In the early hours of the morning, with the faintest hint of light beginning to reveal itself on the horizon we found ourselves high in the ranges above Bruma and in the shadows of Pale Pass. The maintained and solid-footing of the Imperial Highways crossing between the major cities of Cyrodiil and the frontiers was now replaced with the winding shale and granite tracks that led further into the dizzying heights of the mountains. Finally slowing to what I considered to be more reasonable speeds we allowed our most recent mounts to suck in great breaths of the frigid, thinning air as we climbed. The path was tiny, only enough room for a single cart or wagon at a time and winding further up the slopes with the twinkling lights of Bruma a handful of kilometres below us.

  In our own agony we had no appreciation of the sights around us, or the towering walls that jutted from the sides of the sheer cliffs facing us. A hundred kilometres distant, the entirety of the Imperial city could be seen in its majestic glory, burning with the lights of civilisation and surrounded by the impressive expanse of water that was Lake Rumare and where it fed into the Niben.

  Cloud Ruler Temple was built into the side of a cliff that matched the dizzying heights of White Gold Tower, safely secure next to the unscaleable precipice that only the most confident of mages could successfully traverse and only then with potent levitation magicka. The walls of the Fortress-monastery jutted forward in a thick U shape, the flat section built into the cliff and the bottom of the curve home to a gigantic gate twelve metres high and flanked by towers. Built from perfectly shaped stones as heavy as a horse, and almost as large there were little siege engines capable of reducing such defences. This was especially the case as the only way such machines could get within range was to be individually brought up the winding slope and be harassed by fire from the defenders every step of the way. Jauffre was indeed correct in the statement that a few within the fortress could hold off an army. Even a dozen could comfortably defend the road from the towering walls with little to fear from any number of foes.

  Saddle-sore and weary to the point of collapse we initially didn’t notice the armoured figures on the walls, pointing a collection of bows and crossbows in our direction as we plodded ever onwards. Jauffre’s raised hand and cry of greeting was lost to the wind that flowed over from the north and tundras of Skyrim’s interior but the surprise of those manning the fortress was not. Grinding forward and opening to reveal a set of stairs rising up the throat of the fortress the massive gates swung wide, and a handful of armoured and cloaked figures appeared to grasp our reins.

  “Grandmaster!? We were not expecting you.” a voice of one of the figures called out. They all moved with the predatory grace of a wolf as they fanned out and began to lead us into and up the stairs. Inside I could see that the walls were not constructed the same as the curtain walls of a city but in fact were extensions of the upper level of the Fortress itself. This meant that even if an enemy was able to force their way through the gates, they would then have to contend with fighting their way up several dozen short spaced stairs that made it dangerous to find footing while facing a foe.

  “Circumstances have led us here earlier than I expected Cyrus.” Jauffre replied as he slid from the saddle and finally seemed to be showing signs of his real age. “I do trust that everything has been prepared?”

  “Yes Grandmaster.” There was a moment of hesitation as the armoured figure addressing Jauffre looked over our small group and stared at Martin climbing out of his saddle. “That means… is this…?”

  There was a nod. “This is the Emperor’s son, Martin Septim.”

  To a man the group of Blades surrounding us tensed and bowed deeply at the hips, leaving Martin looking extremely embarrassed even despite the obvious amount of pain and discomfort he and the rest of us were experiencing.

  “My Lord!” the Blade Cyrus said, resting his fist against his chest in the manner of the legion. “Welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple! We have not had the honour of an Emperor’s visit in many years!”

  “Cyrus…” Jauffre’s voice was weary and using a tone as though he was speaking to a troubled pupil.

  “Yes Grandmaster?”

  “Introductions will have to wait. We all have travelled a long way and are in need of rest and hot meals before anything else.”

  “Uh… Yes, Grandmaster.”

  Cyrus whistled to the handful of Blades facing us, and quickly gestured and ordered them to various tasks and duties. They initially shied away from myself and Viconia, more for the fact that as Viconia slid out of her saddle without her usual grace and agility. The rapid and breathless stream of curses in Drow was enough of the hardened bodyguards of the Emperor to hesitate in rendering her any form of assistance as she staggered bow legged from her horse. Complaining of chafing and cursing every man, mer, daedra, plant and creature in existence in an increasingly lengthy list that never seemed to repeat itself she refused all attempts of help, forcing her back straight and legs back into a normal position with little hint at the pain that we all were feeling.

  I too more fell out of the saddle than clambered down gracefully, more sore than what I had been in years since my initial Legion training and feeling like a group of orcs had taken great pleasure in beating me with clubs all over my body. Everything everywhere hurt and I felt like I could sleep for an entire week as I forced myself to ignore the fact that the chafing and rubbing had split the skin in places that would prove difficult to heal or not aggravate further.

  The gates behind us closed with groans of cold wood and steel, our panting horses led off to the small stable built on top of the walls while we as a group we lead away with what was obviously a guard of honour. Grunting, cursing and grimacing with pain and fatigue we all made our way inside the central hall built into the side of the mountain, feeling some relief from the howling winds of the Jeral’s by the sight of a roaring fire in a stone heath.

  Viconia and I were led into a bunkhouse that was more barracks than anything, while Jauffre and Martin were led in different directions to quarters obviously set aside for the Grandmaster of their order and whatever accommodation was present for the Emperor or other dignitaries. At that point Jauffre had spared a few words to us, telling us to rest and recuperate and that he would send for us when we were needed. Otherwise we found ourselves guests of one of the most secretive of martial orders in the Empire, a situation that both of us took advantage of fully by passing out into the first beds we were told were ours.

  Dawn had broken in the hours after we arrived but neither of us rose for what felt as though an age. Fully clothed and still dressed in our armour we had simply collapsed into heaps and allowed ourselves to be claimed by fatigue. It didn’t matter that the bedding was as Spartan as any self-respecting legion’s; at that point after half a day of riding further and faster than either of us had ever thought possible it was more luxurious than the most pampered Altmer noble’s divan.

  It was past mid-day by the time I awoke, feeling somewhat refreshed and entirely in need for a hot bath and some form of restoration magicka to assist with the fact that I hurt everywhere, even in places I didn’t know existed. Taking the advice from the few Blades that seemed to make the Fortress their home I made my way to the bathhouse dug into the stone of the mountain, where some form of heated spring bubbled up from the depths and provided a source of additional warmth, fresh drinking water and the perfect opportunity for heated pools for bathing. The fortress was almost older than the Empire and despite its martial nature it was lived in and comfortable, the signs of countless Blades having made this their home over the centuries right down to the fact that the tiles underfoot were worn completely smooth but hundreds of feet.

  Dressed in little more than a fresh set of robes provided by the Blades I felt more human and alive in months, skin blooming with heat and cleanliness after what appeared to be a lifetime of grime and travel was scrubbed off with rough towels. The fortress was extremely well built, styled in the unusual architecture of what I was soon told was ancient Akaviri by one of the several Blades that always seemed to be hovered nearby. I knew that we may be welcomed somewhat into their sanctum but there was no way we were going to be trusted right away, especially with what they saw to be the last surviving heir back under their protection.

  I wandered my way through the fortress, looking and studying everything I could with a strange sense of curiosity. It was built with defence in mind, from the source of incorruptible drinking water from the depths of the mountain to the narrow corridors that restricted the use of swords and other lengthy weapons. Even the two hundred metre cliff face that it had been built inside stopped all but the most desperate or determined of attackers from scaling the “weaker” side. There were storage rooms with ice and freezing enchantments built into the walls and floor containing months and months of supplies and food for a hundred or more soldiers. Other storerooms were filled to the brim with racks of equipment, weapons, armour, arrows and ballista bolts for the pair of siege engines built on the towers adjacent the gate. The walls were thick and rounded to assist in deflecting any form of ammunition thrown at it by the rare few trebuchets and catapults that could be brought close enough to hit them and even a quick glance over the gates revealed ancient but no less potent spells of warding and protection that gave the solid wood an immunity to whatever spells could be brought against it.

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  It was easy to see why Jauffre had chosen such a place to keep Martin safe. With the Blades defending the walls there would be few foes who would even contemplate a suicidal assault, and the sheer quantity of supplies and equipment stored away meant that Jauffre and the more senior blades had a higher chance of dying of old age than starvation in the case of a siege.

  The views were astonishing, allowing a perfectly clear view of the far away Imperial City, the sprawling hub of Bruma and the winding path leading through the Pale Pass to the North and the Skyrim border. The Jerals towered above us with their unscaleable peaks and white caps of snow, and the splashed colours of green and blue mixed in with the rocky grey-brown of the mountains and highlands until it appeared to be little more than an oil painting created by the hand of a master.

  The courtyard on the surface level echoed of softly spoken prayers and the sounds of metal on metal as several of the Blades sparred and practiced or taught the newer members of their order. They practiced with bows, swords, shields and were always fully dressed in their signature splint mail armour unless they were undertaking their other duties. Every man and woman in the walls was a fighter of incredible ability but all had responsibilities within the fortress as well. They would cook, clean, maintain the walls and equipment and even the toiling sound of a smithing hammer announced the presence of a blacksmith from a soot-stained smithy built down a set of stair in a lower level. It was a peaceful place to find myself in but the cold wind of the mountains ensured that initially I spent little time outside.

  Inside the main hall the temperature was more comfortable and unlike the rest of the fortress it was built for comfort. An enchanted fire blazed away permanently in the hearth on the opposite side to the double doors leading to the stairs and the gates. A handful of tables were arrayed either side, piled with clean plates and eating utensils where a handful of younger looking Blades cleaned up from the lunchtime meals. The smells of cooking meat wafted from the kitchen on the opposite side to the dormitories and bunkhouse, and I found myself realising it was the better part of a day since I had last eaten.

  With a plate of various leftovers, I made my way from the kitchen to the roaring hearth were a handful of senior Blades stood and sat around the figures of Jauffre and Martin. They were all in deep conversation and Martin looked a combination of terrified and utterly embarrassed at their attentions. Viconia was there as well, but clearly not taking part in the conversation despite obviously listening in.

  “I know you all expect me to be Emperor.” I caught Martin say as I walked over to them with a mouthful of roast chicken. “I’ll do my best, but this is all new to me.”

  He looked over the huddled group and I saw how the Blades around him were senior officers and commanders, highly experienced individuals and most likely the next highest ranks in their order besides Jauffre. “I’m not used to giving speeches, but I wanted you all to know that I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days.”

  “Our focus other than your continued safety and health,” Jauffre began, “is to track down these assassins or cultists or whatever they may be and find out the reason behind their attacks. Also we need to find why they went to so much effort to get the Amulet of Kings.”

  He turned and looked at one of the powerful looking Blades sitting astride a stool that seemed to struggle with his bulk. “Captain?”

  The Blade, obviously the commander of the fortress scratched at his scalp with an armoured finger. “We have enough supplies for 10-15 years and I have sent out recall notices for most members scattered throughout Cyrodiil. Over the next month our strength should increase to just over a hundred members.”

  “Excellent.” Jauffre turned to another Blade standing near the roaring fire. “Belisarius?”

  “Sir?” The darker skinned Imperial leant with his arms folded across his chest and returned his commander’s gaze, the growl of his Colovian accent turning the word into a snarling ‘Sahr?’

  “What is the progress of the investigations into the murders?”

  “Sahr, several of my men had followed up on leads, done the usual questioning and a handful of interrogations but there hasn’t been anything substantial yet. There are always dozens of groups or individuals plotting some form of coup or to overthrow the throne but whoever these people are they have excellent methods of covering their tracks.”

  “So no leads at all?”

  “Not at this time but Baurus is currently in the Imperial City leading the primary investigation. He’s been tracking down the Emperor’s murderers and trying to work out how they knew about the escape route.”

  “They seem to know an awful amount about us Grandmaster.” The Blade who had greeted us in the morning spoke this time, tapping a finger to his lips thoughtfully. “I think we really need to consider the potential of a traitor in our ranks.”

  “The thought had crossed my mind, but they knew exactly where to find the Amulet of Kings despite only three individuals in all of Tamriel knowing that it was at the Priory.” There was an uncomfortable pause as they all suddenly turned and gazed and Viconia and I felt as though I should’ve come armed.

  “I can vouch for their trustworthiness,” Jauffre’s words snuffed any tension from the room like a cup over a lit candle. “And besides, I hardly expect that they went to all the effort of rescuing Martin and bringing him to us if they were working for the enemy.”

  He turned and motioned to Viconia and I to come closer to their group and nodded cryptically to one of the younger Blades standing off to the side of the hearth. “Speaking of which, I think it is about time that you two are properly rewarded for your actions.”

  The young blade returned, carrying a pair of wooden carrying cases beautifully wrought engravings and etched in silver, handing them to the Blades Grandmaster without ceremony.

  “We are not big on formalities and barely have any formal rites to speak of when inducting new members into our order.” He carefully stood up with both of the chests sitting on a low table near the fire. “However is it customary that each member receives a sword of their own to represent their service to the Empire.”

  With deft hands he unclasped the locks keeping the thin chests closed, motioning for us to step closer to him and the small group that was suddenly huddled around us. Inside each box, placed in their immaculate velvet interior and wrapped in silken cloth was a single sword of incredible craftsmanship.

  “While most Blades would receive a katana, I recognise the unusual situation that has found the two of you in our service. As such we have found weapons suitable for you.”

  The first he pulled out and reverently slid the protective layers of cloth aside to reveal a gleaming ebony sword that was of such ancient Akavir design that it looked to be more of a rapier than a more traditional katana. Its edge was sharp enough that it almost appeared to be able to cut a candle’s flame in half, and other than the swirled waves that travelled up the edge of the perfectly forged metal there was not a blemish to be seen. Sixty centimetres of beaten ebony had been folded over innumerable times to create a blade capable of cutting a soul in half, light enough to be wielded in one hand and strong enough that there could be little in the world of Mundus capable of damaging such a blade.

  “This is Dragonbane.” He explained, holding it out hilt first to Viconia who carefully grasped it by the hilt. “It’s one of the oldest and most ancient of our order from before we served the Emperors. Our legends state that this sword was used during the days where our order hunted the great Wyrms of the north and assisted in their eventual extinction. It is now yours to carry.”

  Viconia’s eyes were alight with pleasure as she felt the weight of the sword and held it as though it had been made specially for her. A savage pleasure filled her face with a warm glow that was almost sexual in nature, giving an almost imperceptible nod to Jauffre as she stepped back.

  “And you Kaius, we gift you with Sunchild.” He pulled the length of the second blade out of its case, revealing a gleaming hand-and-a-half sword with a curved blade and single edge. From the hilt to the tip it was beautifully fashioned, razor sharp and appearing almost freshly forged despite the fact that it was exceedingly old. Its ruby red hilt had enough space to be wielded with one or both hands and it was inarguably elven-made, formed from a silvery metal that I could not identify.

  “This blade is older than the Empire and is unbreakable as far as we can tell.” Jauffre and the others laughed among themselves for a moment as I held the sword aloft and studied its incredible quality. “So we’d appreciate it if you didn’t lose it.”

  “For a blade such as this I’ll come back from the dead.” I replied, making them chuckle again.

  “Good. You both can consider yourselves to be members of the Blades from this point onwards. While this means that you will be subject to our commands you will be what we consider “free agents”. You can come and go as you please and feel free to have Cloud Ruler as your home.”

  “I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”

  “Indeed.” Jauffre’s face became stern once more. “We are faced against a conspiracy of unbelievable scope and power and your actions and success thus far has proven more than just your loyalty to the Empire. I believe that we will all have need of you both in the coming weeks.”

  A ghost of a grin surfaced. “Rest up while you can, I have drafted up official pardons for you both meaning that you won’t have to worry about finding yourselves in jail again for your actions. It will take some time for them to get ratified by the Legion and the Bruma guard, so I wouldn’t go wandering around anywhere for the next few days at least until the paperwork is taken care of.”

  “So we simply have to wait until we’re no longer branded as criminals?” Viconia seemed to be in brighter spirits with a weapon that matched her cold beauty clasped by her side.

  “Indeed, make yourselves at home. I do believe that we’ll be able to find you something productive to do in the coming days.”