4E 202, Solitude, Temple of the Divines
Kiera Fendalyn
Honestly, she should have expected this.
Why wouldn't an incident happen on a joyous occasion such as a wedding?
The world truly had a way of sucking out all the happiness one thought they deserved. Kiera could already imagine the way the regular folk would start to think that this was some kind of divine intervention or something.
Kiera didn't know who was responsible this time, but the strange attendant that offered her and Elisif the drink was certainly part of it.
He called himself Cicero, though the name was unfamiliar to her. Even so, Kiera recognized the look of subtle madness behind the man's eyes.
He was still mumbling and murmuring to himself, though Kiera noticed the way his eyes swept the courtyard, noting the positions of numerous Legionnaires and Oculatus members.
Everything descended into chaos then.
The air screamed as portals tore open across the courtyard, atronachs of all kinds spilling out in a chorus as the legionnaires moved to engage them, shields locking as mages raised wards to defend against the elemental attacks.
Screams cut through the chaos as nobles scattered, silks and jewels abandoned in blind panic. The wedding music died mid-note, the musicians and bards running off in a bid to escape the chaos.
Kiera tried to keep her eyes on the strange Imperial, though he quickly disappeared in the midst of the crowd.
'Typical.' Kiera clicked her tongue.
"What is going on?!" Jarl Elisif cried, her composure cracking as she turned in a slow circle, taking in the destruction. "Is this—is this an attack?!"
"An assassination attempt most likely." Emperor Titus Mede II said calmly, though his eyes strayed to the still smoked balcony where Vittoria Vici was, a look of worry betraying his features, though he remained composed. "The question is, who was the target? There are many high-value lives present today."
"Emperor! We must evacuate, now!" Commander Maro barked, already moving. Penitus Oculatus agents closed ranks, forming a protective ring around the Emperor and Jarl Elisif.
Titus Mede inclined his head once. "I leave matters here in your hands, Kiera."
She gave a sharp nod. "I've got it."
Turning, she raised her voice, cutting through the din. "Rikke, handle the evacuation! I'll take care of the assassins!"
Legate Rikke acknowledged immediately, already shouting orders as Legion formations shifted.
Kiera didn't wait another second.
With a single powerful leap, she cleared the courtyard and landed atop the stone railing of the upper balcony. Smoke rolled thick and acrid, her vision restricted to barely a few feet away.
"LAAS YAH NIR."
The words left her lips in a mere whisper, and the world peeled open.
Life flared into view, auras blooming in different colors. Regular mortals turned to shades of red, while the numerous Atronachs down in the courtyards were different grays.
Through the smoke, beyond the balcony doors, she saw a pair of red lifeforms clutching one another, prone and on the ground.
Above them stood another, more powerful aura. One hand held aloft as magicka coiled tightly around it.
"WULD NAH KEST!"
She exploded forward, the distance shortening within an instant as Dawnbreaker sang free of its sheath. The blade flashed once and a hand hit the carpeted floor, fingers still twitching.
A shrill scream followed as the attacker reeled back; a tall Dunmer woman clad in black and red, the unmistakable robes of the Dark Brotherhood fluttering as she staggered.
'Of course it's them,' Kiera thought with a growl.
"You—! You weren't supposed to be—"
Kiera didn't let her utter another word as she swiftly decapitated the woman, her head thudding to the ground with a wet plop.
"D-Dragonborn!"
Kiera turned to see Asgeir Snow-Shod—the groom to be—kneeling beside Vittoria Vici, who lay unconscious against the floor, her skin pale and damp with sweat.
"The assassin, she cut her," he choked. "Please..! Please help her!"
Kiera kneeled down, hands glowing softly as she examined the wound. A quick Apprentice level Restoration spell scanned Vittoria's body head to toe for the injuries, which told her of the shallow cut on her right arm, along with the poison that was racing through Vittoria's veins.
"A fast-acting toxin," Kiera muttered. "One meant for a quick death."
She rose immediately, rifling through the assassin's corpse until her fingers closed around a small vial. The Antidote. Her training with the Vigilants told her that all assassins would carry at least one with them for precautionary measures. She thrust it into Asgeir's hands.
"Give it to her. Now."
He did so immediately, color returning to Vittoria's complexion.
"Oh, thank the Divines." Asgeir said with relief.
As the poison was neutralized, Kiera's awareness sharpened.
Something else was coming.
The Aura Whisper was still active, and one presence burned brighter than the rest.
A powerful red pulse streaked with dark yellow was rushing towards her. She discovered what that dark yellow meant a second later as a werewolf lunged from the smoke, jaws wide.
Kiera dropped low, the creature sailing over her as it snarled and twisted midair, Asgeir letting out a surprised shout.
She pointed to a room in the hallway that she knew was empty. "Get in the room and lock the door. Don't open it under any circumstances."
"Understood!" Asgeir obeyed instantly, lifting Vittoria into his arms and rushing towards the side chamber.
The werewolf growled and tried to lunge for Vittoria, making Kiera know who their target was. She didn't let him get close as she surged forward and slammed her shoulder into its chest, sending it skidding across the stone with a furious howl.
The sound of a click told her that the bride and the groom were secure. Which means she could fight without worrying about hostages.
It was just in time too since another presence decided to reveal themselves, an Argonian warrior with a glass longsword brandished in his hands.
Behind her, the werewolf rose to all fours, hackles raised, a low growl rumbling from its throat.
Kiera exhaled slowly.
Her skin took a blackish tint as she activated Ebonyflesh with nary a thought, Dawnbreaker brandished in hand.
She was trapped in the narrow hallway with enemies on both sides, with smoke still lingering that messed with her visibility.
Yet she smiled all the same.
"Shall we?"
…
4E 202, Solitude
Legate Rikke
Rikke cleaved downward with a grunt, her sword biting deep into the core of the Fire Atronach. The creature split apart with a shriek.
She raised her shield just in time as the explosion came a heartbeat later.
Heat washed over her as fire and embers burst outward, ash and soot pelting her armor like hail. The impact rattled her bones, but she held firm as the force dissipated.
When the smoke cleared, she straightened and peered through the narrow slit of her helmet.
The courtyard beyond the Temple of the Divines was chaos, but a controlled one. Legion formations held where they could, shields interlocked, with mages calling out warning as spells flew from their fingers.
Burning debris scarred the marble ground, and shattered pews lay scattered where the fighting had spilled outward.
The Legionnaires she had assigned to civilian escort had done their duty well. Most nobles and commoners were gone, spirited away through side streets and fortified corridors. Only soldiers remained now, along with a handful of stragglers being hurried toward safety.
Relief loosened something tight in her chest, though the sight of the few casualties who were too late to be saved strengthened it back.
Her eyes swept instinctively toward the exits.
Both Jarl Elisif and Emperor Titus Mede II were gone, which was good.
The Penitus Oculatus would have taken them straight to Castle Dour. Between the Haafingar garrison and Sybille Sentor's watchful presence, there was no safer place in Solitude. Whatever people whispered about the vampire court wizard, Rikke trusted her more than most when it came to the Jarl's safety.
Bells had been tolling since the first portal opened, echoing throughout the city. Reinforcements would be coming, and soon. By Talos, there was an entire Legion force camped at the Solitude docks, meant to sail for Castle Volkihar in two days' time.
They would hear the bells.
Until then, it was on her and the twenty Legionnaires still holding the courtyard to contain the situation, to make sure no Atronachs spilled into the city proper.
But of course, that task was proving to be a lot more difficult than it seemed.
It wasn't just fire and frost atronachs that they had to contend with, but also the more powerful Storm Stronachs—vast, crackling things that bent the air around themselves. One raised its arm, and the wind answered.
A sudden gale tore through the plaza.
Chairs, tables, and broken stone lifted violently into the air and hurled themselves toward a fleeing group of civilians. Rikke's breath caught as one man stumbled, knocked off his feet by the flying debris.
It didn't escape her notice that these atronachs deliberately aimed for the civilians and not the legionnaires. It was as if they were ordered to kill as many as they could and sow chaos.
"They're targeting civilians!" she barked, already moving. "Shields up and intercept!"
Rikke sprinted toward the Storm Atronach responsible. Of all summoned creatures, Storm Atronachs unsettled her the most. They were the least humanoid of the three, more like ruined statues dragged into motion by spiteful gods.
This one towered over her at eight feet tall, its cracked, frowning face set into a torso of fractured stone. Chunks of rock orbited its body, held together by snapping arcs of lightning and coils of dark violet cloud.
As she closed the distance, electricity crawled across her armor.
Every hair on her body stood on end. Her skin prickled painfully beneath the steel.
She gritted her teeth and pushed through it.
The atronach swung a massive arm. Rikke ducked beneath the slow, crushing fist just as a bolt of lightning discharged from it, slamming into the temple wall behind her. Stone exploded outward.
She struck back.
Her ebony sword carved a deep gouge across its torso, stone splitting under the enchanted edge given to all Legates of the Legions. She followed through, driving the blade forward—straight into the crackling core that held it together.
For a fraction of a second, the atronach froze.
Then it detonated.
Lightning erupted outward in a violent shockwave. Rikke barely had time to react before it struck her full on, hurling her across the courtyard like a rag doll.
She hit the stone hard, the breath knocked clean from her lungs.
Pain blossomed across her ribs and shoulders as she rolled to a stop. For a long moment, she lay there, staring at the sky through the haze of smoke and ringing ears.
'Thank all the gods for Gerron Ironbreaker.'
The new set of armors that he gifted the Legion was probably the only reason she was alive.
She groaned as she pushed herself up, armor scraping loudly. No doubt half her body would be bruised after that, perhaps her ribs even cracked. But she was alive, which was more than could be said for the other three legionnaires caught in the same explosion.
Rikke took a breath and forced herself to her feet, scanning the battlefield again.
Kiera had gone inside to secure Vittoria Vici and her husband. If anyone could handle a situation as perilous as an assassination attempt in close quarters, it was the Dragonborn. Rikke had seen her clash with Alduin himself. Worrying over her would be pointless.
No, the real problem was the Atronachs, whose number kept being refilled through portals that periodically opened all across the courtyard.
Rikke frowned. She knew how Conjuration magic worked. Whoever was responsible was quite the proficient mage for being able to conjure so many of them at once.
But no matter how strong, a mage could not simply open portals whenever they wished. There were rules to magic, one of them being that a Conjuration mage required proper line of sight to open a portal to the realm of Oblivion.
'Which means…' Her gaze snapped upward. 'There!'
Atop one of the temple's towers, partially obscured by smoke and distance, she spotted movement. A lone figure, cloaked and stationary, hands raised in methodical rhythm.
"Adventus!" she shouted, turning sharply. The other legate had just brought down a Frost Atronach alongside two Legionnaires. "Handle things here!"
Adventus glanced up, following her line of sight, then nodded sharply. "Got it! Go!"
Rikke didn't hesitate.
She bolted for the temple entrance and plunged inside, boots echoing against stone as she took the stairs two at a time. The interior was dimmer, statues of the Eight Divines—eight, not nine, her jaw clenched at that—were set up periodically in equal intervals.
She climbed—second floor, third, fourth—muscles burning as the sounds of battle echoed faintly from below.
By the fifth floor, she heard more sounds of combat ringing in the distance.
She rounded a corner and saw Kiera.
The Dragonborn stood in the narrow hall, Dawnbreaker locked against an Argonian warrior's longsword. Behind her, a werewolf lunged, claws flashing.
Rikke barely had time to register the danger before Kiera moved.
In one fluid motion, Kiera kicked the Argonian square in the chest, sending him crashing backward. She spun immediately, backfisting the werewolf with her gauntlet hard enough to stagger it mid-leap.
Before the Argonian could recover, Kiera thrust out a hand.
Paralysis seized him instantly, dropping him rigidly to the floor.
Kiera turned, eyes meeting Rikke's through the smoke.
"I'm heading up the tower," she said simply.
Kiera nodded and turned to engage the recovering werewolf.
She continued upward, leaving the Dragonborn to her work.
At the top floor, she reached the chamber housing the trapdoor to the tower balcony. She grabbed the iron ring and hauled it open, only for the world to explode as a fire rune detonated by the trap door.
The blast hurled her backward, slamming her into the stone floor. Her vision blurred, ears ringing violently as pain flared across her arms and chest.
"What?!" a voice exclaimed above her, sharp and irritated. "How did you discover me?!"
Rikke forced her body to roll just as a fireball roared down through the opening, scorching the stone where she had been a moment before. She brought her shield up instinctively as the blast struck, the force throwing her back again.
Through the smoke, a figure descended lightly.
An elderly Imperial man, his hair thin and gray. He wore dark red and black robes, the unmistakable sigil of the Dark Brotherhood emblazoned on his chest.
"If you're here," the man sneered, "then the others have failed." He clicked his tongue. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted Arnbjorn to handle things."
Rikke ignored the pain in her body as she rose into a shaky, guarded stance, sword raised.
"Your assassins are dead," she growled. "And so will you."
The man scowled. "
Before either could move, the sounds outside shifted.
There was a clattering of steel as heavy boots thundered in unison. A man gave out loud and sharp orders.
A horn sounded, long and clear.
Rikke knew what that meant. Reinforcements have arrived.
She smiled grimly behind her helm.
The mage cursed under his breath.
Then, with a flash of distortion, he vanished.
Rikke stepped back till her back hit the wall. She held her ground, listening carefully.
Ten seconds passed. Fifteen.
Nothing.
She exhaled slowly.
"Damn," she muttered. The mage escaped.
…
AN: The Dark Brotherhood isn't really a threat to Kiera at this point. They are assassins first, warriors second. The moment Cicero failed to poison Kiera was the moment that their plan failed.
I also really love giving Rikke her moments to shine. She's the prime example of a Nord battle maiden who isn't afraid to throw hands with anyone despite being just a regular person.
Also, Festus Krex is a g. The guy is a really powerful mage. I was quite surprised to learn that he was a teacher in the College of Winterhold for a time when I read his wiki.
Anyways, more chapters in my P-word and all that jazz. We're 10 chapters ahead at 103 there.