County Chorrol took up the majority of the Colovian Highlands, making it a hilly, mountainous region that bordered both Hammerfell and Skyrim; it boasted few areas for large farms, dense woodlands, and plentiful ore reserves. If one ignored the monsters in the woods, the bandits camps, and stink of roadside manure, it could be quite pleasant. For all its serenity, broken only by the endless games of predator and prey, the peaceful birdsong ended as one left the trees and stepped onto the stone of the mountains. The regions north and west or Chorrol, where the soil and air were thin, were mostly uninhabited; the borders between Cyrodiil, Hammerfell, and Skyrim were ill-defined there, full of territory all three provinces claimed, but did not use.

The shared mountain range was crisscrossed with hundreds of paths beaten into the ground over countless centuries; few of them received much traffic aside from the occasional merchant or intrepid adventurer, and fewer still bore people of importance along. That spring day, a path that ran mostly downhill carried twelve ponies, two werewolves, a vampire, and an immortal along their way, neatly wrapped in a wooden box that careened over the meaningless, drawn borders faster than any horse-drawn carriage had a right to. Wreathed in a magical barrier, the wagon smashed through brush, low-hanging tree branches, and small boulders alike as a new banner fluttered in the wind. A noble son of House Tullius entered his homeland with a show worthy of his ancestors.

Rainbow Dash and Summer Glade flew ahead of the carriage, tethered to each other and their friends by a length of strong rope. Together, they provided propulsion when inertia failed, provided direction where the road turned suddenly. Down below, Renoir Belmont and Reman Tullius manned a toothed steering wheel Celestia had brought along, commandeered from an old airship that had belonged to her for a number of years. At the speeds they traveled, it took their combined, unnatural might to keep control, as well as Bitter Springs to put them back on all four wheels whenever the pegasi forgot to warn them of a sharp turn. Behind the trio, Twilight Sparkle maintained the shield through every impact it sustained, powered by her desire to learn, to experience, everything Cyrodiil had to offer a mage like herself. Together, the six adventurers guided their journey relatively safely.

Rainbow flicked a hoof to her right, and the two humans steered the carriage in turn, popping up on two wheels as the massive carriage won a fight against gravity, only to be slammed back down as the need for stability outweighed nature’s desires. Looking ahead, the two fliers slowed and descended; this meant they were approaching flat land, the forests and grasslands Reman had described in detail. The laws of motion took hold and the gilded carriage trudged to a slow stop right as they entered what maps called County Chorrol, even if some of the more zealous locals said the border was much farther than that.

The imperial sniffed the air, almost unbelieving he was finally in his homeland once more; a scent on the breeze stirred his blood, a mixture of soil and wildflowers native to Colovia, smells he’d spent his childhood around. For Glade, she could only feel the vestigial nostalgia her shared bloodline allowed her; for a brief moment, she wondered if Reman would feel the same in Zenammu’s home, or even if it carried to her as well. “Glad to be home, big guy?” she asked, nudging his shoulder. For once, the man was out of his armor and wore open, breathable clothing that allowed him a full range of motion, and the added bonus of being able to sweat without becoming a beacon of stink.

“More than you know,” he replied, pulling her close. More than a small part of him wished to throw off his boots and feel Cyrodiil beneath his bare feet once more, but there were more important things to do than sate some urge.

“It’s surprisingly humid,” Springs said, looking a bit peaked under the bright sun. He was entirely correct; the soil was soft from a recent rain, and the air was muggy and sticky, if prettied up by floral scents. “We aren’t too far north in Cyrodiil, are we?”

“We’re around the middle, actually,” the imperial replied, shrugging. Personally, he loved the warmth, the wetness that clinged to the skin after a spring rain; imperials, like redguards, were made for the heat, not the bitter cold of Skyrim. “It gets a bit more mild around the Heartlands, but gets worse nearer to the coasts and Elsweyr.” Reman paused for a moment to look at his banner; he was quite fond of it, for all the things it implied. “In case you get to missing Skyrim, Bruma is to the far north, and it’s more nord than imperial.”

“I think we’ve seen enough of Skyrim for a while,” Twilight joked, hopping down from her perch. In truth, she was happy to be away from the snowy province, but at the same time, she felt there was more than a little unfinished business to attend to. She yawned as she reached the shade of a nearby tree, before sitting down to rest. “Magic takes a lot out of a unicorn, how about we stop for lunch before we head on?”

“Did somepony say lunch?” Pinkie shouted, sticking her head through a window. On her head was a little bundle of sweet smelling pastries. “These were meant to be cookies, but something went wrong, so now we have little cakes instead!”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Rainbow Dash agreed; her stomach growled in agreement as the smell of the cakes hit her nose. What she needed was calories, and sweets were a great way of getting them. “There’s a settlement just over the horizon, so we can pig out and resupply tomorrow.”

_-_-_-_-_

The merchant fell to his knees and whimpered; his guards, drivers, and assistants were either dead or long gone. This road was meant to be safe, regularly patrolled by the legion, but even in broad daylight, his caravan had been attacked; even as he cowered under the gaze of two brigands, his wares were thrown about. The bandits were professionals, skipping the heavier things for inconspicuous and lightweight items; they were incredibly organized in their thefts, snatching spices and precious stones before coming back for larger things. Everything they stole was tossed into small carts, even the caravan’s rations, and the trader knew he would be left with nothing of real worth when they were done.

He tried in vain to pull away as two of the bandits grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet; he went limp, but the dragged him in front of his personal carriage. The bandits’ leader was a scarred redguard clad in steel armor; he did not look like a pleasant sort, and the way he scowled would have scared the bladder control out of the merchant had he not lost it minutes before. “Please don’t hurt me,” the trader begged, lowering his head in submission. “I won’t tell anyone about this!”

“Keep your damn voice down!” one of the bandits in the trees grunted while looking off into the distance. “We got a banner a ways off, but you never know if they got scouts.” The lithe man hopped down from his perch nearly silently before sauntering over to his leader. “Now, you’re gonna keep your voice down while he boss decides what happens next.”

_-_-_-_-_

Lunch turned into an early dinner as the group relaxed in the shade; it was a rare moment when everyone was free of armor or protective clothing. Whether they relaxed in the sun or shade, they were at peace for the time being. The was no violence, no death, and nothing at all wrong with the world for those few hours; storytelling, magic lessons, and casual banter ruled the afternoon alongside full bellies and tired eyes. Fluttershy, Glade, and Rainbow found common ground as they sunned on a nearby hill; Applejack and Pinkie Pie used a nearby stream to clean themselves and swim, though not before checking for slaughterfish; Twilight convinced Rarity to sit in on one of her lessons, and both unicorns sat in rapt attention as Reman explained the process of using Alteration magic to turn iron into silver and then into gold. Princess Celestia sat nearby, flanked by her guards and the carriage drivers, happy to see Reman was not using a legal loophole to teach Twilight forbidden magic and instead focusing on more specialized, practical uses of spellcraft.

Renoir, as was his prerogative, was alone in the forest, searching for useful plants; he had plenty enough after a couple hours of foraging, but it never hurt to have a few extra reagents on hand. He learned a bit of chemistry while in Equestria, and wondered if he could use a flask and some poison or acid as a makeshift grenade, as the book had called it; if he wished to experiment, he needed a surplus of toxins, and the only way to get ahold of that would be personal collection. He was in a bit of a rush, and while he had no wish to miss anything potent, he knew he was expected back soon, and he wasted no time in making sure ingredients were harvested in a way that left the source unharmed. He reached under a boulder to grab a sample of stinkhorn when a particular smell hit his nose.

There was blood in the air, human, spilled within the past few hours; it set an edge to his appetite, and he wondered if she should investigate or return to the others. It was a lot of blood and it was possible whoever it belonged too was dead, but there was a chance for multiple victims with severe injuries that needed immediate attention. The logical part of his mind warned of a trap, but the part that had been trained as a healer said to offer his aid. He shook his head, stuffing the mushroom cap into his satchel as he found the direction the scent wafted from; there was a possibility he would grow to regret this, but he did not care overmuch. The vampire hurried along as quickly and quietly as he could; the closer he got, the greater the stench became, until it eclipsed every other scent in the area.

Eventually, he found the grisly scene: a dozen men and women, all dead, goods scattered around like a giant child threw a tantrum, and enough blood to lend credibility to a serious engagement. This was a merchant caravan, sacked by bandits, and professional ones if the meticulous nature of their raid was anything to go by. There were fewer signs of a struggle as he approached the middlemost carriage, where the owner and most valuable items were kept. There was a slight rustle inside, something larger than a dog, but quite enough to only be human. If there was a survivor, he or she needed help, and thinking nothing of the consequences, Renoir jammed his knife under the latch on the door.

A fat man tumbled out as the door flew open; he was the very image of opulence, dressed in heavy furs that seemed at odds with the bandits’ motives, but devoid of all jewelry, despite the piercing holes in his ears and dents on his fingers from wearing too many rings. Unpleasant smells hit the vampire’s nose as he realized why they left the clothes, but soiled or not, the merchant was a survivor of a brutal and efficient bandit attack. Renoir pulled the portly peddler to his feet, only to gasp as he fell down once more, screaming into a cloth gag he had not seen at first. The merchant's legs were broken at the knee, his arms were bound behind his back, and he was gagged to keep him from screaming; he must have cooperated enough for the bandits to allow him to live, but they certainly did him no favors in helping his odds of survival.

Tossing the man over his shoulder, careful not to smear anything over his armor, Renoir trudged up the road.

_-_-_-_-_

Not two hours later, the caravan was made into a campsite, the bodies were bagged and placed in a separate wagon several yards from the main campsite, and the merchant was drugged into a coma. The carriages served as a protective ring around their wagon, and had been stripped of most of their remaining goods; the trader had insisted they be compensated for saving his life, and no one turned down the prospect of luxury goods. At first light tomorrow, they would get the man to Chorrol, but for the time being, they hunkered down and pondered what to do.

“What if they come back?” Fluttershy asked in a hushed whisper as she placed more kindling into the firepit. It was nearly sundown, and while they were only a dozen or so miles from the nearest settlement.

“They already hit this place once,” Springs consoled as best he could. The stallion hugged the Element bearer before he continued. “Hitting the same place twice makes no sense if they already have everything they need.”

“No, they don’t,” Reman grunted, nodding his head over to the wagon they stored excess goods in. He was still unarmored, but had his sword at his hip again, so he was relaxed enough to speak freely. “They were in a rush; something must have had them spooked enough to clear out without the armors.” Despite the frequency one saw people wearing suits of metal, non-organic armor was expensive to buy and difficult to make properly, and there was a lot of iron and steel laying around. “The weapons are all taken, but with how much the average breastplate weighs, they couldn’t get away quickly if they took everything.”

There were cart tracks for hauling things,” Steel Marrow said in agreement. They probably could have taken everything, but stopped to deal with the merchant.”

“There is no need to scare everypony,” Celestia scolded, “and even if they did not, why would they come back if they see others here?” She was in no mood to allow her little ponies to sleep in fear, and threw tact out the proverbial window.

“SIlence,” Twilight answered, hating herself for knowing it to be true. Knowledge was better than solace, in any event; peaceful rest would do them no good if bandits sneaked into their camp, and there were only so many of them against an unknown number of robbers. “If we saw this, then we know about the attack, and we can tell somepony.”

“Houses Redding and Trevinici would definitely step in if this came to light,” the imperial added, looking into the shadows of the woods for any threat. Neither clan could take the shame of allowing such an outfit to operate for as long as this one had. They were led by an experienced veteran, if nothing else, and that made them a cunning, dangerous foe in the dark.

“Then we speak to authorities in the morning,” the princess resolved, allowing no arguments. She did not like the idea of doing battle so soon, especially not when it had the chance of attracting a noble clan’s attention. “They can search the forest for them and be done with it.”

“While the bandits get a warning and flee,” Reman argued. The others had since taken notice, and many of them looked on as the two defended their positions. “I’m not saying we fight, but we should at least find out where they are hiding.”

“You speak as thought you know their every move.”

“The first battle I ever led men in was against an outfit like this. They’re professionals, and they don’t do things by half.” The imperial leaned forward and looked the alicorn in the eyes. “This is not a matter of if they come back, but of when.”

“As much as I dislike agreeing with Reman, he may be right,” Renoir said as he poured water into a flask of plant extract. It was his first attempt at a throwing weapon, and so far seemed like it would work. “We need to at least find their hideout. No need for a full-on attack, but Clan Belmont used to keep vampires holed up while reinforcements arrived. One or two of us could stay in the forest and harass them too much for them to leave while the Chorrol guard moves in to finish the job.”

“Now you’re just arguing for the sake of arguing.” Celestia was not at all pleased by the turn of events. She did not have either human pegged as a fool, but even then, they were ready to rush off towards danger they could avoid. Even she herself would only send well-equipped soldiers to deal with a threat like this, and they were sorely lacking in that department all around. “Do you even have a plan for this madness?”

“Of course,” Reman said with a sarcastic smile. “Despite what you may think, I take no pleasure in this idea, but this simply must be done or we risk not only our lives but the lives of anyone using this road.” He shivered a bit at the thought of what he was doing, especially when he reminded himself of his previous attempt at Conjuration magic. “Twilight, if you can go against your teacher’s wishes, I’d like your help on this; it’ll be good practice, if a bit unsavory.”

The unicorn in question looked to the princess, silently asking if it was okay to want to say yes. She loved Celestia like a second mother, and in many ways, she was, but every child needed to grow from their parents, and this magic was similar to her friendship studies in that regard. Hesitantly, the older mare nodded, almost sad having to say yes, letting Twilight pursue her own goals in a land of different ideals and laws. The purple pony smiled in return, making a mental not to make it up to her mentor later. “Just tell me what we need to do.”

“We’re going to follow Mannimarco’s notes and perform some deep magic to give us an edge.”

Author's Notes:

I'm unsure if I should put graphic gore in the next chapter or leave it about as gory as Renoir's dissection.