215 Chapter XIX: Fall of Falkreath (Part 1)

"... In essence, the only reason that the absorb life spell even works for vampires at all is the malleability of our own lifeforce considering we use it more as fuel than it being what keeps us alive in the first place." Serana patiently answers my idle question as we sit in one of the larger tents near the General's own.

She considers for a moment and continues "In truth vampires are not truly immortal in the first place as we do need to steal the lifeforce of others to fuel our own existence, our... condition is what makes the process efficient enough to keep us relatively ageless."

"I see" I mutter as I gaze over the still slightly burning walls of Falkreath "So if I were to theoretically use the spell I would either get absolutely nothing from it, get some minor healing, or somehow contaminate my own lifeforce in the process, did I get that right?"

"Essentially." Serana nods "My mother did many experiments with how the entire process worked and this is the conclusion that she came to after decades of work."

"Decades that spelled the doom of hundreds of thralls no doubt." I chuckle darkly.

The vampire looks away uncomfortably "They were dead the moment they got caught."

"Ah yes because that makes it alright." I snort and before she can retort I shake my head "No matter, we both know how immoral the practices of your clan are so there really isn't any more point for me to pour out my vitriol any further."

"Then why did you?" She snaps back quietly.

I sigh "I am bored."

The blank look she gives me before returning to her book makes me snicker childishly before I too return to my own reading, Savos' own notes on transposition was the choice for the evening. Teleportation was neat and relying on inefficient shadow movement would prove problematic at some point so I might as well put the work in while I have the free time.

The excitement at possibly advancing the spell to the point of breaching the veil of reality was all the motivation I needed to go through the tomes' worth of calculations and formulae crammed into the comparatively small book in barely legible chicken scratch.

I swear the old fart must have marked the book somehow so he knew exactly when I opened it and is laughing his ass off right about now.

We will see how you laugh when I spike your food with laxatives you ancient s'wit.

Time flew as I delved into the barely legible writing, even though he could use some exercise with his quillwork the Archmage knew his shit, and the way in which he explained concepts I would have trouble understanding with days of work definitely reduced the amount of... extra spice that would end up in his food.

Sadly all good things must come to an end as one of the legionary bodyguards rapped his knuckles on the wooden post in front of my tent, thus drawing all my attention from my book.

"Yes?" I ask, only mildly annoyed.

"General Tullius has called for a meeting sir." The soldier reports dutifully.

My lips thin but I do get up "Very well, I will be there shortly."

The man salutes and walks off.

Before I leave I turn to Serana "I am getting the feeling that things are about to get exciting, do you wish to participate?"

"Do you need me to?" She asks, her lack of interest in participating obvious to even the blind.

"Nope."

"Then I will stay here and finish my book." She says and without even waiting for me to respond, returns to reading another large history book. This time it was one on Talos' unification of the continent.

I leave the knowledge hungry vampire to her work and make my way toward the command tent. Tullius had made sure I would be nearby and ordered an entire unit of elites to move out of the way so they could house me properly.

The favoritism was incredibly obvious but I had the rights to certain privileges by being what I am and I saw no reason to be falsely humble with these things, that would just lose me respect among both the nobles and the troops.

The command tent was filled to the absolute brim with all manner of imperial officers, everyone from Quaestor to Legate was present except for those that still needed to keep watch.

I noticed a rather tired Tiberius chatting with Legate Rikke in one of the tent's corners while General Tullius ever so dutifully went over the morning's scout reports. The moment I entered the General looked up and greeted me "Court Mage."

"General" I nodded back at him "I am guessing it is time?"

"Indeed." Tullius waved his hand over a couple of spread out reports "After three days of constant harassment the rebels are getting panicked and unruly, waiting any longer would let them reorganize and harden their resolve so the assault will commence today."

"We are looking to end it all swiftly?" I state more than ask.

"Yes." The General says firmly, causing quite a few of the officers to straighten up with pride and resolve "We will take the city in one fell swoop and utterly crush any resistance with our sheer combined might."

"Don't have to chase insurgents around if all of them are too scared to rebel in the first place, eh?" I ask jokingly.

"Indeed." The General's lip twitches slightly, almost forming into a smirk "Which is why I will need you to provide some... showmanship."

The cruel smile on my face sent shivers down the spines of the less experienced officers "Why General, you needn't even have asked."

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Just as the morning fog lifted, thousands of legionnaires marched out from the siege camp while the siege ballistae bombarded the different sections of the wall. I walked in front of the formation, Tiberius and his posse in lock step behind me, the thundering of armored feet bringing an old tune to my mind and I started quietly whistling as we marched.

Something about a bunch of grenadiers coated in red if I remember right.

We did not even bother rising shields or watching the walls for enemy archers, let us just say that after three entire days of being covered by their friends' innards the rebels of Falkreath had been thoroughly educated about my capability to bring death at range.

In short, they knew better.

We stopped some twenty or so meeters in front of the large wooden city gate, the legionaries marching behind me growing deathly quiet as I continued walking forward.

"Now then, how did Tolfdir do this?" I mutter to the empty air before smirking... and stomping the ground with all my might.

(Rebel POV)

"Form up you maggots!" The Stormcloak housecarls snarls at the warriors swiftly gathering into a shieldlwall in front of the city gate "The dogs of the Empire will soon be upon us and I will not have you shame King Ulfric with your cowardice!"

Some in the rear ranks mutter expletives but the housecarl had earned a reputation for harsh punishment so most keep their mouths shut as he keeps yelling out insult after insult.

Though he did not do it without purpose. The war veteran currently busying himself with enraging his own men knew that they were utterly terrified by the events of the past couple of days and he was doing his damndest to turn that fear into something a tad more productive.

He did not have time for much more after all.

He kept going for minute after minute, his throat growing coarse with all the yelling and just as he was finally about to be content with the furious glares his men were sending him he heard a loud *CRUNCH* from the gate.

The cracks spreading across it's entire surface told him enough.

He stood before his men, his back turned to them, and raised his blade and shield "Hear me sons and daughters of Skyrim! Whatever comes through that gate you will STAND YOUR GROUND!"

The moment he finished speaking whatever weapon the legion was using smashed into the gate once again. The rebels prepared to be assaulted by some kind of Dwemer abomination or even a Daedra.

The sight that greeted them may as well have been worse.

King Torygg's Court Mage stood before them, a sword in one hand and dagger in the other, and his mere presence sent shivers down the rebels' spines, sparing not even the housecarl.

And then the mage charged.

(Tiberius' POV)

I raise my shortsword upwards and command my men "Forward! For the Empire!"

We all rush in after Reyvin, our speed barely enough to stop him from getting utterly surrounded and just enough to give us full view of the sheer butchery he was committing.

Whenever his dagger stabbed, the target would shrivel up like all water was painfully dragged out of them, and wherever his sword met flesh the wounds would spread like spiderweb shaped cracks, almost always ending a life with a mere touch.

I focus back on my own fight just in time to see one of our ranks getting pushed, with a flick of my hand a group of my soldiers appears in the weakened formation, pushing the rebels back.

A troop of archers forms up atop a roof behind us as we manage to push the enemy formation back, I swiftly have my own magi cover them in flames.

My mind slowly grows numb as the slaughter continues and the deathly march of the Emperor's legion continues ever onwards.

(General POV)

Atop one of the taller noble manors in Falkreath, the remaining band of the hold's elite marksmen gathered. Their resolve was made firm by days of watching their friends die pointlessly and all twelve of them found their target the moment he bloodily smashed through their comrades' line in the city's central square.

They took their positions and prepared their most potent arrows, all of them coated in vicious manaburn imported from Black Marsh. They waited for but a moment and then as one, loosed their arrows at the vile sorcerer butchering their men.

The elf did not even look at them, nor did he make any indication of noticing them. He merely stopped moving for a split second, allowing the arrows to sink into Stormcloak flesh and then continued weaving through the sea of corpses of his own creation.

"The b-bastard can see us?!" One of the younger marksmen sputtered and snarled at once.

"Calm yourself Erik." An older veteran snapped at him "Come now brothers, once again." He commanded, even though deep down he already understood how pointless it was.

They never got to draw their bows.

A massive flaming bird appeared from seemingly nowhere, swiftly taking off the heads of two of the marksmen and setting another four on fire with brilliant golden flames.

Before they even managed to turn, another got his throat pecked out while three more were burned in the ever-expanding flames.

Erik drew an arrow with shaky hands, barely managing to place it atop his longbow just in time to watch the demon bird peck out the old veteran's eyes out in two swift bobs of its vile burning head.

"Am I getting an eye fetish?" Erik was utterly stunned to hear the bird speak with a pure and cheerful voice.

The burning eyes turned to him as blood evaporated from the gigantic hawk "Don't answer that." The bird commanded.

All Erik could do before his death was curse his father for making him join the rebellion... and thoroughly soil his pants.

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Knock knock

I demand rock

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