Skyrim: Reign

Chapter 3: The Empire

The village was in complete uproar. Fire raged from the houses that littered the edges of the settlement, and the smoke billowed upwards into the night sky, blocking out the moon and giving Rorikstead an air of darkness and mystery. Outside Reign's home, standing in the centre of the village, backed by the burning stable, stood a dozen Imperial soldiers with bright flaming torches in hand. Their thick leather armour yielded no reflection from their torch-light, and they're faces showed little emotion. At the centre of the gathering stood a soldier clad entirely in fitted steel armour, bearing the insignia of the Imperial Legion; the leader, a Legate.

His hair was shaved right back, so only the shortest amount coated his head. His Imperial face, the darker tone of Cyrodilic stock, bore thin eyes and a moustache that curved around his mouth into a small beard. His lips, thin and cracked from his time on the wastes, were twisted into an evil smile as he stared down at the mass infront of him. At the waist he wore an Imperial longsword, thick in the blade and long in the handle, and a short dagger with a curved blade that seemed to emanate a dark, purple glow. The scars that littered his arms showed he was not fresh to his post, a long sliver of rasied pink flesh crawled up his forearm, from wrist to elbow, marking a past battle. Upon the same wrist was tied a bracelet of thick leather adorned with a series of black gems, the likes of which Reign did not recognise, which also offered the same hugh of purple as the dagger blade. At the Commander's feet lay Reign's mother, still in her nightwear and screaming of her innocence, her face thick with anger and coated with tears. Reign felt his stomach twist. Why? What had she done?! 

The gale tore at the soldiers torches as the rest of the village rushed to view the commotion. The men seemed uneasy, as though their orders were not right. Yet, none of them stirred against the commander, and Reign could see why; many of the soldiers were young, too young to have tasted real combat. Reign tensed in preparation for a fight, scanning the ground for anything he could use as a weapon, but he realised he would have no hope of surviving, and he himself would only make the situation worse. His mind raced to his memories of his father's centurion; if only they had the pieces now, he thought to himself as the events unfolded. Anger bubbled inside his stomach, yet he felt so helpless as he watched his own mother writhing around, the Legate tugging at her hair so that the gathering crowd could see her face clearly. He threw her to the ground at his feet, and ordered one of his men to bind her hands. Men ran to fetch water to dampen the blaze of the stables, hoping to stop the fire from spreading.

"This woman has been found to break the laws of the White-Gold Concordat! She has been worshipping the false God, Talos, despite it having been outlawed by the Empire which rules these lands! This crime is not taken lightly, and she will be punished severely!" As soon as the Legate's gruff voice left his lips, the whole crowd fell silent; the whole crowd, save Reign's father, screaming insults and curses at the soldiers. Reign grabbed him to stop him doign something stupid, the whole time his own mind searching for the answer to this, but to no avail. The leader turned back to Reign's mother, filling him with terror, and his chest tightened. His cheeks became wet with tears. He dared not look at his father struggling against his strong arms, who's protests were loudest. Reign could sense that his father knew his wife's fate.

Reign's only thoughts were of confusion. How had they found out about his mother, the least suspicious of all people, a proud and noble woman, worshipping Talos? Was it really true, that she was? Reign had always held his mother as a follower of the old Nord ways from before the Great War with the Dominion, but treachery? She was no Stormcloak, yet Reign sensed in himself that this couldn't be false. His mother would not settle for false accusations against her, she was no liar. "Do you have any last words?" The legate leaned in and sneered at the helpless women by his feet. Shrugging him off, she composed herself as much as possible, and Reign's confusion was pushed aside. She arose, her figure contrasting against the burning buildings. In a choked, yet deeply proud voice, she stared straight into the eyes of the steel-clad soldier before her and spoke. "Not to you, Imperial fool, not even to your false Emporer! I am to be punished for worshipping as my parents did? As your parents did? You and your Elf overlords may have renounced your gods, but I shall never renounce mine. Long live Talos and the true way of the Nords!" The crowd roared in triumph at her, but Reign fought back more tears; no one could do anything, and his thoughts flashed to the twins; how would he and their father raise them without a mother?  

His mother knelt back on the path, and bowed her head. Grief tore at Reign's throat as he watched, helpless and frightened. His mother whispered, more to herself than to the Legate bearing down on her, "You cannot take this away from me. My gods are proud of me, can you say the same?". Before Reign even knew what had happened, the legate was on top of her, burying his knife into her chest, right where her proud heart was, grinning profusely. Reign's body began to shake, and he groaned as the helplessness was replaced with uncontrollable grief. His father had fallen completely silent, and had collapsed to the cold stone floor. Before her last breath left her, Reign's mother's eyes found him in the crowd, and she smiled. Words that she had spoken to him as a child echoed in his mind. Do not forget who you are Reign. A true Nord always follows his heart. The smile died on her lips, and her hopeless face stared blankly; where there had once been joy, now lay only emptiness.  

"Let this serve as a grave lesson to you all! Talos worship shall be cut out of Skyrim like the disease that it is!" The Imperial Legate screamed, dropping the corpse, with the knife still buried in the chest, and turned and walked away. The lifeless eyes burned into Reign, and he felt himself losing strength. Just before his head hit the cobbled street, Reign could swear he saw a glow leave his mother's body, and heard the laughter of the Legate as he climbed atop his horse and galloped off into the windy and barren wasteland, his sodiers in tow bearing their torches against the wind. As darkness swelled aroung him, thunder cracked in the sky, and Reign felt the droplets of rain.