When Amelia approached the camp, it was all she could do not to turn and flee. A large number of Lion Guard soldiers stood outside, and by the gate stood him—her father—along with a soldier whose armor suggested he was a Lion Guard officer, and a robed mage, an Altmer who towered over all the Bretons and looked out of place. But she didn’t run away. She had meant it when she had told Chamberlain Weller she was no longer afraid of the man. She refused to let him intimidate her ever again.
At the center of the vast swamp of Glenumbra Moors lay the site of an ancient battle between the Direnni and the Alessians. They called it a fort, but there really wasn’t much to it except for a few rotting log walls and a cave with a heavy door. Today it was teeming with people, mostly mages, who stood outside the gate, peering onto the battlefield or casting spells. A large tent stood off to one side, and smaller ones were placed nearby.
An officious-looking orc stood near the gate, and Amelia went up to her. “I’m looking for whoever is in charge,” she said. “I’m from Aldcroft.”