User blog:Psychomantis108/The Fall of the Aubeanic Reign (The unused chapters): Chapter II - Cloak, Dagger and Payment

It had reached midnight in the Hammerfell town of Elinhir, there a young, Redguard Man sat, leant against the backwall. His left hand and elbow rested on the wooden dinner table as his face was illuminated by the warm, orange glow of a candle to his right. The man looked around thirty, though he was actually older, much older.

His hair was slicked back into corn rows and he had an intense scar across his face. His beard was trimmed in the 'dead man's hand' style, which he always found to be fitting, given his curse.

The man wore a Hammerfell style leather vest and a long sleeveless coat, which was torn at the bottom, giving him that rogue image. Though his skin was dark, like most Redguards, it also had a very slight tinge of grey...

It wasn't all that noticeable, from a long distance but it had caused him a few problems over the years. Ever since Landyt's occupation of Skyrim, many have found themselves fearing fallen infultration, the idea of sub race of walking corpses, like vampires or werewolves, creatures that blended in society and masquraded as humans until the opportune time frightened the people of Hammerfell, High Rock, Cyrodiil and Morrowind.

This fear of the undead was especially prominent in Bruma and other places like it. Basically, anywhere close to the boarder, where the conditions were very similar, unchanged even to that of Skyrim. The Fallen have never made such an attack before, normally the fog would do the work for them or Landyt would just send his floating ships to clean house.

As far as most people who studied the Fallen were aware, they don't ever leave Skyrim, a fact that comforts some and terrifies others.

The Redguard found himself neither comforted or terrified, just... bored.

Where the hell did he get to? He thought, fixing his eyes on the door. It was then, as if his employer had sensed his mood, that he saw the door open, the gnarled wood creaked and groaned as it was lifted off of the hinges and slowly opened, revealing a much older looking Redguard man, in a mix between ceremonial and official robes.

"Cyrus... Kodlak?" His voice was strong and quite powerful, yet slightly timid as he knew who was talking to.

"Yeah, that's me." The 'younger' Redguard replied, quite casually as he got up to greet the old man, who swiftly shut the door behind him and approached Cyrus, pulling his hood back and showing his balding head.

"I'm glad that you could come..." He began hurridley as if he expected disaster to strike at any moment.

"Not like I had much of a choice, the people at your office should work on their interpersonal skills." Cyrus mocked, drawing the harshly worded letter from his coat pocket and waving it in the air, like a fan. The Redguard then slammed it down on the table before sitting back and folding his arms.

"You got a speech planned? I think you should get to it now..."

"R-Right..." THe Official muttered, not knowing what was in the letter as he didnt' write it personally.

Hit interviewee took controll, gesturing with his hand to the seat opposite.

The representative gave Cyrus a nervous nod as he wandered around the table and slowly lowered himself onto the seat opposite.

"Mr Kodlak, I understand that we haven't been exactly... Hospitable to you, over the last six months..."

"That's an understatement." Cyrus mocked, sitting back and grinning in his chair. If he was to be honest about the whole thing, he'd probably admit that he had just come here to turn him down, face to face.

That lettr was the final nail in the coffin as far as civility was concerned. Still, he thought he'd dignify the old far with a verbal refusal at least.

"Cyrus... I understand that you may have been a little... Insulted. But your help is crucial to our survival."

This was enough to surprise and even intrigue Cyrus as his eyes widened and he leant forward.

This man, who sat before him was so vain that he didn't even dress down out of his robes to be incognito. There was no way in Oblivion that this proud fool would admit a truth like that unless it was the truth.

It was odd as this realisation brought no comfort to him, it actually made him feel even more uneasy.

"I thought you eggheads had it all under control." Cyrus replied, without any trace of mockery this time as he was still in shock from the 'we need your help' line.

"N-No... The truth is? We can't pin this thing down, sometimes its airborn, sometimes its not. We've had cases where whole households have fallen but one person survives. One 'lucky' person, surviving the plague that killed their parents, siblings and making it out unscathed.

How do you fight something like this?"

Cyrus obviously didn't have an answer, all he could do was look up to the nearest bookshelf and read the spines to distract himself.

'Beggar prince, Dragonborn, Confessions of a Skooma Addict, the second Oblivion Crisis, Two Timing in the Tiber Septim, The Mysterious Merchant and the newest one in the series, written with the notes found by her great, great, great, etc grandaughter, who has taken up writing herself, the feedbag fantasy...

"Mr Kodlak?"

Cyrus snapped out of it, getting hit with a battering ram of reality once more, shaking his head and turning his attention back to his... Associate.

"The point is..." The councillor began, sounding incredibly impatient at this point, "That in order for us to survive, we're going to need... We'll need your gift."

"Gift?" 'Mr Kodlak' chuckled, sitting back in his chair.

"That ain't what you've been callin' it for the last... six months. Everyone out there who's gotten 'emselves two feet away from me has said that I'm Fallen."

The councilor was afraid of this and if it wasn't for the fact that he needed this man, he would have given up trying to earn his favour, long ago.

"I'm sorry, Cyrus, but I can't control rumours."

"The hell you can't! Man, the thing I've done for you people! I helped kill some damn dragon priest, crazy Wiz..." He hung his head and winced, an involuntary shot of rage, whenever he thought about... him.

"I lost my best friend for you people, for Akatosh's sake!"

This left the other Redguard in a state of awe, Cyrus was rumoured to be so... calm and collected, one look at him and you'd accept those rumours as fact and yet here he was, losing it over something, something traumatic, from the sounds of it but... still...

Cyrus realised that his mountainous exterior had errupted, unleashing the pent up anger of the sixteen year old Redguard trapped inside. He fell back, into his chair and sighed heavily, running his hand down his face, the ghostly hand on his face tickled his palms and fingertips.

"I... Know, that you have been through a lot Cyrus and that is why I am offering you this chance to work for the people of Hammerfell, proving that not only are you not a threat but that you are also on their side."

"Why do I gotta prove that?" The Scarred Redguard asked, raising an eyebrow.

He was obviously unsulted by the notion as that sounded like... like the officials had accepted the rumours of him being one of the Fallen as truth. he was obviously insulted by the notion as that sounded like he was being forced to 'give back.'

"I ain't got anything to give back, the people have been looking at me, like I'm part daedra."

"I am aware that the people here haven't exactly been treating you fairly. But they need you. We all do...

There was a long pause, that hung in the air as Cyrus and this man, who was a complete puzzle, sat in silence as Cyrus dwelled on the desperation of the councilman. There were moments where the man spoke with genuine respect, though Cyrus knew that this was most likely to win him over, fill him with patriotic pride and then dump him in the frozen tundra of Skyrim. He didn't plan to fall for such a rus.

"Why? What do you 'need' me for?" He finally decided to ask, falling back into his chair and getting ready for the older man's pitch.

The older man took this chance and stood up as he slowly began to pace around the room, buildin up a series of words in his head. The truth, the more manageable truth, some lies for effect...

"According to my scholars, you suf-" He paused to think of a more delicate phrase.

"Your... Condition, stems from a condition very similar to Corpuss, a condition that plagued Morrowind during thir blight, in the 3rd Era...

This... if my scholars are right, makes you... unique."

Cyrus shruggred, he wasn't exactly special as similar things had been done like this before. In fact, didn't the Nervarine, Azura's champion 'suffer' from the same condition? Hermaes Mora inflicted it on him and it wasn't something he wanted, even then.

"Cyrus, these creatures, the 'Fallen,' they suffer from a similar condition." He then stopped himself, realising that he'd just abandoned his delicate approach.

"Corpus and people who have come into contact with it, is a similar condition to the point that we belive that you might be immune to the blight."

Cyrus gave a faint smile at this, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, with a smirk. He knew where he was going with this, he was so lurgied up that the blight wouldn't affect him, they'd end him into Skyrim, a suicide mission and rest easy, knowing that he would return to his own kind.

"So... You want me to hop the boarder and go, live with the zombies?"

Now it was the councillor's turn to be dissapointed, he sighed, heavily and brought his hands to his eyes.

"Cyrus, if I wanted- if we wanted, you would have been sent away months ago. This isn't banishment, we have a purpose for sending you over the boarder and we can't force you to do it."

Cyrus' eyes continued to fix on the councilman, narrowing as they stared him down. They both knew the truth, if they could hold the rogue to ransome, threaten his home, family or even his life, then they would have done it agest ago but Cyrus cared for nobody or no thing, he'd outlived his loved ones and had no propety or social status of his own.

They couldn't even threaten to kill the Redguard as he had wanted to die for centuries, they'd be doing him a favor, if they did that...

Killing him would be granting him a blessing, a mercy even... Despite all of this, the silent insults, the lack of respect, the dithering idiot sent to insult him further...

He still felt inclined to help...

Cyrus sighed and slowly sat up, causing the councillor to give him a surprised glare, a hopeful gaze, like a trapped animal begging for help. Still, Cyrus remained silent, his left and right brain were at an impass, currently in session, aggressively debating as to whether or not they should proceed.

Eventually, the Rogue sat up and looked him in the face.

"Say if I... Were to agree to this." He began, carefully...

"What would you need me to do?"

The Councillor was so shocked that he lost his words, it took him a few moments of bumbling to get to his point.

"We... Believe that the recent plague could well be a product of our neighbours."

"Landyt's new weapon or something?"

"N-No, Landyt hasn't made any threats to Hammerfell or High Rock, only to Morrowind and that was more to Tiberionus than to Morrowind itself. We believe that the plague is an unintended side effect of Landyt's blight."

He sighed, heavily as he began to scratch his head, swaying from side to side as he continued to think on how to process his request.

"Cyrus... We believe that the fallen carry the plague."

The 'younger' Redguard narrowed his brow, finally having some idea as to where he was going with this.

"And you want me to, what, kill all of the Fallen?" The way that Cyrus asked the question implied that he was mocking the idea but the smile soon left his face as he saw the frown on the older Redguard.

That's exactly what he wanted him to do.

"Wait... You're kidding right?" Cyrus asked, his eyes bulged as he felt his entire body go cold.

"That ain't..." He paused, thinking some more on it. Tiberionus had been fighting them for years, decades even but the Fallen just don't die. Well, they do die, in the hundreds, thousands even... But...

The dead will always outnumber the living...

"Of course, we don't expect you to kill them all in combat." The Elder added, with a slight smile, a weary one, one that was forced to hide his true feelings of exhaustion and despair.

"Like the events of twenty years ago, when the Blighted Knight took Falkreath, the Fallen will die out if their leader is slain."

Cyrus continued to stare, that somehow sounded even more impossible...

Kill Landyt? Nobody even knows where he is and even if they did know what city he dwelled in, the fog was so thick and intense, that they'd never find it. Not to mention the thousands of Fallen between the Hammerfell boarder and Landyt himself and the fact that his ship can fly and the fact that Landyt isn't a man to be screwed with, fallen or no.

"Yeah?" Cyrus asked, his tone mocked the proposition, saying 'is that all?'

"Look, if you wanted me to die that badly..."

"This isn't about you, Cyrus, this is about us about our survvial!" The Elder Snapped, finding himself losing control again as the sheer desperation overfaced him.

"We are facing a crisis Cyrus! One that gets worse, every day! We're digging mass graves for citizens, every day, burning villages to the ground! Every day it's getting worse!"

He gasped, leaning on the table nad clutching it as he took several deep breaths to calm down.

"So you're exiling me? Sending me on a suicide mission, to kill some crazy Pirate Captain? Killing the Fallen ain't going to get rid of this plague."

"Maybe not but there's more to it than that... If the Fallen can indeed catch this plague, then that puts High Rock and Cyrodiil at risk. Not only are they at risk of accidental contamination but we're also at risk of them...

Purging us..."

"Purging?"

"It is more than possible that the leaders of High Rock and the Empress herself may see fit as to join in." The Elder explained, his brow wrinkled as he did so, his eyes were tired and swollen, from where he hadn't slept in weeks, revising this possibility inside his head.

"But the worst case scenario? If the Fallen are carrying the plague and Landyt finds out? He'll likely infect his entire army."

"Wh-What? Why?"

"This flu would be the perfect upper hand in his in his war against Tiberionus. A biological weapon, that can take out thousands of people at a time and growing his numbers. Whether Landyt knows this or not, he has the potential to creat an unstoppable force, he could potentially spread his influence across the world, like wildfire!"

Cyrus listened intently, still processing all the doom and gloom. The Elder leaned forward, plaicng both of his hands firmly on the table.

"Do you now see what is at stake? This isn't about you or me or even Hammerfell itself anymore!

Tamriel, maybe even the entirety of Nirn is at stake!

Frederick Landyt must die!"