Balgruuf the Great ch 44 preview (Patreon)

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Hammerfell

Their scouts had watched them silently, their golden armor gleaming underneath the harsh sun. 

The scouts were unseen, hidden in the sands and their steely black eyes spied on the elves. One of the scouts noticed an elf reach for a waterskin and drink from it. He would note that elf was smart enough to bring with him a waterskin. Many mer hadn't, arrogantly and foolishly believing that their magicka would be enough to sustain them while they were in the desert. 

Their mages, perhaps. But not their soldiers, not their pack animals, and when their magicka weakened, not them. 

Mastery of Destruction, Conjuration, all the different schools certainly made one powerful. But it did not make one immune to thirst, to heatstroke...to the end of their blades.

But it was not the time yet for killing. The scouts would watch and wait until the elves marched into their trap. An oasis hidden behind protective hills. It was a popular spot for travellers and the caravanserai. And soon enough, it would be famous for something else entirely.

These people had long lived with the sands. Their ancient homeland was an oasis in the desert and their new homeland, forged for them by warriors who shamed the wind with their speed, was an oasis for them as much as their old one was. They watched the haughty elves march in their columns of gold and crystal glass, of their foreign magics and foreign ways. The desert usually claimed them, unprepared as they were for Hammerfell's harshness. But now, the warriors of the Nizari tribe would take that honor. 

As the elves relaxed their guard and some even were foolish enough to fall asleep, they pounced. 

Bursting from the sands, their warriors attacked like snakes, their curved scimitars their fangs. They fell upon the elves without mercy and with the swiftness of the wind.

The ones who slept or spaced out died quickly. Those who saw that they were in a trap realized that they were under attack and had enough time to scream before the Nizari sent their souls to Aetherius. Some elves ran, remembering that one avenue of escape which was the entrance. An opening the Nizari left. 

And that opening, Hrongar would exploit. 

Hidden behind a dune, he could see a glint in the distance. That was the signal. Reaching into his back, the Nordic warrior pulled out his blade, a greatsword who was as tall as him. Beside him and behind him, his fellow Nords also pulled out their own weapons. Longswords, axes, bows, lances. 

They all glinted underneath the sun, their metal seemingly begging for blood. 

Blood he was all too willing to give. 

Hrongar lifted his greatsword up high, getting the attention of all his riders. "Forward and attack!" There was no speech to be given, no encouragements needed. These men rode with him and his brother in Cyrodiil. They all remembered every tender mercy the elves had given to the people there. Then, they thought of the same thing happening to their families and to their homes, to fair Skyrim. And to make it even more personal, the outlawing of the worship of the Ninth Divine. 

The elves seemed to have thought that was the end of it as the Empire slowly forgot the man turned God, their founder. But the Nords remembered. And they were more than willing to remind the elves which sphere Talos, the Ninth Divine, ruled. 

Hrongar kicked his horse forward and Cyrus, the name he had given to his Redguard horse, charged. Hundreds upon hundreds of hooves joined him, a terrible dust storm kicking up behind them. Their beloved Nordic steeds had to be left behind in Cyrodiil, both as a precautionary measure to show that technically, their horses and belongings were there so they never left and because the poor horses would die in the hot sands and grasslands of Hammerfell. 

But now, Hrongar had other things in mind than his horse, beloved as that bastard stallion was. No, he was here to teach the elves a lesson they wouldn't soon forget and with their long lives, they would be sure to remember it with each day. He pulled out his horn and blew into it. He was later joined by the other riders, their horns long and deep, pouring into the sands and the wind and the dunes. Hrongar spied elves trying to run from the oasis, quick targets to be had. His attention was focused on the ranks the elves were trying to form around their leader, clad in the crystal-like armor richer and more important elves liked to wear. It was difficult to pierce, usually, but the openings around the mouth and neck made for good targets. And protective as it was, a horse charge coming down at them was still a horse charge. 

His greatsword flashed and fell upon a hapless elf, his head taken off in one clean swipe. Hrongar twisted on his saddle and cut down another elf with such force that it had fully cleaved the elf in half. His other Nords were gaining their kills as well, Lances piercing through flesh and muscle and bone. Swords and axes chopping and cleaving. Bows and arrows filling elvish spines. Hrongar relished in it, bloodlust in his eyes. Grasping his blade, he loomed over another elf, pure terror in her pretty green eyes, her armor shaking in terror. He dispatched her with the same swiftness and skill that was wasted on elves. 

"Arevalya, no!" came the pained cry of the Altmer captain. Hrongar's eyes shot up to the captain, rage in his eyes. "You will pay for this, Nord!" 

Hrongar did not reply as he urged his horse to turn towards the captain, his riders behind him trailing after their leader. 

The cries of dying elves rang out and joined with the moaning of the sand and the wind. It was a terrible thing to witness but the desert had no eyes and ears, save for the sand, the rocks, and the dunes. It was another secret that the Alik'r would hide, among many others.

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Hrongar took a waterskin into his mouth. Around him came the nasty business of cleaning up the mess of battle. Nizari and Nord dragged bodies into a pile to be burnt. The Nizari had no belief of burial, only cremation, for fear of necromancers raising the dead. It certainly had the benefit of leaving no evidence as the ashes would be carried off and what evidence there was would be buried by the sands. 

''Another succesful ambush," came the accented voice of the Nizari captain. Still holding his waterskin, Hrongar turned to three Nizari walking to him. Their lead was a tall Redguard man, his headscarf opened to reveal his beard. Behind him walked his men, still covered. 

"That it was, Shadeen. Damn elves," Hrongar said, spitting on the sand. The Redguard gave him an amused look. "I know that you are trying to disrespect these elves but here in the desert, spitting is a sign of respect. You are wasting moisture on these Altmer, my friend." 

Hrongar raised a single blonde eyebrow. "Then how do you show them disrespect then?" 

Shadeen paused to think for a moment before glancing at a corpse and offered it a gesture with his finger. Hrongar would make not of that gesture and use it when he would get the opportunity. 

"I will make note of that," Hrongar promised. The Nizari captain laughed. "Be careful who you use that on. Anyone of my tribesmen might take offense to that." 

Hrongar acknowledged Shadeen's remark with a raise of his waterskin before drinking. Shadeen on the other hand march over to a corpse that was lying on its side. He kicked the fallen elf with his boots and took note of the lance sized hole on his neck. "Talented, whoever did this." Shadeen remarked. 

''I'm surprised his head is still connected," Hrongar noticed. Sure enough, the head was hanging on to his body by a thing piece of connected flesh. 

''Another one for the pile," Shadeen ordered. The Nizari behind him nodded and dragged the corpse away. The elven company had been emptied, the Nizari and his Nords subtracting the number of elves walking in the desert. 

"There's been far too many of these yellow scum here," Hrongar said, urging his horse forward. "Their patrols haven't left the hinterlands of Sentinel since we got here from the east. Maybe they are getting bored of dying in the cities so they wish to die in the desert?" 

Thanks to the White Gold Concordant, Hammerfell had been ceded to the Altmer who gleefully tried to take their prize, not knowing that they were set to get a land of scorpions. The Redguards did not take the annexation lightly and fought hard. Anything east of Skaven was practically free, the city itself having been retaken after the Redguards found an exploit in the defenses, thanks to some new information supposedly.

Shadeem glanced at him curiously. "Are you getting bored of the desert?" 

''Until my contract with your chief is over, we are going nowhere save hitting the elves," Hrongar said. "I hear Hegathe is paying handsomely for riders."

The plan was to make way towards Hegathe, the free remaining city of the Redguards in the western coast. As they would travel from the border, they would take up mercenary work for anyone that needed heavy cavalry or harass whatever Dominion presence there was. Currently, he was hired by the Nizari as they lacked cavalry. 

''A new day dawns for Hammerfell, now that the Crowns and Forebears have united as our mystics foretold," Shadeem said reverently. "Soon, we shall join our brethren and free Hammerfell from this menace,"

''First, we ought to find out what these merry bastards are doing here," pointed Hrongar. "They rarely brave the sands, don't they?" 

Sure enough, travelling out into the desert was a dangerous affair. If the Nizaris wouldn't fall on Thalmor patrols, the myriad of other desert tribes, the Decianus Legion, or the ordinary Redguard armies would.

"Perhaps their captain would have an answer," Shadeem spoke up as he made way to the fallen Altmer captain, his back propped against a rockwall. He knelt as he reached into the elf's armor, seemingly trying to pick something out. It would seem he found out as he pulled out a letter. Hrongar urged Cyrus forward and he looked down at Shadeem who silently read the letter. He held it out to Hrongar who quickly scanned it. 

There letter was innocuous, the usual order papers for the troupe to march to. But the destination written on the paper was something to take note of. 

''Volenfell?" Hrongar said with disbelief. "What would they do in Volenfell?" 

Shadeem looked contemplative. "Perhaps our chief might know more? I have heard tell of legends about Volenfell and supposed treasure there." 

"Then let's take this to him," nodded Hrongar, pocketing the letter. "I'm getting hungry too. I could use some food." 

''I shall see you back at camp then," Shadeem nodded as he turned. Hrongar moved to signal his men to leave but he stopped. 

"Wouldn't you need a horse?" Hrongar asked. At that, Shadeem smiled wryly, patting on a pick in his belt. Hrongar found it curious as there were no mountains to break or ice to tear open in the desert. 

"We have our ways," Shadeem said mysteriously. 

Hrongar shrugged and signalled his riders to march out and the did so with the swiftness of the wind. 

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The camp of the Nizari was a veritable tent city, a sea of red, blue, and green tents resting by a hidden lake. To any weary traveller, the tent city was a glimmering sapphire in the sea of sand. A place of rest and relexation. Sure enough, anyone could generally feel safe in the many tent cities of the desert tribes, protected as they were by fierce warriors. The Nizari were just among many who wandered the Alik'r, Their stock was Forebear but their Forebear ancestors were those who had also wandered in the sands of Yokuda and in here, they would wander as their ancestors did, living and preaching a zealous version of the Yokudan pantheon. 

Hrongar didn't pay much attention to such things however. At that time, he was tired and hungry. The guards seen him and his riders approach and were allowed entry. He already had a feeling that they had long been watched and were already allowed entrance. The Nizari had scouts who knew who and what entered their portion of the Alik'r. Those that they did not allow...well, they only had to ask the many dead elves that were now ash in the wind. 

He had long grown accustomed to the desert and knew its silence. The tent city on the other hand was noisy and lively like the cities on the coast. Yes it did not have the stone buildings and palaces of Sentinel or Hegathe or Taneth. It did however stand on a desert trading route which made the tribe rich. Brightly colored tents and pavilions stood on the sand, music and laughter echoing around. Hrongar and his Nords rode past a tent where men and women sat on rugs, chatting away with one hand on a curious pipe connected to a smoking glass vessel, nearby were glass cups smelling faintly of a strong bitter drink or another drink Hrongar could recognize as tea. 

Hrongar hadn't really had the time to partake in any of the customs of the locals. They were in war after all and they still had to travel to Hegathe. Perhaps once the war was over, he could pick up a few things to take home. He smiled. Freydis and him had always wanted to travel the world. Perhaps bringing along chestfuls of goods from Hammerfell and Cyrodiil would be enough to calm his wife's rage once he returned. 

He knew that he was making a decision that would surely anger Freydis. He had promised to return after all. But after seeing and living through the tender mercy of the Thalmor in Cyrodiil...he...he just had to go and fight them. Duty all but demanded it of him. 

He still remembered discovering that barn with Balgruuf, the one with the burnt villagers. They passed through ruins and saw the only remaining building left, a half ashen barn. He was the one who opened the doors with his sword. He was the first to walk in and smell the burnt flesh, the terror in their eyes. He was the first one to see that corpse, a woman covering the eyes of her crying child as they were burned. 

Hrongar imagined that but with Freydis and Lydia. The rage he felt at that sight all but demanded he oppose the Thalmor and the Dominion with every fiber of his being, for as long as they could be opposed. 

And that was why he and his men were here, the ones who saw the Dominion for what it was. A regime of murderers and killers donning black and gold, their fairness hiding behind monsters who saw them not as living beings but as cattle to slaughter. 

Pure and utterly evil.

Hrongar shook his thoughts as he broke off from his riders. They were to head into their own tents, generously given to them by the Nizari. They earned their pay and rest. He on the other hand rode silently for the biggest pavilion in the settlement. Richly dressed Nizari guarded both flanks, gold-hilts on their swords, green sashes around their wait. Before, they had eyed him with suspicion. Now, they were a bit more welcoming but Hrongar could feel some wariness on them. Halting before the entrance, he took off his helmet and held it at his side. 

"I need to see your chief. I have something he needs to see," he declared. 

''He is inside with his wife. You will have to wait, Nord," the guard said gruffly. It did not take him a moment to understand what he was trying to say. And for a moment, he could make out the sound of moaning coming from the insides. 

"I will wait, then," Hrongar offered, not exactly eager to see that. 

''You and Shadeem returned so soon, he was not expecting it." the same guard revealed. He raised an eyebrow. "Shadeem is here?" 

"Right behind you," Shadeem answered out of nowhere. Hrongar turned swiftly, his eyes meeting Shadeem. Disbelief went on his face. 

"How in Shor's name did you get here so fast?" he demanded. The Redguard laughed, patting at his side. 

"I have my ways," he said mysteriously. 

Not a moment later, the tent flaps opened slightly as an older Redguard man poked his head out. "The Chief will see you now," the man said. At that, the guards hefted their spears aside and finally, Hrongar walked in, Shadeem right behind him. 

The insides of the tent was decorated tastefully, to Hrongar's eyes. There were rugs all around and pillows and cushions for people to relax on. There were candles and oil lamps around, giving the tent a refreshing and relaxing scent. It did little to hide the lingering scent of sex in the air. 

In the center lounged a large Redguard man. Though he was bald, a great beard was under his chin. "Greetings, my Nordic friend," the Redguard chief rumbled. "I've been told that you and Shadeem had something to show me?" 

Hrongar took the letter out of his person and gave it to Shadeem, the letter he then gave to the chief who read it quickly. He hummed as he set it aside. "Volenfell...There are plenty of legends about that place. I have heard tell of a powerful magical artifact deep in its bowels. It was discovered in the days of my forefathers along time ago before the Alik'r reclaimed it." 

"And it's more than likely that the elves have found it again and are digging," Shadeem answered. "The elves that we killed, they were reinforcements for the site?" 

"But how were they able to find Volenfell? Don't the Nizari guard the roads?" Hrongar asked. At that, the Chief answered. "You are more than aware that there are forces of elves that are too large to ambush. And not every road is watched. There also the other tribes who have been bribed by the elves for passage." 

Hrongar frowned, his hand twitching. "I thought all the Redguards were united? Why would they welcome the High Elves passage?" 

''Gold has a measure of swaying people," Shadeem spoke up. "If not gold, other promises. Women, loot, grazing grounds. But worry not, they will be dealt with in time." 

''Indeed," chuckled the chief. "Now, the Forebears and the Crowns have set aside their differences under one king, one man. A new Ra'Gada will be unleashed. But now, it will not be for land but to cleanse the world of evil. For leaving their duties behind, those tribes will pay," 

Hrongar nodded along. He was aware of the Ra'Gada, the wave of warriors that softened Hammerfell before the rest of their kin arrived though he was lost on the significance of the new Ra'Gada they were so excited about. He cleared his throat. ''Was is to be done with the Elves in Volenfell?" 

The chef hummed. "We will have to investigate them, see what they are attempting to do. Once we know what for certain, we shall pounce on them like jackals to deer. I do not know what business the elves are attempting in the ruins of Volenfell but I will make sure they will not profit from it." He then turned to Shadeem. "How soon can you and your men leave?" 

Shadeem straightened. "We will have to rest for awhile. We've been out in the desert for a week. They will need some time to rest and see their families."

"I will allow them a night's rest then tomorrow, they will have to move," the chief declared. Turning to Hrongar, he asked the same question. 

"My Nords and I are ready as soon as they can rest as well." Hrongar answered. ''Our horses need food and water too. They've been out for too long." 

''Very well then," replied the chief. "A night, then you must leave. I have a feeling in my stomach that whatever the elves are attempting, it is up to no good." 

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[spoiler=Recommended OST: Auroran Golden Eagle]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0euHPT3cXk[/spoiler]

Deep in the Alik'r and surrounded by the remnants of a civilization long dead, the noise of industry echoed with the desert wind. Overlooking a dig site, a solitary High Elf in black and gold robes smiled as he watched wood elf and khaljit workers pick and dig the stone and sand. His hand rested on a nearby table, a paper with drawings on it. 

Said drawings revealed designs, of Dwemer make. 

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A/N: SPREAD YOUR WINGS, AURORAN GOLDEN EAGLE.