It would be a memory that would haunt Kaius for the rest of his life. Deep in the catacombs and sewers of the Imperial City, during the very height of the Concordat War just as the city finally fell to the invaders, he and Astinoia had been ambushed. For four years the Aldmeri Dominion’s armies, their Armonía’s had ground their bloody way through Cyrodiil, spending blood for every metre of land they took from the Mede Legions and besieging the Imperial City. Not since the dark days of the Three Banners war in the Second Era had such a thing occurred, and while the City had held out and the Legions and the Navy had fought valiantly, it had finally come to the point where the world’s greatest city couldn’t hold out any longer.

  Hundreds of thousands of people were fleeing, on an island city almost entirely surrounded by squadrons of Dominion galleons attempting to wrestle control of Lake Rumare from the battered remnants of the Imperial Navy. For most, there was nowhere to go, no where to run, and very little places to hide from the tens of thousands of battle-weary elves and khajiit rampaging, ransacking and raping their way through all in their path. In some places they encountered fierce resistance, small groups of Legionaries from the VIII Legio Ferrata fighting desperately to hold the northern docks as a means of escape for the million or so inhabitants, but it would have never been enough. The blockade was closing, the streets were packed, and the sheer numbers of mortals filling the streets were slowing the Dominion’s soldiers more than the splintering shield walls of the last remaining Legion.

  In amongst all of this chaos, the terror and panic, Kaius had made a decision. Something that had been unthinkable for him for over a century and a half. He abandoned his duty, casting aside his position and persona of the Black Blade for someone for whom his loyalty and love was greater than that to the Empire. Finding Astinoia was easy enough, throughout a majority of the siege she had remained in the Arcane University and after finding her in her personal quarters they wasted no time in fleeing.

  With the roads packed with tens of thousands, and with dozens of the Dominion’s cohort-equivalent Tágma’s pushing deep into the city there was less than zero chance of making it to the northern docks, but unlike anyone else, Kaius knew an alternative. A safe route, deep through the guts of the city, unknown, hidden and untravelled for a very long time. Afterall, the last people to have used such an escape route had been himself, a handful of Blades, and Emperor Uriel Septim VII over a hundred and seventy years before…

  Fate though seemed to have other plans. Their adversaries had been waiting for them, using a combination of magicka, illusions, and good old fashioned stealth with armours dulled with soot and dust. Not even Kaius’s vampirism had been enough to warn him until it was far too late. Storming out of the shadows, three dozen, hand-picked Altmer Oiopelin fell upon them, relying on their numbers, magicka, and sheer determination to overwhelm the two of them quickly.

  It didn’t entirely go their way though. Despite their personal skill at arms, magicka and immaculately crafted armour, the Thalmor elites had suffered before they managed to subdue Kaius and Astinoia. Several had been killed outright, and a couple more bore severe wounds from Kaius’s sword, Sunchild. They were ultimately successful though, finally managing to bind the two of them with chains and restraints that, on anyone else, would have been excessive.

  Panting and shaking his head in the vain attempt to clear the ringing in his ears and the dullness from the spells that had struck him, Kaius could do little else but kneel in the dust and the blood. The Oiopelin had not taken any chances, both through the power and quantity of the spells they had used during the ambush, and the way that they had bound him. Twelve, armoured elite soldiers of the Aldmeri Dominion were holding onto a series of silver-plated mithril, chains binding his limbs, and a thirteenth wrapping another length of chain around his throat that left his flesh sizzling.

  "And so the dutiful guardian delivers our prize right into our hands. It is very considerate of such a champion of the Empire."

  Unable to turn his head and feeling nothing but pain as the silver on the chains began burning into his wrists, throat and ankles, Kaius could only look forward towards Astinoia. She was being held just as securely as he was, but unlike himself, her chains were not plated in silver. It was the only bright light of hope within the darkness of the catacombs as another Altmer made his presence known.

  "I have to admit that I was expecting you to put up more of a fight with a reputation such as yours." The newcomer hissed through a hungry grin, moving around and into Kaius's sight. “However, you and your reputation will end here."

  Despite his situation, Kaius snorted at the newcomer’s remark about not putting up enough of a fight. A dozen of the Dominion’s best soldiers were dead or close to it, one of which would need something like a mop to pick up the elvish remains.

  “My Lord, the Emperor was not with him.”

  The newcomer’s sudden annoyance was unmistakable, but Kaius had felt his blood run cold at the way the highest ranking Oiopelin; a Chiliarch judging by the cloak and sash he wore, addressed the newcomer. A Chiliarch was equivalent to a Tribune and commanded a Dominion ‘Thémata’ of five hundred soldiers. There was only one person in all the Dominion’s military that a Chiliarch would address as ‘lord.’

  Falarengore Yanncano Naarifin, Strategeos Primarch of the ‘Aurion’ Plíthos that had fought its way through Cyrodiil over the previous years. ‘Lord’ Naarifin was the second of the two great generals of the Aldmeri Dominion, and while his copatriot, Strategeos Primarch Arannelya led the Dominion’s forces in their invasion of Hammerfell, Naarifin was in command of the more important theatre of the war; the Imperial Heartland. The fact that he was here, deep within the undercity and taking command of what was little more than a prisoner capturing mission, did not bode well at all for Kaius, as much as it was confusing to him.

  “Where is the Emperor? Where is Mede?”

  “Titus?” Blood was running down over Kaius’s chin from a shield that had struck him hard in the face, but he couldn’t help but chuckle around the gore. “With any luck, halfway between here and Skyrim."

  "Then why aren't you at his side? Surely the great Emperor Mede needs his champion."

  Just when Kaius thought his blood couldn’t run any colder, it practically froze solid in his veins. ‘His champion.’ Somehow, Naarifin knew that Kaius was the Black Blade. That alone was just as concerning as how the elves had known that he was going to take this long forgotten passage from the Imperial City prison district. All of the people who had known of that particular prison cell, with that particular tunnel leading into the catacombs and sewers, had been dead for over a hundred and fifty years. He knew that the Dominion’s intelligence gathering network was good, but this knowledge should’ve been impossible.

  "Who is this?" The question brooked no insubordination, but the tone and indignation that was building within the Altmer commander was struggling to be held at bay.

  Like all elves, especially the Altmer, Elenwen may have been thirty years younger, but their long lived lives meant that whether she was thirty, or three hundred she would have looked the same. Unless taken by disease or violence, most elves were more than capable of living four or five hundred years on average. Longer still, if aided with alchemy and restoration magicka. The difference however was at this moment she wore the golden armour of a Oiopelin instead of formal dresses and robes, and her title wasn’t ambassador, but rather Strategos; a commander of a Dominion’s equivalent of a Legion known as a Fálanga.

  She, like a handful of other commanders, advisors and supporters that had come with Naarifin, had appeared out of the shadows when the ambush had finally succeeded. Where the others had held back from answering their master’s query, she stepped forward, gesturing to the Oiopelin standing behind Astinoia, who immediately pulled her head back by the hair.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Astinoia Desin my lord.” There was barely any hesitation in the future ambassador’s identification, peering down into the hate and fear filled eyes of the woman at her feet. “His daughter."

  Normally, a being in command of a Dominion Plíthos was a cold, calculating individual, but this moment was testing the Altmer General to the breaking point. Naarifin’s elven features were twisted in rage and annoyance and for good reason. He had come, in person, to capture the leader of the Empire and decisively end the war that had been costing both sides tens of thousands of dead and the intent and plan had been simple. Ambush the Emperor and his chosen champion, cut the Empire’s leadership off at the head, and secure more than just a local, tactical victory. Instead, he had taken the Emperor’s bodyguard and his daughter, being made to appear a fool and replacing gloating victory, with embarrassment and insult.

  “Kill her.” The words snapped Kaius’s head up in horror, not only at the command but the casual disregard that the Elven commander had ordered Astinoia’s death. “Then deliver him to Reive.”

  Despite their discipline and loyalty, the gathered Oiopelin and the others like Elenwen hesitated for a moment as the enraged Naarifin stormed off into the shadows. His footsteps were echoing like a funeral gong through the catacombs, joining with the chorus of his aides and lackeys who left the soldiers to fulfill their orders. Only Elenwen remained behind, for a few moments longer at least, walking over to the Oiopelin holding onto the swords that Kaius and Astinoia had been carrying when they were ambushed. Kaius’s was clearly elven in nature; a perfectly forged, immaculate single edged sword the length of a broadsword with a ruby red hilt and pommel that flowed into the blade as though grown from the same piece of metal. There was no hesitation at all when Elenwen took Sunchild from the Oiopelin, not even sparing a glance to its previous owner, before she too disappeared into the darkness.

  With a trio of Thalmor dragging on the silver plated chains wrapped around each limb, there was little he could do, but Kaius still resisted with all his strength. Swearing, grunting and beginning to sweat under the strain, the four groups of elves did all they could to lock their feet into the floor and keep him from breaking free. Initially none of them wanted to be the first to obey their Lord's command until the Chiliarch stepped forward, dragging his own sword free of its sheath and stepping behind Astinoia.

  Roaring with pain and determination, flesh burning from the silver, Kaius put so much effort into breaking free that other elves had to join their comrades in holding the chains tight. It took sixteen of their number just to hold him in place.

  "Father."

  Less than four metres separated them, but it may as well have been the entire Niben Bay for all that it mattered. Their eyes met, and Kaius stared into the wolf-yellow irises that had always reminded him of her mother. No tears could be seen in his daughter’s eyes, but there was sorrow enough, and Kaius could do nothing but watch as the Thalmor took her life.

  Punching through spine and ribs, an elven blade cut deeply and tasted blood, as it sought out her heart. For a second Astinoia squirmed on the blade, her mouth opened in a silent scream, fangs now clearly visible, even as she began to burn and immolate from within. In mere seconds it was all over, leaving little more than a sorry looking pile of bones and ash, resting amongst the dust and gore. She was gone, dead and the collection of Altmer holding Kaius's chains felt him slump with the full weight of failure.

  "Take him away as Lord Naarfin ordered. Reive, will be waiting at the pits..."

  Feeling his soul unexpectedly grow cold, the Chiliarch looked down at the man bound in the chains of silver and watched in horror as a monster clothed itself in Kaius’s flesh. Nothing human remained, the bones of his face and body shifting and cracking, teeth turning to fangs, jaw lengthening, and in horror the elven soldier found himself reflected in a pair of black, soulless pits of eyes.

  After all the decades of death and horror, of the darkness he had fought and contained through his life, Kaius succumbed to the darkness. The death of his second child in four years severing the last strands of his morality and humanity, and drowning it in Molag Bal’s curse. By the time the Oiopelin, through a combination of magicka, weapons, fists, feet and even magically collapsing the ceiling, managed to subdue Kaius once more, fifteen of their number had their souls sent screaming into Aetherius.

  "I have a recognisable face these days.” Again, slowly taking another sip of the expensive brandy, Kaius watched Elenwen’s expression and the body language of her two Oiopelin guards despite his emotions from the memories. They, like the memories of the burns up his body, were fresh in his mind but despite the fact he was practically reliving the death of his daughter, there was nothing to show of his inner turmoil. “Killing dragons seems to be a way to gain considerable fame in Skyrim."

  "Oh?” The Elven Ambassador’s expression was cold and calculating, suspicion growing with every moment as her own certainty increased. “How many of the serpents have you slain thus far?"

  "Three.” The smile he wore was about one percent respect, and ninety-nine percent challenge. Hahdiinrii, Mirmulnir, and a little over a month ago I slew the dragon Sahloknir near Kynesgrove."

  "Really? That's far more than I think anyone would expect a simple char to accomplish. Tell me; do you make a point of remembering the names of your enemies?"

  "Only enemies who have proved themselves worthy, or ones that I am yet to deal with… Elenwen Loraethiane."

  Elenwen knew exactly who Kaius was. Kaius knew that Elenwen knew who he was. Both of them knew that the only reason why blood hadn’t been immediately spilt, was the fact that they were surrounded by dozens of the most powerful men and women in all of northern Tamriel, and that any actions would jeopardise everything. Kaius couldn’t act without destroying all the intelligence and information he had come to gain, and Elenwen couldn’t order his arrest or death without irreparably damaging all of the Dominion’s efforts in Skyrim. Neither of them though were willing to back down and the tension between them was growing to the point where the emotionless Oiopelins’ grip on their swords subtly tightened.

  "Madame Ambassador, I'm so sorry to interrupt..."

  "What is it, Malborn?" Somehow managing to give the impression of rolling her eyes without them ever leaving Kaius's, the Thalmor Ambassador did her best not to twitch at the sudden interruption.

  "We've run out of the Alto Wine." Bowing at the waist, a wood elf servant moved over, holding a bottle of Colovian Brandy in his hands and averting his eyes from his mistress. "Do I have your permission to uncork the Arenthia red?"

  "Of course." Dragging her attention away from Kaius, and giving the servant the slightest of glances, Elenwen’s expression still hadn’t changed, but there was a steel-like sharpness in her gaze. "I've told you several times before, do not bother me with such trifles."

  "Yes. Madame Ambassador."

  "I hope you're enjoying yourself." Like a dagger hidden under the purest of silks, Elenwen’s tone was perfectly formal and graceful, but the threat was obvious, as was the way it was being directed in full force at Kaius. She was at that very moment attempting, to calculate a solution to the unique, and unexpected problem that had walked through her doors. "The hospitality of the Thalmor is at your service..."

  Without a glance or even the slightest of words or gestures, the tall Mer turned, moving onwards to the next guests with her pair of bodyguards dutifully following her in perfect step. Kaius watched her leave, smiling viciously as she left him unmolested, for the moment at least.

  "Y'ffre damn you Kaius," Turning his back to the Elven Ambassador moving through the crowd, Malborn hissed through clenched teeth as he went through the motions of refilling Kaius’s glass with more brandy. "I was told that you were going to be discreet."

  "I am being discreet." With a mouthful of fresh brandy and a smile, Kaius glanced out of the corner of his eye at Delphine’s contact. "I haven't killed anyone yet."

  The silence between them was solid enough to cut with a knife until a pair of nearby guards moved towards a guest who had already had far too much to drink. Despite the smell of fear and tension around him there was no real sign of it in Malborn’s posture or bearing, the subterfuge of the Bosmer agent was near perfect. Afterall, being undercover in the likes of the Dominion took a specific set of skills and experience to otherwise not end up dead, or worse, at the hands of the Justiciars.

  "I hope we both live through this day…"

  "Your confidence is inspiring." With a smooth motion, Kaius drained his refilled glass in a series of gulps before placing it, and his plate of biscuits on a nearby table. "I suppose that we better go check the wine cellar though. It appears that you have run out of this particular vintage, and unless I’m mistaken, I believe that I am about to wear out my welcome..."