Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

Chapter 419: Chapter XXXIX: Logistics And Summons



Three hours had passed since the two Dunmeri nobles managed to stop cursing their souls out and got to work bringing order back to the city, their remaining troops helping the civilians clean the place up while what little logistical staff they had brought went about setting up everyone with a warm meal.

The people looked stressed but not overly so, the city of Kragenmoor was used to raids like these, even if not in nearly the same numbers, with many of the citizens being at least somewhat trained in combat.

And by that I mean the barest of basics of training by elven standards.

That Almeril had them stay in reserve in case he fell both impressed and mildly irritated me. Guess I spent way too much time around Nords, most of whom would rather charge into a hail of arrows while half naked instead of sitting out the defense of their own home.

Cultural differences aside, a good seven thousand citizens still lived, a rather uncomfortable number when compared to its previous state as just under nine thousand but not nearly as bad as it could have been without my intervention.

Our military forces on the other hand... Well, they still existed?

The Redoran kept a strong garrison in the Stonefalls at all times, the vast majority of whom were stationed at Andrethis, the same city that reportedly got sacked mere days ago, yes. As for Kragenmoor, the previous garrison of five hundred professionals, also reinforced by three hundred retinue-level fighters, and another two hundred Sadras mercenaries of variable quality up to and including mages, was now thoroughly battered at a weak seven hundred strong.

A downright excellent showing against what was originally nearly five thousand Argonians but still devastating for any real counterattack.

It was a good thing then that Legate Furius barely lost a dozen men, and most of those were only maimed instead of outright killed, a problem I easily fixed. I found it quite funny how most of their actual issues came from the very common rocky outcroppings and uneven ground fucking with their horses and making it hard to maneuver instead of the literal invading army of lizard men.

My statistical musings were interrupted by a quartet of steps, the three house elves and legionary joining myself and my guards.

"Legate." I say without turning, my eyes still staring south "My lords."

The Indoril Redoran Sadras trio seem a bit flummoxed by my form of address and hesitate to respond, a bit of a shift in my mannerisms more than enough to stun them however briefly. "Sir." Furius, having no such compunctions, salutes "The surroundings of the city have been pacified, and as you ordered we had any elves still hiding out in the hills retreated to the city." "They weren't troubled by the fact you were legion?" My eyebrow raises, even if I still refuse

to turn.

"At first." Furius scoffs "But the priest boy here settled that." I hear the grin in his voice as he taps the Indoril on the shoulder, nearly doubling him over.

I nod along "Numbers?"

"Just under one and a half thousand." The Legate answers simply.

Almeril too adds "That should be most of them, though I admit I did not have much time to go through the local census logs before the siege took all of my attention."

"We will just have to hope those that managed to evade us will manage the same with any raiding party." I shrug, the results were already good anyway "How are the troops?"

Furius answers first, his enthusiasm clear "Eager and ready for another sally."

Sadras is next, still sounding a bit reticent of his recruitment "They are grumbling but the promise of loot and dead Argonians will settle them, for now."

Almeril speaks up last "My own forces are battered to the extreme but now that they had the time to heal and get a bit of rest their hearts burn for vengeance, even if I recommend a day or two more rest." He hesitates before speaking further "We have no confirmation of Andrethis but no force of this size could have gone through without ravaging it first."

My scrying spell ends "It is quite dead, I assure you." I finally turn, revealing the slowly receding glow in my eyes "The fort and everyone in it, all two thousand warriors and the accompanying five hundred support staff." Feeling a bit miffed by it all I add "They managed to hold out in their keep for a full six days, likely part of the reason so little of the Argonian host managed to besiege Kragenmoor."

Furius makes the sign of Arkay, Sadras hisses, Indoril bows his head, and the Redoran... well, his face turns utterly stony, not a hint of emotion to be seen to mundane eyes but an absolute torrent of fury to those who knew how to see.

The elf who fought dragons with no hesitation straightens his back, the fires of vengeance practically burning in his eyes as he ask a simple question "Orders?"

The two other Great House members give him bewildered looks but I ignore them and turn to Furius "No raiding parties are near us so you are to return to the caravan. A third of the supplies meant for Blacklight are to be redirected here alongside any volunteers willing to settle. The Fighters Guild mercenaries are to be offered triple rates if they accept taking over guard duty while the rest of us are at it. After that is done your light cavalry is to be our scouting force until further notice."

The Legate doesn't question, merely salutes and marches off.

"Sadras" I address the second elf who merely grunts in response "How many magi are there in the city?"

He hesitates for a moment before grumbling a bit to himself "A dozen or so, barely worth the title of adept at that." Seeing my outright dismissive look he quickly adds "My own magi are quite a bit more battle trained, even if our sole ordained expert got herself swarmed to death by suicidal lizards." He spits on the round.

Now that may actually be worth something "Any who willingly join us will be given lessons by myself." I offer, drawing a look of immediate greed from him "And who knows what other rewards might await if they prove they are not complete cowards and failures."

"I will round them up." He pointedly doesn't grunt this time "Lesson from an actual archmage will probably make even the laziest of the little shits get their backsides moving."

Finally, I turn to Faren "Redoran." He salutes "This city has been under your house for around two centuries, yes?"

"Two hundred and fifteen years." He responds simply.

I hum in a vaguely approving manner "Would it be safe to say that your house culture has at least been somewhat accepted within the populace? Beside the obvious border militancy that is."

He nods "Indeed."

"Good." I allow myself a smirk "Round up at least a thousand of them, more if you feel it wise, and start drilling them in longspear formations. I will transmute some simple weapons and armor for them as well, that should give us a nice core to hold the enemy while the rest of

us do the killing."

He considers briefly and nods "I will be sure to get them up to passable standards before we march, though I will caution against relaying on them overmuch. They may learn to stab well but discipline is not something grown in mere days."

"So instead of discipline we will have to instill morale." I mutter, drawing a noise of agreement from the soldier "I will see what I can do about that once they are at least a bit rested and recovered."

And Almeril seems to agree "Probably wise in the long run. They are Dunmer, they will be ready for the counterattack."

Hearing the unasked question I answer "We won't be able to move for a week at the very least, the city needs to be fortified further, supplies need to be organized, and I need to write some

letters."

"Letters?" The Redoran frowns "To whom?"

"Why the other Great Houses of course!" I grin at him "Speaking of, Indoril you look like you know your way around a bit of house politics, you will be helping me with this."

The young elf bows "Of course."

"Anondor, Akulakhan" And oh boy were there some winces at that name "You can help the

Redoran with the training while I am busy."

(General POV, minor timeskip)

All around the many capitals of Morrowind's Great Houses, whispers began to spread of a fiery bird diving into the various council chambers, delivering both disdainful mockery and terrible news with each visit.

Mere days passed before anyone worth anything learned of a growing southern incursion threatening to swallow beloved Resdayn whole. Whether said incursion was of House Dagoth, the An-Xileel, or uppity slaves was a matter of opinion however.

Upon the island of Old Ebonheart, just north of House Dres' sole remaining domain of worth, the Grand Magnate Aneris Dres scowled furiously at the letter now sitting at her table, the heat, both verbal and literal, of its deliverer still fresh in the back of her head.

The relatively young house leader knew that the sender, a rather notoriously ascending name these days, would gain great influence if he was heeded... But at the same time her domain and the last of her house's powerbase was basically a stone's throw from the Stonefalls and would most certainly be ravaged in the case of defeat.

With a sigh of defeat, the leader of House Dres called for her retainers, she had an army to

prepare.

Within the city of Necrom, the Grand Ascendant of House Indoril held a serene smile as the bearer of flames left him, not even bothering to look at the message before incinerating it on

the spot.

If the supposed messenger of the Good Daedra was to prove himself, helping him out overmuch would be a terrible disservice.

Indoril Neramir nodded at his own logic, and turned to his drink cabinet, drinking himself into oblivion was far more important than some far off war after all.

Sadras Sindrel, House Head of the new (by elf standards) Great House Sadras stared at the

letter in her hands, her amusement at the messenger birds mannerisms more than enough to make her actually read it instead of hoisting the job at one of her clerks.

She began skimming it before stopping and doing it once more but much more thoroughly, her cheerful expression growing paler and paler with each second as the request/bribe/threat hidden within the call for aid became apparent.

Most would have missed the subtext, but the three hundred year old woman knew better than to ignore the 'six branches are stronger together than separate' allegory held within. All who refused would get a visit from the Woodsmen was her takeaway.

"Well" She chuckled, much less entertained this time "At least he isn't asking me to do it for

free."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Here is to hoping she won't be held accountable for Dagon Fel being so far off the front.

"What is it you imbecile, can't you see I am working?" Baladas Demnevanni hissed at his

apprentice. The Archmagister of the Telvanni had come this close to breaking through Dagoth's formula of metal direction only to be interrupted by this chit.

First he is forced into leading this excuse for a house, then he has to move to Port Telvannis, and now this dumb idiot child gets hoisted onto him as a favor! Why he shou-

"A thousand apologies my lord." The poor girl bowed "An urgent letter just arrived-"

"Then give it to the Mouths you fool!" The elder Dunmer threw his arms up "Did I not tell you

to bother me with this shit a thousand times over?!"

"But my lor-"

"No more excuses fool! Why I will have you-"

"Master!" The woman yells, making him pause due to sheer surprise if anything "The

Argonians are invading and Lord Dagoth has sent for aid."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Baladas scowls and starts grabbing his combat equipment

from all over, all the while muttering something about "Finally wringing the truth out of

him..."

"Master?" The apprentice hesitates.

He rounds on her "What?"

"What am I to do with this?" She lifts the letter.

He almost did forget about it, didn't he? Shaking his head, Baladas spoke "Send a message to

every single Master and Magister, tell them... Tell them the animals are acting up again."

Archmaster Varan Sarano skimmed the letter he just got thrown at him and grunted in annoyance. He tossed the letter at his closest subordinate and gave a simple order "Make

ready the host."

(Reyvin's POV)

Without even looking up from my students, I ignore the sudden crack as Akulakhan grabs a fucking Shadowscale that just tried to skewer me and got her? neck broken for the trouble.

"I am afraid that will be all for today's class." I smile happily at the rows of half-dead students who had just spent the past four hours expending every single bit of their Magicka without knocking themselves out "It would seem our visitors are making their move."

The army of Morrowind needs supplies, your stones will do.

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