Rastislav
patreon
Arc 8 Chapter CXXXI: The Eagle Rears Back
🕑 Added 2025-05-19 21:57:53 +0000 UTC(General POV, earlier)
Hural, or Lord Hural as his kin insisted, wiped the sweat from his forehead as the final Bosmer miscreant was cut down by his warriors, his bloody glaive retracting from the still twitching body under him, an act he had repeated numerous times in the past few hours.
The Ayleid warrior twirled his weapon through the air, throwing bits of blood off its edge as he did before shouldering it, and facing his subordinates "Did we get all of them?"
"None escaped" His gruff second in command answered "The fools got too excited, rushed too deeply into us, almost as if we were an afterthought and they were running from something."
"Greenhill has probably fallen then" Hural gravely concluded "The sheer speed of it worries me."
The older elf across him quirks an eyebrow "Think they will find us?"
"It is only a matter of time" Hural confirmed absently, eyes distant. The rumors he had heard over the past few months and the reports of his own scouts made it an inevitability.
A hand landing atop his shoulder nearly made flinch in surprise as the gruff elf leaned in on him "We will deal with things as they come, no point in overthinking. Now come, the bodies won't strip themselves."
"Never know with these tree worshippers." He snorted and they got to work.
Hours later, their troop marched back to their settlement, the beautiful walls surrounding it making many of them sigh in relief at finally reaching civilization after nearly half a day of chasing down retreating wood elves through their natural habitat.
The sentries on the watchtowers greeted them with a cheer and a wave but just as they were all about to be welcomed back home a distant shudder echoed through the air, the telltale noise of a fiery explosion followed by panicked screams.
Bosmeri screams, if Hural's ears were not failing him.
His eyes quickly met those of his second in command and as one, his troop discarded their salvage and trophies on the ground behind them, quickly forming up as best as they could, fatigued shoulders holding up spear and shield as the archers spread out behind and above them.
Minutes passed as the explosions began to near, the panicked screams of the fleeing wood elves making it out in no uncertain terms that they would reach the homes of their heartland kinsfolk before long.
The tension only grew as the silence stretched, the smaller and smaller number of the fleeing Bosmer injecting ice into the veins of the Ayleids, and just as one of the younger and less hardened spear-elves was about to speak out, the final fleeing elf entered their line of sight.
The Bosmer looked ragged. No, that was an understatement, Hural decided, she looked downright battered, as she slinked into the opening leading to his home, the unadorned robes and antlered headdress combined with the flecks of blood on both her lips and hands marking her out as one of the maddened cannibals trying and failing to hunt down his people as nothing more than fuel for their rituals.
The foolish cunt of a girl had the audacity to look relieved as she saw their battle line, shouting something that Hural decided to ignore in favor of grabbing on one of his javelins and without preamble, tossing the weapon at her.
The throwing spear struck her in the throat just as a dozen crossbow bolts slammed into her back, turning the Bosmer from elf to pincushion in one terrifying instant.
The pursuers revealed themselves but a moment later, a duo of elves? clad in blackened steel plate and white fur cloaks stepping out from the wood line even as Hural detected dozens more to be staring him and his down with their red eyes narrowed and their terrible weapons raised.
But to his great unease, it was soon revealed that the crossbowmen were but the escort detail, as a robed elf of grey skin and black hair and beard and with eyes akin to twin burning flames stepped out from within the forest, followed by a pair of Daedra summons on each flank.
The newcomer gave the skewered Bosmer woman a sideways glance before dismissing her utterly and looking up to the group of Ayleids, eyes widening as he no doubt realized the curiosity he had just stumbled upon.
His expression lit up and his excited mutter of "Interesting!" Somehow managed to reach the fidgeting heartland elves, even as he pulled out an odd glowing orb from his robes.
"Hural" The Ayleid leader's second in command hissed "He may be summoning reinforcements, what do we do?"
His eyes narrowed as he looked the scene over once again, and the analysis he could come up with was not promising "Even if we were to rush the obvious powerful mage, those crossbow-elves will cut us down before we can so much as threaten him."
His right hand grunted "And even if we did kill the mage it would not be worth the cost."
"Yes" Hural nodded, face grim "And we would draw the attention of the rest of the imperial army here."
The older elf directed him with a sideways look "So, what do we do then?"
"We change the battlefield" Hural smirked momentarily before visibly cringing "We... negotiate."
The grumbling of his troops told him all he needed to know of their thoughts on that truth.
Before he could be the one to offer parlay to the mage, the air next to the bearded elf shuddered, and faster than his mind could follow, another figure materialized beside the mage.
And to Hural's dread and astonishment, the figure of the young Mer felt infinitely more terrifying than the mage as he felt his hairs standing on end and the very air be charged with the elf's presence, his troops looking increasingly worried as they all tightened their shield wall.
"Well, well, well" The young looking elf clapped his hands before jabbing the older one with his elbow "You were certainly right gramps, this is interesting."
Hural quickly thanked his past self for not trying to stab this... creature's ancestor in broad daylight.
The young elf did not bother with propriety or even proper posturing as he simply disappeared from his previous spot and appeared right before Hural, startling his soldiers enough that one jabbed his spear forward in a panic.
Only to have it slapped away with a lazy wave "Rude."
The poor spear wielder flinched away in terror.
But the young mage had already forgotten the soldier's presence and was once more facing Hural, hand cupping his chin as if he were examining some kind of curiosity at a museum "How quaint." He finally spoke after an awkward silence "I knew some of your kind were still around but I will admit I did not expect to actually meet you."
"Nor did I expect to meet a dark elf" Hural huffed, internally screaming in terror at his own stupidity 'Why in Oblivion did I talk back!?'
"Ha!" The Dunmer barked out a laugh, still completely relaxed even while surrounded by the full force of the Ayleid remnant "True enough, not often we fire enjoyers find our way into a big old forest." He tilted his head "Then again, we did have that little jaunt into Black Marsh a few months back..."
Hural was starting to feel increasingly out of his depth right about now.
"Never you mind that!" The Dunmer mage clapped his hands and peered around the heartlander formation "I see some of the vermin that evaded us stumbled their way into your lands." He sneered "I do hope removing them was not too irritating for you?"
Slightly taken aback by the olive branch offered, Hural frowned "You knew of them?"
"Why else would I have sent an archmage to chase them down?" The grey elf quirked an eyebrow, and seeing how the Ayleid had no response he shrugged "Some fools decided that it was better to die in a ditch than live in a world where Greenhill fell into the Empire's grasp."
He spat on the ground "They grabbed as many of the 'traitors' who peacefully surrendered to us as they could and dragged them away so they could cannibalize them for a ritual to keep fighting us." His red eyes took on a murderous glint "Not that they managed to get far, between our hunting parties and the very Bosmer whose kin they kidnapped, they were driven away quite quickly."
"And right into our lands." Hural finished for him.
"And right into your lands" The Dunmer shrugged "They did not take anyone, I hope?"
"No" The Ayleid did not even consider lying "We managed to track them down before they became a problem and even caught them as they were giving a report to some kind of military unit."
"The same military unit currently strewn across your gate path?" The Dunmer asked lazily.
Hural gave the piled corpses a sideways glance before nodding "Yes."
"Then it seems you have performed me a service" He hummed "An excellent excuse to reestablish relations between the Empire and your town, no?"
The Ayleid immediately frowned "All we wish to do is keep to ourselves, we have no need for war or territory."
"Ah, but that is where you are mistaken, I am afraid" The Dunmer sighed theatrically "You have already interfered in this war, and the Empire is reconquering the entirety of Tamriel, reclusive tendencies or not."
(Reyvin's POV)
I will admit that in my curiosity I maaay have pressed the poor man a bit too hard, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. I always did want to learn the quirks of the Ayleid from the horse's mouth, and now I finally had the chance.
An excellent way to distract myself from the slog of the war if I do say so myself.
"So this is your promised reward then?" The obvious aristocrat very nearly scowled at me "To drag us into a war we have nothing to gain from?"
"If that is how you want to look at it" I smirk at him and shrug "Though I will remind you that it won't be me dragging you into it, but your Bosmeri neighbors, should they learn of what happened to their patrol."
He tensed "Is that a threat?"
"Me?" I press a hand atop my heart "Threaten someone? Never!"
The poor man looks like he just swallowed a lemon.
"Well" I cup my chin "So long as you aren't quite as retarded as your distant ancestors that is." I leaned into the suddenly still elf "You aren't a slavering flesh-weaving monster behind that honest facade, are you Ayleid?"
The stiff leader looked halfway between sputtering out denials and stabbing me with his glaive, inevitably settling on scowling at me with quite a bit of anger in his eyes as he answered without a hint of uncertainty "No."
"Excellent" I clap my hands, not feeling the slightest trace of deception "You can never be sure about these things. People will keep to the stupidest of traditions simply because their ancestors followed them and call it righteous."
Instead of agreeing or doing the opposite, the elf before me stiffened as realization appeared in his eyes "You can discern lies." He pointed at me, a mix of accusation and astonishment in his tone.
"Got it in one" I clap my hand before ever so slightly inclining my head "I assure you, my question was not meant to insinuate anything, but as I've said-"
"You can never be sure, yes" He grunts "Your apology is accepted."
'Ignoring the fact I never gave one' I mentally rolled my eyes "How generous~" I nearly cackle at his minute flinch "But that is enough of that for now, are you going to offer us your hospitality so we can discuss your integration or should I make myself comfortable here?"
His shoulders sag as he realizes I wasn't going to be fucking off as he wanted me to anytime soon "Who are you to negotiate for the Empire anyway?"
"Oh my, where are my manners?" I asked with faux terror before offering a light, barely serious, bow "Reyvin Dagoth, Hortator of Morrowind, and Prince-Consort of Tamriel, at your service."
Every single Ayleid stops in place.
"Ah" Their leader licks his suddenly dry lips "You wouldn't happen to be the same Dagoth that is the godslayer, wouldn't you?"
I gave him my most charming of smiles "The one and only"
"Lord Hural Arantia." He answers almost mechanically "An honor."
I merely allow my smile to widen.
And the poor elf crumbles instantly "We never stood a chance, did we?"
"Nope!~"
---------
(General POV)
A loud crack rang out through the inner sanctum of the great palace of Alinor, the dread mace in the arms of a tall and armored Altmer pulling back with a deliberate slowness as all the other high elves present gaped in terror at what they had just witnessed.
Or at least, nearly all of them, as the last one was currently far too busy twitching on the ground bonelessly and begging the figure looming above them for mercy.
An act that swiftly earned the poor elf a soul trap and another application of blunt force trauma to the cranium that sent him screaming into Oblivion.
"There" High Justiciar Finarfin hissed at the gathered Thalmor "Just like the two idiots before him, Gimilnon has been given the just rewards for his incompetence. How many others do I need to be rid of before we can move from this waste of my time and onto saving our homeland?"
"Because, dear councilors" He leaned forward, causing a few of them to instinctually flinch away "I assure you, should you keep wasting my time, I will do it all without you." The bloodbath his enemies had forced him to enact was not one anyone will easily forget, and not anytime soon.
The sheep that had replaced most of the original Thalmor council after the first great war reacted as he had learned to expect from them, cowering before them and accepting their fates like the worms that they were.
Finarfin once more mentally cursed the infiltrator who slew almost every single senior veteran of the previous war that was present within the palace. Certainly some of them were heavily against his ascent but they were also competent, not a trait shared by their successors.
They pretended to hem and haw, an act of no consequence but to justify the protracted existence of them and their positions even as they all inevitably reached the sole position possible.
"The Thalmor Council" A raspy old Mer stood up, the movement quickly followed by the others "Has unanimously decided on the new leader of our people. For acts of great power and valor we bestow upon Lord High Justiciar Finarfin the honor of the rank of Overlord."
The old elf sighed, spindly shoulders slouching as if every breath was an effort "May you be granted the wisdom to lead us to our ultimate victory."
Decades of careful politicking, of careful work and maneuvering, and of throwing himself into both study and danger, all of it for this one moment... Finarfin could only feel numb as the excuse for an elf bestowed him with his deserved accolade, the rank feeling all but empty to his ears now.
Nearly snarling at the lack of fulfillment, he summoned all his will and held his rage in check, back straightening and shoulders firming he assured himself that victory would be the greatest balm for his disappointment.
"It is a good thing the Council recognizes the severity of the situation" The Thalmor Overlord spoke with a newfound weight "Now, let us get to remedying it."
Hours later, after numerous debates, shouting matches, and many lesser officials summoned to replace their overreaching superiors, the incompetent fools Finarfin was saddled with almost dared to look hopeful under his firm grip.
'Hope.' He snorted internally as he awaited the Pyandonean delegation to drag their rears to him from Shimmerene 'A poisonous and insidious little thing, but a useful one non the less.'
At the end of the day, he did not care if his troops were motivated by either dread or hope. All that mattered was victory.
And victory would be his.
His ancestors would demand no less.
Comments
Hakkira
Thank you kindly for the chapter 😁
StarlightGhoul
Never stood a chance. 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂
