“Madam, I must say that you've settled beneath yourself.” While Titus Mede's tone was jovial, the ripples it sent through the room were everything but. The Emperor spoke to Summer Glade, who was currently cuddled against her forebear's chest. The bleached mare chuckled along with the monarch even as she felt Reman tremble in the much older man's presence. “But I approve.”

“Well, that settles one problem.” Marcus Tullius tried to look on the brighter side of things, even as the situation devolved around him. The general understood his lord's reasoning; the influx of gems would devalue the diamonds found in the Dominion while simultaneously raising the cost to hire Imperial artisans.

“Not quite, there is still the matter of tradition.” Antonius still wasn't thrilled about his son's actions, but he wasn't actively trying to ruin the young man's life. The Tullius family had a ritual that dated back to Joan the Champion and Aurelius the Crusader. It was nothing special, but it symbolized the family's determination to stay true to Cyrodiil's ways.

“Yes, but the time won't arrive until summer.” Reman was well-aware of the age-old tradition, but only to the extent expected of him. He and Lynette had undergone the trial during adolescence, and there wasn't enough of a challenge for either to call it a challenge.

“Ah, yes, the All Saints Day blooming.” The Emperor chuckled a bit as he thought about the summer's events. “I think there may be a bit of irony involved somewhere in all this.”

“I thought I was the only one to notice that.” Uriel would never be credited with being smart, not while his brother had anything to say on the matter, but even the older twin had to acknowledge his mirror's perceptiveness.

“Am I the only one who's completely lost?” Rarity had remained respectfully silent, but the rambling of the social elite were unintelligible to her. The Element of Generosity understood Canterlot nobles, but those from Cyrodiil were beyond her experience. She knew they were talking about something important, and that it likely involved flowers, but nothing beyond that. The alabaster mare waited a few moments for one of the others to answer her. The humans continued to speak and Glade tossed in her two bits whenever she wished, but something very quickly dawned on the other seven ponies.

Pinkie hadn't said a word since the Emperor arrived.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

There was so much to see in Solitude! It was like a less-extravagant Canterlot, but it had a beauty all its own. Pinkie Pie had been taught that appearances could be deceiving, and the slightly monotonous city revealed the incredible noble quarter. The place seemed somewhat snobbish, but the Blue Palace at the district's far end was worth the rude neighbors. It was designed much like the rest of Solitude, if exponentially better looking.

“Have pity on an old madman.” The Element of laughter heard a distinctly un-laughing voice. The owner was a depressed-looking human dressed in ragged clothing and in desperate need of a shave. Pinkamina Diane Pie immediately recognized the man as a beggar, and most likely homeless, but there was little she could do about his financial situation. But, on a deep level, she understood there was plenty she could do to cheer him up.

“Why do you need pity? I'm sure there's loads of stuff you can do better than most ponies!” Much to the bubbly pony's dismay, the human only gave a ragged sigh. Pinkie could almost feel her mane begin to deflate, and she was almost angry that she didn't have anything stashed around Skyrim in the event of emergency.

“My master left me here.” The homeless man looked far into the distance, far enough that Pinkie thought he might fly away. But that was ridiculous, humans couldn't fly! The beggar seemed to respond to the Element's crazy idea, light sparked into his eyes like he hadn't known hope in decades. “Maybe you can help me!”

“Sure!” Pinkie wasn't sure why she was agreeing, other than that it sounded fun. Besides, Granny Pie had taught her to always help ponies who need it, and this pony just happened to walk on two feet, but that didn't mean he was any different. Besides the foot count, of course. And the hand thing, and maybe the possible flying without wings.

“Take this hipbone and get to the Pelagius Wing of the Blue Palace.” The strange human thrust what appear to be a pelvis at the pony's mouth, before he turned and ran into one of the many alleys in the area. Pinkie looked at the bone, and back to the Blue Palace. Something clicked in her pink pony head, something wonderful and terrible.

“Well, I was heading there anyway!”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“Why didn't you tell anypony about being the grandson of a general?” Glade and Reman were occupying one of Castle Dour's many free beds. General Tullius had allowed them to take one of the fortress's rooms, if only for privacy.

“For the longest time, I didn't consider myself to be.” The statement was enough for the mare to roll on top of the Imperial. It went without saying that she was confused by her forebear's ancestral denial; family seemed so important to him. The lycan mare was also aware that her culture was vastly different from his, and a warrior's honor was likely to be far more important in Tamriel. “Being cursed to become a sub-human beast once a month does a lot for your perspective.”

“You shouldn't be so hard on yourself.” Glade settled under her forebear's arm, too interested in what the Imperial had to say to do anything else. A quiet squeak escape her as a hand rubbed over her still-flat stomach, a faint blush accompanied the noise as the mare glared at Reman. Something about that reminded her of something important. “What does this All Saints Day thing have to do with us.”

“The holiday has a special significance in my family.” The bleached pony looked at the man as though she had a question, which she obviously did, but her modesty forced her to remain silent. The Imperial chuckled as he ran his hand through Glade's dyed mane, an action that she enjoyed too much to admit. “Every Tullius is descended from two Imperial saints.”

“So are we going to have to fight in a tournament or something?” The lycan mare had noticed a few similarities between Imperial culture and that of medieval Equestria, and blood sport had played a large part in many of the period's festivals. Despite her attempts at being correct, Reman only laughed like he was looking at something completely out of place.

“Nothing so dangerous, we just need to visit the Crusader's Glade.” Glade looked at her forebear in slight amusement; she believed she understood what the Emperor had meant about irony. It was with this that the former guardspony decided on something.

“You have to tell me the story behind this.” Reman only shot her a flat look, before Glade countered with her best impression of a small puppy. The slightly-canine pony did the impersonation with startling accuracy, and the Imperial's defenses were left wanting. The experience lycan sighed, but gave in to his pack-mates demands.

“Alright, but no interruptions.”

@#@#Somewhere in Colovia, 3E 433@#@#

“Divines curse me.” Aurelius Tullius clutched the ebony dagger in his hand, his practiced grip held the blade steady even as his arm trembled. Yes, this clearing would do nicely; it was unlikely he would be found until long after he was little more than bones and rotted leather. The rain did little to stop the burning of tears in his eyes, not that he cared about a little extra pain. The Dark Brotherhood had promised so much, but all they did was curse him to immortality and give him guilt to last even longer. “Smite me, for I am unworthy of life.”

Aurelius considered himself many things, including a murderer, but even he had a line. His Sanctuary master had handed him a contract for a minor nobleman, some spoiled son of a warlord that thought he could do whatever he wanted. He sent his soul screaming into the Void, as ordered, but a hitch in the plan had sent the vampiric man's world crashing. The nobleman's son had come to his father's defense, a boy no more than eight had charged Aurelius with a wooden sword. It was only too late the assassin realized he had cut down a child. There were no consolations, only congratulations on a job done well and without hesitation.

With a fanged smile to the cloudy skies, the lost and damned plunged the finely-crafted blade into his chest.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“Wait, how could he have founded your house if he died before meeting Joan?” Glade wasn't quite sure how things worked in Tamriel, but a knife to the most vital of organs tended to end life rather abruptly. Again, Reman chuckled at her lack of information, but understood it was not her fault.

“In the moment of suicide, the Divines kept the blade from piercing his heart.” The lycan mare was unused to hearing her forebear speak about something with as much conviction as this. The Imperial hoisted himself and the pony into a sitting position, and looked like a teacher about to give the greatest lesson he could. “As Aurelius lay bleeding in the glade, Akatosh granted him a vision of the Chapel of Anvil, and the great danger that presented itself to the world.”

“Your gods seem to have a strange method of picking their champions.” Glade knew it was out of her area of knowledge, but she believed herself correct in the assumption. Her thoughts were only compounded by the Imperial's laughter.

“Indeed they do.” The lycan looked far into the distance, through the walls and past the sky, almost like her was looking for something. It was only after a few moments of silence that it became evident that Reman was thinking about how he fit into his own history. “Hard to think an abomination went on to be one of the greatest warriors in church history, isn't it?”

“The Divine Crusader, right?” Glade recalled what Rose had said weeks before, though the pegasus was almost certain the mystery mare had been Azura in disguise. In response to the correct guess, her forebear hugged tighter against his chest. “But, you haven't really answered my earlier question.”

“Right, sorry.” Reman rolled his eyes in mock sarcasm, but continued his story anyway. The lycan would be sure this tale would be what his child heard every night before falling asleep, his heir would still be a Tullius if all things went well in the summer. “Aurelius met Joan shortly after slaying Umaril the Unfeathered, when a gate to Oblivion had opened near the Priory of the Nine.”

“The what?” Glade cocked her head, unsure of the location's meaning or importance. Sure, she knew that her forebear worshiped nine gods, but the idea of a monastery devoted to all of them seemed strange. In Equestria's feudal days, nature worship had been commonplace, but each priory was devoted to only one deity.

“If you'd let me tell the entire story you would know, but suffice to say it was Aurelius's home.” The pegasus nodded in understanding, the lesson finally sinking home in her mind. “After he and Joan worked together for some time, including curing the Crusader of his vampirism, it was only natural for them to fall in love, so the story goes.”

“But how does the Crusader's Glade fall into this?” The pony by the same name hadn't been told yet, and Reman did not feel very comfortable explaining it to her just yet. The full extent of the story would have to wait until after the Imperial met his pack-mate's parents at the very least. But that didn't mean he wouldn't give her a hint.

“Let's just say they left quite the mark on the land.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

Pinkie would have wondered why her friends hadn't come looking for her, if she wasn't so sure she was completely lost. One second, she was in the Pelagius Wing of the Blue Palace, then she's suddenly in this misty woodland in Celestia know where. The Element of Laughter had even lost the creepy pelvis the madman had given her, but maybe its use had already expired. Maybe that was the key to get to this weird place; it felt like the Everfree Forest, but less filled with meanies. A noise made her stop. She heard a voice off in the distance, and she saw a small flickering light between the foggy trees.

Without a second thought, the pink party pony took off towards the voice. There was a clearing beyond the trees, with a large table set up in the middle. Pinkie wondered why anypony would have a picnic in such a spooky place. Really, what kind of party only had two ponies at it? But as she thought about the strange occasion, a better question entered her mind.

Why did she hear a Scotsman?