A soft rain pattered down onto Torhild's light blond, nearly white hair, on a cool, gray, and drizzly morning in the lush forested south of the Rift just a few miles north of the Cyrodiil border. Torhild brushed a lock of wet hair away from her face, that's left side was covered in a light blue war paint. The right side of her face remained unpainted however, leaving her smooth light skin exposed. Her pale blue eyes stared intensely down through the forested hill she was currently kneeling on, and observed the vast column of Imperial soldiers marching on the road below her. On the road, marched three Imperial legions heading north into Skyrim to reinforce the Imperial garrison of Skyrim and help them suppress the ongoing Stormcloak rebellion. The army numbered some fifteen thousand legionaries, each legionary carried a large rectangular shield, or scutum, painted bright red with the Imperial crest adorned on it, armored in heavy steel armor and helmet, and carried either a short or mid-length stabbing sword as a primary weapon. Along with the legionaries marched eight thousand supporting auxiliary troops, which ranged in make-up from light infantry, to cavalry, to archers. A combined force of some twenty-three thousand additional Imperial soldiers were arriving in Skyrim to help in the putting down of the Stormcloak rebellion. Torhild however, had other plans for the arriving legions.
Torhild watched and listened to the surprisingly loud ruckus created as the thousands of heavily armed and armored Imperial soldiers passed by where she knelt concealed at the top of the forested hill to their left. She observed the soldiers marching precisely to the drum cadences that the drummers drummed out, such discipline. Torhild smirked and thought to herself, these Imperial dogs might be able to march well, but that wont save them from the hell that I will unleash upon them. Off too her left, Torhild's long time friend, second in command, and leader of her all female personal guard, Vigdis, crept out of the shadows the trees cast onto the ground and up to her side. Vigdis, was a fiery Nord women, with long red hair, green eyes, a short temper, a love of battle as well as drink, and a body that would make any man desire her. Her physical beauty, to the dismay of her opponents, would often mask the fact that she was indeed a great Nord warrior, and the many scares she had on her body proved just how many battles she had been in. Although, for one too see most of those scares they would have to be one of the lucky few she would choose to take to the bedroom and lay with.
Vigdis spoke quietly and deliberately, yet was not able to mask the excitement in her voice, "My lady, all of our warriors are in position and ready to start the attack. Once you give the signal we will unleash the fury of the true sons and daughters of Skyrim on these damned Imperial dogs." The last few words Vigdis spat out with noticeable contempt in her voice towards the Imperials.
"Good." Torhild whispered back with venom in her voice, "These Imperial bastards dare to march up from Cyrodiil, and defile our sacred fatherland with their presence? Well, now they will pay for this treachery with their pitiful worthless lives! Talos help me, I will make them all pay with their lives and send them all to oblivion!" Torhild stopped speaking for a moment, took a breath to calm herself, and then continued. "Vigdis, are you ready to spill the blood of these Imperial bastards and take one more step towards freeing Skyrim of the Imperial yoke?" Vigdis flashed a cruel smile as an affirmative response.
Torhild smiled back at her friend and battle sister, she felt the adrenaline begin to surge into her system in the anticipation of the coming battle. She took one last look down from her concealed position at the unsuspecting column of Imperial soldiers. Satisfied that the column was fully into the kill zone, Torhild slowly raised her right arm up into the air, signaling for the Stormcloak archers that were hidden in the woods to her left and right to notch arrows, and draw their bows. Three...two...one... Torhild thought, and then brought her right arm downwards in a rapid, vertical, cutting motion signaling the archers to loose their arrows. The air around her filled with the twangs of hundreds of archers loosing their arrows at nearly the same time.
Hundreds of arrows whistled out from the forest along the Imperial left, and into the ranks of marching legionaries. Most of the arrows either harmlessly struck the ground, shields of the legionaries, or bounced off of their heavy armor. However, some found soft flesh too bite into or weak points in armor to punch through. Those legionnaires unlucky enough to be struck by arrows and have them penetrate into their bodies let out cries of agony and dropped wounded to the ground. Few would be lucky enough to die quickly outright from arrow wounds, most would have to wait for their misery to be ended by other means. Imperial officers and NCO's barked out orders to get the soldiers facing the direction of their attackers and present their shields into a protective wall against the arrow fire. The legionaries responded slowly however in shock at the fierce barrage of arrow fire they were suddenly under. Adding to the slowness of their response was the horrifying sight of seeing their comrades drop to the ground screaming in pain from arrow wounds, and the fact, that with the exception of some NCO's, the men in these legions were all green having never seen combat before. Finally after what took far too long to suit the Imperial officers and noncoms the legionaries were able to get their act together and present a protective wall of shields towards their attackers that they could take cover behind. The legionaries might now be safe from the Stormcloak arrow fire, but their view of what would be coming at them was obstructed. Torhild, had been waiting for this, and clapped her hands together with glee as the Imperials formed up their protective shield wall.
"Ha!" Torhild cried, "These Imperial dogs are far too predictable. Vigdis, my battle sister, give the order to have the pitch balls set ablaze and rolled down onto these Imperial sons of whores! Let us see how they like being crushed by burning balls of death, and having their precious formations broken apart! By Talos! we have them now!"
Complying Vigdis shouted to a signal bearer to give the signal to light the pitch balls and roll them down into the ranks of the Imperials. The signal bearers waved their flags passing the order down the line. Following the orders, Stormcloak warriors set the balls ablaze with torches, and used spear shafts to push them down the hill into the tightly packed Imperials. Taking cover behind their shields, for protection from the arrow fire, the Imperials were easy targets for the large, rolling, fiery balls of death. Seeing the flaming balls rolling down towards them, Imperial officers and noncoms who did not have their vision obstructed by large shields, screamed for their soldiers to get out of the way, but it was too late. The balls smashed into the Imperials crashing through ranks of men, knocking dozens of Imperials onto the ground apiece, setting some of the pour souls on fire causing them to wither on the ground in pain, and outright crushing others to death. Chaos consumed the Imperial column as their formations and discipline collapsed under of the assault of arrows and flaming balls of death. Some Imperials completely panic stricken threw down their weapons, turned, and ran to try and get away from the chaos. They made easy targets for Stormcloak marksmen, who unlike the other archers, took aimed shots at the Imperials.
Looking at the calamity unfolding below Torhild smiled ferociously. This is what she had hoped for, mass chaos, and the breakdown of Imperial discipline and organization. She may have only had around half the numbers of the Imperial army, but with these advantages Torhild was confident in victory. In one fluid motion Torhild jumped to her feet and drew her skyforge steel blade, that had been a gift too her from her father, from its scabbard at her side and lifted it high above her head. To her left and right the thousands of Stormcloak warriors Torhild commanded rose up from their positions, just as their commander had done, and assembled together in a line preparing for the charge down into the Imperials. The Stormcloak warriors violently began clanging their weapons and shields together, shouting war cries, curses towards the Imperials, and oaths of honor towards the heavens all in an effort too work themselves up into a state of frenzy for the coming fight.
"For Skyrim!" Torhild shouted at the top of her lungs and charged down the hill towards the Imperials with the intensity of an icewolf pouncing upon its unsuspecting pray. A thunderous roar, as thousands of stormcloaks echoed her cry, "For Skyrim!" erupted from the woods to the Imperials left, chilling the Imperial soldiers to the bones. What was even more chilling for the Imperials though, was seeing the thousands of angry and bloodthirsty Stormcloak warriors pour wildly out of the woods and down towards them. The Stormcloaks crashed down upon the Imperials like a wave from the ocean crashing onto rocks along a beach. Torhild was the first Stormcloak to make contact, knocking a legionary off his feat with the force she dealt onto him when she crashed into his shield, and stabbed a second shocked looking legionary in his unprotected groin. The legionary let out a high pitched squeal and crumpled to the ground. The roar of battle was deafening, as thousands of heavily armed and armored soldiers fought against each other with every ounce of strength that they had. The Stormcloaks ferociously trying to hack down and brutally slay every Imperial that they could, and the Imperials desperately trying to hold back the Stormcloak on slot. Bodies began to quickly pile up, and the ground that was already made slippery by rainfall was only becoming more slick from the gore that was being spilled upon it. The Imperials began to disintegrate away under the Stormcloak assault.
Torhild slashed right with her sword, relieving a legionary of his head. Hot blood spurted across her face as the legionary collapsed dead to the ground. Torhild let out an almost orgasmic cry of glee as the imperial's blood splashed across her face. The sensation of her enemies hot blood splattering onto her face just further encouraged Torhild to continue to kill as many Imperials as she could, and as rapidly as possible. Quickly looking for her next victim she targeted a legionary fighting a winning battle with a lightly armored Stormcloak. The Stormcloak, having only a hand axe and no shield was at a distinct disadvantage in the fight, and would be quickly slain be the legionary if Torhild didn't intervene. Transferring her sword from her right hand into her left, Torhild drew her dagger and in one fluid motion stepped behind the legionary and sliced his throat open with her dagger. The legionary dropped his sword and shield and reached for his neck as he fell to the ground. Torhild sheathed her dagger, and using her left arm reached around and pulled the legionaries head back before he hit the ground causing him to emit a disturbing gurgling sound from his wound and as well as additional spurts of blood from the deep slash across his neck. Slapped her right hand across the wound bathing it in the hot blood of the legionary, she took her blood soaked hand and proceeded to smear it across her face. Only then did she allow the lifeless corpse of the legionary to crumple to the ground. The Stormcloak that she had saved nodded a quick thanks to her and hurried back into the fray unfazed by nearly having been killed.
Torhild felt a glowing sensation deep within her loins, almost as if she was with a man, she was in a state of pure blood lust. Preparing to transfer her sword back into her right hand, out of the corner of her eye she spotted an Imperial centurion charging at her from her left. The Imperial was tall and formidable looking, clad in his mail armor, horizontally crested helm, and emitting a savage war cry, but Torhild was not phased for a second. She grabbed a javelin logged in the stomach of a dying legionary at her feet, yanked it free of him, and hurled it at the oncoming centurion. The javelin flew true, smashing dead center into the centurion's face with such force it knocked him backwards off his feet and sent his shield flying out of his hand. Torhild smiled savagely at the brutal end the foolish centurion had met, in her mind hoping that he didn't die to quickly. It was then that she realized the legionary that she had pulled the javelin free from was lightly holding onto her leg. Torhild looked down at the dying legionary, his face had gone pale, his eyes were glazing over, and blood flowed from his mouth and nose, but yet he still clung to life. The legionary was looking up at her, as if he was trying to ask her to put him out of his misery. Hate surged through Torhild's veins, and she shook her leg free from his grasp and proceeded to stomp his face in with her iron plated boot, she felt the legionaries skull shatter under her assault. Looking up from the now dead legionary she let out a blood curdling war cry and charged back into the thick of the fighting butchering many more Imperials without remorse or mercy.
The battle raged on for hours, the light drizzle that had been going on at the beginning of the battle had turned into a down pour by the afternoon. The combination of heavy rain, blood, and spilled innards had turned the battle field into a slippery mess adding just one more layer of misery to the battle. The shrill cries of the dying filled the air to the point that they were easily audible over the crash of steel and war cries that also filled the air. Throughout the coarse of the battle there were pauses in the fighting as the Stormcloaks would break contact with the Imperials, withdraw into the woods and attack at another point along the Imperial column. Torhild simply did not have enough warriors to attack along the entire length of the Imperial Army at the same time, so she had to destroy it in segments. At no point, however, did the Imperials ever obtain the upper hand in the fighting, and by nightfall the majority of the Imperials lay either dead or dying on the rain, mud, and blood drenched field. Those Imperials who were lucky enough to escape from the battlefield retreated south towards the safety of Cyrodiil. Three entire legions had been destroyed that day by Torhild and her army.
As the last remnants daylight rapidly faded away Torhild stood in the middle of one of the many killing fields that the battlefield was comprised of. Hundreds upon hundreds of dead and dying Imperials and Stormcloaks lay at her feet. Torhild stood some five foot, ten inches tall and was clad in chainmail armor, she looked like a true nord heroine to the warriors under her command. The unrelenting rain had washed the blood of numerous Imperials off of her, much to her displeasure, she would have preferred to remained covered in it until she was able to bathe again. Torhild remained their, looking at the field of death and watching her warriors sift through the bodies to find wounded comrades, and finish off dying Imperials. No mercy would be shown to the Imperial dogs. A small smile crept across her beautiful, yet fierce, face as she thought about all of the true Nords that had had the pleasure of going to Sovngarde this day, and of the Imperial bastards that had been sent to Oblivion. While Torhild was lost in her thoughts, Vigdis; silently stepped over the bloody, battered, and mutilated bodies of the fallen making her way over towards Torhild.
"You have won a great victory for Skyrim today Torhild." Vigdis said with pride filling her voice as she closed the distance between her and Torhild. Torhild, hearing the voice of her beloved friend turned towards Vigdis grinning. Vigdis went on, "They will sing of this victory for countless years in mead halls all across Skyrim, and surely it is being sung about even now by our glorious dead brothers and sisters in Sovngarde!"
Torhild's cheeks flushed as her dear friend praised her, but the embarrassment and pride that had shown on her face moments before turned to deep concern as she noticed that Vigdis was covering a wound to her abdomen with her left hand and had a slight limp to her step.
Trying to hide the concern in her voice Torhild spoke, "My dear sister, you are wounded! what happened?"
"It's nothing, just a lucky blow landed by one of those damned legionaries while I was busy severing the head off of one of his comrades. Heh, the legionary that stabbed me met a much more painful end then his friend did." Vigdis replied with a beaming smile on her face.
To Vigdis, battle wounds were marks of prestige and accomplishment and so getting them didn't bother her in the least, in fact she felt more successful in battle when she did receive them. It meant that she had been right in the thick of the fighting and had achieved much glory, and spilled the blood of many enemies. Torhild, on the other hand, despite her love of battle did not feel the same way, and she tried to keep her smooth skin as scar free as possible. That said, she was one of the fiercest warriors in the whole of the Stormcloak army and never shied away from the heat of battle for fear of getting wounded or even killed.
"Good" stated Torhild. "Now, has anyone managed to find the son of a whore that lead this damned Imperial army into our sacred lands? I've looked for the bastard myself, but have yet to find him amongst all of his dead fellow Imperial dogs. By Talos, we slaughtered so many Imperials here today!"
"Actually," Vigdis responded "that is what I have come to tell you my lady. The bastards body was found disemboweled under a dead horse. It looks as though he met his sorry end by a slash from a two-handed axe" Both Vigdis and Torhild broke out laughing, trying to imagine the scene of the general having his innards spilled out onto the ground due to a blow from a battleaxe.
"Serves him right! I hope he suffered for a long while before death took him." Torhild snorted. Then her voice shifted to a icy tone as she continued, "Now, I want his head cut off, put into a basket, with his manhood shoved into his mouth, and sent too Solitude. I want that bastard Tullius, and that milk drinking whore Elisif too see what has happened to the soldiers their petty emperor sent here to reinforce them. Perhaps, if they have any sense, they will decide to do themselves a favor and leave Skyrim upon seeing my gift to them"
"It will be done my lady." After a moments pause Vigdis chuckled and added, "It's a nice touch having the manhood of their general shoved into his mouth too. I'm not sure how you think of these things Torhild, but by Talos I'm glad that you do. It should give those milk drinkers in Solitude a startle at any rate. If we are lucky maybe it will even cause a couple of them to faint." With that, Vigdis turned and marched off to carry out Torhild's orders.
Torhild watched as Vigdis made her way out of sight to presumably carry out her orders and thought to herself how lucky she was to have a friend like Vigdis. She also admired how well Vigdis appeared to mask the pain she was obviously in. Her thoughts turned away from Vigdis and back to herself. She was tired, hungry, and sore from battle and would very much like to retire to camp and rest. After one last glance around, the now dark, battlefield Torhild began to make her way slowly back to camp. Come morning she would rise early to help her warriors go about the process of decapitating every dead Imperial that still had their head attached to their body and piling the heads up as a warning. She would also help in the burying of her dead, a very important task and one that she regretted would have to be put off until tomorrow. It was of great importance to Torhild that her honored dead received a proper burial and goodbye, and she would not break camp and move away from the battlefield until that task had been accomplished.
**********************
Torhild sat in her dimly lit tent listening to the rain pouring down outside. The tent she sat in was fairly plain and simple, it had a bedroll for her to sleep in, and a desk and chair for her to sit, work, and eat at. The idea of living in luxury while her warriors slept on the ground did not abide well with Torhild, so she refused the luxuries many generals had for themselves while in the field. Instead she choose to live the way her warriors did for the most part. She was exhausted both mentally and physically from the days battle, but yet she forced herself to remain awake so that she could finish one last task before turning into for a night of well earned sleep. She reached her arms up above her head stretching and producing a long yawn, after which she reached down into the bag by her desk and withdrew a sheet of parchment to write a letter upon. She stared down at the blank parchment for sometime composing the letter she was about to write mentally, finally she dipped her quill into her ink jar and began to scratch away on the parchment.
Father,
I wish to inform you that today my army and I met the Imperials on the glorious field of battle and utterly defeated them. We defeated three entire legions and their auxiliary! Perhaps the next time the emperor decides to send more of his pathetic soldiers from Cyrodiil to try and aid in the oppression of us sons and daughters of Skyrim he will think twice of it. Or, perhaps just not march them up through the Rift, though I would be disappointed by this since I love fighting the Imperials. Unfortunately, despite crushing the Imperials I lost many good warriors today, and I fear that I will have to double down on my recruitment efforts to just replace my losses in a timely manner. Though the Rift has sided with us, it is still full of many milk drinkers that support the Empire, as well as a large number of scum suckers that I would not trust to guard my luggage let alone fight next to me in glorious battle, and thus my pool of warriors to recruit from is not as large as I would like it to be. Though I'm sure you already know this. Speaking of the Rift, since the last letter I sent to you I have heard reports that a dark elf camp has been established somewhere to the north of Riften. It makes my blood boil that this filth is coming into the Rift, it's bad enough that they have a foothold in Eastmarch, but I vow to not let the same happen here in the Rift. I will use whatever means necessary to convince them that I wont welcome their kind into territory under my protection. Vigdis has asked me to allow her to take a raiding party to find this dark elf camp and wipe it off the face of Skyrim, but as much as it would please me to do this I am not eager to send some of my warriors off to fight dark elf filth when I might need them to fight against the Imperials and milk drinkers. I hope that you approve of this coarse of action? I have heard that Jarl Balgruuf has yet to pick a side in the war, is this true? It angers me that a man that is so indecisive can be the Jarl of a hold as large and as wealthy as Whiterun. If it is true that he has yet to choose a side, maybe I will need to travel to Whiterun and have a little talk with him and personally convince him to join the cause for a free Skyrim. One last thing, I think you would like to know that I have had the head of the general that commanded the Imperial army I defeated cut off and put in a basket and sent to Solitude as a gift for Tullius and Elisif, oh and his man hood has been placed into his own mouth. That is all the news from my front, I hope to hear from you soon father.
with love,
Torhild
Torhild looked the letter over, and nodding with satisfaction folded up the parchment, placed it into an envelope, and sealed it shut. She would send the letter to her father tomorrow morning, waiting a few more hours for it to get sent wouldn't hurt she thought to herself. Getting up from her desk, Torhild blew out the candles that illuminating her tent and stumbled over to her bedroll and rolled herself up in it. She listened to the rain pattering against the outside of her tent, which she found very relaxing, and thought about the days battle, but slowly she drifted off too sleep. However, not before she wished several times that she had the warm comfort of a strong man next to her. Torhild was a very strong and fiercely independent women that had taken care of herself from a young age, but in the cold, dark, loneliness of the night, she did long for a lovers companionship. Though she would deny it firmly if anyone accused her of desiring a lover.
*************************
Jarl Elisif sat slouched in her chair bored at court inside the Blue Palace in Solitude. She sat listening to General Tullius, Legate Rikke, Captain Aldis, and several other senior Imperial officers discussing the best way to defend the city should the Stormcloaks decide to attack. The room they were in was poorly lit, stuffy, and filled with tobacco smoke as Imperial officers smoked their pipes they seemed to enjoy so much. Elisif found the aroma of the smoke slightly nauseating, and wondered to herself how the Imperials could stand it. Normally Elisif had no interest in military matters, and gladly let General Tullius conduct all said matters unmolested by her, but since they were discussing the safety and defense of the city Elisif decided it would be best if she was at least present for the discussion. Now however, she was regretting that decision and wished only for the meeting to be over and for the Imperial officers to withdraw from the palace and go back to the castle where they normally resided. Elisif was hungry, having not eaten breakfast that morning and wished to dine, but the meeting would just not end due too General Tullius and Legate Rikke constantly going back and forth over whether or not if the city was to be attacked if the garrison should march out and meet the attackers head on or hide behind the cities walls. Legate Rikke, was of the strong opinion that should the city be attacked the defenders should march out and fight the Stormcloaks in open battle, General Tullius however was not convinced and had his mind set on staying behind the walls and forcing the Stormcloaks to fight a long and costly siege battle. Elisif, not that anyone would care she thought, liked Legate Rikke's idea better. She did not want a battle to actually be fought in the city. The idea of being trapped inside the city while Ulfric and his marauders lay siege to the city did not sit well with her at all, in fact the mere idea of it caused her to sweat at the brow.
"General," Legate Rikke said with a passion in her voice. "There is no honor in hiding behind the walls if we are attacked. If Ulfric wants a battle, then I say we march out and give him a battle. The legions of old would not hide behind city walls, they would march out and fight their enemies in open glorious battle, and I see no reason why we couldn't do the same. Sure..."
General Tullius cut her off, "Legate Rikke." he stated firmly. "If Ulfric and his rebels manage to be in a position to be able to launch an assault on Solitude, then it only goes to reason that we would be in no shape to march out and fight him in the open. If we are attacked here, we will hold the rebels at the walls until reinforcements arrive from Cyrodiil. Besides, this war will be over by winter anyways so I'm not sure why we are wasting our time arguing over this. The three additional legions coming up from the south will give us the strength we need to crush the traitor Ulfric in a matter of months. It is only a matter of time before they arrive, and when they do we will go on the offensive and end this damned war once and for all."
Legate Rikke frowned, but she knew better then to reply. General Tullius had made up his mind, and she was sure there was nothing she could say to change it. Also, at some point deep in the back of her mind she realized he had a point. If Ulfric was able to launch an attack on Solitude then that would mean that the legions had been defeated and would be in no shape to fight an open battle. It was at this point when Jarl Elisif, wishing to contribute something to the discussion, spoke up.
"General Tullius, if I may change the subject here briefly, have we found out whether or not Jarl Balgruuf will support us yet? I am very anxious as to whether or not he will remain loyal...my husband spoke highly of him so I do hope decides to remain loyal."
Tullius, slightly surprised that Elisif finally spoke up and said something replied, "No, the stubborn old bastard still says that he is, 'on the side of Whiterun.' Whatever in the hell that means." He shifted his gaze away from Elisif and towards Rikke and sarcastically added, "I thought you Nords were suppose to be a hardheaded and decisive bunch, not weak and indecisive. This Jarl Balgruuf is giving you bunch a bad name."
The other Imperial officers in the room quietly chuckled at Tullius' last remark, but Anger flashed across Rikke's face at the jest Tullius had just given her. Before she could respond to it however, a steel plate clad palace guard swiftly and noisily marched into the room carrying what appeared to be a sealed box of some sort. The guard stopped abruptly just shy of the table where all of the members of the meeting were sitting at.
"I apologize for the interruption my lords," the guard stated in a formal tone, "but we just received this... box and a message saying that it is urgent that the Jarl Elisif and General Tullius see the contents immediately. We received the box, from what appeared to be an Imperial envoy, but he didn't stick around long enough for the gate guards to question him thoroughly as to who he was and who sent the message. He just said it was urgent and concerned the war."
Jarl Elisif sat up strait in her chair, her curiosity had been peaked, and she motioned for the guard to come over and place the box down on the table in front of her. In Elisif's mind she raced through possible theories as too what the box contained thus continuing to build the anticipation she felt for opening the box and finding out what the contents were. The guard gently set the box down on the table in front of Elisif, gave a slight formal bow, and did a precise about face and marched out of the room. All the others that were in the room shifted their positions as too better see what was in the box when Jarl Elisif opened it. General Tullius went so far as to stand up from his seat at the Jarl's right and move to stand behind her. Elisif studied the box, it was plain brown, had two brass handles on the side, the Imperial crest was carved into the top of the box, and a simple brass latch keeping it shut. Elisif pulled the box a little bit closer to herself, with her anticipation building she worked the latch and opened it up. Inside the box was the severed and rotting head of General Publious Crassus, the commander of the army the emperor had dispatched to Skyrim to help put down the Stormcloak rebellion. Elisif was mortified at seeing the head, but when she realized what was stuffed into the general's mouth she let out a shrill shriek of horror and disgust, and with the speed of a startled rabbit she jumped up, and stormed out of the room towards a nearby balcony to get some fresh air and to prevent the military men and women in the room from seeing the tears that had begun to stream down from her eyes.
The room was in a stunned silence, hardly any of the Imperial officers had noticed Jarl Elisif's quick retreat from the room instead they all gathered around where the box was sat staring in a stunned silence at the grotesque content of the box. General Tullius was the first to notice that along with the head there was also a note in the box. He reached down into the box, careful to avoid touching the head with his bare hand and procured the note. Tullius furrowed his brow decided whether or not he should read the note aloud, finally deciding that he should. He cleared his throat loudly, causing everyone in the room to look up at him and began to read.
I hope that you enjoy your gift Jarl Elisif and General Tullius. It took quiet some effort to find your general amongst your countless dead that littered the battlefield. If you do not leave Skyrim, it will soon be your heads in boxes and it will be your emperor that receives them. With regards, the Palewolf.
Tullius looked up from the note and spoke, "Who in the oblivion is this Palewolf barbarian, and how in the Emperor's name did he destroy three legions?"
Rikke, looked around at the other officers in the room and concluded that none of them would, or could answer the general's questions, thus she decided that it fell upon her to answer the generals question. Speaking in a voice much less fiery then her usual self she spoke, "General, the Palewolf is the commander of the Stormcloak army in the Rift. We... we dont really know all that much about her, other then she is a strong warrior, a women, and apparently a competent general."
"Well does this Palewolf women have an actual name, or is that really her name? You Nords do seem to have a tendency to name your children strange things so it wouldn't surprise me if this was her actual name." Tullius snapped.
"We dont know, sir." Rikke responded calmly. "Up until this point our intelligence assets have not been focusing that much on the Stormcloak presence in the Rift, due to it being located quite far away from where we predict most of the fighting will take place. Sir, you yourself said we should focus our intelligence assets on rebel activity in the Pale, Eastmarch, and Whiterun, as that is where most of the fighting in this war is most likely to take place. Though now we know that was an unfortunate mistake." Rikke's voice trailed off.
"So I did, so I did." Tullius replied angry with himself that he didn't have more information available to him about this Palewolf, and that he could only blame himself for the lack of information. "By the emperor..." he muttered to himself. Tullius took a few moments to gather his thoughts, and then spoke again. "Legate Rikke, I wish for you to draft orders to be sent with all haste to the legates of the legions stationed in the Reach, Hjaalmarch, and Falkreath that they are immediately and personally to come to Solitude for war council. It seems that we will be needing to create a new strategy on riding Skyrim of this rebel scum, and I want all of the legions legates here so they dont misunderstand any of my orders. This war just got a lot more...complicated, and we cant afford to have legates not understanding orders."
"It shall be done General Tullius." Rikke replied. She then snapped to attention shot out a salute, turned, and marched out of the room to carry out her orders.
Tullius smiled to himself as Rikke left. He thought, Rikke may be a stubborn Nord women that doesn't fully understand all of the complexities that go into waging a successful war, but she does know how to follow orders. If only some of my other legates were as good as she was at following my orders, his thoughts drifting towards the legate in command of the legion stationed in the Reach. Dealing with that legate would have to wait though, Tullius concluded. First thing first, he needed a guard to dispose of this...box and he needed to return to the castle so he could study his maps and begin reformulating his campaign plans to rid Skyrim of these rebels now having to factor in the reinforcements from Cyrodiil he had been counting on arriving to bolster his strength were destroyed. It now seemed to him that the war probably wouldn't be over by winter, as he had thought it would be just a few minutes earlier, but would go on much longer lasting perhaps two or three full campaign seasons. The thought of this depressed the general.