[b]Thanks so much. This is a kind of interlude section. There is no violence in this chapter, but it sets up the scene for how the world is in 200 Fourth Era (the time of the fifth game in the franchise). This is written by Gregzilla and The Doctor.[/b]


[size=4]Chapter 5: Past to Present[/size]

[i]4E 200
Dead Man's Drink Inn, Falkreath
Falkreath Hold, Skyrim
Nirn[/i]

Falkreath was the major city within Falkreath Hold, although one of the smaller ones in Skyrim, with litte in the way of defenses like a surrounding wall, not to mention the strategic disadvantage of lying in a valley.  Still, one could hardly argue that it was a more peaceful place, more like a farming village than an actual city.  Once, Falkreath had been a part of Cyrodill, but had become a part of Skyrim later.  Not that anyone seemed to care much about what territory they were apart.  It really was just a farming village, after all.

The cloaked man sat in the Dead Man's Drink inn, pretty much the central meeting place for anyone in the small city.  The drink sat on the counter next to him, untouched, only there to keep up appearances.  Being a Reploid, Zero did not need to drink at all.  Instead, he simply at there, hoping that the Sergeant would get there in the time specified in his message.  He was mostly sure that she would, having respoded to most of his messages before, but there was always something that could get in the way.

A woman walked in through the front door, the same dark brown clothing on. This time, however, in the middle of the day, she wasn't accosted by anyone. Some might have thought she was some kind of sellsword or something, or at least a woman pretending to be one, seeing as she definitely wasn't a Nord with her hair color. The woman sat at Zero's table, pulling back her hood. She knew that wearing such a hood generally was a way to [i]attract[/i] attention, and nobody else was wearing one in here, so she just rolled with it. "Barkeep, a flagon of Nord mead," she said. After the container came over along with two glasses, she just left it there, however, giving only that which she had to. It was mostly to keep their conversation unknown anyway, since it wasn't like anyone would bother with someone else drinking. Finally she spoke to him, looking over his dirty, scratched form. "You look like hammered sh**," she said rather bluntly. "What the hell happened when I went off, you go through three blenders?"

Zeros frowned.  Of course, he knew that the Sergeant was not being serious, anyone could identify the sarcasm in her voice.  And it was indeed true that he had been through many a fight through the years.  His armor still held together perfectly well, but one could easily see the dents in it, the scratches in his helmet.

"It's what happens after being around almost constantly for nearly two hundred years.  You tend to get a few dings in the armor."  Zero knew that this was untrue for any human, of course, it was his own attempt at making a joke in response to Azumi's.  He realized he shouldn't try it too often.

Azumi rolled her eyes at the counter-joke, but did smile a bit. Just the smallest smirk. Whether at him or with him, it was hard to tell, but at least she appreciated the effort.

"You know why we're here."  He continued.  "The Nirn branch is expanding steadily."  After two centuries, the Assassins Guild that had started in Cyrodiil had grown into other territories of Nirn.  "New recruits are coming in steadily, and those that have grown to the suitable rank are able to teach them.  Nestal did preciesly as he was asked.  He and his descendents have made the way for the Assassins to have great allies in the Morag Tong, and we've been hunting down the Dark Brotherhood, which, while proving to be elusive, is slowly weakening."

The Mentor of the Interference Assassins nodded. "Where are we based? What's happened? How weak are they? I keep hearing something about dragons, the Thalmor, the Stormcloaks and the Cyrodiilic Empire, Argonia, too." She paused a moment. "A map might help, if you brought one." She motioned to the mead. "Feel free. Don't know if you take any."

[Stays for a month every few years of first 40, then every couple of decades for a month until Skyrim. Bases established in Hammerfell (outside the Empire), High Rock, Skyrim (outside the Empire), and Cyrodiil, the latter more for information gathering than anything. Also remarking on what happened to Morrowind.]