Emperors's's
The Emperor of the Empire looks over his city from high, eyes going from the black specs that each denoted a person he ruled over, the hundreds of thousands of then making his position weigh ever the more he sees.
He leans back in his cushioned chair and rests a hand on his chest, aware that his time was coming to an end, not just because of his age, or the lack of an official heir to the throne... No, his apprehension came from the North, the Dragonborn vying to take what is 'rightfully' his, as blood-kin of Tiber Septim.
He hadn't even ordered the army to secure the borders yet, so fearful that the massive loss of life a war would inevitably take would put the Empire at risk of finally falling to the Thalmor... He could take his death, he'd been long expecting it, but being the man who led a once great Empire to its death both horrified and disgusted him.
*Click!*
Hmm, there his advisors come again, seeking to have the troops go to war...
"My Emperor, my sincerest apologies for disturbing you but I cannot in good conscience patiently wait while Skyrim is ruled by a tyrant..."
"Tyrant? That's news to me, the reports I've seen suggest he is rather fair-handed with anyone who isn't an enemy or a seasoned warrior..." the Emperor, Titus neutrally states.
"Yes, well, spies can be bought and reports can be doctered-"
"Have you completed the task I gave you, what was it, a month ago now?" Titus interrupts the man.
"Well-, no, you see I've been-"
"Spending your time in brothels, seeing a girl who's old enough to be your daughter's daughter. I am aware." the Emperor states, inwardly taking great satisfaction at the man's sputtering.
Titus looks to the other advisor present, "And you, Geriot, have you completed the task I gave to you?"
"I have... I still have my reservations however, such a thing could be seen as a breach of the White-Gold Concordat if discovered..." the man quietly cautions, his task of identifying the Thalmor-influenced staff that worked around Governmental Offices had been a difficult one, but swiftly completely with the assistance of the College of Whispers.
"Your worries have been noted. I'll have you work with Redis here to complete his duties... If he fails or refuses, report to me immediately." he says, glaring at the rapidly shrinking man.
"By your word, Emperor."
The duo leave and Titus slumps in his chair, his duty was to the protection of the Empire and its people, not the placement of himself or his kin on the throne. He would not fail his duties again.
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Elsewhere, Surtr rapidly sits up from his bed, his harem splayed out around him groaning sweetly at the disruption to their sleep. He'd felt something, a powerful dragon awakening... He didn't know how or why, only where, and its name... Miraak.
He sensed it somewhere North, and since he was currently in Windhelm, that could only mean a few things... Either it was somehow in Atmora, which shouldn't exist anymore... Or it was on the largest nearby island, a contested territory known as Solstheim.
Surtr climbs out of bed, pushing some women onto the floor as he does so before making his way to the throne room. "HAS ANYONE RECEIVED ANY WORD AT ALL FROM SOLSTHEIM!? ANY MERCHANTS? ANY WANDERERS!?" he exclaims, looking around to find his personal servant.
"WHY HAS NO ONE MADE ME AWARE OF THIS!?" he angrily shouts, feeling like his servant and advisor's negligence may have made way for trouble to befall them all... He didn't know who Miraak was but he certainly had no wish to fight another Alduin, last time he'd only won with the help of many past heroes and lady luck herself.
"Surtr! Solstheim is not Skyrim territory! It belongs to the elves of the east, why should we care what goes on there?" Ralof asks as he shuffles into the room, still wiping sleep from his eyes.
Surtr scowls at his Housecarl, "I don't care if a cat shits in Hammerfell! I want to know about it! I need to know about it! AM I NOT YOUR KING!?"
...
"What's this about? You've never gone off like this before..." Ralof questions, ignoring the grimace of some of his servants, fully expecting the man to get skewered.
...
"There's something dangerous is Solstheim and I need to go check it..." he strides out of the hall to go get his armour.
"What? Now? That's a week-long boat trip!"
Surtr shakes his head, "By Dragon."
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It doesn't take long for Surtr to make his way across the Northern Ocean, riding his personal dragon and accompanied by three others he'd managed to resurrect
Soon enough he reached one of the only real settlements of the Island, Raven Rock, he lands outside of it and waits for someone to receive him... Not many would refuse a man and his four dragons.
Of course, the greeting he receives is not what he expected... Eleven shadows appear overhead and begin circling him, their silhouettes making it obvious as to what they are. Dragons.
Then, the gates to Raven Rock open up, allowing a masked man and his entourage to step out. They walk over, not fearing Surtr's dragons at all as they stop mere meters away, as if dragon fire wasn't a factor.
"Hail, identify yourself before Emperor Miraak!" a young pink-haired girl announces, causing Surtr to almost fall from his dragon... Another Dragonborn!?
"I am Dragonborn Surtr! High King of Skyrim and soon-to-be Emperor of Tamriel!" he shouts back after shaking the shock from his mind.
"Hmph, the 'Slayer of Alduin'." Miraak chuffs at him, "Only, you didn't really slay him, did you? Not in the way it matters, and not as you'd have everyone to believe."
"Lies told by a mad fool. What do you rule, 'Emperor'?" Surtr retorts, not taking the insult lying down.