rosemirelegacy

[rosemirelegacy]

30th Last Seed, Year of Akatosh 433

At last, a moment of respite. Jauffre is a priest with surprises—a Grandmaster of the Blades, the elite force of soldiers sworn to guard the emperor, hidden in a nondescript abbey! Truth, I would have scarcely believed it had he told me when first we met.

Where to begin? To say that I journeyed into Oblivion and returned whole seems so absurd and yet, that is exactly what happened. When I arrived at Kvatch, the city was besieged by horrid creatures from the Daedric realm. What I can only describe as a flaming tear in the sky—an Oblivion gate—had opened in front of the city gates. The Kvatch guard had its hands full, Gods know how but the task fell to me to close the gate. I cannot begin to describe the unnatural creatures within, the fiery landscape guarded by Daedra and demons… even the land itself is hostile, the flora attacks if one ventures too closely.

In the centre stood a metal fortress, a winding maze filled with even more Daedra and at its heart a structure that seemed to be made of… of living flesh. One of the Kvatch soldiers was locked up in a metal cage in this structure, and he begged me to leave him and find what the Daedra called a sigil stone, the artefact that keeps these Oblivion gates open. 

[Under this paragraph, a detailed sketch of a black orb covered in flames is centred on the page]

I found it, a sphere the size of a child’s ball, impossibly black and wreathed with flame. I plucked it from its pedestal and found myself transported back to Kvatch, the gate closed and the road littered with the bodies of these Daedric creatures.

Then there was the matter of Kvatch itself. The Kvatch guard and I swept through what was left of the city, annihilating every single Daedric creature that stood in our path to the Count. Alas, we were too late. The keep was overrun with these beings, and when I found the count his quarters were ablaze and his body spread-eagled and surrounded by creatures. I dispatched them quickly, and took the Count’s signet ring to return to the Guard.

Luckily, the Emperor’s son Martin was unharmed. ‘Twas likely the Gods’ own intervention that it took very little to convince him of the truth, and together we set off for Weynon Priory at first light.

Alas… yet again, we were too late. Jauffre was hale, thank the Nine, but the scarlet-clad mages had taken the Amulet of Kings. Jauffre led us to Cloud Ruler Temple, the bastion of the Blades.

The mountain air is thin, but refreshing and cool. Jauffre offered to induct me as a member of the Blades, but I declined. I have no wish to dedicate my life in service of the Empire, even if circumstance and the Gods see it fit for me to assist at the moment.

Tomorrow, I set off for the Imperial City. The scarlet-clad mages, I learned, are called the Mythic Dawn. There is a Blade spy in the City who has been researching these agents and Jauffre bids me to meet him.

[rosemirelegacy]

28th Last Seed, Year of Akatosh 433

Brother Jauffre was, understandably, skeptical of my claim. Producing the Amulet of Kings quickly changed his mind, and he bade me help myself to some supplies. Another brother is allowing me to use his horse so I do not have to make the trip to Kvatch on foot. Apparently, this ‘Martin’ has sequestered himself as a priest of Akatosh.

[There is a footnote on this page, hastily scrawled and smudged as if the ink hadn’t had time to dry before the pages were shut]

By the Nine, a gate to Oblivion has opened. Kvatch is all but destroyed.

[rosemirelegacy]

27th Last Seed, Year of Akatosh 433

It is with a weary and disbelieving hand that I write this, for I am but one of two people who knows that at this very moment, Emperor Uriel Septim lies dead, his final breath taken in the most ignominious of places: the sewer under his city.

I found myself at the Empire’s pleasure after a brawl of creative differences I have no regret starting in a local tavern—the All Saints, I believe—biding my well-deserved time calmly despite the clearly unsettled ravings of my cellmate across the way declaring my imminent death. It was on the third day that the guards came, but instead of bearing the keys to my freedom, they had an unexpected visitor in tow:

The Emperor.

The guards—strange guards, I might add, bearing neither armour nor regalia of the Imperial City—pressed what I can only assume was  a hidden button somewhere in my cell to reveal a passageway into the sewers. They commanded I stay in my cell, as if literally anyone possessing the slightest amount of sense would do so. Unarmed, but in possession of my wits, I sneaked out after them and managed to find an underground cavern littered with rats and various goblins. Fortunately for me, some poor soul lost their life long enough ago their bones had been picked clean and I was able to claim their bow and quiver for my own survival.

The caverns eventually lead me back into the undercrofts of the city, where the Emperor’s guards attempted to manhandle me for simply existing; but the Emperor stopped them, murmuring softly as he did in my prison cell about his fate and mine being intertwined. For whatever reason, this caused the guards to sheathe their weapons and demand that I protect the Emperor; not a moment too soon, for out of the shadows stepped scarlet-robed mages screaming something about murdering the Emperor.

Although three of us—that is, one guard, the Emperor, and myself—survived the ambushes, we eventually came upon a cave-in. Once more the guard bade me watch over the Emperor, but the old man pulled me aside just as they were out of earshot and told me that he was destined to die at that spot. He pressed upon me a brilliant amulet, the gem a behemoth and utterly priceless, instructing me to seek out a man named Jauffre to find his bastard son.

He then must have paralysed me with magic, because he pushed me away just as a hidden panel behind him slid open and another scarlet-robe mage struck a fatal blow. Upon his death, the paralysis was lifted and I fought for my life; the guard returned, but it was too late.

[Here, several lines are blurred with runny ink and water-stained splotches]

—weep for a man I hardly knew, never mind an Emperor who seems more a concept than a person, but my heart is not yet stone.

Time is of the essence. I must find this secret heir if the line of Kings is to be preserved. I ride to Weynon Priory as soon as this stablemaster sees it fit to saddle me a horse. If he takes much longer, I might just help myself.