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Seanu Reaves

The Shogun of Gaming
Chapter 10

Malus was running, the sun beating upon his sweat drenched body. It stung his burning red eyes which were still a bit sensitive. He was young. Only twenty summers at the most, not that he even knew his birthday. He was clad in some old and worn Stormcloak armor, the blue actually contrasting with his light blue-grey skin. Upon his hip was a rusted and plain iron sword. His equipment looked awkward on the elf, as it was obviously meant for a heavy muscular Nord man. It impeded his run but he was still faster than most of the other soldiers he had seen. His fellow storm cloaks still hated him. Which actually lead to him being spared. He thought back onto what had happened.

He was assigned to a small detachment of soldiers meant for Falkreath hold. They decided to make camp in the plains of Whiterun. Malus didn’t know when the attack occurred but he could have summed up that it likely occurred when the clouds blocked out the almost full moon. The men were likely disoriented from drink and fatigue. They were weak, Malus often thought. City folk that bared the cold but never suffered it. He heard noises from the camp. He wouldn’t have even noticed it if the wind didn’t happen to shift. Silence. That awkward absence of sound that rarely ever pierced civilized folks existence. Malus knew it well, after all when escaping racist Guards and drunkards who enjoyed harassing the people of the Grey Quarter you had to be able to hide even when there was nowhere to. An owl hooted, as Malus dropped into a crouch. He moved within that silence like it was a second home. It was suffocating but he moved deeper into the camp. Something is wrong, Malus thought and knew in his heart. Not even a snore to break the camp’s silence. There was no sign of even a struggle but Malus knew if he checked the tents there would be dead men within. Suddenly one of the tent flaps opened and out came a large Nord. His face was covered in shadows but Malus could see his eyes as the figure looked around the camp. Satisfied with his work and Malus also saw something in those eyes that made his heart want to stop for fear of catching the figure’s attention. The figure turned towards Malus and the dark elf quickly ducked behind the corner. Hearing the footsteps come close, and ever closer.

Malus’ eyes slowly opened as he sat up, he could feel his body covered with a thin film of sweat. As his mind came to he realized he was in the forest still. He realized that the crown was likely still in the snow. Malus cursed to himself, after all that made all his work for naught. He turned to see Slade, wrapped in a gray and white patchwork cloak. He was nearly impossible to see, the only hint was his orange face paint, and Malus was awed by his technique. It would be quite the tool for ambushes, Malus thought, putting the idea into the back of his mind. Malus turned to see the imperial in a standard bedroll. His face twisted into a slight smirk. Dreaming of Family, Malus thought with a tinge of jealousy. Or a lover. As Malus stood he nodded to Dales who returned the salute. His armor was stiff from the cold, but if Malus moved he could thaw out what bit of frost formed. Because the fine elven material didn’t stick as much as steel while also insulating that much better. Malus had a shiver down his spine waiting for a crossbow bolt that didn’t come.

Dales watched the elf turn towards Windhelm. Funny, Dales thought. You would think he would head back to the ruins. Dales thought about the strange artifact that the elf had with him when he was shot. He doesn’t seem like just a tomb raider, Dales began to deduce. He isn’t even like an adventurer, he is a soldier. And so Dales looked in the direction Malus went. Wondering what it was about that elf that so interested him. Maybe it was all the strange occurrences Dales assumed. Maybe Malus was just the old guard experiencing another. “Talk of dragons, Stormcloak corpses at that ruin, Thalmor movements, butchered Orphanage Matrons,” Dales whispered to himself. “What do the Nine have planned for us?”
 

Seanu Reaves

The Shogun of Gaming
Chapter 11

He could feel them watching him, the wolves, through the trees. Malus was happy he was healthy, because he would have been in a bad position for as he returned home upon the road the weather was getting worse. Still, Malus thought. That is not a good omen to be stalked by wolves. He heard a howl and suddenly the eyes upon his back were gone. It sent shivers down his spine that resonated within his entire being. Yet he was still uneasy, he may be in Stormcloak lands, but Malus learned he could never be too careful. Malus winched as his lungs burned slightly more intensely, and he clutched at his heart. Malus coughed and would have sighed if the action wouldn’t make his pain even worse. I have to go to the temple again, he cursed. So soon, too soon. Then he heard it, a lone wolf howling to the night moons. Secunda and Masser, Malus recited. Lorkhan’s sundered halves. Malus snapped himself out of his own thoughts are his head snapped to the right. There upon the hill between the trees, standing proudly, was an ice wolf. Grey fur making the beast hard to see like Dales’ cloak. Malus watched the wolf as it watched him. The two hunter’s watched each other intently for what felt like hours before the wolf turned and ran deeper into the forest. Malus exhaled, not even realized he was holding his breath. He decided absent mindedly to check his pack, maybe eat something. As his hand delved into the knapsack he soon grew frantic.

“No, no, no, no,” He whispered. “Where is it? Where is it?”

Soon the weather began to get worse, and a fog like haze descended onto the road. Malus in his panic violently poured out the contents of his pack. There was in fact some bread and cheese, but Malus heart sank as among the daggers, potions, and food the crown was missing. Malus dropped to his knees as it sunk in how much he lost on this mission. And yet he did not break, he simply did what he always did. As an orphan, Malus learned to accept and move on. At times it made him cold, but truthfully he was a sentimental as any other man. Yet he was a being dominated by an obsession with pragmatism. Then he heard it on the wind, it was faint. It was many men, their heavy steps unbecoming of a sneak attack. Malus found a smile creeping to his face. His frustrations made him bloodthirsty, and needed some action.

The fog was like a sheet, trapping Malus into a small arena of visibility. Perfect, Malus thought. It held a certain tactical advantage as the larger force would have a harder time finding him. He could hear them moving, well he could hear many men moving, but not necessarily all of the bandits. Suddenly through the white blanket, dark shapes began to appear. The Talon soon left its scabbard as Malus charged towards the nearest shadow. Before the man could speak the wickedly curved blade ripped through the bandit’s ribs and armor. The bandit screamed, but Malus was already running through the fog cloaking his movements.

“Well that isn’t a good sign,” The leader of the Bandit’s laughed, turning towards a large Nord standing proudly by his side. The screams of his men ripped through the fog, and the Bandit leader knew he picked the wrong target. The one time we find a lone non-Nord in this god forsaken forest, He thought. We get the reincarnation of the Hircine-damned Nerevarine. He soon grew deadly serious as he realized his men didn’t figure out their disadvantage. “Fall back! Regroup! Goddamn fools, don’t you know what he is doing?!?”

Silence. All there was left is silence. The bandit leader sighed as he knew he should establish more stringent recruitment policies. He and his second turned away from the road ready to cut their losses. But there he was, covered in blood and smile across his face. The bandit leader smiled at the rabid-looking Dark Elf, pulling a small vial from inside his shirt and quickly drank the small amount of liquid. As he was about to draw his mace from his belt his second turned to speak with the bandit leader and whispered something in his ear.

“Oh really?” The bandit leader said, only to be answered with more whispering.

“I suppose that is a good point,” The bandit leader turned from his second. “I am sorry friend but we have important business to attend to.”

Malus watched the pair with a tired eye, his bloodlust was slated and he didn’t care to kill any more if he did not have to. He sheathed his blade and watched the men turn away from him. Strange, Malus thought. You would think that they would have less trust. But as Malus took a step forward the imperial bandit called back to him. “My friend. You should go on your merry way. Oh I will even be generous, you may loot my foolish men who fell to your slaughter.”

“Well… My friend… Who are you?” Malus called out. It was hard for the elf to spit out the words “My Friend.”

“I am known as Indicum. Pleasure to meet you,” The bandit said as he disappeared into the mist. Malus could only stare in awe at the general direction of the bandits who just disappeared into the mists. What strange men, Malus thought. Not even a poor writer could come up with something so strange.
 

Seanu Reaves

The Shogun of Gaming
Chapter 12 Castle Dour, Solitude

General Tulius was hunched over a map of Skyrim, his eyes squinting with intensity though they betrayed his lack of sleep. His eyes scanning over the small red and blue flags that dotted the map, in his hand another small flag of red. Tulius knew that unless he wanted this stalemate to continue he would need another master stroke, like his maneuver at Dark Water Crossing. Tulius kept finding his eyes drawn to the hold capital of Whiterun, which seemed determined to stay neutral in this conflict. It was in such a key location, that literally both sides were begging for Jarl Balgruuf’s support. Tulius was sure that the Jarl would stay loyal to the Empire, but it was still far too important to leave up to chance. It was also the only logical target for Ulfric.

“The only other hold worth taking,” Tulius whispered to himself. “Would be Markarth… And it is simply impossible for him to consider.”

Tulius rolled his troop marker in his hand, mind planning as many steps ahead as he could. Twenty if he had to guess. Legate Rikke entered the room and silently watched her commander now wanting to disrupt his thoughts. It was a few minutes of Tulius tracing movements on the map, and calculating the number of troops among other variables. He finally looked at Rikke and acknowledged her to speak. Rikke nervously cleared her throat before making her report.

“Sir. Kaisar and Hadvar have returned. It seems they are the only survivors with Kaisar being gravely wounded.”

“And the Crown, Legate?”

“Lost due to uncalculated complications… Sir.”

“What?” The General’s voice taking on an irritated tone.

“There was more than Draugr and Stormcloaks. Hadvar said they were attacked by a Dark Elf.”

“So you are telling me… One man… Through off our entire operation… Leading to the death of a squad… This better be some kind of sick joke. Legate.”

“He was…” Rikke started to explain what she heard from Hadvar’s report.

“By the eight! Damn it Rikke,” Tulius raised his voice for just a fraction of a second. “We do not have enough resources to lose one man let alone eight.”

“Sir. Allow me to finish. Legionnaire Hadvar said that this Dark Elf was if not a mage, of a magical affinity,” Rikke said. “And he refered to himself as Stormclaw.”

“Stormclaw…” Tulius whispered having been alerted of that moniker before. Tulius rose and went to the end table, and opened the drawer to pull out some letters. Soon he found it, a letter whose seal was of the Penitus Occultas.

General Tulius,

We of the Penitus Occultas have been commanded by the Emperor to help you in the war effort. Now for now we have two key pieces of intelligence. First off. We have good reason to believe Ulfric himself will be outside Windhelm, inspecting some of his mines. We have reason to believe this means he shall be camping at Dark Water Crossing, and only have up to twenty soldiers with him. Unfortunately other investigations mean we cannot move on this information. Not that we want our presence to be felt in Skyrim.

The second piece we believe to be important to you. We have finally gathered enough evidence to conclude that it is not common bandits killing nobles and hitting shipments. It was all speculation before but now we see it is individuals or small groups. Traces of magic and exact sword strikes speak of finesse missing from bandits and other Stormcloak raiding parties. Due to lack of survivors we can conclude these are skilled warriors. We have reason to believe this is the work of Ulfric’s answer to the Penitus Occultas. This paired with the rumors of something called ‘Stormclaw’ leads us to conclude that this is the work of an organization within the Stormcloaks. If you deem it necessary we will assign someone to directly deal with the Stormclaw organization, to allow you to focus on the war.

Long live Titus Mede II,

Commander Maro.

Tulius suddenly turned back to the map pulling out another smaller map of Skyrim and began to mark it with charcoal. His mind was whirling as he suddenly and furiously began forming a plan. He called back to Rikke suddenly.

"Get me Kaisar right now."

"Yes General."
 

Seanu Reaves

The Shogun of Gaming
Chapter 13 Palace of Kings, Windhelm

Malus took a deep breath, eyes fighting to hold their determined, neutral gaze. Ulfric’s detachment and disappointment compared to Galmar’s howling rage Malus didn’t know which was worse. It took all of his willpower not to yawn, avert his gaze, or simply walk out. There was no words uttered in his defense, for he could not find any for himself. As time went on Galmar soon lost his bluster and started whispering racial slurs towards Malus. Malus accepted the racial slurs in stride, for he had suffered all of them before. Before this is over, Malus thought holding in his rage. I will silence that man’s tongue. Malus soon shook such vicious thoughts away from his mind. Galmar may be many things like a thug and a fool, but he was an ally. Malus had to keep his focus, nothing else mattered but the prize of earning his people the respect they needed from the Jarl. While Malus was imagining the many ways he would be killing Galmar, Ulfric rose from the throne.

“We need to plan our next move,” Ulfric announced, his voice simply cold and commanding. “Malus… You may go. I will send for you, when we have another mission we think you can handle.”

“Yes my Jarl,” Malus bowed, and turned towards the door of the Palace of Kings. He focused on keeping a steady pace, not to fast but not too slow. A pace that could give off the air of the perfect soldier. Forever focused on his goals and not his failures. But as he exited those doors his heart beat heavily on his chest. Something about his first real failure really ate at him. He had sometimes failed for instance assassinating a key noble from Cyrodiil, but sometimes they would run into the forest to have to try to survive the wild and the bandits. Slade and Heron, Malus thought. I want to blame them yet I can’t for they ensured I survived. Survived… Just like Zevra, who had just stumbled into the stables while Malus was in the Palace of Kings having his audience with Ulfric. Not that Malus knew that just yet.

Everything about that mission seemed to have been a disaster. Malus’ record had been soiled by this failure, and he took that blow far too seriously. He had this complex that he had to be perfect because he had to raise the views of the Dunmer to the Stormcloaks entirely on his own. As he took the shortcut past the Hall of the Dead, his mind was still distant. He didn't even look towards the Grey Quarter. Even though he couldn't see it, he could feel it. It made his lungs burn with something else, and try as he may Malus couldn’t get the sensation to go away. Regret. As if he knew he wasn’t changing anything or even that he was making it worse. Such thoughts had become much more frequent as he thought of his failure.

He looked up the steps towards Windhelm’s small market district. He was like a lost puppy, not having anything to do until he was called for. Between missions he often was an introvert, staying in his small quarters in the Palace of Kings. Malus wondered why he left the Palace, he didn’t even grab the book he had started to read. As he reached the top of the steps, he froze. There she was working at the forge, Hermir Strong-Heart. Malus could almost see the passion she put into everything she did, the grace and perfection in the way she formed the metal. If you paid close attention, Malus’ infatuation was only hidden from Hermir herself. The way he seemed to go out of his way to have her work on his weapons and armor. The feeble attempts at small talk, and the small smiles he held when she marveled at the Talon.

But then the wind stopped, and he heard something odd. The sound of someone walking, leather upon the stones of Windhelm. But then they disappeared, just no sound mid step. Malus quickly turned on his heels, hand shooting towards the hilt of The Talon. The drowsiness from his verbal lashing was now gone. He was alert and focused, trying to find any sign of a threat. But he was greeted with an empty courtyard. Malus began to gather energy in his left hand, not relieved by the empty area. But he had to let the energy dissipate harmlessly, as a guard watched Malus suspiciously. Even with his direct ties to Ulfric, Malus was just a Dunmer outside the Grey Quarter. He nodded something of a salute towards the guardswoman, and moved to enter the marketplace. Malus noticed how Hermir’s hair fell in the most attractive way when his hand fell to the Talon. But the Talon was missing, in its place was a note. As Malus read, each line seem to push just the right button to make Malus grow more and more enraged.

So he began to cross through the market place, actually ignoring a greeting from Hermir, and began to head towards the Grey Quarter. The pain of regret began to feed his anger, and his anger fed his regret. This escalated to the point Malus had an aura of pain that anyone could feel if not see. As he walked to took in all the sights of his old home: the buildings, the people, and especially the Urchins. It seemed to bring perspective back to Malus as he approached a few orphans trying to hide from him. Malus took out his coin purse and gave each child five coins. He knew they would be forced to give it up to one of the many gang leaders, or be robbed by another child. But the chance that one may ascend warmed Malus’ heart.

He soon found it, the old warehouse where he used to live, with a sigh and a burning in his lungs Malus entered the warehouse. He walked silently between the old shelves and crates, it was just as he remembered. Somehow it haunted him how little seemed to have changed. He made his way upstairs as the note commanded him, remembering to avoid every creaky step. Sometimes he would lightly step on a creaky step, freeze and gently continue up the steps. Old habits die hard, and moving silently in this old warehouse was one of them. He was at the top of the steps and turned to be greeted by another Dunmer. Malus didn’t recognize him until he spoke.


“Malus! By my ancestors!” A familiar warm and deep voice sang out.

“Hex? Is it really you?” Malus cried out, a wave of happiness of seeing someone he called brother filled the void of regret. He and Hex drew closer, and Hex seemingly out of thin air produced the Talon. Malus didn’t slow his step as Hex offered the naked blade to him. Instead of grabbing his dear Talon, Malus smiled and embraced Hex in a hug.

“Brother,” They whispered nearly in unison. “It has been far to long.”
 

Seanu Reaves

The Shogun of Gaming
Chapter 14

Malus was reveling talking to Hex again. Often people don’t realize what is missing from their life until they find it, and for Malus it was having a friendly conversation. He was smiling a bit more again, as they talked of each other’s adventures. Hex had not changed that much often his stories spoke of thievery both traditional and confidence ploys, though he also talked about using his sleight of hand and mystical skills to entertain children. He even revealed that he didn’t forgo his childhood name opting it into his new one. Daeis “Hex” McKeena, Malus thought. Rolling the name through his mind. Malus had to wonder how many people in the province of Skyrim would be educated enough to catch the play on the old imperial phrase. Malus was about to reveal that he had been working for Ulfric when Hex spoke up, shivering a little.

“By my ancestors, remember when we used to sleep here. Let us go, I will even consider buying you a drink,” Hex winked at that.

“Yeah we came from hard times didn’t we…? And sounds good. Definitely would seal this reunion.”

Malus tied the Talon to his hip and with a smile followed his old friend down the stairs of the warehouse. Somehow his lungs did not hurt as much, as if the warmth of seeing his “brother” again somehow actually warmed his body and soul. But as they stepped out into the cold streets of the Grey Quarter that feeling soon went away. The cold wind slapped Malus in the face and the fire of his lungs returned. And then did he notice Hex has stopped walking. Malus moved to speak but Hex held up his hand to signal Malus to stay silent. For there were three men, all heavily armed and armored. The obvious leader was a Nord just like any other. He is not a Stormcloak comrade at least, Malus thought with some relief. Soon Malus realized this man’s business with Hex was not as cordial as his own with his quick-fingered friend.

“Oye, Which one of yuh’s is a Daeis McKeena? We are here to teach that thief a lesson.”

Malus cocked an eye at his friend to see Hex wearing his almost trademark disarming grin. Malus was sure that it would not work out this time, seeing how eagerly one of other two thugs were feeling the handles of his weapons, a pair of iron axes. Men looking for any excuse to rough up somebody. Malus let his hand drop to the handle of his sword, after all for all the work he did for Ulfric no one would bat an eye if two Dunmer were beaten or even killed down here. Malus gave Hex one more look, and Hex stepped forward to speak.

“May I ask you one thing? Do you think it is wise to try and assault a Dumner in the Gray Quarter?” Hex said with as much grandeur he could as he pulled out a coin and began to roll it between his fingers. Malus recognized his old friend’s trick immediately. Question is, Malus thought, his body not even itching at the thought of fighting these thugs. Will he help? Or just get in my way?

“We know you are just bluffing,” One of the subordinates said. And all three shared some sinister laughs. Malus joined them and when they realized who had joined in their mirth did some worry creep into the man’s tone. “What’s so funny?”

“The troops… Cheered at the sight of such an agile and powerful creation. With it leading the defense, the Barbarians of Skyrim would never again successfully raid their villages,” Malus recited under his breath. Hex let out a small chuckle as the Talon of Talos scraped out of its scabbard. But the Nord thugs were less than chipper at his performance.

“What is ‘is problem?” One said readying himself.

“Oh so you got yourself a bodyguard,” The leader said trying to sound strong. Hex just giggled again, his eyes never wavering from the leader. The man was staring at The Talon. It was black as night and shone with a glossy color that spoke of its craftsmanship. He could tell it was not the weapon of a cheap backstreet bodyguard. But he could not waver now.

“They named it Chimarvamidium, the Hope of the Chimer!” Malus finished the line from the Chimarvamidium. A story Malus loved ever since his “Mother” first read it to him all those years ago. A tale that reminded him to avoid the mistakes of his forefathers.

“What are you on about? Looks like we get to teach these fools a lesson boys!” He turns to find both of his associates laying on the ground, Hex’s spell paralyzing them and removing their advantage of numbers. He quickly turned and realized his mistake. He could barely let out a scream as the Talon painted a read line across the man’s neck and sprayed the man’s blood against the alley walls. Malus was not yet finished as the Nord was turned around by the force of the blow Malus grabbed him by the shoulder and nearly ripped his helmet with the head inside it off. Spraying blood over the man’s allies who were slowly regaining control of their bodies again.

Both of the men were trying to move quickly, but between the numbness from the paralysis and the cold blood of their leader they were simply falling over. Malus could tell that the man who had spoken earlier was doing so out of fear. But he looked at the other one, moving slowly with purpose now. The blood was becoming more like a gel. Odd that he isn’t scared, Malus thought. By my ancestors, what I did would move me to cowardice of my enemy.

When the man stood, Malus froze as they made eye contact. His eyes were icy blue, but also showed a strange compassion. Eyes that would move the rockiest souls, and Malus did not even completely have his mental wards up. Those eyes were like that of a baby dog, and Malus felt himself lowering his blade. The man put away his large two-handed axe and opened his mouth, revealing a mouth with no tongue. He started to walk away, as if what had happened was simply a harsh argument. Maybe for that man, Malus thought. That was all it was, business gone bad, or maybe his business wasn't about the stolen items.

Malus wondered where Hex was, as he shook his odd thoughts away and found Hex going through the dead leader’s pockets. Hex laughed as he pulled a sack of gold from the man’s pocket and the contract. It seemed that the note was causing this mirth.

“I see very little has changed,” Malus said deadly serious. “And where did the last one go?”

“What can I say Malus. I could say the same for you,” Hex countered still smiling. “I mean seriously quoting a verse from an old bedtime story? Letting that man go. Have you no sense of ruthlessness? The last one I slit his throat, took his gold, then turned it invisible so no one will find it until we are hopefully gone from this place.”

Malus sighed maybe his childhood friend was right. Not only did he go over the top citing the book before battle, he wasn't even fully engaged to the thought of combat. Malus wondered why now of all times, Hex decided to find him, because if there is one thing Malus came to realize is nothing ever happens by chance. What Hex said next froze Malus’ blood more than the frigid Windhelm air.

“Malus,” Hex said sincerely, his voice growing grave. “Mother called a reunion. The Family needs you.”
 

Seanu Reaves

The Shogun of Gaming
Chapter 15

Those words hit Malus like a fist to the gut, and he could tell Hex took no pleasure in relaying the message. Both Malus and Hex grew up hoping that the next time they met with their adoptive mother that it would be under pleasant terms. Needless to say, her sending was a shock to both of them. Malus looked at the Talon, and even the blade seem to have a somber expression. There is no denying mother her audience, Malus thought with a heavy heart. As he sheathed the Talon, he simply nodded to Hex. Both Dunmer wondered what to say next, but soon a guard at the main gate broke the silence in which both brothers walked.

“Heard something of a commotion in the Grey Quarter. Any idea what it could have been?” The guard’s voice was full of suspicion, more pointedly at Malus. Mostly due to the guards and other Stormcloaks only seeing Malus alone, let alone with one of his kinsmen.

“Aye,” Malus said, not even glancing at the nervous Hex who seemed to be ready to fight. Or more likely take flight, Malus thought. Hex was never a very direct or trusting Mer. “Some thugs looking to make trouble. Nothing to concern yourself with. I handled the matter personally.”

“I am surprised, I don’t think I have ever seen you down there. With… You know… Your people…”

The guard turned his head to look over Hex only to find the other Dark Elf gone. As if he disappeared into the snow.

“Yeah, I will say it has been a long while,” Malus said with an awkward smile. It stung like a barb in a strange way. Why was so strange to him that I would spend time with other Dark Elves, Malus thought. He had to wonder if his loner lifestyle somehow disconnected him from his people. To them I am Malus, and not a Dark Elf. The revelation shook Malus for it seemed to imply that his work for Ulfric did not actually move his quest for his peoples to be respected forward. There wasn’t even a slight hope that his work would improve relations.

“Either way where are you going?”

“Whiterun. Family business.”

That answer seemed to stun the guard. Malus never made any mention of a family before on any occasion. The fact he was heading to Whiterun also struck the guard. He may not have known Malus’ history but Whiterun for family business?

“You are gonna have to move quickly, a storm is going to blow in.”

“Thank you, I better be off then.” Malus nodded a thanks to the guard and proceeded out the gate. The long bridge of Winterhold greeting him, as the snows whipped around. Malus began to walk down the length of the bridge. Eyes straight ahead and focused. I will need to get a new horse, Malus thought with remorse. Zevra is probably dead by now, but Malus had no time for sentiments like that. After all Mother was waiting. Suddenly, Malus heard his name being called and looked to see Hex on a horse. As Malus approached Hex and his stead, another horse walked into view. It whinnied as if it knew Malus.


“Zevra? Zevra is that you? How in Oblivion did you survive?” Malus cried in joy as he ran up to his horse. Nuzzling Zevra, Malus began to pet her ears. He checked her and realized how closely Zevra came to death. She had barely healed wounds and missing patches of fur from whatever attacked her.

“Aye, I noticed how she responded when she sniffed me. You got yourself a good horse,” Hex said with a smile.

“Definitely seen me through a bit of hard spots,” Malus said. He looked Zevra in the eyes and saw how strong her gaze was. Malus climbed up onto the saddle. “So Hex, while we ride I want to know why mother is calling us back. How did she even find you?”

“She sent Jenassa after me. Ran into her while trying to make friends in Riften.”

“Poor Jena, how does she seem to be doing?”

“She is a mercenary now. Based out of Whiterun. She isn’t a Companion though. She still holds onto her dream of being an artist and not a warrior.”

“Poor girl… Imagine actually being related to Mother. We at least could pretend it was our choice.”

“Aye, something came loose… Needless to say not being picked. On top of the forced dedication… Well… The entire process was difficult… For all of us, but her most of all."

Malus stared off towards the horizon as Hex finished. The silence was tangible as they trotted down the road. As they made their way through the mountains the sky began to clear, and the sun started peeking through the clouds. The warmth hit him like a blanket, and Malus sighed. Turning towards his friend and brother.


“Tell me Hex… Do you still know any songs? Something happy. After all we are going to see the family.”
 

Seanu Reaves

The Shogun of Gaming
Chapter 16
A warm breeze rolled across the mountains east of Whiterun, clouds moving lazily across the blue sky. The air had a slight nip to it, but nothing compared to Windhelm’s perpetual snow. Malus felt his lungs, or more correctly didn’t feel any sting within them. Hex was playing a jaunty tune on a little flute he seemed to have gotten out of thin air. It was strange traveling, not for the sake of a real mission, but simply because he was to see his family. Sure mother’s summons could be seen as a mission, but mostly it was like a reunion. As much as Malus wanted to pretend it would be like other clan meetings, he knew deep down something has happening. Mother was finally making her move, and Malus knew it wasn’t going to be a peaceful thing.

As he looked over to Hex he heard wolves howling and shivered. The three chosen siblings coming together again. The chosen, the new Tribunal. How crazy it still sounds, Malus thought. Yet we would be three like the guardian constellations, I am the warrior, and I will fight. They made their way to Whiterun by going south from Windhelm, following the White River south and then to the east. A set of towers appeared before them, and Malus sighed for he saw bandits milling about these two towers connected by a small catwalk. Hex looked at the towers inquisitively and stopped playing his flute. If only to utter a simple phrase, giving the towers a name for Malus’ reference.

“Valtheim Towers. What do you think Malus?”

Malus sighed as they trotted up the road, drawing closer to the looming towers. A woman in fur armor stepped forward, as if to intimidate the two Dunmer. They sat tall on their horses and glared at the woman. At that moment a cloud passed the sun, and Malus and Hex were dimly lit shades on the road. Red eyes still piercing through the slight gloom. Malus did not have his helmet so his dark hair made the shadows on his face even deeper, his armored form bulking him up even more so with the upward angle the Bandit had to look.

“If you say anything… You will die.”

The bandit could only stare in awe as the two dark elves spurred their horses past the bandit. While Malus rode past, chin high like some Dunmer Lord, Hex couldn’t resist cracking a large smile at the bandit and sticking his tongue out in mockery. Hex laughed as the quaking bandit was aghast at his childish display, fear soon giving way to boiling anger. Hex turned to look at his brother, and his smile fell. Malus seemed getting broodier lately. To the point, Hex was sure that his threat to the bandit was sincere. Maybe the summons is getting to him, Hex thought running a hand through his short white hair. He looked out over the river to see Whiterun looming on top of the hill. Dragonsreach perched ever so precariously. Like a dragon itself in many ways, Hex mused. Malus suddenly picked up his pace a little, and Hex quickly followed suit. Dismounting at the stables, Malus began to walk towards the main gate of the City while Hex began to talk with the Khajiit Caravan that happened to be camping outside the city.

Malus paid his friend no heed as he made his way up the winding road towards the main gate, the guards simply nodded when they saw Malus and unlocked the door. They were Mother’s men then, and they knew that there was to be a reunion. Malus even overheard one say to his fellow, “Which one was that?”

Malus had a frown as he entered the city and looked to see Warmaiden’s. He sighed and went up to the Nord woman working the forge. She glanced at Malus but continued to work the forge as she spoke. “Got some good pieces for sale, more inside.”

“I just need some maintenance on my armor and sword,” Malus said trying to not sound like an angry cave bear.

“There is a changing room inside, unless you like showing yourself off to the world.”
Malus nodded and went inside, and was directed to a small room where he could change. He stripped off his armor and revealed his simple miner clothes underneath. He took out some cheap foot wrappings and worked them onto his tired feet, before putting on some boots. He picked up the pile of equipment he had just taken off and walked out of the room, handing his precious armor and weapons to the man behind the counter.

“It will be a couple hours and thirty septims.”

Malus fished out the coin and nodded. He felt so strange wearing no armor or weapons. It wasn’t that he felt vulnerable as much as he felt naked. Left without what made him unique in the world. Malus sighed, and began to walk around the flourishing town. Hex had just made it through the main gate and jogged up taking stride with his brother.

“Who’s a grumpy bear?” Hex teased, talking as if he was talking to an infant or a dog. “You are, yes... You are.”

“What… Does that even mean…” Malus said, before his hard stare turned soft and he laughed. “You always could make all of us laugh.”

“Malus… I know this reunion was something you were hoping to never happen. And I want to point out we have no obligation to Mother…”

“Actually you do…” A voice called out from behind them. Both Dunmer turned to see another Dark Elf. This one was a woman.

“Jenassa! What a sight for sore eyes you are!” Hex called back, his smile never wavering. He elbowed Malus, who was just staring at his old childhood friend. She had long black hair, and yellow markings upon her face. He felt something stir though the sensation soon disappeared as soon as he noticed it.

“Yeah… Great to see you... I heard you were who came to find Hex.”

“Found him whoring in High Rock… And I mean literally he was whoring himself out for gold.”

Malus had to hold in his laughter, and gave Hex a small smirk. Hex sighed and knew he would have to relay a story, or face Malus’ childish tortures. Jenassa didn’t smile, spoiling what normally would be a cheerful reunion. Malus broke the awkward silence, just as Hex was about to make a bad joke or something to that effect.

“So… Jenassa… When will Mother see us?”
 

A.Auditore

maybe...
and more?
 

Seanu Reaves

The Shogun of Gaming
Chapter 17
Jenassa shrugged at Malus’ question. Her red eyes never wavering, as if Malus was just another target. Hex knew this was just due to her being so broken. It never did sit well with her, Hex thought. Malus leaving for Windhelm, and becoming ingrained with the Stormcloaks. He also knew she would never doubt Mother, her birth mother, until her dying day.

“When she feels like she can afford the time, Whiterun has many eyes. Many of them not friendly.”

That caused Malus to feel a bit of a chill, and not only from lacking armor. The Mother he knew was without a doubt one of the most dangerous women in Skyrim. Outside personal ability, the resources and people she had under her command were staggering. Malus knew she had multiple cells across Tameriel, a network she built across her travels before she settled down in Skyrim. Who or what could she fear? Malus thought. The rumors he was hearing make it sound like all of the possible rivals were dealing with bigger problems, especially because Mother made sure her secrets were kept.

“Hey Malus, think Athis is still here?” Hex said, placing a hand on Malus’ shoulder, snapping his brother from his thoughts.

“Old man loves the companions, Don’t see why he would leave.”

“If Mother is too busy, why not see father, am I right? Or am I right?”

“Father,” Jenassa snorted. “I doubt he deserves such a title. He was a hired teacher, nothing more. Probably lost faith long ago.”

“Try living in Windhelm,” Malus retorted. “Nord’s beat you over the head with their values, even if there is proof they don’t really believe in them anymore, eventually you start to believe it.”

“But you still believe in Mother, right Malus? In what we are trying to achieve.” Jenassa softened her gaze. It was strange to see her shift from dismissive to pleading.

“I never really believed. I just own her a debt, and am honor bound to it.”

“Well, belief can come later. At least you stayed loyal, unlike Gabriella…” Jenassa’s voice wavered just a second, and Hex caught it even if Malus didn’t. “Mother doesn’t abide deserters.”

Hex was shocked to hear about their sister, and turned to Malus. Jenassa walking away, her message delivered. What happened exactly? Hex thought. If Jenassa herself was shaken by what happened or will happen, that was not going to end well. Malus and Gabriella were closer than family, and he was never the most rational when it came to her.

“Well that escalated quickly,” Hex said, trying to lighten the mood. He looked down to see Malus’ hands clenched. “Malus, I know it sounds bad. But Jenassa was just pushing your buttons. I am sure she is fine.”

“Do you think they actually found her?”

“It is possible, but think about it. She disappeared years ago, what are the chances?”

“That isn’t what I asked, Hex.” Malus’ voice grew cold, as if he was preparing himself for a kill. “Do you think they have found Gabriella?”

Hex could only look away, and that was the only answer Malus needed. His rage was slowly building up, his vision going red, but he took a deep breath. Rage fading away, only thing left in his chest was a cold void. It has to be a bluff, he rationalized. Has to be, Gabriella was the best among the three at not being found and she was the smartest. Yet it was still there: the fear, the doubt, the hope. Malus thought about the times they spent together, all of it some of his better memories of his time with mother. And the void when he woke up one day and she was gone. Malus had never seen mother that angry, she swore she would burn Tameriel and Akavir to the ground to give Gabriella what she thought was her due.

“This is Gabriella we are talking about,” Hex said, hoping to comfort his brother. “She always did have good intuition.”

“True, but remember this is Mother we are talking about,” Malus replied, fighting to keep his composure. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked to the sky. “I think I should get some rest. Go ahead and see father. I will be along shortly.”
 
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