Uriel Tullius was elated that morning, reveling in yesterday's victory. Even the cold, stone halls of Castle Dour could do nothing to lessen his joy as he went about waking the garrisoned troops. The rank and file Legionnaires were already up and about, kept to a strict schedule that required no interference from the higher-ups. The rest of the Imperial's family, as well as the ponies currently staying within the impregnable fortress, were a completely different story. The negotiator's fist needed to tap against each wooden door but once for its respective resident to awaken.

“Ah, Uriel, so nice to see you this morning.” Princess Luna's voice was quite the surprise, given the hall's relative silence. The blue alicorn kept herself aloft, flying so her eyes were level with the average Imperial. “I trust you have reminded everypony that we're leaving at noon?”

“That was not a duty assigned to me.” The captain was fairly certain the mare was casually joking, though serious about the change in locale. In roughly five hours, Reman would escort them back to their entry portal, which was kept a secret from everyone for matters of international security. The nobleman actually missed the days when politics were simple enough to guess what would happen. “But I'll be sure to pass word along, princess.”

“Well, it would appear you only have one door left, captain.” The royal equine had a half-smirk on her face. Princess Luna had clearly enjoyed yesterday's boxing match, even if the outcome had been an utter shock for anyone on four legs. The scarred Imperial gave the mare a flat look, completely unaffected by the obvious prank he was about to suffer. “Well, jump to.”

“I had two older brothers growing up, don't you think every joke in the book has been pulled on me by now?” Uriel remembered a particularly nasty trick Julius had played on him that involved a fake ring from Morrowind, and the angry Dunmer that came looking for it. Eight hours into the ruse, Antonius had been kind enough to point out that the Ashborn was actually one of Julius's friends from Kvatch. Confidently, the Legionnaire cracked the door latch, giving the unlocked door the gentlest of pushes.

The iron and wood door slammed open as a hulking, black mass shot from within the murky room. In an instant, the negotiator was pinned to the floor, staring into the golden eyes of a monster. After a moment that seemed like eternity, the beast's maw opened wider than any mouth had the right to, and issued a roar deep enough to make Uriel's teeth rattle. The Legionnaire had never seen a werewolf, but the legends said they resembled creatures such as this. Another, lighter beast entered the sides of his vision, giving its own howl. The brown one must have been female, because its call was far more piercing than the bassy, throaty rumble that came from its pack-mate.

Somewhere in the noise, Uriel himself started to scream along with the monsters. His arms were pinned to his side by a massive pair of clawed hands, keeping him from even attempting a retaliation. After a single moment, the sound suddenly ceased, leaving only the man's voice penetrating the air. A giggle came from the side, followed by another, and quickly tailed by the laughter of seven women. Even the werewolves that had been so quick to attack were now making their own undulating vocalizations, grinning from pointed, elven ear to pointed, elven ear. It took only a moment longer for the Imperial captain to realize who the beasts were.

“You son of a bitch!”

“Aren't the two of you twins?” Pinkie called from the side, wiping her tears with a hoof. The former rock farmer had her Wabbajack strapped to her back, which drew stares but elicited no verbal response form anypony. The mare was actually going to talk to Reman about her run-in with Sheogorath, but the joke he was playing on Uriel was too funny to pass up. Everything about the Imperials was funny, once the bubbly pony looked past the powder keg that could ignite into a fiery genocide at any moment. At calling his own mother a bitch, Uriel Tullius's cheeks reddened in both embarrassment and anger.

“I've never seen anypony get served by Pinkie.” Rainbow Dash had landed to avoid falling as she doubled over with laughter, completely enraptured by the surprisingly-simple prank. Ambush jokes were childish, yes, but this one had actual monsters and real fear, so that was cool. However, the polychromatic mare clearly observed the captain's shortening temper even as the two lycans retreated to their room, laughing in an unnaturally deep tone.

“Um, maybe we shouldn't laugh at him; he seemed kinda scared.” Fluttershy gave the Legionnaire a sympathetic look, though she took steps not to seem condescending. The books she had looked at during her stay in the Dwemer outpost had suggested Imperials had very sensitive egos, and pity from an outsider was very painful. The clean-cut soldier gave her an understanding, though near-imperceptible nod.

“Yes, we should focus on getting back to the portal.” Princess Luna felt the need to shuffle things forward, if only because there was now a half-hour before the party would begin their return journey. Sneaking Glade onto a carriage was easy, but doing it while she was in her beast form would be much more trying. The roadblock in Whiterun had given the alicorn evidence enough to conclude the scent of a transformed werewolf was enough to spook the strange equines the humans used as beasts of burden, and no amount of gemstones would buy the silence of someone out such a large investment. “Remember that we represent Equestria, and not some kingdom of foals.”

“Eh, Princess, we technically are.” Applejack had not meant to come across as a snarker, though she very nearly did. The farmer was given a very flat look in return, but there was an almost amused quality in the royal's eyes.

“Nuances of Equestria aside, it's time for me to return to the troops.” Uriel gave a curt bow and stepped from the cramped hallway. The Imperial was certain that if his brother were in the corridor, Reman would have been able to see his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs. Already, the negotiator was planning to take leave to Cyrodiil; there was a lieutenant who could take command while he was visiting home. The Tullius had been raised to be punctual, and so had his twin. It would take the Emperor three weeks to reach Anvil, plus eight days by carriage to reach the Imperial City. This gave Uriel a total of twenty-nine days to reach County Kvatch.

“As nice as a change Uriel is, he can be quite rude sometimes.” Rarity wasn't truly offended; she rather understood the need for proper scheduling in any military, though there was still a certain level of decency expected of an officer. Like Twilight, the alabaster unicorn would be returning home with a few books in tow. The Element of Generosity had gotten her hooves on a few concept books from Radiant Raiments, which Lynette had been so kind to lift, as she had put it, from the High Elves that owned the clothing store. The magic-wielder rather respected the mer if they could make such wonderfully baroque fashions, all these Great War things aside. “At least Reman is courteous enough to be blunt during first impressions.”

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

The Imperial Legion was very different from any local militia, if only for its lack of chaplains. There were a few spattered here and there, but the mighty army mainly relied on idols and amulets carried by individual Legionnaires. The practice led to an odd number of icons relating to Akatosh and Mara being spread across the continent, though it also included talismans and horns consecrated to the worship of Talos scattering during the Great War. The Amulet of Talos Antonius bore around his neck was one such item of contraband, and a side of him felt both rebellious and righteous in wearing it beneath his clothes. The aging Imperial placed a few septims on an altar to Zenithar, thanking the god for his family's continued prosperity.

Antonius Tullius moved to another shrine. Mara, goddess of platonic and familial love; she so loved the ten races that she gave them the ability to love, and to be loved in turn. It was easy for the legate to find something to be thankful for, and a dozen or so gold coins were neatly stacked in gratitude. The Legionnaire's prayer was bit longer than those to the other Divines so far, given that between one and three members had been added to his family. Despite his somewhat-hostile attitude, he rather liked the spunky little equine; she would have made a fine catch were she an Imperial or Redguard, and Gaston Jemane would probably have needed to find a new suitor for his daughter.

The next Divine on his list was Dibella, goddess of romantic love and carnal relations. There wasn't much the man could ask of the Divine, given that he now had a grandchild on the way and his own equipment still seemed in serviceable shape. The legate briefly considered sending a week's pay to bend the goddess's ear and hopefully send matches for his other children. The aging Imperial chuckled a bit to himself, momentarily entertaining a rather ludicrous idea about Uriel and the colorful visitors from another realm. Upon a second consideration, that was truly a terrible thought.

Solitude's chapel had not ordered it shrines in such a way that Antonius's pattern was done linearly. It was a Tullius tradition to follow the order in which Aurelius had visited the wayshrines on his holy pilgrimage to become the Divine Crusader and reform the Knights of the Nine. The order still existed in Cyrodiil, its monks sequestered to the Priory of the Nine, forever in study and worship. The Aldmeri Dominion had forced the guild to rename itself and its holiest sanctum, even the very relics it contained, after the worship of Talos was banned. Bitterly, the knight nodded to the empty base, stopping only to see if any of the clergy had their eyes upon him.

The officer considered asking his father for permission to take leave for Cyrodiil for a week or so to shake the cold out of his bones. Thinking on that note, Marcus could have used a vacation as well.

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

“Renoir, you can get out of that ridiculous getup now.” Reman gave his associate an almost stern look and tossed him a bundle of cloth. The armored Breton effortlessly caught the clothing, nearly tearing the fabrics in his hands as he realized what they were. “Your pain in the neck brought them to me before dawn.”

“I really need a new lover.” The mage took off his stolen helmet and shook his head, mostly trying to get his neck to loosen. The vampire wouldn't strip in front of his comrade; they were friendly, yes, but there were certain lines neither bachelor would ever cross. It was odd how often it came up around the College, fueled by rumors spread by the apprentices of the respective fields both men studied. Renoir's fingers brushed against a hard, rectangular shape beneath the layers of cloth. “I wasn't wearing boots yesterday.”

“Unwrap it first, conjurer.” Reman smirked at his own joke, knowing full well his colleague was completely hopeless in Conjuration. Thankfully, the scholarly vampire understood there was a good reason for the Imperial's childish antics, and promptly followed instructions. Renoir nearly gasped as he saw the purple tome, hoping his eyes didn't deceive him. Few things in life could surprise the near-century old man, but the arcane knowledge he held in his hands certainly qualified.

“Is this what I think it is?” There was an almost boyish glee in the vampire's voice. Reman's nod nearly caused a small seizure, but the nobleman maintained his composure well enough to fully comprehend the priceless item's true value. “How did you even get this?”

“The bookies were done with it, so I called in a favor before I went to Equestria. Turns out Skyrim's couriers are very serious about their jobs.” The spellsword shrugged, weaving magicka over his arms as he did so. His spellcraft wouldn't be at his previous level for some time, but progress was steady. The procured literature was actually perfectly useful, given its nature within Conjuration and the innovative nature. Despite the negative stigma surrounding its writer's name, the notebook was full of new and inventive ways of working magicka. “This is only a decoded copy; we both know there was no way the archmage would allow me to have the original on hand.”

“What do you even need this for?” Renoir knew his question was a bit foolish, but it still made sense. There was no need for the Imperial to study the book's contents, given his particular branch of Conjuration study. Genius writer or no, the fact remained that the knowledge contained within this ledger was unique and extremely dangerous to the unwary. “You don't have permission to have this, do you?”

“Like I said, I called in a favor.” Reman had actually acquired a reputation as a student eager to endanger himself in the name of knowledge, though that was mainly to find a cure for his lycanthropy. The regeneration he had possessed was renowned within Winterhold, and both the Jarl and archmage knew about his werewolf nature. “Did you know Twilight had an encounter with Mora?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Renoir knew the book was from before Reman's little vacation, so there was no reason to mention Twilight without some ulterior motive. Study had been the most important thing on his mind then, and because of Conjurer's Folly, the Imperial couldn't put half of the knowledge to use. There was no such contact until recently, and the Element was too inexperienced to utilize it, so what was the reason? “Anything else you need to tell me?”

“Yeah, Glade may have been visited by Azura if my theory is correct, Twilight had a run-in Herma Mora, and Pinkie has the Wabbajack. These ponies are talking to Daedra left and right.”

“I hate it when you do things like that.”

Author's Notes:

Anyone care to wager what's in the book?