DIPLOMATS AND DRAGONS
From the Journal of Lutherus Sotasius. Date of Entry: Last Seed, 31st, 4E, 201.
Praefect Ottius was less than happy to understand that his Diplomat, tasked with the peaceful surrender of Helgen had been killed. The ruse that he was in fact an Imperial Spy had easily been debunked by Valerius and his men. Lutherus informed the Praefect of Valerius' request to canvas a message to one of his associates in Falkreath - whom Lutherus decided not to share the name of to his Commander. "Deliver that message before Noon. If you are not back by then, we WILL assault Helgen, and slaughter all who dwell within." Warned the Praefect, as he permitted Lutherus to carry on, Faendal in tow. Lutherus spared no time, and sprinted as fast as he could to Falkreath. On the way however, both Lutherus and Faendal happened upon a surprisingly disturbing site. Along the beaten path toward Falkreath, they discovered an abandoned shack, with the charred beyond recognition bodies of those Lutherus believed used to occupy it. The stench of the rotten, burnt flesh was awful.
"How long do you reckon they've been here?" Mentioned Lutherus, taking his helmet off as a sign of respect.
"That fire's been out for a while, it couldn't of been recent." Responded Faendal, as he took in the disturbing scene. He looked inside the shack, nothing more than just a bed, and cabinet. But something rested on the cabinet that, when Faendal properly examined became of enormous interest. He came out of the cabin and produced a parchment, written by the previous inhabitants.
"We must inform Praefect Ottius at once!" Implored Faendal, as he prepared to move back to the Imperial Encampment at Helgen.
"No!" Responded Lutherus, grabbing his friend by the arm, the same arm maimed at Redoran's Retreat, and still very sensitive.
"Ouch!" Shouted Faendal, as he pushed Lutherus away aggressively. "Be careful you fucking imbecile!"
"I'm sorry, frien-"
"Don't call me friend! I may have to wear the same uniform as you have to now, but that is ALL we currently are, soldiers! Nothing more!" Lutherus finally lost patience.
"You know what? I'm tired of your disgusting attitude. How many times do I need to apologise to you? When are you going to get over yourself?"
"Ahh, finally grown a pair of testicles I see? Go on, puff your chest out! Make me tremble with fear!" Mocked Faendal.
"You know, I'm amazed Camilla sees anything in you." Retorted Lutherus. "Why I even bothered to help win you her affection over Sven, is lost on me now." Faendal said nothing. He just stood there, shocked and in disbelief by what he had just heard. Instead, he began to remove his Imperial uniform, piece by piece. He started by throwing his Shield and Sword to the ground. "Desertion is a crime against the Emperor, Faendal! Punishable by death!" Warned Lutherus, but Faendal didn't care. He respectfully folded his uniform and placed it on the ground, next to his Sword. Lutherus however, being an Imperial and therefore, an expert in diplomacy, continued to talk to him. "What about Camilla? What about Septim? Who are you going to work for at Riverwood now? Especially if you have the Imperial Legion looking for you, a fugitive, in their time of need against the Stormcloaks? The Companions certainly won't house a criminal!" Grilled Lutherus, adamant at bringing his friend back.
"They did for you!" Faendal responded, finally.
"I am not a fugitive. I am a victim of circumstance. You are about to commit a serious offence, on the other hand."
"Spare me your Imperial dialect." Finished Faendal, as he finished getting dressed, and started to walk away. "If you follow me, I'll have no problem in killing you. Remember, between me and you I have more expertise in the Sword and Bow."
"And when the Imperials come for you at Riverwood? What happens then?" Shouted Lutherus to his friend. There was no response. Faendal just walked off in silence.
"Damn." Thought Lutherus, he was now in quite the predicament. He still had to deliver the letter to Marcus, and now had to inform Praefect Ottius not only of the Dragon presence here, but also explain why he had lost one of his most adequate soldiers. Lutherus thought for a moment, before deciding to carry on to Falkreath, alone. When he arrived at the Dead Man's Drink, the local Inn for the Falkreath Hold, he questioned the barkeep of this 'Marcus' character. The barkeep identified him as an elderly, balding gentlemen sitting in one the Inn's rooms. Lutherus approached the gentlemen. "Are you, Marcus?" He asked. The gentlemen looked up at the young Imperial soldier with interest.
"I am indeed." He replied. "Am I in trouble, soldier?"
"No, not at all. I have been asked by Valerius, at Helgen to ask that you meet with him, I am in pay of the local Praefect, and I am tasked with bringing you there safely."
"Well, it certainly sounds nice to know that after all this time, Valerius wants to see me again...very well! Let me grab me things and I'm all yours!"
"Great, now please hurry. We haven't the time to lose."
"No rush lad! Patience!" Unbeknownst to Marcus, there was a need to rush. It was already 10 o' clock, and the noon deadline was beginning to seriously catch up to Lutherus. Being old and frail, Marcus couldn't run as fast as Lutherus, so they were both resigned to walking the distance, much to Lutherus' discontent. With minutes to spare before noon, Lutherus and Marcus arrived at the outskirts of Helgen. Lutherus informing the Imperial encampment, set up at the entrance he chose to inform the Praefect of his return, with his escort in tow. They entered the destroyed town centre, Marcus reeling at the destruction. "My, what a mess." He commented, sticking close to his escort. They finally arrived at Helgen Keep, where Valerius awaited, Marcus thanking Lutherus as he went in to meet with his old friend. Moments later, Praefect Ottius entered the settlement aboard his horse, his Battalion members in tow.
"You there! Lutherus! Come here!" He ordered. Lutherus moved over to him quickly.
"What news do you bring of your return, Auxiliary?"
"Praefect, I have returned with Marcus Jannus. A long time associate of this Valerius fellow. They are currently discussing the terms of releasing Helgen."
"Excellent. And uh...where is your associate? The Elf?"
Lutherus gulped. "Praefect...Faendal..."
"Well...? Out with it, lad!"
"...He's dead, Praefect. Killed by Bandits on the road from Falkreath."
"Oh." Responded the Praefect, rather coldly. "Nevermind, he was just another Elf. Not that it matters. Do you have any other news?" Lutherus stood in shock, resisting the urge to strangle his Commanding Officer. He almost forgot about the note found at the abandoned shack, and handed it to him.
"What's this eh?...talk about the Dragon...Bear's Cave Mill...DRAGON AT BEAR'S CAVE MILL?!" Exclaimed the Praefect, shocked by the revelation. "I must send the men at once! Well done on finding this, Lutherus!" Praefect Ottius started to assemble a raiding party that would take men to the Dragon's lair at Bear's Cave Mill, not very far from Helgen itself. "Lutherus!" Commanded the Praefect. "You are the Head Auxiliary! I want you to lead my party to this Dragon's lair, and slay it for me! I must stay here and tend to the rebuild of Helgen with the rest of the Battalion!" Lutherus' eyes widened, he was certain the only Dragon he would survive would of been during his initial arrival at Helgen, and leave it at that. But clearly, Praefect Ottius had other ideas.
"Praefect, I must insist."
"INSIST NOTHING, AUXILIARY. DO AS YOU ARE TOLD!" Instantly replied the Praefect, showing zero interest in Lutherus' concern. It was no good, Lutherus would have to deal with the threat. He walked up to find his assembled party of auxiliaries waiting. They were only volunteers for the Imperial Legion, and essentially arrow fodder. Lutherus did not feel confident in commanding their abilities, if they had any. But he still had to perform his duty.
"Alright, let's move out men!" He called, leading the party to the Bear's Cave Mill.
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