Brynjolf casually walks into the mansion of the Dawning Eagle in Alinor with a scroll in hand. He walks through the mansion’s main hall and passes by several Doom Heralds standing guard throughout the mansion. Brynjolf enters the living room where he finds the Dawning Eagle sitting on a sofa looking at a giant painting depicting Queen Aryenn leading her Aldmeri Dominion.
“Aryenn Arana Aldmeri, the Queen of the first Aldmeri Dominion in the second era,” Brynjolf remarked pointing at the painting.
“You must be here to join your faithful concierge,” said the Dawning Eagle, not turning to Brynjolf and still looking at the painting.
“Not today. By the old law and old ways of Queen Aryenn’s champion, Corvus Rem challenges you to a duel. To settle the business the fair way.”
“You have a lot of nerve to speak of our ways that you know little off. Besides, a man of Corvus’ standing cannot issue such challenge.”
“He can. He obtained Ardorin’s Crest.”
“Really? From whom?”
“The surviving daughter of Fairimo Silinor.”
“Hmm. High Isle. And I’m familiar of that turncoat.”
“Turncoat and assassin, it matters not. She comes from a legitimate line who possessed and passed down Ardorin’s crest. And it’s all here, recorded history,” as Brynjolf puts the scroll beside the altmer. The Dawning Eagle picks up the scroll.
“And even if the challenge is blessed by a legitimate bearer of the crest, why would I accept this?” he said tossing the scroll to the side of the sofa.
“Because even your group have rules and without them…”
“We live with the animals.”
“Precisely.”
“Times are changing. A new era is dawning on Tamriel. New ideas, new laws, a new dominion.”
“Yet you will accept. Because even you are not immune to the law established by Ardorin and personally approved by Queen Aryenn. Unless you’re not afraid of facing Ardorin’s wrath?”
“And what exactly are Corvus’ terms?”
“A guarantee of victory and the permanent removal of the bounty placed by the Thalmor. And to leave him alone for good,” Brynjolf said. The Dawning Eagle, still skeptical about the proposal, stands up from the sofa and approaches and looks at the painting on the wall. Brynjolf casually sits on the sofa and picks up the scroll again. “Our history was littered with great figures filled with great achievements. Indoril Neravar, Tiber Septim, Martin Septim, even your Queen Aryenn. You can be among them as the one who brought Corvus Rem, the most feared man of Tamriel and no less by the Aldmeri Dominion, into the light. Your light. And just imagine how much glory you can gain from that act alone.” The Dawning Eagle briefly looks turns his head to his shoulder at Brynjolf before turning back the painting of Queen Aryenn. After looking at the painting, he turns back to the master thief.
“Noon, Firsthold, to discuss rules. You may go.”
“When I’m done. As his second, I want my Shadow Continental in Riften to be rebuilt, all under the Dominion’s expense.”
“Of course. I am impressed, master thief,” the altmer grinned. Brynjolf puts the scroll down and walks up to the Dawning Eagle.
“How you do anything is how you do everything. Now I’m done,” he said before proceeding to leave the room.
“I will miss you when you’re gone.”
“Shame the feeling’s not mutual,” Brynjolf said as he continued to walk.
“You don’t know, do you?”
“What is it?” as he stops and turns back to the Altmer.
“A dueler’s second, like his sponsor, either walks out with his champion or is buried beside him. Ardorin’s law,” the Dawning Eagle smugly said before turning back. Upon hearing this revelation, Brynjolf is caught off guard, but quickly accepts the gamble.
“So be it,” he muttered to himself.
(Music Soundtrack: Chess Club - YouTube)
The next day, Corvus arrives at Firsthold in Auridon as he walks to a giant balcony overlooking the sea. In the center of the balcony stands a table with the Thalmor Harbinger on the other side in the middle. On the right end of the table is Varyn, sitting on a chair on the side beside the main chair at the end of the right side and Brynjolf on the side beside the chair on the left side. Twelve metal cards lay at the two sides of the table, with six in each row. Corvus takes off his left gloves as he approaches the left side of the table. The Dawning Eagle and Kelurmend arrives as well just as Corvus shows Ardorin’s Seal to the Harbinger. The older altmer looks and gives Corvus a nod. Corvus puts his gloves back and sits down on the chair on the left side just as the Dawning Eagle take a seat as well, with the twelve cards in front of them.
“Under the old law, only one can survive. You both understand that?” the Thalmor Harbinger asked. Corvus and the Dawning Eagle both nods. “Very good. Rules. The challenged chooses first. Time?”
“Sunrise,” Lord Sauril said as flips a card in the second row, showing a number eight.
“Now,” Corvus said in return and flips a card in the first row, showing a number three.
“Sunrise,” the Harbinger declared. “Location?”
“You come here, thinking there is a way to escape all this? There is not. Cloudrest,” the Dawning Eagle taunted him as he flips a card in the second row again, showing a number four.
“Crystal Tower,” Corvus said as he flips a second card on the first row again, showing a number ten.
“Crystal Tower. Weapons?” the Harbinger asked.
“If you win, the Thalmor will honor the deal. The bounty on your head will be removed. We will leave you alone. But you won’t take it. Spells,” he taunted again as he flips a card in the first row, showing number fourteen.
“Crossbows,” Corvus declared as he flips a card on second row, showing number twenty-three.
“Dueling crossbows. Small onehanded crossbows, using body penetration bolts. Thirty paces. If both parties survive, each will approach at increments of ten paces until only one is left standing. Rules of engagement.
“No quarter,” Corvus said without hesitation.
“Do you know why you won’t take your freedom? Hmm?” the Dawning Eagle continues to taunt Corvus. “Because this is who you are, who you’ve always been. You are a killer. An orphan, plucked from the streets by a bunch of lowlife cutthroats and honed you into a knife. And it is the killing that gives you purpose. A man without purpose…is nothing. No quarter.”
“No quarter,” the Harbinger repeated. “If there is nothing else, then I will…”
“A nomination,” the Dawning Eagle declared, interrupting the harbinger. Corvus looks at the harbinger with confusion.
“As is his right,” the harbinger said. “Do you have a name?”
“Varyn,” the altmer said, leaning his head to where Varyn is sitting. The dunmer turns his head a little upon this.
“So be it. Sunrise, Crystal Tower, Dueling crossbows, no Quarter. Should Corvus Rem be victorious, the bounty placed by the Aldmeri Dominion will be permanently removed and the Thalmor will leave him be. And his second will have his Shadow Continental be rebuilt under the Dominion’s expense,” the Harbinger said. Corvus turns to Brynjolf upon hearing his part of the deal and the master thief shrugs. “Should Lord Sauril Highaire of the Dawning Eagle be victorious…”
“Corvus Rem will be dead. As will his second,” the Dawning Eagle smugly interrupted.
“Very well. Then I will see you all at sunrise. Failure to show up in time will result in forfeiture of the duel and immediate execution,” the Harbinger declared before leaving the balcony. Corvus soon stands up and proceeds to leave with Brynjolf.
“There is no Corvus. A happy husband with a happy life. There is only Corvus Rem, the killer.”
“And he’s going to kill you,” he coldly responded as he turns to the still sitting altmer before leaving. Corvus and Brynjolf leave the balcony. “Your hotel?”
“Yes, lad.”
“Always have an angle, like I remember.”
“Of course. Best find a haven before it begins,” Brynjolf said as he hands a small note to Corvus.
“I have to do something first.”
“Sooner, than later,” he said as he parted ways with Corvus.
“Won’t do it. You fight your own fight,” Varyn callously said to the altmer, still sitting in the chair.
“Is this not what you want? You kill him, you and your daughter will be free. No one will touch her. If you don’t, then she will suffer the consequences of your actions. This…is the choice I’m giving you,” the Dawning Eagle said without turning to the dunmer. Varyn gets up from his seat and walks away while tapping the floor with his sheathed sword.
Corvus enters a small chapel of the Eight Divines in the middle of the wild in Auridon, with a few people praying and sitting on the chairs. He approaches to the end of the chapel, with eight panels representing each Divines and eight shrines each. He approaches a shrine shaped like a star with a sphere in the center representing Arkay and prays in front of it for a moment. He turns around and sees Varyn sitting in the front right row, close to the isle. Corvus walks to the front row and sits on the left side, close to the isle as well.
“Varyn.”
“Corvus. Saying goodbyes?”
“Saying hello.”
“You think your wife can hear you?”
“No.”
“Then why bother?”
“Maybe I’m wrong.”
“The dead are gone. Only the living matter now. After my daughter was born, I wanted to leave this life. Of murder and stealing. I thought I did.”
“But you didn’t.”
“We’re damned… you and I.”
“On that we agree.”
“But not my daughter. If it’s between you or her, you’re going to die. And Sithis will finally have you.”
“I missed you Corvus. I miss our time together. It good to sit with a friend.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Corvus said as he stands up and leaves the church.
(Music soundtrack: Ambition and Worth - YouTube)
As evening falls, the Dawning Eagle walks into the Thalmor headquarters in Alinor at a fast pace. As he enters the building, he sees the harbinger in the hallway, walking somewhere, and quickly walks up to him.
“So this is how you choose to resolve the situation. A duel with the Sithis Incarnate. Failure will shake the foundation of the Aldmeri Dominion. And will turn Rem into a hero.
“Do not think a man of Rem’s standing would turn into such role. My victory will do the opposite,” the Dawning Eagle scoffed.
“Lord Sauril Highaire!” the Harbinger raised his voice as the Dawning Eagle stops and turns to him. “One’s ambition should not out exceed their own worth. You would do well to remember that” the Harbinger reminded him before walking away.
Corvus walks along the coast of Auridon and approaches a cave with a wooden door, guarded by a scrawny beggar. He presents the note given by Brynjolf earlier and the beggar unlocks the door. Corvus enters the cave and walks down a short passage lit with torches and enters a large room, filled with elven furniture. Corvus takes a seat on a bench by the wall. As he is waiting, he notices a circle on the floor next to the bench starting to glow. Suddenly, a portal appears on the circle and two people emerge. Brynjolf and King of Beggars walk out and approaches Corvus.
“Long time no see, Rem. Welcome, to the Resistance.”
“Long way from home, aren’t you?” Corvus greeted the orc with a smile, shaking his hand.
“Your little campaign against the elves inspired me. I’m branching out, spreading Lady Namira’s benevolence. How is your farewell tour?”
“Coming to an end.”
“So, it seems,” he said as he pulls out a new set of Corvus’ armor. “Your signature black leather armor, made with the best materials with the Brotherhood and Thieves Guild combined. Provides multitude of powerful enchantments including armor enhancement, stamina regeneration, speed increase, and blade damage fortification. I dare say it’s appropriate for all occasions such as weddings, funerals, Dominion duels. Afterall a man should look his when getting married. Or buried,” he said as he hands Corvus the new armor.
Lord Sauril looks over a model of the whole Summerset Isle and its cities in a large room of the headquarters, guarded by soldiers and Doom Heralds. As he is looking, Kelurmend approaches him from the side.
“Forgive me my lord, but this is madness.”
“Madness?”
“Trusting your life to a blind elf.”
“I have learned that there are three types of people in this world. Those who have something to live for, those who have something to die for, and those who have something to kill for. Corvus Rem is none of these. He is merely a ghost, searching for a burial ground. But the blind one, he is all three. Besides, my best mages enchanted those cards at Firsthold to take part of his essence upon touching them. With his essence in hands, nowhere is safe for him. With that in mind, something tells me he won’t make it to the duel by sunrise.”
“Understood, my lord…” the battlemage grinned before leaving. A female Thalmor mage in justiciar robes soon approaches.
“My lord, we have extracted Rem’s essence and enchanted them on the bounty posters. What is your order? And the bounty?”
“80000 gold. And distribute them all over Summerset and the rest of Tamriel. Let’s see if there are any eager people willing to come to Summerset and claim the prize.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Somewhere in Summerset, a cave filled with cultists worshipping a statue of Mehrunes’ Dagon. Some of them are wearing ornate daedric armors, sparring with each other with daedric weaponries. As they were going on with their business, an imperial rush into the main chamber, holding a large piece of paper.
“Brothers! Look! We got a contract!”
“A contract? Who is it on?” asked another cultist, who stood up from praying at the statue.
“Its Corvus Rem. The infamous assassin and thief of Tamriel. The Thalmor placed a bounty of 80000 gold on him.”
“Those elves are either insane or seriously desperate. Besides, he can be anywhere on Tamriel.”
“He’s here, in Summerset. Its not just a poster, but also map, showing where he is.”
“How is that possible?”
“Thalmor magic or whatever they’re using. With this, he has nowhere to go.”
“Brothers, get Dagon’s Fangs,” the cultist loudly declared upon hearing the information. Several cultists rush to a nearby weapon rack with daedric styled bows. They grab the bows from the rack and place them on a nearby table as they begin suiting up in armor. A few other cultists grab some crimson colored daedric arrows from the armory and places them near the bows on a table. One cultist takes a bow and looks ahead at a wooden dummy clad in orcish armor. He grabs and nocks a crimson daedric arrow onto the bow. As he releases the arrow onto the dummy, it creates a devasting blast of daedric fire, completely incinerating the dummy and the armor. The cultists turn to his comrade and nods.
“Perfect, brother.”
“Let’s get ourselves a bounty, brothers!” the other cultist loudly declared. Another member walks up and conjures a portal before he is quickly followed by several cultists into the swirling sphere.
Corvus puts on his newly given armor given by the King of Beggars. As he is examining his bracers, a beggar rushes into the chamber and approaches Brynjolf and the orc.
“My lord, your spies reported that there is a large bounty of 80000 gold placed on Corvus by the Thalmor. Not just that, they used some magic to be able to track Corvus on their map provided on the bounty posters!”
“And so it begins,” Brynjolf said calmly as he takes a sip of wine in a cup.
“I’m going to need a blade,” Corvus said, unconcerned by the development.
“And I thought you’d never ask,” the King said as he puts down a cup of wine on a table. He pulls out a small box flat box and opens the lid, revealing an ancient Blade of Woe. “The Blade of Woe from the second era.”
“How’d you get this?”
“Well, I know a guy who knows who stabbed a guy,” the orc said as Corvus grabs the blade and examines it. “Deadly enchantments include strong absorption of life and energy forces, including the magicka for those who are more... magic enthusiastic. Strong armor disintegration, long duration of silence against spellcasters and a strong enchantment that weakens all skill areas. And finally, it has over seventy enchantment charges. Suffice to say, it’s a ferocious fang of the Dread Father himself.”
“How close can you get me to the tower?”
“I can get you to a cave, south of Shimmerene, but you’ll have to make it the rest on foot or some way.”
“It’ll have to do,” Corvus said as he sheathed the blade. The orc leads Corvus and Brynjolf to a small another small passage that leads them into a small dock with a boat leading to an exit.
“Here we are gentlemen. Let’s sail,” he exclaimed as they get on the boat. The King of Beggars untangles the rope on the dock, and they set sail exiting the cave and into the waters. They sail southward between the archipelago of Firsthold and the rest of Summerset.
“When I advised you not to look back at the bottomless well, I didn’t think I’d get dragged down as well,” Brynjolf said as they’re sailing.
“It’ll be over after today,” Corvus responded with absolute certainty.
“When I was burying Nazir, I was torn about what to put on the gravestone. A few words to sum up his entire life? Who he was? Or a warrior of the sand?”
“Long live the king!” the King of Beggars exclaimed. “Had mine made years ago.”
“Modest,” Brynjolf responded.
“What did you end up choosing?” Corvus asked.
“Friend. Despite his years as an Alik’r warrior, an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood, and concierge of the Violet Rift, that’s what he was above all else. A friend,” Brynjolf said as they entered another cave and docked inside by another small dock.
“Farewell, Corvus Rem. And Godspeed,” the King said as he raises and extends his hand to Corvus.
“Thank you, King,” Corvus said as he shakes his hand and turns to Brynjolf.
“Corvus.”
“Brynjolf.”
“Sunrise is at six o three. Don’t be late for our sake, lad,” he said before Corvus steps out of the boat and onto the dock.
“Loving husband,” Corvus said as he turns back to Brynjolf and the King.
“Hmm?”
“That’s what I want on mine. Corvus. Loving Husband,” he responded and Brynjolf gives him small nod. Corvus walks to a pathway, leading him out of the cave.
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