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]

Acadian: I'm too nice to wipe out an entire race. Not even the Falmer deserve that. Quite the opposite in fact. And this will definitely be an eye opener for Gwyn.

Grits: welcome to Act 3! Things are heating up in a hurry, eh?

=================

Chapter XXX – On the Trail

Sakiir joined Cain, Lorn, and the others where the tunnels of Duskglow Crevice ended and he saluted his captain. “What does this one need of Sakiir?�

“Your tracking skills, Corporal. We need to know if anything other than the Falmer were here.�

“Very well. I shall take a look around.�

Cain moved to the path leading out of the cavern and waited patiently with Lorn. He busied himself checking the straps of his armor and honing the edge of his blade to keep from awkwardly watching the Khajiit flit about the icy cave in search any elusive clues. Cain hated when others watched him work and he always tried to avoid doing it himself.

Captain Lorn, however, resolutely observed every move Sakiir made as if he was proctoring an examination in a schoolhouse. Cain nearly told the Nord to relax, but it occurred to him that an aspect Lorn’s job was just that: making sure those under his command performed their duties to the letter.

They didn’t have long to wait before Sakiir came to an abrupt stop and hissed.

“Over here!� he called out to them. “The stench of Mer is prevalent on this wall. Most likely an Altmer.�

“High Elves?� said Lorn. “In here? Somethin’ fishy about that, m’lord.�

“I agree,� said Cain. “Sakiir, can you inspect the tunnels leading back to the surface? If an elf was careless enough to leave a strong scent here, we might get lucky yet. We’ll bring up the rear.�

“Aye, sir. But this one must stay at least five paces behind Sakiir. Your man stenches are just as strong.�

“I’ll try not to take offense to that,� chuckled Cain.

The Khajiit headed back into the tunnels with his nose at the ready. Winding their way back up the surface took much longer with Sakiir at the lead – his thoroughness slowed them down considerably, but impressed Lorn greatly and the captain felt he’d earned a promotion by the end of this unexpected detour.

Three hours later, Cain spotted the telltale glow of daylight and began to feel dejected. Gwyn sensed it offered a small amount of consolation.

Cat didn’t find anything else?

No. At least… not yet. But we’re almost back to the entrance.

It was a long shot, my love. Don’t beat yourself up about it.

I know. Just thought maybe – wait. Sakiir hissed again.

Cain and Lorn dashed ahead to where the Khajiit stood in a small alcove near the entrance, pawing at something stuck in the muddy ice.

“Filthy Thalmor! Their stink is all over that broach!�

Lorn stooped over and pried the object free from the ice. Glistening even though covered in grime, the golden eagle indicated beyond doubt that the Aldmeri Dominion yet operated in Skyrim, despite being expelled many years ago by the Dragonborn king.

Cain ruminated silently on the implications of their discovery. They were a long way from any province borders, and the nearest port was in Dawnstar, over two weeks away on foot. And what would they be doing in a Falmer den? And why take Delphine? His father needed to know at once, so Cain took out a slip of parchment and a bit of charcoal from his traveling bag and scratched out a hasty note.

“Lorn, give this to your fastest runner and have them take it to Dunstad. They ought to have carrier pigeons there. It’s for the King’s eyes only and must not be opened, understood?�

“Aye, m’lord.� Lorn took the note and stepped out under the night sky. “Olna!� he yelled.

A thin Imperial woman from their cadre snapped to attention. “Yessir!�

The captain handed her the note and her new orders. Olna checked over her armor fitting and made sure her boots were snug before dashing off into the moonlit wilderness, bound north for the village of Dunstad and the same garrison Delphine had enlisted the guards of her ill-fated endeavor for.

The rest of them set up camp down the hill from Duskglow and retreated to their tents after a hasty meal. Tomorrow marked a new day, and they were now further away from Riften than originally planned. Cain sat alone in his tent and stared longingly at the little smudge on his map where Elysium sat empty. At this rate, it would be several weeks until he set foot in those walls again.

It’s never soon enough, is it?

Never. I miss you. How are things going with Linn?

Well enough, answered Gwyn. She’s a lot of fun. You two are more alike than I realized. Now go get some sleep; I can feel how tired you are.


[centre]-----[/centre]


After a fair bit of backtracking through the cold Skyrim winter on horseback, Cain and his guards eventually crossed the River Yorgrim for a second time and began the southern leg of their journey to The Rift. The hot springs in the volcanic lowlands of Eastmarch offered a warm reprieve from the bitter winds, though the air remained cold enough for flurries of snow to fall and meet their end on the ashy soil. Hot springs casting lofty towers of steam dotted the landscape, and, more than once, the travelers left the road to make camp near one and soak away the aches of riding.
Gwyn chose to remain silent during these times, and it wasn’t hard for Cain to pick up on her annoyance to the fact that he got to bathe in piping hot waters while she fought off the constant cold of the mountainous Reach and the Forgotten Vale. And he’d learned to let it be instead of teasing the fiery Breton, even if it was from a good place.

On the eve of the thirteenth day, they crossed into a dense pine forest bordering the volcanic tundra to the north, and the aspen forest to the south. There, a road running east-west straddled the bottom of a vast mountain range with only one stop along the way: the small town Darkwater Crossing. It was in this little mining village that Cain and company finally found a tavern with proper beds to sleep in, and kegs of mead to drink from. He was knee deep into a second tankard when the door burst open and a town guard entered with a pigeon on his shoulder and a scroll bearing the King’s emblem clutched in his fist.

Recognizing Lorn’s regalia, the guard stomped over to the bar and handed him the note. “Cap’n! This arrived moments ago. It’s addressed for High King’s son, Cain Windborne!�

“Over here,� Cain beckoned. He took the note from the guard and slit open the seal with his dagger while the guard made all sorts of honorable platitudes. “I appreciate all that, but please return to your post. And, thank you.�

“Aye, sir!�

The guard left, and Lorn waited patiently for the boss to read the letter, and to learn if it pertained to him in any way. He figured it did not, as the face on his charge remained placid while Cain’s eyes roved further down the parchment until he sighed, crumpled up the note, and threw it in the fire pit at the inn’s center.

“On we go to Riften, Lorn.�

“Good. I was hopin’ to visit the meadery while we’re in town..�

Cain watched in amusement as the captain punctuated that statement by finish his fifth pour of the sweet spirit. “Never met a mead you didn’t like, eh Lorn?�

“Never.�

“Just make sure you can manage to walk come morningtime. I’m turning in.�

The Redguard tipped the barkeeper and sought the surprisingly posh chair in his tiny room intending to take another crack at his book. He should have guessed this to be in vain, as he only made it through about three paragraphs before Gwyn stole into his mind in quite the state.

This is going about as poorly as one could have expected.

Oh? Not much progress then?

Well, only one of the clan chiefs tried to [censored] murder us today, so I guess that’s a sign of improvement. Honestly, I don’t know how your sister has the patience for this madness. She plays it down, but Linn is a born diplomat. Makes sense why your dad sent her and Serana to Morrowind. Bringing the Dunmer to our side was probably one hell of an achievement, but it will pale in comparison to anything she achieves here.

Anything you both achieve, Gwyn. Don’t undersell your own contributions.

That’s cute, but I don’t think the elf takes my opinions seriously. [censored] thinks I’m too brash.

What about Linn?

She backs me up. But Gelebor is treating the Falmer with lace gloves. He needs to be more firm.

I have faith in you, hon. In the both of you. But maybe you need to have an aside with Gelebor and try to have him come around. Let loose on him instead of playing the diplomat. And maybe do that without Linn around.

Gods, I [censored] love you. No one gets me like you do, Cain Windborne. I’ll keep that advice in mind.


[centre]-----[/centre]


Cain was barely more impressed with Riften than he had been with Winterhold. At least that city made an earnest attempt to crawl back from the literal brink, and improve the lives of the few citizens it had. Riften, on the other hand, seemed to be nothing more than a crime-ridden pile of rotten timber and polluted canals. There were more beggars per square foot than he’d ever seen, and Lorn had to warn him ahead of time to keep his coinpurse lashed in place lest one of the less fortunate swipe it with deft fingers.

But it had the honor of being the last stop on his trip. An honor which fade quickly after introductions were made with the Hold’s Jarl: Hemming Black-Briar. Cain disliked the man instantly, and his gut had never steered him wrong.

It took every ounce of patience he had to not strangle the entitled whelp, and when Cain left Mistveil Keep following the briefest meeting of all seven other Jarls, he was in a rare foul mood that even kept his fiance from chiming in on the matter. Instead, he made straight for the meadery where he knew Lorn would be, and bellied up to the bar for more mead.

After the fourth pint in less than an hour, Gwyn very firmly suggested he find another way to cool off. He’d been combative with her at first but she drove her point home with a dagger by reminding him of their time together in Evermore.

That was a low blow.

Got my point across, didn’t it? Go find a quiet place to sober up. I’ll even leave you alone if you feel like reading. I promise.

Find such a place proved to be quite the task. Cain first stopped by the Bee and Barb, but that turned out to be one of the rowdiest taverns he’d ever set foot in. Probably something to do with the amount of illicit trade, he reasoned. And the bunkhouse run by an old woman appeared to be a brothel in everything but the name. In the end, he walked slowly back to the meadery, gave Lorn implicit instructions not to bother him, went back outside, and ducked behind a tree before recalling to Elysium for some peace and quiet. Or so he had hoped.

You selfish asshole, chastised Gwyn. I can’t believe you went home to relax while I’m stuck here trying to do the impossible.

Hey, I’m just following your advice! Even got my book sitting on the table beside me.

That’s not what I meant and you know it. I love you to bits, but you better keep that healing spell primed for when I see you again, idiot.

Love you, too. Why not join me? Will Linn really miss you for an hour?

...You know what… I don’t care if she does. Give me a few minutes. And you better hope that mead won’t hinder your performance.