Elder Scrolls Breton Novels & Stories

Eldric’s voice is laced with something between scorn and challenge, his eyes dark and accusing. My blood chills as I take in the sight of the familiar crest, the worn edges suggesting it’s been handled before now. Before I can respond, Eldric gives a slight nod, and Valen clears his throat, unfurling the scroll to read its contents aloud. The words echo through the chamber, each sentence sharper than the last: “To my dearest brother,

I reminded. She laughed a little. “Right, that.” I brought her hand up to kiss it. “We’ve got this love.” She gave me that troublesome smirk. “Oh, I know.” “Come on out Brennus. I know you’re here. Come out and bring that weasel Aragon with you!” Eligor spat. “You’re an audacious one calling other people weasels,” Greier spoke up from where she was. Not being able to find her was definitely playing tricks on Eligor, who visibly hadn’t expected to hear her. “Greier? What are you doing here?”

Xavier and Ceres sit across from each other, the scroll between them. Xavier (carefully breaking the wax seal): "Feels wrong to open it. Like I'm cracking open someone's grave." Ceres (gently): "Then treat it like an exhumation. Not to desecrate—just to bring the truth into the light." He unrolls the scroll—fine parchment, preserved miraculously—names upon names inked in blood-dark script. Xavier (reading softly): "Narel Flame-Eyed. Caelum Ashwing. Idris of the Second Vein. Eyla Moonvein. Alric Flameborn..."

"Well then, let's begin. Allan puts on silver armor, a helmet for his head, armor for his shoulders, a chest plate, and armor in his large down to his feet. The 100 Elite ready mounted on high horses as they gallop through the road. The sun faded into night and a massive fortress made of stone stood in front of him. Rudeus Army roughly 10,000 knights surrounded the Elve fortress. The bell rang out and swiftly Elve stood atop The high wall knocking arrows to their bows. Rudeus ride his horse gently to the front and shouted "Hilligard, you spoilt brat! I have come for your head. If anything happens to my daughter. I will have your head on a platter. Give them a warning shot" Rudeus knights pus

Ethan’s smile dropped and he slammed his eyes shut. I frowned, filled with impatience, as I watched his lips move rapidly. “She is still alive,” he said with his eyes still closed. “I know. She is missing,” I snapped a reply. “The mountain of ravens in the middle of the dangerous waters of Ardelene in the land of the elves.” My brows snapped up and my mother gasped in disbelief. “The elves?” she whispered, slapping her lips with her palm. “For once, you have helped me,” I muttered and Ethan opened his eyes, staring into my dark eyes with a flicker of mischief sweeping against his face.

Nathan squealed delightedly from the spin, raised his chubby hands and shouted, “Daddy!” I handed the smaller card to Helena who read it with a wide grin on her face and when she was done reading, she looked at me. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!” When I dialed the number at the back of the smaller card, a woman with a heavy French accent picked up and said, “ Mon Dieu, Monsieur Bolt will be so delighted that you called. My name is Madame Elodie and the fine gentleman has asked that we give you a swirl time. What you say, Mon bijou?”

Julien’s eyes crinkle with amusement when Elsida’s spine straightens and she stalks towards the blonde crouched beneath him. What was she doing? he mused. “Get up!” Elsida bellowed, her eyes flared as she pulled the blonde’s ponytail. “Get off me bitch!,” the blonde snapped as she feared her head, glaring daggers at Elsida. Julien snapped a finger and the blonde’s head snapped to his, “Partir,” he drawled in French.

“You know. You have enough spies. I was by the bridge, waiting to get the fuck out of Volare when Cass turned around and screamed the rejection oath at him. The full spiel.” Elle tilted her head, weighing up my determined statement. “Okay then. Well, in the interest of not pretending, would you like me to read this? Elder Brent’s handwriting really is appalling isn’t it? This is you…” pointing towards the etching of a leafy plant. Pale blue, leafy fronds, a bit of gold edging. “Yep, I guess that that is my brand.” “Well, would you like to know what your wolf tends to achieve in the past?”

They cheer and weep and call me saint and savior and bride. I stare straight ahead. The roses look like splashes of blood against the snow. At the northern gate waits a second cage-wagon, larger, drawn by eight black horses that steam and stamp. The bars are carved with runes that hurt to look at. Eldorian emissaries stand beside it (tall, pale, armor like liquid night, eyes glowing faint violet). Their skin is marked with moving runes that crawl like living tattoos. One steps forward (female, wings like fractured glass folded against her back).

"You bring the pattern of the kill-switch, Luna of the Ridge. We have been... expecting you." Elara stepped forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn't let her posture falter. She held the sealed scroll—the "maintenance instructions"—as if it were a declaration of war. "The Ridge does not leave its allies to unravel, Grendel. We provide the repairs."