Dawn's cold mist crept over Winterhold as Damien stood on the garrison's battlements, his eyes scanning the snow covered hills for any sign of Reynard's retreating forces. They had won the battle, but the flavor of victory was bitter. They had defended the garrison at terrible cost-too many dead, too many wounded, and the rebellion still cast its ominous shadow over the kingdom.
Amara stepped up beside him, moving silently as she propped herself against the cold stone parapet. In the usual dark leathers, soot smeared over her face and dark circles under her eyes.
"Still brooding?" she asked, her light tone tinged with concern.
Damien didn't take his eyes off the horizon. "Reynard escaped. This wasn't a victory. It was a delay."
"Delays can be useful," Amara said. "Every day you keep him off balance is a day he can't consolidate his forces."
He turned to her, his gray eyes hard. "But every day he remains free is another day he spreads chaos. The rebellion doesn't end until Reynard falls."
She studied him for a moment, her sharp blue eyes narrowing. "You're carrying too much weight, Damien. If you keep it all on your shoulders like this, it's going to crush you."
"I don't have any choice," he said bluntly.
Amara frowned but did not argue with him. Instead, she pulled out a rolled-up parchment from her satchel and handed it to him.
"What is this?" Damien asked as he unrolled the parchment.
"Something I picked off one of Reynard's officers," she said. "It's a message—coded, of course—but I had a little time to… decipher it."
Damien scanned the parchment, his frown deepening as he read. The message detailed a meeting, set to take place in two weeks' time at a remote manor deep within the western territories.
Support rally for Reynard, Amara explained. If we can sabotage it, we may be able to cut his support away at the roots.
Or flip some of his supporters against him, Damien said thoughtfully.
Exactly, Amara said, a sly grin tugging at her lips. You're catching on.
Damien rolled the parchment up again and tucked it into his belt. "We'll have to act fast. The west districts are still restless-if we can create an uproar there, Reynard will have lost his ground."
Amara nodded. "And I'll scout ahead. Once more."
He looked at her, a small twist of his lip hovering at the corners. "You don't have to volunteer for every treacherous expedition."
"But where's the sport in that?" she retorted.
That at least did suffice to level out the atmosphere in Winterhold as preparations were made for the next stage of the campaign. Damien held a closed meeting with his inner circle: General Aldric, Captain Harrow, and his spymaster, Orlen, over what they should do next.
There had been a summons drawn up in the war room of the garrison-an obscurant-lit room where a great oak table overflowed with maps and reports.
"They are gathering again," Orlen said, his bright eyes running over a newly sketched map. "They are retreating toward their fortresses in the west, but they are far from over."
"And this assembly," Aldric said, his fingers drumming on the parchment Damien had set upon the table. "What do we know of this?"
"Only that it's in two weeks," Damien said. "And that it's probably Reynard's effort to muster his friends. If we can interfere with it, we can damage him considerably."
Harrow's brow furrowed. "It will be well-defended. Even with surprise on our side, it won't be an easy operation."
Damien nodded. "That's why we're going to come in under the radar. We'll infiltrate that meeting and gather the intelligence. If we can identify some of the key supporters he has, we can target them individually-cut him off from his base of power."
Aldric raised an eyebrow. "And who do you plan on sending on this mission?"
"I will," Damien said without hesitation.
The room fell silent.
With all respect, Your Grace," Harrow ventured, "this is a mad plan. If Reynard gets scent of you, he'll kill you in cold blood."
"That's a risk I'm prepared to take," Damien said flatly.
"Then you are a bleeding idiot," Aldric growled. "You are the heart and soul of this revolt. If you die, so does the kingdom.".
Damien turned his gaze to meet Aldric, speaking calmly, "And if I do nothing, the rebellion will only continue to grow. I'll not sit idly by while others fight for me."
Heavy silence followed. Only at last did Amara, lounging against the wall, break into a speech.
"He's right," she said, and her words drew gasps from the rest. "If Damien wants to have the loyalty of his people, he can't run behind a title. He's not going alone either."
Damien looked at her. "You're volunteering again?"
"Of course," she said, her smile self-satisfied. "Someone has to keep you out of trouble."
Aldric shook his head, and frustration sparkled in his eyes. "This is madness."
"It's necessary," Damien said, his tone brooking no argument.
---
Over the next few days, Damien and Amara made their preparations. Disguises were procured, false documents created, and escape routes planned. Amara's skill in subterfuge proved invaluable, and Damien found himself relying on her more than he had anticipated.
"You're awfully good at this," he said one evening as they reviewed the details of their plan.
Amara shrugged. "Let's just say I've had plenty of practice."
"That's how you survived Reynard's betrayal?" he asked carefully.
Her expression darkened, but she didn't shy away from the question. "Something like that. Reynard used people like me-discarded us when we were no longer useful. I learned to adapt."
"I'm sorry," Damien said quietly.
Amara's eyes softened, and she gave him a small, genuine smile. "Don't be. I wouldn't be here if I hadn't."
---
The night before their departure, Damien visited the garrison chapel. The little building boasted stone walls lit only by flickering candlelight. He stood before the altar, his thoughts heavy.
He wasn't a religious man, but sometimes like this he felt the crushing weight of his sins.
"Seeking forgiveness?"
Damien picked on the undertone and swiveled to see Amara standing there, arms crossed.
"Something like that," he admitted.
She moved forward, her voice taking on a softer tone. "You are not the man you once were, Damien. You have started upon a path to redemption."
"No," he said. "Redemption does not take anything away from the past."
"No," she agreed. "But it gives you a future."
Her words left there in the air as she walked away, leaving Damien to his dark reflections.
---
To get to the west territories was going to take a long and dangerous trip. Damien and Amara pretended to be merchants, their wagon loaded with supplies and false goods. As they neared the site of the meeting, these roads became treacherous.
Bandits went in and out of the wilderness, while Reynard's patrols combed the area for spies. Fortunately, due to Amara's instinct and Damien's expertise of leadership, nothing inappropriate occurred.
They made it to the manor-a huge estate tucked in a thicket of towering trees. Guards patrolled the area, their banners bearing the sigil of Reynard.
"This is the one," Amara whispered almost inaudibly.
A grim nod from Damien.
The greenlight for the game, but failure was no option.