Capítulo 695: Slow Rise
Riften was the first city to fall under Surtr's thrall. His tactic of simply flying over the city and using the Bend Will shout on every corner of it was stupidly effective. The shout was able to pass through a few walls before dissipating, allowing him to reach even those inside their basements from the sky.
The only people who were protected against this were those who lived in the Ratway, along with the Thieves Guild, this was easily rectified however by simply having the entire city march down there and drag anyone that wasn't controlled out.
Brynjolf was actually somewhat resistant against the mind control, but when subjected to a dozen or more at point-blank range his resistance quickly fell. He was all too eager to offer the location and identity of every member and hideout of the Thieves Guild.
After the main city was done, he made the effort to fly around the local farms and fisheries to bring the stragglers to heel. It had probably been the quickest invasion in history, if you disregarded the fact that he technically already ruled said city...
Regardless, he had Brynjolf give him everything he had on Michael and his acquaintances, only to find very little in the way of leverage. Most information was old and now inaccurate, even the discory that Michael owned the Skyrend Company didn't help as it'd ceased any and all weapons manufacturing after Alduin had been killed. The only purpose the company served nowadays was creating strange technologies that didn't look too dissimilar from what the Dwemer had.
Those 'Fatherclocks', while intriguing, didn't help him at all in their conflict... Though, he did find a peculiar device in one of the company's shops... It was a black and yellow rectangular object with strange compressable circles dotted on what seemed to be its front, along with a glass screen and 'grill'?
Surtr presses the big red button and the thing crackles to life, and not a moment later someone answers it...? "Skyrend Whiterun, password and designation please."
Mildly panicking, Surtr throws the thing at the wall, shattering it and rendering it a million little pieces of scrap...
"Daedric device... I should have known he would be doing something like this... Containing souls inside little black boxes!? Who knew he was capable of such evil!?"
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After Riften fell, he made way for Falkreath next... Surprisingly, this was a far harder task than the last as the Hold's spread-out rural population didn't allow him to catch large swathes of people in one shout. This forced him to spend a day tracking people down via their friends and relatives...
Thankfully Falkreath's isolation was made for by its relatively small population, allowing him to quickly move on to his next target... Whiterun.
Except, once he flew into sight of the city, he was baffled to find a group of dragons circling it... Three of which had humanoid silhouettes riding them. "Miraak..." his face falls as he utters, realising that his foe somehow hadn't been killed in Solstheim... Had Michael's men lied about it? No... He saw the explosion, and they had no reason to spare him either...
Wait... Wasn't Alduin able to resurrect dragons with a shout? It would likely work on Dragonborn too, right? They were dragons too!...
He shakes his head and prompts his dragon to approach, flying slightly above the hostile beasts as he slowly neared the three riders.
"How joyous, the prodigal son has returned!" Miraak drawls, "Well? What now Surtr? You're here without your army, without those assassins to kill me for you... What can you possibly do"?
"Maybe you should tell me what your goal is for Whiterun?" Surtr grouses, realising just how bad his position was.
Miraak glances down at it, the peaceful city now sent into turmoil due to his and his dragon's presence. The place had almost been raised by a single dragon, yet there were over ten of them flying around now. "I plan to burn it," he points at Dragonsreach at the top of the town, "That is a symbol of our persecution, we Dragonborn can't allow such a blatant attack to stand... Is what I should say, but in reality, I just want to see the smoke rise." he states with a grin, the mask he was wearing a reconstruction of the one that'd been shattered, allowing parts of his face to show.
"You won't." Surtr promises, "I as Dragonborn was born here, it will stand."
Miraak tilts his head, "So? Try to stop me." he looks to the pink-haired girl flying on a dragon beside him. "Destroy them."
She nods, but as she's casting her spell Surtr speaks up once again, "I challenge you to a duel! Let us settle this as men, true Nords!"
...
"Hah? You want to challenge me? Again?" Miraak laughs, "In Solstheim I beat you to a pulp while my army watched. And now you want me to do it again? You who now faces a small army of dragons?"
Surtr nods firmly, "Do you refuse? Are you a coward!?" he growls challengingly.
...
"As you wish, there won't be any mercy this time however. When we reach the ground, I will kill you."
Surtr shakes his head, "No. It is you who will die today, you've lived long enough so it's time you move on. I doubt Sovngarde will accept scum like you though," he states as they both descend into a large field outside Whiterun, both ready to tear each other's throats out.
They set foot a good distance from one another and wait until their respective mounts leave...
"Remember what I said last, Surtr? The throne will be safe with me, I intend to live longer than the gods, and my Empire longer still."
"Hmph, you say that as if you've already won." Surtr growls as he draws Wuuthrad from his back, "Well then, come! This time will be different from last! Even death won't protect you from me!"
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