All-Flag Rangers: Part I, Snake-Eyes
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Cyrodiil, 4E 97
Iszir stared in wonder as they passed beneath the arches of the bridge. Gleaming white stone inlaid with silver and studded with meteoric iron rose far ahead of them, with spires jutting over them everywhere they looked. And at the center of it all was an impossibly high tower, rising above all else like a great big "I". They were approaching the greatest city of Cyrodiil, the greatest city of Tamriel, the Imperial City itself.
As they came to the gates Furioso tossed back his hood, revealing his shaven head and topknot and the band covering his eyes, the hilt of a katana just visible over his back. The gate guards bowed in reverence as he opened his pouch and presented his papers, then spoke so rapidly Iszir barely caught any of it. The guards nodded though, and one took their horses while the other opened the gates, letting them into the city.
The walk through was mesmerizing but quickly blurred together into so much white stone. Before Iszir knew it they were surrounded by green trees, radiant yellow red and purple flowers, and elegant tombstones and mausoleums. Furioso walked steadily down Green Emperor Way to the very foot of White-Gold Tower itself.
"You lived here." said Iszir in that plain, even tone while staring dumbfoundedly up the topless height.
Furioso wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a question or a statement of disbelief. Whatever the case he responded, "Once, yes. The Elder Scrolls are kept here, near the Tower's apex. It's the only place in the world you can go if you wish to study their secrets." He said something to the palace guard, then gestured at Iszir. "Come, let's meet the Emperor. Remember what I've taught you over the last six months. Be civilized, treat him as you would the Ansei Masters. You are ronin no more, his majesty Emperor Attrebus Mede is your new lord."
Iszir had nothing to say, just nodded and followed. Furioso led them up spiraling staircases, over and over, till they entered a marble hall, the cold floors covered in lush bretonnic carpets, the walls covered in tapestries bearing the proud histories of Cyrodiil woven in the styles of Elsweyr and Morrowind. At the other end of the hall stood a tall figure in a wide-sleeved gray cloak, three steps from the throne gazing at it. Furioso loudly cleared his throat before speaking,
"Hello Ioriel," the sound of his sandals slapping against the marble resounded in the empty hall, Iszir's feet falling quietly behind, "Where is the Emperor? I have a meeting."
"The Emperor fell while walking in the gardens," Ioriel turned, "he's not as young as he once was, and must rest. I have been appointed to meet you in his stead."
Furioso stopped at the foot of the steps preceeding the throne. "The matter to which I must speak is private, and of utmost importance. It is the Emperor alone to whom I must -" he was interrupted by heavy footfalls coming form behind.
"Don't worry Mothbrother, the Emperor has told the Graycloak everything," a woman wearing the heavy plate and dress of a high imperial officer sauntered into the hall and up to the other side of the throne. "We both will hear your modified proposal."
Furioso bowed slightly, "The most venerable Legate Hestrada, a most welcome addition. With your blessing then I will continue," He stood and said, "as you can see I have brought one already. This is Iszir, the last living Ansei on all Tamriel."
Hestrada looked the redguard up and down. "There is unrest in Hammerfell. The Crowns and Forebears are beginning to strike at one another yet again. Why would you abandon your homeland in such a time of need?"
Iszir looked to Furioso, who nodded, before responding, "I do not serve Hammerfell. I am from the Alik'r desert, where the only steady home is the family with whom you travel. Altmeri agents took my home from me, slaughtered my masters and fellow students. Only I, and one escaped assassin, survived." he bowed slightly towards the moth priest, "Brother Furioso leveraged the power of the Empire to find and capture that last assassin, brought him to me. Now he is ended, the cry of his fanatiscim bled from his lips as his head fell. With his death I have no family in Hammerfell anymore, no home, and no loyalty to it's foreign issues. Now my home is where my master wills it, and he is who I serve."
"And who is your master, Redguard?" said the Legate.
Iszir resisted the urge to glance at Furioso. "My master is the Emperor Attrebus Mede, lord of the Empire of Cyrodiil, Skyrim, Hammerfell, High Rock, and Morrowind. I am here to serve his initiative." Hestrada nodded, then turned to Furioso.
"If she's as good as they say the Ansei are then that's a fine choice for your team." Hestrada glanced at the Psijic, who blinked, then nodded slightly. She turned back to Furioso, "That said your proposal cannot be approved without Imperial oversight. You have told us what you have seen in the Scrolls, and Ioriel has confirmed that the Old Ways glimpse a nearing storm. We will approve your Initiative only on the condition that an Imperial officer will lead your team of irregulars."
Furioso may have looked annoyed, for a moment, but it passed before Iszir could be sure. Iszir doubted any other would have noticed the blind priests' slight twitch.
"Very well, who will you assign then?"
"One of my own Tribunes," Hestrada clapped her hands, and the doors of the hall opened. Everyone but Furioso turned to look as in entered a man with nibenese features wearing medium imperial armor and a crimson half-cape. As he drew near Iszir saw he had orange eyes and slit pupils like a snake's. The Legate approached and clasped his shoulder familiarly, "This is Captain Aurelius Leto-Shaihe, Tribune of the Fourth Legion. He will lead your rangers on their mission."
The Captain bowed to Furioso, who turned and whispered to Iszir, "Is he bowing? People bow to Moth Priests apparently. I never can tell." Iszir confirmed it quietly.
"It is my honor to serve, Brother Furioso," said Aurelius before turning to Iszir, "and I am proud to be your commanding officer, soldier. Welcome to the Legion."
Hestrada tutted, "No, Captain Aurelius, not the Legion." He turned to her in surprise, "You will act as a force of elite irregulars, seperate from the Legion, though with many of the same powers. I believe Brother Furioso has a title for you."
The moth priest nodded, "Yes. In times long past, before the Septim Empire conquered the entirety of the known world, there was one instance where we were all united against a common threat, led even then by the might of a Colovian warlord, as we are now." He shuffled up towards the psijic monk who had observed the proceedings quietly till now.
"Yes, the All-Flags Navy, led by General Bendu Olo," said Ioriel, "who sunk the island of Thras and ended the Sload threat."
"Precisely," said Furioso, "And today we begin anew as the All-Flag Rangers.
Furioso quickly padded down the steps towards the doors. He called out over his shoulder,
"Come then Iszir, Captain Aurelius. We have rangers to recruit."
"Where are we going now Mothbrother?" asked Aurelius.
"A little Colovian village called Hackdirt."
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