Chapter I
The Summoning
The war was over. Tullius himself was executed. What more could be done for the cause? As the Dragonborn pondered this, Bjorlam drove the carriage ever onward, past the peaks and valleys and into Eastmarch. Skyrim was recovering beautifully since Ulfric took charge. The economy was booming as more and more became employed under the Stormcloak banner. Galmar Stone-Fist had a throng of recruits at his personal training center, the newly rebuilt Fort Amol. The Dragonborn continued to wonder about his summons. What could Ulfric possibly need him for? The Empire had been driven back down to Cyrodiil, and peace had been in the land for five years.
"Almost there my friend," announced Bjorlam snapping the Dragonborn's attention away from his thoughts. As the snow fell upon the crags, Soloman began to spy the great City of Kings, Windhelm. He had lived in the city for four years, until he finished his homestead on the shores of Lake Illinalta. He figured his kids would be better growing up at the lake house rather than the city, as theft was common in the slums that was known as the Grey Quarter.
"Ah, thank you Bjorlam you are a good man. Here's fifty septims." replied the Dovahkiin, pressing the coinpurse into the carriage drivers palm.
"But the fare from Whiterun is only twenty gold. You are too generous, I cannot accept this charity." Bjorlam didn't think he could remember the last time someone payed him fifty gold instead of the usual twenty.
"But you will, my friend, you have borne me many times on my journeys, always safely and hastily. Please accept this as a ...eh a tip," replied Soloman closing his loyal driver's hand on the gold.
Bjorlam thought for a moment about it. He had a wife, kids to feed. Surely they needed this. 'You are a good man, Soloman, may you die with a sword in your hands."And with that the Dovahkiin hopped down from the carriage and began to traverse the lengthy bridge to the capital of the Nordic people. Now all he had left to do was wonder why his King summoned him.
"Stormblade. It's an honor," greeted Rolff Stone-Fist, clutching his right hand over his heart. Rolff was the newly appointed Captain of the Bridge, an honor not commonly given to whelps. He had enlisted with the army two years after the war ended, as he would not fight the civil war at the age of sixteen. His father, Galmar Stone-Fist, wouldn't allow his only son to be killed for the cause until he came of age.
"By Talos do you have any idea why I was summoned." Soloman desperately hoped he knew, for the question was burning in the back of his skull, waiting to be extinguished with an answer.
"No sir. But I have noticed an awful lot of the old war heroes have been arriving here in the past few days. Soloman whatever is going on it's something big. I'd expect you should be heading towards the palace, and quickly too because this seems like a war is on the horizon."
"Talos guide you Rolff," Soloman pushed the massive doors open and headed into the city.
"Soloman, what a pleasure it is to see you. I expect you remember me after two long years of not living in this city," called Captain Lonely-Gale. Damn he'd changed, he was in the wee years of his silver years. His new job has taken its toll on the man, but when you're the Admiral of the Navy of Skyrim that tends to happen.'I expect you are here for the Council of Captains."
That was the reason of his summoning: Lord Ulfric needed counsel. It made sense to summon all of his Captains to assist him in a matter. "Captain. I mean Admiral. Please escort me to the Palace of the Kings."
"As you wish Dovahkiin. But please, call me Captain, for I claim to miss that title very much." Captain Lonely-Gale then walked with the Dragonborn past Candlehearth Hall, and into the courtyard of Lord Ulfric's castle.
"Halt! in the name of the King. Only those on the list of Captains and the Wise may enter. Speak your purpose or begone!" cried the Captain of the gate.
"I am Soloman Stormblade, and this is the Admiral of the Navy, Captain Lonely-Gale. We are some of the most high ranking officers in the military. If you refuse to let us in I will kill you where you stand. I do not wish to harm a lietenant of my lord, for that would be treason against my country. You need only to admit us to our summoning, lest you wish to die." The guard saw in Soloman now what he hadn't before: the fire of the Kings of Old, and he was in awe, yet afraid at the same time.
"Let them pass. They're on the list." The guards then opened the doors and sent one forth to guide the Dragonborn to his King.