Skyrim seemed to have an abundance of wild plants and herbs, Twilight recognized quite a few specimens that she had seen hanging in Zecora's home. Pushing the thoughts of categorizing local flora aside, the Element of Magic looked forward, across the sweeping flatland before her. The group had gone around the cluster of mountains, the western side, of course, and Whiterun was over the horizon. Barring any unseen delay, the expedition would make it to the eastern wall by sunset.

“Glade, how's your stomach?” Luna was only asking because the lycan had been nauseated ever since she had woken up this morning. It was probably just something she ate, maybe it was the fish that had tried to eat her.

“I'll make it to Whiterun, I'm sure Reman will have some sort of remedy for it.” Glade was almost certain the her forebear knew most of the curious facets of lycanthropy, maybe even a few remedies for any ills that may plague werewolves. “Though I seem to recall him saying lycans can't get sick.”

“Maybe it's a virus you picked up in Equestria and it was just slow to develop.” Twilight wasn't a doctor, nor an expert on the supernatural, so she was just taking a blind poke at things. The lycan merely shrugged in response, clearly finished with the subject.

“I'm just glad the drama from yesterday is behind us.” Dash was still peeved about walking everywhere, but she was adapting. If anything, her hurting hooves bothered her the most, even more than being grounded. “By the way, where did you get the knife, Glade?”

“Found it.” The lycan mare shrugged, keeping the majority of the truth hidden away. Rainbow may have acted tough, but the concept of using a looted weapon would have turned her stomach.

“Lucky, staying strapped wouldn't be half bad.” Really, was the Element of Loyalty trying to talk like a Cloudsdale punk?

“Ah don' think keepin' a weapon out like that is a good idea.” Applejack didn't think that the locals would appreciate Glade carrying a knife around, especially in such an obvious location. The farmer wasn't certain of how people here behaved, or how they would react to certain things, especially open displays of aggression. “That's jus' askin' fer trouble.”

“Relax, we won't get into trouble.” Pinkie was smiling and bouncing along, intent on enjoying the foray into Tamriellic life. For reasons only known to the pink party pony, she stopped in her tracks. “Wait! What if we run into other werewolves, and they don't like sharp, pointy things?”

“What on earth are talking about, dear?” Even Rarity had trouble understanding Pinkie at times like this, and the gossip queen was adept at reading other ponies.

“Think about it!” The pink party pony appeared on the Element of Generosity's opposite side, having evidently discovered teleportation. “Reman used that glowy sword, and he only had it when he was fighting the deer-person, couldn't another werewolf think Glade's gonna want to fight if he sees the knife?”

“I'm a little worried that you may be onto something, Pinkie.” Luna wasn't thrilled about the prospect, to be light about it.

@#@#@#@#@#

Reman was more accustomed to respect when he was referred to by his family name, not the slight contempt that currently emanated from Vilkas. Kodlak, however, was taking it rather well, all things considered, even if the Harbinger had to speak with every witness about blabbing to any informants in Whiterun. Stormcloaks might try to kidnap the Imperial, and that many deaths should be avoided when possible, but it would be infinitely worse if they actually succeeded.

Ransom wouldn't get them anywhere, after all, Reman's family likely believed that he was dead. Lynette had known the Imperial had been bitten by a werewolf, maybe she had kept that secret under her hat. Regardless, a note claiming that Reman was alive would be seen as a low blow by his father, and the Imperial's mother would be out for blood. But if his grandfather found out, there would be no denying it.

Blood would be spilled over that supposedly dead son.

“I didn't know you'd ridden before.” Farkas had been sent with the Cyrodiil native, as a comrade to aid in this task's completion. Dustman's Cairn, and the fragment held within, a simple enough target. All Reman had to do was grab a piece of Ysgramor's ancient battleaxe, and all would be forgiven.

“All nobles in Cyrodiil learn equestrianism at an early age.” It was one lesson that the man had taken to, besides Conjuration magic, Reman had a talent for riding. The Imperial had modified his saddle so he could fire a bow while on horseback, a deadly technique that had been used by the Redguards for centuries. “One of the many benefits of being born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

“I'll think I'd take my ring of dirt any day.” The Nord had a simple way of things, and didn't want to burden his life with the complexities of noble birth. Humility was always a refreshing trait to find in a warrior. “But the crypt's just up this hill, maybe two minutes.”

“What can we expect inside?” Reman knew that was a stupid question, all Nord crypts held the same things. If the Imperial was lucky, he'd pocket quite a bit of treasure, after he killed a lot of draugr. Why the Nords insisted on placing their dead in tombs like these, Reman would never know. Wait, Skyrim's soil freezes in the winter, so this actually made sense. Still, it was horrible for the souls of the dead, the ancient Nords seemed so easy to disturb. “Scratch that, dumb question.”

“I don't see why you're acting scared, nothing we haven't seen before.”

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

It was made abundantly clear that the ponies had lucked out when it came to Hircine's choice of who to send to Equestria. At the moment, the diplomatic envoy observed a small interchange of differing opinions on who Skyrim belonged to. Everypony was horrified at the small skirmish playing out before them, twelve Imperial Legionnaires against eight Stormcloak soldiers. The fight was hardly even, but the humans in blue were holding their own against the superior numbers.

“What could have provoked a civil war?” Luna was pondering the possibilities, though a clear answer eluded her. The Princess didn't have a sample of the population to study, her only real view into Tamriel had come from Reman, and the Imperial was hardly an average subject.

“It could be any number of things, Griffins have these conflicts almost twice a decade.” Twilight had also studied foreign cultures, an attempt to grow more accustomed to the alien plane of Nirn. Like her other attempts, this one seemed to pay off.

“Did you see that hit?” Rainbow didn't seem too concerned about the political state of Skyrim or the Empire, the skirmish had her complete attention. The blow she referred to had knocked the helmet from an Legionnaire's head, and sent the steel-skinned warrior to the ground. The fighter's friend seemed to take offense, and seized revenge on the assaulting Nord. With a punch that made Glade's jaw hurt, the smaller human sent the one in blue into the air. A warhammer slammed into the lightly armored man's back, certainly shattering bone beneath the iron bludgeon. “That one had to hurt.”

“Cease!” A voice roared across the open fields, clear even from the ponies' perch, over one hundred yards away. The source was an Imperial, clad in steel Legion armor, standing in a passive and diplomatic posture. Much to Luna's surprise, both sides of the battle dropped their weapons, even helping each other up, it seemed the Imperial had worked some sort of miracle.

“How did he do that?” Rarity raised a pair of binoculars to her eyes, the magnifying lenses provided a clear view of the battlefield. Neatly trimmed, brown hair covered the man's head; a long scar ran form one ear, all the way to his mouth. But, the basic aesthetics of his face weren't what was amazing about the man. The Element of Generosity quietly gasped at the revelation. “Princess, you need to see this.”

Quickly, Luna moved the surveillance equipment to herself and tried to see what had startled the alabaster unicorn. She didn't have to search much at all. The Princess blinked, took a double take, even cleaned the lenses, but nothing could the truth of the situation. It was made abundantly clear that this was no normal Imperial, not by a long shot.

“I think we just saw Reman's doppelganger in action.”

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

Grandfather,

I am aware that you aren't one for pleasantries, no one in our family is. I am only troubling you because a certain Breton visited my camp yesterday, I'm certain you remember Lynette, Gaston Jemane's duaghter. Anyway, she gave me some wonderful news, though it came with more than a pinch of salt. According to her, Reman is still alive! After all theses years, he must have been traveling this entire time!

Now, for the bad news. You were in Kvatch at the time, so I know that you recall the incident. You and Mother seemed particularly devastated when the priest told us the beast was a werewolf, and Lynette had admitted that Reman had been bitten. Our fears have been confirmed with this revelation, and my brother now suffers from the affliction. Though, if Lynette is to be believed, there may still be hope.

It would seem that after she and her mother left for High Rock, Lynette joined the Silver Hand. If you didn't know, they're a group that hunts werewolves across High Rock and Skyrim. Apparently, Lynette's a lieutenant, in charge of a hunting party and everything. I wouldn't mention that if it wasn't important, and this detail is of the utmost necessity. Reman, while transformed, found and eradicated Lynette's camp, but left her alive. If my brother still remembers her, then there may be time enough to find a cure before he succumbs to the beast in full.

- Uriel