Bab 692: Empiric
"Damn... Damn!" Surtr intones as the wind whips his face under his helmet, he could now see Windhelm in the distance but he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to do once he got there. He knew his rule wouldn't last past a couple weeks after the disaster that was Solstheim, and his options elsewhere were rather limited too... Not to mention the possibility of a wrathful Michael returning.
Miraak was dead but without his body, his power would go unclaimed, that wouldn't be all that bad if it wasn't for the fact that Michael's men had been the ones to do it. They'd deliver his soul to their master and Michael would be unbeatable.
Surtr knew he was he is now wouldn't last a minute against him, and now with a high likelihood of his people rebelling against him? He had no one he could trust, no more power to grasp, no plans to follow. To him the battle was lost... But, what does a King with a crumbling Kingdom do?
Some give into despair.
Some beg for mercy.
Some sell their wives and daughters to escape retribution...
And some? They call for a higher power.
...
Surtr quickly shuffles into the Palace of Kings and is shocked to almost be stampeded upon by his 'still' loyal servants.
"My king! My king! Word has come from Cyrodil!"
He squints his eyes as the many servants all try to relay the same news, as if being the one delivering it would grant them some magical boon. "What is it?" he sharply questions.
"The Emperor is dead! Many families in the Empire want you to take his place!" one maid excitedly exclaims, her chest heaving as if she'd run a marathon.
. . .
"Speak once more... I think I misheard you..." he asks after taking some time to process everything.
"THE EMPEROR IS DEAD! LONG LIVE THE RIGHTFUL EMPEROR!" a male servant shouts with tears streaming down his face.
...
Surtr shakes the thought of relieving the man of his duty on the spot and begins walking towards his quarters, "Prepare the city, I have an announcement to make for the 'joyous' occasion."
The men and women scramble to do as they're told, and an hour or so later Surtr was stood at the top of the steps that led into the Palace of Kings with most of Windhelm standing before him. Even the Dunmer from the grey-quarters were present despite their neutral feelings towards him.
"People of Skyrim! It has been made known to me that the Emperor of the Empire, the one we once fought for and then freed ourselves of due to the Thalmor's tyranny, has died! While some of you may wish to celebrate this, I will not! For despite the late Titus Mede II's failings as a Warrior and General, as an Emperor he led his people to greater prosperity, far more than his father had!
If it weren't for the Thalmor trampling on his peaceful nature, Skyrim would still be with the Empire! And we'd be all the better for it!..." he lets that sit for a moment before continuing.
"However! While peace for us is within sight, there are more wars to be waged, and freedom to be acquired! For every drop of blood we cast we reach just that one step closer to true prosperity! We will pave a road with Alduin's bones! With Thalmor skulls! And the blood of anyone else who would dare stand in our way!...
But! Skyrim is weak! Still recovering from its self-inflicted wounds! The Civil War hurt us far more than I could say in this day alone! This is why I have decided, by right of blood, to make a claim for the seat of the Empire as its rightful Emperor!" he announces, but the reaction from the crowd is less enthused than he'd wished.
Most of the people here had been Ulfric and subsequently, his greatest supporters. They'd lost sons, husbands, wives, and daughters to the numerous conflicts that'd raged across Skyrim... Yet now he was announcing even more wars? How could they be excited? Especially since they were essentially rejoining the Empire after struggling so much to leave it...
Surtr nods his head down at the quietly murmuring crowd, "I see some of you are not certain with my decision... We have lost too many of our own, and I agree with the sentiment, which is why I want the Empire to spill its blood for us! Skyrim will be the seat of power as we enter this new age! It is Skyrim that will rule! And Skyrim that will flourish!... Let my words reach you, as they have our enemies! GOL HAH DOV!" he adds at the end, using the Bend Will shout to assure their loyalty.
The murmuring stops as the shockwave wash over them, and the cheering starts. Surtr raises his arms in the air and takes it all in, knowing that his plan to perform the same 'speech' would likely be obstructed once word of it got out.
He'd need to do so quickly, and before Michael or his servants could do anything to stop it. He calls for his dragon and immediately begins flying towards the nearest city, Riften. He had considered flying over Winterhold and dropping Bend Will shouts all over the city, but he then remembered the defences installed in the Spire, and how they'd annihilated an Imperial army in almost no time at all...
"Let's see what Brynjolf has to say about his dear friend... How much does the Thieves Guild truly know? Hm?"
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
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