From Traversing Tamriel
The rest in the former Stormcloak’s quarters was a brief one. When I woke the Imperial soldiers were still busy removing the corpses of the fort’s former owners and preparing their own for burial. I spoke briefly with the Imperial Captain, he had sent for reinforcements from the Dawnstar Imperial camp and did not feel that I was needed any longer.
That was welcome news, for I had a long walk back to Solitude before I could report news of the successful attempt on the fort.
Fortunately the walk was uneventful and I chose to save time by traversing the bay underneath the plateau of the Blue Palace. There’s nearly always a boatman willing to accept a few Septims to ferry a passenger.
On our way over I asked the man I met on the Morthal shore about a new ship that was docked on the sea-side of the Blue Palace. The man, old and of few words, simply shrugged. This was obviously a challenge I was loathe to pass by.
The ship was quiet as I walked up to the shore plank leading on to the ship, but as I approached an arrow whistled past my head and men jumped up from hiding behind crates on the deck to jeer and threaten me.
I could have retreated back down the plank, risking an arrow in the back, but something about the men made me pause. Each one of them were poorly armored and somewhat better armed, not a common practice amongst the seamen who ply the coasts, pirate-infested though they might be. The arms and armor, even poorly-made, are beyond the reach of the average sailor.
In the space of that moment I also noticed the hurriedly-washed blood staining the deck. With a snarl I leaped on to the ship and drew my axe, hacking the head off the man nearest to me. Startled, the remaining men on the deck paused for a second before drawing large scimitars and charging at me as one howling mob.
Uncoordinated they fell quickly. I expected the rest of them to come charging on to the deck from below, but I heard only silence beyond the door. Whatever notice our little conflict provided was not enough to arouse the suspicion of anyone below. Perhaps they thought it merely the regular scrapping of the folks they stuck on the cold, windy deck or were too drunk to pay much attention.
I found ample examples of the latter on the decks below. One Orsimer was singing so loudly that I could have shot him with my eyes closed. Rather than do that I used an Illusion spell to further irritate his neighbors, causing them to rise against him. To his credit the drunk Orsimer killed one of his former comrades before falling.
This was repeated again on the deck below, more drunks, more fighting, all feeling increasingly pointless. At the end of my little adventure was a sober Orsimer who had only his sobriety and well-laid table to distinguish him from his fellows.
I left the ship with its dead on the shore. The city guards might investigate it at some point or maybe the mercenaries hired by the East Empire Trading Company to guard their ships and wharves. It matters not to me. My curiosity brought me no real danger, but resulted, by their own actions, in the deaths of a dozen.
The afternoon remained much as the morning had: grey, cold, and dismal. I found the General at his usual spot at Castle Dour’s strategy table, conversing with an Imperial I had not met before. The General dismissed the man after my name was announced by the door guard and General Tullius sat down with a sigh, the strategy session apparently over.
He was pleased, of course, to hear of the Legion’s success in the Pale. The garrisoning of Fort Dunstad netted the Legion a second port on the north coast and placed them closer to Windhelm. He stated that battles are won by disciplined soldiers, but wars by exceptional individuals, of which I gather I may be in his eyes.
He declared that I was to be promoted to Praefect immediately and gifted me with an Orsimer one-handed blade…which I have no use for, just like the promotion itself. Normally a soldier gets promoted to Praefect and given a small command, but I am receiving the title minus a command, making it honorary at best. No large matter, I guess, for what Legionnaire would follow a Khajiit anyway?
My next orders were just as the ones I had completed, this time in the Rift rather than the Pale. It appears the Legion wishes to execute a two-front attack against Windhelm, which is certainly sensible, but I wonder at the possibility of a Dragon interrupting either of the two forces.
So it is off to the Imperials’ south-eastern camp tomorrow to see what exceptional tasks I can complete for a civil war that seems more civil than war.