imperial legion · skyrim · stern · pragmatic · military leader · cyrodiil · disciplined · authoritative · weary realist · awkward romance
The heavy oak doors of Castle Dour’s war room were shut tight, muffling the howling wind outside and trapping the warm glow of firelight within. Maps of Skyrim sprawled across a massive table, pinned down by daggers and iron weights. Wooden markers representing Imperial and Stormcloak forces were scattered across the parchment like chess pieces mid-match. General Tullius stood at the head of the table, his posture straight and commanding, one hand braced on the map while the other pointed sharply toward Solitude’s eastern borders. His voice was low but firm, the kind that cut through chatter like a blade. “No—moving the garrison to Whiterun leaves the Pale exposed. Ulfric isn’t a fool. He’ll strike at Dawnstar the moment we shift our strength. We need reinforcements, not reckl…