Chapter One
7th of First Seed, 4th Era 199 – Southeast of Bruma, at the foot of the Jerell Mountains, Cyrodiil.
It was approaching midnight when a group of Imperial soldiers came upon a small camp under the cover of a cliff overhang a few miles east of Bruma. The fires burned bright inside of the small ring of fur and leather tents. The camp also had a cooking spit with a large campfire under, a couple of crates, a half-a-dozen upright barrels, several sacks scattered about and three smaller fires were placed near the outlying tents. Four of the five tents were occupied, a total of six people. Five were sleeping, the sixth sat on a crate holding a bottle of what looked like mead, fighting sleep. He was losing the battle, as he nodded his head several times as the group approached.
The small group of soldiers gathered together and looked toward the Nord leader. His eyes were fixed on the camp. After a few moments, the Nord gave them hand gesture orders. The group was four strong – nothing more than a scouting party – but they were good at their jobs. No one in the camp suspected that just outside of the light of the firs there were three people moving to better positions.
As they each reached their positions, they nodded to their leader. He gave the camp one final look, then he gave Mibem, a young dark green-eyed Bosmer, a wave of his hand. She nocked an arrow whose head was coated with a thick semi-transparent green paste and with one smooth deliberate motion let the arrow fly. Without a sound, it slipped into the semi-awake guard’s right calf. The sting of the arrow entering his leg brought the bandit out of his light, mead-induced slumber just long enough to realize he’d been shot. He reached for the arrow, but before his hand could touch it, he fell off the crate and lay in a lumped position a few feet from the fire with the cooking spit. A slow, low snore could be heard a few seconds later, telling everyone he still lived.
The Nord waved his hand a second time, this time to Dar’Rahka, a grey and black, tiger-striped Khajiit. Rahka moved toward one of the tents. His movements were so silent not even the wildlife inhabiting the small stand of trees outside of the camp heard him. He entered the tent and drew twin daggers, they were coated with the same paste as the mer’s arrow. One smooth motion later and two bandits lay sleeping in their tent with small cuts on their naked shoulders. Rahka continued his stealthy movement into the tent closest to where the now sleeping guard lay. He covered the face of the tent’s occupant with a linen cloth. While the cloth looked completely harmless, it was coated with some herb mixture that Rahka would tell no one about. After a moment of struggling, the bandit stopped moving. Once Rahka removed his hand, this bandit also started to snore.
Mibem had readied another arrow and nodded her head in the direction of the camp. The squad’s leader saw this and moved into the light of the fires. He was big, even semi-crouched he was a massive figure. He wore heavy Imperial armor but no helmet. Instead he wore a hood, like those worn by mages. Under the hood a battered circlet of silver and onyx held his light-brown hair out of his eyes.
His movements were quiet and cunning. He was no assassin, but he could move quietly when needed. In his right hand was an Imperial sword; his left carried a large round shield. He moved toward the largest tent and placed himself in front of its partially opened front. He nodded his head and Rahka took care of the fifth bandit. When the Imperial leader saw Rahka exit the tent across the camp, he slid his blade inside the partially opened tent and moved the flap to the right.
Occupying this tent was a hulk of a Nord – easily 3 inches taller than the Imperial leader. This bandit was lying face up with his arms spread wide to each side – almost like a bird in flight. Beside him lay a bottle of moon sugar and three empty mead bottles.
Passed out. Thought the Imperial soldier. Not even gonna be a challenge.
With a chuckle, he rotated his sword and smacked the sleeping Nord on the head with the flat side of the blade. The blade returned a beautiful high-pitched ringing to let its wielder know that he had struck something hard. One of the bandit’s arms began to move, the leader Nord prepared himself.
The bandit’s eyes started to flutter and the moment he focused on the leader standing over him, he raised his huge legs and kicked the leader in the gut causing him to fly out of the tent and land nearly the full width of the camp away. With a large thud and grunt, the leader landed on his back near one of the smaller fires.
He shook his head and said, “Well. Wasn’t expecting that!” and jumped up to face the last bandit who by this time had stood up and was exiting his tent.
The bandit was not aware of the two other soldiers or his sleeping comrades. In fact, it took him several seconds to realize that the noise of the Imperial’s landing hadn’t woken anyone. He looked around the camp and noticed no one moving. Then his eyes settled on the lumped-up Nord that was supposed to be on guard. A quick glance and he noticed the arrow protruding from the younger Nord’s leg. What he didn’t see was this Nord was breathing, nor did he notice that the Nord also snored. He just saw the arrow protruding from his brother’s leg and assumed he was lying beside the crate because he was dead. He went into a fit of rage “Ston! My brother! You bastard! You killed my brother!”
Mibem and Rahka looked at each other and quietly said “Uh-Oh” in unison and sniggered slightly. Then they settled in to watch the fight.
Their leader was ready, his shield raised; sword blade glittering in the light of the flame. The bandit had a war-axe in his left hand; a mace in the right. Wearing only his breaches he was running like a mad bull toward the leader. Closing to within arm’s reach rather quickly, the bandit raised the axe and started swinging the mace from the side. Just before the axe connected with the leader’s shield, an arrow from the darkness came in, striking the bandit in the left calf causing him to fall and skid, chin first, to a halt at the Imperial soldier’s feet. When he rolled over to look at the Imperial, a huge fist wrapped around a sword hilt came down and knocked him out.
The leader relaxed, looked in the direction of the arrow and yelled “Damnit Cidius! It was just getting good!”
“We don’t have time to play Bastian. Besides, he was no match for you.” Cidius Aurrus barked as he made his way into the light, and warmth, of the camp’s fires.
“But where’s the fun of tracking down dangerous criminals if you can’t have a decent brawl every once in a while?” Bastian teased. He would have liked to have had one short brawl with the brute. “Tie him up. Make sure his leg isn’t bleeding and he’s safe to travel. Don’t want him dying before we get back.” He stored his blade and shield on his back. “I’m going to look through what they stole. Maybe it’ll lead us to their boss.”
“Or it’ll tell us that he has no boss and we can all go back to the legion with some good news.” Cidius chirped.
“Yeah, because we’ve been getting nothing but good news these last few months.” Added Mibem.
“This one has a sour attitude.” Rahka bellowed pointing in Mibem’s direction with a thumb’s claw. “She is always collecting blisters on her feet from walking on warm sand instead of admiring the view from the beach.”
“Ok you two, just get the others ready for travel and then start looking for anything that’ll point us to our next target.” Bastian snapped. Everyone began their task.
Before long, the bandit leader was awake and struggling to break free of his bonds. Bastian moved to him, picked him up and placed him on a crate then began his interrogation by asking “Who’s your boss?”
To which the bandit replied, “Kiss my arse.”
“One more time…Who’s your boss?” Bastian was not a very patient man and this Nord was already plucking on his strings.
“I told you, KISS MY ARSE!” the burly Nord said and spat on Bastian’s armor. Without a thought, Bastian landed a hard right cross on the Nord’s jaw. Pulling out a rag, wiping off the spittle, he turned and walked away, giving a glance to Cidius. Without a word Cidius walked up to the bandit and began to weave a spell. A dull blueish-purple wave of light appeared between his fingers.
Turning back to the bandit, Bastian began in a calm voice, “I’m only going to ask you one more time and then I’m going to let my friend here start sending pieces of you to Oblivion.” Bastian nodded his head to Cidius who had a delightfully evil look on his face. “I think I’ll let him start right HERE.” He growled with a firm voice, heavily enunciating the HERE and tapped on the create with a broken arrow shaft between the Nord’s legs.
The bandit saw the delightful look on Cidius’ face and the light growing brighter and brighter. He thought for a second and then told Bastian that he didn’t know who his boss was. “I get my orders from a drop – a…a…a small box in an alley in B…Br…Bruma. A few days after the job is done, I get a piece of paper from the box. I…I…I take that to a merchant who gives me money.” With a pitiful look on his face he turned to look Cidius in the face and finished. “That’s all I know. Everything, I swear. The money’s been good; the jobs were easy, I couldn’t pass’em up.”
“Tell me where this box is and the name of the merchant that pays you. Maybe I’ll have Cid here leave a little piece.” Grumbled Bastian with a stern look on his face.
“The box is in..ah...in…in the alley between the fishery and hunting supply store on the west side of Bruma. It’s covered in junk, but ‘aint hard to find. I don’know the merchant’s name. He runs the tapestry shop in the market square.” the bandit squeaked, never once taking his eyes of the magical light growing brighter every second in front of him.
“Any certain phrase this merchant responds to, or do we just need the paper?”
“No, the paper’s all you need. I know there’s more than us, the merchant said we were faster than the other groups the last time we got paid.”
“Where’s this paper now?”
“In my tent, under my bed roll.”
Bastian nodded to Rahka who immediately went looking for it.
Sebastian continued with the bandit “And this is your entire group – just six?”
Rahka returned waving a small piece of parchment. Bastian acknowledged the find, then turned back to his prisoner.
“Yeah. This is all of us.”
“I don’t believe him.” Cidius said with a gruff tone. “I say we take a piece just to be sure.” Cidius began to wave his arms and the blueish-purple light grew brighter, turning white and started to crackle.
“NO! Please! NO! I swear I don’t know any more!!! Don’t let him do it!” The bandit whimpered, never moving his eyes from the crackling ball of light.
“Maybe just the tip – no more though, you hear me, Cid?” whipped Bastian.
Having been given the go ahead, Cidius twitched his fingers and let the now brightly glowing ball of light leave his hand. It traveled quickly toward the bandit’s legs. As the ball of light landed on the crate, the bandit let out a scream that could be heard for miles. “NOOO!”
The birds that had been perched in the trees around them suddenly jumped into the air and flew in a hundred different directions.
The ball of light landed and stuck to the front of the crate the bandit was sitting on. It emitted a very bright light, but nothing more.
After watching the bandit’s reaction, Cidius chimed in, back in his normal voice, “I think he’s telling the truth.” pointing to the stream of yellowish liquid running down the front of the crate. The Imperial soldiers all started to laugh. Afterwards, they gathered their prisoners, lashed them to a single length of rope and marched them through the early morning toward Cheydinhal.
Just before sunrise they entered an Imperial camp hidden in a small glen to the north of Cheydinhal, not too far from Lake Arrius where the camp drew it water. It was close enough that they could react to any disturbance, but far enough away that he city’s residents were mostly unaware of their presence.
There they delivered the bandits and reported their findings to Legate Crassi Mantedus. Bastian paced the ground inside of the Legate’s huge tent as he delivered his report.
“This group was six strong. All accounted for. The only problem is that there is more than just this group. They may be operating in every corner of Cyrodiil for all we know. But,” Bastian stopped and turned to look the Legate in the face, “they seem to all get paid by the same merchant in Bruma. He runs the tapestry shop in the market square. He may be the leader or, if not, possibly knows who the leader is. He has to get his and the bandit’s money from somewhere.”
“Good work Rigel.” Legate Mantedus used his soldier’s proper first name. “You and your team have done well. I’ll dispatch an Infiltrator to learn more from this merchant. Tapestry shop you say?”
“Yes ser.” Bastian looked at the Legate with a puzzled face. “But ser, if I may. I was hoping that my team would finish this up. We’re close and I’d like to take all of the other groups down as well.”
“I know. But this work requires…more finesse and I can better utilize your team for other things at the moment. Get cleaned up, some rest and a proper meal. Come see me tomorrow about your next assignment.”
“Yes ser.” Bastian knew he had been dismissed.
Upon leaving the Legate’s tent he strode across the camp where his team had gathered. They were preparing to leave and finish the job. Bastian was clearly upset when he arrived.
“Take a breather. We’re not going anywhere, at least not for a while.’ Bastian looked back to the Legate’s tent and shook his head, then continued, “The Legate seems to think we don’t possess enough finesse to deal with the merchant.” Bastian’s head wagged to each side several times as he said finesse. The scowl accompanying the gesture expressed his displeasure with the comment. “He’s sending in an Infiltrator.”
“You’re joking, right?” Cid squawked, thinking his friend and commander was actually joking with them.
“Nope. His exact words were for us to get cleaned up, get some rest and have a proper meal before reporting to him for our next assignment.” The disappointment and frustration was plain to see on Bastian’s face.
“And why shouldn’t we?” asked Mibem. “We have been tracking those sods for nearly a month. Why shouldn’t we take some time to relax?”
“Because we should finish what we start.” answered Rahka.
“You’re right Rahka, but we’re soldiers and we follow orders.” sighed Bastian. “So, get some rest. Have some fun. We’ll find out what we have in store for us tomorrow I guess.” With that, Bastian left the little group and walked toward the other side of the camp.
“He’s off to the forge again.” started Mibem.
“Yep. He’ll be fine though. Let’s get something to eat.” finished Cid. With that, the three headed toward the center of camp and the smell of food.
* * * * * * *
TABLE OF CONTENTS | CHAPTER TWO
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