In a certain cave used by the Thieves Guild near the beach of Skywatch, a certain beach cabin appeared with two Altmer standing behind preparing drinks while a Redguard, an Ohmes-Raht and a Cat were having a heated conversation about something. At the furthest stool, a Khajiit with a large glorious mane and a Nord with a temple-shaved hair and a rough look sat together conversing in a low tone.

"So, the High Fluff himself is delivering a message for me."

"Please don't call this one that. Also, you are the one who should have changed your mailing address to where you are now."

"Wha! I understand I was doing you and your people a favor. Why else would I go through all this effort to cause trouble for a full year?"

"I remember you saying that it was about having fun."

"Everything is about having fun or I won't do it."

From what it seemed, Jon wasn't just in Summerset without the knowledge of the Mane and the other big shots from a certain faction in the Dominion Government. The Thalmor were the ruling government that enforces all kinds of laws while the Spiritual Leaders such as the Mane, the Green Lady and the Silvenar were being pushed aside and reduced to mere advisors to the Thalmor Government.

The Thalmor had a very nasty way with ruling. The would forcefully enlist the people of the Dominion in the Military Service, discriminate against foreigners, do arrests based on uncertain charges and establish harsh trials. Even gatherings of people for no reason were seen as a crime and the Thalmor would disperse them by force.

This was not being done because the Thalmor were grumpy or anything of the sort, the only reason they have done that was because of the fragile inner economy and the unhealthy clashes in the beliefs of the three cultures. Containing the situation was hard and suppressing the carefree Khajiit, the superstitious Bosmer and the xenophobic Altmer took a toll on the inner management. Also, from the point of view of a Dominion Citizen, the Great War was a loss that ended up with the full destruction of the frontal armies of the Dominion causing a lot of distrust towards the Thalmor who kept declaring their intentions to build more armies during the past 26 years.

The inner tension was great and the Spiritual Leaders' Faction in the Dominion wanted to gain political leverage against the Thalmor's Governing Faction. Jon spent the past year as a hired agent to start trouble for the Thalmor and do some changes regarding the public's view towards them. His loud parties served the purpose and showed how incapable the government was to stop a single troublemaker.

With the Revolts and Resistance movements started to appear in Elsweyr and Valenwood to limit the Thalmor's influence, things went wrong for the Thalmor on many fronts causing them to make a lot of mistakes that Jon's allies used in their cause.

"As a troublemaker for hire, I am proud of my brand. Mixing fun with politics never felt so good." Jon said.

"You are still causing major figures to be upset by that Skooma trade you started." Mane Topaz said.

"Do they know who I really am?"

"No. Your identity is a secret."

"Then you haven't seen them upset just yet."

"Maybe you are right. It is a major offense to cooperate with the Thalmor's number 2 enemy."

"Dammit, I am number 1!"

"Sorry, you still can't have it."

Jon was upset as he turned around and saw Mirren and Miranda laughing at him.

"I'll beat you to it." He said.

"By all means."

"Be our guest."

As the two are the most threatening existence to the Thalmor as the last two members of Clan Arana that ruled the Isles for centuries, it seemed that there is no beating them to the number 1 spot.

"Anyway, this one was to deliver that message to you and wish you luck. You have done a lot for us in the past year. This one thanks you." The Mane said as he patted Jon's shoulder.

"Anything for the High Fluff."

"Then it is farewell."

The Mane and the Moon Bishop left Jon and his team in the cave and the group gathered around Jon as he opened the letter that was signed by "V.V." implying it was sent by Vittoria.

"Dearest Jon. I hope you are in good health as my writing reaches you...... I arrived at Winterhold and delivered the letters then Alina lent me the fastest ship in the Dare Fleet to travel to Solitude in four days, I arrived on the 15th of Morning Star 4E 201, the initial day of the High King's Tournament…

***

« Three Months Ago - 15th of Morning Star (January), 4E 201 - Solitude's Blue Palace, Skyrim »

"Friends and young Heroes, I bid you welcome and thank you for arriving for my Birthday's Celebration once again this year." High King Torygg stood under his shed inviting the guests to the banquet and spoke in the people attending the party.

The mead flowed like rivers and the meat was served in platters displaying the wealth and generosity of Western Skyrim. King Torygg was a man with an unquestionable honor which compensated for his other shortcomings but he was loved in his Hold. If he invited the rich to a banquet then he will also feed the poor before the night passes. No good man would sleep bloated knowing his neighbor beside him sleeps hungry and do nothing about it.

Still, the political situation was in disarray. Attending the Tournament this year were the Jarls and the Clans of Haafingar, Whiterun, Hjaalmarch, Falkreath, the Reach and Winterhold. This was the second year for Eastmarch, the Pale and the Rift to not send a single person.

The old holds except for the rising Winterhold were clearly revolting, Whiterun and Winterhold were clearly showing signs of not interfering while Hjaalmarch, Falkreath and the Reach showed their support to Haafingar and High King Torygg.

The true purpose of this yearly tournament was to show how united the holds are in front of the foreign guests. This was the second year that the King was embarrassed by the Old Holds like this.

Vittoria Vici were among the attending guests and she could see the restlessness in the eyes of some Nords. In Jon's letter to her, he asked her to attend the High King's Tournament but stay away from the High King and the other Jarls. He didn't say exactly what may happen but he just wanted her to be his eyes in the place.

As a member of the high community, Vittoria could easily find a place to sit wherever she wanted and her location was having a good view of the fighting ring.

What is unusual about this year's tournament was its location. Every year, it would be held in Castle Duar but this year for the low numbers of the participants, it was held in the palace or so the public story went. Vittoria figured out that the Legion limited access to the Castle. It meant that the Empire is probably hiding something inside and wants to limit the prying eyes. The question in Vittoria's head right now was how could Jon find out about this a year and a half ago.

Still, as she was about to sip on her favorite spiced wine to heal the cold shivers of this winter, an announcement caused a greater chilling shiver to shake not only her but almost every person in the palace.

"Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Eastmarch has arrived!"

The voice of the Nord Herald rang through the walls of the palace as all other voices gradually died down. It was the most unexpected announcement to everyone even to the High King who was questioning his Court Mage of what was the meaning of this.

Ulfric Stormcloak came unannounced. No one of the scouts or the guards along the way warned about his sudden arrival. This was the very definition of alarming.

Ulfric Stormcloak's arrival was a few seconds following the call of the Herald, he walked in alone with an imposing domineer that suffocated the entire palace. It wasn't anything like Aura or Magicka but the man had a presence and charisma to himself that was clearly of a man who has been through years of war and bloodshed.

The few individuals who withstood his presence were the Jarls who had enough presence to look back at Ulfric right in the eyes, unfortunately, High King Torygg was not one of the men who could withstand Ulfric especially when he was the person eyes by the Bear of Markarth.

"Jarl Torygg son of Istlod…" Ulfric called for Torygg not by his title as the High King but by his title as the Jarl of Haafingar.

It was insolent and rude to address the King in this manner but even those with little wisdom could smell the blood in Ulfric's voice.

"… I want a word."

Silence was never this alarming. Ulfric surely is not an idiot to do anything reckless but popping up like that and saying he wants to talk was a little bit unappreciated at this event.

The cold weather was useless to cool down the situation and Torygg made up his mind. He walked to face Ulfric ignoring the muffled calls of Falk Firebeard, Sybille Stentor and Elisif.

Once Torygg stood facing Ulfric, he spoke.

"I hear you, Jarl Ulfric. Why are you here?" Torygg said.

"You know why." Ulfric replied.

"Independence?"

"Should there be any other reason?"

"You know it is not that simple."

"Nothing is. That's why a King shouldn't hesitate to take action." Ulfric made his words clear.

His voice was vibrating in the stones of the palace. The Jarl who spent years fighting was old but not that old, his height stood above many Nords, his long brown hair and beard, his deep voice and his lazy eyes were the stamp of the great Bear of Markarth.

Facing him was the young tender Torygg, the good man but not so good King. He carried the sword of the High King, [Jolhert] on him. A blade forged by Wulfharth from Stalhrim.

"What Skyrim needs is more than a King of a Jarl, Jarl Ulfric. It needs its truest sons." Torygg said.

"Last one of those you banished out of the realm not so long go the way I remember it." Ulfric replied.

"Yes. He is one of them." Torygg replied made Ulfric narrow his eyes reading the meaning of Torygg's words.

"Jarl Torygg…" Ulfric spoke as his imposing presence started to intensify as if a mountain was facing Torygg, "… I challenge you to a Duel."

Vittoria was shivering no longer from the cold weather of Skyrim but from knowing what is to happen. The harbinger of disaster has descended on Solitude calling for the name of its good King and no stopping him at this point, if someone voiced so much a word then the situation will escalate to an ugly turn. Ulfric is certainly not alone and has agents planted all around the area else how did he arrive this unannounced.

In the eyes of people and based on all the Tamrielic tradition, a Duel is a fight for honor. Be it end with defeat or death, a Duel is to be honored.

If you turn down a duel, you are a coward. If you are a coward, you are unworthy. If you are unworthy, you shouldn't be the man you are holding the titles you hold and your Honor is forever tarnished. Torygg knew that, his advisors knew that, everyone knew that.

Ulfric, uninvited and unannounced showed up and put Torygg in that situation in front of everyone.

What are Torygg's choices?

Backing off is not an option.

Going ahead against the Bear of Markarth himself is a suicide.

The consequence of backing off is the fall of the Skyrim. Everyone will follow the Dead Ghost of a King rather than the Living Husk of a Coward. All the holds will declare Independence if he backed off. The future will be bleak.

Torygg took a glimpse to the side seeing his beautiful side Elisif holding the armrests of her chair digging her nails into them. He could only nod to her that everything will be alright.

He turned to face the avalanche of a man in front of him and replied.

"I accept." Torygg said the words.

The indifference on Ulfric's face, his lazy eyes and deep voice all changed in a second as if the man was possessed by a demon. His wide smile showed the matrix of his teeth in a murderous grin.

Kings or not… anything in front of this war-driven smile felt the disaster.

A True Warlord was given the green light.

Torygg never feared him, he drew [Jolhert] and stepped ahead uttering the name of Sovngarde but Ulfric…

"FUS RO DAH!"

Vittoria didn't see much afterward. The truth is… no one saw what happened. Everyone turned their face from the Unrelenting Force of the shout.

As everyone opened their eyes, Torygg and Ulfric were not in their places. Torygg was across the garden as he seemed to have crashed in the Palace's wall and Ulfric was holding [Jolhert] off the bloody body of Torygg and sheathing it.

Was Torygg alive? Was he killed? Was killed by sword? Was he torn apart by the shout?

No one could tell.

Ulfric walked away with the King's Sword, Elisif shouted as she reached forward but her guard pulled her back.

The palace fell to chaos.

Ulfric walked out of the city.

The Civil War started.

Forts were shattered.

The bandits spread through the land.

The Stormcloak declared the independence of Eastmarch, the Rift and the Pale under the leadership of Ulfric Stormcloak.

Skyrim is Sundred, Kingless, Bleeding.

***

Jon put down the letter and hid his face behind his palms. He took in a deep breath and then revealed his face. His expressions were too hard to read to the others around him.

Beth, Isha and Nefertiti were standing by his side while Miranda and Mirren were standing behind the counter. Jon spread his hands open to the Altmer twins and they held it.

"Jon, what will you do?"

The question was a heavy one but Jon replied with a self-mocking tone.

"I am afraid. I always think of myself as a family man but… I am dragging you all to a place that will make Oblivion look like a silly joke. Am I really the family man I think I am?"

Jon was depressed. His thoughts were all negative.

"It's okay…" Isha said, "I lost everyone I know but I know you are a brother, a sworn brother, a brother in arms, and soon…" she looked at Miranda and sent a punch to get shoulder, "A brother-in-law."

A smile appeared on Jon's face and the others'.

"I'm following you." Miranda said.

Jon nodded to her, she may have turned a bit weird lately with her strange sense of hair colors but Miranda is cool.

"I have no choice." Mirren said giving up but his feelings were true.

"I don't have anyone else to follow. I'm no longer part of the Cult." Beth said.

"I'm not letting you off either." Jon said.

Nefertiti was the last to speak.

"So, finally going home?"

"Yes, home."

Jon's mood improved lately after remembering the cold north.

"Yay! I'll go back up." Nefertiti ran in a flash to gather her things.

"Me too! Wait!" Beth followed.

"I'll gather the Weed crates. Can't make the journey back to Skyrim dull, can I?" Isha ran to pick up the weed she dearly loves.

Who was left in front of Jon was Mirren and Miranda who were still holding hands with him. Jon looked at them and spoke.

"I heard your opinions, one person left." Jon said.

The two took a second to let out a breath then nodded. They held joined together with their free hands and switched from the Aspect of Duality to the Aspect of Singularity.

"Myr."

"Jon."

Jon faced Myr who looked different than usual. On Myr's face, there was a living stain of black. A dark matter that seemed to be harmful. Jon was holding the two hands of Myr and grasped them tighter.

"I'll find you help." Jon said.

"I'm good." Myr replied.

Jon had a bitter feeling in his heart seeing this stain on Myr's face. He pulled Myr's hands up between them and kissed the back of his hands. Myr approached closer and touched foreheads with Jon too.

"You shouldn't have come to save me." Jon said.

"That was my choice." Myr replied.

"And my fault."

"No. He tried to harm you, tried to harm our people."

"There were those who were saving me."

"From Him? That Shadow Man and Sheogorath would have never bested Him."

The depressing memory of that day swelled up.

Jon was saving Nefertiti and saving the girl he never thought he would ever meet but that Thing kept laughing.

The Man sealed on the Inverted Throne in the Heart of Chaos.

"He hurt Nefertiti, he hurt you, he hurt that girl. I may never be able to but one day, I'll spit in his eye." Jon said.

"You do that, I'll look forward to it."

That was not Jon's Fate but he was offended to the point where he doesn't care anymore. He had a grievance that he will pay back one day no matter what. [A/n: a Donverse crossover foreshadowing]

But right now. It's time to go home.

~~~~~~~~~~

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