Cearbhail:

So, everyone. This story, called the Warlord, is a requested story by username: Not telling you. The overall character, past, and everything about the story was given to me by this person. And although this person does not personally want to write this story, they decided to ask me to write it for them. So... here we go. Welcome to the Warlord, which is not placed in my established Chronicles universe.

Oh... and enjoy =^^=

"Welcome to Solitude, capital of Skyrim. Before you step off the ship, I just need to ask you a few questions."

Ah, Solitude. I spent the last few nights on a slow-moving barge ship, carrying necessary fruits and vegetables from Hammerfell to Skyrim. The ship needed some amount of protection on their trip to Solitude, and offered me free passage if I offered protection against pirates and sea-born attackers. The barge got stuck several times in the thick ice-laden oceans in the north. During the hours it took for the barge mages to melt the ice surrounding the ship, I would watch for invading ice bandits. And we were attacked several times. But each time we were attacked, I managed to defend the ship. Lowly bandits, unskilled sword swingers; no discipline, no form, no tactics other than charge the enemy and hope for the best. They stood no chance against my sword and shield. I'm an experienced Legionnaire.

I was brought back to the Imperial soldier standing in front of him. In his hands were my Imperial Record: a single binder filled with my birth records, my employment into the Imperial Legion, and every battle I've ever fought in. He was looking it over as he confirmed I was who was standing in front of him.

Having traveled all across Tamriel, I'm all too used to provincial records. If I'm going to be living here in Skyrim, I will need to be recorded in the Imperial Records. The man standing in front of me, a young Imperial soldier who looks like a fresh recruit, looked up at me with a checkbook with a list of names on it. I could already see my name on the list, and if the kid knew anything of my name, he would have a full legion of soldiers surrounding me, preparing to have me arrested.

The soldier looked up at me. "So, you're Flavius Valentinianus, correct?"

I nodded. "Yes. I'm an Imperial, born and raised in Cyrodiil."

"In what year were you born in?" He asked as he looked at my birth record.

"4e 150, 7th First Seed. Born under the Lord birthsign. I'm 51 years old."

As I watched the soldier go over his notes, as well as my Imperial Record, he went over his notes, flipping through the large document. His eyes darted from file to file, and his face started showing his astonishment as he read all the accounts of every battle I ever fought in, every campaign I signed up to command, as well as my recorded Imperial Rank: Legate, Knight of the Garland. Once he read through my file, his stance straightened up as he looked back at me. "Welcome, Legate Valentinianus."

I shook my head at hearing my old rank, waving the salute off. "Look kid, I'm old. I'm just here to retire. I hear the cold snowy weather is great for my war injuries, the warm weather aggravates my old injuries, and the snow can be used in a cold compress." I'm looking forward to buying myself a nice cottage and starting up my own farm. Maybe I'll even find myself a wife, settle down, have a child.

The soldier nodded as he closed my Imperial Record. "Yes, sir. I'll just take your records to the records office. Enjoy your stay in Skyrim. If you need any information on the region, please visit our regional tourism office, located downtown Solitude."

I almost laughed at the thought. I've been everywhere in Tamriel by now, even spent a few years in Skyrim already, but it's been a good 20 years since I've stepped foot in this province. I was a fresh recruit much like this kid. It brought a smile to my face. I bet he wasn't even born in this province, like me. He was probably dropped off here in Solitude to spend a few years in the bitter cold so that he happily accepts his next mission drop into a worse place like Black Marsh or even on a ship circling the ocean around Akavir. I know how the Empire works.

I patted the soldier on the shoulder as I stepped off the boarding ramp. So, this was it. I'm now I'm Skyrim. I wonder how I will start my new life. I guess I'll go to the local tavern, and hear what the local news is. The first step in moving to a new land is to find out what's going on in the new land. The tourism office would probably be the worst place to get a full view of this province. Their job is to make this land seem like the best place in Tamriel and carefully keep me in areas where their commerce is controlled and heavily taxed. I want to see all of Skyrim's beauty, in a way that I couldn't appreciate in my early 20's.

I ran through a quick mental checklist of everything I had on me. Apart from my standard armor plates that I earned in war, my various weapons I had slung over my belt, or thrown over my back, or still had in my other home in Hammerfell, I had a duffle sack that carried all my gold, my clothes, field rations, and schematics for things farm equipment, homemade bars, and other retirement stuff. I know I won't find the perfect home in Solitude, or out in the wilds, so I'm probably going to have to build it myself. Or hire someone else to do it for me… and I don't usually rely on other people to do what I can do in half the time, with twice the effort, and get it right the first time without complications or mistakes that other… special people overlook.

Once I find myself a house, I will write a letter to my old friend Athlen, a Redguard I used to serve with. He has the rest of my stuff, and he'll ship it over to me on his wife's caravan. It will be nice to see them again. Oh well, time to meet the locals. I want to see how Skyrim has changed since the Great War ended. I hear the Thalmor are still an oddity here, and I like that. The further I am away from those murderous bastards, the better.

I took a deep breath as I looked around the docking bay. There were a few ships unloading, including the one I just rode in on. The strong hardy Nords, who made me look weak in comparison, were lifting crates twice my size and carrying them away like it was nothing. I know there is some racial differences between Nords, Bretons, and us Imperials, but I swear the Nords in Cyrodiil were always a bit less threatening when it came to their size. Even so, for an Imperial, my muscles were jacked to a point where I used to win the Mr. Cyrodiil body building competitions, even when I was just a spectator and not a competitor. Yeah, I have muscles, so big and so awesome, that I can't scratch my back anymore.

Even so, these Nords were just as big as I was, and that's something. I worked for these shields on my arms. Maybe living in Skyrim forces one to become more of a person just growing up here. Living in the freezing cold with barely any food other than the animals you hunt will do that to you. Luckily, I have a pocket guide filled with the various fauna and flora. I know enough to be able to make my own farm. Chickens, cattle, potatoes, and wheat. That would be a good start. Snowberries too. I should also see about getting some wood to make a snow collector. That way I'll have water year-round.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I glanced over my shoulder to see the Redguard captain that hired me to protect his barge. "Thanks for your help, Flavius. Are you sure we can't keep you on as our security? Free room, free food, and I'll even pay you."

I shook my head. "No thank you. This place is my home now. If you need someone capable, someone just as good as me, I know a guy in Hammerfell, and maybe a girl here in Skyrim. Last I checked, her name was… Yhelga. She used to live in Dawnstar. She might still be living there. Just tell her that Flavius recommended her. That should get her attention."

The captain nodded, patting me on the shoulder as he turned to pay attention to the unloading ship. "Well, then this is goodbye, Flavius. I hope you find what you're looking for." He turned back around, looking at his checklist as he watched the local dockworkers unloading his ship.

I guess it's time I get moving. The longer I stand here, the less time I have to get set up here in Skyrim. I wish I had thought this through, but coming here and starting fresh is half the fun. First thing is first. I'm not actually in Solitude yet. Solitude is a town hanging over a large cliff, placed there in the olden days because it was an easy place to defend. Invaders could only attack on one front, and it was an uphill battle the whole way to Solitude. The first Nords who settled here were able to defend this town against the Reachmen when they came to claim this as their land. That is why Solitude has survived as long as it has… it's defensive location.

Just looking at the cliff where the city loomed overhead of me, I could see only one tactical error. The rock the city was built on top of wasn't stable. There was a large break in the rocks Solitude sat on top of, and it all came down from the mainland, almost floated on a thick rock structure that lead over into the sea, and then ended with a large unstable pillar of rocks that led into the ocean. Sure, the rock pillar was still large and very much immovable, but… if I were an invading force, I would target any number or resources into breaking that rock pillar. If I did enough structural damage, the rock pillar might sunder, and with it… half, maybe even more than, of the town would crumble and fall down hundreds of feet onto the rocky frozen ground, or even into the sea, where the water was freezing and filled with ice. Though, I suppose… this town has been here for hundreds of years, maybe even thousands. If such a structure were weak enough to give out, it would have by now.

I shake the thought away as I begin my hike up the docking bay. The entire bay is made up of wooden planks floating over the Ghost Sea. The docking bay was built alongside the very cliff I talked about, and the only way out of the docking bay was by a single ascending staircase leading up to a resting area, and then to another staircase leading up to a road. That road will lead me up to Solitude.

And so, I began climbing up the stairs, avoiding any unnecessary conversation. I just want to get to Solitude, get whatever new I can from this place, perhaps rent out a room for the night, and then set out in the morning to find whatever I can. The sooner I find a spot to build my house, or buy one, the better. It might be a better idea to buy a house for now, and then work my way outside to find one to build. I can travel home when I feel the need to, and then travel back. And a horse would be great for that. So, I'll add a horse to the list of things to get while I'm here in Solitude.

Before I knew it, I was already walking up to the main gate leading up to Solitude. I was right about the defensibility of this town. It was an uphill walk the whole way, and running it would easily fatigue any armor-clad soldier. There was a massive wall with archer towers on both sides of it, and a single opening, where both towers had gated entrances where the archers could fire down at you as you filed through the entrance. And I'm guessing that by now the architects have added spike traps and whatnots to the defense entrance. As I glanced up over the awning, I could see the holes where spikes would shoot down. And… there they were. It would be impossible to invade this town with the number of defenses they've added to this town.

As I continued walking up to the town, I noticed the worried look on the soldiers. Most of them were keeping their hands on the handle of their swords as they watched me approach the city. Jeez, if I didn't know better, I'd think we're still at war. I kept the worried stares at the back of my mind as I approached the main gateway, where I was stopped by two Imperial soldiers.

"Halt, traveler. What is your business in Solitude today?" One of the soldiers asked as he placed his hand on his sword's pummel.

I glanced down at his pummel, noticing how… perfect it was. I'm not saying it was a perfect sword, but… what I'm getting at is that this sword has not seen any action. It has no nicks, no wear, no tear. The soldier's armor spoke the same story. No damaged leather, no faded colors, metallic chevrons were still polished. He looked like he just came out of a graduation ceremony. The soldier was still young, still too new to this whole thing. Was this a trend I've ignored with the Legion? Did all new recruits go to Skyrim? I thought it was just me because I was an annoying brat when I first signed on.

Man, I feel sorry for the Legion's Knight of the Imperial Dragon having to deal with so many fresh recruits. Still too battle fresh to know how to handle a real threat.

The soldier waiting for my response was only getting more anxious seeing the steeled look in my eyes. His battle buddy was starting to back away, reaching for his sword as well. He was beginning to set himself up for a pincer attack. Not a bad tactic. If I attacked him, his friend would be able to stab me in my left side, hitting a rib and paralyzing me as I bled out in the snow. And if I attacked gate guard, I would face a stab through my back. Maybe I have these kids misjudged. Add to the fact that three archers were currently trained on me from the archer towers. Looking around, I'm perfectly boxed in. The only way out of here was the cliffside, where the only solace I had was a 50-foot drop to the road I just climbed up.

I decided to end this exercise by answering the guard's question. "I'm new in Skyrim. Wanted to go to the inn, get a drink, and find out what's new in this area. I also want to begin looking for a place to live."

The guard and his friend didn't relinquish their grips on their swords, but the guard did nod. "Ok, traveler. You may proceed. Be warned, today there is an execution."

An execution? That's… an odd punishment. Only reserved for traitors and brigands. "Who's being executed?"

The grips on their swords tightened, and I heard archers reaching back on their bows. Sound carries in this box. Interesting. Would make sneaking through this section also difficult.

"A Stormcloak sympathizer: Roggvir." The soldier replied, now stepping in front of the gate, keeping me from entering.

Stormcloaks… Stormcloaks… I feel like I should know a term like that, but all I can remember is a soldier by the name Stormcloak.

"I'm unfamiliar with that word: Stormcloak. What does it mean to be a Stormcloak?" I asked the soldier. I noticed that my question only made him and his friend seem tenser. Whatever I said was setting off flags for them, and that's not a good thing. I'm beginning to wonder if we're at war again.

The guard unsheathed his sword, aiming at me. "I want to see your hands at all times." Fair enough. If I'm saying trigger phrases, I would have reacted similarly to someone acting odd. They might think I'm one of these Stormcloaks, especially since I'm here at an execution of one of their own. I'm dawned in enough armor and weapons to put down a military. I can see why these soldiers would be suspicious. I should say something to appease their fears.

"I will comply." I raised my hands into the air. "My name is Flavius Valentinianus. I was a Legate in the Legion during the Great War. You have no reason to fear me. I'm just new here, unaware of the local troubles, and most importantly… I'm retired. I don't want any trouble anymore."

That seemed to help the soldier a bit, but he didn't lower his sword. "I can't take you at your word, Legate. I'm sure you understand."

I nodded. "If I was in your shoes, I would be the same way. I know the procedure. So, here's what's happening next. Your friend will pat me down, confiscate my weapons, and then allow me entrance to the town while you report to your own Legate, and have a meeting with them. I will probably be locked in a holding cell until I can verify with this Legate that I am in fact… not whatever a Stormcloak is. Correct?"

The soldier stared at me, bewildered at how I knew exactly how this was going to happen. "Normally, yes. But…" He lowered his sword. He started to say something but then he caught himself. "Well, I will report to the Legate later today. For now, you will be held out here until the execution is over. When Roggvir is executed, you will be allowed entrance to Solitude. Be warned, traveler. If you make any sudden moves the guards don't like, you might end up on the block. Understood?"

I nodded. "The standard treatment." I was curious as to what's going on though. "If you confiscated my weapons and kept me at sword's crab trap, could I watch the execution?" The guard looked confused, so I explained myself. "I want to know what a Stormcloak is. May I observe?"

The guard nodded. "Ok, sir. This will only take a second."

My weapons were quickly unbuckled from my sword belt; my duffle lifted from my shoulders. It was just me in my armor. I must admit, it felt nice to have all that weight off me. And I got these soldiers to carry it for me. Ah, to feel like a Legate again. It felt nice having solders do what I wanted them to do.

I was marched past the gate, two soldiers on both sides of me, their arms wrapped around my back, two daggers pressed into my sides, right underneath my second and third rib on both sides. If I punched one, the effort would force his weapon to pierce me, and while that was happening, his friend would also stab me. It I hit both, chances were, I'd get stabbed by both. The knives were slit into the only open spots my armor had. There was no way I could get away from them even if I wanted to. So… this was a standard way of traveling with prisoners. Add the archer right behind me, and I'm good as dead if I act up.

I was marched into the execution area, where I could see a group already gathering around the execution block. There were a few guards, but mostly what I found were citizens. They all looked mad, the guards looked tense. I took a spot near the end of the crowd, looking up at the man dressed in rags. He must be Roggvir. He certainly looked like a man ready to accept his fate.

"So, what did he do?" I asked the two soldiers keeping me pinned between them.

"Roggvir." A guard wearing red clothed chainmail walked up to the stairs to the execution block. "Five months ago, you helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape Solitude after the murder of the High King." Ulfric Stormcloak. I remember that name. He fought in the Battle of the Red Ring. I was in that battle too. I never saw him on the battlefield; we fought in separate battlefields. He was an honorable man, from what I've heard. "What say you in your defense?"

The man in rags stepped up to the crowd. "There was no murder! Ulfric challenged High King Torygg in honorable combat! Such is the way of Skyrim; such is the way of true Nords!"

The crowd started booing at Torygg. And… I didn't know how to feel about this. I really didn't. I needed more information. I looked to the soldier on my left. "So… I need some answers here."

"Ok…" The soldier replied, carefully keeping his dagger pressed against my hardened skin.

"This man let Ulfric Stormcloak escape Solitude?" The soldier nodded. "And Ulfric challenged Torygg to a duel?" The soldier nodded. "Is that illegal?"

The soldier glanced between me and the other soldier. "Well…" The soldier on my right side began to look away. "It's… not… it's in the records, but it's an old law. No one in the past few hundred years has ever committed a full duel against a High King in so many years… If anyone even remembered the law existed, it would surely have been repealed by now."

The whole point of a dueling clause was to allow the public to do away with corrupt politicians and bring in a new voice for the people. If that voice wasn't good at their job, they could be facing the same exact punishment. The law has been used too many times by corrupt officials to do away with good kings to push their own agendas. That was why the Moot existed. The other Jarls had to back the new contender, even if the previous leader was replaced.

I looked up at the man as he kneeled on the headsman's block. "On this day, I go to Sovngarde." I've heard men say that so many times right before a suicidal mission, or seconds before they bled out. The headsman brought his axe up and brought it straight down onto Roggvir. I watched as the man's head was cleaved from his shoulder. The axe was left down as the blood shot up, shielding the crowd as the blood shot out from the shoulder. Roggvir's body was gently pushed away from the block, where it continued to drain out on the stone platform.

The soldiers glanced at me. "That concludes the execution. No sign of any Stormcloaks." They released their daggers from me.

The gate guard nodded his head to me. "I'm sorry for the discomfort, sir. Please enjoy your stay in Solitude."

"Before you go…" I looked to the soldier. "I want to know what a Stormcloak is. I'm guessing it has something to do with Ulfric Stormcloak, and since this man died for helping Ulfric escape… a crime that isn't fully a crime, and for it to be worth a beheading… it must be important that Ulfric dies." The wheels in my head were already turning, and I think I already know what's going on.

The two soldiers exchanged a glance. "You really don't know?" The gate guard replied. "We're at war. Ulfric Stormcloak started a rebellion five months ago. He seems to think that the White-Gold Concordat was a mistake and thinks that becoming High King will allow him to free Skyrim from Dominion control. The Empire wants to hold onto Skyrim, and so… well… that means the Empire is at war with Stormcloak and his rebellion." The White-Gold Concordat was a mistake. The Empire gave up right as we were about to turn the tides of the war. Our Emperor bent his knee to the Thalmor, handing to them what was so precious to us… our lives, and our freedom. Sacrifices were necessary to keep living freely, but our Emperor didn't seem to think so. We lost the war, even if our historians will call it a tactical victory. Even so… for another war to spring up like this… that's not a good thing. If we're going to recover from the Great War and perhaps become a stronger Empire… we can't be fighting wars like this. "The Stormcloak Rebellion pretty much started after the Markarth Incident back in 176."

"That was a long time ago." Almost 25 years, I believe. Around that time, I would have been in Hammerfell helping the Crowns and the Forebears keep the southern part of Hammerfell out of the Dominion's hands. I had to relinquish my rank in the Legion to do it though. I was disavowed… all that hard work climbing the ranks, thrown away just so I could do the right thing. And while I was doing that, I guess Ulfric was up here doing something too. He and I are pretty alike. Too bad we're completely different when you think of the overall picture. He's weakening whatever power we have left against the Dominion. I… well… I can't let him do this. Killing kings, starting a war. This won't help anyone but him. He needs to be stopped.

Has this war been going on here in Skyrim for the past 26 years? No wonder why these kids were jumpy at me coming up to the gates of Solitude. Great… just great. I came here to retire. I guess I won't be so lucky.

I looked at the soldier. "I need to speak to the presiding general."

The soldier looked from me to his friend. He looked back at me, saying, "He's not here, sir. He's… on a mission."

"Take me to whoever is in charge of the Legion while he's away on mission." There's always a second-in-command.

The soldier pointed to the inn behind us. "Legate Rikke is in the pub, sir."

Rikke? No… no way. She's here?

I patted the soldier on the shoulder, smirking as I walked by. "Tell me… how do I look? Polished? Refined? Ready for pillow talk?"

The soldier seemed completely taken aback by that. He looked from me to his battle buddy. "Um… sir?"

I laughed as I slapped the kid on the back. "No worries, kid. I'm sure I still have the looks to kill. Whoa, sword down. I'm just going to go in there and talk to my old friend." Perhaps bed her. We'll see.

I quickly walked over to the pub, almost forgetting that my weapons and duffle were still sitting outside the city with the other gate guard. Oh well, I'll get it later. I'm about to get something else right now. And I'd rather not wait.

I slammed the pub door open, drawing a commotion from everyone in the pub. "Rikke!" I screamed to the entire pub. I scanned the room, looking for her, and I found her sitting at the bar, her hair still tied up in her bun, her armor not as shiny as it used to be. She looked older, but then again, so do I. I bet she's still the same sweetheart I knew back in the Legion though.

Rikke's eyes snapped back at me, and it didn't even take a full second for her to recognize me. "Flavius?" She slammed her pint onto the bar. She was about to stand up and walk over to me, but right as she stood up, so did six other people. And it was instantaneous. My mind quickly went into defensive. I knew that these men were not standing up to all go take a leak at the same time. They were too quick, too defensive in their stances. Their sleeves blurred as they charged for Rikke. And she was moving just as quickly. As the first person came for her with their knife, she spun past them, locking their arm against her side. With a quick turn, she snapped his arm, making him drop his knife.

I didn't just stand there and watch. I was already on two guys, snatching one by the scruff of his hair and pulling him back at me. I rammed his head into a support beam, catching the soft spot of his temple on a lantern hanging nail. I jumped past him to another of his buddies. I planted a heavy kick on him, throwing him back over a table where a confused wood elf jumped from his drink. He looked at me and then back at the guy I just kicked. He nodded to me before taking his bottle of beer and smashing it over the head of the attempted assassin.

And like that, the whole bar erupted into a bar fight. Everyone was up on their feet. Some were fighting each other, some were fighting themselves, and Rikke and I were fighting the remaining assassins. I ran up to her back, placing mine to hers. "Just like old times." I said to her as I punched an assassin the face. With my beefy muscles behind the punch, I sent the man all the way across the bar, crashing over tables, and slamming into the wall, where the wood-work snapped upon his landing. His face was obliterated. Crap… I swore I wouldn't kill someone with my massive muscles like that again. He didn't seem prepared for it at all. What kind of assassins were these anyway?

Rikke unsheathed her sword, not even hesitating as she charged through two assassins, cutting them down before they could react to her thrust. "Not quite." She responded. "You had hair back then."

"Hey, I still have hair." Just because I'm wearing a hat doesn't mean I'm bald; it just means it's cold here and my ears hate the wind. I actually have a full head of black hair, graying on the sides though. I reached over grabbing one of the assassins. I punched him a few times in the face. "Who are you?" I punched him again. "Who sent you?"

Rikke finished off her assassins, and then turned to face me. "They're probably Stormcloaks. They've done this before." She kicked one of the dead assassins. She walked over to me, gesturing to the guy in my hands. "So… am I correct? Are you a Stormcloak?"

The bruised guy was barely conscious but even he could open one eye and say, "Ulfric is the true High King."

"And he'll make the Empire leave Skyrim, blah, blah, blah." Rikke said with a hint of nonchalance. "We're right here waiting for him." She lifted her sword and brought it up to the man's neck. "So… headsman's block or interrogation room. Prison's a little full at the moment so… that's off the table."

"I would rather die tha-"

"Request granted." Rikke thrusted her sword into the man's neck. I made sure to shield my mouth and eyes as blood squirted out. With that man dead, I no longer had a reason to hold onto him. I let him fall to the ground before I wiped the blood off my face.

I looked over to Rikke, nodding to her. "So… want to go find a quiet place and…"

She grabbed onto my armor plates and started pulling me towards the inn rooms. "You will make up for lost time."

"I have plenty to pay with." I responded as she began to pull me.

Cearbhail:

So, we have the first requested story I've actually decided to do for someone else. NOTE: I will not be doing any more requested stories. Doing this one is my limit.