A week had passed since Bjorn had sent a messenger to the Imperial City and the trapped legions within and he had finally received a reply, in the form of the messengers severed head in his horses saddlebag.

Bjorn was seething with rage at the insult, that one would deny him- him, the son of Akatosh himself!- and reject his offer with the mutilated corpse of one of his soldiers was outrageous. He would show them the true might of The Dragon of the North, they would burn.

He turned from his desk, of which every inch was covered in maps and reports from his generals. He had begun planning the siege of the Imperial City, and it would not be free of blood.

The day previous a scholar by the name of Sven had come to him with knowledge of a possible way to destroy the city. He had explained that sewers ran underneath the city, and were accessible by two points outside of the city. Under the cover of night small longboats would be able to reach these entryways and a few men would be able to make their way within the great city. If this was done right those men could open the gates and allow his armies entry. Yet Bjorn did not want to enter the city, he wanted to destroy it. The sewers ran under the entire city, Bjorn planned to place barrels of gunpowder underneath the city and kill the entirety of the Imperial army in one move.

General Cassius had made the Dovahkiin look a fool. He would ensure he regretted it.

For the first time in his life, Henrik was scared.

He and his men had been given a momentous tast. What might that task be you ask? Well my friend, the dragonborn had decided that instead of sieging the Imperial City like a regular man would. He wanted to blow it up, when Henrik and his section had been called for, he had assumed it to be some other menial task like the others he was given, and when asked if he was willing to give his life for his Emperor it had been his honour to reply to his liege with a resounding positive. If only he had known where that would get him.

He grunted as the muscles in his shoulders twinged, the barrel he was carrying having shifted on his back. After night had fallen he had set off with his men in six longboats, each packed with gunpowder barrels. His orders were to lay each of the barrels under the center of the city, one of the barrels had a long fuse out of the top. After it was lit he and his men would have five minutes to get out of the tunnel and back onto their boats. If they were too slow however...well I'm sure you can understand his fear.

"Thurek, this is good enough. Place the barrels here, make sure they're nice and close to each other." He whispered to his second in command, near silence being important as this was, by essence, a mission of great stealth. One false move and the imperials would be alerted to their presence.

His long time friend nodded and passed the command to the others. It wasn't long until all the barrels were placed in a pile in the stinking sewer. Looking to his men he gave them a shallow nod which they returned before jogging towards the boats.

It had been previously agreed only one man was needed to light the fuse, and as their leader Henrik knew it had to be him. He waited a minute until he was sure his men were far enough away they would get out on time, and then he began to spark his flint on the fuse. Continuing until he saw the fuse ignite. He turned and prepared to sprint before his gut wrenched as he heard a shout.

"Noise over here! Quickly!"

Henrik took a steadying breath, calming his mind he unsheathed his sword and turned in time to see a section of Imperial men splashing through the shallow sewer water towards him.

He gave a great war cry befitting of his ancestry and splashed towards them, slashing his sword at the first mans unprotected belly as he had raised his sword in a downward strike, before twirling and bringing his shield down on another mans head. Cries of alarm went up behind them and more men soon ran forward to meet him, taking their comrades places.

Henrik fought like a true nord that night, but as he fell to the ground bleeding, he found that he wasn't scared anymore. He would find peace in Sovngarde. He had died, it was true, but he had died for his people and his Emperor. He found peace for a moment, and smiled. Then he heard the explosions.

Bjorn smiled as he heard the explosions, he knew Henrik and his men were competent and that they would get the job done. A group of good strong nords, he was proud to have them in his army.

The Imperial City had fallen, quite literally, into the lake it was surrounded by. Thus ending one of his problems, yet the Aldmeri Dominion was marching his way from their outposts at Skingrad and Kvatch and would soon be upon him. He had ordered trenches to be dug in front of the battlefield he planned to draw them to. Ensuring that their cavalry would be met by spiked pits. The battle soon to come would be a harsh one, the first real battle of this war, the Empire had been a warm up compared to the might of the elves he would be met with, his scouts made their number at some forty thousand, three thousand of which were heavily armoured cataphracts and another three thousand were mages.

His own forces numbered at only twenty five thousand, the dunmer were busy fighting the Argonians in Blackmarsh, having taken over half the province the remaining Argonians had proved themselves a worthy opponent. The Redguards were marching to meet him but would not arrive until the day after he was likely to fight the large Aldmeri force.

Luckily he still had his dragons, camped with him were six powerful dragons including his old friend Odahviing, he knew the great red dragon lusted for blood and in the coming battles he would have plenty of chances to test his thu'um.

There was another issue on his mind at the moment though, his steadfast ally the High King of Hammerfell, Baurus had proposed Bjorn marry his daughter Eletta, to seal their alliance. Whilst Nords did not abide by arranged marriages, he knew it was commonplace in other provinces and amongst royalty, of which he now belonged, for such to happen.

By all accounts the redguard princess was a great beauty and Bjorn would need to take a wife eventually, he had decided to take the offer, granting the princess herself wasn't opposed to the idea.

It wasn't until three days after his scouts came back to camp warning him of the approaching Aldmeri army. At once he ordered his cataphracts to form up on the top of a hill, the position would give their initial charge the benefit of suprise and momentum allowing them to do more damage to the elves. Meanwhile the main ranks of his army were forming up behind the pits that had been dug and covered with woven branches and concealed with dirt.

He smiled at the thought of the Thalmor cavalry charging right into the trap. Despite being outnumbered he was confident in this victory.

The dragonborn stretched his arms out and two servants began to strap on his armour made from the melted down masks of ancient dragon priests. He took a deep breathe and felt as if he could feel the magic contained within spread to his limbs, the dragon magic within reverberating within his soul, feeding his power.

After the armour was fixed in place he picked up his enchanted flaming dragonborn greatsword, aptly named Dovahyol, translating to Dragonfire. The blade had taken many lives, and today more would join them.

He left his tent and looked to the skies, seeing his dragons roaring in anger, or was it anticipation of a great battle to come? It didn't matter, he jumped on his great warhorse Shadowmere and rode towards the lines, they parted to let him through and he was soon in front of his vast army. He turned to face them, hearing the beating of elven drumbeats echoing in the valley that was to become a battlefield.

All his men were now formed up, he could see his cataphracts just over the rise of a hill, hidden from the sight of the enemy, perfect. They wouldn't see the charge coming until it was upon them.

He would be leading his vanguard, three thousand men who would charge head on at the enemy, the main infantry behind would then push their progress. The brave men around him were all battle hardened veterans, men he could count on to fight until their last breathes.

The elves were close now, he could almost smell their superiority complex from across the thousand yards or so that seperated them. He drew his sword and heard the shink as the men around him did the same. They knew their orders, once the elven cavalry had fallen against the pits they were to charge behind him to take the shocked soldiers by surprise.

Thats when he heard it, the clatter and dull booming of three thousand cavalry charging towards him. He watched with a sick fascination as they drew closer...before the screams of dying horses filled the air as they fell onto the spikes in the pits. With one last look at his men, he let out a wordless roar and kicked Shadowmere into a gallop, his vanguard doing the same as they charged towards the pits, once they had been deep, now were filled with the bodies of dead elves, allowing the men to gallop over them and into the confused elven infantry. They didn't even have a chance to form a shield wall or draw spears before Bjorn was upon them, hacking and slashing with his sword. Using the two-handed greatsword as if it were a lighter one-handed, a normal man wouldn't be able to hold it with one hand, but Bjorn had the blood of the dragon and he was stronger than a normal man.

He could vaguely hear the sound of his dragons thu'um echoing in the valley through the haze which was his bloodlust.

Bjorn took a deep breath before shouting the words of a powerful shout.


He roared the words of the Call Storm shout, clouds began to gather above blocking the sunlight and lightning could be seen flashing, soon large bolts of lightning began dropping from the sky scattering elven soldiers. It was then that his hidden cataphracts charged, their bodies emerging over the top of the wooded hill. The elves turned towards the new pounding of hooves, the battle had only just begun and they had already lost a large amount of soldiers, the dragons blasting them with fire and ice, and lightning still blowing them apart.

Bjorn's vanguard had done well, the infantry from behind began to pull up behind them, filling the gaps dead horses left and war cries could be heard all around the battle.

Bjorn smiled, the Aldmeri were nothing to be feared, and their power came from fear.

The battle had been won, it had been bloody, but of the original twenty five thousand Bromjunaarian soldiers that had fought, close enough to fifteen thousand still remained, whereas the full forty thousand of the Aldmeri had been defeated.

His men were now looting the corpses, weapons and armour could be taken from them and melted down into new equipment for his own soldiers.

He had also received new word from the King Baurus in regards to marrying his daughter. Preparations had been made, and his wedding would be taking place in Chorrol, within friendly lines and also the middle ground between his current position and that of the Princess'. Divines willing he would be able to free himself of the frontlines for long enough to get to Chorrol for his wedding.

His plans were moving faster than he had anticipated, the Imperial City had fallen, and he had defeated the Aldmeri in open combat.

Anvil was currently under siege by the Dominion and he hoped he would be able to push the progress he had made to take the rest of Cyrodiil from the Dominion. Leyawiin would be the most difficult, but he hoped the Dunmeri in Black Marsh would be able to take that city.

Not bad for the son of a farmer, eh?