I teleport my party via wayshrine to the one by the Ayleid ruin that shall not be named, the one closest to the border to Malabal Tor, and… quickly realize that I apparently wanted to avoid the place so badly that I took us to Redfur Trading Post instead. Blinking for a moment, I put my hand back on the wayshrine and get us over to the correct one. Fortunately, the wayshrine is way up at the top of the cliff and Eran is quite firm in me not going near cliffs anymore. I’m glad someone’s always looking out for me.
A Khajiit merchant is near the wayshrine, mildly surprised at our sudden appearance but quickly recovering at the prospect of customers who, if they’re capable of teleporting around, might have money. She looks less than amused when she asks if we need anything and I tell her “moon sugar” until she realizes I’m being serious and not just making a racist joke. And directs us back to Redfur Trading Post. Why didn’t I think of that before teleporting over here? (Honestly, though, it’s not like there’s not plenty of places I can get it.)
Anyway, we make a quick jaunt back and forth again, and set forth across scenic bridges spanning picturesque waterfalls next to gorgeous giant wasps and quite a lot of monkeys. So many monkeys. Why doesn’t that carnival we visited that one time have monkeys? They’d be a huge hit if they could teach them to juggle or something. They’ve got to be at least as smart as Nords.
We pass some terrified refugees as we near the border and find out what’s going on. Velyn Harbor is under attack, because of course it is. Fortunately, it’s not Sea Elves this time, but Redguards! Or Ra Gada, as the locals call them. That’s a nice switch! It’s not like I didn’t just finish beating up the finest legendary swordsmen the Redguards had earlier this week or anything!
“Yes!” I say, undeterred. “Something different to fight!”
The refugees are confused by my sudden good cheer as I hurry past to see if anyone’s in charge of defending the town. Along the way, Gelur tosses some quick healing spells to the ones who look worse off and does what she can without having to pause.
We run into a lieutenant who thinks we’re going the wrong way only for a brief moment before realizing I’m holding a battle axe and looking gleeful.
“You got here awfully quick if you’re reinforcements,” the lieutenant says. “Did one of the mages get word out, or did you just happen to be coming this way?”
“The latter,” I say. “Call me Neralion. We work for Queen Ayrenn. What’s the situation here?”
“Eyes of the Queen?” the lieutenant (Ehran) says. “You’ve got that mismatched and ragged look about you. No offense, I’m glad you’re here and we could use your talents.”
He explains about how the Redguards attacked at the same time as some Orcs, which makes it likely the two are in collusion for whatever reason. The Thalmor were here on orders from Queen Ayrenn to escort the Green Lady to the Silvenar, in a city named Silvenar. It’s probably less confusing than it sounds. The captain is missing and some townspeople are still trapped in buildings, so he asks if we can locate her and rescue people.
“Consider it done!” I say.
“Why are you so cheerful about this?” the lieutenant wonders.
“Because I’m fighting something that isn’t Daedra, undead, corrupted plant things, insane cultists, or Sea Elves with giant fucking snakes!”
“I can’t argue with that sentiment, at least…”
We start cutting a path through town, stopping briefly to light a wayshrine down by the water. We locate several civilians and instruct them to get to safety by following the path of dismembered Orcs. The lieutenant wants to put together a militia, and at least some of the civilians are wanting to fight for their home.
I step out onto the balcony at the Mages Guild (not wasting time looking for rare books or anything) and look over the dead bodies and the Thalmor and militia securing the town. “Wow, they work fast.”
“Neri, you killed most of them,” Eran says.
“We,” Merry says. “The burned ones were me and the ones full of arrows were Ilara-daro. But if we were keeping count, the lunatic with the battle axe charging into the middle of things would likely win, yes.”
“He makes a good distraction,” Ilara adds with an amused twitch of her whiskers.
I hop off the balcony down to the square below. Unlike cliffs, Eran hasn’t complained too much about my balcony-jumping habit, presumably because jumping off a second-floor balcony is a lot less likely to kill you than falling off a cliff and I have to get my joy somewhere.
In front of the Fighters Guild, a sergeant is starting to try to train some of the civilians who want to fight but… I’d be generous here, but so far as I can tell, young Altmer aren’t even taught the first thing about being in a fight, and many of the Khajiit and Bosmer aren’t much more skilled even if they’re quicker on their feet about it. Does the Dominion really expect to conquer Tamriel with nothing more than Ayrenn’s smile? I’ve really been neglecting giving them tactical advice and I could have been helping them much more as a general rather than as an adventurer.
Except an adventurer is needed right now, not a general, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. While this is the sort of situation soldiers or a militia would be needed for, a lot of the bullshit going around is something only a small group of highly trained individuals could manage. It wasn’t an army that brought down Estre (twice), or any of the other dumb things I’ve had to fix lately. It was a team that can move fast and hard and can get to the bottom of weird magic and fight ridiculous monsters.
The sergeant informs me that the lieutenant took some hot-headed civilians across the bridge looking for the captain, who she informs me is an incompetent bitch who pulled strings to get this assignment for the prestige, and she would prefer that the lieutenant survive because he’s competent and not an asshole. She does not use those particular words to inform me of this but that’s the gist of it.
I have to question that competence by the time we find him. While he and a number of civilians and Thalmor are still alive, they’re in a tenuous position and have left themselves wide open for attack on all sides with no cover at all. They are all going to get themselves killed. I take a deep breath. They need a general today, not an adventurer. I put on my best Hortator posture and approach him purposefully.
“Lieutenant,” I say. “I see you have taken the liberty of securing the bridge. Status report.”
He tells me about how eager he is to rescue the captain and he wants to send a runner up the road to warn the next town in case they fail. I don’t bother telling him that if we fuck up here and I die repeatedly, I’ll just go get an army myself, because it would just lead to too many awkward questions I don’t have time for. And I don’t have enough confidence in this lieutenant to be able to pull this off with the forces he has. I think I’d best cut off any serieses of terrible plans before they begin.
“I will clear the gate to allow the runner to escape,” I say. “You remain here and hold the bridge.”
“But, the captain—”
I step close to him and lower my voice. “You are to prioritize the survival of the civilians. Keep the invaders off this bridge and take no unnecessary risks.”
The lieutenant stares at me for a moment as if trying to figure out if I actually outrank him or otherwise have the authority to order him around. “The captain is still the one in charge here.”
“Given that the captain is missing or incapacitated and you are more intent upon rescuing her than doing your duty, I’m taking command here,” I say firmly. “If you don’t like it, take it up with Queen Ayrenn, but I can guarantee you that she’ll be more happy with ‘doing what Neralion says’ than ‘refusing to do what Neralion says and getting everyone killed’. Hold this bridge, lieutenant. Those are your orders.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
He finally buckles. “Yes, sir.” He relays the new orders to his unit, and they reposition themselves.
Before I go, I give a few pointers on archer placement, and then head off to clear the gate. I don’t mention that I suspect the captain of being a racist bandit instead of just being incompetent. I’ve been dealing with the Veiled Heritance so much that I’m seeing them everywhere even with Estre double-dead (they might not have gotten the memo or just have wanted revenge, after all). Towns failing at defenses that they had just beefed up? Ships landing with no warning? Something doesn’t smell right here. Even an incompetent captain couldn’t have done so badly unless they were deliberately sabotaging the defenses.
Hiding behind a rock near the road, we find an Altmer complaining loudly enough that I have to wonder why some Orc hasn’t gutted him by now. He’s wounded, and Gelur spares him enough healing to make sure it won’t be too serious while conserving her magicka. Upon being pressed, he asks if we can find his lost tools and doesn’t want to tell us even what we’re looking for.
I put my face in my palm. “Okay, I really don’t care if you’re brewing skooma or whatever, but if we don’t know what you want, you’re just going to have to search the town once we slaughter everyone.”
At that, he reluctantly describes what junk he’s looking for, but I determine not to waste too much time on this shit. It would be more sensible to do after the battle, and let it not be said that I never do sensible things.
My party makes our way through the rugged terrain off the road toward the gate, not wanting to draw the entire invading army down on top of us but also because there’s Orcs hiding in the bushes that are paying much more attention to the road than even some not-especially-stealthy adventurers. By the time I get a good look at the gate, I have to wonder why a runner hadn’t been able to get out yet. The wall doesn’t even cover the entire way out of town. I can easily just walk around it. Who designed this thing?
After seeing off the runner, we return toward the bridge. From the highest vantage point I can find without becoming a pincushion and having to run through town naked, I get a good view of the tactical situation in town. Not the greatest organization I’ve ever seen. This should be doable if no one does anything stupidly heroic. Except possibly me, but I’m smart enough not to perform heroic sacrifices unless they actually help the situation. (Accidents don’t count as heroic unless they happen in the process of doing something bards would sing about and they’d gloss over how you tripped and your axe accidentally decapitated the enemy captain when you dropped it. Not that that’s ever happened to me before.)
I return to find the bridge still being held, although the lieutenant is looking pretty antsy. In the meantime, the sergeant has arrived with reinforcements. When I approach, I hear them quietly discussing what sort of authority I actually have, up until they notice me walking up. I decide to steamroll them with decisive authority before they even bother to open their mouths to question it.
“Good news, troops. I’ve surveyed the enemy movements and determined that we should be able to do this with the forces we have. And really, they’re Wood Orcs. They’re not an army. They’ve been fighting every day since they were old enough to hold a weapon, but they don’t act like one cohesive unit. They’re scattered about the town in small groups and many of them aren’t even paying much attention.”
Without pausing for breath long enough for anyone else to get a word in edgewise, I start handing out orders. Much as I’m pretty sure I could just wipe out the Redguards and Orcs by myself, it would take too long if I were being careful enough not to get overwhelmed and possibly having to respawn and walk back from the wayshrine repeatedly. They’d eventually figure it out.
I have the lieutenant hold the bridge along with a couple steady Thalmor and a handful of civilians who want to participate but I don’t trust not to get themselves hurt, and impress upon them how very important this is. The sergeant is level-headed and sensible, so I have her unit cover my flank as we press into the town.
There’s a Skyshard at the top of the cliff. I can sense it and it itches at my senses that I can’t go up and get it right now. It’ll still be there later, I tell myself. I’m being the Hortator right now, and the Hortator doesn’t get distracted by trivial things in the middle of a battle.
Anyway, long story short, we’re completely awesome and the Orcs don’t stand a chance. We make it to the docks and send orders back to the lieutenant to secure the town behind us and root out anyone that might have been hiding and make sure no one is sneaking up behind us or playing dead (although the way I kill things, it’s very difficult to ‘play’ dead).
The Ra Gada captain is holed up in the lighthouse, so I go in and take care of him myself. The remaining Ra Gada have retreated to their ships, but haven’t tried to leave yet.
“Alright,” I say. “I’m going to strip naked and run screaming into their hold carrying kindlepitch and fire salts. I recommend standing back.”
The sergeant stares at me wordlessly, failing to comprehend that I’m serious. Eran and Merry just sigh in unison.
“He’ll be fine,” Eran says, catching my pack as I toss it to him. “He does this sort of thing all the time.”
The sergeant does not look particularly reassured, but goes along with it as my friends usher everyone off the docks.
The thing about ships? Most of them have a lot of flammable bits. And did you know that kindlepitch and fire salts are things you can just buy? Of course I stocked up. And I really want to blow something up.
If the sergeant was confused at my antics, the Ra Gada have no idea what hit them. I giggle madly as I dance past their attacks, and some of them dive into the water once they realize what I’m holding. I charge down the stairs into the hold and bring my hands together, and the world explodes in heat and light.
I reappear at the wayshrine, naked and still giggling as Ilara passes me my stuff.
“You got here fast,” I say as I pull on my pants.
“Ilara-daro has swift paws and does not wish you to go quite so quickly from ‘competent leader’ to ‘complete lunatic running naked through town’ even if you took a left turn through ‘fiery explosions’.”
The lieutenant and most of the troops didn’t see exactly how I destroyed the beautifully burning ship in the harbor and so salute me respectfully as I go by and give me reports on how the town is under control now. The sergeant, on the other hand, is giving me a wide-eyed look and has clearly changed her mental evaluation of me from ‘competent leader’ to ‘terrifying motherfucker’.
Merry clears his throat as we approach. “I might have suggested a means of destroying the Ra Gada vessels that did not involve nudity and self-immolation, but I did not wish to intrude upon your entertainment.”
“Neralion, sir,” the sergeant says, saluting me and remaining steadfastly professional with some effort. “We found Captain Cularalda after you, ah, blew up half the docks.”
You see why I didn’t bother mentioning her name. I’ll need to remember the sergeant’s, though. I like her. I also completely missed her name.
“Where is she, sergeant?” I say. “I wish to question her myself.”
“She was hiding under the docks, but the explosion sent her scrambling into the lighthouse,” the sergeant says. “I put guards on the door to make sure she didn’t go anywhere before you got here. Didn’t even have a scratch on her.”
“Thank you, sergeant,” I say. “Good work, everyone. Time to get some answers.” I gesture to Ilara to follow and head inside.
“I will have Sergeant Linaarie court-martialed!” the captain is blustering. “She has no authority to detain me!”
Was that her name? Alas, no one is perfect. I mentally dub the competent sergeant ‘Linny’.
“The good sergeant was acting on my authority, captain,” I say. “Neralion. Eye of the Queen. And I have questions for you.”
“Eye of the Queen?” the captain scoffs. “You overstep your authority. The Eyes of the Queen are nothing more than Ayrenn’s filthy, sketchy pets.”
“I don’t think you quite understand your position here, captain,” I snarl, leaning close. “I’m the… left foot of Queen Ayrenn, about to stomp on your face if you give me reason to, and you haven’t done anything to give me reason not to. If I gut you right now and tell them you were a traitor, no one will question it, because from where I stand, you certainly look like it.”
“A traitor?” the captain says, shocked. “Me? This is preposterous!”
I give her an even look. “Tell me exactly what happened here, captain. Talk quickly. Your life depends on it.”
The captain starts talking, still tossing out insults to everyone and everything in the process. What comes out is possibly something worse than being a racist bandit traitor, but someone so criminally incompetent that I can’t believe she ever got this position in the first place, or for that matter, was allowed out of a nursery.
“One moment,” I say. “Do keep talking but I doubt anything you say will help at this point.” I sift through my bag and locate some moon sugar candy, and pop a piece into my mouth.
“You’re… eating candy?” the captain says in puzzlement.
“Moon sugar,” I say. “I’m afraid what you’ve just said has made me even angrier than if you’d simply been a traitor and if I don’t calm down I will probably do something unpleasant to you. You are an embarrassment to the Dominion and you should be ashamed to call yourself a High Elf. If I hadn’t come along when I did and taken charge of the situation, it’s likely that everyone here would have died. As it is, enough lives were lost here and their blood is on your hands. Bah. I’ll leave you in the sergeant’s capable hands. I’m going to go become a higher elf than you’ll ever be.”
I step back outside in disgust.
“What did she have to say for herself, sir?” Sergeant Linny asks. “Was she a traitor?”
I sigh. “I wish she were. I’d rather deal with competent traitors I can sort of respect than incompetent fools with just enough authority to be dangerous to their own side. Deal with her as you see fit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going to go get lunch and take a nap,” I say. “Wake me when the Green Lady shows up or if the town is on fire again. I trust you can tell the difference between a Dominion ship and a Covenant one, unlike the captain in there.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant says with sour smirk. “Thank you, sir. We would have lost a lot more people if you hadn’t shown up.”
I’m glad that’s done with, and I’m ready to sleep for a day and a half, not just a power nap. Being the Hortator is exhausting.