Prologue
Jourgum sat in his castle's study. He had been there a long time. Jourgum adjusted his cloak, sitting patiently. It had only been several hours before when he heard Crown Prince Geldall was coming to him. I hate these meetings, he thought, but I'm the Emperor's Finance Councilor aren't I? He poured himself a glass of wine and sipped it, allowing the sweet liquid to calm himself.

He thought again what he was going to tell the Crown Prince. Tax reports, trade summaries, revenue problems and so many other financial documents he tried to recall. This isn't going to work well, he thought, I can't tell the Prince Geldall the Empire is on the verge of financial collapse. Or I could, and be told to fix it, but how do you tell the Imperium to stop half of its spending. No, he will accept his dismissal with dignity, but how could he return to the Imperial City with such failure? He shuddered at the thought. He reached for the wine again when his servant, Ashiatus entered the study.

"My lord, Crown Prince Geldall has just entered the Castle Grounds." he said, taking the wine from Jourgum. "and I don't think drinking is going to change that."

"Ashiatus, please, no lecture from you today." Jourgum responded.

"Yes my lord, shall I prepare for dinner to be held in your private dinning room?"

"That would be best, and make it soon."

Ashiatus turned to leave but Jourgum said, "But serve drinks right away. Anything to get him relaxed. He will swallow me whole if he isn't.

Ashiatus smiled and left the room, leaving Jourgum alone in the study again.

Only after several minuets, the Crown Prince entered the room with several men. Jourgum knew the Prince's personal blade guard well, and he noticed several of the others were members of the Emperor's Government. Nobles all of them, he thought.

Jourgum jumped up and bowed deeply to the Crown Prince, saying "Welcome my Prince, I hope your journey here has been easy. I would have met you in the Imperial City if I was told sooner."

"I'm sure you would, but I want this to go as quick as possible." Prince Geldall said, interrupting Jourgum.

"Ofcourse, please sit down here, my Prince." Jourgum said, motioning to the chair opposite his on the round table before the grand fireplace.

"So, what is the news Councilor?" the Prince asked.

"My Prince, I have reviewed the financial reports and I feel that we need to have a serious restructuring of the Imperial Government." Jourgum said quickly.

Just when the Prince was about to reply, Ashiatus entered with drinks for the men. Jourgum sighed with relief. Just when I needed them Ashiatus, he thought.

He set the platter down, pouring a glass for the Prince. He drank deeply from the cup before continuing, "What do you mean restructuring Jourgum?"

"I, uh... well, our revenue can no longer support the, my Lord?"

The Prince was slumped in his chair, with liquid flowing out of his mouth.

"Geldall!" cried a blade, running over to the prince. He felt his heart and said, "He is dead."

In the kitchen, Ashiatus laughed and screamed, "FOR LORD DAGON!"


Chapter 1
Light fell through the windows of the Duke's hall. Now deserted, it had once been filled with the rebellion leaders. Their battle plans were scattered across the floor, their food was left untouched, and much of their equipment was left. Sir Valga entered through the front door and observed the room.

Much of the hall had changed since he last was there, before the rebellion. He remembered the smilling Duke of Winterhold, who seemed unfit for the cold Skyrim coast lands. He wasn't much of a fighter but, a loyal servant to the Empire. Winterhold prospered under his command. Now, it is mostly gone, Sir Valga thought.

Sir Valga turned and noticed the terrace. Walking outside, he could see most of the destructed Fortress and City. The battle was over, and the insurrection was finished. It was a hard victory, he remembered, many times had he been in the center of the battle. His battered armor and bruised body were testament to this. But in those times the Legion triumphed. Looking back at the Duke's Hall, he realized that they were caught off guard. They didn't expect a reaction like this; especially an army led by an Imperial Prince.

Sir Valga heard others in the Hall now. Walking back in, he saw most of the Legionnaire generals and officers gathered. One separated from the pack and embraced Sir Valga by the forearm and said, "It looks like we have our victory my friend."

"General Itus," Sir Valga replied, shaking his arm, "We have definitely won a great victory. Look at this room. They were not expecting us."

"Yes, these Nord Rebels were no match for us, but I suppose it isn't right to celebrate, especially since Prince Dourne doesn't want to cause trouble with the locals outside of Winterhold."

Sir Valga nodded and replied, "Is he expecting more rebellious behavior?"

Another man, great in size and dressed in officer's armor joined them and said, "I had spoken to the Prince earlier before we entered the city, he wanted some men to scout the surrounding country side to intimidate any further rebellion."

"How many men did you send, Captain?" General Itus asked.

"I decided on sending a few Legionnaire Cavalryman. Nothing more than 200, General." he responded. The captain folded his arms. Staring out the Hall's doorway, he saw Prince Dourne climbing the steps.

The cold wind from the North Sea was much colder than Prince Dourne was used to. Even the Royal Armor with the fur tunic couldn't stop the chills that continued to bombard him. Maybe it was the battle, he thought. Though he had been in fights before, never had he experienced the total war like the last week was. Endless hours of war with little rest. He remembered again the battle that took place in the woods surrounding the Fortress. The bloody scenes of battle couldn't be forgotten. His long time friend, from his early days in the Imperial Palace, was now lying in a ditch before the Fortress, along with countless other men. He shivered again, not sure whether it was the cold or the memories.

He stopped, and stared out to the vast North Sea. The power and vastness of the rough ocean overwhelmed him. Imperials are used to the calm waters of Lake Rumare, or the beautiful Abecean Sea but, they were no equals to the Nord's Sea. What had brought him to this day, he thought. As long as he could remember, he was small in the eyes of his family. He was last in line to the Imperial Throne, and therefore was bread to serve the future Emperor, not be it. His cousins, even his brothers, were preparing for important lives in the Imperium. It seemed only his grandfather, the Emperor, took notice of him. Prince Dourne warmed a little, when he remembered his grandfather's announcement that he would lead the Legion north.

"Now, I can return in victory to my family," he whispered to himself. He continued to climb the stone steps leading to the gray stoned hall of Winterhold.

Inside, his officers had fixed the room a little and put a table in the center. They took positions behind chairs, waiting for him to arrive. They all bowed deeply when Prince Dourne entered, and General Itus motioned to the Duke's Throne, which stood at the head of the table. He walked over to the ornate throne and sat down. The rest soon followed suit.

The Prince looked around at his generals and officers. All of them, he recalled, he had fought with in battle, and all of them were loyal to him and the Empire. They had fought bravely and offered good advice but, they were not subservient to his command. That is why the Emperor loves being around Legionaires more than politicians he realized. Thinking of politicians, he looked around the room and finally asked, "did anyone ever find the Duke of Winterhold?"

Sir Valga, sitting to the Prince's right, leaned forward and said, "We found his body in the dungeons. Most likely he was tortured to death, my Liege." He sat back, taking a quick sip of his wine, obviously in some distress.

The Prince continued to ask the Generals of the current shape of the army. They told him the rebels were almost completely destroyed and some were captured. 493 Legionaries had been killed, and about 200 local civilians were found dead. Winterhold the city was almost completely destroyed but, the Fortress itself was still usable.

The sun was setting behind Prince Dourne when the reports were finished and the final orders made. He stood up, preparing to end the meeting when he heard steps behind him. A man in blade armor came rushing up the steps and stumbled through the doorway. He fell before the Prince.

"What are you doing here, Blade?" the Prince asked, in shock.

Out of breathe, the Blade looked up at the Prince and said, "The Imperial Family has been murdered."

Fantastic beginning. The prologue, especially, is brilliant.

I echo the above, this is moving well and you have set it up nicely.

My only comment woul be that the first paragraph is a bit clumsy to clumsy to be the inital hook.

The doors of White Gold Tower stood closed before High Chancellor Ocato. He motioned to the palace guards who opened them, allowing him to see the gathering inside. Elder Councilman, politicians, nobles, and the Legion were arguing back and forth. The topic was the Imperial Assassinations. A councilman, dressed in the robes of the Imperial Church stepped toward Ocato and asked, "High Chancellor Ocato, do you have word? Has the entire Septim line been destroyed?"

Ocato walked toward the center of the crowd, that filled the corridor surrounding the Elder Council Chambers. He looked around him, all of them were waiting eagerly for his word. He lifted his slender hand toward the council chamber and said, "I will tell you inside, go, I have something to do."

Disagreement was voiced against him. He waved his hand, dismissing them. A palace guard walked through the crowed and tugged on his red robe. Ocato looked at him and asked, "Is the Emperor's body ready to be seen? Can I see him?"

"Follow me my Lord, he lies in the Tower Catacombs."

They walked away from the arguing politicians and continued down the long turning hallway. At the end of it stood the door leading to the Catacombs and the ancient underground world of the Imperial City. Another standing guard saluted and then opened the red door. Inside, a darkened stairway led gradually deeper into the catacombs.

Ocato was lead down into the Catacombs. At the end of the stairwell, they reached a landing. The guard led him deeper into the darkly lit catacombs, with only a few torches lighting the way. After several minuets of walking, Ocato saw ahead of him a large group of men assembled. Priests and guards stood outside a closed door. Ocato was approached by a man in the robes of an embalmer. He bowed slightly and said, "My liege, the Emperor's body is ready to be seen." he pointed to the door, "inside my lord."

Ocato entered the room. Surrounding him was a well lit room, heavily frescoed, with busts of previous emperors sitting on marble pedestals. The grandeur of the room surprised Ocato. Inside the darkness and old decaying rubble of the ancient Imperial City, there was a room of grand beauty. The ceiling curved upward into a high rotunda, with artistic depictions of the Nine placed all around.

In the middle of the room, the body of Emperor Uriel Septim VII lay peacefully on an ornately carved stone alter. Ocato walked up to the altar and looked on the face of Uriel Septim. His face no longer had the look of pain Ocato had come to known so much those last few months. The work to fix the Empire was no longer able to disrupt the man's rest.

"You should have retired, my Lord." Ocato whispered. The feeling of sadness filled him and he was left to weeping.
"Uriel, you have left me with no heir, no leader to serve" Ocato said, no longer crying. "The Empire faces a crisis it has never seen. The armies are stretched thin across the Empire, the politicians are divided, and the Septim Line is finished!"

He let the last sound reverberate through the stone room. Ocato examined the armor Uriel Septim was wearing, the Imperial Dragon Armor that the Emperors have worn since Tiber Septim. On his chest, there was nothing. The Amulet of Kings was gone. Ocato sighed and took a moment to pray. He prayed for the Empire, for its future existence and safety and, at the end he asked the Nine, "Let my Emperor be eternally at peace; never has there been a more holy man serving you."

He turned and walked out the door. Outside the room, the guards were still gathered, but a newcommer had come. The newcomer walked to Ocato and said to him, "High Chancellor, the Elder Council demands your presence immediately. They have grown impatient."

"Ofcourse," he said, lifting his hand down the hall, "after you."

Councilor Serillian sat in the Council Chamber. Surrounding him were many observers and around the table the other thrones were occupied, save two. One, for the High Chancellor and the other, for the Emperor. Oh Nine, let there be a Septim, he begged, just one to lead us. Don't let the Empire fall into hands of weaker and less able men...

High Chancellor Ocato stepped at that moment into the chamber. Serillian stood, as did the rest of them, and added a quick bow. But, the Emperor's presence wasn't there, so the bows were hesitant. Ocato stood in front of his throne, and put a piece of paper on the large stone table in front of him. He said, "Please, be seated."

The councilors sat, and Ocato, still standing said, "Elder Councilman, Lords of Cyrodiil, and Citizens of the Empire, at this moment, the Septim bloodline has been ended." Those words echoed throughout the chamber. All councilman sat still, none of them knew what to do. Ocato looked to his right at the empty throne. Uriel Septim, you left the Empire without a leader. Now, the traitors will fight for your throne.

A councilor wearing armor stood up and looked around at the others, he then said, "We are in the middle of a crisis! And there is no one to lead us. Gentlemen, I have fought wars, and I am ready to lead."

Deridius Feggar, the richest man in the Empire rebutted, "General Ulrak, you must be joking. I don't think anyone with as little intelligence has ever thought of being Emperor!

With that the room exploded in shouts of anger. Others said they were the ones to lead, while others said no one should lead. In the chaos, Ocato sat down. He looked at the paper in front of him on the table. He read over it again. It listed all known heirs to the Septim line, and all were dead...

The councilor to his left, a member of the faction most loyal to the Emperor and Ocato, leaned over and said, "We should have known this would happen. The factions in the council have been present since its inception. Now, they are all fighting for the throne. Ocato, we have to find an heir before this becomes civil war."

"Councilor Roland, there is no one left. All of them are dead, and if they aren't, they will be. The group who assassinated the Imperial Family is still working, maybe even here." replied Ocato, he sighed and looked up at the arguing politicians, "moreover, the Amulet of Kings is gone. There is little hope for us now. I will pray for a leader to arise but, I wouldn't wager on it."

Ocato heard screams behind him. He looked and saw a crowed running into the chambers. He stood and yelled, "What are you doing here? How dare you interrupt this sacred council, Begone!"

A soldier ran to Ocato and said, "My Lord, Kvatch has been sacked."

The chamber was filled in silence as Ocato asked, "What do you mean sacked? By whom?"

The soldier cried as he said, "By a Daedra army my Lord. The gates opened and the city was burned to the ground. I don't know if they are any survivors."

Ocato's reply was never heard as the chamber burst into new argument. Councilor Serillian looked sadly around and said, "So, this is how the Empire will fall?

Very nice. We finally get to see an Imperial Council with some personalities and political machinations.

Good to see this continued, I'm not sure I've seen anything from quite this angle before.

Good work.