Mednach stood on a tower, watching expressionlessly as the tribesmen poured into Markas. The cold wind blew up his cloak and thick golden hair, revealing his strong body and sharp eyes.
"This is a massacre." Naipold stood beside him, with a hint of intolerance in his bleak tone.
From their position, they could clearly see that the citizens and refugees of Markarth were being dragged from their warm homes, stables, taverns, and inns by members of the Boneshaper Tribe, Raging Palm Tribe, and other small tribes. Come out, chop off the head and carve out the heart. The screams of women, the cries of children, and the despair of men on the verge of death resounded through the night sky in the frontier fortress area. Together with the crazy laughter of the fanatical tribesmen, they formed a hellish bloody song.
In the end, even the red Sekunda couldn't bear to hide his face. Silver Malthael once again occupies the skies of Nirn.
"This is revenge," Mednach said, with a strange look on his face. There is both intolerance and an indescribable cruelty, "Our people have been oppressed by the empire for too long, and the necessary venting is destined."
"But we cannot rule this land with hatred alone." Neipold retorted: "The emperor was trapped in the war in the south and was unable to mobilize an army to quell the rebellion. However, the empire's thousand-year heritage cannot be ignored. We must strengthen the relationship between the emperor and the emperor. Before the 'big men' in the Senate can free their hands, we must stabilize our rear. For this, we must win over the Nords..."
"Part of it." The Ragged King interrupted his men.
Neipold blinked, not understanding the meaning of the king's words.
Mednach turned his head, and the cold look reflected in his blue eyes frightened Naipold, "We need to let the three major tribes vent their anger - this is almost inevitable - they have never been able to I am too obedient to the orders of those crazy women with bird claws and feathers. Only by complying with their stupid and short-sighted demands can I more easily take the initiative in the parliament——"
"Secondly," Mednach said, "after more than a thousand years of mixed living, there are too many foreigners in the frontier territory! Half-elves, orcs, Nords, desert nomads, and even Niren, you can see them in Nirn You can see all kinds of races here in Markarth! But our people are becoming increasingly rare. We must - this is also inevitable - make the difference in numbers between the two sides not so exaggerated..."
Naipold was stunned. This was the first time he saw the ruthless side of the king. They were talking about a massacre, but the ragged king spoke so lightly.
"Violence is a cruel but effective method, and hatred can only be vented - we cannot avoid both, so what other choices are left for us?" The ragged king murmured to himself: "We can accept it. Some Nords, and even Imperials, but the premise here is that our people have an unquestionable advantage in the coming rule sequence!"
"We can appease them afterwards," Mednach said coldly, looking at his loyal lieutenants: "And I have asked them not to burn down the houses and carriages of the merchant guild. As long as the trade routes are guaranteed, Markas will eventually be our!"
Naipold knew that the king was right. The three major tribes would not give up the opportunity to hunt the devil with glory just because of an order from the ragged king. This devil was addicted to chasing, capturing and killing, no matter whether the prey was elves, humans or beasts. He will encourage his followers to go on long and endless hunts, simply finding, testing and rewarding 'hunters' whom He deems worthy. The process is generally considered fair—more or less. But most of the time, there is no so-called fairness in killing.
Hircine didn't care about this either. All His followers have to do is prove themselves to Him. Prove yourself a hunter, or prey. In this way, they will be allowed to hunt endlessly in His hunting grounds.
It was an endless forest with endless hunting. It is also a land of savagery and violence, a perpetual cycle of death and rebirth. The Hunting Lord's palaces and hunting lodges dot the landscape, and powerful beasts lurk in the forests, allowing followers of Hircine to immerse themselves in awe-inspiring hunts - and for those who dedicate their lives to the Hunting Lord. , this is a real paradise.
Most of the Reach people in Skyrim believe in this god of blood and hunting. For them, there is nothing more exciting than conquering a feuding city and killing and hunting in it.
Even though their people were able to enter this deep-walled ancient Dwemer city, it was actually all thanks to the Tattered King. Although Naipold didn’t know much about the deal between Maidenaki and the Silver-blooded clan leader, when the city As the unreliable ally said, the door was opened by one of his own, and Naipold knew that this hunting had entered the final stage - "This is a feast," and he watched the turmoil and terrible slaughter Looking at Markarth, Naipold couldn't help but sigh: "The Hunting Demon God is enjoying his bloody killing."
Mednach was silent for a moment and then said, "There's nothing we can do about it."
Naipold opened and closed his mouth, but he didn't know what to say.
After a long time, Naipold spoke again, "I don't believe him." The deputy bowed humbly to the leader of the Forsworn who was about to become Markarth's new master, and then stood up straight, "Their bones are full of blood. It is conspiracy and betrayal. Even the children of the Frontier Leader know this. Why would they choose to help us? Don't tell me, do you really believe that he betrayed the original master just to get the mines of the Frontier Leader? .”
Mednach watched quietly as more and more Forsworn people entered Markarth, and the entire city became more chaotic. Finally, someone couldn't help but set a fire - maybe it was the madness of a desperate man before his death, but it might also be some idiot who was carried away by faith and blood - and the fire lit up the originally dark night sky. Coupled with all kinds of crazy slashing sounds and shrill screams, it seems to be announcing that this once-famous ancient city is about to become history.
Finally, Mednach spoke. "So, I order you here: my friend. Take my guards, go to this city that will be ours, stop those dizzy idiots, and never allow them to burn it down! Also-"
The Tattered King suddenly turned his head, with a pair of ice-blue eyes showing a hint of ferocity and cunning, "Kill the Silver Blood! Kill all the cowards with the blood of betrayal and conspiracy! Let this city of our ancestors truly belong to us. Only for us!"
Naipold's head jerked up.
Then he laughed.
****
Looking at the deputy leading the tribal warriors gradually away, Mednach stopped talking. Instead, he turned his head and looked at the hellish scenes below with a cold and complicated expression.
"This is a hunt, and we may all be the prey!" the king muttered to himself.
However, he didn’t know that this was undoubtedly a bloody feast, but the real cause of this horrific killing was not the Hunting Demon God, but another Annihilation Lord, the father of vampires from Cold Harbor - Morag. Barr.
****
Igmund was picked up from the bed - this made the lord extremely angry. He really couldn't believe that someone could be so rude. At a certain moment, he even decided whether to throw the opponent's corpse to feed the dogs or to extract his soul and stuff it into the soul stone.
But when he saw that the person who came was actually a high-level mage with a stern face, Igmund swallowed the anger that was about to burst into his stomach.
The young lord rubbed his forehead and asked angrily: "Master Kasemmo, I need an explanation, why..." At the same time, Igmund looked at the door calmly, trying to find the guard who should be guarding it. Guards here.
"Your enemies have entered the city!" The high-jing mage's simple words blocked all the complaints and suspicions of the angry lord.
This powerful summoning master and scholar from Winterhold wore a black mage robe, with a wide and deep hood tightly draped over his head. He held a staff in his right hand, with a fist-sized fist embedded in the top of the staff. The gems glowed faintly blue under the dim candlelight. The mage wears a magic ring on the index finger of his left hand, which contains a powerful demon. The reason why Igmund knows this is because when the Forsworn first broke through Markarth, the high elf The mage once summoned his 'magic pet' - and it was only then that Igmund realized that the mage hired by his father was so powerful. This master of magic can not only summon a large number of elemental apostles, but also force the terrifying Lord of Annihilation to serve him!
If it weren't for Casemo's help that night, Macas would have fallen on the first day. The master quietly glanced at the piles of wine bottles under our lord's warm and comfortable bed, and shook his head inwardly.
"What..." Due to the pain of a hangover, the lord was still thinking about what the master meant by this sentence. The next moment, the high-precision mage gave another piece of earth-shattering bad news.
"Your father was murdered, and the regicide was his captain of the bodyguard - at least that's what it seems."
Igmund felt dizzy.
Only then did he hear that the originally quiet fortress was filled with bursts of noises and screams. It seemed that everyone was running and shouting at a loss. Looking from the open door, the guards who should have been guarding the young lord's palace wholeheartedly fell to the ground silently, and a pool of unknown liquid was slowly flowing under them. But there was a strange maid lying in the room that was supposed to be tightly guarded - judging from her long green hair, petite body, and pointed ears on her temples, she was a wood elf woman. .
And a gleaming dagger that should never belong to a maid was held in her hand.
It is obvious that this is a deadly weapon soaked in poison. But its owner's face was stiff at this moment, and there was a hint of horror and unwillingness in his eyes that had not yet been closed, as if to say, there was only a little difference.
Our lord finally came to his senses. He let out a surprising scream, and then like a frightened woman, he kicked his long legs desperately, trying to shrink back, as if he could pull away from those long legs. Terrible eye distance.
The mage sighed and stood helplessly between the assassin and the big bed. He held the staff in one hand, and the thumb of the other hand gently turned the magic ring on his index finger.
(End of chapter)
