ācta: i.
20th First Seed: 3 hours past midnight
It smelled of human exertion and dead soil. Darkness crept alongside them. It must have been comforting that at the very least the Redguard - Legate Casimer Demetrius-Khan, he had claimed to be - and had not been lying when he'd told them that the tunnel had an end and the end would have them emerge outside the castle walls. The light and the ladder testified to the former point - and the sheer length of the walk to the latter. It had been perhaps twenty minutes since their conspiratorial meeting had concluded with mission directions, a short enough time that the bulk of it still echo'd in their minds:
The popular-history books of the future would begin - one could be certain - with a documentation of the nausea-inducing setting. The stench of death had filled their lungs on entering the Church Undercroft: the almost overwhelming odour of the corpses maintained below for embalming. Casimer had been waiting and his gaze seemed to pass over each of the newcomers with a glance at the strength of their reactions. He had first congratulated them all on completing their recruitment and joining the Legion. There was a disinterest - or at least a lack of warmth typical of a congratulations - in his tone. Then, formalities concluded, he had continued:
- "But this is Black Legion. No-one will note your names on the official register - No-one outside a select few will even recall your names. The Empire, thus far, has maintained the illusion that it is on the retreat: that it is broken and prepared for a surrender. But our armies only lie in wait of their chance to strike in revenge whilst the Thalmor grow lax in their conceit. This is an illusion that can only be maintained with the recruitment of this unit - a deniable unit. You will not receive official funerals because you will not be on official business. But the success of our most crucial mission objectives will be predicated on your actions.
You might be wondering why we chose you for this unit. Gods-knows that we avoided natural fighters. But each of you is adept in a role, and together you are as formidable as any unit we put on the field."
There was an Imperial scout waiting for them a mile south of their target location, with further directions and orders to accompany them. It was stressed with unusual strength that this scout was in no position of leadership, and that as far as the legion was concerned he was 'literal [&@%!]' but had a 'good eye'. Directions were offered, and then the passage they now walked was revealed: hidden behind a revolving tomb.
---
Gaining - now - on the end that was in sight, the ladder was becoming clearer in their vision; illuminated in the dim light of oil-fued lamp. It was made of rope but rope thick enough that it might have supported their heaviest members. Entering the chamber in which it was held - a chamber large enough to host their entire group, it's length could be admired, or feared. It seemed longer than their ascent to the Church Undercroft might have justified - hinting perhaps at a subtle slope in the path that had just been walked. The final words of the Redguard would have echo'd loudest in their heads as choices were to be made about who ascended first:
"The tunnel emerges at a Shrine to the Gods, three miles east of Cheydinhal, and one mile west of the target location. We can't be sure there won't be Thalmor closer, or even there.
Be careful."
