'Akatosh, looking with pity upon the plight of men, drew precious blood from his own heart, and blessed St. Alessia with this blood of Dragons, and made a Covenant that so long as Alessia's generations were true to the dragon blood, Akatosh would endeavor to seal tight the Gates of Oblivion, and to deny the armies of the daedra and undead to their enemies, the Daedra-loving Ayleids.' Those blessed by Akatosh with the "dragon blood" became known more simply as Dragonborn.
- The Book of the Dragonborn, Emelene Madrine, 360 3E.
The thunder rolled boomed within his head, echoing in his eardrums and bouncing about his skull as the lightning bolts soared overhead. An endless rain of arrows battered against stone and shields, men screaming when they lost the strength to hold their shields up and succumbed to the deadly downpour. They were coming, he could hear their war drums even above the arrows and thunder. They came ever forward, hauntingly beautiful and carrying the promise that those drums would be the last thing he would ever hear. The rhythm was chilling and constant, never wavering nor faltering as it grew ever closer and louder. Suddenly his very body was moved as a great crash was heard at the gates.
They were at the gates. Oh gods, they were there!
His breathes were uneven and frantic, exhausted as he was as fear began its icy route throughout his body. His heart was pounding against his ribcage and his arms began to shake beneath the weight of his shield. The arrows kept falling, and the men kept screaming.
BANG!
Another crash against the gates. How many had it been? He had somehow lost count even as he stared down the gates. The man next to him whimpered, and the scent of blood was filling his nostrils with an inhumane metallic stench.
BANG!
Suddenly he could see it, a crack within the ancient wood crew larger as it spiraled up the gate. The lazily crack traveled ever up seemingly in slow motion, almost mocking the men was they hoped in vain that the gates would hold. He could hear the ancient wood strain, groaning as if the great black dragon upon it was bellowing it's death cries to the world. Suddenly, the rain of arrows stopped, and all stood still. There was no sound, there was no time, there was no him. There was only the gate, and the crack that split the great Imperial dragon down the middle.
BANG!
Time began almost in a rush, as the sound of steel being drawn from leather filled the air and the clanking of armor as the men frantically moved their shields in unison as lightning and arrows appeared once more. The shields weathered the final storm, and he drew his sword.
"This is it! For the Empire, for the Legion! For your families!..." The distant rallying cry of a familiar man came, and he looked over to see the man that had been his guide in life, wielding that holy blade. The sight of the blade filled him with hope, even if he knew that this would be his last day on Tamriel.
BANG! CRASSSHHH!
The ancient wood fell and a wave of gold was upon them. The fury of the gold swept down upon them like waves upon the shore, and suddenly there was no friendly men. No men that he knew, that he had shared ale and laughs with. There was only red and steel as he swung his sword frantically. His face was red, he couldn't see. Too many. Too many. Too -
Date: 17th of Last Seed, 201 4E
Location: Just outside of Helgen
BANG!
Romulus Vincere was jolted out of his nightmares by a simple bump in the road and the uncomfortable sensation of a nail driving it's way into his ass, and the smell of horse shit and blood. His head was pounding and felt wet and sticky. Blood no doubt. His vision was hazy at best for now, but his hearing had returned at least. Slowly, his senses came back to him and he opened his bleary eyes, letting them focus in the cold foggy Skyrim air. Sighing, the Imperial shook his head to and fro, shaking away the last of the dizziness.
"Hey you, you're finally awake!" an unknown voice called out from just in front of him.
Romulus looked up to see a blond Nordic man in leathers and a blue sash in front of him, wearing a small and strained smile. His blonde hair was long, reaching his shoulders with a single braid on his right side. He had a neatly kept beard as well that gave him a roguish appearance. His wrists were bound, and suddenly Romulus realized his hands were bound as well. Taking another look at the man's garb, Romulus could see that it was a fighting man's garb. Dark iron chainmail beneath a quilted vest offering minimal protection for maximum mobility.
"You were trying to cross the border right? Got caught up in that Imperial ambush same as us, and that thief over there." The blonde man said, moving his head towards the back of the cart Leonidas didn't remember getting on.
Looking to where the nord gestured, Romulus could see another Nordic man. This time, the man was dark-haired and had a seedy air about him. Combined with his dark clothing it was easy to see that the man was clearly someone who had been on the wrong side of the law multiple times. The man's sunken eyes darted to and fro, and his bound hands twitched every so often. The man's dark hair was matted with mud and slicked back. The man's dirty face was twisted with anger and desperation as he snarled back at the blonde man:
"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy... If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell!" Stormcloak... That name was vaguely familiar to Romulus, as though he had heard it before. Almost as if... no, he had seen him be surrounded by the elves. He could still hear the man's roars of defiance as he was swung his axe to and fro, defiant to the last.
"You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." He growled out, spitting out the name Stormcloak as though it were the worse thing in Tamriel.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The blonde man snarked back, putting emphasis on the word thief as if to remind the man that his own title was far from better than Stormcloak.
"Shut up back there!" An Imperial soldier barked from the front of the cart they were on, driving them onwards towards their destination.
Silence reigned in the cart, and Romulus took the time to gather his scattered thoughts and memories. He remembered the battle, and the desperation as the Thalmor pushed at the gates. He, Sir Aenar, his older brother Knight-Commander Remus as well as a handful of others going forth to buy the rest time to evacuate the civilians. They had been successful, if the death of all but he, Aenar, and Remus could be considered a success. The civilians had escaped, and Brother Malcolm would guide them to what was left of Skingrad. They however, would not be so lucky. The knights had fought, and lost. Aenar and he had fought their way to the chapel, where Remus had last been seen entering. There they found him, broken and bleeding but still standing, the mace in one shaky and bloody hand and the sword... The sword! His breath came quicker, even as he moved his hand slowly towards his hip. Upon feeling the sack and hearing the rattle of the shards caused him to let out a small breath of relief. Strange, how the presence of his greatest failure brought him relief. Perhaps he was simply going mad.
"What's wrong with him huh?" Came the oily voice of the horse-thief, and Romulus quickly looked up with lips parted. The words died on his tongue however, when he saw that the horse-thief hadn't been speaking of him.
No, the horse-thief's curious and sullen gaze was upon the last, until then unnoticed, occupant of their little band of misfits. The man was a nord, big and garbed in heavy armor. The man's hair was blonde like the nord across from Romulus, but this nord's hair was darker and held a hint of grey. The man's armor was a dark grey, with pauldrons stylized like bears upon the nord's broad shoulders. A chain went across the man's neck, connected to a circle, on which Romulus could see a bear. A long blue sash went down the nord's front, going down to his towards his ankles and up across his left shoulder. Underneath the cloak Romulus could see chainmail and heavy plate. The man's hair was pushed back, with presumably a warriors braid alongside his face. The man turned his head, and Romulus felt a jolt of recognition shoot through him. Impossible...
"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" The nord across from Romulus snarled out.
Ulfric... Oh yes, Romulus remembered the man. He had shared ale with him, laughed with him and his friends that Romulus could barely remember now. Ulfric had been one of the best legionnaires that Romulus had the pleasure of serving alongside with when the Knights joined the war. A fantastic warrior, he could use a sword in unison with his fellow legionnaires like any practiced solider, but he really shone when he fought in the chaos of the skirmish with his axe. Ulfric had always been the first to laugh and the first to jump into the fray. He was always the last to put down his cup and the last to leave the battlefield. Fiercely loyal to his friends and the Empire, Romulus had been proud to call him friend. Yet for all of that, for all his claims of friendship, Romulus still left him behind on that fateful day to his fate. One of his many regrets.
Ulfric looked much older than before, his face wrinkled by age and stress. No surprise, considering it had been many years since he had last seen his friend. Strangely enough, he was gagged. Perhaps Ulfric had been to witty once more, and the Imperials grew tired of it. The Ulfric he remembered had a tongue as sharp as his sword, and the wit to know how to use it best. Romulus remembered Ulfric's dark blue eyes dancing with mischief just before the captain would bark at Ulfric to shut it, and Ulfric always had a smart remark in response. Those were better days...
"Ulfric?! The Jarl of Windhelm?!" The horse-thief gasped in horror, then his voice grew quiet and hoarse "You're the leader of the rebellion! But if they've captured you... oh gods, where are they taking us?!" He exclaimed in terror.
Rebellion? That was most unlike the Ulfric Romulus had met all those years ago. Ulfric had been the first to defend the Empire's honor whenever new recruits would question why they were fighting the war. Granted, the Empire wasn't so great now a days, especially after the signing of the Concordant. Still, for a man as loyal as Ulfric had been to lead a full blown rebellion against the Empire he had once loved so dearly? What in Oblivion had happened to his friend? Ulfric had turned his gaze upon the quivering theif, and the man seemed to wilt under Ulfric's intense gaze. Ulfric stared the thief down for a little longer, then sighed around his gag, slumping over a little.
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." The nord across from Romulus said quietly and solemnly. Romulus remembered Aenar talking about Sovngarde, about how it was where Nords aspire to go to after an honorable death. This death was presumably in battle, but Romulus didn't know the specifics. He wasn't a nord anyhow, being of Imperial blood he was destined for Aetherius. It seemed that their current destination was simply death, so perhaps the physical destination didn't matter so much.
After the Nord's solemn words, Ulfric turned his gaze towards him. His dark eyes were a little saddened and apologetic, almost as if he were silently apologizing to the man in front of him. Ulfric then turned his gaze upon Romulus, and his eyes widened in disbelief. Romulus, being just as unprepared as Ulfric for this unforseen meeting in such a small world, could only offer a wan smile in greeting. Ulfric and Romulus exchanged no words, but the glances said it all for the two friends. Ulfric nodded nodded at him, Romulus nodded back, and the two looked down in unison with nothing more between them. What words could their be after almost 20 years? Romulus breathed out heavily through his nose. Well, if he were to die, at least he would die with one less regret in his heart. That was something at least.
They traveled along in silence for a time, the only sounds being the sound of the cart as it wheeled over the rough road and the snorts of horses as the Imperial sentries passed by. The mood was somber, and the men thought of their families and regrets. To Romulus' surprise, the silence of dead men was broken by the man across from him. Or, maybe it wasn't a surprise, considering how much the Nord spoke.
"Hey, what village do you hail from horse-thief?" The Nord said softly, glancing towards the nearly crying man.
The thief looked back fiercely. "Why do you care?"
"A Nord's last thoughts, should be of home." Came the soft response, and the thief swallowed with a grimace and looked down.
Likewise, Romulus looked down as well, and in his mind he could faintly hear the echo of a friend long gone-by.
'Funny, I should be terrified, but all I can think about is home...'
'You'll tell them right? Tell them I died bravely, tell the young ones I died a hero?'
'I'm sorry my dear friend, I won't be able too.' Romulus thought sadly, the knowledge that he would die before he could fulfill his friend's last wish bringing a tear to his eye. His heart was heavy, and the tear fell without a sound as it plopped onto the floor of the cart. Regret filled him, and it chewed at his heart. He knew now that the Divines had forsaken him long-ago when he had raised that sword, being so unworthy to wield it so. Perhaps this was simply his punishment. Still, he wished he had been at least able to fulfill his promise to his friend before the end.
"Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorickstead." Came the shaky response from the thief, prompting Romulus to finally look up and speak.
"You're from Rorickstead? Then p-perhaps you know a Mralki?" Romulus said hoarsely, the words tearing at his throat like daggers.
The thief looked surprised to be asked such a question from him, especially when he had been so silent before. "Aye, I know him. Last I saw him, he was in charge of the old Frostfruit Inn. Do you know him?"
Romulus looked away, his excitement abating. "No, but... but I wish I did. He was my friend's cousin, and his only family. I was hoping to tell him of his cousin's fate but now..." Romulus felt the words lodge in his throat "I guess I'll never get the change, eh?"
The thief looked away, and the man across from him nudged his knee with his bound hands with a smile on his face. "Eh, you never know right? Who knows, all they might do is give us a 'little off the top' eh?" The man joked with a roguish wink, and despite the sadness, Romulus chuckled.
Then he began to chuckle a little louder, and Ulfric next to him let out a small sound of his own. The thief smiled weakly, and the blonde Nord was the first to lose his composure despite him being the one to tell the joke. He began to laugh, deep belly laughs that were soon joined with Romulus' own. The thief began laughing as well, tears streaming down his face. Ulfric next to him was shaking, muffled laughter coming through the gag. The four men on their way towards death laughed as they traveled on, the Imperial sentries looking at them as if they had gone mad. Maybe they had, but it didn't really matter. Sheogorath would get a laugh out of it anyway. Eventually, the laughter stopped and the four men fell into silence once more. At least until the man across from him wiped a tear from his eye and spoke again.
"Hey Imperial, I never got your name."
"Romulus. Romulus Vincere. I hail... hailed from Skingrad."
"I'm Ralof, of Riverwood. It's good to meet you, Romulus Vincere from Skingrad. Though I don't supposed your skin will be grad-ful for the Imperial treatment, eh?" Ralof joked once more, prompting another round of laughter from the four men. Romulus felt inspiration strike him.
"Probably not, but I'm not sure crying a riverwood help!" Romulus barked out, smiling like a loon.
Ralof laughed loudly once more, and the four men dissolved into hysterics. Even the driver smiled, suddenly thankful that the prisoners couldn't see his face. Perhaps this trip just got a lot less boring and somber. So it went, the Ralof and Romulus cracking jokes back and forth as they went on ever closer to their death. Even the thief joined in with a terrible take on the word Rorickstead that normally would've gotten him punched but instead brought forth more laughter as though the men were drunken young ones again on their first night of reaching their majority.
Eventually the cart turned a corner, and suddenly Romulus could see a wall settlement coming closer. The men were still chuckling weakly, the walls reminding them of their fate. A voice hailed out from above the gate.
"General Tullius sir, the headsman is waiting!"
"Good," came the aged familiar voice "let's get this over with!"
Tullius. Romulus remembered family friend General Lucius introducing him to Legate Stannis Tullius, saying that Tullius had expressed interest in meeting him and his fellow knights to ask questions about the order. Romulus had laughed, saying that the order was nothing too special, but walked with the young man to his tent to introduce him to his fellow knights to talk over ale. Tullius was a good captain, a good commander, a good man, and a good friend. Now, it seems he would be a good General, and be his executioner.
The thief whimpered when he heard the words, and whispered out a quick prayer: "Shor. Mara. Dibella. Kynareth. Akatosh! Divines, please help me!"
Romulus regarded the thief with pity. 'Sorry friend, but the divine's left us to our fate a long time ago'.
"Look at him, General Tullius the Military-Governor." Ralof spit out. Military-Governor as well? Seems Stannis had done quite well for himself. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him! Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this!"
Romulus looked over, indeed seeing the unmistakable black and gold robes a Thalmor justiciar. Ralof was more correct then he knew. The Thalmor were probably there to personally make sure Romulus' head came off his shoulders. They had been hunting him for sometime now, seems they had finally caught him. They were probably why he was being executed with the Stormcloaks despite not being a rebel himself, quicker and easier to say he was a rebel than explain that the last Knight of the Nine was about to be executed. Romulus felt a little satisfaction. He knew they were looking for the sword, but took heart in the fact that they would never wield it. He remembered the text...
'Thou who spurned us, thou shall in turn be spurned. Thou shall never again wield thy righteous blades, thou shall never again don thy righteous arms... Oh ye of little faith, ye who doth not believe in our wisdom. In our love. In our compassion. In our power. Ye of little faith that would not believe, ye to shall not be believed in. Ye too, shall bear our justice, instead ye of little faith will bear witness to our wrath.'
The words he had read so often in his youth, had recited in his lessons, brought him comfort. The Thalmor would never wield the arms of the Divine Crusader, for their disbelief in Talos would always prohibit them. Even if they had accepted Talos as a divine, their wicked intentions would never allow them to make use of the powers of the Divines. They believe themselves gods, so it was wickedly ironic that the gods did not believe in them.
"Ah... this is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if her father, Vilod, is still making that mead with juniper-berries mixed in..." Came the nostalgic, soft tone of Ralof as the four passed by the inn. As they approached a courtyard and a tower, Ralof spoke again. "Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and Towers used to me feel so safe"
Romulus couldn't help but agree, and Ulfric next to him nodded solemnly. Once, Romulus had been proud to serve alongside the Red Legions of the Empire of Talos. Had worn the red diamond with pride, the Septim Dragon waving it's defiance in the face of the Great Eagle to the bitter end. Now?
This was not the Empire of Talos, and Romulus was not the same man.
The cart came to it's final stop, and Ralof turned to Romulus. "Let's go Romulus, shouldn't keep the God's waiting for us. I heard they wait quite a bit." Ralof joked one last time, a terrilbe joke to be sure. Still, Romulus smiled a little. A voice rang out over the commotion of wagons stopping and horses being dismounted.
"Step up to the block when we call your name, one at a time!"
Ralof sneaked in a jibe "Empire loves their damn list."
Romulus agreed.
"Wait, we're not rebels! You can't do this!" Came the desperate voice of the thief as they were made to stand.
"Face your death with some courage, thief." Ralof snarked back. The thief turned his eyes back towards Ulfric with pleading eyes.
"You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!" Ulfric simply stared back in silence, accepting his fate.
The thief began to shake, and he began crying. Romulus could only pity him as two Imperials came forward, one a women wearing an officer's helmet, and another wearing the typical armor of a rank-and-file legionnaire. The Imperial captain had a sour look on her face as she regarded them with disdain. Seems she was having a long day. The other was another nord, this one Red-haired and clean shaven. His blue droopy eyes regarded them with sorrow, but were determined all the same as he brandished his quill and parchment. Seems this man believed in the Empire, despite the farce it has turned into under Mede's efforts. The role-call began. Names were called and one by one, men and women alike, some nords, some elves, all came forward due their crime of high treason against an Empire that was a shadow of it's former self. Eventually, they reached the wagon that Romulus was on.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." Ulfric walked forward with the grace of a warrior of old, his head held high and his back straight, staring down the Imperial captain as he walked regally forward. The captain couldn't maintain his gaze, and looked away.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof called out.
'It's been an honor to call you friend, Ulfric' Romulus thought to himself, looking at the man as he walked forward.
"Ralof of Riverwood" And so he went.
"Lokir of Rorickstead" The thief came forward with tears in his eyes. "NO! Wait, please! I'm not a rebel! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"
The captain stared dispassionately back, and the red-haired legionnaire only stared back sadly in response. Suddenly, with a cry of desperation, Lokir sprang forward past the two, hitting the captain hard enough to make her fall over and her helmet to be disloged. By Akatosh the man was fast.
"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir shouted as he ran towards the gates. Romulus could see an archer on top of the tower nocking her bow and drawing back the steel-tipped arrow. Closing his eyes, Romulus heard the twang of a bowstring, and the cry of pain. Then, silence.
"Anyone else, feel like running?!" The Captain barked out, even more angry as she glowered towards the stoic Stormcloaks, readjusting her helmet.
"Wait, you there, step forward." Romulus knew he was finally being referred to, and also knew with certainly that his name wasn't on that list. He also knew that didn't matter, he would die regardless. Perhaps it was fitting, for the failure of a knight to be executed as a traitor against the Empire he had lost his family for. He walked forward numbly, and the legionnaire looked back down at the list with confusion on his face, flipping through the pages. Not finding his name, he dipped his quill into the ink on his board, and looked up.
"Who are you?"
'Well, couldn't hide forever. Running was pointless anyway.'
"My name is Romulus Vincere, Knight-Errant of the Knights of the Nine, and the last of my order. I hail from Skingrad, in Cyrodiil. I fought in the Great War with the 4th Legion, as was there when they were annihilated. My only crime is my belief in the gods, and in the Empire that you fight for that is not enough to warrant execution." Romulus said with strength and authority, a tone he hadn't used since the war, and a tone he certainly didn't really feel in his heart.
The Thalmor Justiciar he had seen was a women, and had a sour look on her face as Romulus revealed his identity. Good, let her plans of letting him die quietly be ruined. The legionnaire was speechless, and the Captain was looking at him with shock even if her face was still darkened. Romulus looked at Tullius. Tullius looked at him with a silent apology, then turned away. That was all Romulus needed to know.
"You uhm, er... you realize that being a part of any order that still worships Talos is illegal yes? Including your order?" The legionnaire questioned, still shocked.
"I'm aware."
The legionnaire nodded, and looked away towards the Captain. Lamely, he offered a small defense in his stead. "... He's not on the list Captain."
The Captain regarded the legionnaire with disdain. "You heard his admission, he still worships Talos. Forget the list, he goes to the block."
The legionnaire looked like he was going to protest, but closed his mouth. He turned back to Romulus. "I'm sorry Imperial, but the rules... I'll make sure your remains make it back to Cyrodiil, and hopefully to Skingrad."
Romulus offered a wan smile in return. "It's quite alright, I expected this anyway. So much for the Imperial justice that we were once so proud of. But thank you, for trying to reassure me."
The legionnaire nodded, and Romulus walked past the duo and fell in line with the Stormcloaks, coming to a stop next to Ralof, and nodding towards Ulfric. Ulfric nodded back with pride in his eyes, then turned away towards General Tullius. Tullius went up to Ulfric, coming close despite being almost a head shorter than Ulfric. Tullius looked drained, but also triumphant. "Ulfric Stormcloak... Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!"
Ulfric simply growled back in response, unimpressed. Ralof leaned a little towards Romulus, and whispered.
"Are you really a Knight of the Nine?"
"Aye." Romulus whispered back, and Ralof regarded him with some awe.
"That takes some serious balls to admit that, especially when you could've left here alive if you had played it right."
"I try. I wouldn't have left here alive though, the Thalmor have been hunting me for sometime now. I was going to die regardless." Romulus shrugged, and Ralof nodded.
"I can see that."
The two tuned back in to Tullius' speech towards the end ("...going to put you down, and restore the peace!") just in time to hear a strange sound echo throughout the mountains. The sound was unlike anything Romulus had ever heard before, but it made his heart soar with familiarity as though he had known it his whole life. Everyone's eyes turned towards the Jerall Mountains, scanning the horizon for a yet unknown reason. It was the red-haired legionnaire that spoke up first.
"What was that?" His slightly wavering voice came, his eyes still turned towards the sky. General Tullius dismissed it as only a military commander on the brink of victory could dismiss crucial details.
"It's nothing, carry on." He spoke with conviction, utterly focused on seeing Ulfric's head roll.
The Captain nodded, her hand going across her chest in typical Legion salute. "Yes, General Tullius." She turned towards the tower, and gestured towards Romulus and the others.
"Give them their last rites." She said softly, and a previously unseen priestess, judging by her figure through the thick robes, came forward, arms raising towards the sky. A priest of Arkay then. She began with the typical introduction of their last rites.
"As we commend your souls to Aetheriuis, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you..."
"For the love of Talos! Shut up, and let's get this over with!" A Stormcloak soldier came forward, rudely interrupting the terribly important final rites that they had all been looking forward to hearing so as to calm their damned souls. Romulus couldn't be happier. The priestess was less so.
"As you wish..." She snarked out, crossing her arms and shaking her head, muttering about 'hot-headed nords' and what not. Romulus barely contained a smirk. Smirking wasn't appropriate when a man was about to get his head cut off, but he couldn't help it. Even in the end, it seemed these men were defiant to the last. Admirable. The soldier that had come forward was already on his knees, bent forward with his head upon the stone. As the headsman raised his axe, the soldier had one parting sentence for the Imperials.
"My ancestors are smiling upon me Imperials, can you say the same?"
THAWCK!
The man's defiant head rolled into the basket with a sickeningly soft plop. Romulus felt numb.
"As fearless in death, as he was in life." Came Ralof's somber tone from his right. Romulus didn't know the man personally, but he was inclined to agree. The man had balls to face his death as he did. Not many could say the same.
"Next, the renegade 'kinght' from Cyrodiil!" Barked out the Captain, pointing at him as though everyone had forgotten about who he was and what he looked like. What did he look like, actually? It had been sometime since he had looked at his reflection with care. Not that it mattered now of course, but it would have been nice to know. He was about to go forth, a plan forming in his head, when that sound came again. This time, Romulus was sure it was a roar, and once more his eyes turned towards the horizon as did everyone else.
"There it is again, did you hear that?" The legionnaire said, more nervous now. The Captain was unimpressed.
"I said, next. Prisoner." She barked
The legionnaire sighed, nodding his head and turning towards Romulus. "To the block prisoner, nice and easy."
Nice and easy? Nice and Easy... Nothing was nice and easy in this world. Not since he had been young had it been nice and easy. He had failed his mother, failed his father, failed his brother, failed his best friend. He knew he would pay for those failures very soon... But by Akatosh, it wouldn't be nice, nor easy. It would be bloody. They would remember him in these final moments, and maybe then he would be able to face his family in the afterlife with his head held up, knowing that he had done something right at last. Romulus walked forward slowly, his breathing slow and even. His heart was racing, and his eyes were drawn to the Captain. A statement indeed. He breathed out slow, coming to a stop at the block. The Captain was impatient, and kicked his knees. They buckled, and he collapsed painfully to the ground. Romulus gritted his teeth and resisted smiling. That little display would make doing what he would do next a little justified. Just a little.
Romulus took a breath in as his head lay upon the block, and breathed out slow. He looked towards Ralof, towards Ulfric, and finally let a smile break through. Ralof smiled weakly back, while Ulfric rose an eyebrow, then nodded his head. Good to see Ulfric still understood even after 26 years. Romulus could hear axe raise, the small grunt of the headsman as he used his strength to heft up the great weapon. The headsman went silent as the axe reached the top of its path.
1
Romulus could hear the muffled movement of leather, and the slight clanking of chain as the axe began its path down.
2
The deadly whistle of the wind as axe came for his neck.
3
His muscles were screaming for him to move, and he tensed up. Suddenly, he knew his moment was there.
NOW!
Romulus rolled to his left away from the block just as the blade hit the stone just a hairs-width to the right, bouncing up as headsman grunted from the force of the axe bouncing back towards him. Faster than anyone could react Romulus threw his hands up and caught the wooden shaft of the axe as it naturally came back down due to the lack of control the headsman now had over it. Using the headsman's weight and grip on the weapon Romulus lifted himself to his feet despite his aching knees. For a split second the two stared at each other. 'Tis the problem with long weapons, once you were inside of their reach they man was defenseless. Romulus threw his head forward into the headsman's head in a classic headbutt, breaking the man's nose. Romulus allowed his body to stagger back naturally, thus avoiding by a breath the sharp gladius of the captain that came straight down towards where his head should have been, instead severing the long axe's shaft, leaving a stick in the hands of the shocked headsman, and a deadly (if unbalanced) war axe in the (bound) hands of an experienced knight that had seen more combat than that arrogant captain had ever even dreamed.
The axe was heavy, and was pulling his arms downward. Following his body's want, he allowed his upper body to fall, allowing the Captain to swing with all her might in a fruitless assualt that passed by overhead quite safely. Before the Captain even began to think about recovery, Romulus had already spun the axe so that the blade was up instead of down, and threw it up between her legs with all of his might. The sharp axe had been designed to slice through muscle, tissue, sinew, and bone. It tore through the armored skirt like a hot knife through butter.
CRUNCH!
It was an ugly sound as the axe slid home in the women's groin and her scream was just as ugly, screaming bloody murder in his ear. Romulus idly thought that it was a good thing it had been a women he had done it too. He pushed the thought from his mind, coming up and catching her falling arms with his armpit. Locking his arm in a death grip, he turned her arm quite painfully into an armlock, coming up behind her and turning her body (axe between the legs and all) towards where he had seen the archer. Two arrows clanged off her chest plate. A third arrow punched through he face and the helmet, the trip staring quite threateningly at Romulus. That was why Romulus never wore open-faced helmets, never know when someone might actually be quite good at archery, or quite lucky. Turning his bound hands up, Romulus prayed that the arrow was still sharp enough to effortlessly cut his bounds. Allowing the smug Captain's corpse to slide down, Romulus kept his upturned hands spread as far apart as he could. The arrow sliced right through the rope, and Romulus thanked Akatosh for the laziness of today's Imperial rope-tying.
With his hands now free, instinct screamed at him again, and he ducked as the heavy stick of the headsman sang carelessly by. Turning slightly, he threw his elbow into the man's gut, spinning around to come up behind him and punch him in the spine. Again, three arrows came. This time, they all sunk into the poor headsman, and another arrow stared Romulus right in the eye from the back of the headsman's head. Huh, quite ironic, and it seemed that the archer wasn't lucky. Smug bastard. Romulus fell forward with the body, bouncing off the man's considerable girth and rolling over the Captain's gladius, picking it up in the process. The whole exchange, Romulus engineering the death of two important individuals and cutting his bonds and becoming armed in the process, had taken about twenty seconds. The red-haired legionnaire had just drawn his sword, and the general was taking his fifth step towards him.
Imperial response had really gotten bad, but maybe that was just Romulus.
The Stormcloaks hadn't been idle during the brief exchange, instead preferring to show their gratitude for Romulus causing a scene by attacking the shocked soldiers watching from behind with rocks and their bare-hands. Ralof had ran towards Ulfric, tearing out the man's gag. Ulfric laughed out, and many of the Stormcloaks were now armed. They wouldn't die without a fight.
Romulus was just thinking about how he would die with a sword in his hand at least when a sound like thunder came from behind him. Turning rapidly, he managed to see the top of the tower explode. Shocked, Romulus turned his head towards Ulfric, who was just closing his mouth. Ulfric glanced back at him, and for a moment he looked like the young legionnaire he had known during the Great War. "That should take care of our archer problem don't you think?" Ulfric grinned, accepting a gladius from a women looking at him reverently.
Romulus laughed out hoarsely "Yeah, I think so."
The two friends then turned to survey the battlefield. Civilians had run screaming from the battle, and Tullius was atop a wagon coordinating his men for retaliation. The discipline of the Legion managed to manifest itself in even these legionnaires, as a shield wall was quickly forming in response to the rocks being thrown at the legionnaires. Now Romulus knew what it was like to be on the opposite end of an Imperial shield wall, and felt some sweat on his neck. For a moment, as he surveyed the strong lines, he wondered how the Empire ever lost the war. Then Romulus remembered how slack the Legion had become, and his resolve became steel.
"Think you could muster up that magic again?" Romulus muttered to Ulfric behind the Stormcloak soldiers using planks and dead legionnaires as a sort of defense. Ulfric muttered back: "Probably."
Romulus barked out a laugh, and readied his stolen gladius. It wasn't a longsword, and he didn't have a shield, but it would do. Maybe he'd be able to fight his way out, but he doubted it. At least he'd be able to tell his father that he brought many with him... Even if they were legionnaires. "Just like old times eh, friend?" Romulus said.
Ulfric laughed. "Just like old times, except they're much shorter!"
Romulus chuckled. "I prefer stabbing in the heart over jabbing them in the legs anyway!"
Tullius jumped down from the wagon and was handed a shield. Seemed he intended to lead from the front. Romulus could respect that. Romulus could hear Tullius' command of "FORWARD!" as the shield wall was fully closed, Tullius in the middle. The wall came forward slowly, and Ulfric prepared himself. Romulus breathed in, and hoped that his family would be proud.
None of them predicted what would happen next.
The wind was howling like a hurricane from the south, and the trees swayed in the strong breeze. The air became blisteringly hot and dry, almost as if Romulus had entered Cyrodiil in the thick of summer. The howls of the wind were haunting, and suddenly the howling winds became roars. Roars so loud they shook the buildings around them, and both Stormcloak and Imperial alike gave startled cries as the ground shook beneath them. Ulfric was looking towards the horizon in horror, and Romulus dared to look over, his jaw dropping. Some... something was flying towards them, it's roars like thunder. It flew over them, towards the still rising sun, and turned. The thing was black as the night, perhaps darker. As it flew towards them it was if the very light around them were being sucked away, into the back thing soaring overhead.
"What in Oblivion is that?" Romulus managed to croak out, his throat closing up in terror.
No one had an answer for him, until the thing swooped close to them and landed upon the tower that overlooked the bloody courtyard. It's scales were so dark, darker than ebony. It's wings were larger than the house behind them, connected to the body that was easily larger than the size of the inn they had passed on their ill-fated journey into Helgen. Romulus chanced a look at the thing's face, and felt his breath be stolen away.
It's teeth were the size of shortswords, within a mouth that looked big enough to swallow the tallest Altmer whole. It's head was larger than two grown Nord's the size of Ulfric, and Ulfric was a bear of a man, taller than most nords even. The nostrils were as large as Romulus' own head, and they were releasing steam with every breath. There were horns atop it's head that were curved like scimitars, but at least as large as a greatsword. It's eyes were what made Romulus' heart stop for a moment in fear, and his breath to come short. It's eyes were a ruby red, more red than the banners of the Empire beneath it. The eyes were more vivid than blood, and were pure evil. The thing's eyes were a deep red full of anger, hate, and malevolence. The men were silent before the monster, and the monster regarded leered at them with an eerie intelligence that marked it as something much more than a beast. Something much more... sinister. It shifted it's massive body atop the tower, it's talons that were each as long and as sharp as the finest ebony longsword from Morrowind cutting gouges into the stone as deep as Romulus' forearm with just a touch.
From next to him, Romulus could hear Ulfric's horrified whisper of:
"Dragon!"
An impossibility. A legend. A children's tale. A Dragon! Dragons had been believed extinct, vanished long ago before or even during the time of Tiber Septim. Yet this beast before them proved the scholars wrong. This... Dragon was very real, and very terrifying. Instinctively, Romulus knew this beast was more than just a dragon. No, it was something far worse. From the depths of his mind, from his very soul, Romulus felt as though he knew what this dragon truly was.
Thuri!
It was not a word Romulus could say he had ever heard before today, much less in his own mind, but he knew that the dragon was just that. The Great Black Dragon was his lord, as plain as day. It surveyed them with a regal, if sinister, air that made Romulus want to fall to his knees in both reverence and despair. This was more than just a dragon. This was all of men and mer's fears made flesh. This was death incarnate. This was the doom of the world. This... was the World-Eater. He knew naught where the term 'World-Eater' had come from, but he knew it was correct. Knew it in his very soul. This was a god.
And the god spoke!
"So it seems that mortals have not changed in the time I was gone, still as petty and simple as ever. How... pathetic." The thing hissed out like a snake, fury in it's deep tone. "Too think that you mortals ever challenged me, ever dared to rise off your bellies and defy me. It was a mistake to allow your kind to live. A mistake I intend to correct. Behold, mortals! Behold the glory that is Alduin, firstborn of Akatosh, greatest of the Dragons! I am the World-Eater! I am the Bane of your False Kings!"
"I. AM. DEATH."
Alduin seemed to roar out thunder itself, a command to the heavens, and the heavens bowed before the World-Eater's might. The skies were filled with an angry red as clouds swirled angrily above Alduin. The Bane of Kings laughed as the heavens opened up and spat fire down upon them. Men were screaming as fire from the skies rained down upon them. The famous discipline of the Legion fell before the might of the World-Eater, screaming in horror as they were routed and scattered like flies. They fled, as did the Stormcloaks. None would dare stand before the Bane of Kings. None held the courage in their hearts to face the World-Eater. Alduin laughed, and flew off the tower, the tower collapsing beneath him. Fire spewed from his mouth down unto the legionnaires, and they were naught but ash in seconds. The flames were so hot...
Quickly, Ulfric grabbed Romulus by the shoulder, jarring him from his horrified gaze into the sky. "COME ON ROMULUS, WE HAVE TO GET INSIDE! THE GODS WONT GIVE US ANOTHER CHANCE MY FRIEND!"
Romulus nodded quickly, and the two sprinted for the tower that had once held the archer atop it. There Ralof and other Stormcloaks were to beckon them forward frantically, looking at the sky with horror. Dragonfire spilled down into the courtyard once more, and the two ran all the harder until they were in the tower. The blistering heat was abruptly cut off as the men slammed the door shut. Romulus was breathing hard, leaning against the wall.
"J-Jarl Ulfric... What is that thing?! Could the legends be true?!" Came the shaky voice of Ralof, clearly terrified.
Breathing heavily and with his hands upon his knees, Ulfric looked up to survey the room. Surprisingly, both Stormcloak and Imperials alike were holed up inside the tower, all terrified and looking to him for answers. For half a second, Ulfric felt like he was back in Markarth when the Empire turned upon them. Swallowing hard, Ulfric stood up tall.
"Legends... Legends don't burn down villages."
The men and women under his command whimpered, and legionnaires looked away with their hopes discouraged. The tower rumbled, and screams began again.
"ENOUGH!" Ulfric's voice rumbled, almost like the Dragon's, but softer. More human. "We need to move, now! Before the Dragon brings down the tower on our heads! Those of you who can stand, carry the wounded. I don't care if they're part of the Legion, no one gets left behind for that thing!" Ulfric barked out, and it was done. Men and Women scrambled to aid those to injured to move, and they looked to Ulfric for further orders. They couldn't leave through the door, for the Dragon would surely kill them. But they couldn't stay there.
It was Romulus who gave the order. "Up through the tower, let's go!"
It was mad, but Ulfric nodded. "Quickly, up the tower! Those with wounded, remain here! Gunjar, stay with them and wait for me. What are the rest of you still standing around for? UP THE TOWER!"
Those who could move on their own scrambled for the stairs, Imperial and Stormcloak alike. When they reached the second floor, they were halted by a frantic "Get back!" From Ralof.
Alduin had smashed in the tower, and his draconic face seemed to be smiling. He opened his great maw, and Romulus could see a flame gathering on his tongue. Desperate, Romulus threw Ralof down the steps, causing several others to stumble back down. Romulus turned his back on hole just as the fire seared into the tower. It blanketed across the floor of the tower like fog, and those who were too slow to make it back to the stairs going down were incinerated in an heartbeat. Romulus cried out in pain as his back was seared, blistering under the intense heat. Were he any closer to the fire, his back would've turned black and been a lost cause. He would be dead.
His back in more pain than Romulus could ever remember being in, he somehow found the will to rise and even help Ralof up. Ulfric had gone ahead, looking out of the hole that Alduin had made. It seemed as though he had made a plan. "Romulus! Come here!"
Romulus quickly made his way over, and looked out towards Helgen. Helgen was a mess. Buildings were burning or had been smashed in entirely, and Alduin was flying overhead, spewing his deadly breath down into the village. Romulus could hear the screams of women and children mixing in with the men. Ulfric pointed over towards the keep. "Look there, Romulus! Arrows! Seems Tullius is made of sterner stuff then he looks! We have to get the wounded there, or they'll never make it out!"
"The Dragon will kill them if we try leaving!"
"Not if you distract it!"
"What?!"
"Take Ralof and few others with you, the more the better! I want you to jump through to the Inn, it's not so far to fall. Distract it for just a little longer, and we'll meet you at the keep! Do you understand!" Ulfric roared, looking at his friend imploringly.
Romulus gulped, but he knew Ulfric was right. If he and the other men went out there, it could be there deaths. But they would be dead if they remained anyway. This was their best shot. Romulus nodded, and Ulfric smiled. "Talos be with you, old friend!"
"And you, old man!" Romulus grinned, then turned towards Ralof and a few others.
"You heard the plan! I don't care if it's suicide, it's suicide either way! Now, JUMP!"
And with that Romulus turned and lept through the hole and down into the burned out husk of the Inn. Ralof and a few others jumped with him, screaming all the way. Romulus crashed through the burning straw onto a solid floor, a little jarred from the impact but far from dead. The others were in similar fashion, but Romulus didn't have the time to reassure them.
"COME ON. WE'VE GOT TO KEEP MOVING!"
He ran, jumping down from the floor onto the ground floor of the inn, and out onto the street. There Romulus saw the red-haired legionnaire from earlier holding his in one hand, and reaching out imploringly towards a child on the road. Next to the legionnaire was an old man, calling out to the child as well.
"Get off the road, boy!" The old man screamed, looking at the sky and back.
"Get up father, get up! Please, get up!' The child screamed, and Romulus could see that the child was bent over what Romulus presumed to be his father. The child's father was laying on the ground, his leg at an odd angle and blood pooling underneath him.
"HAMMING! YOU NEED TO GET OVER HERE, NOW!" The red-haired legionnaire called desperately, looking as though he were about to spring forward for the child. The child didn't move, and with a loud scream the red-haired legionnaire bounded forward, scooping up the child into one arm and turning to run. Romulus could faintly hear the father saying "Make me proud, son' softly before Alduin landed in front of him.
Romulus quickly turned back to the others in the inn, frantically waving his arms for them to get back. "GET BACK, GET BACK!"
Dragonfire filled the streets, and the heat caused Romulus' already burnt back to erupt into a fresh wave of pain, his skin peeling away. When the fire stopped, they ran out onto the street. Romulus looked over to where the father had been. Nothing was left.
"Hadvar!"
Romulus looked over to see a female legionnaire run over to a burned down house. There, Romulus could see the red-haired nord and the old man, the boy safely tucked between them.
"Come on Hadvar, we have to go! We've got to get to the keep!" The woman shouted out desperately, and Hadvar nodded.
"Gunnar, take care of the boy! I've got to find General Tullius and join the defense."
"There is no defense, Hadvar! Only retreat! Come on, we've got to make it to the keep!" The woman legionnaire shouted desperately, dragging Hadvar with her towards Romulus. Hadvar nodded again, and gestured for the old man to come with them. Gunnar looked a little conflicted, but couldn't say no. He gathered up the child in his arms and ran towards them.
Romulus could wait no longer. "COME ON, WE'VE GOT TO GO!"
The party of both Imperials and Stormcloaks ran on towards the keep, fires sprouting up around them as they ran ever onwards. Finally, the party came upon the gate Romulus had entered in from to see General Tullius commanding a small unit of battlemages and archers, sending arrows and magical fire up into the sky towards the Dragon.
"I want every arrow in the sky! You there, Knight Romulus! Get them to the Keep, we're leaving!" Tullius barked out, somehow sounding composed even though his eyes were wild. Romulus could only nod his understanding towards his would-be executioner, urging the party onwards. Tullius had his men keep up the fire a little longer, distracting the dragon and buying the party time. Some of the legionnaires in Romulus' party stayed with the General, unwilling to leave him despite his order.
Hadvar made to join them when the female legionnaire from earlier screamed. "No Hadvar! You'll die if you stay out here. Please, come with us!" Dragging him by the arm towards the keep with tears in her eyes. Tullius nodded.
"Go Hadvar! I'll be fine! Romulus! For Divine's sake get those two inside!" For a moment it wasn't the great General Tullius that asked him this, it was Legate Stannis Tullius asking a friend to help him. Romulus nodded, and grabbed Hadvar by the collar.
"Let's go boy! The General can take care of himself!" Romulus called, turning away from the General towards the Keep.
They were greeted at the Keep's gates by some Stormcloaks, but Ulfric wasn't present. Romulus feared the worst, and looked back towards the General. Romulus could see Stannis urging his men to fight on, arrows and lightning and fire flying forth towards the Black Dragon. With that last view of his friend, the doors of the Keep were slammed shut by Hadvar and Ralof.
The Dragon's roars shook the keep, causing dust to fall down. Romulus knew they couldn't stay there, they had to keep moving. Romulus surveyed the room, taking note of the people. Both Stormcloaks and Legionnaires were present, but more of the blue sashes were present then the red and brown leather. Romulus could also see civilians, mothers with crying children and fathers consoling their families. Many of the legionnaires present seemed to be there because they were there for their own families. Romulus could respect that. Walking further into the room, Romulus grabbed the attention of a women wearing the colors of the Stormcloaks.
"Where's Ulfric?"
"He stayed with the wounded, directing them and others into the ruined tower the dragon first landed on without them being noticed I think. That was the last I saw of him." The women told him, obviously exhausted.
Romulus nodded, trying not to worry. Ulfric was resourceful, entering the ruined tower may have well been a stroke of genius. He would be fine. Stannis too, would be fine. He had been close to the gates, and Romulus remembered seeing a cave on the way to Helgen. No doubt Tullius had seen it too, explaining why he was retreating out of Helgen, rather than towards the keep. Romulus had his own problems to take care of, namely the people within the keep that could be razed to the ground at any moment. Romulus was exhausted, his back was raw and peeling. His legs were shaking. Still, Romulus placed his hand of the bag of sword shards, asked for strength, then called for attention.
"Does anyone know where we can get some supplies in this keep? Weapons, food, gold, anything we can get out hands on?" He called out, voice hoarse from yelling earlier.
"Yeah, the barracks is down that hallway. Me and a few legionnaires can grab some supplies-" Hadvar was cut off by Ralof.
"What, and let you legionnaires come back armed when we aren't so you could cut us down? Not likely. Best to let us gather the supplies Hadvar."
"And you wont cut us down when you return with weapons?"
"Enough!" Romulus shouted above them, causing both sides and their spokesmen to divert their attention.
"Are you two insane?! This isn't the time for petty fighting between us! A fucking dragon is out there and just burned this place to the ground, and the keep could be next! So get your heads out of your asses and have both legionnaires and Stormcloaks gather the fucking supplies!" Romulus barked, frustrated.
The two gave him sheepish looks, and Hadvar even muttered out a quiet apology to Ralof. Ralof didn't respond, but did nod. The two groups, staring at each other with distrust, went down the hall Hadvar mentioned towards the barracks. Romulus called Hadvar and Ralof back.
"Not you two. Your groups seem to respect each of you, so you're going to be with me at the front when we lead this rabble out of here and soon. Hadvar, is there anything about the keep you can tell me? Any other ways out?"
"I've got no clue, I've only been here a day. It was enough to know where thee barracks was, but that was about all I needed to know, besides the mess hall which is further down near a storeroom." Hadvar said quietly, and Romulus nodded.
"Alright, storeroom and mess hall. Good. Ralof, where's the closest settlement?"
"That would actually be Riverwood, my - our home." Ralof said, gesturing between himself and Hadvar.
Romulus raised an eyebrow but didn't pursue it. No time. The roars were getting louder, and the keep was starting to shake. Children cried out. Romulus needed a plan, and soon. "Alright, we can head further down-"
"Uhm, s-sir?"
A young voice came from Romulus' left. Romulus looked over to see the young boy from earlier, Hamming, standing there tugging at his shirt. Well, what was left of his shirt.
"What is it boy?"
"T-there's another way out, s-sir." The boy said shakily, tears still in his eyes. Romulus turned his full attention to the boy, as did Hadvar and Ralof.
"Where, boy?"
"F-further d-down. I explored around h-here alot, and I found a tunnel past a dungeon. It l-lead out into a big c-cave. There w-was a bridge, and I went over it and f-found a stream. I-it was really cold and scary. I went a little farther and f-found a s-scary bear. I-it was sleeping, so I snuck past it. I f-found an exit and went through. It b-brought me out onto a path leading to a road, w-way outside of H-Helgen. When I got back, father was so mad..." The child trailed off and said no more, tears falling down his face once more.
Romulus could feel his heart fill with hope for the first time today. There was a way out, a hidden one to boot! Romulus kneeled and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.
"Thank you lad, you just help save a lot of people." Romulus smiled gratefully at the young boy, and the boy smiled timidly back. Romulus ruffled his hair and sent him to Gunnar. Ralof leaned close to Romulus.
"If the road I'm thinking of is the one the boy was speaking of, then it leads straight to Riverwood." Ralof whispered.
"Would there be any trouble from the locals if all these people suddenly showed up?" Romulus whispered bacl, doing a head count. There must have been at least 50 civilians there, not counting the men who had gone to the barracks.
"Riverwood is a part of Whiterun, which is neutral territory. My uncle, Alvor, is the blacksmith there. He could vouch for us." Hadvar said.
"My sister owns the lumber mill, the reason why Riverwood even got started, I'm sure she would help us out too." Ralof affirmed.
Romulus nodded as well. The bear the boy spoke of would be a small problem, but ultimately Romulus was confident that it was their best bet. "Okay. Everyone, everyone please quiet down!"
The room had been full of murmurs and cries before, but they gradually silenced, save for the shaking of the keep and dust falling. "There's a way out beneath the Keep, and as soon as the men return from the Barracks we're going to make for it. They are tunnels which any sort of beasts could inhabit, so I will ask to you listen to us and let the soldier go first. Gather whatever possessions you have, we are leaving soon." Romulus said in a commanding tone, leaving no doubt in the minds of the people who exactly was in charge. Soon afterwards, the men returned with weapons, spare armor, bandages, some money, even a little bit of food and water.
With their meager amount of supplies gathered, Romulus set off at the front, Ralof and Hadvar not far behind coordinating the Stormcloaks and legionnaires respectively in an attempt to get them to work as a unit. There was some distrust, but they worked together fairly well if a little apathetic to one another. That suited Romulus just fine. The less conflict the better. They arrived at the storeroom, but the roof had collapsed cutting them off from the mess hall. Thankfully the storeroom had some bread and water, as well as potions. It was little, but it would be enough should the trip to Riverwood be more than a day. They even found a generous amount of Septims, which would help when they arrived in Riverwood to pay for their care.
They passed through a torture chamber, which the Stormcloaks had understandably been enraged to see. The torturer had been antagonistic as well, which didn't help matter. Eventually, Romulus had taken the pommel of his stolen gladius and hit the old torturer, knocking him out cold. Hadvar quickly apologized for him, and stole the old man's keys. There were few prisoners within the cells, and those that were present were weak. A few were dead, causing the Stormcloaks to mutter darkly under their breath, and Ralof to glare at Hadvar who was stoically looking away. Romulus had the Stormcloaks cover the bodies, but that was all they could afford to do for the poor souls. Quick sermons were given, and the company moved on. All in all, the company encompassed 125 people, the majority being soldiers. It was revealed that the reason legionnaires were even present was that they hadn't given a damn about the Legion in that moment, they simply wanted to be with their families. While Romulus could respect that, it also proved to him just how far the Legion had fallen. Before and during the Great War, desertion even for ones family was barely heard of. That it was done now in great numbers was both encouraging and discouraging. When he shared these thoughts with Hadvar and Ralof, the two agreed, Hadvar being far more reluctant and Ralof being more than willing.
When they arrived at the tunnels they ran into what looked to be giant spiders. Thankfully no one was killed, but some did suffer a scratch or two. From what Hadvar and Ralof said about their venom, Romulus figured it could have been a lot worse than it was. The soldiers cleared away the spiders so the civilians wouldn't be alarmed, exactly why the bodies of the tortured prisoners had been covered. If the company broke into panic, not only would it take longer for them to progress, but it would more than likely wake the bear the boy had warned them of. Romulus would rather kill the bear in its sleep than have it hunt them through the tunnels. When they finally did arrive at the cavern where the bear was located, Romulus had 20 archers come up with him and take aim. With a quiet word, twenty arrows were released suddenly into the sleeping beast. Another word, and a further twenty were released. No matter how big the bear, forty arrows would be more than enough to kill it. Most likely it was overkill, but Romulus would take no chances with civilians under his care.
Finally they came to mouth of the cave, and many cried out with relief. Romulus however, called them to a halt, and exited alone to survey the land. When he got outside, it was much later in the day, and the sun was lowering in the sky. The view of the mountains was beautiful, but Romulus payed it no mind. Instead his eyes were in the sky, scanning for the Dragon. After a considerable amount of time, Romulus gave the company the okay to exit the cave. As the company exited, Romulus called Hadvar and Ralof.
"Have the soldiers surround the civilians, keep an eye out for wolves and such. I know the people are tired, but I don't want to stop now. We have wounded, so we need to get to Riverwood. I want you two up front, you know the place best." Romulus said, his voice still authoritative but strained. He was exhausted.
Ralof nodded, as did Hadvar. Hadvar even threw in the Legion salute, much to his surprise. Before he could reprimand him, the two had already gone to carry out his orders. Romulus sighed. The events of the day hadn't been what Romulus expected at all, but at least he was still alive. He could fulfill his promise to his friend. He could do... anything. It was a new land, a new day. The company moved onwards, and Romulus did as well. They stopped briefly at what Ralof had called the "Guardian Stones" to refill water skins, and Romulus took the time to see his reflection in the calm waters.
His jet-black hair was getting rather long for his taste, reaching his neck and was matted with blood and sweat. His beard was thick and long as well, matted with sweat and blood just like his hair. Seems he would need a haircut. Blood and mud and dust covered his skin that was usually tan, but was rather pale now. His golden eyes were tired and haunted, sunken into his skull due to the lack of restful nights. Maybe he would be able to catch a good night's sleep for the first time in awhile.
"Romulus, we're close to Riverwood. We should keep moving." Hadvar called out from the road.
"Alright, I'll be right there!" Romulus called back, receiving an affirmative from Hadvar. Romulus washed his face, dunking it into the water for his hair. Now he could see his face, his pointed nose and higher cheekbones. His lower brow that came forward just a little. The deep scars on his left cheek from Thalmor swords. He could see himself, and wasn't quite satisfied with it. It would have to suffice for now however. Romulus returned to the company, and they moved on.
When they reached Riverwood night had fallen, and more than one wolf was deterred from approaching due to the size of the company. Many of the refugees shouted with joy upon seeing the little village, thanking Romulus profusely for saving them. Ralof came up to him.
"It's not much, but it's better than Helgen eh? Little less burnt." Ralof said with tired smirk, and Romulus agreed. Ralof patted him on the shoulder then moved into the village. Hadvar came up next.
"That was a great job back there, coordinating us and such. I don't think we would have made it if it weren't for you Romulus. Thanks."
"I try."
Hadvar smiled, slapped him on the back, then he too entered the village. Romulus took it in. A small village, a few sparse houses with a smithy near a lumber mill. It was simple, quaint with it's own little charm. It had no wall, very few (if any) guards. Romulus loved it. It reminded him of the Priory of the Nine before the Great war began, where there had been no need for the wall that eventually was built around it's few homes and shops with a smithy and lumber mill. Romulus looked up to the stars, and was shocked to see great colors in it. Streaks of purple, or blue, of green. Orange. Yellow. Red. They were all there, and it was beautiful. Romulus didn't want to look away. For the first time in a long time, Romulus breathed easy. For the first time in a long time, Romulus felt like he was doing the right thing. For the first time in a long time, Romulus felt hopeful. Hopeful for the future he could make for himself in this land. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he may even redeem himself. Skyrim was always described as a cold, harsh land. To Romulus, it was the land where he could heal, and remake himself. To Romulus, Skyrim was beautiful. Maybe not as beautiful as Cyrodiil, but certainly very close.
With hope in his heart, Romulus entered the tiny village, the sack on his hip holding the shards of the Divine Crusader's sword just a little lighter.
That's a wrap on Chapter 1. You may notice that Romulus' face wasn't described in great detail. This was intentional. His appearance that will be the same throughout THIS book will be introduced early next chapter. Any questions, leave 'em in a review and I'll answer them next chapter. Probably. Maybe. Depending on the question.