The loud wall of noise that was the Valenwood retreated before shifting armor plates and marching boots, a cohort of legionaries clearing the foliage around them with miserable looks on their faces.
Said expressions evaporated as they felt the humidity of the air give way to the blessed dryness of their encampment, many of the newer recruits very nearly breaking formation in their rush to escape the wet confines of their armor.
Even the wood elf looked relieved.
A guard from atop one of the many towers surrounding the legionary base camp blew into a small signal horn, and the spiked wooden gates split open, welcoming the patrol back and allowing them to bypass the murderous combination of stakes, trenches, and palisades in peace.
The quartermaster waiting just beyond the gate ignored the soldiers' groans as they removed their helmets, and without looking up from his scroll asked "Everything in order, Legate?"
"Nothing to report" The gruff orc answered as he wiped the sweat from his brow "Everything is quiet."
"Most the other fronts report the same" The Quartermaster muttered, scratching his chin. He finished his reading, looked up and shrugged "Well, as long as you are certain, I won't demand the written report immediately. Just get it done by the evening."
"Much obliged, Marcus" The orc nodded.
The man waved him off "Anytime, Zarok."
Unlike when the campaign first started, the return of an armed patrol caused no excitement among the ranks, the sea of tents split by redundant fortifications barely so much as shifted as only a few off duty soldiers greeted the passing legionaries.
It seemed that the sole eyes that followed them for more than a blink were those tasked with such redundancies.
They soon found themselves on a small field covered in wide tree stumps of differing sizes surrounded by supply tents, a number of roaring flames in its center sporting large cook pots above them as a small troop of cooks and even a chef or two struggled to feed this part of the expeditionary force.
The reaction to their arrival was far more lively this time, as many of the soldiers present within the 'mess hall' rose their mugs at them, a few of them even cheering their return.
Zarok gave his men the permission to disperse and took a seat in a somewhat secluded corner, allowing himself a tired exhale now that he was out of view before methodically removing his armor plates.
But the world was cruel to the orc, and once more denied him his peace as a group of his Quaestors accompanied by the recently promoted Bosmer Decanus made their way to him, mugs of ale and bowls of hearty stew in their arms.
All of them still sported the looks of wet cat, thankfully made bearable by the roaring flames surrounding them.
"Brooding again, sir?" A Nord longbeard greeted him as he set down a meal for them both "What's got yer loins in a twist this time?"
Zarok merely grunted and glared at the man.
He still took the stew offered though.
"Isn't it obvious Hilderbrand?" The Breton next to him chuckled "He must be mooning over his new elven beau. No subtlety in that girl."
The spoon in Zarok's hand bent, even as he kept eating.
The third man, another Nord shook his head "Look what you went and did, Percy. Leave the poor man alone."
Shrugging, the Breton took a sip of his ale "Don't give me that look, Gunnar. We are all curious."
A light crack rang out as the spoon snapped.
"Boys" The wood elf finished chewing his salad "Methinks that we should change topics before we become the meal."
The three humans all looked to the elf, and then ever so slowly to Zarok, who was by now eating with half a spoon and glaring daggers at them.
"Probably smart." Percival nodded rapidly.
Gunnar rose his mug "Hear, hear."
Hilderbrand just pretended to fasten his belt.
"Right" Tagan the wood elf deadpanned "Any word from the other cohorts?"
"Mostly routine" Gunnar waved his hand "Though I hear the 16th had one of theirs get yanked, one of the wild hunt beasties got him while he was trying to take a piss." He chuckled darkly "The whole lot were clutching their pearls when they returned to camp."
A moment of silence was given to the poor man.
"Wasn't there a strict rule against breaking formation like that?" Percival blinked.
Gunnar grinned "Madman did it on a dare."
"The balls on that lad." Hilderbrand chuffed and spat on the ground "Still, what a shit way to die, damn recruits."
"Wouldn't say he has any kind of balls anymore" Tagan pointed out darkly.
The younger Nord and Breton shivered, while the older man snorted.
Hilderbrand wiped his beard with a sleeve of his padded tunic, and faced Zarok again "Serious now, what has you going all quiet on us? Most of the lads didn't notice it on patrol but you've got that air around you again."
The orc was silent for a while longer, taking a slow gulp of ale before lowering it with a thump "No one hears of this from you." He ordered seriously and his officers all immediately looked around to check if anyone was listening.
Thus satisfied, he spoke "It is happening tomorrow."
All four legionaries turned dead serious.
Hilderbrand was the first to break the silence "Command finally decided to get off their asses, eh?"
"Don't let them hear you say that" Gunnar actually checked their surroundings again as he warned "But yeah, I was totally getting tired of sitting on my ass."
The Breton was less enthusiastic "Personally, I find the idea of delaying our assault on a heavily fortified 'city' made of moving trees and hate to be more than fine."
"Well you are going to be less than fine soon enough" Zarok allowed himself a cruel grin as he leaned in "Because we are in the vanguard again."
His announcement was immediately followed by a long string of curses, and a lot more ale being brought to his table a mere minute later.
"Think of it this way" Tagan spoke up as Percival once more complained about their unit being cursed "Just imagine how fucked the poor morons serving the Dominion are."
Their fatalism evaporated as if were never there, now substituted with cruel commiseration for their foe.
-------
Opposite the sprawling death trap that was the legionary encampment, atop the sprawling death trap that was the capital of Valenwood itself, stood a sextet of elves, four of whom were clad in elaborate enchanted garb that denoted their stature in Altmer society.
Their leader, a tall and slim Altmer wearing golden robes that belonged in the second era, stared down at a pair of bowing Mer in armor "I see" His voice cut through the air like a whip "To think our proud legions would be led by someone as pathetic as you."
General Elandon was nearly prevented from speaking by the sheer presence of the elf but just barely managed out a "But my lord-"
A hand lazily raised stopped him "I do quite understand that the enemy leader is a beast you could not so much as look upon, much less touch, but your failure to contain his legions and slow them beyond the most minor of delays shows me that your command was a waste."
The Alinori Elder expected begging and pleading, but was surprised as the young elf stood his ground and dared to look him straight in the eyes "Forgive me my impertinence, my lord." He bowed stiffly "But you have not yet had time to observe all the tools available to the enemy."
Feeling a bit curious, the ancient elf ever so slightly rose his eyebrow, waving for the young one to continue.
And so he did, describing everything from the suddenly sprouting roads, to the fortifications covering every single day of march from Arenthia to Silvenar, to the caravans of automatons equipped with enough combat models to stop any kind of raid that was not an outright strategic advance.
And the ash that followed the legion everywhere.
"And that is not all of it." The sole wood elf present spoke up as the Altmer finished with his report "My Spinners* have been petitioning the Pact to slow the enemy ever since they first stepped foot into Valenwood." The King of the Bosmer scoffed "It did not even slow them down."
"That would explain it" An aged voice cut him off as a short Altmer woman, eyes completely white and back bent enough that she required a cane to walk, waddled up to them "A curse lay upon the enemy camp, one whose like I have not felt in my lifetime."
Those words made even her fellow magi tense.
"They would curse themselves just to spite us?" The Bosmer ruler asked, his bafflement clear.
The old woman faced him, her blind stare far more piercing than any mortal gaze he had ever felt, but only for a moment as the feeling retracted and the ancient crone gave him a patient smile "Not if the enemy has absolute control over what it affects."
"My lady, that is ridiculous" The lead mage blanched "That level of control over a curse is known to be impossible, you can't mean-"
"I can and I do" She tapped her cane against the great wooden terrace they were on "The curse is but the extension of the individual, his touch reaches all and it makes Jephre itself recoil." She rose her hand as if to grasp something invisible "It feels almost like-"
Suddenly, the diminutive crone flinched away, a pained grunt in her throat as a much more youthful woman rushed to hold her up, the telltale glow of restoration swiftly removing the ailment threatening to overtake her.
"Thank you, dear child" The crone slowly patted the she-elf's hand and waved the rest off "Don't give me those looks, I am perfectly fine." She directed a more reserved look at the legionary camp "I just poked the beast a bit too much."
All three Elders felt a shiver going down their spine as the most powerful of their number just admitted to being countered in her specialty.
She was not bothered by this however, and turned to face the two mortals "Off you go the two of you, you have preparations to make and I don't think the boy's little rant will be as effective after that little display."
The supposed leader of the magi gave her an outwardly offended look that hid his fond exasperation, and allowed the two lesser elves to shuffle out without complaint.
Still, he was unable to contain his curiosity "What did you see, truly?"
"Whatever we are about to battle" The old woman's good cheer did not lessen for even a moment "Is far beyond a mere Dunmer."
"So we are moving to plan B then?" The sole armored mage, an unusually wide Altmer, interjected "It feels cowardly but going by the rumors anything else is suicide."
"Aren't you a bright young man" The blind woman patted his arm... from five meters away.
"This changes nothing" Their nominal leader spoke up again "We must find a way to either slay or contain Dagoth, or the sacrifices we made in Elsweyr and the invasion of Cyrodiil will have both been a waste."
The sad look the old woman directed him with as he mentioned the invasion went unseen.
"Indeed" The youthful healer agreed, voice as melodious as it was emotionless "Corralling the demigod will be far easier when it is unbalanced by the fall of Dagoth."
"Our apprentices will have to deal with the Telvanni and whatever mages the humans were able to produce on their own then" The armored elf crossed his arms "Here is to hoping our troops aren't incompetent enough to let them get overwhelmed by their infantry."
"Make sure to drill it into their foolish heads to not underestimate the Dunmer" The old woman kept tapping her cane "The dark elves have been truly united for the first time since the death of the Dwemer, and I assure you, facing them is not pretty."
"Agreed" The lead mage nodded, folding his hands behind his back as he turned to look down upon the legion camp in the distance "No matter what, we must ensure that victory is ours." His face twisted into a hateful frown "Lest human jealousy sees us subjected to yet another Numidium."
Thus agreed they began to plan and scheme, unaware of the saddened look hiding behind the old woman's blindness, nor the sudden twitch of her fingers as she felt something nearby unsummon itself.
-------
(Reyvin's POV)
'Thank the gods she isn't getting broken up about it.' I half-prayed as I finished my conversation with Minthara nad unsummoned my Orb™, my light smile twitching as I felt a cramp in my 'muscles'.
Tsking, I began waving the arm around and complained loudly "I did not think any part of me was still capable of aching like this."
"What did you expect" Nerevar, who was no doubt laughing his ass off behind his helm, spoke up "You cast around a dozen burden and silence spells on yourself just for the sake of training. Most people would have broken down under the sheer pressure of it."
"Well I am not most people" I grumbled "And my slow progress has been annoying me for a while now. Not like I can study spells that would be useful on the frontline."
"Well you could" Savos drawls "If you weren't holding the whole damned thing together by yourself."
"Why thank you, gramps" I drawled back "How nice it is to finally be appreciated."
The asshole just smirked at me.
"You know, Hural's idea isn't a terrible one" Nerevar brought the conversation back on track "You do need to turn your brain off if you want to advance beyond your current level. Your tendency to overanalyze, however useful, is preventing you from truly internalizing your style with your instincts."
"That is much easier said than done" I huffed as I lit a cigar, absently tossing another to Savos "Overthinking things is second nature to me by now."
"And you are used to getting results every time you invest the effort" He points out, leaving me to shrug as I had no true counter argument "Which means it may just not be a question of effort."
"Everything is a question of effort" I fire back lightly "The only variable is the form of it."
"If that is how you wish to frame it" Nerevar shrugged "Effort or not, what you must do is seek a true challenge of your skills, one that relies solely on your technique and training." He tilted his helm "Or you can just stay as you are, you are more than powerful enough."
I narrowed my eyes at him "That sounds like a challenge."
"It really isn't" He sighs.
"Uh huh" I narrow my eyes further and point at him as if to say 'I am watching you.'
Our conversation trails off as we content ourselves with looking upon the distant walls of Valenwood's capital, the twisting walls made up of interconnected trees and tall tower-treehouses looked like a nightmare to attack.
My Sight even gave me flashes of just how nightmarish in fact.
And that was without mentioning whatever surprise the Dominion had in store for us.
'We've certainly given them enough time for it.' I grumbled internally 'Then again the fact they evacuated the vast majority of the city is a good thing.'
Moving around so many refugees without them getting decimated by starvation and lack of medicine, especially in the hell that was Valenwood, was probably a logistical nightmare, and it would inevitably drain the morale of the Bosmer.
'And, it lets you do more war crimes!' Scorch chirps evily.
My eyes darken 'Methinks I've done enough of those.'
An eerie caw echoed in my mind 'you have not done nearly enough...'
Ignoring the bird of doom, I felt a light twitch coming from my connection to Mephala, one far closer to the merchant Xelzaz than the Daedra itself, and smiled as I realized it was finally time.
My fingers twisted as I created a magic circle on the spot and a series of purple runes flashed into existence, ripping open a tiny rift into Oblivion for but a moment.
And out of said rift stepped a distantly familiar figure, clad in the familiar light armor of those in my service as agents yet looking distinctly different than the last time I've seen him. For instead of a Dunmer, there now stood a Dremora of Mephala.
The demon offered a deep bow, and spoke in that same familiar tone I had come to expect "My lord."
"What rumors did you overhear this time?" I asked giddily "Jackal."
-------
*Spinners are priests of Y'ffre
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Might I trouble you for a stone in these harsh times?
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