lost both their leader and mage.
Later, much later. I heard in a sermon that this had been the intervention of the Divines. That Mara in her great mercy had sent those nomads, for they had been nomads. But the truth was we were just fortunate, and they had been fools for remaining at the scene of the ambush too long. We have had suspiscions about whether or not they had been hired. For the Crowns had never been much fond of us Bretons, and soured relations between the Forebear Sentinel and Daggerfall would have aided them. But it is just as possible we were simply unlucky. We had seen through the mission in the end. But it had been in low spirits. For a great many good men had died. The remainder of the journey had been uneventful, and few men spoke. I was made sadder by the departure of Adrienne with the nomads, heading southwards. Even seeing the old city and the exotic Dragontail mountains had done little to better my mood. I would return to this region later, and I can still today vividly remember it's scattered ancient towers overlooking deep ravines. The vegetation hanging on to the sides of steep cliffs, and all manner of strange goods passing through. The Baron negotiated for a few days with Skaven officials and the Dragonstar Caravan Company, but none felt inclined to go off exploring.
We took the same route back, this time taking care to travel with a caravan heading to Sentinel, and it was rather uneventful besides a harpy stealing some food off a wagon. Before parting with Sir Damian Branck on the docks of Daggerfall, he shared a few words that have stuck with me to this day; "All we can ever do is choose the path we feel is right for us, no matter where it leads. A life lived being too afraid to pursue what matters to you is not a life worth living. Frederic knew that, so did every man that died in that desert.". Sir Damian was never a particularly great thinker, but those words are among those who have had the most profound impact on my life. And my path would lead me far and wide.
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