The End Of The World (Issy)

A/N: While I don't have an Issy birthday fic this year I do at least have an Issy and the no good very bad end of the third era for today. Happy birthday Issy, you get to fight Daedra and suffer...

 

 Never in my life would I have expected to see the death of an emperor, his heirs except for a secret bastard child, or the end of the world. Walking along the road to Kvatch I think over recent events, having been tasked to bring Uriel’s illegitimate son back to Jauffre. The landscape is remarkably peaceful, quiet and undisturbed, at least for now. Other Daedra have attempted to invade in the past, but there has never been a crisis quite like this in recent memory, some say it’s a harbinger of the end times though if I remember my mythology correctly I always thought that involved some giant dragon…and no one has seen one for thousands of years. The days have begun to grow shorter, the oncoming wall of darkness looming ever closer on the horizon in more ways than one. Coming across a small inn I decide to stop for the night, the hour has grown late and I’ll need my strength for whatever manner of beast I find at kvatch, which Jauffre says has been nearly completely destroyed by the invasion from all manner of monsters.

 

 “How much for a room?” I question the innkeeper who must not have noticed my entrance based on his startled response to my leaning against the bar and questioning. “10 gold” he pauses before adding “traveling alone my lady? All the way out here?” How I hate such comments disguised as questions. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’m to meet a friend in kvatch.” The man looks concerned “not many survivors from there I’m afraid, best check the refugee camp, if they’re not there odds are your friends dead more likely than not. Awful thing that’s happened, and the emperor dead too…” That is at least useful information, I hadn’t known there was a camp for the survivors, hopefully I find the bastard there, I’d rather not fight my way through hordes of dremora. Could I do it? Of course, but I would prefer not to, my blade prefers kills that make money and involve those who deserve such a punishment for their deeds in life. 

 

After a bit more conversation with the innkeeper I take my leave having ordered food and find a spot near the fire in a corner of the common area. The inn is quiet but a few other travelers and townspeople sit talking amongst themselves, giving me a look every now and again with a mixture of intrigue and perhaps a bit of fear. It’s not everyday a mysterious dark haired stranger passes through, I suppose, and I don’t think my choice of clothing helps. I prefer dark colors and neutral tones, they help to blend in and don’t draw too much attention, and I’d been in such a hurry that I’d only brought my light armor from Cheydinhal. If I’d known when I visited the priory that I’d be sent on official blades business I would have taken another bag to store some of their at least ceremonial armor. One can’t accurately prepare for the end of the world or the things to try and stop it though, and I’ll make do with what I have on me. 

 

While I eat the people sitting in the common room slowly empty out as the hours pass, eventually I finish myself and decide to retire for the night. Heading upstairs two at a time and making not a squeak I reach the room at the end of the hall that I’d rented for the night, all my belongings right where I left them. The room itself is simple but functional and the bed is at least in better condition than most inn rooms I’ve seen. Crawling into bed I find it is so much better than sleeping on the ground, if I had the money I’d rent a room more often, and make a mental note to ask Vicente for more work once this mission is done. Hopefully once the heir is found and Jauffre takes over the task of ending the crisis I can go back to my normal routine of theft and murder for the greater good, and the end of the world will be delayed until a later date…though I doubt it. At this rate, it seems like my part in the story is just beginning, and the end of the world may be approaching at an ever increasing pace, that is if Uriel’s child even lives. If he’s dead, we’re doomed. To keep myself from spiraling so late at night I try to think of the happy things that have happened recently, and while I can count them on one hand, they’ve still happened. 

 

With a clearer head and a map marked out for the road ahead tomorrow I fall into a deep sleep plagued with images of daedra contrasted with Jauffre trying to explain to another retired blade why his sock drawer is arranged in such a specific way…both are odd dreams, and I’m relieved to see the familiar layout of a bare inn room when I awake in the morning. After cleaning up and a quick but decent breakfast I thank the innkeeper before heading off on the road once again, alone with nothing by my thoughts, weapons, and the foggy morning weather. The ruined city of Kvatch isn’t too far away now, and the world won’t save itself. Nor will the emperor's son, if what Jauffre told me is true about him being a priest. Most of the priests I know outside of the members of the tribunal temple have no fighting experience or carry any kind of weapons, and their magic capacity is often limited to simple healing spells. 

 

It will be interesting to see the status of the city, as I get closer I notice the sky darkens in an unusual way. Something foul is afoot, and I wonder if the siege is still ongoing. Where not long ago was clear blue sky, now there are dark grey clouds and swirls of red smoke like the fires of the great red mountain of Vvardenfell. It really does look like the sky has fallen and the world has reached its end point, the sight is strange and unsettling, even to me. I can’t imagine what it was like that night for residents of the city, and those who survived. 

 

Trudging ever forward into the darkness I mutter a spell of magic resistance under my breath should anything try to surprise me. Armed with silver weapons and armor that allows me to move I’d like to see any heavy armored dremora warrior try to sneak up on me. Men of all kinds have tried it in the past with their axes and greatsword if caught on a job, and it’s always ended with a knife in their belly or a fire in their flesh. General rule of thumb: don’t anger a Breton Spellsword, especially one with nothing to lose, and never at the end of the world.