(AN: Well here we are, two years or so after I first began my venture into the Elder Scrolls fandom with the straight-forward epic fantasy adventure The Dragonborn and the Lioness. If i thought that those previous three stories were difficult [especially the last one, where i had to go back and read through all of my previous work in the first part], this will be even worse. I have to rebuild Cyrodiil from the ground up in the medium of prose, age it appropriately by 200 years and create all new characters, multiple story arcs and sub-plots, and all new adventures for our main character[s]. As such, this will be a challenge for me to make people who you all like that you don't have "prior knowledge" of [ie. most people like Aela the Huntress because of the game, but if i create a new character, you are introduced to them from square one and have to learn about them through the prose].)

Prologue - Trouble at Home

Pelagius stood outside of the count's audience chamber, waiting for the count to attend upon him. It was unusual for a lord to call upon a private citizen for a personal audience. But, while not a lord, a priest or a general, Pelagius was rather unusual himself. At age forty, he seemed a slight wisp of a man; he was of average height, though that was belied due to his hunching, and a thin, pinched build hidden beneath plain robes. His face, thin with high cheek-bones, shoulder-length brown hair receding away from a prominent forehead and a short beard and mustache, was thoroughly forgettable: only the eyes held any charm in this slight, unimposing figure. Black like Morrowind ebony, they were always quickly scanning the room around him. But if those black, piercing eyes met someone else's eyes, they would not easily forget the look in them.

If he had a family name, no one knew it save for himself. Whether or not his given name was truly Pelagius was also a matter of debate. Even those living in Bravil - the county in which Pelagius now was and whose count he was to visit shortly - a town notorious for its less-than-lawful activities, knew nothing about him other than his name and what little they could gather about his occupation. He had no ties to anyone: not the Placators, the organization of privileged nobles founded by the Imperial liaison to the Aldmeri Dominion that bowed, scraped and pandered to every demand of their High Elven associates, nor did he have any association with the Merchants Guild or the Thieves Guild. On the surface, he was a man with no name, no title and no money to speak of, but of many means and a foul reputation.

The door to the audience chamber opened and a young squire appeared. Pelagius looked down at the lad, who quickly averted his eyes.

"The Count will see you now," he quickly uttered, then dashed down the hall past the guards.

Slowly, meticulously, Pelagius walked towards the door. His hands, which before were clasped together close to his bosom, now parted as he pushed the door open a bit wider. On his right hand was a rather old scar: a strange marking for one who was so thin and ill-favored, even the lithe Bosmer seemed mighty in comparison. He never talked about it, or anything about himself, and once the door was opened enough for him to shuffle on through, he brought his hands back together again and approached the count.

The count, Ciprius Cantilius, gave off the affluence of the high life-style of the Imperial House of Nobles. He was shorter than Pelagius and thicker as well. His cheeks, also, were round and usually rosy in mirth or merriment: today there was no merriment on his face, only a grim determination as he waited for Pelagius to approach. Unlike Pelagius, he had a full head of silver-grey hair which, also, came down to the shoulders. He was attired in black breeches with black leggings and a deep green velvet doublet, embroidered upon the left breast with a golden shield showing a stag. Over this he wore a great cloak lined with fur, sewn in colors of gold with the emblem of the stag upon it. Green was a popular color among the Nibenay counties, but the stag was the emblem of Bravil.

"You sent for me, my lord?" Pelagius asked. His voice, despite his mean appearance, was deep, even-toned and very soothing.

"Yes, yes," groaned Count Cantilius, looking away from his guest and out the window towards the Niben Bay while his right hand clenched and unclenched nervously.

"If this is a bad time, my lord," Pelagius crooned. "I can always come again at a more convenient time."

"No, never-mind," the Count dismissed. "Come closer, man. Let me see you." Pelagius obliged with a graceful bowing of his head and approached the count's chair, made of true ebony inlaid with gold. When the shuffling footsteps of the Count's guest halted, he turned his fat head towards Pelagius and scrutinized him.

"I'm afraid my appearance is not flattering, my lord," Pelagius stated after a long pause. "Although, I am a man of many talents."

"Yes, I've heard," Count Cantilius noted. "And I've called you here to make use of your many talents. Now-" The Count tried to rise from his chair, but didn't get more than an inch. He roared for his page, after which the young lad who had been scared away by Pelagius came in after a minute or so.

"Yes, milord?" the youth asked.

"Where were you off to, eh?" the Count demanded. "Hiding? Playing games in the castle? Why, if I had my cane, I'd give you a sound thrashing!"

The youth balked slightly, but kept his head bowed. "What is your wish, milord?"

"Fetch me my cane," Count Cantilius noted with quiet menace in his voice. This time he noticed the page's quiver and let out a loud, uncouth laugh. "No no, you petulant piss-pot! I need to walk! Run along now, or I will thrash you once I have it!"

The youth bowed, then swiftly left the audience chamber. Count Cantilius chuckled once the lad departed.

"Children these days," he muttered aloud. "Always disrespectful of their elders. Yes, a good sound thrashing is what they need to straighten them out. Mark you, though..." He turned back to Pelagius, pointing a fat, pink sausage-like finger at him. "...I've heard that things are worse in the provinces. In Skyrim, the-the barbaric Nords let their little straw-headed brats run amok, free as free!" He snorted. "Uncivilized, is what it is. Wouldn't you say so?"

"My opinion is meaningless, my lord," Pelagius assured the Count.

The Count grumbled underneath his breath, then turned as the young page arrived with a cane of true ebony. With this in hand, the old, fat Count pushed himself up off his throne, then made his way down the steps towards Pelagius. By the time he was within arm's reach of Pelagius, the Count's grim face was flushed and he had not enough strength to swat the page away as he had intended. Instead, his short arm waved impotently in the direction of the page and he yelled. "Get out of here!" The youth bowed and left as quickly as possible. Once he was gone, the Count turned back to Pelagius.

"I'm sure you've heard the rumors, my good man," the Count grumbled.

"My lord," Pelagius softly reminded the Count. "There are many rumors in the counties these days, and even more in the provinces, if half of my sources can be trusted."

"Huh? Oh, yes, yes, I suppose," the Count mumbled. "But..." He held up one fat finger to punctuate his point as he moved, slowly and huffing like a sload, around Pelagius. "...there is one rumor in particular of which I am personally affected."

"It is a great sorrow, my lord," Pelagius demurred, lowering his head in respect.

The rumor which Count Cantilius spoke of was that regarding his daughter and sole heir to the county of Bravil. Three months ago she had disappeared with no record of her whereabouts. In those three months, there appeared neither a ransom note, a letter of farewell or even a report of a body.

"Yes yes, I suppose it is," Count Cantilius mumbled. "That is why I have brought you here personally."

"My lord?" Pelagius asked. "Surely the city guards would be more appropriate, or a mercenary posse. I believe the Fighters Guild would be more than willing to..."

"Oh, damn the Fighters Guild," Count Cantilius dismissed. "And damn the guards! That's the last thing I need, a public scandal. Tongues all over the county are already wagging about what goes on at the castle. If they catch wind of something more at trouble, it will ruin my reputation. The other lords would swoop down upon me like vultures, trying to take control right out from under my fingers!" He rose his large fingers, snapped them in front of Pelagius' nose, then continued his slow, waddling pace around his guest.

"You know best, my lord," Pelagius nodded.

The Count nodded in return: his thick neck jiggled as he tried to nod. "There is, of course, another reason I would like to keep this private." With one finger raised he gestured for Pelagius to come nearer to him.

"My lord?" Pelagius asked in a hushed tone.

"I was doing a little investigation of my own!" the Count remarked, a hint of pride in his voice. It was indeed a point of personal pride for the pudgy lord that he, despite rumors of being invalid, disabled, gout-ridden and incompetent (or was it impotent? Incontinent, even?), had actually done a bit of investigation on his own. Of course, this usually meant sending the servants on all of the dangerous tasks while he, with hand cupped to his ear, listened at the door of his daughter's chambers.

"Right up until my daughter vanished," Count Cantilius continued. "And I have good reason to believe that she made company with some...shall we say...rather...unscrupulous men?" He paused and turned slowly back around towards Pelagius.

"Being an unscrupulous man yourself, Pelagius," the Count noted. "I thought you would be the best choice in tracking down my daughter..." He held up one large finger in note. "...clandestinely, mind you. I'll have you thrown in prison if word of this gets out to anyone. You hear me?"

"Clearly, my lord," Pelagius nodded. "You wish me to discover the whereabouts of your daughter without being detected, is that correct?"

"Ah, well done!" the Count chuckled. His whole body shook with each shaking, cough-like bellow. "It's good to know that there are still a few loyal, competent people in Cyrodiil these days." He patted Pelagius on the shoulder so hard, the thin, taller man practically caved in. After recovering himself, he smiled and nodded.

"I suppose you'll be wanting payment, eh?" the Count asked, his voice now low and disapproving. "No one does anything these days for free."

"My services are the best, my lord," Pelagius reminded the Count. "It would be considered a well-placed bargain in any county, what I offer for my services."

"Well, in my court, it's thievery!" Count Cantilius exclaimed, pounding his foot on the carpeted floor. "There once was a time when men did things for their lords out of sheer loyalty, and filial love for the seat of nobility, not for money or glory."

"The knightly orders are dead, my lord," Pelagius stated.

"Bah, don't remind me," the Count grumbled. After a while he sighed, then turned back to Pelagius, one hand over a large, golden necklace upon his thick neck. "Very well, sir, name your terms."

"Nine hundred and fifty septims is my usual price for such...clandestine work," Pelagius noted with an air of discomfort. He did not like to let on anything about himself, not to anyone. "However, for you, I will make a discount. Only five hundred."

"That little, eh?" mocked the Count. "And why will you give me discount? Am I not rich enough to afford the full charge?"

"I am not a greedy man, my lord," Pelagius stated, lowering his head. "Money to me is like the Church of the Nine: a means to an end. However, those I have to pay for the fulfillment of our arrangement are bound by such...simple wants. To give you what you want, I will have to pay them, and lately they charge..."

"Fine fine, I suppose you're right," grumbled the Count. "Very well, five hundred it is."

"Five hundred and one thing more," Pelagius added swiftly.

For one so large, the swiftness with which Count Cantilius turned in response to Pelagius' addendum was startling.

"What's that?" the Count asked suspiciously.

"News from the Imperial City," Pelagius replied. At this point he let his black eyes fix upon Count Cantilius' small, beady, blue-grey eyes. The Count could not hold his gaze for very long and turned away, looking instead at the head of his cane, carved in the likeness of a stag whose antlers were clustered into a firm head.

"What makes you think I know anything going on in the Imperial City?" the Count asked.

"Knowledge is power, my lord," Pelagius stated, his low voice no longer soothing but hungry. "Surely you, wisely wary of the machinations of the other members of the House of Nobles, must have some means of gathering information on them and what goes on in the Capital. For you, I will give a discount in exchange for information. This is all I ask." He bowed gracefully, but his dark eyes were trained upwards, towards the Count. The Count squirmed when the black eyes turned back to him: impertinent whelp, mocking him with those eyes of his!

"Very well," Count Cantilius sighed. "What is it you wish to know?"

"My sources tell me," Pelagius began, walking steadily and slowly around the Count, arms still folded into his breast. "That the Emperor has returned from his journey to his cousin's wedding in Skyrim. Immediately after arriving, he went up into the White-Gold Tower and has not been seen or heard from since. The Elder Council is running the daily administrations in the name of the Emperor and assure us that the Emperor is alive, but that he is not well."

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Count Cantilius muttered. "Although, from what I hear, the Elder Council is in shambles. At least three of the thirty have disappeared, and in their absence, they're debating something rather important."

"What's that?" Pelagius asked.

"Giving sole control of the Elder Council into the hands of the High Chancellor," the Count whispered.

"Lexerus Buteo?" Pelagius asked.

"The same," Count Cantilius mumbled, a scowl upon his face.

"Why would there be need to grant the High Chancellor sole control of the Elder Council?" Pelagius asked again.

"Who knows?" the Count shrugged. "Perhaps the rumors of plague spreading into the Niben are true. Maybe those of influence in the Elder Council believe granting the High Chancellor these powers will effect a more meaningful solution? How should I know? My only concern is Bravil!"

"Of course, my lord," Pelagius bowed, keeping his dark eyes trained on the rotund count.

Count Cantilius turned towards his chair, then, just before the steps, turned back to Pelagius. "Is there anything else?"

"There is one thing more, my lord," Pelagius noted. "There are rumors that the Emperor's cousin was murdered during her wedding in Skyrim."

The Count's face fell into a suspicious grimace as he strode slowly towards Pelagius. He stopped when he was within an inch of Pelagius' broken nose.

"Be wary what you talk about these days, spy," he grumbled. "Not everyone is as generous as I am. Have I made myself clear?"

"Remarkably so, my lord," Pelagius nodded. The Count turned about to the throne and began to ascend the stairs.

"And what of the war?" he asked.

Count Cantilius let out a seemingly uncharacteristic laugh. "Haven't you heard? Finally some good news! The civil war is over! The Legions have triumphed against the barbarians of the North!"

"This is certainly joyous news, my lord," Pelagius remarked in a voice that betrayed no great amount of joy.

"To be sure, to be sure," the Count nodded. "I hear there will be a celebration in the Imperial City. The victor of the campaign, General Flavius Tullius, will march through the city streets with his Legions to receive the Emperor's blessings and favor."

(AN: I felt that we needed a prologue, just like in The Dragon and the Bear, since we are starting this story from its beginning. We also get to be introduced to two of our newest characters, the spy known for now as Pelagius [definitely not his real name], whose behavior was heavily influenced by Petyr Baelish from Game of Thrones [though his appearance is slightly based on Bron from the same], and Count Cantilius who is both Count of Bravil and the father of another significant character to make their appearance in this story [visually inspired by British actor Ian McNeice].)