The Equestrian Bloodmoon: Untold Events

Internal Conflicts of Cyrodiil

Chapter Eight: Rebellions in the Second Century of the Fourth Era

It came as a surprise when Janus Ollanius, then a respected captain of the Imperial Legion, took control of Fort Istirus, right under the watchful eye of House Mortus. He, with his band of brigands who once called themselves respectable legionnaires, launched numerous raids against caravans and civilian travelers. They numbered twenty at the most, and Count Hassildor dispatched his most trusted men to put an end to the blight upon Imperial honor. To their credit, it took them a mere three days to reach their destination, but found the banner of House Tullius waving from a ruined bulwark.

The esteemed General Marcus Tullius, along with his sons and grandsons, had been on a recruiting mission for County Kvatch's garrison, which had been woefully undermanned after an outbreak of bloody pox. Not counting those of gentle birth, they had forty-five men, and such a battle group warranted only a single commander. Captain Antonius Tullius, who gained fame for the liberation of three Imperial colonies in Black Marsh a mere ten years prior, gave lieutenancy to his twin sons, Reman and Uriel, sure they would live up to the past Emperors for whom they were named.

Together, the trio led their warriors into a battle that demonstrated precisely why the Great Houses and their continued existence are vital to the Empire.

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It was warm, uncomfortably so, but Reman bit his tongue and looked as stern as he could. He was fifteen, and some of his troops were old enough to be his father, but they looked to him as though he were Martin Septim. He had ten men at his disposal, and had left his horse with his grandfather, sure the roan stallion would be a dead giveaway in the spring's bright colors.

“I've no need to tell you how important it is we succeed this day,” he said, taking note of his standard bearer's solemn expression. That must have unnerved some of them, with the blank white and glaring crimson of a blank Tullius crest. It meant he was too young to have led any battles, or seen any bloodshed beyond his proving or the occasional bandit raid. “My brother will be attacking from the north, and my father will be taking the main gate, which leaves us the southern flank.”

Not that a ruined fort had much in the way of predictable layouts, but if it would reassure the peasants, then he was all for it. He waved his men forward, keeping low to avoid as much detection as possible; their clothing, even their armor, was muted by soot and soil to camouflage them under the forest's dense canopy. They were a quarter of a furlong from the fort, and could see a pair of bow-wielding sentries.

There was the sound of a horn as Captain Antonius Tullius charged form the shadows.

“For Kvatch and the Empire!” Reman shouted as two of his men loosed arrows at the guards. Years of hunting had honed their marksmanship, and their targets fell from the ramparts, slain before they could strike back. Reman's battle group crossed the distance without incident, though Ollanius's heavy infantry crashed against his father's troops, and cut a swath through them serious enough to warrant Uriel turning his men toward that theater.

Reman leaped over a small wall and thrust his blade into a waiting archer. He slammed his shield into another as his men crossed the threshold. The entirety of the treasonous bastards was no wedged firmly between two the two parties, and missing their only ranged units. Heavy armor or not, they would do poorly against such superior numbers, but sixteen men in steel plate could deal heavy damage to twenty-five in leather and furs, if one discounted the heavy armor worn by the three noblemen. Still, there was a risk either of his kin could die, and that was nothing he wanted.

He knew just what to do.

“Janus, your life is mine!”

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Summer Glade eyed herself in the mirror, from her teal mane to her orange coat. After posing for a few minutes, she decided that today was pretty good for her eighteenth birthday. Her friends would be over soon, and the party would begin. Her father, of course, did not approve of his only daughter hitting Cloudsdale's streets with her intended destination being the local nightclub. He had relented only after his wife set the curfew at ten, which gave them plenty of time with the house to themselves.

“Just don't come back pregnant,” the major said, taking off his uniform as he finally allowed himself to unwind. He reclined into the sofa and sighed, tired from his day, but not as exhausted as he'd been. “And take a cab home.”

“Right, Dad,” Glade replied, hugging his neck as she passed. He was being uncharacteristically nice, but she attributed it to his expectation of sex, as much as she didn't want to think about her parents being intimate.

“Have fun, sweetie,” her mother said with a wave, smiling as she watched her daughter join her friends.