1 The New Rift

5E 01

Riften, Skyrim

Birds dark as the city's past flew high above as dawn began to settle. The air had a cool feel against skin today, a good morning despite the responsibilities that were to be kept in only a short few hours. His brother in arms did well to hide his feelings, especially on duty, but Carna struggled to keep his disgust under control. He had always been a firebird, sometimes even at the worst moments. Today could fall under such.

Two men stood at their post guarding the entrance to the city wearing old steel head to toe beneath the colors of the new rift: autumn red and a white clean as winterhold snow of the furthest north.

Time drew slow on days like these, once every few months when Riften received more odd visitors then many would prefer. But such politics were now necessary. To win such a bargain after the catastrophic nature of the Third Great War on all sides, putting up with simple men and mer in fancy clothes with threats no more dire then a watchful mother proved more irritating than any danger they posed.

"What time?" said one of the guards. His eyes watching the road of mist and quiet carefully through the slits of his helmet.

"Hard to say," said the second. His red cloak curling below his knee as a soft drift complimented the cool air. "But they will be here. I'm sure of it."

"Fucking elves. They wouldn't be able to set foot in Riften if we didn't-"

"Hey! Keep your thoughts to yourself. We don't need the attention." The first guard, clearly the younger of the two spit to the ground with a hard brow but gave no complaint. He was right, Carna thought to himself. As a member of the guard, he should be better. His words now carry weight, much more then before. But that did not mean he was alone in his way of thinking. Far from it, perhaps it was even more reason to hold himself accountable. Because such questions as Why would the Jarl agree to such terms anyway? Such way of thinking as We the new rift now hold the most strings to guide Skyrim's fate, yet allow the defeated to crawl through our roads and cities as they wish are not faint and brief whispers of the wind. They are potent as the cold each nord has come to love since their birth, with the growth of embers that stoke into a flame that can devour an entire forest and whatever else that lies in reach. As the past can imagine and teach, such intense pride and emotions could easily stray into something more then intended, then needed, and must be kept in check for the good of the north and its people.

"Carna," the older guard began, his eyes now hard forward compared to his usual simple gaze. The second guard reacted swiftly, following his eyes to the road ahead after recognizing the shift in his tone.

"They are here."

5E

A set of eyes looked past the moving sky of trees and few colorful leaves drifting to the ground as he took in the easy air compared to the bitter weight of home. "Tamriel … What a beautiful land, beautiful indeed."

"Another story! Another story!" asked a energetic voice of a child while pulling on his sleeve. The old pair of eyes found the boy with a head filled with dark hair and slivers of sand brown, showing a smile large as Skyrim's sky itself. The man requested for tales of old leaned his back against his newly made carriage, the ride smooth as silk as the little one looked up to him with awaiting eyes. Paying no heed to the gold threaded throughout his robe and little cloak, and jewels cast around his neck. The old set of eyes tapped his chin as if in thought while eying the child. He was quite the odd one in his family line, at his age he did not simply wish for the respect and power of legends, he was obsessed. As were his brothers and father, and grandfather before him. Though not this one… he did not wish to admit it, but the trait gave him a smile once for every few worries. But also a feeling that kept him confident, constantly whispering in his ear that the boy's path would be much different than he or his elders, much different indeed.

"Well then, what story would my little Aka wish to hear on this fateful morning?" The boy raised his posture and put a finger on his own chin. Taking his time to count through the many tales his father had told throughout their weeks of travel, and what would be the best choice for today. "The man who killed the emperor," Aka said firmly.

"Ah. You've been saving that one, havn't you?" The boy said nothing as his sly smile grew an inch further. "Ulfric Stormcloak. A troublesome man indeed." The boy's attention snapped forward the moment he heard the name said aloud. An act the storyteller did not miss. He let out a snicker before meeting Aka's brown gaze. "I do not see why not. Let us discuss one of Skyrim's greatest warriors… and to some, heroes." Along the smooth ride through the pale dirt path, they did just that. The boy attached to every word as his father spoke of the ruthlessness and passion of the Bear of Markarth, the despair and rage from the empires' betrayal, and the inevitable sacrifice the man chose to make to spark the third long and grueling great war, one that provoked forgiveness in many, and others to say it was long overdue. The time Aka and his father shared when telling tales always forced time fly away, and before long; a familiar clearing of the throat signaled the end of their fun after the carriage came to a slow as the dozens of horse riders around them did the same. A knock came after a good amount of footsteps could be heard.

"Enter."

The door wasted no time to open, revealing a thin wood elf carrying a small stack of books and quill in one hand across his side.

"My lord, I bring the nobles of the Fifth Dominion." With a step to the side, one in dark cloth head to toe stepped from the mist along with what looked to be soldiers of mer and men waiting at the carriage door and some still on horse behind them. She stepped with the class and demeanor that spoke well with her power.

"It does me well to see you in good health, King Forn."

"I am glad I can say the same, Justicar Omera." The elven woman turned to the boy now wearing a empty stare to the intruders of his father's tale.

"He has grown well." The King set a hand on Aka's head, regaining his attention again. "Yes, he has. You remember what we spoke of before, yes?" The boy nodded. Giving the old man another smile before the weight of his father's hand left his head.

"Good. Now, go on. I must complete my duty as ruler, and you must do the same as the next." Aka raised to his feet. Keeping his eyes on the king's for a long moment until he gave once more a silent nod. Neither had wavered. And when he turned, his sight found the elven woman in black. Looking up to her as a clear sky does to land. Then without a word made his steps into the mist of dawn, looking back as one of the elven soldiers shut the carriage door.

"… He is more aware then I expected," said Omera.

"Of course he his," King Forn said with a grin as the carriage began to move again. He is my son. None of my flaws, and far more interesting strengths."

5E

Aka continued to eye the carriage door. Inhaling the cool air and letting go a deep breath before turning forward and starting on his own path, exiting the confines of the road and into the mass of the forest. Unsurprisingly, he heard the steps of those who accompanied he and his father on this odd journey.

"Master Aka, I had no idea you were so interested in the leader of Skyrim's rebellion," said a familiar and already troubled voice of a particular wood elf. He thought he would keep going despite the silent and clumsy steps behind him, but it seems he and his legs had other plans as he stopped mid-stride within the forest's depths of leaves and turned his chin to the wood elf and the warriors of Forn. He recognized all of them. In truth there were three wood elves, a female and male with sharp ears and tan skin, each holding their well carved shortbow in hand. A argonian with coal and lava like scales, carrying with him a sword on his wast and a larger one on his back… and Orin, the third bosmer unlike the calm and graceful others in every way imaginable, and still having trouble to keep his balance while carrying all his materials. The warriors were quite popular back in Evermore. Many deeds done in the name of the the king, who was well known for gathering gifted individuals from the most random of backgrounds. And it was not a coincidence they now stood before him.

"Who?" Aka said with a high brow and sharp tone sharp. Orin finally came to a stop as well, puzzled as he adjusted his glasses in spite of the books just below his chin. "Ulfric Stormcloak, master Aka. You-"

"Why are you all following me?" Aka said quickly as if to hurry conversation.

"There is no reward where I am going. If you stay with the noble party, you will be able to find way back home as quick as a month's time." A certain silence ran through the air while he spoke. Already hinting at his father's doing.

"…He sent you."

"You thought the king would leave his blood to fend for himself alone at such a age?" Orin said while keeping his laughter under control.

"We are not bloo-"

"Master Aka," interrupted one of the three fangs of Forn. The bosmer woman stepping forth with a brief but respectful nod, bow still in hand. "I think that is enough." He eyed the confident one with a forgery of a glare. His instincts were right. A good choice as usual, father.

Aka returned attention to the broken path. He had not expected this… "Do as you like," he muttered as he continue on in his steps until a stray leaf, black as night caught his eye, drifting lower and lower. And just as it touched the ground, as if one of the gods had opened an eye, the world boomed and quaked, the wind shifted into a tide of whirlwinds, blocking all sound and cutting through the mist all the while.

Aka caught his balance, barely able to keep it as he quickly searched behind him. Orin was on the ground, unable to move in fear of being swept away, thankfully the hand of the male bosmer kept him steady while he was held in place by the argonian who had struck the blade at his waist deep into the ground to fight the power of the winds. And before Aka could blink, he found the woman's hand around his cloak. There was a careful eye about her at that moment. As well as the tear in her own forgery. His instincts had never lied to him, and today should be no exception. But before something could begin, a whisper, drowned in power and hunger made way to his ear.

"drun mok wah zey" Bring him to me

His limbs had gone stiff, and sight blurred as he fell to the ground. Feeling only the hand on his cloak become two, then the blades of grass against his cheek be replaced with the once again calm wind.