Of Eagles and Dragons, The Children of Kyne, Vol. IV Options

[Kane]

Act I

Prologue (4E 230)
Emperor Titus Mede II is dead. Convicted of Treasonous Sedition against the Empire and a Vassal State, the Elder Council cast his Writ of Execution with a unanimous vote on Loredas, the 1st of Last Seed, in the Two-hundred thirtieth year of the Fourth Era. The High Chancellor Anilay Cato was chosen to oversee the day-to-day administration of the crumbling Mede Dynasty, and the former head of state himself was hung from the gallows on Green Empire Way in the Imperial City for all to see.

It was a time of uncertainty in Cyrodiil, for there was yet to be a clear successor to the Ruby Throne, and rumors of Colovian and Nibenese warlords arming up to seize power for themselves were beginning to circulate among the populace. Many citizens of the Heartland secretly wished the Dragonborn king of Skyrim would lay claim by birthright, but so far there had been little news from the northern kingdom.

And with a patience born of long life, the Thalmor diplomats were content to watch quietly from their Embassy while their handlers ruled the Third Aldmeri Dominion with an iron fist. Altmer agents moved about in the shadows to sow discord and discontent wherever possible and worked tirelessly to keep the Empire from once again rising to prominence.

-----

Queen Penolore of the Summerset Isles strolled through the botanical gardens of Alinor with her royal retainer in tow. The ultimate ruler of the Aldmeri Dominion, Penolore reigns supreme over the Altmer of her homeland, the Bosmer of Valenwood, and the Khajiiti of Elswyr with an unrelenting grip. The Thalmor operate solely under her command, bringing order to her subjects and extending her reach over the rest of Tamriel. But on this day, she felt only contempt for the ineptness of the organization’s recent failures in combating the rise of a new alliance of power to the north.

The shrill fops in her retainer had followed her from the palace, prattling on endlessly about matters far beneath her station in a constant bid to curry favor with the monarch. Seeking a measure of peace and quiet, she finally had enough of the bickering for one day. Penolore came to a halt and raised a hand in warning.

“Shut up. All of you will shut up now or I shall have you thrown from the highest tower of my palace. Begone from here if you value your meaningless existences.�

They fell silent in deference to their queen and filed out of the gardens as quickly as possible. Not a single one of them were keen to be present for her wrath should it need to be unleashed upon whichever poor soul tarried. Only a single Altmer remained, clad in the traditional dark robes of the Thalmor.

“Have you more to say, Lisotel? I would have thought your inability to carry out even a single assassination of those miserable whelps to the north would have stayed your sharp tongue. Tell me what value you could possibly still offer your queen when others have been flayed alive for failures of a far less magnitude than your own.�

“I only offer news that our agents deemed relevant, milady.�

“Very well. Spit it out and remove yourself from my sight.�

Magistrate Lisotel hesitated for the briefest of seconds. It would have to be today of all days that he was assigned to her retinue, and a message from Solitude should arrive to their headquarters by carrier eagle. Penolore was already in a foul temper after his Thalmor compatriots failed to squash another uprising in Anequina, and now he was poised to deliver more unwelcome news to the surly queen.

“It is with great regret that our field agents in Skyrim report the return of the High King’s son to the Blue Palace. He apparently was spotted in the city yesterday morning in the company of an unknown Breton woman. Where he had gone or what he was up to over the last thirteen months is still a mystery, but we fear his arrival and reintegration with the royal family will push the king to finally issue a claim to the Ruby Throne.�

The queen had stooped down to examine a budding rose stem while Lisotel spoke and she snipped it free cleanly from the stalk with her pruning shears as the words tumbled from the Magistrate’s overworked mouth. It slipped free of her grasp, fell to the floor, and Penolore ground it to a pulp with the heel of her boot.

“Tell me, Lisotel, have we not discussed the merits of tending to one’s garden on many previous occasions? See how easily that is done? Pruning an errant growth is a simple task that is abundantly important in maintaining a healthy growth; one of which I know your Order is easily capable of facilitating. I am granting you a second chance to do as I have ordered. Should you fail once again, the citizens of Alinor shall bear witness to your entrails displayed upon the ruins of Crystal-Like-Law. Return to me when the task is completed, and not one second sooner.�

Bowing his head graciously, Magistrate Lisotel took leave of the queen. Penolore continued to care for the overgrown rose shrub, snipping off stray stems with malicious intent.

-----

“What news from Chorrol, Brother Cassian?�

“High Chancellor,� greeted the courier. “Brother Indus’ scouts report little movement from the camps deep in the Great Forest. If they have anything planned, it will likely not be for some time. Indus suspects they are having trouble recruiting loyal men for the cause. Of course, this would all be a lot easier to verify if we are given leeway to operate more independently.�

Anilay Cato set down his quill and pushed aside the letter he’d been penning. This wasn’t the first time Cassian had made a similar remark, and the chancellor was beginning to grow weary of reminding the man just how delicate the situation in Cyrodiil really was. A stronger hand may be required soon.

“This again? We’ve been over it many times already, Brother Cassian. I’m giving you the most resources I can without drawing scrutiny from the elves. If they discover the Blades have secretly been reformed, the Dominion will bring war to our doorstep immediately. Do what you can with what I have given you and let’s not speak of this again. There are plenty of other men who would love to be in your position.�

Brother Cassian recognized his dismissal and saluted smartly as he turned to leave. Anilay continued to stare absentmindedly at the door long after it had closed behind his captain. He again found himself wondering if reforming the Blades had been a wise move on the council’s part. The endgame of the it made sense to all involved, but Anilay felt the interim risk was too high, and he’d unsuccessfully pushed to have the vote temporarily stayed.

“Too late now,� he said to no one in particular. And with a heavy sigh, he returned to his unfinished letter.

There was another knock on the door and it took all of his restraint to not fling the quill at it and berate whomever deigned to bother him again. “Come in!�

An elderly Breton woman with long gray hair tied back in a ponytail, poked her through the partially opened door and saluted. “Is this a bad time, sir?�
“No, no, come on in, Delphine,� said Anilay. “Forgive my exasperated tone, I just got done reminding Cassian of our straits and I fear that I shall never finish this correspondence.� He rolled up the parchment and set it aside until the next day. “What can I do for you?�

“I’d like to request something of you.� Delphine entered the study and took the recently vacated seat across from the High Chancellor. After she settled in, Anilay gestured for her to continue. “Might I be sent back north to Skyrim? I know the High King from our time together during the Dragon Crisis, and I may be able to get a better read on his intentions than some of our other agents have.�

“Oh, really? But as I understand it, your time working together did not end well, no? As I recall, he asserted his authority as Dragonborn over you and walked away from your efforts to rebuild the order. What makes you think he’ll let you into his court after all these years?�

Delphine frowned. She hadn’t expected Anilay to be so well versed on her prior dealings as a rogue Blade in Skyrim. Truth be told, her efforts to kickstart the Blades, along with Esbern, in Sky Haven Temple had crumbled to dust after Kirin Windborne had walked away from them. Further recruiting efforts failed, and the wizened lore-keeper succumbed to illness not five years later. For her part, Delphine had faded into obscurity as a farmhand in the western Reach.

“Heard about that, did you? Well, you’re right in that there’s no guarantee, but I don’t know what else I can offer the Blades, sir. I’m old and my days of fighting are long since passed. This at least feels like something meaningful I can contribute.�

“I see,� replied Anilay. “And would you be up for such a journey, Delphine? Autumn is settling in over Skyrim and our men at Cloud Ruler have reported the Pale Pass is already under several feet of snow. It will not be easy going.�

“I’ll manage.�

The High Chancellor studied her for a moment and then he grabbed a new roll of parchment and dipped his quill in fresh ink. He scribbled away while Delphine waited patiently for his decision, wondering where fate would take her next. She had been so hesitant when the rumors of former Blades officers being brought back into the fold were swirling, and it wasn’t until Brother Cassian himself had tracked her down to a small plantation near Karthwasten that she allowed herself to believe they were true. The reality didn’t truly set in for her until she was assigned a room at Weynon Priory, on the outskirts of Chorrol, and asked to advise the younger Captains leading this new iteration of the fabled organization.

Anilay finished writing his new orders, signed, and stamped the bottom with an Imperial Seal before wrapping it up and handing it to Delphine. “Deliver this to Brother Cassian and return to Cloud Ruler with him to begin your preparations.�

“Thank you, sir,� said Delphine. “I’ll keep in touch.�

“A bit of advice, if I may?�

“Sir?�

The chancellor dug around in his desk for few seconds until he found the dossier he was seeking. Flipping it open, Anilay slid out a sketching of Cain Windborne and handed it to the waiting Breton. “If the High King offers resistance, try speaking to his son. I’ve met the man personally and he’s wise, clever, and kind to a fault. Not to say that his father is an ignorant old man, but sometimes younger eyes see things differently. I’ve gathered that Cain is back home in Solitude after being abroad following the death of his fiancé.�

Delphine bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. Everyone in Skyrim had heard about his loss, and people across the province had mourned for the young woman from Stonehills. There were even gossiping commoners in the taverns at night saying she had been pregnant at the time, but that was never officially confirmed by the High King’s court. If It were true, Delphine didn’t fault him at all for taking some time away, even if his whereabouts were a mystery.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.�

“Excellent. Take care on your trip, and dress warmly. I expect a letter by carrier bird as soon as you get settled in at Solitude. You’re dismissed, Delphine.�

Anilay watched her depart and then he glanced back over at his unfinished letter. Deciding it could wait until the morning, the chancellor left his office in search of a strong drink to end the day with. He wasn’t entirely convinced allowing Delphine to intrude on the High King’s court was a good idea, but he’d expected answers from Kirin Windborne for some time now, and was rewarded with nothing.

If another week passes like this I shall have to contact Cain myself. Perhaps the man would be willing to visit me in person.

The White-Gold Tower still bustled with activity in the evening hours, and so Anilay elected to don his commoner clothes and seek a drink at Luther Broad’s, instead.


This post has been edited by Kane: Jun 26 2025, 03:16 PM

[Kane]

We're getting into the thick of it now for sure! Definitely going to be seeing more of Penolore and her plans in act 3.


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Chapter XXVII – Missing in Action

The City of Kings was much too cold for the future king. Cain drew his heavy cloak in tightly to ward off the cold winds of the drafty stone city as he climbed the steps to the Palace of the Kings. Guardsmen and guardswomen bowed their heads respectfully while he passed through in the company of the Blue Palace guards that had escorted him to Eastmarch all the way from Whiterun. It had been a bumpy carriage ride, but the driver knew the land and safely brought them to the snowy city in only a few days’ time.

Cain noted the weatherworn plaques on the high stone walls and marveled at some of the names they bore. The legacy of this city could not be argued, even if it was slightly tarnished in more recent years. At the end of a long entry courtyard stood two impressively tall doors of timber inlaid with intricate wrought iron designs. A guard knocked twice upon the left-hand leaf, and it swung open effortlessly, a testament to the value of excellent craftsmanship and continued maintenance. The Jarl’s hall stretched out before Cain and his escorts, with a long dining table spanning the center that ended right near a raised plinth.

On the plinth sat a throne. And on the throne sat a rare sight: someone other than a Nord in charge of a capital city. Duren Gililo hailed from the Gray Quarter of Windhelm, and in the years since the Stormcloak rebellion failed, he’d risen from a bartender at the cornerclub to the Jarl of Windhelm.

“Greetings, Cain Windborne,� Duren called across the hall. “Come join us for supper. I’m sure it has been a long and cold journey to our humble city.�

Duren’s steward, whose name Cain did not yet catch, gestured towards an empty seat near the top of the table. He thanked the man and sat down directly across from the Jarl while the cadre of escort guards took up posts alongside the palace guards and kept keen eyes trained on the hall’s ingress points.

“Thank you, Jarl Duren. It has indeed been a cold journey, but nothing that warm clothes and a touch of magick can’t handle.�

“Ah, you have a penchant for the ‘clever craft’ as so many Nords tend to call it,� said Duren. “It’ll be a welcome change were the High King more open to the arcane arts...�

“I practice a touch of Restoration and Alteration,� acknowledged Cain. “From my time in the Fighter’s Guild of Anvil. Many warriors rely too strongly on potions. However, they did eventually come to see the wisdom of having a field medic, which meant I usually got to pick and choose which jobs I took.�

“But then you do not fear magick, like so many of the citizens of Skyrim?�

“Not at all. In fact, my fiancé is an accomplished mage, as are my sisters.�

They broke bread and filled their mead glasses from copper ewers while Duren digested this unforeseen kernel of information. With the College of Winterhold regaining prominence, and new Jarl’s such as himself finally making contributions to Skyrim at large, perhaps the old prejudices could start to wither. And the High Queen herself possibly being magickally inclined? It was almost too good to be true.

“I had not heard you were expected to marry once again,� said Duren. “We all of course heard about the loss of Anska of Stonehills last year. It is pleasing to know that her demise did not temper your existence. Losing those we love is never easy.�

“It’s a recent development, Duren. The news is only a few days old, in fact. But rest assured that my Gwyndala will make sure the entire province knows her name. She already has some strong notions about the educational systems in this land. Or lack thereof.�

“How interesting. I’d love to speak further about such subjects, but we unfortunately must discuss the minutia of bureaucracy while I have you in these halls, Mr. Windborne. I’ll ask my steward to bring out some more mead for these discussions. Or perhaps some sujamma, if you are so inclined?�

Cain agreed to the Jarl’s initial terms, and they were soon poring over various documents on Eastmarch’s financial holdings and operational guidelines.

-----

Candlehearth Hall offered little in the ways of entertainment, which suited Cain just fine. He was more than happy to order supper and catch up on his reading while his escort milled about keeping close tabs on the few patrons who felt up to leaving the comfort of their warm homes for camaraderie at the local tavern.

Besides, he was never truly alone.

My ass hurts so much. Gwyn’s voice trickled into his mind just as Cain turned a page. He replaced his bookmark and set the book down. This was a stupid idea.

Are you almost there?

Yeah. And let me guess… you’re sitting comfortably by a warm fire?

I can go stand out in the snow if it would make you feel better.

Don’t be an ass.

Love you, too.

The door to the inn swung open on the floor below and despite being up a flight of stairs in the open loft, Cain still felt the influx of cold air from beyond. He had just picked up his book again when hurried footsteps clambered up the stairs, and a courier bearing the Windborne family crest on his tunic darted over to Cain’s table.

“My lord,� bowed the courier. “I have a message from Solitude for you.� He handed Cain a sealed scroll, saluted hastily, and left to order a drink.
Curious as to that this could be, Cain unfurled the note and read it by candlelight.


Cain,
Riften can wait. Take your escort across the western road out of Windhelm and turn north near the Weynon Stones. Delphine and her guards have not reported back, and my scouts are unable to locate their whereabouts. Search for them in Duskglow Crevice and return to the palace with any information you can glean. And be careful.
Kirin


Frowning over the implications, he barely registered the tavern maid stopping by the table to refill his tankard. Nor did he notice her very unsubtle attempts at flirting.

Did that bitch just touch your arm? Do I need to come over there and explain who the [censored] I am?

Shaking free of his reverie, Cain smiled to himself. Not necessary, Gwyn. I wasn’t paying attention to her anyway. Just got a note from dad: something may have happened to Delphine. I’m off to follow her tracks in the morning.

There was a pause; and then: I don’t like that. Please be careful.

Always.

-----

The carriage driver refused to take them along the necessary road due to what he claimed were ‘unsafe moorings’ for the bridge across the River Yorgrim, so Cain exercised some of his authority and had the local garrison outfit he and his men with horses. He rode atop a gorgeous cream-colored Palamino with a well-tempered disposition and chatted with his Captain while they started the journey west.

“What do you make of it, Lorn?�

“My gut isn’t happy, if’n that’s what your askin’ milord,� replied Captain Lorn.

A stout Nord, Lorn had been a part of his escort since the first time Cain reasoned with his dad to have them dismissed, citing that he and Gwyn were more than capable of defending themselves. But he thought it wise to cave on the matter this time when they went their separate ways. Cain found that the captain had a good mind for tactics, and they often debated the merits of strategy and the history of warfare while they traveled. He knew Lorn would be someone he relied upon in the near future.

“I feel the same,� said Cain. “Something stinks, and I don’t think it will be chaurus scat.�

“Have you ever faced a chaurus?�

“Aye, once. There was a stray in the swamps of Hjaalmarch that attacked us. This was back when I first came to Skyrim, mind you, on our way up to High Gate.�

“Good. Then I won’t have ta warn you about the acid they spit!�

The sun rose higher and higher as the group trotted along the cobblestone road at a decent clip. Cain hoped to reach the cave Delphine had marked on his map in Dawnstar within a handful of days. They were making good time so far, but by late afternoon a fierce snow squall impeded their progress, and they had to hunker down for the night at the small hamlet nestled around Anga’s Mill. The lack of an inn meant pitching the tents, which the weather made all the more difficult.

Finally nestled inside his own modest tent Cain concluded that there was little to do other than continue reading from his book on Skyrim’s High Kings. He flipped through the rather dry pages on historical figures that his dad gave him, only pausing to read in-depth about the more prominent names that he knew. Eventually, his eyes began to droop, and he gave into the fatigue of a long day riding through the cold.

-----

A rocky path departed the road north into the heart of The Pale and led up a craggy snow-covered hillside. The entrance to Duskglow Crevice sat nestled into the side of a cliff and was barely discernible from its surroundings due to the overgrown brush and trees obscuring the little known Falmer den. Two escort guards armed with longswords led the way, hewing a path through the growth.

When they reached the cave mouth, Cain knelt down in the hard-packed snow but was unable to pick out any footprints or tracks. If something had happened, the evidence had been wiped clean.

“Weapons at the ready men.�

“I’ll lead, sir,� said Lorn. “Please step back.�

“No, I need all of you behind me,� instructed Cain. “Otherwise, our main advantage will be useless. And trust me when I say you do not want to be in front of me if I use the Thu’um.�

Captain Lorn deferred to Cain’s command of the situation and ordered the other men to draw their weapons and stay close behind their charge. Unfortunately, like all of the other Falmer dens that were visited over the last couple months, Duskglow Crevice turned out to be more of the same.

Empty.

“None of this makes any sense,� said Cain. “We know Delphine came here in a company at least matching our strength. How can they all have disappeared without a trace?�

“Doesn’t help that it’s so fetchin’ dark in ‘ere,� said Lorn. Torches and magick only help so much.�

Wishing he’d bothered to learn a Night Eye spell, or even pack a potion, his frustration nearly boiled over until Cain laughed suddenly, and clapped Lorn heartily on the back. “You’re a genius, cap. Go outside and fetch our rearguard. Sakiir can probably see anything and everything in these damn caves!�

Lorn saluted smartly, grabbed a replacement for Sakiir, and double-timed it back to the cave system’s entrance.

You only just thought of that? Gwyn asked, smugly. How long has the cat been with you now? Some leader you’re shaping up to be…

Shut up.

You know I love you.

This post has been edited by Kane: Oct 3 2025, 01:54 PM