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... The story of a Forgotten Hero who changed the very course of history." (Kellen)

***

*Somewhere south of Cyrodiil - 25 years ago*

It was dark and damp in the cold cage. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he saw the light of day after the night where his caravan of refugees was raided by Aldmeri soldiers after the fall of the Imperial City. A few survived the raid but most didn’t survive what came after.

Until now, he was forced to fight for his life against all kinds of shitty opponents starting from wild dogs all the way to wolves and bears but what really got to him was when the Aldmeri Soldiers abandoned the garrison leaving him rotting in a cell yet not a day after, another group moved in.

Daedric Cultists!

As if the world didn’t have enough of man-hating elves, now he has to deal with the everyone-hating cultists.

These cultists were cruel and the vicious circle that is the arena of the garrison continued once again this time against Scamps, Skeletons and all manner of nasty creatures. He was even forced to fight innocents and slay them surviving barely by the width of a blade’s tip, yet the day he is the victim was on and about.

"Bring me a warrior with strength and courage. That Nord looks adequate, bring the mortal forth." Called the leader of the Daedric Cult, the Dremora Lord known as Reive.

He scanned with his vicious eyes through the fighter slaves in the cages picking out a strong Nord with a mighty build then he looked again to pick an opponent.

"As for his opponent... That one!"

Reive was pointing towards him who is the longest surviving fighter slave so far. It was clear as day that they are bored with him and want the large Nord to crush him in one go. After all, an Imperial like him didn’t possess anything but luck when comes to fight... which clearly had run out.

He was dragged out of his cage and thrown in the pit against the Nord.

’What a large man!’ He thought.

Fighting this Nord needs a lot more than luck. Speed, accuracy, and focus are needed all at once.

The Nord, on the other hand, looked carefree despite being another fighter slave. This is also good, it is a sign of underestimation. If this goes well...

*Swoosh*

And it clearly didn’t. The Nord sent him a straight jab launching him two meters backward before the permission to fight was given.

The Cultists laughed and the Daedra Reive didn’t mind it. It was all for the good anyway.

"Sorry, mate. Better your blood than mine." The Nord spoke.

He stumbled up while staggering backward, once he hit the wall of the pit, he found an old battleaxe left in the mud from the previous fight. Seems like the Cultists didn’t notice it.

The Nord walked closer so it was the chance. He fingered pain and acted like he was protecting himself by shrinking down yet once the Nord was in range, he held to the axe and swung it trying to take the Nord’s head.

"Woah!" The Nord evaded with superhuman flexibility and stepped away.

"Nice swing." The Nord was okay about it and took extra steps away then looked for the cultists to throw him a weapon.

He got a sword and the two returned to the fight again on equal terms but the Nord seemed reluctant while fighting. He didn’t show the best of his moves and kept attacking half-heartedly.

As the fight lasted over a minute, the cultists got bored and started booing. Some went for a drink and even the Dremora himself went somewhere.

"You’re pretty good with that axe. We work together, we might have a chance." At that time, the Nord engaged in a closer clash with him and spoke in a careful tone.

"You want me to drop my guard? Never!" But he wouldn’t for he went into many similar situations during the past... well, who knows how much time has passed.

The Nord smiled.

"Suit yourself, but believe me when I tell you... there is a chance." At the moment, the Nord spoke calmly but in the next, he unleashed a scary pressure by some sort of power.

"Aura!"

It was not a common power among the foot soldiers and the commoners but it is an art that set two levels apart. Sure enough, he recognized it.

Facing an Aura Master of all things, today really was not his lucky day but... luck was playing a different game here. The Nord never meant to attack him but rather threw his swords over the pit shattering a part of the inner wall to the underground prison locking the way up.

"Haha! I’m Tyr. One of the Blades." The Nord said.

"B... A Blade!" The man was taken aback.

A Blade... in this kind of place? Rumor has it that the Aldmeri Dominion slew them all. But then again, the Blades are elites devoted to protecting the Emperor. Let alone the Aura, each one of them is above any common Knight or Imperial Legionnaire.

At that moment of confusion, the Daedric Cultists around the pit were reacting to Tyr’s action. They reached out to their Weapons and Staves facing Tyr and...

"What was your name again?" Tyr asked.

"I’m Glemet."

"Fine, Glem. Now it’s two of us, a dozen of them... it’s almost a fair fight."

Tyr joked but Glemet was more concerned about the situation he’s in.

Without saying much, the Cultists attacked.

"You’ll never escape. Reive will destroy you!" One came charging at Glemet waving a sword so he had to avoid and counter-attack.

Glemet could see the attack and a strange thing happened to him... he felt like he can face that Cultist despite the difference in strength. He evaded once and twice but as he was about to be hit, his mind opened to many possibilities as if he could see more than one just way to handle this.

He chose the smartest one and that was by evading down then attacking then doing a leg sweep to break the cultist’s balance and with that, his opponent was on the ground. The feeling of victory almost got to him but his sense of crisis encouraged him to chop that cultist’s neck while he is down.

"You’re done? Let’s leave."

As Glemet got rid of his opponent, Tyr called for him. Looking back... almost ten cultists were very dead. Broken necks, bashed skulls, crushed ribs. Tyr seemed to be one hell of an opponent.

"How will we escape?" Glemet asked.

"Through a tunnel system under this fort." Tyr replied looking around, "But first, we need distractions."

Tyr ran far from the pit and arrived at the chamber where the fighters’ slaves were kept in cages. He crushed the lock of each cage bare-handed and opened each cage.

"Get out!" He called.

Scared, the other fighter slaves were at a loss of what to do. It seemed like they were being invited to their death but the man, who was supposedly someone like them, seemed way too superior in power.

"GET OUT!" Tyr shouted and caused the people in cages to shiver like skeevers and run out of their cages.

"You’re saving them, I’m sure they will thank you..."

"I’m not saving them."

As Glemet was about to thank Tyr on their behalf, Tyr cut his words.

"Listen, I am a blade agent and I am alone here. My partner is dead so I need someone else to carry help me carry my mission else the Empire is doomed. Glemet, the fate of the Empire rests on each step we take and now, these people are our pawns. They are escaping this way, and we are taking the other." Tyr said pointing at the other direction.

Glemet froze for a second thinking of what just happened but Tyr shook him.

"Listen, you may as well go after them but if you come with me, you can make sure their sacrifice won’t go to waste one we deliver the report to the Emperor."

It was hard for Tyr to say what he said or to trust a stranger as much as it was hard for Glemet to believe in Tyr but there was a good point in what Tyr said. As a spy, he is manipulative but he has to complete his mission and he only chose to ally with Glemet because he was strong enough to back him up.

Yet that awoke something in Glemet.

"What’s in it for me?" He said.

"What?" Tyr was taken aback by the question.

"Why would I help you?"

"Because of the Empire needs..."

"Oh please! For all I care, you are someone pretending to be a Blade and even if you are one, following you around is more dangerous once we get out of here." Glemet said.

"... Fair point." Tyr looked to the side and thought, "Well, I know that you have been here for some time and you surely want revenge against the one who captured you? Maybe harmed someone you love?" Tyr suggested.

"..." Glemet wasn’t falling for immaterial benefits.

"Fine, I promise you rewards once we get to a safe zone. But if something happens to me, I want you to go for Skyrim and look for Knight-Captain Jonrad or Imperial Legate Cassia, tell them what happened and they will reward you. Deal?"

"... Fine. Deal!"

And thus the alliance of a hunted Blade agent and a nameless vagrant was formed behind the enemy lines.

The two didn’t wait any longer and followed a secret path under the fort leading out of the prison. During the riot that the fighter slaves started, the two tried to keep a low profile and slip through the chaos. But while the two were taking the route out of the fort, a figure came from behind them.

"HYA!"

A large rock was tossed at the two but they ran to the side immediately. Once they got ahold of what went down, they saw the Dremora Lord Reive coming after them with a bunch of cultists.

"I assume that’s Reive." Tyr stood forward.

"These mortals must not be allowed to reveal Lord Naarifin’s plans. Destroy them!"

Reive pointed his swords at Tyr and Glemet. The two were almost surrounded but they dragged backward allowing themselves to have a stand in a narrow spot.

"We’re outnumbered. Let’s take some of them out before they overwhelm us."

And a hairy fight started.

Glemet was but a caravan guard before this whole ordeal so his experience wasn’t that lacking yet from this day, his power started changing.

"Hya!"

With his voice, a fine Aura started forming around him giving him a slight advantage in the fight. His battleaxe broke after a few swings so he picked a sword and started killing while retreating.

Reive tried to stop the two but Tyr overwhelmed his opponents and joined hands with Glemet to deliver the finishing blow to Reive’s heart.

"You are stronger than I thought, mortal. But you will not be able to prevent The Culling. Blood will flow, and my master will let loose darkness upon the world." Reive said before his body falling apart and disappearing into the void.

By that, there were no dangerous opponents coming after them as far as they know but there was no telling what the Daedra had in play for them so they escaped north through the nearby woodland.

"Stop!" Glemet called pointing the sword at Tyr.

"Come on! What now?" Tyr seemed frustrated about Glemet’s actions.

"I just want to know one thing? That Daedra said something about Lord something’s plans, and... The Culling? What is going on here?" Glemet asked.

"I don’t know much." Tyr said.

"Do you think I believe you? Why are there Daedra assisting the Dominion? Who are we up against?" Glemet asked.

"I DON’T KNOW!"

Tyr seemed frustrated too.

"I don’t know what a ’Culling’ is even though it sounds ominous and I don’t know what Lord Naarifin is planning. All I know is, I have to go back and report what I know, that is my duty and frankly speaking, even though I like you, Glem, you’re a good warrior and all but you’re kinda a pain in the ass at the moment."

"Fine." Glemet dropped his complaining, "So... what do we do now?" He asked.

"This ’Culling’ and the Daedra’s involvement is not a good thing. I can go directly and report but there is an alternative that won’t waste much of our time. I have a friend, a Dunmer called Laaneth. She is Daedrologist so she must know of that ’Culling’. Her knowledge will save us time." Tyr said.

"... A Dunmer Daedrologist? Fine, lead the way."

And the two led out for their journey. Little did they know that this is merely the start of the end, the End of the Great War.

———————————

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