User blog:Psychomantis108/The Fall of the Aubeanic Reign (The unused chapters): Chapter IV - The Chosen (Part 1)

This chapter's really long and it takes a while to type these up, so I'm splitting it into two parts.

Landyt continued to dwell in his study, slowly returning to reality as his fingers grazed the arms of his chair. He had the boy, locked up and contained as he made his way to the newly constructed Imperia Tower. The tower was but a tree stump, compared to the grand sight of its predecessor, the white gold tower but it was likely that it would be built on even further, when Arrianna had settled in.

The Pirate Captain watched it on the horizon, grinning and bearing his black, rotten teeth as he did so. He knew little about his new 'guest,' just that he had some connection to the companionship that defeated Telemachus and saved the world. Landyt, like Tiberionus, was given a list of names with high prices on their heads. Isis Oakvale, Cyrus Harin, Eilonwyn 'Julie' Halison, Jaryl Oakvale, Telim Oakvale, Agatha Tira and a few others, who are rumoured to be dead.

Landyt had better things to do with his time than fly around looking for a bunch of illiterate yahoos to be kidnapped. He only took Niall, because Arrianne specifically requested it. The boy was harmless and capturing him pretty much confirmed his suspicions that he wasn't a threat. The fact that he was kidnapped to satisfy Morgan's for revenge just proved how pointless going after those other fools would be, especially with with the war going on.

As his eyes returned to the new capital, he felt a powerful gust of wind hit him, which blew back the tails on his coat and the thin, lifeless hairs on his head. His milky, souless, eyes continued to stare on, into the distance.

The reward money should be enough to turn the tide of this war, giving him the tools to bury Tiberionus and his pitiful resistance. It was rare that all of the collaboration met in the same room, though when they did, a truce was always declared, so that the meeting wouldn't break out into a fight to the death. Landyt didn't understand why, his fued with Tiberionus could be solved in the space of an hour. Perhaps Arrianne just feared the floor of her new war room being ruined by the fowl blood, bits of brain matter and skull fragments of the Dunmeri Usurper.

Landyt looked up to the moon and stars, his tired, undead eyes continued to dwell on them as he thought about arriving at Tower Morgan, as he often refered to it as, he could never be bothered to memorise its true name. Such things were below him.

His ship was just about to enter the city; the bow was just about to enter the boundaries of imperia.

A rhythm of heavy foot steps could be heard as his first mate approached from behind. His first mate was a Nord Woman, who looked just as dead as he did, the circles under her eyes weren't as dark as his, a sort of dark grey colour compared to Landyt's pitch black eye sockets and nose. She came up behind him and stood by his side. She was the only member of his crew who had the nerve to take her place by his side.

"Quiet night tonight." She noted aloud, glancing up to her Captain, who seemed to be ignoring her, though she knew that he was listening, he was always listening...

"It's Cyrdoiil..." He pointed out, with a hint of frustration in his voice.

"It's always 'quiet' here."

His right hand nodded and returned her attention back out to the skies in front.

"Do you have something to report?" The Pirate Captain hoped to cut through the small talk, since it only annoyed him.

His right hand looked back out, onto the horizon, seeing that the ship had long since entered new Imperia and sooner or later, you'll be able to reach out and touch it but after hearing, he probably wouldn't get the chance.

"There's... Something happening in Markarth..." This did get his attention as nothing 'happens' in his lands. The lack of life kept people out, anyone stupid enough to enter were often slaughtered. Still, Markarth was a boarder city and the Breton of the Reach have been hoping to reclaim it for... centuries now.

"What?" Landyt sounded reserved and quite calm, despite the revelation.

"I-we... Don't know but Mervik has seen it."

Landyt just scoffed at the name, obviously finding it difficult to take the old fool's advie seriously. Mervik was the crew's wizard, a hermit who had spent the best part of two hundred years living on his own, it did him not much good. Not only is he forgetful and completely mad, waking up at three AM and screaming curses at the dark, zoning out for minutes at a time, mid sentence and confining himself to one of the prison cells in case he saw a horror from his past, in the shape of an irreplaceable ornament and he broke it in fear but he was also a mage and to an old Nord, this was the most repulsive thing about him.

Still, even if he did detest him, he didn't distrust him, if Mervik saw something, then he had no reason to doubt him. Something was happening in Markarth and whatever it was, he had to go back and stop it.

"Change course for Skyrim."

"What about the boy?"

"He's not going anywhere..."

Landyt entered the door, just right of the Captain's deck and began his descent, his boots clipped and clopped as he got deeper and depper to the bottom of his ship.

"Fredrick..." A voice inside his head hissed, prompting him to grunt and reach up for his forehead.

Liar...

"Sh-Shut up!" He shrieked, snapping his head up and aggressively looking around for the source of the voice, strangely, they were always gone, when he did this. He continued to pant, regaining his strength and sanity as he did so..."

"Bastard phantoms..." He seethed before continuing to the old man's study.

